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defdaily · 4 years ago

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‪[TRANSLATION] Arena Homme+ Magazine April 2021 Issue featuring JAY B

Translated by defdaily.

JAY B is free and starting again from scratch. That is what JAY B has in mind. GOT7’s leader announced that he would be leaving JYPE as the group stays together. JAY B is preparing to debut as a solo musician while planning to also release mixtapes and hold exhibitions as Def. We had a chat with JAY B, who has gained more freedom and strength, at the swimming pool about courage, depression, literature and aspirations.

Did you come here alone?

Yes. I took a taxi here. I was the type to go around freely even when I was in JYPE but catching the taxi to work this time around felt new.

All GOT7 members decided to leave JYP but stay together as a group. As a leader, you needed to make a decision, right?

Although we ended up leaving JYPE, we wanted to continue as GOT7. We all agreed to leave [JYPE] and try it between ourselves.The product made from me taking responsibility/taking charge was the single 'Encore’ that was released not too long ago. I was involved in the whole process with a new record label. I was happy to see a good response [to the single]. It was lacking in some areas but I was just very proud that we were able to show a different step. Since we showed through this single that “we did not disband”, what’s next is more important. When we left JYPE, Director Jung Wook mentioned "Your role as a leader starts now." I'm realizing it now.

”I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I wanted to start again from scratch.”

Your role as a leader actually starts now.

I used to find the role of a leader burdensome at times but now I feel a greater sense of responsibility. While supporting each person’s journey, I thought I needed to be the one to step up once we got back together. We also talk regularly in our group chat. Not long ago, Jackson went to China. When Mark went to the USA, I could see him off but when Jackson was leaving, we couldn’t be together because of a schedule. So I told him to have a safe flight, apologised for not being able to see him off and thanked him too. He replied saying he’ll take care and be back.

What motivated you to leave the large agency you've been working with for a long time?

The thought came to mind suddenly as we were promoting as GOT7. Am I taking all these benefits I get for granted? When a schedule is released I just do it, and when they ask me to confirm things I do, but what kind of long process has it gone through before it came to me? Who sends a request and how is it processed? Why am I only waiting until it reaches me and simply watching it unfold? I wanted to be directly involved in that process. I wanted to learn everything about the process of releasing an album and how difficult it is. I want to be humble and start from the bottom again.

Didn't you need the courage?

Of course I did. I was also afraid. My position has risen to all the way up here, but when it comes to my actual knowledge, I think I'm only down there. I was afraid that the difference would feel too big once I left the company. But I think I would have been more afraid if I stayed at JYPE. Since that difference would have grown bigger and bigger. My real self is here, so I should face it head-on a little faster. That's what I thought.

As JAY B or as Def. who releases mixtapes and holds exhibitions, you must have had the desire to do something new.

I want to do research and build it up step by step without haste. JAY B will show hip hop and RnB music that appeals to the general public and Def. will do activities that Def. wants to do. It could be mixtapes or exhibitions, or other different kinds of fictions. Def. is the nickname I used as a bboy before I became a trainee. It’s like air floating about freely. It could be house or soul or acoustic or even modern rock. In a way, you can say that Def. is close to my “main self” but since I debuted as JAY B, I’ll also show a devoted side of myself through JAY B. I want to be a person who can do both what he has to do and what he wants to do freely.

Listening to your mixtapes, and hearing that you like the styles of D’Angelo and Ray Charles, you seem to be attached to the Southern US rhythm and blues and soul music.

I do like them a lot. I like the entire hip-hop culture that originated from there. That culture also includes DJing, graffiti and even bboying. Since I started as a bboy, I would look up older videos to watch, study the culture and also look into what each dance move symbolizes, with my bboying crew and that's how I became fascinated. What captivated me the most was their obstinacy. I felt respect towards the conviction and obstinacy they carried with their culture.

Is that mood still incorporated in your music and dance?

Yes. For example, I don’t think choreography is dance. I think dancing is when music plays and you like the rhythm and start humming and bobbing your head and moving your body. I think dancing is a free act you do out of enjoyment.

What was the reason you joined an idol group after starting out as a bboy?

I gained an interest in music too, not just dancing. When I was young, I listened to D’Angelo’s music and wanted to become a singer like him. But I was rebellious when I first joined JYPE. Haha. I was even suspended for a month once as a trainee. I definitely said hello but they said I didn’t so they said "If you're going to be stubborn, then go home" and me with my young heart replied “Then I shall head home.” and left. Then I met up with my bboying crew after a long time, and in just a few months it turned into a different world. The crew members were above me and I was worried because I could feel myself far away by myself. Should I go back to bboying? Should I continue as a trainee? In the end, I wanted to do my very best in whatever I chose so I decided to focus on becoming a singer. Since I wanted to do music, it was a choice I made with no regrets.

You started as a dancer and ended up as a main vocalist. What was music to you back then?

It was a challenge. Trainees are divided into singing and dancing. I joined as a dancer but what I wanted to do was become a singer and not just do dance. But since I was put into the dancing division, I worked even harder with singing to break that prejudice. I often felt defeated. I still feel defeated with singing. Haha. But music is about endless research. Now it’s more about research than studying.

You grew up as an only child to your parents who did farming?

I was an ordinary kid. I enjoyed Haruki’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage and thought the “colourless” kid was just like me. I was a calm kid who helped his parents with their farm work. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have any older siblings but they said I used to talk to myself a lot. My mother said there was a way she would know if I was home or not. If I was home, she would hear me talk to myself and be like “Oh really?” “Yes really” haha.

It’s extraordinary to read Haruki at that age.

There was an older friend that I knew and he was really cool. He looked really cool reading on the bus with his legs crossed. He said “Hey, Read a book and build up some knowledge.” As I was trying to be cool like him, I gained a favourite author and started reading more since I enjoyed it.

What kind of books do you like?

When I was a teenager I often read Kafka On The Shore. It felt like Kafka was just like me, and so while reading it, I even cried. The style of Murakami Radio was also interesting. The ending phrase “But I like that more…” was very witty. I’m collecting books from secondhand bookstores from authors who won the Young Author awards. I like Lee Jang-wook's short story Byeon Hee-bong. The main character knows the actor Byun Hee-bong, but the world doesn't know him. He would ask "Don't you know Byun Hee-bong from the movie The Host?" But no one knows. I like stories that don’t intend to be funny but they end up making me giggle.

What do you read these days?

I try to read poetry. I purchased and read the first volume that appeared on Moonji’s Poetry Collection, but it has too many Hanja characters. Haha. I started with Munhwak’s Poetry Collection. I have volumes 1 to 85. I also read poet Park Joon's collection of poems and poet Lee Eun-gyu's Affectionate Name. I even underlined and wrote things down.

Among the idols and musicians I’ve met, I think you are the most extensive reader.

We went on tours often and we would have a lot of time in my hotel room. When I went out I took pictures and when I stayed in my hotel room I read books. When I go on an overseas tour, I pack around 30 books in my suitcase. Then I bring back the books that left an impression on me, and those that didn’t sometimes I dispose of them there. These days, I look for independent publications too. I often look for independent publishing bookstores in Nakseongdae or Haebangchon. There are many books that contain honest stories that are not refined, and the power of those sentences is great.

How does reading influence your work?

The poetic expressions with poetic license help when writing lyrics. You read a new sentence and think “What is this expressing?” You receive inspiration from that image being expressed in a new way. I think of lyrics as poetry too. There are times I write how I feel honestly, but when I want to include a certain meaning I’d want to write the lyrics like poetry.

In your photo exhibition <ALONE> last year, you took pictures of objects and signs in the middle of the road.

Wouldn't it feel very lonely if you think about it from an object’s point of view? The camera captures just an instance but the object will stay there. I think each person has an insatiable loneliness. I like the artist Seonglib’s works, and I feel loneliness in his drawings. I don't know why I keep talking about loneliness, I guess I’m familiar with loneliness.

Seems like you take more pictures of objects and landscapes than people.

I don’t really like taking pictures of people. You can clearly see a person’s emotions in their eyes. I prefer hiding things rather than revealing them too much. I prefer objects, backgrounds, and natural objects rather than subjects that openly express 'It's me!'. Tranquil things, I like when you go past something and go “that’s how it was.” I try my best since my job requires being presented to people but that’s also how I am.

Who do you like as a movie director?

I like Woody Allen’s directing. My favourite is Match Point. It's a love story that goes beyond taboos, and it's electrifying. The face of the actor who secretly asks the reunited lover to give him her number remains in my memory for a long time. How could he direct such a real-looking, raw look in their eyes? When I was a theater and film major, I used to take directing classes rather than acting. If I were to direct a film, I would like to shoot an eccentric witty romantic comedy like Love Fiction directed by Jeon Gye-soo.

Are you self-conscious as an artist?

I’m interested in a variety of genres, and interact with crews often, but I think goofing off just because they are an artist is an arrogant attitude. Everyone is their own artist, no matter what they do, right? I'm not trying to be pretentious, I just think there's a difference in expression, and people who work in the office are also doing their own art. That’s why I’m a little shy about the title “artist.” Is there a need to be puffed up with pride because I’m an artist? I’m just a person.

While filming for “What's in my bag” and revealed your medications for depression and panic disorder. When did you face your depression?

I didn’t know I had depression. I thought I was being weak for a short while and let it pass. But on an occasion I got examined and found out I had depression. They asked how I lived by without going to the psychiatrist. I said I just thought I was the type to feel blue. Haha. I’m the type that doesn’t show [what is wrong] but they said I was in a state where I needed treatment. After going to counselling and taking medications, I’m much better now.

“I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but depression is both a common and dangerous illness.”

I think you’re cool for having the courage to talk about this.

I got diagnosed and looked at the people around me. There are friends who are ashamed of it and try to hide it, and there are friends who talk about it as if it’s insignificant. I just wanted to talk about it. It may not show, but it’s both a common and dangerous illness. A mental illness is an illness too. Among my fans, or those who read this interview, if there is someone who feels depressed, don’t be ashamed of it and I hope you receive treatment and overcome it. It’s not an embarrassing thing and it doesn’t need to be hidden. And I was filming content where I show what’s inside my bag; I can’t lie. I wish everyone would be healthy.

Are you bad at lying?

Yes. If I have to tell a lie, I think it’s just better to not say anything. Since I’m the type that’s honest and straightforward, I also don’t like beating around the bush.

Can you share a way one can take a step forward towards recovering from depression?

Look at the world in a broad view. Know that there are many places you haven’t been to yet and there are many things you haven’t felt yet. It's also good to take a walk and go off your usual route and take a path you've never been on. Small adventures can also be of great help. Just by leaving the house you’re already halfway there. I think there are more ways you can refresh yourself outside rather than inside. Also, I thought I was an honest person but after being diagnosed with depression, I thought I should be more honest with myself and more faithful to myself. At times like this, think of yourself before others.

What do you believe in?

I just believe in god. I don’t have a religion. I don’t know what kind of existence god is but I do believe that there is a god. When I’m thankful or am having a hard time, I pray. “Thank you.” “Please let me get through this wisely.”

What is the greatest motivation that moves you?

As long as I’m alive, I want to continue doing work that will leave a message. I believe that there is no next life. I think I should live this time diligently to the fullest. To have no regrets.

Translated by defdaily.

#jaebeom #def.#lim jaebeom #jay b #GOT7 jb #interviewtrans #jb trans #jb interview #defdaily:trans

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bubblesuga · 4 years ago

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Sleep

“the world is brighter than the sun now that you’re here...”

Summary: Yoongi has never felt more relaxed than he has while in your arms

W/C: 2,047

Genre: Fluff

Tags: brief mention of ass

A/N: Apparently I’m not done with this soft shit yet. Soft Yoongi kills me.

Yoongi’s feet carry him into the only room he knows will be empty.

It was moving day and Yoongi was completely unprepared. Sure, he knew that he was basically going to be rebuilding his set up from the bottom to the top, he just didn’t realize that would also include constantly helping Hoseok and Namjoon with theirs as well. Yoongi prides himself on being quite knowledgeable about musical tech but sometimes it’s overwhelming.

He walks quickly, dodging people and ignoring the calls of his name because he knows he’ll get wrapped into helping someone else with some nonsensical tech ‘problem’, taking up even more time and raising his anxiety beyond what he can manage on his own.

Sticking his master key into the door, he realizes it’s already unlocked. He grits his teeth for a moment and tries to think of another place where he could possibly get some peace and quiet. Unfortunately for him, he hears Jimin calling Yoongi’s name and it’s either entering this room or getting dragged away from his rest.

The door slowly creaks open and he peeks inside, seeing that it’s dimly lit and quiet. What’s supposed to be a vocal practice room has yet to become so, the shell of a computer laying on the floor and a very tired intern sleeping beside it.

Yoongi instantly smiles.

You began working at the company a little less than 3 months ago, and you were learning fast. What would normally take people years to learn, you were consuming in weeks and Yoongi was impressed. You had signed on in an attempt to learn more about producing, which lead you to work with pdogg and Yoongi relatively closely. As a result, Yoongi’s first instinct isn’t to wake you up and tell you off for sleeping on the job. Instead, he lays beside you, mirroring your body.

Your eyebrows are scrunched and a frown overtakes your lips, showing that you have been just as stressed as Yoongi. He reaches his hand forward to run his thumb along the crease in your brow but stops himself, his hand pulling back quickly.

It’s definitely not the first time he’s thought about pressing a kiss to your forehead in an attempt to ease your mind. As you were helping pack away the recording equipment near the studio, Yoongi could see the way you blew air out of your mouth and attempted to wipe away your stress with the back of your hand. Then, Yoongi wanted to wrap his arms around you and reassure you that you were doing everything right.

You stir and Yoongi scoots a little further away, the pout on your lip softening but the crease in your brow just as strong.

Yoongi has always found you incredibly beautiful, but it baffles him that even in your sleep you somehow manage to look ethereal.

He debates on waking you, hearing constant footsteps outside the door that caused him to worry that you’ll be caught sleeping-- or that he’ll be caught watching you.

A sigh leaves his lips and he reaches over, resting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing softly, “____, it’s time to wake up.”

You stir again, this time opening your eyes briefly. You gasp, jumping at the sight of Yoongi. He chuckles, “Be lucky I was the one who caught you and not someone else.”

You blink, your heart thudding in your chest loud enough for Yoongi to hear. For a moment he thinks it’s because you’ve seen him, but he remembers that he scared you awake.

“What are you doing in my nap spot?” You question, a whiny tone to your voice that makes Yoongi’s heart flutter.

“Arguably, you’re in my nap spot.” Yoongi bites back, trying to hide the way his cheeks turn red when you mirror him again.

You giggle, “It’s both of our nap spot.”

“Ah, does that mean you’re going back to sleep?”

“No,” you shake your head, wiping away the sleep from your eyes, “I have to finish setting up the computer and making sure everything runs correctly.”

Yoongi sits up, tugging the computer tower to him and plugging in all the wires to the correct input. You open your mouth to protest but Yoongi sends a glance your way and continues setting up. Funnily enough, he doesn’t mind helping you. Rather, he sometimes wonders if that’s what he was searching for in the first place. Maybe it wasn’t peace and quiet he wanted, maybe it was just your presence.

“Y’know, you can’t keep doing my job for me. I’m going to have to learn some time,” you say after a few moments of watching Yoongi work, “how else am I going to become a badass producer like you?”

Yoongi smiles shyly at the compliment, reaching backward and scratching behind his ear, a nervous habit he wishes he could get rid of. “I like helping you.” is the only thing he can bring himself to say.

“Well, you can only help me so much, Mr. Min.” you point a finger in his direction, and Yoongi rolls his eyes as he continues to work.

He stands up and turns on the tower and the monitor, allowing the computer to boot up and sitting back down beside you. He sits much closer to you than before, and takes notice in the way you don’t make an attempt to move.

“All done.” he whispers softly, clearing his throat in the process.

You nod, “Of course I fell asleep just before the easiest part.”

“Eh, it’s okay,” before Yoongi realizes what he’s doing, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, “you needed the rest. It’s been a long day.”

Again, you don’t move away from him. Instead, you rest your head on his shoulder and cuddle up closer to him. Something about the atmosphere of the small room makes Yoongi feel bold, and his hand rubs up and down your shoulder. Despite not knowing you for long, you’re the person who he finds the easiest to talk to.

“It’s been a long day for you as well.”

“Mhm, which is why I came to nap but you were already in here.” He teasingly reaches forward and pinches your nose, which causes you to push his hand away and clasp it in yours to prevent him from doing it again. Yoongi instantly prays you don’t notice the way his hand shakes in yours, but he realizes you do with the way your thumb moves to stroke his.

“I’m not stopping you from napping,” she replies, “you can nap all you want.”

In an oddly bold move, Yoongi grins, “Can I use you as a pillow?”

You glance up at him, eyebrow raised, “What part of me?”

Yoongi’s mouth runs dry at your question, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly while he tries to find an answer to your question. You don’t give him the chance, though, as you lay on your back and pull him down with you.

With a giggle, you pull Yoongi’s head to your chest and softly run your fingers through the section of hair behind his ear. Yoongi wordlessly follows your lead, wrapping his arms around your midriff and trying to calm his breathing. The heat that radiates off your body causes Yoongi to flush, but at the same time he begins to slow his breathing.

“Comfy?” you question.

“Y- yes.” he responds, allowing himself to fall solely into you. The way your fingers run through his hair makes him feel like this is where he’s meant to be. It reminds him of the touch of a previous lover, who softly coaxed him to sleep after a night out. Yet, it’s different with you as well. Your nails are longer, they send chills down his spine, and the bare skin that resides in the V cut of your shirt seems to fit his face perfectly.

With that, Yoongi feels himself drift off to sleep.

~*~*~

“Should we wake them?”

“No, they look cute... we can’t disturb that.”

“They’re sleeping on the job, though. _____ could get in trouble if her manager sees her.”

“Shh, Yoongi has been wanting this since she started here. Besides, we can overturn any manager here.”

Yoongi can’t make out the voices that are whispering, and he can’t quite seem to pull himself out of his lull yet. Instead, he’s hyper aware of the way your breathing sounds in his ear, your heart beat softly thudding beneath your chest.

He feels himself drifting back into the deep sleep he fell into, but a hand rests on his shoulder.

“Hyung, it’s time to go home.”

“I said not to wake them!”

Yoongi is beginning to recognize the voices. Namjoon and Jimin are in the room, and Yoongi feels his nose scrunch.

“Fuck off.” he murmurs against your chest, snuggling deeper into your soft skin.

“Come on now, you can’t sleep on the studio floor all night.” Namjoon’s voice is low, and Yoongi feels you begin to move.

“Are you coming home with us tonight?” Namjoon’s attention is now directed to you, and Yoongi decides it is best to open his eyes now. The same dim lighting greets him and he cranes his neck to see your face.

You’re eyes are still closed but you open your mouth to speak, “Why would I be coming home with you guys?”

“Because Yoongi is refusing to let go of you.” Jimin speaks commonsensically, though Yoongi can tell he’s teasing.

You absentmindedly reach your hand to his hair again, “Shall I go home with you and continue our sleep there?”

Yoongi nods, his chin against your chest, “I’d love that.”

As the four of you exit the vocal room, Yoongi guides your sleepy figure into the elevator where you reach the parking garage. Jimin drives, the rest of the members already having left and made their way into their beds. On the drive home, Yoongi doesn’t let go of your hand.

It’s unspoken, and although you haven’t done anything to confirm it, the two of you are aware of the change in your personal relationship. Something so simple--like falling asleep together, has caused Yoongi’s confidence to grow.

Though sleepiness is still clouding you two, Yoongi opens his mouth to speak for the first time since leaving the office, “Do you like me, _____?”

You laugh, it’s soft and melodic, “No, I just followed you here to sleep in the big comfy bed.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened to me,” Yoongi jokes, pulling back the duvet and slipping his shirt off his torso, “Here, that shirt and jeans can’t be comfortable to sleep in.”

You nod, glancing back to the walk in closet. Yoongi nods, “You can change in there.”

As you shut the closet door, Yoongi slips off his own jeans and slips beneath the covers. He reaches to the side and fluffs the pillow you’ll be using, then folding his arms beneath his head and watching the door for you to come out.

When you enter into the main room again, Yoongi’s shirt doesn’t hang as low on you as he thought it would. It stops just below your ass, riding up when you bend down to place your folded clothes onto the chair in the corner.

He tears his eyes away from your ass when you turn around, pulling but the duvet for you to slip beneath.

You happily hop beside him, “Oh god you’re bed is soft. . .”

Yoongi chuckles, “You’ll sleep well then.”

You mirror his position, smiling softly, “I don’t think the bed is what will make me sleep well tonight.”

He gnaws at his bottom lip, “What do you mean?”

You don’t respond verbally, instead you lean forward and press a light, warm kiss to Yoongi’s lips.

Immediately his body ignites in fire, his hand flying up to rest against your cheek. That’s as far as it goes, though, because the kiss is over just as quickly as it started.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.” You whisper, reaching behind you and turning off the lamp on your side.

Yoongi grins, feeling his stomach swarm with butterflies. You move to rest your head on his chest, intertwining your legs with his. Yoongi holds you tight, his face alight with joy, “Goodnight.” he whispers back.

#min yoongi #soft yoongi #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi x yn #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #bts #bts x reader

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misfit-fics · 3 years ago

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Demon Rehab For Dummies

Summary: (Y/N) started seeing seven demons when she was 10. Through the years they all disappeared, all but one. Namjoon. A demon who has not so creepily, creepily, very creepily been in love with her for years.

Genre: fluff, crack, extremely minimal angst, idiots to lovers, romantic-comedy

Word count: 7384

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of suggestive & kinky themes, a handful of cursing, a story with a plot but not doesn’t exactly have a plot, a stubborn (Y/N) who dismisses love confessions & genuine flirting, an unspoken confession

A/N: Hey! we're back, it's been a while. We're starting school in a while but it will be gamble if we'll be more active or not. Well... we ARE active but just not posting? Yeah, you know what I mean. This has been sitting in our drafts for a while now and we're posting it now... although it's pretty unedited, feel free to address any oopsies. Hope who ever finds this enjoys reading!

At the ripe young age of ten (Y/N) began seeing seven men. Which- would’ve (should’ve) freaked any kid out but you know (Y/N) is just kinda quirky like that so she didn't really mind much. The men were nice and played with her anyway, and the only weird thing was that sometimes they would bring her dead birds.

At age eleven (Y/N) noticed that one of the men was missing.It didn’t affect her much except for the fact that this particular one would help her find things and she’d lost almost all of her socks since he disappeared. Not to mention the increase of bug bites after he left. The darn things seemed like they multiplied exponentially after a month.

By twelve only two of the men had disappeared, at this point (Y/N) not only lived in sandals (she still couldn’t find her socks) but she also couldn’t explain why her hair was burning off every time she tried to straighten it (her lil demon friends didn’t want her to, you’d think after almost 3 years of having men following her around and telling her what to do she’d get with the program already.) Her dog her parents had given her when she was 9 started disappearing quite often after he left. He always came back with a single sock that would disappear the next morning.

By thirteen (Y/N) had developed a crush (more like unhealthy obsession) on one of the men, Namjoon. The third year was also the year when Jimin disappeared, taking all of her favorite shoes with him. That year she had prayed to whoever was listening because her parents really couldn’t afford to keep buying her socks and shoes, and because she definitely couldn’t afford to shave her head.

By fourteen, Hoseok, the man who had cheered her up whenever she needed it, had gone, leaving a tidal wave of bad luck in his wake. He had a great deal in keeping (Y/N) happy, although some of his antics made her want to punch him, it never turned out that way.

When she was fifteen no one left… except for the dog. Aside from that, the only thing that left was her social life (It wasn’t like she had one before but you know it was still a little rough). (Y/N) began to depend more and more on her demons. She had become great friends with the oldest, Seokjin, who cooked for her when her parents went on trips.

At sixteen Yoongi left and the nightmares began. And with the nightmares came the growth of (Y/N)’s relationship with Namjoon. Namjoon became her protector, along with sometimes Seokjin, who still cooked for her and cared for her altogether when she couldn’t.

At seventeen, (Y/N) was informed that when she turned eighteen Seokjin would be leaving, on account that they didn’t need each other anymore. (Y/N) had been torn up when he told her and even more when he left. He didn’t take anything when he left other than a piece of (Y/N)’s heart.

At eighteen, (Y/N) moved away from her parents house with Namjoon trailing behind her (He even had lil demon suitcases and everything,) following her every move.

“I really don’t understand why you had to follow me out of my parents house. I thought spirits are supposed to be attached to a general area…” (Y/N) took to unpacking a box in the small apartment she now lived in.

“(Y/N) how many times do we have to go over this, I'm a demon, DE-MON.” Namjoon clapped his hands with each syllable. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist at the self-proclaimed demon.

“Demon, ghost, same thing.” She shrugged her shoulders, “same thing as to-may-to, to-mah-to.”

“It is not the same thing!” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) like it was obvious.

(Y/N) snorted, “Okay Casper.” She continued pulling out the items in the box.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted, “CASPER!?” Namjoon put a hand over his chest and widened his eyes. (Y/N) looked up at the demon with a raised brow,

“Geez Casper, why are you so offended? I’ve called you Casper before, Casper.” (Y/N) struggled to keep in her laughter, trying to keep a straight face as she looked at Namjoon.

Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “I think I shall simply cease to exist in your realm.”

(Y/N) looked back down at the almost empty box, “You wouldn’t do that, you love me too much, my dearest Casper.” She said in a singsong voice, “Oh hey I found a sock.” She pulled out said sock from the box, it had yellow stripes. :]

“I think Jungkook took the mate to that when he left.” (Y/N) threw the sock at Namjoon with a loud ‘FUCK!’

“I mean we could try and summon him to see if he’ll return your socks.” Namjoon shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even try.” She started putting the random items in their new places.

“You should put Juno on the window sill rather than the coffee table, I mean cacti do need sun.” Namjoon looked at the little green prickle plant.

“I’m sure if i didn’t tell you how to parent your child, it would’ve been confiscated by child protective services.” Namjoon crossed his arms and looked at Juno who had been (rightfully so) moved to the window sill.

“Casper- Juno is a cactus. There is no CPS (Cactus Protective Services).” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with her own arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised, “Now if you could- Can you please go unpack a few boxes?” (Y/N) shooed Namjoon away before her eyes widened and she added in, “NOTHING LABELED FRAGILE!”

“You know if we painted a wall or two in here, it would liven up the place so much…” Namjoon looked around the bland apartment, “Maybe an accent wall over here. A floor lamp over there. A new plant in the kitchen. It wouldn’t hurt you to give Juno some siblings.”

(Y/N) looked flabbergasted, “You want me to pop out another child?!”

“No I mean-” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“-OUT OF MY WALLET?!? MY BARELY 21 DOLLARS!?” (Y/N) got her wallet out and zipped it open. She shook it in the demon’s face, about 26 pennies, 2 nickels, 1 dime, and a quarter fell out. It was followed by a single, folded, 5 dollar bill.

“I don’t think that’s 21 dollars, (Y/N)” Namjoon looked down at the floor, where one or more of the coins had caught onto his feet.

“I have a gift card.” She pulled out the cheap plastic, silver, $25 visa gift card (that didn’t have 25 dollars) with a bit of a struggle.

“How much exactly is on that gift card (Y/N)?” Namjoon eyed the flimsy silver object.

“You expect me to know- I mean probably more than 10 dollars!” Namjoon raised a brow at the statement. “Okay, maybe about 3.69.” Namjoon sighed, massaging his temples. (Y/N) bent down to put the money back into her wallet like a pigeon eating bread crumbs the old lady on the bench threw onto the floor.

Namjoon walked away from the pigeon-girl and grabbed a notepad and pen that was left on the kitchen counter. “We’re making you a to-do list.” He stated, clicking the pen.

“WE haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet.” (Y/N) whined, pointing at the last large box in the middle of the hallway. Namjoon looked to where she pointed and shrugged.

“It says Christmas decorations.”

“EXACTLY! VERY. IMPORTANT.” she clapped her hands in between each word.

“It’s February.” He said.

“It’s still winter.” (Y/N) reasoned, finally done picking up the money. She plopped herself down onto the small brown couch.

“Okay so first off you need a job.” He wrote it down onto the notepad, the pen scratching being overlapped by a loud gasp from the human in the room.

“You dare ignore me?!” She yelled offendedly at the demon who glanced at her before looking back down at what he was writing.

“You also need to go to the supermarket.”

“I told you I barely have any money.”

“Your parents gave you some money.”

“Oh, you’re right.”

“And also, you should walk to the school and find a short route to get there.” Namjoon pulled out a literal map.

(Y/N) pouted, “I thought you were gonna walk me to all my classes to deter all the frat boys from coming my way…”

“I did say that,” he confirmed before continuing. “But I mean to get to the actual school grounds.”

“But we have a car.” She had drawnout the ‘but,’ trying to make her point that she didn’t need to walk.

“But you need exercise.” He reasoned, mimicking the way she had said her words.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No.”

“Yes you are.”

“(Y/N) i’m not.”

“Yeah you ARE, Casper.”

“Would you PLEASE call me by my actual name for once?”

“Sure thing. Rap Monster.” She teased, the ground started shaking. (Y/N) let out a loud screech looking up at the demon who’s eyes were rolled back. “OH FUCK YOU!”

The shaking died down, Namjoon staring down at the girl who was now underneath the coffee table. “This is why you’re still here!” she cried.

“You want me gone?” Namjoon questioned, offendedly. (Y/N) army crawled her way from her ‘safe spot.’

“I DIDN’T SAY THAT!” She yelled, returning the offended tone.

“I’m out,” Namjoon pivoted on his heel, walking to the front door robotically.

“Noooo!”

“Will I ever see my socks again?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon with hope, “I mean having shoes would be great too though.”

“What’s wrong with living in sandals? Birkenstocks are very comfortable.” Namjoon pivoted around with a candle in his hand.

“It’s winter.” (Y/N) frowned.

“You could always use mine?” He gestured to the shoes at the shoe rack at the front door. The ones that were closed toed…

“Your feet are too big.” (Y/N) looked over at the shoes, then looked down at her own feet, then at the demon.

“Size didn’t matter Last night with your sweaters?”

“That’s different, Namjoon.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“Size.” Namjoon smirked.

“Different.” (Y/N) stood confidently.

“You know, you could always just go buy new socks?” Namjoon looked at her oddly.

“I usually wait to get them for Christmas, you should know this by now.”

“Independence.” He stated.

“You’re a hypocrite.” Namjoon let out a ‘huh?’ and (Y/N) continued, “You said independence when you’re dependent on me.”

“That isn’t my fault.” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“It kind of is though…” (Y/N) shrugged, Namjoon opened his mouth to retort but was quickly cut off, “I’m literally a rehab center for you.”

“Apparently you’re not a nicely rated one.” Namjoon shook his head.

“I’ve helped 6 other demons, Namjoon. You’re just being difficult.” (Y/N) poked his chest really hard before retracting her hand.

“Ouch,” he put his hand over his heart where she had poked him, “You shouldn’t be saying these things to your client.”

“I didn’t ask to get a client or even BE a rehab center.”

“The reason why you became a rehab center was because you decided that humans were ugly and disgusting.”

“The reason why you ended up with me was because you did something bad and you just now decided to be a good person and it’s not turning out well for you.”

“For your information, I could have left a long time ago.” Namjoon crossed his arms, with an audible exhale from his nose. He stared down at the rehab center.

“And why didn’t you, hm?” (Y/N) crossed her arms also with a raised brow. Namjoon kept quiet, debating how to answer, keeping eye contact as if it was an olympic staring contest.

“You.” He said. (Y/N) snorted, ready to insult the patient. “-would’ve starved to death by now if I hadn’t stayed with you until now.” He finished, (Y/N) gasped, reaching up and hitting Namjoon on the shoulder.

“You. Jerk. Get. Away. From. Me.” She hit him harder every word before waddling away into the hallway from the chuckling demon.

“No problem,” Namjoon disappeared with a veil of sparkles out of view.

(Y/N) thrusted open the door to her new bedroom. Continuing her waddle to the end of the full size bed. Facing the head board, she plopped the top half of her body onto the bed front first. Namjoon reappeared about 6 feet away from her with a loud poof and a burst of sparkles scattering around the room.

“Go away.” (Y/N)’s face was still shoved into the mattress, “Seriously shoo.” (Y/N) lifted her arm off the bed to wave him off.

“I won’t go. You can’t make me.” Namjoon walked towards the bed hesitantly, scared to get fucking murdered by his prison warden, “Move over. Give me some room.”

“Go sleep in my closet.” (Y/N) flipped the demon off.

“You’d prefer nightmares over your dearest Casper?”

“Yes.” Namjoon sat down on the bed, his knee almost hitting the girl’s head. “I thought I said in the closet.”

“And I prefer the bed.” Namjoon leaned forward and took (Y/N) by her hands and pulled her closer to himself with an annoyed groan from her. She was pulled until her head was laid on his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“I hate you.” (Y/N) grumbled into her demon-pillow.

“I know.”

“You live because I allow it, and that is it to be my flesh pillow.”

“Okay, now sleep.”

“But why do you have to leave?” (Y/N) looked up at her bunk buddy, her chin was impaling the person’s chest.

“I have to. I'm ready to go.” Yoongi looked crestfallen, “They said I could have one more night. But then, when I leave, I can pass on my role.”

“Could you maybe not steal my socks?” (Y/N) pouted at Yoongi who chuckled in response. “This is a genuine request.” She said with slight seriousness in her tone.

“You don’t have any to steal anyways,” he rolled his eyes with an endearing smirk that replaced his dispirited look just seconds before.

“Ok just- don’t go stealing any of my clothing, I need it.” (Y/N) clicked her tongue, not denying the fact that she was sockless.

“I won’t. I don’t need your clothing.” Yoongi shrugged, “I might take your guinea pig though. Meatloaf is cute.”

“YOU wouldn’t DARE take Meatloaf from me.” She glared

“I can and I will.” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest and looked towards the cage that housed Meatloaf. (Y/N) groaned, unlatching an arm that was sandwiched between the bed and Yoongi’s back. She planted her palm smack in the middle of the demon’s face, covering his view of the poor guinea pig.

“No.” She patted his face, Yoongi’s eyes now squeezed shut.

“I can lick your hand.” he threatened, his voice muffled and jumpy from the wacky hand.

“You’re gross,” she moved her hand up, now only covering his eyes and revealing a gummy smile from Yoongi.

“It’s sleep time,” he declared. (Y/N) whined in response, “I’ll be here in the morning to say goodbye one more time okay?”

“Promise?”

“Never said that,” he hummed.

“You jerk,” she groaned, laying her head sideways. Her ear over his heart, engraving the sound into her mind.

Like a cliche love story, (Y/N) woke up to no one but herself on the bed. Through groggy eyes, she could see that poor Meatloaf was gone too.

“I tried to stop him from taking Meatloaf I swear.” Namjoon uncrossed his arms from over his chest when he noticed that (Y/N) was awake.

“Did you really?” (Y/N) sat up in bed.

“I did, I swear,” he said immediately, “I have proof.”

“By proof, do you mean you broke something?” Namjoon took a deep breath figuring out whether or not to say yes or no.

“I… never said that.” He decided on dying, his words drifting off in nervousness.

“So… you did?” She concluded, Namjoon nodded slowly, his eyes down on the floor.

“Yea…” (Y/N) sighed, trying to find anger to cover up a tsunami of sadness that was approaching.

“It’ll be okay. We can summon him every once in a while. Maybe while we’re at it we can try to get your socks back.” Namjoon smiled and hoped it would make her feel better while the reality of things had begun to set in for him. All of the boys loved (Y/N) with all of their hearts but he was the only one willing to stay for the long run.

“I don’t think people want to go back to a rehab center, Namjoon.” (Y/N) let the tears begin to pour.

“(Y/N) it’ll be okay…” Namjoon went over to sit on the bed next to (Y/N), “Seriously we’ll get through this.” Namjoon put a hesitant hand onto (Y/N)’s shoulder and began trying to comfort her.

“I know- I know but-” (Y/N) sniffled, “Hold on, my mascara will run.”

“You’re not wearing any?-” Namjoon raised a brow and looked at (Y/N) like ‘bih-’

“Shush.” (Y/N) shushed Namjoon before shaking off his hand and placing her head on his shoulder.

“You know you can’t prevent me from getting a boyfriend forever.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon before continuing to pack her bag for school.

“I can and I will.” Namjoon slung his own bag over his shoulder. He was definitely a professor.

“You can’t make me be single forever.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and slung her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Your preferences in men are horrible (Y/N), I'm not trying to prevent you from getting a man.” Namjoon said in a matter of fact voice, moving and opening the front door, letting (Y/N) pass through before he walked out behind her.

She scoffed, “maybe you should hook me up with someone, maybe then you can leave rehab.”

“I miss Meatloaf,” Namjoon said solemnly, changing the subject.

“Why do you always change the subject when I bring up my love life?” (Y/N) complained, stomping her foot as they walked down the hallway of the apartment building toward the elevator.

“Do you think Yoongi will respond if we try to summon him?” He ignored the question.

“Hey Joon? Is your dick ribbed? I heard all the demon dicks were ribbed.”

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, putting his feet together and staring down at the human with a face screaming ‘what-the-fuck?’ (Y/N) had a boxy smile on her face, waiting for a response. “Who the fuck did you hear that from?”

“A fanfic I read, it was a group called DTS,” she shrugged. “Is it right though?” she leaned forward slightly in high expectations.

“Well-” Namjoon paused, “uhhh…” his eyes darted around. “Mine… isn’t.”

“Damn- that’s really disappointing,” (Y/N) frowned, throwing down an imaginary hat onto the ground and continuing walking with Namjoon following behind her.

“Why is it disappointing? You’re a virgin.” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“Why would you think I’m a virgin?” (Y/N) looked offended. They stopped in front of the closed silver elevator doors, Namjoon hit the down button before responding.

“You literally had no social life in middle and high school and depended on demons who were attached to you by force in order to not lose your ability to speak in English.” Namjoon raised a finger, “Plus I’ve known you since you were ten and unless it was before that… I would know.” He slipped into the elevator, turning around and walking backwards. A know-it-all smirk plastered on his face while (Y/N) had an annoyed look on her own.

“Can we just- stop before we start arguing about my sex life?” She marched forward into the elevator like a preteen going into their room after an argument with their parents.

“How did you even become a professor?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon confused. “Couldn’t you have just you know… poofed yourself from people’s view when I go to school?”

“I need something to do while you’re in class. I might as well teach asshole frat boys how to do business math amiright.” Namjoon chuckled.

“I mean… you can just be the ghost you are and haunt me n’ stuff?” (Y/N) suggested, “I mean you already do that, Casper.”

“That’s Professor Casper to you.” Namjoon laughed too hard at his own joke.

“Ew,” (Y/N) cringed. “I’d rather call you Daddy Casper.”

“Only in the bedroom.” Namjoon looked at the human.

“Sex doesn’t always have to be private.” (Y/N) stared back at the demon, flipping her hair back. “Wait- are YOU a virgin then?” She asked, bringing back the topic from earlier, but this time about Namjoon.

“Classified.” Namjoon glared.

“So you ARE a virgin?” (Y/N) snorted a laugh, “And you call yourself a demon.”

“Not all demons are incubi or succubi, your demon-racist.” Namjoon accused.

“I am not demon-racist.” (Y/N) looked up at the tall demon, “I’m human.”

“You’re not a human, you’re the personification of the word ‘dumbass.’” He said, poking the proclaimed dumbass on the forehead.

“Rude of you to assume what I am, Casper.” (Y/N) smacked away his hand and pushed Namjoon not so gently on the shoulder.

“Now you’re the hypocrite,” Namjoon glared, “Professor Casper.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Daddy Casper.”

Namjoon frowned, “If you’re so persistent on not calling me Professor, then just Daddy works fine.”

The girl shrugged, “I’d prefer to just call you Daddy Casper, but without the Daddy part.”

“But what if I want to be called Daddy Casper.” Namjoon wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as they walked through the gates of the school, the walk soon enough would be coming to an end.

“Woahhhh down bessie.” (Y/N) lifted her hands and moved them in a downward motion, “Save it for the student who’s gonna try to fuck you for their grade.”

Namjoon laughed again, “You say it as if it won’t be you trying to fuck for an A.”

“I don’t get how an idiot like you got a job as a professor.” (Y/N) punched Professor Namjoon on the shoulder who was still laughing at the insult he pulled out his ass against the girl.

“I don’t know how an idiot like you got into college.” Namjoon rubbed his shoulder and then pushed (Y/N) back with a grin on his face. The bell conveniently rang, ending the conversation and forcing the pair to speed their way over to the classrooms.

“You know I saw one of the sorority girls eyeing you, I think we’ve found our fuck-for-a-grade person.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “You wouldn’t fuck her right?”

“I would never fuck one of my students.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Plus I don’t like cheerleaders, I like depressed freshmen who can see demons and that double time as rehab facilities.”

“I am not a rehab facility. I am a struggling freshman.” (Y/N) clapped at Namjoon.

“No you’re not a rehab facility, you’re my rehab facility.” Namjoon smiled cheekily, “And the way I see it you are not a struggling freshman, you live with a professor that helps you with most of your homework.”

“Eh- The one thing you don’t help with is stress relief.” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “The least you could do is let me go out and find a boyfriend.”

“You HAVE a boyfriend.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“WHERE? WHO?” (Y/N)’s eyes frantically searched the room.

“HERE! ME!” Namjoon pointed at himself and then widened his eyes.(Y/N) looked at Namjoon with a raised brow, her frantic eyes stopping and looking the demon up and down.

“I didn’t know you had a rental-boyfriend service?” (Y/N) said in genuine shock, “I don’t have any money though so-“

“You don’t have to rent me.” Namjoon scoffed, “I’m right here and I cost no money.”

“I don’t take charity work, sorry.” Namjoon groaned and covered his face with a hand.

“You’re literally the most stubborn person I know.”

“I’m trying to keep my single streak here, thank you very much.”

“Wait so we aren’t dating?”

“You thought we were dating?”

“You didn’t think that?”

“You like me?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I mean- you never said it-”

“I literally said it seconds ago, (Y/N).”

“Well yeah, seconds ago I guess but I mean before?”

“I literally confessed to you when we were looking for apartments to move out of your parents house.”

“When?-”

“What about this place then?”

“I like it.”

“More than you like me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“Are you questioning my love for you?”

“Bitch, maybe I am.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I be questioning it then, hmm?”

“I’m literally helping you look for a home that we both will move into.”

“That proves nothing.”

“Bitch- If that doesn’t say ‘I LOVE YOU’ I don’t know what does.”

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe saying ‘I love you’ straight up?”

“Fine.”

“I love you.”

“Nice.”

“Ohhhhhh.” (Y/N) smiled, “You meant that?”

Namjoon looked at her with a blank face. She stared back waiting for an answer that didn’t come.

“So… you do mean it?” She confirmed it herself. The demon nodded slowly, waiting for her to process it.

“(Y/N)? You good?” Namjoon waved a hand in front of her face.

“You know,” she started, finally having rebooted her system. “There’s a lot of things wrong with this relationship. First of all, you’re a demon and I'm a human.”

“Not the first time I've heard of that type of relationship.”

“Secondly, you’re supposed to leave soon considering you’ve delayed it enough. Even using my personified dreamcatcher as compensation to stay longer.”

“I’m pretty sure at this point, they’ve given up on trying to get me back.”

“Third of all, it’s weird that you’ve literally known me since I was ten.” She held up ten fingers, “How old are you again?”

“Not that old for a demon,” he shrugged.

“Exactly. For a demon, thank you for proving my point.” Namjoon went to retort but (Y/N) continued. “Fourth, teacher and student relationships are weird.”

“People roleplay it in the bedroom?” Namjoon shrugged once again.

“Exactly,” she said again.

“It’s technically not weird since you’re not my student though. You’re definitely not a business major so…” Namjoon weighed the pros and cons of being caught with a student even if said student isn’t even one of his.

“I’m an English Major- BUT that’s besides the point. You’ve still known me since I was ten.” (Y/N) poked Namjoon’s chest.

“Hey it’s not like I was creeping on you when you were a kid…” Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“No you just started creeping on me when I was around sixteen.”

“It’s more acceptable than pedophiles!”

“You’re like three hundred!” She exclaimed, she threw her hands above her head to

“Add about seven-hundred years to that.” Namjoon added with slight hesitation.

(Y/N) stood there, mouth agape, trying to do the mental math.

“You’re one-thousand?!”

“Give or take some.”

“I- I’m going to remove myself from this situation.” (Y/N) walked away.

[:] I ran out of image things, so we get text from now on. [:]

“Maybe I should start sleeping in the closet.” Namjoon voiced his thoughts as he was grading papers one night.

“You don’t have to sleep in the closet.” (Y/N) looked at the demon from across the kitchen table.

“The closet is comfortable.” Namjoon shrugged before voicing his concerns about the student’s work, “I’m pretty sure this student is gonna try to suck my dick for an A. This work sucks ass. How did she even get x=34? The answer is x=0!”

“I’m bad at math, don't look at me.” (Y/N) jotted a note down on her work before closing her notebook.

“But anyway- Back on track. Why do you want to start sleeping in the closet?” (Y/N) raised a questioning brow.

“Because the bed is awkward now.” Namjoon sighed before writing a bold ‘10/35’ down on the paper and circling it. (Y/N) glanced over at the paper that was marked red at every inch of it.

“You should put ‘see me after class’ on it. Maybe she’ll suck your non-ribbed demon dick.” (Y/N) suggests as she puts away her notebook. Namjoon’s fist hit the table in annoyance with a loud sigh that definitely said ‘i’m not getting some dumb bitch to suck my dick.’ The girl snorted, “Geez, no need to be so rough on the table.”

“Stop bringing up my non-ribbed demon dick.” Namjoon glared across the table.

“You admit that it’s not ribbed? That’s rough, man.” (Y/N) sighed sympathetically. “Some people are into that, you know.” Namjoon facepalmed, a bit too harshly, a loud smack echoing in the cramped apartment. “No need to be so rough, Casper.”

“You’d probably like it rough, and why the hell are you so bent on the fact that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon glared, moving onto the next student’s paper.

“We’ve taken the god damn BDSM test together, Casper. You KNOW I'd like it rough.” (Y/N) said in a smart-ass tone, knowing for a fact that they’ve done the test before.

“That shit lies,” Namjoon declared, “I’m not a bottom.”

“We know sweetie, we know. The test did you dirty.” (Y/N) weighed her options before ultimately deciding not to cross the room to comfort her demon. “But you know, the test DID have some direct questions-”

“You mean like the golden showers?”

“Ew, why would you even bring that up.”

“You said ‘direct questions.'” Namjoon shrugged.

“That question was traumatic.” (Y/N) shuddered, “But anyway, You can keep sleeping in the bed. It’s only awkward for you. Plus you can’t even be a demon dreamcatcher from a closet.”

“I can and I will. Now go get ready for bed. I'll join you in a bit. I have to email the kids' advisor.”

[:] Oh wow, another spliter [:]

“What’s awkward about this?” (Y/N) asked, ignorant to the fact that it was very awkward. Her legs were wrapped around the demon’s waist, who was laying down as straight as a log uncomfortably.

“Everything is uncomfortable.” Namjoon tried to push (Y/N) off of him.

“This is where you’re wrong,” (Y/N) states. “Your chesticles are very comfortable.” She furthered her point, by moving her head and weirdly nuzzling her cheek into his chest.

“(Y/N) get off of me.” Namjoon was now really uncomfortable.

“No.” (Y/N) pulled Namjoon’s log-body closer.

“Please?” Namjoon wiggled some more, “Seriously (Y/N) get off.”

“No…” (Y/N) held Namjoon tighter, “Imma go sleep now.”

“Ok (Y/N).” With that Namjoon pushed (Y/N) up and off of him and climbed out of bed and into the closet.

(Y/N) whined, “Nooooooo!” She looked at the closet through her eyebrows. “Are you hiding something from me?” She accused the demon.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon opened the closet door a bit.

“Oh my god- are you a closet gay?” She gasped loudly.

“WHAT?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) from the crack in the doorway.

“It’s okay! You don’t need to use a fake confession to hide it from me.” She comforted the demon, “I will support you 1000 percent.”

“I’M NOT GAY!” Namjoon wiggled around in the closet before emerging from the space.

“Okay okay- but just so you know, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, Casper. Closeted or not.” She hummed, her words being muffled as she slowly put her face into the mattress.

“It’s been awkward since you basically called me a cradle robber, you stubborn piece of shit.” Namjoon blushed at his confession.

“I thought you didn’t care about that earlier.” (Y/N) looked back up, taking a deep breath of air after almost suffocating herself.

“Well I did.” Namjoon huffed out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Well that sucks,” (Y/N) said blandly, “I was thinking of saying I love you.”

“The fuck- wait,” Namjoon’s eyes widened.

“Night night.”

[:] Cockadoodle-Doo it's morning [:]

The next morning came around quickly for (Y/N), though I wouldn’t say the same for Namjoon. Having him overthinking the “postponed” love confession from (Y/N). Meanwhile, though the night was quick, the morning dragged the girl by the toilet paper stuck at the bottom of her shoe.

Frown plastered on her face, seemingly deep in thought. She was unmoving in her seat aside from her wrist moving to stir the half eaten cereal in front of her. Namjoon sat across from her, “You can stop thinking, you’re going to hurt your head.”

The insult snapped the girl out of her concentration, she looked up and clicked her tongue. “I was just thinking about you. You want me to stop doing that?”

Namjoon raised a brow, “Depends on what you were thinking about.”

“I was wondering if we could summon the boys,” (Y/N) smiled before continuing, “Maybe get my socks back…”

“Are you saying you’d enjoy the company of your socks more than you with me?” Namjoon asked rhetorically with a shocked expression. (Y/N) gagged and rolled her eyes.

“Namjoon…” she said with a honey coated tone. “Are you saying you don’t know that I know you’ve used MY socks before?” The accused had a shocked look on his face that looked like he was on the verge of throwing up.

(Y/N) started snickering, amused by the demon’s expression. “As if I'd use your cheap ass yellow striped socks,” Namjoon aimed his nose at the ceiling. The girl laughed harder, finding the insult to her socks a bit too amusing.

“Okay, back on topic,” she said in between giggles, “We’ll get back to this later.” Namjoon shook his head, unamused unlike the person across from him.

The offended sock insulter cleared his throat, “We should have enough time before we need to go to the school to summon one of them.” He said in a factual voice, (Y/N) nodded as she took a glance at the time that read 7:23 am.

“What did we need again?” She got up from the stool she sat on, abandoning the poor soggy cereal. Namjoon got up also with a hum of thought.

“Candles and a lighter are the main things, obviously,” He says. (Y/N) nodded going into one of the kitchen cabinets for the items. “And if we’re summoning all of them, we’d need offerings…” Namjoon drifted off.

(Y/N) put down the candles onto the marble counter and looked at Namjoon questionably, “So… we need another hamster and dog?” This made the demon pause before nodding slowly, the situation becoming a bit more difficult than it needed to be now.

“And then what about Hobi? What he took wasn’t exactly… a physical object?” She also put it into consideration and clicked her tongue. “I’m still mad at you for sacrificing my literal source of happiness and good luck for yourself.” Namjoon’s jaw dropped.

“I thought we were past this!” He threw his hands up in the air, (Y/N) flipping him off simultaneously.

“Maybe you were,” she sassed, pointing fingers with a half assed glare.

“Technically, it wasn’t a sacrifice, (Y/N).” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well-” She was cut off by the demon.

“Nuh uh, It was just him choosing to leave and wanting to stay,” he snapped, not in a harsh way though.

“But-”

“You know what, let’s just try and summon them another day. I don’t think it’d work anyways.” Namjoon said, dismissing the topic by waving his hand, taking a glance at the tree outside.

[:] Wooshy flash back time I guess [:]

“Why are you still here?” (Y/N) looked at Namjoon, “I mean weren’t you supposed to leave this year?”

“I was supposed to leave instead of Hobi last year. I asked to stay.” Namjoon was sitting nonchalantly in one of the lounge chairs in her parents' living room reading the book she was supposed to be reading for school.

“Why didn’t you leave when you were supposed to?” (Y/N) looked at the demon, a look of confusion evident on her features.

“Who else is supposed to write your book reports for school?” Namjoon smirked while holding up the book before going back to reading said book.

“Then why did Hobi leave? Did he not want to be attached anymore?” (Y/N) began to tear up.

“It’s not that. I asked to stay because I felt I wasn’t ready to leave yet and Hoseok felt he was ready to leave. Most of the time, we leave when our time comes (Y/N). Hobi and mine were at the same time and I wanted to stay so I stayed.” Namjoon smiled at (Y/N).

“But why didn’t Hobi want to stay?” (Y/N)’s tears were flowing freely at this point.

“(Y/N)! Are you crying?” (Y/N)’s mom came rushing downstairs to investigate why her only child was crying.

“I’m fine.” Even (Y/N) wasn’t convincing herself, “Really Mom, I’m just over exhausted. I’m gonna go up to my room.”

[:] And back to the present :) [:]

“Are you almost ready to go?” Namjoon popped his head into the bedroom, “We have to leave soon if you want to be on time for school.”

“I’m almost ready, relax. And don’t you have a class to teach and a non-ribbed dick to get sucked by that one bitch for an A?” (Y/N) scoffed from where she was printing an essay that Namjoon had written the night before.

Namjoon started counting down from five, “Five- You better fucking get your ass in gear or you’re gonna be late. Four- Seriously (Y/N). Three- Professor Howard can’t give you another pass just because he likes you. Two-” Namjoon got cut off by (Y/N).

“I’m ready, asshole.” (Y/N) looked at him, “You better not let that bitch Brianna suck your dick.”

“I won’t let her suck my dick!” Namjoon raised his hands in defense, “What about my toes though?” (Y/N) looked at the demon with a face of disgust and looked at him from head to toe.

“Are you Namjoon or Taehyung?” She squinted, looking at his face.

“It was a joke!” Namjoon smirked, “But I'm sure she’ll do it for an A anyway.”

“I’m done with this conversation Casper.” With that (Y/N) slung her bag over her shoulder and left.

“Hey wait!” Namjoon grabbed his own bag before speed walking after (Y/N).

[:] Professor Casper or Daddy Casper? [:]

“SO.” (Y/N) sat down across from Namjoon in his office, “Rumour has it that you’re dating a cute english-lit major and are up for evaluation. What say you in your defense?”

“I mean I am dating a cute english-lit major. But I’m not up for evaluation, I used my demon charms to get out the punishment.”

Namjoon looked at (Y/N) seriously.

“Did you actually?” (Y/N) gaped at Namjoon.

“No. I explained that dating you is punishment enough.” Namjoon smiled, his dimples popping.

“Bastard.” (Y/N)looked at Namjoon.

“Bitch.” Namjoon smirked at (Y/N) before leaning over the desk and kissing her on the forehead, “I love you.”

“Good.” (Y/N) blushed.

There, through the window of the office, there were 6 peeping toms watching the couple.

“Adadada-uda,” Taehyung stuttered, “THEY’RE SO CUTE!”

“This looks like it’d turn out like a straight porn video on the hub,” Yoongi says bluntly.

Jungkook looked at Yoongi, “Ew straight.”

“Moving on,” Seokjin cleared his throat, “Does anyone remember when (Y/N) said I love you back?”

A series of “No’s” could be heard.

“Maybe we weren’t watching!” Jimin raised his hands, “But when were we not watching?”

“Oh I know!” Hoseok interrupted, “When they split up because of classes earlier. We left Yoongi hyung in charge just in case something happened.”

“I took a nap and must've missed it.” The guilty demon shrugged.

“No, (Y/N) definitely isn’t someone who confesses straight up.” Seokjin said, stroking his chin. The rest nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, that's why she didn’t have a man when we were still there.” Jungkook snorted.

“No JK, we all know the reason why (Y/N) was always single. Was because she was pining after Namjoon.” Jimin stated the obvious.

[:] Damn. Imagine having someone to kiss in public. Or at all. [:]

“So how do you reckon the staff caught onto us… I mean PDA really isn’t our thing.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “Who have you told?”

“I haven’t told anyone!” (Y/N) frowned, “Maybe someone saw us go home together? I bet it was that bitch Brianna. She gives off the stalker vibes.”

“I’m not gonna let her suck my dick.” Namjoon looked at (Y/N), “And she’s already failing my class so even if I did let her suck my non-ribbed punisher, she still would probably only have a D-.”

“Hey- I thought we stopped referring to your dick as non-ribbed.” Namjoon raised a brow, making a face that said ‘you’re-the-one-who-started-it.’

Reading his expression (Y/N) glared at the demon, “Technically you’re the one who started it because you freely admitted it freely.”

“What makes you find out the hard way that my dick isn’t ribbed?” Namjoon looked at (Y/N) suggestively before flopping namtiddie first into the couch.

“I think I would've preferred finding out the hard way.” (Y/N) flopping onto Namjoon’s hard back.

“So I can’t even have the couch to myself?” Namjoon groaned before realizing what (Y/N) meant by ‘finding out the hard way,’ “Are you saying you rather had found out in the heat of the moment after having prepared yourself for a ribbed demon dick?” Namjoon leaned his head up to bump (Y/N) who still had her fat ass on his back, “I can’t breathe, get off.”

(Y/N) rolled off of Namjoon before plopping herself down in front of Namjoon, “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

[:] Smh stalkers at every moment [:]

“And I got a big fat ass!” (Y/N) shook her ass while singing off-key.

“Your ass is everything but big, baby.” Namjoon passed (Y/N) to reach for the garlic from the spice cabinet.

The girl turned and looked at Namjoon with an offended look, “You know. As my rental boyfriend, you’re supposed to be nice.”

Garlic forgot, Namjoon turned to (Y/n) and grabbed her waist, “I’m not your rental boyfriend and you know that.”

(Y/N) laughed, “Okay go off I guess, not my rental boyfriend.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes before pushing Namjoon away.

“Woman,” Namjoon placed a hand over his heart, “You wound me.”

(Y/N) turned around and smiled at her demon, “I could argue that you’re the one that wounds me.”

“I do not wound you.” Namjoon scoffs, “But I could very well wound you if you keep saying i’m a rental boyfriend, love.”

“Well we wouldn’t want you to wound me now would we,” (Y/N) smiled up at Namjoon before leaning in and placing a quick peck to his lips, “I love you.”

Namjoon smiled before returning (Y/N)’s peck with a chaste kiss, “I love you too, baby.”

*Meanwhile from the dining room 6 men were watching from not so afar*

“Hyung! Hyung! Did you see that!” Jungkook excitedly pointed towards the couple in the kitchen.

Yoongi groaned, “See what?”

“Le gasp! How could you have missed that!” Taehyung held a hand over his heart, “(Y/N) initiated affection for once!”

Jin smiled, “It really was adorable.”

[:] Oh look, you're at the end. [:]

“Every kiss begins with consent.” Namjoon wiggled his shoulders while grading papers at the table.

(Y/N) smirked before leaning over the table and planting a large whet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek.

“Rude.” Namjoon scoffed before pulling (Y/N) in for a proper kiss.

“You know that kiss didn’t have much of my consent in it.” (Y/N) smiled before leaning in for another kiss.

“I don’t think I consented to that either though.” Namjoon smiled.

“Get back to work baby.” (Y/N) nudged Namjoon towards his pile of papers.

“Yeah yeah.” Namjoon smiled before looking down and putting a big red ‘F’ on a paper clearly marked Brianna Simms.

“When will she just drop the class?” (Y/N) chuckled, “Dumbass.”

do not repost, translate, or claim as your own. :]

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beauty-and-passion · 3 years ago

Text

My True Identity: foreshadowing and cruel irony

I promised this analysis long ago. I promised I would have finally started the rewatch.

And here I am. After all this time, it's finally rewatch time.

Before proceeding with this, let me clarify a couple points:

These analyses won't have a clear schedule. As you know, some episodes take a lot of time, while others are much simpler and/or shorter. I will just post every time I finish an analysis.

Not all episodes might be worth an analysis. Some might be fused into one post, others might be completely ignored. That doesn’t mean they’re useless, but only that I personally have nothing to say about them.

For now, I don't plan to talk about episodes I talked about, like DWIT and POF. But who knows, maybe there will be something else to add, when I'll come back to them? Still, for now don't expect anything new for these two episodes.

These are all my personal thoughts, so I could be completely wrong about everything. If you disagree/agree/want to add something, please feel free to do it.

As always, I might talk about all sorts of themes, so read at your own risk.

And now, let's begin.

_______________________________

An unclear plan

When he looked back at the first episode of what would've become Sanders Sides, Thomas himself admitted he had no clear plan about what he wanted to do. Would he film just a bunch of vlogs with these characters taken from his Vines? Would he do silly, funny sketches and talk about some random theme every time? He had no idea.

And this episode shows it: it really looks more like a simple, light-hearted vlog with funny characters, rather than what it would've become.

And this is probably what makes it a very intriguing start. Looking at it in retrospect, you can find a lot of stuff. You can see a lot of cruel irony, considering what these characters are saying and who is saying what. You can see a lot of points that will actually be discussed throughout the series. And you can even notice a lot of foreshadowing.

_______________________________

The main point of Sanders Sides

[Thomas]: Do I really know myself as well as I should? (...) I need to have a sit-down with myself, figure myself out, and maybe come to a better understanding that we all could learn from! Let’s do this!

This first episode might not take the future developments of the series into consideration, but the main point was still here.

Thomas doesn't know himself well enough. There's a lot he has to figure out. He needs to talk with himself and learn more.

Considering who are the last two sides Thomas learned about, this is just adorable. Look at this young Thomas, so cute and naive, thinking: "Oh yes, I will learn more about myself and it will all be fun and games! :DDD". So adorable, he has no idea what the future has in store for him.

This also connects to another point I mentioned in my analysis about the Dark Sides: before starting the series, Thomas didn't know his sides well enough. And we can see it in the way they interact between them and with Thomas.

For example, this part:

[Morality]: And no matter what, no one knows you better than yourself. Am I right, Tony? [Thomas]: Not my name. [Morality]: Then what is it?

I know it was a joke, but it was also a confirmation. Not even his own heart knows him well. Thomas never truly spoke with his sides - and they never truly spoke between them. They've always played a role - the teacher, the prince, the dad. Now they can start knowing each other.

_______________________________

Possible foreshadowing about Roman's arc

[Thomas]: Like, okay, relationships (...) where do I stand in those regards? [Princey]: I have a pretty ideal vision of love... There's someone out there for me... One true love... [Logic]: But you tend to overthink things, rule out possibilities with logic, dream up obstacles with each new connection you make... [Thomas]: And that when the anxiety kicks in. Maybe that’s why I haven��t found a person for me yet.

Oh boy, I can feel the last episodes and Asides looming over me.

Let's analyze each part of this conversation:

1) Thomas (and Roman) has a pretty ideal vision of love. One true love waiting for him. And now, guess what? Thomas is in love with Nico. And we all remember how Roman welcomed the idea of this new love in their lives.

[Roman]: I so... SO badly want this. I- I'm desperate for it...

And also how amazed he was, when they came back home:

[Roman]: A POET! To top it all off, he's a poet!

Considering the above premises, would it be so difficult for Roman to start idealizing this relationship with Nico? To consider Nico the “one true love” he talked about? To put him on a pedestal and, at the same time, search inside him all the characteristics the one true love should have?

This could lead to a very interesting possibility: Thomas putting Nico under the pressure of being his perfect man, to have all those characteristics his dreamy, romantic side wants to see. All while considering him incredibly perfect to the point of becoming inhuman.

All of this could end up only one way: scaring Nico. Maybe to the point of driving him away from Thomas.

2) Thomas overthinks, “rule out possibilities with logic” and dreams up obstacles. Could this also be a possible foreshadowing?

At the end of FWSA, when Thomas asked if they were ready for this relationship, Virgil stopped smiling, all while the camera slowly zoomed on him. The message was clear: Virgil isn’t ready for a change yet.

So we have Roman, who sees Nico as the perfect, ideal man of his dreams. And we have Virgil, afraid of changes, overthinker by nature and prone to self-deprecation.

The ingredients are all here: it is very possible that Thomas/Roman will put Nico on a pedestal and, the moment Nico is scared by Roman's adoration, Virgil starts to freak out and to talk bad about himself, because why someone so perfect and dreamy like Nico would ever love someone like Thomas?

This could potentially lead to a heated confrontation between Virgil and Roman that could be the metaphorical last nail on the coffin: Roman is already hurt because Patton sided with Janus. Nico drifting away from Thomas and Virgil's self-deprecation might convince him that yes, Thomas is truly bad and unworthy of love like Virgil says. He himself is bad and unworthy because he's not the perfect Creativity he should be.

And this can be a great starting point for his character arc.

_______________________________

OH THE IRONY part 1: no one learned anything (yet)

[Morality]: But that’s okay. The important thing to keep in mind is nobody’s perfect. Everyone comes with their own flaws. [Thomas]: Including me. [Princey]: Yes, someone will accept us, flaws and all. Until that day, I shall learn to love... myself.

Oh hey, look: the end of POF and Roman who still hasn't learnt nothing.

Jokes aside, I love how Patton is the one who says that everybody has flaws, but he excludes Thomas. It's Thomas himself who says he has flaws as well.

Doesn't that remind you of anything? Like this moment in SvS?

[Patton]: Well... Nobody's perfect... Except for Thomas! He loves his friends!

Patton saw Thomas as perfect and pure from the start. I love this, because it's very subtle and you don't notice it - until the events of SvS and POF.

But while Patton is finally learning (after almost 30 episodes) that Thomas isn't perfect, Roman is still very far from his goal of loving himself.

That's probably why he needs a romance this much: by focusing on someone else, he can easily ignore how much he doesn't like himself and his flaws.

And hey, I can even guess the name of these "flaws" he doesn't like so much.

_______________________________

These words are not foreshadowing at all

[Logic]: Um... Are we bringing up flaws now? Because if so, get ready to take a lot of notes. [Thomas]: Oh, uh... [Logic]: -continuing- Okay, you ready? Here we go. You procrastinate A LOT. [Morality]: You can be a bit selfish with your food and your other belongings... [Princey]: You’re definitely not the most adventurous person... [Thomas]: Okay, maybe this was a bad idea if I'm supposed to be learning to love myself. [Logic]: Ah, but remember, everyone has flaws.

Let's not forget that Thomas still had no clear plan, while filming this episode. This was supposed to be just a vlog.

But look at how the universe made these characters say these things. Look at dear sweet Patton, bringing up Thomas’ selfishness. How cute, he really has no idea what episodes are waiting for him.

And Roman brings up Thomas’ fear of changes. Awww, how cute, he has NO IDEA of the guy that will become his worst nightmare and his bestie at the same time <3

_______________________________

OH THE IRONY part 2: just look who's talking

[Morality]: Well, it’s important to be nice to ourselves and cut ourselves some slack every once in a while... [Princey]: Wouldn’t want to be our own villain, would we?

LOOK WHO’S TALKING.

Just look at the absolute irony of Mr. Selflessness talking about the importance of being nice to ourselves. Mr. Thomas-Should-Be-A-Martyr saying that cutting us some slack is good.

All while Mr. I-Thought-I-Was-Your-Hero tells us that we don’t want to be our own villain, right? Right?

_______________________________

Three fundamental questions

[Princey]: Well, what do you wish to look for in a relationship? What are you hoping to gain from having another person in your life? [Thomas]: Um... I don’t know. Someone who’s a nice compliment to me... someone who wants a long stable relationship... someone who indulges in the same sense of humor, and um... someone who can binge-watch cartoons with me.

This might be considered another foreshadowing of Thomas and Nico's relationship - maybe even the solution of the drama that will take place, after Roman and Virgil's fight we suggested before. The best solution: not putting Nico on a pedestal and seeing him as the perfect man, but appreciating him for who he is, for the normal guy he is - a guy Thomas loves and nothing else.

[Logic]: With everything you've learned, what do you wish to do with your education? [Thomas]: Ooh... I am not sure... I’d love to figure out ways to help the environment. Science was always my strong point and I love chemistry.

As I said multiple times, I think Thomas' decision to leave chemical engineering and become an actor will play a huge role in Logan's arc. And this question slighty hints at this.

At this point in time, Thomas still wants to use his education in a fruitful way. He still wants to use science, it's still his main goal. Doing silly videos is just an addition. "A good start", as he said:

[Thomas]: I think just being able to put out silly light-hearted content into the world is kind of a good start. It makes me really happy to do that. [Logic]: Well there you go. A good foundation.

And that's how Logan considers it as well: just a foundation. Not something that will take a huge part of Thomas' life. These videos are just a start.

This explains his reactions in the following episodes, especially how much he insisted on Thomas having a real job: after all, these videos are not something serious. Why focusing so much on them?

This could potentially be the starting point of Logan's increasing frustration and the reason of his final snap in season 3, that would also start his character arc.

But Patton’s question is what really surprises me:

[Morality]: What positive impacts do you inevitably hope to bring to this world?

Not only this screams POF, but it shows something for the first time: that Patton is silly, but he’s also clever. He’s not a complete idiot. He likes to be silly, he IS silly, but this question proves he's a lot more mature than he seems.

And if you think this is just a one-time thing, don't worry, we'll see it again in the future.

Is this a foreshadowing of my next analysis? Well, the episode was all foreshadowing, why can't I foreshadow something as well? ;)

( Support me on Ko-fi )

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

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#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #rewatch #thomas sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts patton #ts roman #ts logan #remus sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #ts remus #ts virgil #ts janus #my true identity #analysis

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silkling · 3 years ago

Note

Thank you that's so sweet??? Aaa that means a lot-

I have thought of a few prompts actually,,

One being, TFA Prowl and Jazz where Prowl was some sort of fae creature that could disguise himself as a normal bot, and he got dragged to Yoketron. Either Yoketron knew what he was or he entered a deal with him by accident, but Prowl was like...honor bound to stay and learn from him after making that agreement. Maybe Jazz is there visiting as a previous student, and weird things about Prowl keep catching his attention.

The other was far more angsty- what if Sigma 17 were woken up earlier, like halfway through the war when their pod is discovered by an Autobot ship.. mby Blades' brothers are still aware and he can feel them, but otherwise they're just dumped straight into war. Poor bbys.

Oh my god. You. You just. You don’t know what you did. Cause I like, really like fae lore. So as soon as I saw that prompt my brain demanded it be written. But I also really like your other prompt. So I’m going to do them both! This one is the fae Prowl one. I’ll post the second prompt in another post. But seriously I’m going to have so much fun with this. You have no idea what you have unleashed in my brain.

———————————————————————————————————

Yoketron watched as the lithe, elegant youngling was hauled into his Dojo by Warpath. He arched a brow when he noticed the muzzle clamped on his face, and then was even more surprised when he realized just how much the mechling was capable of thrashing in the larger Autobot’s hold, despite the stasis cuffs clamped around his wrists. The youngling, a two-wheeler now that Yoketron was able to see him more clearly, was dumped on the floor and pinned under a heavy red pede.

“You sure you want to take this one, Master Yoketron? I really think he’s more deserving of the stockades, filthy little deserter.” Warpath snarled.

“Indeed, Warpath. I am quite certain.” Yoketron hummed. “I assure you, if he truly does not wish what I have to offer than I am quite capable of bringing him to the stockades myself.”

Warpath only grumbled, growling one more time at the small youngling, and then he bowed and left.

As soon as the weight on him was gone, the mechling’s thrashing kicked up a notch and he tried to sit himself up. It seemed though, that despite his surprising amount of maneuverability he didn’t have enough control of his limbs to actually do so. Yoketron knelt down, reaching out and pressing the release mechanism of the muzzle. It dropped to his waiting palm and he subspaced it, retracting his hand just in time to avoid razor sharp fangs snapping shut on his fingers. As it was, those deadly dentae clacked together harshly as the mechling’s jaw closed on empty air. Yoketron arched a brow, frowning. Odd. Usually it was only warframes who had such sharp fangs, and this little one was most definitely not a warframe.

Yoketron ignored the furious glare, casting a critical gaze over the mech laying prone on his dojo floor. At least he had stopped thrashing, though now his frame was so tense the armor plating was clamped shut too tight to get even a metal wire in between the individual armor pieces. Yoketron returned his gaze to meet the glowing visor, bright with the fury and rage that was strong enough for him to practically taste in the youngling’s field.

He hummed as if to himself, reaching behind him to undo the stasis cuffs, only to stop when fangs pierced and dug into the armor of his forearm. He shot the mechling an unimpressed look, his free hand reaching and digging fingers into the soft protoform of his face behind his jaw. His body almost spasmed, his mouth forced open, his fangs and lips stained with Yoketron’s energon. The ninja master ignored the fear that started to sour his field, as well as the way his ventilations increased until he was panting harshly, mouth forced open and glaring helplessly at the older bot. Instead, he reached out again, removing the stasis cuffs, then releasing his jaw and straightening as he stepped back.

He watched the young mech get to his pedes, his movements graceful and elegant even as his field radiated rage and fear. Yoketron found his optics narrowing faintly at the way his every movement was soundless. There was no shifting metal as he rose, to whirring systems as his frame shifted and settled, so sound of pedes against wood as he got up and stood straight. It was…off. Not enough to make a normal mech think anything was wrong, but just enough to get Yoketron’s attention. Combined with his fangs, it was starting to paint a picture. Not to mentioned the slightly tapered finger tips he had noticed as he’d removed the stasis cuffs. Fingers that flexed and clenched, and Yoketron noticed a half-second flash of sharpened claws before those hands relaxed and returned to normal. Yes, he was most definitely starting to get an idea of what this mechling was.

“Hello, young one.” he rumbled. “May I ask what you were doing hiding on Dojo property?”

The youngling growled, shifting towards the door. Yoketron let him. “What do you think? Trying to stay out of the war.” he barked. “It’s not my fight, after all.”

Yoketron hummed. “Perhaps not.” he agreed. “But those in charge will not see it that way, and will see you as little more than a traitor for not answering the call to fight. I am taking a risk in doing so, but if you wish to avoid the fight them I can offer you another option.” he stepped towards the youngling, optics narrowing. “So long as you are willing to learn, I would take you on as my student.”

The youngling snarled. “Fat chance! I’m leaving.”

“Certainly.” Yoketron agreed. “If you can make it to the door before I stop you, then you will be free to do exactly that, and I will ensure any and all charges against you are dropped.”

The youngling eyed him dubiously, but seemed to decide the risk was worth it because he was transforming and taking off in the next second. It had been a silent transformation too, which had raised only further alarm bells. Yoketron waited until he was close to the door, and then he moved. In a flash, he appeared in front of the mech, and a hard kick sent him tumbling out of his alt mode. Another kick, and he was flying back into the cabinet, which fell on top of him. Yoketron walked over and heaved it off, crouching to pin the mechling by pressing a hand between his shoulderblades.

“You have potential, little one. But if you are discovered and caught by the authorities then that shall all go to waste.”

Abruptly, the struggling form under his palm stilled and tensed, all anger leaving his field to be replaced by fear. “…what do you want?” he whispered.

“Your name, youngling. I believe Cybertron has lost enough of your kin. I have no desire to see another perish unnecessarily. The rest of the planet may be blind to it, but I am well aware of how necessary you are to the functioning of our world.” Yoketron said calmly. The yougling’s actions had confirmed his suspicions. He truly was one of the fae, a breed of Cybertronian long believed to be only myth.

The youngling was shaking faintly now, obviously frightened. Yoketron couldn’t blame him. While most civilians thought the fae to be the subjects of story and myth, any mech involved in government or military knew they were real, albeit very, very rare. There was a reason for that, a very unpleasant one, and it certainly didn’t help that any fae were were discovered were often captured and simply…never seen again.

“You know what that would mean.” There was an agonized note to the youngling’s voice.

Yoketron felt a twinge of regret. He did know, and it wasn’t something he was eager to do. But given the circumstances, it would be the best way to ensure this one’s safety. “I do.” he confirmed. “I promise you I will not abuse it, youngling. I seek only to ensure your safety and to see you grow. I cannot simply allow you to go so easily, for if I did then I would be questioned as to why I did not bring you to the stockades and it would bring more attention to you. This way, you will remain safe.”

“Then why offer to let me go in the first place?” he demanded.

“I believed it would make you feel better to know you had at least made an attempt.”

The youngling abruptly went limp, his field still fearful, but now also tinged with a dull resignation that made Yoketron feel a little sick to his tanks. He did not want to do it like this, but for the mechling’s safety was truly the only option, with the way Cybertron currently functioned. “Give me your name, youngling.” he encouraged, voice gentling.

The young bot reset his vocalizer, and looked up to lock his visor with Yoketron’s optics. “My name is Prowl.” he answered, and he could hear the reluctance as the young bot spoke.

As Prowl gave his name to Yoketron, his optics glowed a bright white for a brief moment behind his visor before fading back to normal. Yoketron himself felt a small pull at his spark, recognizing it as the tether that now bound Prowl to him. He lifted his hand from the fae’s back, watching him slowly rose to sit up. “I take your name to be returned to you when your tutelage is done, Prowl.” he said, and the bond that was latched against his spark strengthened and solidified. “Go. Past the door on your right is a hall. Turn left at the end, past the door there, and you will find the berthrooms. The one with the black door is the student’s room. You may call it yours while you remain under my care.” he said, voice gentle. “Rest. I will clean up here. Tomorrow, your training begins.”

There was a tug on his spark, ans he realized quickly that he had worded that too close to an order when Prowl winced, cringing back from him but obeying nonetheless. Yoketron frowned, distaste curling in his tanks. He would have to learn how to word what he said very, very carefully so it could not be viewed as an order. He knew the bond he had established by taking the fae’s name meant that Prowl would be compelled to obey what he was told, but he had no intentions of abusing that. It would be wrong to do so.

The youngling stood, then turned and left through the door. Yoketron listened to his pedes fade away, and then he himself was standing. He hadn’t expected his day to go like this, and he disliked how he had had to take on his newest student, but he couldn’t regret having done so. He did not want to see another fae fall just because Cybertron’s elite refused to understand them. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the broom from the corner and began cleaning. Tomorrow would be a long day.

——————————

Prowl found himself curled up in the berth after he had cleaned himself up in the washracks attached to the room. His spark felt heavy with the new bond tied around him, and he further tugged the mesh blanket wound himself as he thought about it. He hadn’t ever intended to get caught. He had snuck into the Dojo grounds because they looked mostly empty and he’d thought it’d be a good place to lay low while army “recruiters” were sweeping through the streets. The last thing he wanted was to be forcefully drafted. Being around so many mechs who he knew knew about the fae…well, he was good, but he also knew he’d probably have gotten caught eventually.

He had hidden himself well, even using magae to keep himself as undetectable as possible. But then that red mech, Warpath, had seen him as he’d been attempting to sneak into another area of the Dojo, and….that was that. He’d been swiftly pinned and cuffed, and when he’d kept trying to bite, the muzzle had been locked around his face as well. He hadn’t expected to be brought to the Dojo Master, and he had even less expected that the mech, Warpath had called him Yoketron, would know what he was. He was even more embarrassed about being caught because when Warpath left, he realized the large bot just visiting. But he had been caught, and Yoketron had trapped and bound him with his own magae, and now he was here. At least the older bot had promised that his name–and freedom–would be returned after he was finished being trained, but Primus only knew how long that would take.

It was days like this when Prowl loathed his heritage, loathed the fact he was a fae. He had been proud of it, once. Fae were beings of legend, after all. Stories said that in Cybertron’s early days, even before the great cities were built, fae and normal Cybertronians lived alongside each other. It was said that fae were gifted the abilities beyond that of a normal bot, including tapping into the world’s natural energies. They were able to feel this energy and occasionally draw on it to perform feats of great power. Fae also wielded their own unique form of energy, called magae, that allowed them to perform what most bots would call “magic”. Magae was what made up the entirety of a fae’s abilities, it was what made them fae. Magae came from a fae’s spark, was comprised of the energies and power of their own life force, and they could use it to connect to the sparks of other bots. Usually, that would entail taking a mech’s name and binding them to yourself. Though if one knew how, the process could be reversed, and a mech could take a fae’s name and bind them to themself, as Yoketron had done to Prowl.

He couldn’t blame the older mech. The part of his processor that was more logical could even be grateful. His reasoning had been sound, after all. There wasn’t really a way for Prowl to walk away from this without unwanted attention, without risking discovery. He knew what would have happened if he was discovered. The rest of Cybertron may have forgotten why the fae disappeared, but his people remembered. Fae had been powerful. Chosen by Primus to maintain the planet’s natural order and help ensure prosperity for His children, which included themselves. For a time, it had been fine.

But then mechs had begun to fear to extent of what fae could do, disliking that they were capable of tapping into the sparks of others. And so the fae had been hunted. To avoid extinction, his people had fled and disappeared, going to the shadows and staying there until they were eventually forgotten. They built up their own society, separate from the rest of Cybertron. Prowl remembered it, a little bit. He had been sparked there, but…somehow, he had gotten separated from his people and place of origin, and he’d never found his way back. It was hidden from the people of Cybertron, and any fae who got lost from it and didn’t know the way back would remain stranded outside forever.

That was what had happened to him. He didn’t remembered how, but…he did know his creators had been taken, or perhaps offlined, and they’d hidden him just before being caught. They’d never come back, and he had remained stranded from the place he’d been sparked in. After that, he was told he was found by a civilian family from Praxus, who brought him to a Youth Center there. Once he was big enough to take care of himself, he’d fled the Center, wanting to try and find his way home, but…he’d never been able to. He’d been in his own ever since.

Now, he was stuck, bound to a mech who claimed to want to see him safe and strong but he didn’t know if Yoketron was telling the truth. He could only hope he was. The alternative was that the old mech intended to use the bond for his own gain, or to turn him in, and Prowl…Prowl didn’t want either option. He sighed heavily, swiping a hand across his face, his visor set on the nightstand by the berth. His optics were a normal blue, though what made them stand out was the markings around his optics. It was why he wore the visor. The most distinctive features of what he was were his fangs and claws, but those were easy to hide, and the markings around his optics. Every fae had markings somewhere, he knew. He had just been unlucky enough to have them on his face.

The youngling sighed, forcing himself out of the increasingly depressing spiral. It couldn’t be changed. He just had to adapt and learn. He was good at that. He tucked himself into a tighter ball, knees pulled to his chest and mesh clutched tightly around his form. He closed his optics, trying to calm down enough to recharge. Today had been a very bad day. He just hoped the days to come wouldn’t follow in the pattern.

——————————

Prowl woke the next day to a quiet knocking on the door. He startled awake, feeling out of sorts and groggy as he pushed the blanket off him and sat up. That was when he remembered the events of the previous day, and he flinched away from the door and looked down. So, it was time to get up, he supposed. He sighed, then swung his pedes out of the berth and padded to the door. Upon opening it, he found the hallway to be empty, but he picked up the sounds of…something at the end of the hall, in the opposite direction of what he was thinking was the main room of the Dojo. He stepped out, closing the door behind him, and walked towards the noise. He came to a sliding door, and when he opened it he found what appeared to be some sort of dining room.

Yoketron was already there, setting two places at the table with fuel. When the door opened, the old mech looked up. “Ah, Prowl.” he greeted. “You look well, today. I am glad.”

Prowl squirmed uncomfortably, nodding. “I….yes.” he said lamely.

“If you wish, you may come and sit. I typically share morning fuel with my student before I begin lessons, when I have one under my care.”

Prowl blinked, realizing there was no order in that phrasing. Maybe Yoketron really wouldn’t take advantage? He nodded, sliding forward, closing the door behind him as he went, and sitting on the cushion provided. Yoketron hummed, satisfied, and went to the opposite end of the small table to take his own place.

“I wish to apologize, Prowl” he said. “Binding you to myself was not how I wished to take you on as my student, but from what I have learned of fae culture over my life I believed it to be the best way to ensure you remain safe and undetected.” he explained.

The two-wheeler looked uncomfortable, but he nodded regardless. “There’s nothing I can do about it.” he sounded resigned. “I get it, I suppose. I know how dangerous discovery is for one of my kind. But that doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“And I would not ask you to be.” Yoketron said patiently. He swallowed down some of his fuel, his gaze locked on the lithe youngling nibbling at his own meal. “I only wish so see you survive and grow strong enough that you can defend yourself.”

He took no offense when Prowl didn’t answer, and they consumed the rest of their meal in silence. When they finished, Yoketron stood. “If you would, I would appreciate if you cleaned your dishes and followed me. I will show you were you can put them, and then we can move on to your morning lessons.”

Prowl nodded, gathering his now empty dishes and following the old mech. He noticed once more that Yoketron had not phrased his request in a way that it might be interpreted as an order, and he felt grateful. While he still wasn’t happy about how things had turned out, he was starting to believe that just maybe the bond wouldn’t be abused after all. And if Yoketron was really telling the truth, then Prowl would someday be able to keep himself safe. He still wasn’t sure of this situation, and he didn’t trust Yoketron, but if things continued to be like this then maybe his time here wouldn’t be so bad.

——————————

Prowl was meditating. He did so fairly often these days, as it made his natural energies settle in a way they usually didn’t. Fae were constantly connected to the energy of Cybertron, and sometimes it was nice to let own own spark settle in a more peaceful rhythm as he let the energy of his world wash over him and surround him. It had taken him a while to learn the patience to do this, but he was glad that he had eventually managed. His processor settled, ventilations deep and even as he blocked himself out from the outside world. Why should he not? He knew he was safe here. He had nothing to fear.

A hand pressed to his spinal strut, between his winglets.

He jerked, his processor snapping back to itself as his optics abruptly snapped open. He let out a loud, startled yelp, helm shooting around, and his gaze locking on mech who was smiling faintly, expression wry and amused.

“Master Yoketron.” he did not wheeze, thank you very much.

“Prowl.” His master greeted, tone warm. “I apologize for startling you. I thought you would wish to know that it is time for afternoon fuel. It would be best to take it, I believe. The lessons I have planned for the rest of this orn are rather difficult.”

Prowl released a heavy, relaxed vent. He nodded, the harsh light of his optics dimming behind his visor as his systems realized he wasn’t under attack. “Of course, Master. Thank you for coming to get me. I apologize for not keeping better track of the time.”

Master Yoketron only shook his head. “Of course, young one. I understand the importance of meditation. I would not think to force you to stop early when I can prepare the fuel myself.” he hummed. “Though,” he cast his student a look. “I would appreciate if you did continue to prepare the fuel with me, in most cases.”

Prowl nodded, standing up and following his Master out the door of the small meditation room and down to the dining hall. “I would not think to abandon one of my tasks, Master Yoketron.”

“No, I do not think you would.” The old mech agreed. They stopped in the dining room, taking their respective seats. After a moment of silent eating, Prowl’s mentor spoke. “You have come very far since you first came to this Dojo, Prowl.”

Prowl paused, drawing back a little under the intensity of the gaze pinned on him. Yes, he supposed he had. He still wasn’t pleased that his teacher had had to take his name and bind him to himself to get him to stay, but he understood. Besides, he had come to like it, here. The old cyber-ninja was kind and fair, and he had never once forced Prowl out of his comfort zone or tried to abuse the bond, not a single time in the vorns since the fae had been dumped at his pedes. He stayed now because he wished to, not because he was forced to. The bond was still active, and Yoketron still held his name, but he had come to see this place as home and no longer tried to trick the cyber-ninja into breaking the bond. His Master still held his name, but Prowl would stay even if he did not.

“I suppose.” the fae said after a moment. “I am grateful to you, Master Yoketron. Even if I am not pleased as to how it happened, I am glad you took me as your student.”

The older mech relaxed, expression softening. “Indeed, young one. I feel much the same.” he murmured. “Now, I believe it is time we finish fueling. It will be a long orn yet.”

Prowl nodded, then picked up his cube of energon and took a sip. He didn’t know what his future would hold, but he, for once in his life, looked forward to what the coming stellar cycles would bring.

——————————

The coming stellar cycles, it turned out, would bring one of Master Yoketron’s former students. A mech named Jazz, who according to his mentor was visiting the Dojo for the Festival of Adaptus, and he intended to stay for the full deca-cycle the Festival took place on, as he was granted leave by the Elite Guard to do so. Yoketron had told him that Jazz had been his most recent student before he had taken in Prowl, and that the young cyber-ninja was apparently quite eager to meet their shared mentor’s newest disciple. Prowl wasn’t opposed to the visit, not at all. But in the vorns since he’d come to the dojo, he had relaxed and become more at ease, and so his magae itself had also become less tense and volatile. All that really meant, though, was that, now that he knew he was safe and at home, his instincts would let him behave in the way he wanted to about the Dojo’s guest.

Jazz didn’t know Prowl was a fae. He didn’t even know that a fae was in the Dojo. Which meant Prowl would be able to really mess with the mech and confuse him while he was here. He didn’t let his more mischievous tendencies be known often, but Prowl was a fae, and his people reveled in tricks and mischief. And now that someone new was coming, someone who wouldn’t know to anticipate it like Yoketron knew to, after living with Prowl’s rare pranks?

Well, Prowl was going to have some fun with Jazz.

——————————

Jazz didn’t know what he was expecting when he met his old Master’s newest student, but it most certainly wasn’t for the lithe mech to thrust out a hand, palm up, and say:

“Hello. Master Yoketron has told me about you. Would you like to give me your name?”

Now, the phrasing of the had been real funky, but Jazz hadn’t had time to think on it or even to tell the mech his name before Master Yoketron was putting a hand over his mouth and shooting the black and gold mech a very unimpressed look. The two-wheeler had huffed, arms crossing.

“I wasn’t actually going to do anything, Master.”

And Primus, but he’d sounded petulant. Jazz still didn’t understand that whole interaction, but then Yoketron was stepping away and the bot offered his hand out again. “My name is Prowl, and you may use it as a friend.” he’d said.

Upon getting no reaction from the Dojo Master, Jazz had stepped forward and taken his hand. Again, very funky phrasing, but Jazz was starting to think maybe the mech himself was just from a different walk of life than he was. “Name’s Jazz.” he’d introduced himself, and thinking that the second part of Prowl’s introduction must be important to the mech, he’d found himself copying it. “Feel free to use my name as a friend.”

The words had tasted oddly stiff in his mouth, but before he could say anything more Master Yoketron was shooing his student off to do some chores, and then he’d led Jazz to the berthroom reserved for Dojo guests.

Which, was where the Polyhexian now found himself.

Except…the berth was stood vertical against the wall. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was how Master Yoketron was storing them when they weren’t in use? But then, why hadn’t it been put back horizontal before he had arrived? Jazz was very confused. He shrugged, moving to pull the berth back down. Maybe his old teacher had simply forgotten, though Yoketron had never forgotten anything before. Old age, then? Yeah, Jazz would sooner believe that Ultra Magnus enjoyed bar fights.

He still had no idea how the berth had gotten like that, but maybe things would make sense after recharge. So, he slipped under the mesh blankets and let himself slip into unconsciousness. He was sure things would be less confusing when he was operating at his full abilities.

The next morning did dawn, and Jazz had woken up making the choice to just forget about the berth incident. He might ask his mentor at a later date, but for now he’d focus on just enjoying his time at th old Dojo. He slipped out of his berthroom, remembering from his own training that right about now was when the morning fuel was prepared. Sure enough, he slipped into the kitchen to find both Dojo residents preparing their shares. Jazz went to do the same, and after a a breem all three of them were seated at the table.

Jazz turned to Prowl, smiling. “So, mech, how’re you liking it at the Dojo? I heard through the grapevine your arrival here wasn’t exactly ideal.” he offered, remembering what Warpath had told the rest of the cyber-ninjas.

Prowl paused. “…it was not ideal, you are right.” he confirmed. “I am grateful for Master Yoketron taking me under his care, however. I find the Dojo pleasant.”

Jazz chuckled. “You’re a pretty well-mannered mech, aintcha?” he teased playfully. “I’d almost think you came from nobility.”

Prowl, amusingly, looked very offended. “It does not do to be impolite.” he sniffed.

Jazz smiled. “I ain’t disagreeing with you. But you can relax, you get me?”

Prowl simply stared at him, then scoffed and returned to his meal. Jazz didn’t take it personally. Dai Atlas was pretty stiff too. Some mechs just preferred structure and formality. Yoketron, as he often was during mealtimes, was silent. The rest of their fuel was consumed in that silence, and then Prowl and the Dojo Master were cleaning up and going off to the morning lessons. Jazz remembered those. They had been very….straining. He stood, cleaning his own dishes and then going to mediate until the other two were done for the morning. Plus, he hadn’t been able to mediate properly for a while.

A couple joors later, Jazz was done and got to his feet. Yoketron ans Prowl should be finished by now too, he knew, and he decided to walk though the garden to get to the main hall. Except…there were some odd metalli-plants in the garden, arranged in a perfect circle. Jazz didn’t recognize them, and he found it odd that they were planted that way. He could also detect a very, very faint energy coming from the circle. Curious, he walked over, intending to get close and touch the plants to examine them, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He looked back, seeing Yoketron, and his old teacher looked exasperated. “Prowl, I would appreciate if you would not attempt to trap Jazz in your circles.” he called out.

Prowl stepped out from the Dojo, almost looking like he was pouting, and the odd energy around the flowers disappeared. “You’re no fun, Master. I wouldn’t have done anything.” he grumbled.

Yoketron only shook his head, and invited Jazz to join them for some basic katas now that morning lessons were done. He agreed, but tacked that onto his mental list of weird things going on at the Dojo. He thought that would be the last time. It wasn’t.

That night, when he went to the washracks, the solvent came out mixed with glitter. Jazz barely avoided getting a very sparkly makeover. Then, the next orn, he kept getting lost. Master Yoketron had to rescue him from the meditation chambers after the 12th time he ended up there trying to get to the dining hall. After that, his Master having to stop Jazz from accepting fuel that Prowl had offered. Then, he’d woken the next orn to find his berth was gone. Just….gone. Even though he’d been in it. The odd things kept stacking up and up, until finally, half-way into his stay, he learned what it all was.

It was when Yoketron, Prowl, and he were fueling after the morning lessons. Prowl and Jazz were talking, and then Prowl had said the words that made Jazz feel very, very stupid:

“Words have power, Jazz, so of course phrasing is important in proper social interaction!”

He forgot what they were even bickering about, staring at the rotten little trickster in front of him with a gaping mouth. “You’re a fae.” he realized. How had he not figured it out sooner? Master Yoketron had taught him about the fae. All cyber-ninja knew about the fae! Then a new thought struck him. “You stole my berth!”

Prowl blinked, and he seemed to relax when Jazz’s reaction to the revelation wasn’t fear or an attempt to turn him in. Only indignation. “I will not apologize.” he deadpanned.

Jazz stared, and then a grin stretched his lips. “You clever, tricky little glitch.” he said playfully, enunciating each word. There was no genuine malice in his tone. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

——————————

Prowl snorted as Jazz regaled him with yet another story about his new superior officer, a mech called Sentinel Prime, and his immense stupidity. They were in Iacon, and it had been a long time since Prowl had been so far from the Dojo, which was in the outer edges on Praxus, on its own land. But he’d come to a pause in his training, as Master Yoketron had sent him on an optics quest. It was, apparently, a major test in the life of a cyber-ninja. It would allow him to discover what he wished to do with his life, as he was meant to travel and experience new things and explore, and when he had the answer he would return to the Dojo. And then he would begin a new level of his training, according to his teacher.

So he was in Iacon currently, enjoying an afternoon with Jazz. It had been many vorns since that fateful Festival of Adaptus, and the two young mechs had forged a strong bond. So when Prowl’s optics quest had brought him in the direction of Iacon, he’d commed the older mech and asked to be shown around. The fae was nervous about being so close to the headquarters of Autobot High Command, because he knew what they did to any of his kind they discovered, but he was confident in his abilities to remain hidden. Plus, he had Jazz, and he knew the white bot wouldn’t let him be put in danger.

They were sitting at Jazz’s favorite cafe, enjoying a selection of energon treats, when Prowl felt it. A tug at his spark. The bond he shared with Yoketron went two ways. The older mech held most of the control, but Prowl could still sense his mentor through it. It was one of the reasons he had come to accept it. And now…now, Yoketron’s spark felt like it was sputtering, like the mech it belonged to was in pain and his life was in danger. Prowl didn’t stop to think. He threw down a fistful on shanix, and then grabbed Jazz’s wrist and dragged him away.

His processor was racing desperately, and he couldn’t even manage to answer his friend’s questions. He dragged them to an empty alley, and then closed his eyes, focused on his magae, and dug deep.

Every fae had a pocket plane of their own. It was like a bot’s subspace, but it wasn’t a subspace and it was large enough for a mech to go in to. It was like…a small sub-world of sorts, and only a fae could access it, and each fae had their own. The sub-world could be used as a quick method of transport. As long as the location one was trying to get to was on the same planet as they one they had left from, then a fae could use to to travel large distances in almost an instant.

Prowl had never accessed his, before. Oh, he’d tried. Countless times. But he’d never been able to. But now…now he had to. It was the only way they could get to Praxus, to Master Yoketron. So he dug inwards, pushing far, far deeper into his magae than he’d ever done before…and he stepped forward. He came into his sub-world, bringing Jazz with him, and the other mech was silent now, gaping im shock. He kept going though, and focused on Praxus, on the Dojo, and stepped again. Then, they were there. Prowl stumbled as he came to a stop in the Dojo, releasing Jazz and tripping onto his face. He didn’t notice when his visor was knocked loose as he shifted his gaze to try and find his Master.

Prowl and Jazz were frozen for a single sparkbeat at the scene they’d come into. A large mech with a hook in place of one hand and markings on his face was standing over their mentor. For a moment, Prowl thought the mech was fae. But he detected no magae from him, and the moment passed.

That was when the rage came. He snarled, his engine roaring his anger, and his claws lengthened to their sharpest, his fangs sharpening to their longest, and the golden markings around his optics glowed a brilliant, pale silver while his optics themselves glowed white. He surged up, and in the next sparkbeat he was between the mech and his master. He extended a hand, deadly claws resting on the mech’s chest plate, and before that hook could swipe at him he peeled back his lips, put his magae into his voice, and hissed a command.

“Stop.”

It wouldn’t hold for long, he knew. Without the mech’s name, the order wouldn’t hold much power. So, Prowl used the physical connection, and pushed with his magae, digging with his very spark into the core of the mech’s being. He had to be careful, he knew. Like this, it would be so easy to destroy, to rip the mech’s very soul apart and kill his being without even extinguishing his spark. But Master Yoketron had always warned him against using his powers to hurt others, telling him he was meant for greater than causing pain and suffering. Even if Prowl didn’t believe that, he still wanted to honor his Master’s wishes and his lessons. So he didn’t rip and tear and rend, like the more feral of his fae instincts demanded. Instead, he dug in, until he had what he wanted, and wove a strand of magae into the mech’s spark energy to ensure the bond would take.

Then he pulled himself back, and as the mech regained mobility he met those red optics and bared his fangs. “I know your name, bounty hunter.” he spat. “I know who you are, and your name is mine until such time I decide it is mine no longer. I have your name , Lockdown, and with it I have you.” Claws dug into metal armor as the mech froze, optics blown wide with shock.

“You will stop this, and you will leave, Lockdown. Now.” Prowl ordered in a snarling hiss.

Lockdown was tense, but the bond that Prowl had tied around his spark and the hold of his name over him forced him to obey. He stopped, and he left. It was only when the Dojo was silent that Prowl began to calm. He sagged, slowly releasing a heavy vent, and turned to the other two mechs. Jazz had helped Yoketron sit up, his helmet already returned to him, and both were staring.

“Uh, mech? What’s with the light show?” Jazz asked softly.

“Light show?” And then Prowl noticed the lights.

Small, glowing spheres of light and energy filled the room. Dozens of them. He gasped, reaching out to the nearest one and tapping it. It burst into flame, and Prowl jerked back. The flame burned out, and a new light replaced the old. Prowl hesitantly tapped another of the spheres, and this one burst into mist. It was then he understood what this was.

Every fae had a unique magae ability. It seemed these spheres were his, and each of them did something different. But what was the use, if he didn’t know which did what? Except….he did know. Or at least, his spark did. This was an ability born from his magae, from his spark. So….if he let that guide him..he would know.

He took a deep vent, focusing, and his gaze locked on one sphere floating to his right. He cupped his hands around it, bringing it to his mentor, and crouched by the older mech. He held his hands out, the sphere glowing above his clawstips.

“This one should help you, Master.” he said softly.

Yoketron hummed, then reached out and pushed his fingers into the light. It flared, dancing up along his frame, and small cracks and wounds in his armor sealed up while the heavier injuries lessened slightly in severity. He perked up too, as if he was given a boost of energy, and was able to stand up on his own after a moment. Prowl and Jazz followed suit, but before either could say anything another form burst into the Dojo.

“Master Yoketron, are you-“ the mech cut himself off, staring at the scene. “….I saw smoke coming from the Dojo?” he said, uncertain.

Prowl tensed, optics narrowing, but Jazz slid in to calm the situation. “It’s alright. We managed to deal with it.”

The mech’s uncertain gaze looked around the Dojo, clearly confused at the lights, until his optics found Prowl. Then they lit up with understanding, and recognition. He obviously realized what the fae was. But…he stepped forward anyway, holding out a hand. “You’re Master Yoketron’s student, right? My name is Springer, and I give it to you freely to use as you wish, though I hope you would use it as a friend.”

Prowl startled, not expecting a mech to give his name so easily. He had to cut the tie to his magae so it wouldn’t try to latch on and bind the mech. He took the offered hand, careful of his claws. “You are well met, Springer, and I would be pleased to call you my friend. My name is Prowl, and I offer it to you to use as a friend in turn.” he said smoothly, then stepped back.

Jazz grinned, throwing an arm around Prowl’s shoulders. “Nice, Prowler! But are you ever gonna explain what in the Pit you did? Cause I’m still trippin’ over tryin’ to figure it out.”

Springer cut in. “As much as I’d like to know too, maybe now isn’t the best time. We should clean up before the Elite Guard figures out something went down here. Prowl, that means you might want to cut your magae off, we don’t want you getting found out.”

Prowl tensed, but nodded stiffly. He could do that. He took a vent, closing his optics and relaxing. After a moment, the spheres started winking out, and his fangs and claws returned to their hidden states. His optics and markings stopped glowing, and he opened his optics to look for his visor. He quickly noticed it was broken on the floor, and he was about to panic when Jazz caught his attention and held out his own visor. His optics were bare for once, and Prowl found himself staring in quiet awe for a moment before a resetting of a vocalizer from Springer snapped his focus back. He snagged up the visor, slipping it on and shooting Jazz a grateful look.

“Great!” the green mech was smiling. “Now, let’s figure out this mess!”

Prowl hummed. “I believe I have an idea. Springer, if you will, I believe you and I would be best suited for cleaning up here. Jazz, would you mind helping Master Yoketron?” A glance back showed their mentor leaning against the far wall, seemingly in a meditative state. “And call in a medic, his wounds still need to be treated.”

The other two glanced at each other, and for a moment Prowl thought they wouldn’t take orders from an ungraduated student, but to his surprise they nodded and got to work. Prowl felt himself smile, and fell into place with Springer to clean up the mess Lockdown had made of the Dojo’s main hall. He had been worried that he wouldn’t find his place once he graduated the Dojo and left his Master’s care, but he was starting to realize he would have a place after all. He would find his acceptance and his purpose in the Cyber-Ninja Corps and the mechs who he would one day call his brothers-in-arms. He was sure of that now. He looked forward to it. For once, Prowl knew that his future was bright, and he was eager to meet it head on.

(Yoketron watched his youngest student interact with two of his others, and felt pride swell in his spark. Prowl had come so very far from that first orn, when he’d been a half-feral youngling trying to flee the world itself. He’d known he had made the right decision in choosing his successor when he’d seen how Prowl handled Lockdown, and when he’d seen how easily and freely he had accepted Springer as a comrade. Prowl was going to far surpass him one orn, was going to be a far better Master of the Cyber-Ninja Corps than he ever was. Yoketron couldn’t wait to see it.)

———————————————————————————————————

And there it is! What did you think? I hoped you liked it. I had fun. I like it. Fae Prowl is a little troll and you can’t convince me otherwise. Anyway, that story is finished! Yoketron lives, because I said so. Also, Prowl and Jazz totally become a thing later. Absolutely no one is surprised.

Aaaaannd…I think thats it! Yep, I’ve said the important stuff.

Until next time, folks!

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years ago

Text

Water Is Our Thing

Pairing: Bang Chan x female reader

Genre: fluff

World: The Water Guy

Warnings: stripping down to underwear

Prompt: “I love the ocean.” - #14 of Idea Starters

A/N: Finally, a sequel to my first Chan story I wrote. I really loved that world and have always meant to return to it. I hope those who enjoyed the first story can enjoy this also.

Word count: 2292

“The Water Guy, huh?”

Glancing up at your roommate’s teasing, you shifted your phone out of Eunhee’s view and got up from your bed you had been lounging on. “His name is Chan.”

“Is that who you’ve been messaging day in and out with since the party?”

You didn’t deny it, though you also didn’t answer verbally. As much as you adored Eunhee, you were still a little frustrated with her behaviour from that night.

Had you not gone to the party, nor sat down in the corner of it after feeling ridiculed for your love of water, perhaps you wouldn’t have met Chan there.

You were grateful for that.

Equally, you weren’t prepared to give her too many details just yet. Whilst you had a good time at the party with Chan, and subsequently held many engaging conversations over messenger, it was all starting to feel a little too good to be true.

“So when will you meet with Chan next?” Eunhee enquired, and you shrugged. Diving onto the spot you had been sprawled out on, Eunhee’s eyes grew round. “You haven’t sorted out a date yet?”

“We’re just chatting, Eunhee.”

“Chatting doesn’t lead to kissing,” she proclaimed, and you rolled your eyes, slipping your phone into your pocket and headed out to the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water.

Eunhee followed, taking it out of your hand before you could open it. You spun around to face her. “Hey!”

“Why not use the excuse of the bottle of water to get some time with him?”

You rolled your eyes. “I highly doubt he needs to meet with me just for me to buy him another bottle of water. Besides, I was the one to give Chan one first. And he’s already replaced that.”

“So?! Keep the water exchange going. I don’t remember an awful lot from that night, but I know whenever I looked in your direction, you were smiling brightly and laughing all the time. You don’t get that kind of opportunity often, Y/N.”

“There’s no rush,” you answered, taking the bottle from Eunhee’s hand and headed back into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

Glancing at the bottle of water in your hand, you then placed it down on your desk before reaching into your pocket for your phone. Staring at the two objects, you sighed.

The truth was you felt too nervous to ask Chan to meet up. Although the conversation flowed easily between you, you had somehow convinced yourself that the flirtation was just friendly banter instead.

Chan was generous with his kindness, and you had had enough time between the party and now to convince yourself the feelings you had that night might be construed from interest to friendship.

Having Chan as a friend would be a great thing too. Even if you harboured feelings for him already.

Hearing the messenger notification go off, you unlocked your phone and looked at the screen.

So what are you up to today? Do you want to meet up?

It seemed that Chan was making the first step to figuring out what this was between you.

“I’m glad you came out today,” Chan mentioned with an easy smile, and you reciprocated it, nodding once.

“I’m actually glad too.”

“Beats being at home studying, right?” You shrugged, and Chan whistled lowly. “Oh, so you’d rather a book’s company than mine?”

Giggling, you didn’t answer, simply walked along the boardwalk towards the restaurant you had agreed to have dinner at. Chan shifted in front of you, walking backwards whilst he grinned at you. You frowned. “Why are you doing that?”

“I’m just looking.”

“You’re going to end up falling over!”

“Nah, I’ve got good balance,” he commented, still staring at you. It unsettled your heartbeat, now thumping erratically in your chest.

Chan seemed satisfied after a moment more and swung back around, falling into step beside you.

Dinner was easy. The conversation, the sharing of meals, everything seemed to be effortless, much as it had been at the party. You continued the playful banter that had been established the first time you met, and by the time dessert arrived on the table, your sides ached from all the genuine laughter you had shared.

It wasn’t until it was time to go and pay for the meals that you got nervous. Pulling out your purse, you began calculating your share of the meal out loud. Inwardly, you were observing Chan’s reaction.

Would he swoop in and cover your amount? Then you could confirm this was a date and not just friends meeting up.

However, this also was an outdated thought. You could pay for your meal and still be on a date. Modern dating was more equal across the board, and you nodded to yourself, producing your card from your purse and stepped forward to pay.

Chan seemed thrown by the action but didn’t say anything either.

“Dinner was lovely,” you offered as you walked back down the boardwalk towards the car park.

“The night is still young, though, right?” Chan suggested and quickly pointed to the beach. “Shall we take a walk?”

“Sure! I have a brownie I need to digest,” you replied with a laugh, and Chan nudged you.

“It was pretty good.”

“You should know. You ate half of mine.”

“How was my sundae then?” he asked with a grin, and you laughed.

“Creamy.”

The chatter continued as Chan helped you down some rocks until you were on the dunes, a sudden imbalance toppling you into his side. Gripping onto his shirt so you didn’t fall completely, you felt his arms encircle your waist to support you.

“Easy there,” he breathed, and you were thankful the moon wasn’t bright in the sky tonight, hoping the flame of embarrassment wasn’t too obvious.

You thought he would step aside once you were upright, but a hand seemed to linger at your side, sometimes touching the small of your back or guiding you by the elbow away from the debris in the sand that wasn’t visible until you were almost on top of it.

Feeling more at ease with his touch and your heart finally stabilising over it all, you smiled up at Chan. “This is a date, right?”

“Took you long enough to ask,” he answered bemusedly, letting out an elongated breath after. “Is it?”

“I want it to be.”

“Why did you doubt that it was? I mean, I don’t let just anyone eat my sundae.”

You smirked. “That’s handy to know.”

“I liked you from the moment I sat down next to you at the party,” Chan confessed, and you gazed out at the sea whilst you silently rejoiced the reciprocation of feelings. “Maybe you put a spell over me.”

“The water was mixed with a love potion,” you agreed with a laugh, and Chan clutched at his heart dramatically.

“This is leading to love?! Oh no, all I wanted was some water.”

“Well, there’s plenty out there.” You gestured to the ocean, and Chan grinned, tugging you towards the wet sand.

Shrieking and trying to get away, you managed to hold up the shoes you had removed along the way and your skirt’s hem from the waves rolling in.

Looking around you both, Chan then chucked his sneakers up onto the dry sand. You questioned the behaviour until he started to unbutton his shirt. Discarding your own shoes, you then dashed to his side, eyes round. “What are you doing?!”

“You offered up the ocean. Aren’t you keen? I love the water.”

Frazzled, you nodded and then shook your head. “I love the ocean too, but I’m not about to just get undressed right here and… and-”

“Why not? We’re the only ones here. You do have underwear on, right?”

“What if I don’t?” you challenged, trying not to outwardly stare at his exposed chest.

He definitely was a swimmer, you deduced from the brief look you took at his defined torso.

Chan chuckled. “Well, I’m in for a treat then.”

“Are we seriously doing this?” you asked as Chan’s hands dropped to his pants.

Looking at you, he shrugged. “Why not?”

“Fine,” you concluded, reaching for the belt around your waist on the skirt.

You focused on removing your layers instead of looking in Chan’s direction, and you felt the same respect given to you. He lingered until you were ready, and once your outer layers were off, you dashed towards the sea, running into it and wading out until the water was up to your ribs. Chan caught up with you then, and you playfully flicked water at him, a gasp leaving him at the impromptu attack.

Flinging water back at forth at one another, you played for a few minutes before a wave gently rolled you closer to Chan.

And then a surge of passion crashed down on you both. Kissing him with demand with your bodies now flush, you were instantly overwhelmed. The salty kissing, the hot and cold temperature of the water and your bodies mixing was a sensory overload. You only parted long enough to catch your breath before you wound your hands up into his hair and enclosed the gap between your lips again, drowning with the lust enveloping you.

Chan’s grip tightened, holding you to him, not ready to let you wash back to shore as the waves rolled over you.

Eventually, the embrace softened, merely staring back at one another as your chests heaved with the exertion of what just happened. Chan tenderly hooked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I like the ocean a whole lot more now.”

“Water is our thing, huh?”

“Don’t say that to me with where my mind is right now,” he warned with a chuckle. You cocked your head to the side in confusion, and he adorably reached out to peck your lips before explaining. “I want a few more dates with you before I bring a shower into this.”

“Chan!” you cried and slapped his upper arm, laughing all the same.

You could understand his thought process. The physical attraction surging throughout you right now quite easily imagined how things could progress between you.

But you were equally grateful that he wanted several more dates before getting to that level of intimacy.

“Should we go see if I’ve got some towels in my car?”

You rolled your eyes. “We should have checked before coming out here.”

“Damp clothes aren’t the worst thing, are they?” he wondered, and you shook your head, taking the hand he held out to you to head back up to the beachfront.

Although his hands had run up and down your curves in the water, once on land, Chan was polite enough to put his back to you as you tugged your clothes over your wet skin. And once dressed, you shared a shy giggle and linked hands again, walking back up to the car park.

Towels were found, though with your clothes now back on, it wasn’t so much for drying but for warmth. Wrapping you up in one, Chan then pulled you into him, rubbing his hands up and down your back to help you out. Glancing out from your towel burrito, you stretched to place a kiss on his jawline, ceasing his action.

“I had fun.”

“I hope so.”

“Why is it so easy between us?” you asked, and Chan became thoughtful, his gaze soon shifting back to the sea.

“Maybe water is our thing,” he announced, and before you could tease him about it, he continued. “We’re able to connect like we do because we’re made of the same stuff.”

“Well, the human body is made up of around sixty-percent of water.”

Chan gave you a dry look. “I was trying to be inspirational.”

“I heard you, loud and clear,” you assured, nuzzling into him. “So, what’s our next water date going to be?”

“You mean I’m going to get you out of your clothes again?” he taunted, and you sighed heavily. “I’m kidding. Maybe we can go visit a pool?”

“Or a lake.”

“A waterfall sounds nice.”

“So does a shower right about now,” you cheekily threw out there, and Chan cursed under his breath.

“I think you should go home and have a shower to warm up again.”

“You too.”

“And then we’ll have to plan our next outing,” Chan added, and you smiled happily.

“It doesn’t have to just be with water.”

“I know,” he told you, kissing you softly. “But for now, water is our thing. And I don’t want to let this opportunity wash away.”

“I see what you did there.”

“I could share more puns.”

“I’m looking forward to hearing all of them.”

“Because you’re anchored to me?” he suggested, and you groaned. Chan laughed. “Too much?”

“I’m really glad I had that bottle of water at that party.”

“Can I make a confession?” Chan stared at you for a moment, a smile slowly creeping upon his lips. “I didn’t approach you because you had water.”

“What?”

“There was a tap in the kitchen. I could have gotten a drink from there,” he explained, and you wondered why that never dawned on you. Chan moistened his lips. “I uh, came over because I wanted to know who you were.”

“Wow.”

Delighted, you soaked in the statement and then tilted your head to the side again. “And now that you know a little more about me, are you happy that you came over?”

“I’ll let you know once we’ve graduated to showering together,” he wickedly answered.

Instead of laughing at his playfulness, you merely grinned. “We’ll see how the next water date goes first. Who knows if we’ll even make it to that shower.”

_________________

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter One

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Words: 4366

This is not my original work!

This is a fan retelling of one of my favorite mangas, Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime, whose original mangaka sadly passed away in 2014, leaving the series unfinished. I will start at the beginning of the manga and go through the entire story that has already been written. Once I reach chapter 20, which is the end of the published chapters, I will have to start extrapolating and imagining how the story may have played out. I hope I can do the original story justice and not disgrace the original author.

I will say that I will be fixing a few things that made me uncomfortable about the original manga, in that the female protagonist was 15, which I didn't like. Otherwise I will try to stick as close to the original story as possible, though I will be arranging it so that it's a bit more linear.

I hope you enjoy!

“Blessings to you, my lady,” The visitor said, bowing deeply in greeting. “My name is Aquamarine. I am a servant of the high king of Banfarie and a chosen attendant to the future queen.”

The summons wasn’t necessarily a shock, but it was definitely a surprise. Lilya, the third princess of the former kingdom of Tritsia, had come of age during a bloody war between kingdoms to either side, and her small, impoverished land had been caught in the crossfire. Tritsia had been absorbed by the victorious kingdom to the east, Couliea, and was now a vassal state. As such, the royal family of Tritsia were now hardly more than paupers in their own kingdom.

Lilya assumed that she would no longer be eligible for the marriage interviews that were famously, or perhaps infamously, conducted five times every month in the largest empire in the continent, Banfarie. The interviews had been happening since before she had even been born, but as of yet, no queen had been selected. Or rather, no woman had accepted.

The rules for who would be chosen for the interviews was standard for most monarchs looking for a queen: a woman of royal or noble blood with proof of lineage, at least eighteen years old but no older that twenty five, no previous marriages or engagements, no children, and… well… consent.

Lilya met most of the criteria… except for one thing: she wasn’t a high born woman anymore. Her family’s royal status had ended when the kingdom was absorbed into another. Besides, even when her father had been king, they had never exactly been what anyone would consider proper royalty. Her father worked in the fields with his people, doing the same back-breaking labor as his subjects. Back then, she could hardly be called princess, but now she was nothing more than a peasant farm girl, more suited to feeding chickens and mucking out stables than attending grand balls and high teas.

So there had been quite a stir when their unusual guest came to deliver the summons. She was a woman who appeared very young in age, no more than perhaps sixteen, though she spoke as if she were a far older creature. She had a short bob haircut and a thick fringe, but it wasn’t enough to hide her pointed ears, her sharp eyes, and her upswept eyebrows, belying a nature that wasn’t human.

Her cloak was plain, but well-made and of fine cloth, likely silk or satin. She had all the hallmarks of a servant of a wealthy, prosperous nation. She had been given entrance to the house by the only servant Lilya’s family employed, Sebastian, and was standing in the receiving room with Lilya’s mother and aunt.

“I come with greetings from my Lord King, to relay a question and to present a gift to you, beloved princess.”

Lilya tilted her head. “A gift? His Majesty didn’t need to send a gift.”

Aquamarine simply chuckled and bowed. “From his Majesty, with his kindest regards.” From her cloak, she produced a velveteen box and opened it, revealing a tiara of breathtaking beauty. Sizable diamonds and sapphires lined the circlet and rose up to create a lovely sloped and winding style like that of wind on water. It was a crown that would suit any head it rested upon.

“Oh!” Lilya breathed. “It’s breathtaking!” She rushed to her mother in delight. “This is the answer to the famine on the outskirts in the south! If we sell the tiara at the biggest market in the neighboring kingdom, we could feed the farmers for months, maybe a year!”

“Lilya!” Her aunt exclaimed in horror. “How could you suggest such a thing? This was a gift from a king, for goodness sake, you can’t just sell it!”

“But, Auntie, I can’t hoard something like this when people are starving!”

“You would not wear it?” Aquamarine asked, her face shrewdly assessing. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all!” Lilya insisted earnestly. “It’s lovely, more so than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never worn anything so extravagant. But… truly, for me to wear it would be like putting silk ribbons on a pig. It would be far less useful as a trinket in my wardrobe and better as a tool to feed the hungry. I’m afraid that Couliea doesn’t pay much attention to our struggles, so we have to fend for ourselves. This,” Lilya gently took the box from Aquamarine and turned it so that she could see the tiara properly. “This is indeed a kingly gift. This will save lives. There is no more noble a gift as that.” She bowed her head and handed the box back gingerly. “If his Majesty would not be pleased with my conduct, I understand, but I would hope he would see the sense in my actions.”

Aquamarine laughed a little. “I do not think his Majesty will be displeased. Quite the opposite. Even still,” Aquamarine set the box down on the table and carefully pried a dangling jewel from the very center, threading it through a silver chain she had worn around her own neck, and placed it on Lilya. “His Majesty will want confirmation that his gift was received. This will suffice.”

“Then I shall wear it to the marriage interview,” Lilya said, patting it fondly.

Aquamarine’s head cocked back in surprise. “I had not even had the chance to ask you, and yet you’re agreeing to go?”

“Well, yes,” Lilya said. “That’s why you’ve come to call on me, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Aquamarine said with a smirk. “But usually it takes much more convincing on my part. I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone so… eager.”

“At the very least, I have to thank him for his generosity,” Lilya said. “Even if he decides I’m not a good match for him, I have to express my gratitude in person.”

“You’re not scared? I’m certain you’ve heard the rumors about my Lord King.”

“Well… yes,” Lilya admitted. “I won’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive, but kindness like this can’t go unacknowledged. It’s only right that I meet with him.”

Where Aquamarine’s smile had been playful and mischievous before, it was now wide and warm. “I will happily go now and inform his Majesty of your decision. My sisters and I will return in a fortnight to collect you for your interview. You may bring a guest with you, if you wish, though I assure you that you’ll be quite safe in our care.”

“I have no doubt that’s true,” Lilya said, bowing. “Would you like some refreshments to take with you on your trip back?”

“How kind of you, dear, but that won’t be necessary,” Aquamarine said, patting Lilya’s cheek. “We shall return in two weeks. You make sure you take care now. Our Lord King would be much distressed should something happen to you in the meantime.”

Aquamarine snapped her fingers, and there was a flash of light from which everyone in the room had to shield their eyes. When they blinked, the young woman was gone.

“Witch...” Sebastian said in horror. “My Lady, you can’t meet with this monster! What kind of king employs such demons?”

“Likely someone who understands that people like them also need to earn a living, I’d imagine,” Lilya said reasonably. “Besides, I’ve already agreed and accept his gift. I can’t go back on my word.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually sell such a treasure,” Your aunt said disapprovingly. “You’re so like your father.”

She didn’t mean that in a good way. Lilya’s mother’s sister, Kiya, had always disliked her father and resented him for being too weak a king, unable to protect his people during the war. She had also resented Lilya ever since she had been born. There was worry that Sophie would not be able to carry another child at her age, and that the royal line would end as there would be no male heir to Tritsia.

The birth of Lilya’s little brother shortly before her father’s death was not enough to warm Kiya to Lilya. In fact, it seemed to drive the wedge even further, as Sophie and her brother were both terribly weak afterward and there was concern they wouldn’t survive. Kiya had gone so far as to blame Lilya, telling her that it would have been her fault if they died. As a nine year old, she couldn’t imagine what she’d have done to cause such a terrible thing, but now she understood it was just her aunt lashing out.

Perhaps it was because Lilya resembled her father the most out of all her siblings, or because she was most like him in temperament, but she doubted Kiya would ever view her favorably. She was still family, though, and Lilya tried not to take her criticism to heart, though her aunt’s cutting eyes often wore into her painfully.

“I’m doing this for our country, even if it no longer exists,” Lilya said, determinedly putting the box away in a case so that Sebastian could take it to the neighboring kingdom for appraisal. “The king has called for me. The least I can do is answer.”

“Lilya’s right, Kiya,” Lilya’s mother, Sophie, said reluctantly. “It would be improper for us to take his gift and ignore him. Though I can’t say that I’m pleased with the idea of this.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “Lilya would have been expected to marry soon as it is. I supposed we couldn’t hope for better than a king.” Sophie took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Still, I’m very worried. I should come with you.”

“No, Mama, they need you here. You’ll have to be the one to make sure that the tiara gets a fair price and oversee the distribution of the food to the needy. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, Aquamarine said that she and her sisters were part of the Queen’s guard, and I liked her very much. I couldn’t be any safer.”

Lilya’s mother grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You have many lovely qualities, my sweet child, but being a good judge of character is not among them. All anyone needs to do is tell you a sad story for you to want to take them under your wing, regardless of their true intentions.” She smiled fondly. “You’re much like your father in that respect.”

Lilya smiled in return. “Father was not a good king,” She said sadly. “But he was a good man.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” Sophie said, but she frowned in distress. “You’re elder sisters had married before they got the summons, so I’ve never met with the king. Your father met with him only once, during a conference of kings, but he never told us anything about him other than he found him to be… striking. I think he didn’t tell us more because he want to frighten us.”

“Have you heard much about him?” Lilya asked anxiously.

“Reports are varied and hard to believe; that the king is a headless monster, thousands of years old, ten feet tall, winged and hulking, who eats the women who refused him. I’m not sure I believed any of that, but the rumors are still enough to make me trepidatious.”

Sebastian grumbled, his mustache shuddering. “It is the rumors that could be true that make me uneasy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am an old man now,” Sebastian said. “Well into my seventies, so I remember when the interviews began sixty years ago. In all that time, and no queen of Banfarie has been chosen. It concerns me. The king himself may now be an old man.”

“Is that why he’s being turned down?” Lilya asked.

“No, young madam,” He said. “You see, even before the interviews began, Banfarie had no queen in nearly one hundred years. In fact, since that time, no new kings had been crowned, either. The king from one hundred years ago was an elusive man who few had ever met, and those who did were terrified of him. If the current king is that man’s successor, it’s certainly distressing. But if he is the same man, then he is a creature of deeply evil magic, and Lady Lilya should stay far away from him.”

“Even if he were the same man, which should be impossible, his reputation is less than ideal,” Sophie said pensively. “The house of Banfarie is known historically for it’s cruelty and harsh punishments, even of neighboring kingdoms. It instituted a law that allowed Banfarie to make judgments on the conduct of royals, indict them criminally, and even sentence retribution against them, up to and including execution. The neighboring kingdoms pushed back against this, of course, but eventually they all fell in line and wrote it into their countries’ laws. I don’t trust any man who could wield that level of power over others.”

“But think of what that level of influence could do for Tritsia!” Kiya said. “A king with that kind of power could protect us and provide for us!”

Sophie shivered. “I don’t want to know what he would want in return for that protection.”

“Well, I would think that’s be obvious,” Kiya said, looking pointedly at Lilya.

Sophie, normally a mild, even-tempered woman, grew angry. “And you’re alright with that, are you? You’re willing to sell my youngest daughter to a monster if it benefits you?”

“Sophie, don’t be sentimental,” Kiya said, folding her arms. “Political marriages are common for royalty. If we had been a stronger country, this would be completely normal, even for a third daughter.”

“We’re not royalty anymore,” Sophie said firmly.

“But we could be, that’s the point!”

“Please, don’t fight,” Lilya said, getting between the two sisters. “I’ve already made the decision. Kiya is right; if I were to marry His Majesty of Banfarie, our kingdom would then be his responsibility rather than that of Couliea. However he treats that responsibility, it can’t be worse than the wanton destruction from the war or the indifferent cruelty of Couliea. If he accepts me, even if it is only a political marriage and nothing more, it would greatly benefit us both. He would at last gain the queen he’s been searching for and our country will be protected. I will meet him. Perhaps the rumors are wrong.”

“I can only hope,” Sophie remarked grimly. After throwing an angry look at her sister, she pulled Lilya away from Kiya and spoke in an undertone. “But… is this what you really want?”

“I want my family and people safe and well above all,” Lilya said. “If this king can offer that, then I can ask for nothing more.”

“If this is what you wish,” Her mother said slowly. “Then I will respect it. But… it is not what I would wish for you.”

“I know, Mama,” Lilia said. “We don’t always get what we truly wish for. But this is as close as I can get.”

“If the king accepts you,” Lilya’s mother remarked sadly. “We may never see you again.”

“That may not be true. I would hope that his Majesty wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my family once I settle in.”

“Just be careful, my love,” Her mother said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful.”

As promised, Aquamarine returned in a fortnight to collect Lilya to take her to the capitol of Banfarie, Rukruf. A carriage had come with them for Lilya’s comfort.

“Couldn’t you transport me like you did the day you first came?”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather disorienting way to travel for humans, My Lady,” Aquamarine said, taking Lilya’s luggage. “It would require some degree of acclamation, and I don’t think his Majesty would want you to be sick during your interview.” She lifted Lilya’s bag up with one hand. “Is this all you’re bringing with you?”

“This is all I have,” Lilya replied simply. “You admit that you’re not human?”

“I was never attempting to hide it. I’m a spirit, specifically an stone spirit, as are my sisters. There they are now.”

She jerked her head toward the carriage. There were two more women identical to Aquamarine near the carriage, one in the driver’s box and another holding open the door to the carriage. All three women had short, pale lavender colored hair and large, glittering eyes. They wore identical uniforms similar to that of an attendant, but the skirts were rather short, stopping just below the knee, giving them a freer rang of movement. Each one had a dagger hanging from their hip.

Both new sisters bowed deeply as Lilya approached.

“My lady,” They said in unison.

“Garnet,” Aquamarine said, pointing to the driver,and then to the coach-woman. “And Peridot.”

“I don’t doubt the three of you are sisters; I can’t tell you apart,” Lilya said.

“Ah, but see?” Peridot said, pointing to a white bow on the right side of her hair in the shape of a butterfly. She then pointed to Garnet, who wore a black butterfly bow on her left side, and to Aquamarine, who wore no bow at all. “Even people who know us well have trouble distinguishing us from the other, so we’ve taken to wearing these. Only his Majesty can tell us apart without them.”

“Here, my Lady,” Peridot said, swinging a beautiful, fur-lined, snow-white cloak around Lilya’s shoulders. “We’ll be going through the mountains and it’s likely to get cold. His Majesty had this made for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lilya said, petting the soft, veltvety collar that ruffed around her neck. “I’m starting to get anxious about meeting him.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Peridot asked ash she helped Lilya up into the carriage.

“I can’t tell,” Lilya replied, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” Peridot said as she came in and closed the door behind her, rapping sharply on the roof before settling. “His Majesty is only a threat to humans.”

Lilya looked at Peridot in alarm.

“It was a joke,” Peridot assured her, giggling. “…mostly.”

The carriage lurched forward and Aquamarine put a hand out to steady Lilya before she fell out of her seat.

“When will we arrive?”

“Around sunset tomorrow,” Aquamarine replied. “We’ll continue on through the night rather than stop at an inn. His Majesty is eager to meet you.”

“Won’t you be tired?” Lilya asked.

“Not to worry,” Aquamarine said. “Spirits like us don’t need much sleep, only a few hours a week. We’re all rested up.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“Yes, it is awfully handy,” Peridot said rather smugly. “Are you hungry? We’ve brought things for you to eat.”

The two days passed pleasantly and Lilya spent the time having long, friendly conversations with all three sisters. Lilya had never had lady friends her age, and though the women were spirits and likely far older than she was, they seemed to enjoy her company and asked her many questions.

“Oh, Lady, come and see!” Garnet said, pointing out of the window. “You can see the capitol city from this vantage!”

Delighted, Lilya looked out of the window where Garnet was pointing. “It’s huge!” She exclaimed. “I can’t even see the end of it! It must be as large as my entire country!”

“Your country is larger by about fifty miles, in fact,” Aquamarine said. “It’s the smallest country on the continent.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but I’m not surprised.”

“Are you sad to be from such a small country?”

“No,” She replied. “My country is beautiful and my people are good. I just wish we were better able to defend ourselves.”

“Well, you may not have that problem anymore,” Aquamarine said. “We’re nearly there.”

“Will I meet his Majesty today?”

“No, you will be tired from the trip and will rest for tonight. He will conduct your interview tomorrow after you have your breakfast. His Majesty has instructed us to see to your every comfort.”

“That’s just going to make me more anxious,” Lilya said.

“The best things are worth waiting for,” Peridot said.

That evening, they arrived at the castle, which was every bit as colossal as described. Over it was a cloud of purple, blue, and pink particles, as if it were perpetual sunset over the castle.

“What is that?”

“It’s called the Aurora,” Garnet said. “It’s a magical field that has existed over the castle for hundreds of years and is the source of the royal family’s magical power. It ascends and descends over the castle, depending on how the king feels. It’s highly reactive to his emotional state.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said. “It’s rather low right now. What does that mean?”

“Hmm…” Garnet said. “I believe he may be feeling rather withdrawn.”

“I wonder why that would be,” Lilya mused.

Standing at the front steps of the castle as they pulled up were two young men in uniform, one blond and one dark haired. The blond wore glasses and seemed to be the junior of the two. They bowed as Lilya exited the carriage.

“Miss Lilya, these are the King’s personal attendants, Larima,” She gestured at the dark haired one first, and then to the blond. “And Raba. They are meeting you in place of his Majesty today.”

“Does that mean his Majesty is watching?” Lilya asked, looking up at the windows.

“Whether he is or is not,” Larima said as he straightened. “We are pleased to meet you, My Lady. Please allow us to show you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied. Curiously, she noticed as they turned that there appeared to be leaves growing out of their hair.

The sisters were following behind her at a short distance. “Are they spirits, too?” Lilya asked them in an undertone.

“Yes,” Peridot said. “They’re tree spirits. All of the staff employed at his Majesty’s main castle are not human.”

“Why?”

“His Majesty distrusts humans,” Aquamarine replied.

“But isn’t his Majesty human?” Lilya asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Peridot responded.

“And no,” Garnet said.

Lilya made a noise of uncertainty under her breath.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “You’ll understand tomorrow.”

“This is all very ominous,” Lilya said uncertainly.

“Yes!” Peridot said. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Before she could answer, she was lead to an opulent guestroom, far larger than any of the rooms in her home, filled with luxurious furniture and carefully crafted decorations.

“This can’t be my room,” Lilya said with a laugh. “What would I do with all this space?”

Raba and Larima exchanged looks. “Do you dislike it? We have a number of other rooms. You’re free to choose any one of them.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Lilya said hastily. “It’s beautiful, I adore it. Please, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just feel like… I don’t know… isn’t it wasted on me?”

The triplets sighed sadly, having become used to Lilya’s unusual behavior, but the men continued to look confused.

“You do realize that if his Majesty chooses you and you accept, you’ll be queen?” Raba asked. “This,” He gestured at the room. “Is nothing compared to the queen’s suite.”

“Oh…” Lilya replied, a little disconcerted. “This will take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Larima said. “You’re the princess from Tritsia, correct? The smallest, poorest kingdom on the continent, now a captured vassal state of Couliea. I suppose you must not be accustomed to living so resplendently.”

“Larima!” Aquamarine hissed. “Don’t be so tactless!”

Lilya laughed a little, relieved. “No, it’s alright. I’m not used to this at all, that’s true. Will that bother his Majesty?”

Larima smiled and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Don’t worry so much about what’s appropriate and just enjoy your time here. Come.” He lead Lilya inside and showed her two cords right next to the bed, a small blue cord and a larger red cord. “The blue cord is attached to a bell in the queen’s attendants’ quarters. If you need for anything, just ring it and one of the triplets will be here in an instant. The red one is an alarm. If you pull it, bells will go off all throughout the castle. Ring it only if it’s an emergency.”

“I understand,” Lilya said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Raba and Larima bowed and left, and the triplets ushered Lilya into an adjacent dining room to have dinner.

After a restless night of sleep and a breakfast she barely touched, Lilya was dressed in a lovely blue gown that complimented her hair, which was pulled back with matching ribbons. The bodice was tight but comfortable, the cut of the dress was simple but elegant, and for the first time, Lilya felt like a proper grown woman.

A knock on the door revealed Raba.

“His Majesty is ready for you and is waiting in his office,” He said.

Lilya stood and clenched her hands to stop them from shaking and followed Raba out of her quarters with Garnet and Aquamarine following behind her.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “I think the king will like you very much.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes,” Aquamarine replied. “We’re more concerned whether or not you’ll like him.”

“Why wouldn’t I like him?” She asked.

“Well…” Garnet began regretfully, but then stopped.

“Here we are,” Raba said, gesturing to a set of large double doors. “One moment please.” Raba knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, I have retrieved Lady Lilya for her interview. Are you ready?”

There was silence, though Raba tilted his head as if he were listening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Raba opened one of the doors and stood aside. “You may enter.”

Gulping, checking that the pendant was in place, and taking a deep breath, Lilya stepped inside.

There, standing rail-straight behind a desk, was a tall, thin man wearing elaborate garments in keeping with his status as a king and emperor, as well as a sash and badges of his station. Almost immediately, one of the many rumors about the king was confirmed with Lilya’s own eyes.

His Imperial Majesty, the king of Banfarie, had no head.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime #The Princess and the Forgotten Head #Manga #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Manga Fanfic #Manga Fanfiction #Exophilia #Headless King

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ahockeywrites · 4 years ago

Text

One Chance is All Some Get - 1

Part Two - Masterlist

Word Count: 10.3k Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, talk of needles, discussion of mental health

The monthly blood drive that happened in the winter at NYU Langone on Long Island was one of the few times the Islanders voluntarily went to the hospital. This time, Mathew had a fling going on with one of the nurses who would be helping so dragged Anthony along for moral support. It wasn’t that Anthony didn’t want to go, he just hated needles. Anything he could do to stay away from needles, he did. He hated blood tests, vaccinations and was certain that donating blood would only bring him closer to his fear. Mathew knew of his fear but hoped that he could get over it temporarily to be his wingman.

Sarah adjusted her short white coat, being on the accelerated MD program at NYU Long Island meant that she had less time to learn the same skills most student doctors learnt in 4 years. However, it did mean that she was able to take part in the blood drive, even if it was just taking the observations of the patients that came in. It was something she took pride in as she was doing one of the most basic tasks, she was always willing to do the tasks that no one else wanted to do because she knew it was the only way she could work her way up the ranks to becoming a qualified doctor.

Her short brown hair was tied back into a small bun and she had her stethoscope around her neck, allowing her to check the most basic functions of the human body. She read her list of things to do one more time before leaving the staff room:

Introduce yourself to them

Make sure they have signed the consent forms

Take their height and weight and check that their blood volume is enough to donate a pint of blood

Take a small amount of blood from their finger and ensure that there is enough iron in their blood to be able to donate

Ask them about their travel history and if they have undertaken any risky behaviour that may mean they are unable to donate

Invite them to take a seat in the chair and give them a drink of water

Answer any questions they may have

Only seven simple tasks to remember, she reminded herself. Sarah walked out of the staff room and made her way to the attending doctor who was in charge of the drive. They had each been given a tablet with the names of the patients they would be seeing and when they checked in to their appointment. A few names jumped out, namely Mathew Barzal and Anthony Beauvillier.

Now, Sarah wasn’t a massive New York hockey fan, especially coming from New Jersey, but anyone who spent more than one day on Long Island had heard of them. They were the up and coming players for the New York Islanders and had a large social media following. Their looks were just an addition to their spectacular hockey skills.

Anthony kept tapping his foot. It was his way of showing nerves, his plan for the day before Mat had dragged him here was to enjoy his day off, maybe try cooking something fancy and watch Netflix all day. But no, he was sitting in a stuffy hospital waiting room, waiting for some doctor or nurse to hook him up to some machine that was going to steal his blood, then he was going to be told that he couldn’t do any heavy lifting on that arm for the rest of the day. It was the same procedure as every blood test that he had for the Islanders and he was going to hate every moment of it. The soft voice of the receptionist called him and Mat over to collect the papers they needed then they had to wait for one of the student doctors to call them through. They both nodded and went to fill in the paperwork. She had also given them some water that they were told to drink slowly, which apparently was going to help when donating blood. Anything Anthony could do to make the donation go quicker, he would do.

It was an unfamiliar room to Sarah, but familiar equipment and she thanked the heavens that she had been trained on similar machines. She swiped her identification badge on the reader attached to the keyboard and signed in to the computer. Quickly, she read through the patient information for Andrew Parkinson, he was her first appointment of the day and noted that he previously had iron deficiency anaemia but had been treated for this using iron tablets and knew that this could be a potential boundary for him donating blood today. She collected her stethoscope from the desk and left the small room to enter the waiting room.

“Mr Parkinson for the blood donation?” Sarah asked, trying to be confident. Sarah looked over the room and noticed a man, with blond hair walking over to her and when he was close enough she offered him her hand to shake which he accepted. “Hi there, I’m student doctor Sarah Milkins and I’m going to be taking you through the first stages of your donation today if that’s okay with you sir.”

“Of course it is,” Andrew said, “lead the way.”

As soon as Anthony heard the soft voice, he looked up wanting to see who it could belong to. He saw a young woman, she couldn’t be older than 25, pushing up her black-rimmed glasses which matched the stethoscope on her shoulders. Even the pens that were in the pocket of her white coat matched. But what made her stand out was her scrubs, he had never seen someone wear a pair of dark blue, unfitted scrubs so well. He smiled at her, but she had already turned her back to him and was leading another man to her consultation room.

“Mat, what was the name of the nurse you were seeing?” Anthony asked his friend, hoping that it wasn’t her because he would do anything but break the bro code.

“Urm,” Mat had to rack his brain to try and remember her name, “I can’t remember but she was definitely a blonde, and she was tall.” Tito let out a sigh that he didn’t even realise he was holding. “Why?” Mat asked, “got your eye on one here?”

“If I do, just be glad it's not your girl,” Anthony replied, with a roll of his eyes.

Sarah was glad to hear that Mr Parkinson had been keeping up to date with his family doctor with regards to his anaemia and was even happier when she completed the finger prick test to show that his blood contained enough iron for him to donate. It was even better when he mentioned that he hadn’t travelled out of the state in the past 6 months. “Mr Parkinson, I am happy to report that your blood volume and iron levels are high enough to donate today,” she said with a smile. “Do you have any questions for me?” she asked, he replied with a shake of his head so Sarah continued, “so, if you could just finish your water whilst you’re waiting in the chair, I’ll send one of the nurses over to you.” She pointed towards chair number 6 and walked him there. “Thank you again for donating.”

Three minutes. Three minutes to fill in all of the information that the system needed. Sarah was thankful that she had been making notes on the computer as she spoke to Mr Parkinson as it made filling in the additional things a lot easier. She took a quick look at her next patient and saw that they would be accompanied by a social media team. This confused her until she saw the names, it was the New York Islanders who she noticed on the list before. A little sigh escaped her lips before she covered her tablet with the case and walked out of her consultation room.

Anthony noticed as soon as she walked back out from the consultation rooms. He noticed how she looked a little awkward standing there, but it allowed him to take in her beauty even if he knew this was likely to be the only time he ever saw her. New York was a big city, 8 million people and she was just one of them.

“Mr Barzal, Mr Beauvillier and camera crew?” Sarah asked meekly, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing.

Placing his hands on his thighs to help him stand, Mat said, “I guess that’s us.” Anthony nodded not believing that he was going to be in the same room as her, let alone caught on video with her.

“I’m student doctor Sarah Milkins and I’m gonna be conducting your observations today,” Sarah began as she started leading the gaggle of people down the corridor. She opened the door to her little room and offered Mat and Anthony the seats on the opposite side of her chair. “I’m not too sure what the camera crew want to do, but I’m just gonna ask you guys a few questions, take your height and weight then do a little blood draw which is just a pinprick on your finger. If you guys don’t have any immediate questions, shall we get started?”

“We’re just gonna be filming the guys, so just try and keep this as normal as possible,” one of the guys with a camera said.

“I’ll try my best. So, I’ve got both of your files up so as long as you don’t mind answering the questions in front of each other, I’ll ask you both at the same time,” Sarah questioned the boys.

“I haven’t got an issue with it,” Anthony said, looking up into Sarah’s green eyes. Her eyes then flicked to Mat who agreed with his friend.

“First question, any new tattoos and piercings in the last three months?” Both boys shook their head and Sarah quickly typed the information into the computer but something kept drawing her back to Anthony’s eyes. “Second of all, any trips out of the United States, not including Canada, in the last three months?” Another nod from both of them confirmed that she was able to move onto the height and weight measurements.

“Now, it’s not that I trust the official NHL data, but if you don’t mind I’d like to take your height and weight, this is to make sure that your blood volume is high enough to donate,” she had to keep this professional, it wasn’t like she had them sat in their boxers in front of her, they were there to do something she did every other month. The boys nodded and the camera crew started giggling when they noticed the height difference between Sarah, Anthony and especially Mat.

Sarah knew she was short, standing at 5 foot exactly, but she didn’t take into account how much shorter she was than the two hockey players as she walked through the hospital corridors. “If you don’t mind, Miss Milkins, could we film this?” one of the camera crew suggested, and Sarah knew that this would be quite funny.

“Yes, just don’t make fun of how short I am,” she said with a laugh. She was used to the jokes about her height and even made some herself when she could think of them. Everyone in the room agreed and made sure they were camera ready. As Sarah motioned for one of the boys to make their way to the height and weight measure, Anthony gave Mat a look to silently tell him to go first. He was incredibly flustered, he didn’t even know why. This was a professional setting and all he had to do was ignore the pretty girl who was looking after him at this moment. Oh, and the needles that he would have to encounter slightly later on.

Sarah took the notepad out of her pocket and found a pen on the desk too. “So, Mat,” Sarah whispered, but she then remembered that she was being filmed so would have to speak up a bit more. “Mat,” this time she was able to get the attention of everyone in the room. “Height is 6’0, and weight 189lbs. Perfect blood volume for donating today! Anthony, would you like to replace Mat on the machine?” Sarah asked politely, whilst writing down these numbers.

Anthony nodded and went to stand on the machine. He noticed Sarah’s eyes as he stood in front of here, slightly awkwardly. They glistened emerald green under the annoyingly bright medical lights and he just wanted to stare into them, but he knew that it would be strange, especially as they had barely known each other for 10 minutes and would probably never see each other again.

“Anthony, just shuffle to your left to make sure we can get the most accurate reading if you can,” Sarah spoke softly, she didn’t want to make this too awkward for him as she could sense that he had some nerves around donating blood. She sent a smile his way, just to ease him.

“Urm, yeah, sure,” Anthony grunted as he moved less than an inch but this allowed Sarah to get the correct readings.

“That’s, 5’11 and 182lbs,” Sarah said and quickly wrote that down. “So, boys, both of you have got enough blood to donate about a pint today! Have you got any questions for me?”

Mat and Anthony shook their heads and looked towards the camera crew who did the same action. Sarah thanked everyone in the room for their time and encouraged the boys to finish drinking a pint of water. She also pointed them towards some of the nurses who would be taking their blood today.

“Miss Milkins, would we be able to get a photo of you and the boys for social media? If you don’t want to, that’s fine but it’ll be nice to get one,” one of the camera crew suggested. Sarah was slightly shocked but agreed nonetheless. She slotted herself between Mat and Anthony and let the crew do their thing with some portable lights and a professional camera. This was not what she expected to be doing when she woke up that morning.

“And we’re done,” the man said, “just jot down your Instagram and Twitter handles for us so we can tag you and send you the photos.” He handed her a small pad of paper and she scribbled it down and handed it back.

“Right, if you head over to Jane, my colleague over there. She’s the one waving,” Sarah laughed. “She’ll get you set up for your donation! Thanks for coming today and donating and I hope to see you soon!” Anthony and Mat waved to Sarah as she went back to the small examination room to put the information into the computer.

Sarah let out a sigh, she didn’t even realise she was holding one in. Mathew Barzal and Anthony Beauvillier were not your average blood donors and the fact that she had been the person to take their observations was incredible. She had never tended to anyone of their star nature and was thankful for the existence of patient confidentiality.

Even if her photo was going to be posted online, she wished that it wasn’t the Islanders that had come in to donate. It would have been a better story to tell to her parents if Jack Hughes and Nico Hischer came in because then she would have been star-struck and probably would have collected autographs for her sister, who swore that Hischer’s hair was the best thing known to man.

Rebecca, the receptionist, one of Sarah’s friends from high school and her housemate, was star struck when Sarah said that she did their observations. “I am going to need a drink after this,” Sarah exclaimed, “I hope my face doesn’t get plastered all over the internet.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Rebecca asked, “You know I think you should get out more.”

“Getting out more is not the same as a hockey team that I don’t even like posting photos about me,” Sarah sighed. “If it was the Devils, I might not be as concerned, but I guess that’s what we get for living in New York.”

“We're still on for the Mets game and drinks after on Saturday?” Rebecca asked, hoping she didn’t shoot down the idea. Sarah knew she needed to take a night off from studying and she did enjoy baseball, it was the drinks after she knew she wasn’t a massive fan of the idea of.

“We won’t stay out too late?” Sarah needed her sleep and was not prepared to give up too much of that for the nightlife of New York.

“Of course, we can’t have little miss perfect staying out past her bedtime now, can we,” Rebecca joked. Sarah responded with a swift roll of her eyes and told her to get lost. She sent Rebecca a quick wave as she headed back to the waiting room to collect the next donor.

Mat had seen that look in Anthony’s eyes before but didn’t want to prod too far because he was about to be hooked up to donate blood. “Marie, you have to come and see these veins,” the nurse exclaimed. Her accent was definitely southern, Texas perhaps, Anthony thought. He wondered why the nurses were getting so excited over their veins, to him these were just the vessels that allowed his blood to get back to the heart and reoxygenate so he could perform at his best on the ice. Yes, they were pretty prominent, but he had seen people on his own hockey team with more visible veins than his.

“My lord,” the second nurse exclaimed, “I’d certainly have wanted test subjects like these two when I was learning.” Anthony shot Mat a worrying look, slightly concerned about what the nurses could be plotting against them. They wouldn't be held hostage for all the student nurses to learn their skills on, would they? He was thinking too much, surely? “Aw sweetie, no need to worry,” the second nurse told him. “Just a quick pinprick.” Yeah, like he hadn’t heard that before.

Anthony looked over to see Mat in conversation with the southern nurse as his blood started to collect on the machine. He needed to relax, that’s what they always told him when he was preparing for a blood test. Sighing, he closed his eyes and balled his hand into a fist. Thinking of rural Quebec and how he couldn’t wait to get back over the summer when the season was finished. The greenery, the sun beating down on his bare chest, a beautiful girl on his arm, anything to take his mind off of the needle that was being placed into his arm.

He was nervous, to say the least, but was glad that the camera crew were currently occupied filming Mat talking to one of the nurses. The nurse was able to get the donation needle the first time and Anthony was able to start his muscle tension exercises. Deep breaths, he told himself, it will be no longer than ten minutes, last time you were done in 6. He was pulled out of his thoughts by the laugh of a girl, was it the nurse that did their observations? He hoped not as he really did not want a cute girl to see him like this. Without opening his eyes too far, he peeked across to see her walking someone to the consultation room.

As he let out a deep breath, Anthony heard the beeping of the machine. Success! He had finished his blood donation and this time without tears. It was the little wins, he told himself. The southern nurse made her way across to detach Anthony from the death trap and he waltzed over to join Mat who was drinking a mug of coffee to rehydrate himself. He picked up a Gatorade from the selection along with a small bag of chips and sat in the comfy chair. The camera crew wanted him to do a small piece to camera about how easy it was to donate, he sniggered at that one, and where people in Long Island could come and donate.

It was easier than he thought and was happy to only have to record it twice, it took Mat at least 5 attempts to even get the first bit right. Anthony was happy, he had donated blood to a good cause and now all he wanted to do was leave and get some Chinese food in his stomach. Mat and Anthony made their way back through the donation area, signing a few cards that the team had brought for them. He felt on top of the world, and had no idea why. As he walked outside the hospital, the cold New York air hit him straight in the face.

“So, which one was she, eh?” Mat asked, to which Anthony replied with a roll of his eyes. Like he was openly going to tell his best friend but more importantly the big mouth of the team which of the healthcare staff he had a tiny crush on.

“None of your business and I’m probably never going to see her again so it doesn’t matter,” he replied, trying to convince himself more than his teammate.

Sarah sighed, one more patient to triage then she could have her Wednesday evening to herself, a bottle of wine and whatever takeout she ordered. She looked at Rebecca and the two of them shared a look that only they could decipher. It meant they would be having sushi for dinner and Rebecca started to place the rolls that she knew the two of them would want in her UberEats basket from their favourite place. All Sarah had to do was get her head down and finish her day of work quickly. Luckily, the next patient was a regular donator and knew the whole procedure. She was able to get them processed quickly and headed to the staff room to collect the small number of belongings she had brought with her.

Her locker was the furthest away from the entrance, but she didn’t mind. She looked forward to graduating to a bigger and more accessible locker in the future, but hopefully in the emergency department. Backpack, wallet, phone, coat, scarf, beanie. One more once over of the locker to ensure that it was fully empty, which it was, and Sarah was ready to go home. She was incredibly thankful that she did not have any classes or have to be up early for her psychiatry rotation so she could have the entire bottle of wine she desired that evening.

As she passed the reception desk, Sarah saw that Rebecca was waiting for her with a hot chocolate for her to keep her hands warm on the drive back to their apartment in Bay Ridge. The two shared a car as it kept the cost of maintaining it low, they both worked at the same hospital so driving was shared between the two of them. Sarah would take the morning drive and Rebecca would drive them home in the evening. It was a dynamic that worked, and they couldn’t thank the heavens more for each other.

The drive to their apartment wasn’t too long, and after watching the world go by for 45 minutes or so, Rebecca pulled into the parking lot of their apartment complex. They both exited the car at the same time and Sarah was faster to reach the elevator so called it down for them. Music softly played in the car and Rebecca informed Sarah that she had ordered dinner and it should be at their door in about 20 minutes which gave both of them time to change into something comfier and get started on a bottle of wine.

Time passed quickly once the food arrived and the girls enjoyed being in each other’s company for the first time in what seemed like ages. Sarah was always busy with assignments or in the hospital and Rebecca was working full time as a receptionist whilst taking night classes to try and get into law school. They were focussed women which is why they were the friends that everyone would marry each other if they hadn’t found other people by the age of 40. Platonic soulmates, that’s what everyone called them and it was the best way to define them.

Thursday was filled with assignments for the two roommates. Rebecca had a 2000 word introduction to property law and a 3000-word essay on an interesting criminal case that she had found. It wasn’t like Sarah had the day easy, she was tasked with reading and taking notes from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition, Section II, on depressive disorders. The book wasn’t light reading in the slightest, but this interested Sarah. She worked through the chapter and was able to do some outside reading into how they are treated, through a combined approach of medication and what is sometimes referred to as ‘talk therapy’.

The two had consumed more coffee in one day than was considered healthy, but they did this to ensure that they had a free weekend and could ensure that they were able to enjoy their time off. It was uncommon for them to have an entirely free weekend but it was worth it so they could see Rebecca’s family. They were coming across from Trenton to spend the Saturday with the girls and both of them couldn’t wait to spend time with them. Both of their families were close, but when Rebecca’s family had moved from Newark to Trenton when they were in college, it became more difficult for them to meet up regularly. This was why it was special for the two girls.

By 7 in the evening, they had both decided they had done enough work for the day and made their way to the kitchen to try and decide what they should make for dinner. After a quick rummage through the cupboards, they settled on a simple carbonara. It wasn’t overly simple but didn’t stretch either of their culinary abilities. “Want to watch anything in particular on tv tonight?” Rebecca shouted from the living room. Sarah popped her head out from behind the door frame to say that she didn’t care as long as it wasn’t reality tv to which they both laughed. “How about your hockey boys?” Rebecca questioned.

Sarah raised one of her eyebrows in confusion, unsure of what Rebecca was talking about until she checked the TV set to see the Islanders warming up before their game that evening. “Eugh,” she sighed. At this point, Rebecca was the only person who knew that she had helped them with their blood donation, but Sarah kept reminding her that it was only observations and not actually taking the blood for their donation. The difference was subtle to the majority of people, but Sarah always tried her best to explain different medical terms to people, sometimes it was easier than others.

They agreed to watch the game together so Sarah quickly finished plating up their food and Rebecca walked through to collect some glasses of water. Due to the fact their apartment was pretty small, they didn’t have a proper dining table to sit at and eat food, usually, it was a quick affair at the kitchen island but the girls chose to change the scenery up for once by eating on the couch. The game was only a few minutes into the first period and it didn’t look like they had missed much which they were thankful for.

It was a well-fought game for the Islanders, even Sarah had to admit a 2-1 OT win over the Bruins was impressive even if they weren’t Jersey. She did sneak a look at Anthony during the intermission interviews and it hit her that she had met, not just one, but two hockey players. Sarah knew that she didn’t have a chance with a professional hockey player because that would involve actually seeing them again and in a city as large as New York, the stars would have to align for them to even notice each other in passing.

The Islanders social media team had waited until after their Thursday night win to post about Mathew and Anthony visiting the hospital to donate blood. They even found out that Anthony’s blood had made its way to the neonatal unit at the hospital and it had helped to save the life of a baby girl. As soon as he had discovered this, Anthony made a mental note to try and get in contact with the family and invite the girl, when she was well, to a game on his behalf. He felt proud, he was able to overcome his fear and help save the life of someone. Before, he thought it was silly to voluntarily go and get poked with a needle, but when he heard that it had saved someone’s life, it felt different. He knew he would donate blood again.

The photo taken at the blood drive was present on the screens around the arena and was also posted online. The team made sure not to tag Sarah in the Instagram and Twitter posts to try and avoid the chance of harassment but included her handles on the attached articles because they knew that fewer people would read the article. It was smart, but Anthony didn’t read the article, he just went on Instagram and saw that she hadn’t been tagged so he assumed that she would be the one that got away.

Anthony checked his calendar, realising that he had an appearance to make at the New York Mets game and questioned why his past self had agreed to it. He wasn’t the biggest fan of baseball but as he thought over it, he was relatively happy to have said yes. A night off, with some of his teammates, a few beers and nachos. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, everything seemed to be going wrong for Sarah. First of all, her alarm didn’t go off on time so she had to rush to get ready for lunch with Rebecca’s parents. Second of all, the red shirt that she had planned on pairing with black skinny jeans had just disappeared so she had to settle on one that was black and covered in small flowers. It showed off a bit more of her shoulder than she was hoping but it was nothing that her puffer jacket wouldn’t keep warm. Third of all, their apartment was out of coffee, so instead of making a vanilla latte and putting it into her travel mug, Sarah had to fork out five dollars for one made at Starbucks. Finally, after all of this, she had to run to catch the train into the city but missed the one she had planned on taking, closed its doors the moment her foot touched the platform.

She audibly sighed when she sat down at the table alongside Rebecca’s parents. James and Rachel were lovely people and Sarah couldn’t have picked a better set of parent’s to be friends with. They understood the demands of a college degree such as an M.D. as they had both attended college followed by graduate school. Nonetheless, they were glad to see that their daughter and her best friend were enjoying themselves living in the Big Apple. It wasn’t too much of a culture shock for the girls, as they had grown up on the other side of the Hudson river and often went across to New York for the shopping experience but living in a city that big was. The difference from living in college dorms to an apartment was something the girls knew they wanted to share.

Lunch passed quickly, and the four of them made their way across to Citi Field in preparation for the afternoon game. As they were waiting for some food to snack on during the game, an announcement caught Sarah off guard. “And today we welcome as special guests, your very own, New York Islanders!”

She had to make sure she had heard the announcer properly and she did when she saw the faces of two people she had helped at the hospital just days prior on the big screen. Aside from Mathew and Anthony, there wasn’t any face that rang a bell, even when they introduced each of them. It must have been because she would rather settle down with a book rather than watching grown men balancing on a knife’s edge on ice and body slam into everything.

Even being a fan of the Devils, she enjoyed the atmosphere of the game as opposed to the actual game on the ice. Occasionally going to a game was a simple way to meet up with old friends and catch up with how they had been doing. The social side was what interested her rather than the actual sporting side. Sarah did have to admit that following some of the Devils players on social media was amusing, especially P.K Subban, he seemed to think he was a social media star alongside being a defenceman. But this was the team she had grown up watching, not the Islanders.

The four made their way to their seats and were happy that they hadn’t missed any of the game. It was an interesting first experience for Sarah, as she had never been to a baseball game. Her parents never really took her along to sporting events but she grew up learning ballet and she attributed her patience and perseverance to that. She wished that she had more time and money to continue the hobby, but a college degree brought her classes constantly and more debt than she wished to make sense of.

Although she had never been to a game before, she was able to pick the game up quickly, especially with a few pointers from James and Rachel. Yes, there were a few things that she struggled to understand but to a first-time viewer, she knew that she wasn’t going to be able to understand everything immediately. It turned out to be a rather exciting game and the four were enjoying the atmosphere, eating the snacks they had bought and watching sports.

She wondered if her life would have been different had she spent more time watching professional sports rather than studying and dancing. But then she realised that she wouldn’t have become the person she was and she loved herself for who she was, and anyone who tried to get her to change wasn’t worthy of her friendship. Sarah prided herself on only being friends with people who respected her, especially after an incident in high school. It was never spoken about, but the people who cared about her knew about it and always looked after Sarah when she dealt with friendship issues. She kept her friendship group small and her walls high, but sometimes that was necessary.

Sarah looked around, trying to find the correct route to the bathrooms. Every arena was different and that never made needing to go any easier. She asked Rachel if she knew the route, thankfully she was able to pass across some basic directions to help Sarah. Head up and just follow what Rachel told you, it’s not that far, she told herself. There wasn’t a line so she was able to head straight in and out quickly.

It took her a few moments to regain her bearings and start walking again because it seemed like as soon as she started she was stopped by a firm chest. “God, I’m so sorry,” she started apologising to the mysterious stranger she had just crashed into.

“Hey, no worries,” the stranger replied as Sarah stepped back to notice who it actually was that she had walked into. “Aren’t you that nurse from the blood drive?” Anthony asked, thanking the heavens that he might have actually found the girl.

“I was at the blood drive, but I’m not a nurse,” she laughed. He wasn’t the first person to think she was a nurse and wouldn’t be the last. “I’m one of the student doctors, I’m in my final year and help out at the blood drive once a week.”

“Well, urm,” Anthony stuttered, “thanks. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

“Yeah, if you come along on the same date in two months I’ll be there,” Sarah smiled.

“Thanks, and sorry for crashing into you,” Anthony apologised.

“No worries,” Sarah replied, “maybe see you then?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, watching her turn around and walk back to where she was sitting.

You’re an idiot, Anthony thought to himself. Surely, there was something better he could have said other than maybe I’ll come to the blood bank again. It might have been a good cause, but it would involve him overcoming his fear once again, but maybe for her, he could?

Sarah returned and the Mets had just started the fourth innings. She informed Rebecca, who she was sat next to about who she had walked into. Rebecca’s mouth hung open and her mother had to ensure that she was okay before asking why the hell her daughter was catching flies. Immediately, Rebecca launched into the entire story of two of New York’s elite sportsmen who had come to their hospital and how Sarah was the one to do their observations. If that wasn’t enough to shock James and Rachel, Sarah bumping into Anthony outside the toilets would have been.

“How crazy,” James exclaimed. His wife agreed and told the girls that fate must have been on their side that day. Sarah thought about it as the game continued, on the train home and in bed that night. Was it really fate? Or just two people who lived in the same city accidentally meeting in the same place twice? Meeting might have been exaggerating slightly, they had been in professional circumstances the first time and bumping into someone accidentally at a sports event certainly wasn’t ideal either. She tried to push the constant confusing thoughts out of her head as she tried to sleep.

Anthony was thinking the same things as he made his way to bed that night. Why couldn’t he have struck up a proper conversation with her? Why did he assume she was a nurse when she clearly told them she was a student doctor? He was a self-aware idiot who needed help talking to girls. But it wasn’t like he could just go back to the hospital, with the description of the girl and ask them to tell him who she was. He had to hope that fate would bring them together once again.

He thought about asking Mat for help, but then remembered all the failed dates he was always going on. It had to be one of the older guys on the team, the ones who were married. Anders, as the captain, was always a safe bet. He was caring and commanding in the way only the captain of an NHL team could be. Anders was also amazing when it came to giving advice.

“Tito,” Anders spoke at practice the following day, “I just don’t know how you expect me to give you advice when you know basically nothing about this girl.” Anthony’s face frowned, but he understood where he was coming from. It wasn’t like the two of them had been on a few dates and he wanted to take the next step. “General advice though, don’t fuck up when talking to a girl.” Anthony had to let out a laugh, it wasn’t like he wanted to destroy any of his chances with any girl, it was that sometimes his awkward side came out. He knew it was normal to get slightly flustered when talking to someone attractive, but all he wanted was to meet her again so he would be able to have another chance.

Sarah checked the order on her phone one more time. Being the student doctor meant that she was often tasked with going on a coffee run. She didn’t mind though, she was just looking forward to the days when she could be the one offering treatment, even if the psychiatry ward wasn’t where she saw herself in the future. Unfortunately, she had to head to a Starbucks that was slightly further away from the hospital due to the usual one being out of almond milk which is what Dr Jones had in his coffee. Sarah warned the staff about this but they informed her that it was okay and rounds could wait until she got back. They also said that they would let her help with some procedures on the patients when she returned which made her become more excited to return to the hospital.

The scarf the young girl was wearing engulfed her body, but it kept her warm, and that was all that she cared about. Fashion was second to being warm and comfortable, especially in the New York winter. It was only a five-minute walk to the coffee shop which Sarah was thankful for as she wanted to spend as much time in a building with heating as possible which was completely understandable. She watched the small amount of snow as it fell on her short walk and some of it stayed on her coat until she entered the shop. It wasn’t a busy day, but she had arrived earlier than the estimated time suggested so she found an unoccupied seat easily and busied herself on her phone. The peace and quiet was something Sarah rarely had time to enjoy working in a hospital so she savoured the short amount of time she was in it for.

Her enjoyment was cut short by a group of rowdy people who walked in to collect a to-go order like she was. They were directed to sit down near where Sarah was sitting and she hoped that her order was almost ready so she could try and get away from the people causing all of the noise. “Fancy seeing you here,” Sarah heard a voice from behind where she was sitting and slightly turned her head to see a slightly dishevelled Anthony Beauvillier. She greeted him awkwardly, not really sure how to address someone you had only met twice and one of those times she was being filmed and the other was a complete accident.

“Are you waiting for coffee?” he asked, mentally face palming as he asked. Of course, she’s here for coffee, it’s a coffee shop, what else would she be here for? Anders said don’t fuck up and what was the first thing he did? Fuck up.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied, trying to hide a laugh at how nervous he seemed. “As the med student, I’ve been tasked with grabbing some coffees before we start rounds.”

“Isn’t there a coffee place closer to the hospital?” Anthony asked, genuinely curious. He was almost certain that when he brought Mat for an operation the other month he stopped by the one that was right outside.

“There is, but they were out of almond milk. So here I am,” she said, laughing slightly. Anthony nodded in understanding hoping that he would be able to ask for her number rather than stutter over his words once again.

“I know this seems really random,” he started, not really sure how to phrase it without seeming weird, “but fate had brought us together three times and I’d rather not risk it again. Could I maybe get your number?” Anthony reached up to scratch the back of his neck, he couldn’t have fucked up another time, could he?

“Yeah sure, pass me your phone,” Sarah responded with a smile. She was glad that he had asked her rather than her asking because she would never have been able to. She was always the quiet one in her group of friends, but she didn’t need to be loud to be noticed. Her academic achievements showed off more than she could ever say. Anthony quickly pulled his phone out of

his pocket, unlocked it and found the contacts section. Sarah found the add new contact section and typed in her name and number. “There you go,” she exclaimed just as the barista called her name. “Text me?” she asked Anthony who responded with a swift nod of his head.

He was still in shock, how on earth was he actually able to ask her for her number and why on earth did she actually give it to him? Anthony made his way back to the group of hockey players and Anders quickly pulled him aside. He asked Anthony if she was the girl and a few questions about her so he could attempt to figure out the situation. It wasn’t like he was going to share anything that he found out, he just wanted the best for his young winger and if that involved a girl, he was going to be happy for him.

The entire conversation with Anthony had thrown Sarah off but she knew that she couldn’t let it bother her professionally so went back to the ward as if nothing had ever happened, and was able to help with a few patient diagnoses and even suggested medications to her superiors who were impressed with the knowledge that she had in the subject. They even asked if she was considering a residency in the field because they would love to have her on board. It wasn’t like she could say no, instead she told them that she was keeping her options open and wanted to experience as many fields as possible before choosing her field. Even though she knew that there was only one place that she saw herself, in the emergency department.

She eventually found time in the day, 4 in the afternoon, to rest her legs for the first time in what seemed like days. Sarah loved the time she spent in the hospital and was beginning to learn how to survive on little sleep and lots of coffee. She also enjoyed the variety of patients she was seeing and the fact that they were actual human beings not just case studies on a piece of paper. Helping people was always something that she enjoyed doing.

Rebecca was adding the final touches to the roasted vegetables as Sarah made her presence known in their apartment. Sarah placed her backpack down on the couch and quickly followed the scent of salmon to the kitchen. “Becca,” she groaned, “you take too good care of me.” Rebecca shook her head as she continued to plate up the dinner. The conversation that the two had over their food, and a glass of red wine which according to Sarah was acceptable because it promoted blood thinning.

Sarah mentioned it when they were clearing up, which wasn’t the smartest idea she had ever had because Rebecca almost dropped the dishes into the sink. “You saw him again?” Rebecca exclaimed, wanting to make sure she had heard her best friend right because there was no way that she had seen a group of the Islanders in a Starbucks and had given her number to Anthony Beauvillier.

“Yeah,” Sarah replied, “I mean, I gave him my number so it’s probably gonna be hidden in a pile of other, prettier girls numbers, but hey. I tried, and that’s all I can do.” Rebecca sent a soft smile in her housemate’s direction, she knew that there had to be a reason for fate to bring them to the same place three times. It couldn’t just be a coincidence anymore, could it?

Anthony sunk into the soft material of his and Mat’s main couch, wishing the world would just engulf him. He groaned into one of the cushions as he tried to release all of the awkwardness that his body held. Mat tried to get him to talk, especially when he noticed that he was talking to a girl at the coffee shop but Anthony was stubborn and refused to say anything. Mat was the one who had a better track record out of the two, but Anthony didn’t need to hear his best friend bragging about all the different ways he had seduced different women into his bed in different states across the country. He needed advice on keeping the same woman around him.

Yes, he had previous girlfriends but none stayed around longer than two months or however long it took for them to get intimate a few times and he hated that. Anthony wanted to form a connection with someone, he wanted to come home from a long road trip to someone waiting in bed for him, he wanted someone who was available to go on dates with him regularly. He wanted love. And it was proving harder than he wanted it to be to find.

Matt Martin had decided that this losing streak needed to end, so he took them to an all-expenses-paid training camp on Cape Cod during the few days they had between games. As an experienced player, he knew that taking some time away from watching tape and having failed set plays occur during training was the best thing they could do. So he found a place that fit their needs and was able to cater to their weird athlete diet. They kept in shape by taking part in a variety of watersports and using the spacious gym facilities that were on offer. It also allowed Anthony to pull Anders aside once more to try and get advice on what to do.

At this point, Anders was close to telling him that he needed to do something but refrained from saying it in those words as he knew that this was a difficult thing for a teammate to bring to him. “Just text her,” Anders told him, collecting a towel to wipe away the sweat forming on his brow as the two completed some interval training on the treadmill.

“I would,” Anthony replied sarcastically, “but what do I say?” Anders noticed the genuine concern in his voice, did this girl he had met all of three times really have such a hold over him? All he could do was give the most sensible advice he could think of and told him that he would try and ask some people under the radar for more information but stressed that he needed to actually get in contact with her.

Anthony told his captain that he would try his best but his anxious feeling never seemed to go away, especially when he opened up her contact to send her a message. He kept thinking of everything that could go wrong, and never the positives that he could get out of it. Yes, he might not get a girlfriend out of it, but even gaining a new friend would be much better than not even trying. But he pushed these thoughts to the side, well, as best as he could, before moving to work on some hand-eye coordination tasks alongside some of his potential linemates.

The three day trip to Massachusetts came to an end much quicker than all of the Islanders wanted, but Barry Trotz was pleased to see that they were rejuvenated from their time away and was able to try the same drills they had done previously and this time they were a lot more successful. This translated to a successful win streak against the Rangers and Flyers and they all decided that it was the right time to celebrate.

Vodka shots, tequila shots, sambuca shots. If it was liquor, it could be found in the private room that the Islanders had booked for their celebration. Anthony had meant to invite Sarah, he did send her a simple text telling her that this was his number, but he couldn’t justify throwing her into the life of a WAG when they were barely even friends, so he simply told her that he was going on a night out in celebration which she completely understood, he had worked hard for his job as an athlete and deserved to celebrate.

Sarah didn’t want to scare Anthony by mentioning that she was doing her rotation in the emergency department in case she was at the closest hospital to him and someone needed immediate attention. She thought it was a long shot, but at around 1 am she heard a voice that she recognised. Dr Stevens was the doctor she was shadowing and he had just been introducing the two of them to the patient who was a lovely elderly couple where one of them had a fall and they were recommended to visit the ED to make sure that they were all okay.

She was instructed to begin some basic observations and took a few samples of blood to send down to the labs; it was a procedure that she had done many times on her colleagues and models but one she was unfamiliar with on elderly people as their veins weren’t always as visible. The couple were lovely and continued to encourage her even as she struggled but it was the motivation she needed as she was able to collect the appropriate number of vials needed to test for a variety of conditions.

James, one of the nurses, had begun to start looking after the crowd of boys by first, taking some general observations of each of them to make sure that they were not suffering from over intoxication. He thanked the lord, even though he was an atheist, that they were just drunk. He was able to collect some water for the two who weren’t injured then was able to take a quick look at Mat’s hand. James quickly called over Sarah for help when it came to attaching an IV and Dr Stevens had made sure that if he wasn’t looking after her that the most experienced nurse would be assisting her, tonight that being James.

Sarah was shocked to see Mat with a bloody rag covering his wrist, covering what looked like a relatively deep graze. James informed her of the situation and that she needed to attach him to an IV and would be observing him putting in a set of absorbable stitches to quickly solve the small issue of his graze. She agreed but Anthony and Matt, who for some reason thought that they needed a father figure at the hospital, kept trying to distract her. It wasn’t like she minded chatty patients, in fact, they were some of her favourites because it meant that she was able to find out more information about conditions they had, but drunk people weren’t her forte. However, she was beginning to notice that a night shift in the emergency department consisted of more drunk people than she thought.

One of the other nurses, Shelly, was able to lead Anthony and Matt to an empty bay where they were given a few more bottles of water and some snacks to help them sober up. Occasionally, someone would stick their head in to make sure that New York’s Long Island’s finest were doing okay.

It was relatively easy to hook Mat to the IV and he was pretty comfortable when James began to stitch up his graze. He had experienced it multiple times and more often than not there was no pain relief so the small amount he had been given was a lifesaver. He did continue to chat to Sarah as if he was competing for Canada but she understood why. Hospitals were not a nice place to be at the best of times and if this made him more comfortable, then he should do that. It wasn’t up to her to tell him what made him comfortable, that was completely out of bounds.

A few minutes passed, and Sarah had begun to start Mat’s discharge paperwork and that included sending a small report to the doctors at their training facilities. She imagined if she were one of them, she wouldn’t be too impressed to hear that one of her star forwards had slightly injured himself, but that was for Mat to explain. She was simply documenting what she saw and the procedures that were undertaken.

2:53 in the morning. Anthony had sobered up enough to call the three of them an Uber to their respective places and he also thanked Sarah profusely for looking after them too. She was humble, simply letting him know that it was her job, even if she wasn’t getting paid for it. He also promised that as a thank you, he would take her out on a date. Sarah was almost sure that when he woke up, hopefully fully sober, he would have completely forgotten about that so she simply brushed it off with an “of course Anthony.” What else was she meant to say? It wasn’t like she could whip out her phone and just say, tell me the date and time and I’ll be there. This placement was preparing her for a job in a hospital. She couldn’t do that to any other patient, or their family members, so why was Anthony different?

“Professional hockey player, absolutely filled out, oh, and you have a crush on him,” Rebecca told Sarah like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Sarah felt her cheeks heat up as Rebecca went further down the list, it wasn’t like anything that she said was wrong, it just wasn’t what she had hoped to hear at 8 am over a coffee with her best friend. She sighed as she went to pick up the steaming mug of coffee, not sure how to respond.

“Yes, yes and maybe?” Sarah replied, not really sure how to admit to the small amount of feelings she had begun to feel about the winger. The pair had been sporadically messaging each other, mainly a well done for a three-point night or how was the er today? Nothing more than that, but Sarah wanted more but knew that he might not feel the same way and accepted the small amount of communication with him.

Anthony, on the other hand, was sweating and not just from the painful workout that they had just been subjected to. He knew he needed to ask Sarah out on a date, sooner rather than later, because he was certain that she would be able to find someone with whom she could hold more intelligent conversations. She was a medical student, after all, he told himself. As he sat on the small couch in his bedroom, he checked Google Maps searching for a small coffee shop where he could ask her on a weekend, casual date. He picked one that looked nice enough, and just went for it.

Anthony: Hey, this might seem out of the blue but I was wondering if you wanted to go for coffee sometime this weekend? I’m not playing until Monday and I’d really like to see you

And now he had to play a waiting game, but he didn’t have to wait as long. Once he had returned from collecting a parcel, a care package from his mother containing things that he missed from Quebec, he checked his phone to see a reply. He smiled to himself, even if it was a rejection, he wasn’t being ignored which in his books was a massive win.

Sarah: Hiya! That sounds like a great idea, I’ve got a small research thing to do, but I can do that whenever. Text me when and where and I’ll be there :)

The first thing Anthony did was text Anders and let him know. His captain was pleased for him and was happy to hear that he had taken the initiative even if he was worried. But now, Anthony had three more days to worry about something else.

Rebecca shouted through the hallway to try and get Sarah’s attention. Sarah had left her phone in the lounge as she went to change into something more comfortable and it wasn’t like she expected Anthony to reply so quickly either. “It says,” Rebecca started before Sarah swooped in to take the phone out of her hand and held it to her chest. There was no way in hell that Sarah was going to let Rebecca find out that she was going on her first date in 4 years, let alone with Anthony Beauvillier of the New York Islanders.

As she raised one of her eyebrows, Rebecca looked over quizzically at her best friend. “Tell me who that text was from and I’ll drop it completely,” she bargained knowing that even though she was studying law there was no way in hell she would be able to get any more information out of Sarah.

The two shared a look and Sarah knew that Rebecca wouldn’t push, or at least she hoped. “Anthony,” she said, wishing that she either assumed who he was or didn’t care enough to ask. Rebecca’s jaw dropped in shock, did Sarah Milkins really just say that she was going to go for coffee with Anthony. Anthony Beauvillier. Number 18 for the New York Islanders. It wasn’t like it could be a different Anthony as he was the only one who both of them knew and that Sarah would have told Rebecca if she had even been talking to anyone else.

Rebecca tried to get hold of the phone but Sarah quickly ran back into her room and locked the door before she could be asked any more questions. “I’m saying yes, we’re going to Maman at 3 o’clock on Sunday, I’ll be back before nine,” Sarah shouted through the door. Eventually, Sarah let Rebecca into her room and let out a little scream of excitement. They spent the rest of their afternoon discussing date attire and just tried to stay as calm as possible.

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years ago

Text

Stupidly in love

Based on this very good post by @darkverrmin

It all slowed down for one horrible moment as the potions fell. The glittery blue. The shocking purple. The feces brown.

Well he always said that mage would be the death of him. He just got which mage wrong.

“Jaskier!”

The sound of breaking glass. Geralt’s pungent but familiar scent. Pressed into his nose as Geralt shielded him. Firmly held in his arms.

“Oh fuck oh cock oh bloody shit wood are you alright fuck-” He cursed. His hands seizing on the fabric of Geralt’s shirt.

The arms around him squeezed and Geralt nuzzled against his cheek. Soft sounds slipping from his chest.

“Geralt?’ Geralt insistently nuzzled against him. The stubble of his fading shave beginning to sting. “Geralt? Uh. Let’s. Get away from the shatter glass?”

He followed willingly enough stepping with him. Not letting go. One of his hands slipped under his shirt. Running up his spine.

He pushed him back gently with a forced smile. “Let’s get that shirt off before those concoctions do more damage alright?”

Geralt let him. But he wouldn’t let go of his wrist. His neck. Constantly moving in to cover the gap that separated them.

It took a staggeringly long time to remove the stained shirt.

“Well that shirts a loss.” He admitted. Geralt’s eyes were hazed and trained on his face. A dopy grin marring his normally stern countenance. “Are you alright? I mean clearly your not but can you tell me what’s going on because a little guidance would be so helpful.”

Geralts eyes drifted lower. Watching his mouth move as he plead for answers.

Geralt leaned forward.

Tilted his head.

And kissed him.

He stayed still as Geralt pressed their lips together. Soft then hard then soft again. As he took his bottom lip between his teeth and slowly pulled back before finally letting go with the most contented expression.

“Oh.” He said simply. “It was a love potion.”

It was really as simple as that.

He grabbed the sword they’d promised to retrieve and guided Geralt out. When they got outside Geralt got distracted by petting Roach long enough for him to make use of both his hands to lead them home.

Geralt menaced behind him as he turned the sword over. Growling when the woman got too close. One hand pressing into the small of his back.

“He’s fine.” He assured her. “Little issue with a potion. Don’t suppose you know any non-abandoned mage homes nearby?”

“I heard the town to the east recently had one move in,” Geralt tucked himself into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapping around his waist. Inhaling. “Are you alright? Is he going to...” She trailed off nervously. Her eyes flickering between him and the Witcher attached to him.

“Never been safer.” He assured her with a bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No harms going to come to me while I’ve got a Witcher fastened to my side!” He winked cheerily.

No harm but the damage done to his heart.

But hearts were robust things. He’d survive. He always did.

“Now one more question.” He tucked their payment away. “Which way is east?”

The routine of setting camp distracted Geralt. Gave him breathing room. A chance to slow his pathetically racing heart.

He laid out their bedrolls the customary few feet apart as Geralt cooked dinner. Stood and pointed at him.

“I going to take a piss. Do. Not. Follow me. Do you understand?”

Geralt scowled at him but shrunk down at the scolding enough that he suspected he’d gotten the memo.

Stupid love potion. Stupid mage. Stupid Geralt for protecting him from it. Wouldn’t have done shit to him. Except the stupid part of the ‘stupidly in love’ potion. But Geralt always called him an idiot anyway so really what was the difference anyway?

He was already stupidly in love with the gruff idiot.

He came back. Geralt still sat next to the fire. Watching there dinner.

But he had a sly grin on now.

“What did you do?”

“Dinner.” He said.

So he wasn’t completely beyond words then. Just mostly.

Geralt lost his words occasionally anyway. He picked up his mess kit and thumped down next to him.

Geralt shuffled, in what he imagined was meant to be a discrete motion, next to him until their shoulders touched.

He took a bite. Chewed.

Geralt watched him.

“It’s good.” He offered.

Geralt preened before digging in himself.

“Geralt?” He trilled in acknowledgement. “Promise I won’t hold any of this against you. Or let this be weird. You’re my best friend. I promise we can weather a love potion.”

Geralt nosed at his hair and kissed the lobe of his ear before returning to his meal.

“I’ll say it again once we break the spell but if you can understand I want you to know its okay. Nothing you’ve done or would do can possibly change how I feel. You are my best friend and I love you.” He stared down at the bowl in his lap. “So I promise i’ll only make fun of you for acting like this to you. To show theirs no hard feelings.”

Geralt took his hand and joined their fingers. Eating his food with his other hand.

He turned to watch him. Savoring the unearned warmth of Geralt next to him.

“I love you.” He whispered. Refusing to answer the tears longing to fall. “You are my best friend.”

Geralt smiled. Turned. Kissed him.

They finished their meal in silence.

“Geralt where is my bedroll?”

Geralt ignored him.

“Geralt. Where. Is. My. Bedroll?”

A self satisifed smile creeped onto his face. He shrugged. Lifted his bedroll.

“No! Tell me where you hid it Geralt of Rivia!”

He got an eyebrow raise for that.

“OH!” He choked in insult. “How Dare you! I do not go out of my way to buy rooms with only one bed. How dare you even imply it! If anything you should be thanking me for saving us money because chaos knows we never have any!”

He smugly shrugged and lowered the blanket. Sighing in mock contentment.

“I hate you and I will never forgive you for this.” He said as he climbed into the bedroll. Elbowing him slightly more than necessary. “Really. How dare you.”

Geralt pulled him to his chest and held him there.

“Stupid Witcher.” he mumbled into the warmth of his chest. “We’re going to overheat like this.”

A heartbeat later he was sound asleep.

“Oh you have Got to be kidding me.” He lamented when the door opened. “Why does it have to be you! Are you following us?” He jabbed a finger at her pointedly.

“You’re the one at my doorstep. If anyone’s the stalker its you.” Her eyes caught on Geralt. Who was busy scenting his neck. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Love potion. Stupidly in love would have been the name on the vial. Had said vial had a name. Also there was more than one? I’m not totally sure which one did this. Oh and before you ask. No I didn’t bring them. They broke. On Geralt. Obviously.”

She sighed in an overdramatically put upon manner really. “Geralt. Follow.” She ordered.

He did. Lilacs and gooseberries he’d have to hear Geralt sigh for the next month.

“You wait outside.” She halted him with a hand to his chest. “It’ll be easier to break without you there.” She lied. That smile definitely said it was a lie.

“Didn’t want to come into your stolen house anyway. Who knows what I might catch.”

“You won’t get to catch anything. Or pitch.” She smirked and closed the door on him.

Stupid attractive witches. Stupid attractive Witchers. Stupid mages and their cursed potions stored on rotten wooden shelves. He kicked at the stones around the house.

He froze at Yennefer’s roaring laughter through the window.

He ran too it. Banging on it until she magicked the lock open. He scrambled through.

Geralt growled. Face buried in his hands as she rolled with laughter.

“What happened? Did you break it? Did the magic bounce back and make her laugh hysterically? Because if so I think this time we should really leave her to it. She’ll be fine.”

“She broke it.” Geralt confirmed without looking up.

“Stupidly in love!” She wheezed. “Got that right at least!”

“You know laughter's the best medicine. So by that logic I think that we’ve paid plenty already. Lets go shall we? Before she decides to turn us into something?”

He tried to tug Geralt back out the window with him for a dashing escape. The absurd man refused.

“You know you were easier to manuver before she broke the love potion!”

“It wasn’t a love potion.” She wiped her eyes. Makeup still terribly perfect. “I’d call that mixture stupidly honest instead.”

He stopped his tugging. Hands still holding Geralt’s arm.

“Uh?” He so elegantly composed.

“The potions didn’t make him feel anything that wasn’t already there.” She explained. Like he was daft. He felt a little daft.

“Oh.” He managed this time. “Well. You’re my best friend.” He said once more. “And I love you.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #writing #i hope you don't mind #needed some inspiration to help me get back into writing these boys and your post was Mwa #and then they kissed and Yennefer was like ew gross get out of my house #its not a love potion cause he loves Jaskier and Roach and Yennefer #he already did #it just made him act on it

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years ago

Note

What a coward ass account. I’ve asked about several questions but I bet you won’t answer it because apparently you ship a fake ship and have 0 backbone and you can’t argue with anyone because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship. Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that. Wake up. Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy so how tf are y’all so fucking delulu and blind?

You know, normally I’d just delete something as rude as this but honestly you gave me a good laugh with it so I’ll take the bait. But FYI, while I planned on answering these questions sooner or later, because imagine this, some of us have jobs and things we need to take care of and thus sometimes just don’t have the time to write posts, especially when some of them take a lot of time and research, even more so when an average thematic post from me is somewhere between 2 and 5k words long. That takes a hot minute to write. Not that you’d care, but now I don’t think I’ll answer them because I truly don’t appreciate you coming into our asks and being this unnecessary level of rude. If you felt like I skipped your question or was taking an oddly long time to answer, it would’ve sufficed to send in a small question about it and you would’ve gotten a normal answer for it, but guess not.

There are several things I find extremely interesting and also hilarious about your ask, especially since they confirm basically every suspicion I have about shipping when it comes to Bangtan and mlm ships in general.

But I’d like to start with this first because it really made me pause there for a minute: “because you’ve nothing to back up your fanservice ass ship” Since your ask is about Namjin I will assume this part is as well, yes, and I really am struggling to see how they, of all ships, are a “fanservice” one considering both Namjoon and Seokjin aren’t really big on skinship and initiating hugs and touches. What, exactly, about them is fanservice? Even more so since you go on to say this: “Jin is never intimate with Joon, never tells me he loves him, never goes out of his way to spoil him, never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” so if these are your definition of what constitutes a) fanservice and b) a relationship, yet you claim Namjin is just fanservice, how can that be if you say they never do any? This math doesn’t math, you know.

Before I get ahead of myself, let’s break this down point by point, shall we?

1. “Jin is never intimate with Joon” – Tell me, dear anon, how exactly do you know that? Are you their friend? A fly living on their wall and watching over them 24/7? And also, how, exactly, are we supposed to be shown that by them? Is Namjoon supposed to walk over to Seokjin and, I don’t know, make out with him while Bangtan B*mb Noona stands a meter away and films the whole thing? What even does intimate mean in your definition? I have a sneaking suspicion of what you’re asking for but I will give you the benefit of the doubt.

Since I like language, let’s get into the literal definition of the word intimate, shall we, because you might be surprised to find it doesn’t just mean what you think it does. According to the Cambridge dictionary, intimate has several meanings, and what Namjoon and Seokjin show us and tell us that they have is actually several of them:

“Being a close, personal friend”, does that ring a bell? It does, doesn’t it? Namjoon and Seokjin have known each other for ten years almost, have spent a considerable amount of time together, have had dinner with each other’s families, Namjoon was at Seokjin’s brother’s wedding, and Namjoon is the person he turns to when it comes to his lyrics, always makes sure to thank Namjoon in his Thank You section in their albums, and supports him however he sees fit. Isn’t that intimate?

I know you mean the sexual kind of intimate, and truly that is something neither you nor I have any knowledge of and, surprise, it’s none of our business either. If I remember correctly, we’ve never brought up anything really sexual in any of our posts because I don’t believe in this whole “sexual tension” thing that toxic shippers go around preaching about. Even if it were there, that’s not for us to discuss because their sex life is none of our business.

Next.

2. “never tells me he loves him” – Never tells you he loves him? And why, pray tell, should he tell you, specifically? Yes, I’m being petty, so what. Love speaks many different languages, and saying the words “I love you” is just one of many, many different ways in which you can let someone know you love and cherish them, romantically and platonically. Years ago when Seokjin posted a cover on SoundCloud he said in the accompanying post that he prefers saying I like you over I love you, so I guess that means he just doesn’t love anyone, yes? Besides, is he obliged to stand in front of the camera and profess his undying love to Namjoon for you to believe he loves our dearest leader?

Isn’t it enough that he shows his love and respect for Namjoon in other ways, like praising him when Namjoon was being hard on himself so Seokjin told him he did well and that he always does well even in tricky situations, or being by his side during red carpets and other such things because Namjoon once asked him to do so because he feels calmer when Seokjin is by his side? Isn’t that a beautiful way of showing someone you love them, regardless if it’s romantic or platonic love?

Next.

3. “never goes out of his way to spoil him” – Is Seokjin Namjoon’s sugar daddy? Did I miss something?

Next.

4. “never possesses over him. Never shows any sign of jealousy” – now this point I have the biggest rage at because neither of these things—possessiveness and jealousy—are good things, especially not in a romantic relationship, but really, they aren’t a good thing in any kind of relationship. Possessiveness is a slippers slope, as is jealousy, the former being a great gateway toward an abusive relationship and while that might be “”””cute”””” in raunchy romance novels and movies, it isn’t in real life. And neither is jealousy. The only thing jealousy really tells and shows you, in the context you are going for, is insecurity and a lack of faith in your relationship and especially your partner. And that, again, isn’t a good or healthy thing for a relationship, especially not a romantic one. I know toxic shippers eat up this whole jealousy bs, YouTube is full of it after all and brings in hundreds of thousands of views (and dollars), but that has nothing to do with real life. So, the fact that we never see Seokjin, or Namjoon, jealous or possessive over the other? That is a good thing. Besides, enlighten me, how is this jealousy supposed to look like because true jealousy doesn’t appear written across your face in neon letters. I’m curious.

Next.

5. “Namjin is merely a friendship and a professional one at that.” – if that is your opinion, I’m happy for you. I won’t go out of my way to prove to you why I think differently or why you should because that’s not what I’m here for. Yes, I have a certain opinion on Namjin, that’s true, but I’m not a toxic shipper who will fights someone tooth and nail over it because that’s stupid. And won’t change anything anyway. Besides, my opinion doesn’t in any shape or form negate that they are friends. Every good relationship should have friendship as basis, and I very much believe that they are very close friends, while your phrasing makes it seem like you think they are only work friends, as in people who are friends during working hours but stop once they clock out of work, just saying.

The purpose of this blog isn’t to somehow convert people into shippers or convince them of something, instead it’s simply supposed to be a happy space where we share our opinions, have fun with Bangtan, their music and everything else, and can have civil conversations without calling anyone out or calling each other names. It’s literally in our blog description “Sharing thoughts on everything Bangtan, as well as vmin and namjin”, meaning it is a blog “designed” for both OT7s as well as people who already are vminnies or namjinists, or both, and yet if someone happens to start liking one of these two pairings because of our posts, like I’ve seen happen with some readers and namjin, that’s great, but that’s not our primary goal in any kind of way.

This is our blog which also means we have the freedom to answer whichever asks we want to and however quickly we want or can. Chances are, perhaps, the way you phrased your ask simply didn’t sit well with us and thus we decided against answering it at the time. Just some food for thought.

Lastly, there are a lot of blogs that surely represent your opinions and agree with you, so what, exactly, are you looking for on our blog? Do you think by sending an ask like this, or questioning my opinions in such a manner, you’ll be able to convert us away from our opinions? Neither of us forces anyone to agree with everything we say, so you don’t have to either, and we also don’t force anyone to read our posts. If you don’t like what we post, you are free to look for a different blog with which you’ll be able to agree and find your opinion represented, I won’t stop you. Enjoy.

#answered ask

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cryingcow · 4 years ago

Text

Katsuya & Watase - Osaka Talent Disaster [RGGO]

Last January’s 2-part scratch card mini-event featured Katsuya and Watase. Originally I saved the event because I loved Watase and his meme-y pose here (plus a lot of people in the FB group rave about him), but after the experience that is seeing Katsuya’s unnecessarily bare ass on the tv screen last week, I have to say that Katsuya has won me over XD

Warning for slight Y5 spoilers (mostly Akiyama’s chapter)!

PROLOGUE

|Before news of the 7th Omi Alliance Chairman’s grave illness reached the ears of every yakuza organization all over Japan . . . when the Tojo Clan and Omi Alliance exchanged equal cups and peace in the eastern part of the yakuza society in Japan was still maintained----|

Osaka Talent Employee: “Chairman, the information you want to urgently hear . . .”

Katsuya: “I told you to call me ‘President’ while working here, didn’t I?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “I apologize, President . . .”

Katsuya: “Good . . . what is this urgent information?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes, well actually, last night someone stole a large number of scratch card tickets prepared for the event the day after tomorrow.”

Katsuya: “Scratch card tickets? The ones we were planning to distribute on the event the day after tomorrow?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes, it is said that all 1000 scratch card tickets we prepared has been stolen.”

Katsuya: “Where and when on earth did they steal such things . . . ?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “It is currently under investigation. What should we do, President?”

Katsuya: “There is no choice but to take measures against such an occurrence . . . Rescheduling the event to minimize damage . . . The inclusion of scratch cards on KALEN’s 1st anniversary album has already been advertised on commercials . . . Be prepared to notify the record company and other related parties that the scratch cards are no longer sealed. Tell the Promotion Department about preparing a contact point for this matter. It is also necessary to prepare an apology announcement to be posted on the official website . . . For the customers who have made multiple reservations for scratch cards, get ready to process refunds right away . . . If necessary, we’ll film an apology comment from me. Contact the studio and the staff . . . If despite all the investigations today the scratch cards don’t show up, be prepared to do everything I said tomorrow.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Then, will we still distribute scratch cards the day after tomorrow?”

Katsuya: “At this point, preparing new scratch cards is out of the question. There is no choice but to prepare to face cancellation . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Understood. The various preparation will be made . . .”

Katsuya: “Oh, and contact Kanai . . . I want him to search for the criminal thoroughly and settle things to make sure this never happens again . . . Leave a mark on the criminal to show where we draw the line on these kinds of incidents . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Y-Yes! Understood!!”

----

Watase: “What did you say?! They’ve really made a move?!”

Watase Family Executive: “Ye-Yeah . . . the members who saw them also confirmed the crest. It’s definitely the ones from Sakai Family who are wandering around Sotenbori.”

Watase: “Sakai Family, the veteran yakuza organization in Kobe that has been refusing to fall under our umbrella for a long time . . . What the hell are they doing in Sotenbori?”

Watase Family Executive: “According to the footsoldiers I ordered to follow the footsteps of the Sakai Family, it seems they are screaming about Osaka Talent . . .”

Watase: “Osaka Talent? Why are they bothering Ka-chan’s front business . . . ?”

Watase Family Executive: “I don’t know . . . but there seems to be no doubt about it.”

Watase: “What is Sakai Family, who has been silent for a decade, planning . . . I have no idea at all, but I’ll have to inform Ka-chan about this. I’m going to go talk with Ka-chan over this. Keep tracking their movements. Yeah?”

Watase Family Executive: “Yes! Understood!!”

----

Osaka Talent Employee: “President, Watase-sama said he has an important matter to discuss with you. Should I let him through?”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki? Alright, let him in.”

Watase: “Oh, Ka-chan. Sorry to barge in all of a sudden . . . is now a good time?”

Katsuya: “Yeah, of course I don’t mind . . . Did something happen for Aniki to come here directly?”

Watase: “No, it’s just that a very rare guest has arrived in Sotenbori. But I can’t read the guest’s thoughts . . . So I’m thinking of listening to Ka-chan’s opinion . . .”

Katsuya: “A rare guest?”

Watase: “It seems that the people of Sakai Family have been spotted in Sotenbori . . .”

Katsuya: “Sakai Family? The hostile Kobe-based veteran organization?”

Watase: “Right. Sakai Family has been quiet for a long time. They’re searching for Ka-chan’s Osaka Talent for some reason.”

Katsuya: “. . . Is that true?”

Watase: “Yeah, no doubt. My underlings confirmed that they are yelling around about Osaka Talent.”

Katsuya: “Sakai Family is after us . . . Then is it Sakai Family who stole that . . . ?”

Watase: “What, Ka-chan. Did they steal anything?”

Katsuya: “Actually, a lot of scratch card tickets we were planning to use at an event got stolen last night . . . We were just looking for the criminal . . . but now I wonder if they were looking for us.”

Watase: “Well, sure, Sakai Family is suspicious in terms of timing. But why scratch cards?”

Katsuya: “I can’t think of any reason why Sakai Family would steal it. Those scratch cards are my idol’s, for exchanging with prizes at the event . . . It’s not something that a veteran yakuza organization would need . . .”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Excuse me for coming in!! An urgent report for the President . . .”

Katsuya: “I’m in the middle of talking with an important guest----"

Watase: “It’s fine, Ka-chan. He said it was an important report.”

Katsuya: “Apologies, Watase-no-aniki . . . I’m sorry for the trouble.”

Katsuya: “What is the urgent report?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “I received a report that included information on the thief . . . Just before the scratch cards were stolen, there were sightings of Kobe’s yakuza organization Sakai Family near the scene . . .”

Katsuya: “. . . Sakai Family? There’s no mistake?”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Yes . . . Mikawa, the young head of the Sakai Family, was the one witnessed. I’m sure he’s a very well-known person . . .”

Watase: “Haw . . . in that case, there’s no doubt the scratch card thief is Mikawa of the Sakai Family or his subordinates?”

Katsuya: “There isn’t enough evidence to conclude that . . . but we can’t say they have nothing to do with it. We’ll need to hear more from that person named Mikawa . . .”

Katsuya: “Contact Kanai. Tell him to look for the Sakai Family that has slipped into Sotenbori.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “Y-Yes! Understood.”

Katsuya: “If the offender is an officer, I will move too. Call your aides and tell them to bring in the car.”

Osaka Talent Employee: “U-Understood! Right away!!”

{The employee runs out.}

Katsuya: “This is quite the incident, Aniki. I’ll deal with this immediately----”

Watase: “Ka-chan, I’ll collaborate this time too!”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki? But . . . there is no reason for Aniki to deal with problems with my front business----"

Watase: “We don’t know what their aim is. This incident might be trouble . . . Yeah, Ka-chan! It ain’t hard!! For the time being, why don’t we look for Mikawa of Sakai Family and catch him?!”

Katsuya: “Understood. Thank you for your cooperation, Watase-no-aniki.”

-END-

EPILOGUE

Mikawa: “Why is the Osaka Enterprises President and Watase Family Chairman showing up together and chasing me?! This is ridiculous?!”

Watase: “You think the Sakai Family can just have their way in Sotenbori without the Omi Alliance noticing? Making off with another family’s possession on our own turf, that’s the height of stupidity . . .”

Katsuya: “Besides, the scratch cards you stole are my property. I can’t let you go after you did that.”

Mikawa: “O-Osaka Talent is Osaka Enterprises’ front company?!”

Watase: “You knew that, and you stole from Osaka Talent?”

Mikawa: “I didn’t know!! If I knew, I wouldn’t do something like this!! Who-Who would think that the yakuza would advance into the entertainment industry?!”

Katsuya: “. . . So what was your purpose in stealing the scratch cards?”

Mikawa: “Th-That’s . . .”

Watase: “You don’t have a problem with confessing . . . right?”

{Watase grabs Mikawa’s arm and twists it behind his back.}

Mikawa: “I-I understand!! I’ll talk, so please forgive me!!”

{Watase lets go and steps back.}

Watase: “Yeah keep that in mind. Now from the beginning.”

Mikawa: “My boss got hooked on this idol KALEN . . . He really wanted an autographed body pillow, which is the special limited-edition prize for the 1st anniversary event . . .”

Watase: “No way, you stole all the scratch cards because you wanted to win the lottery?!”

Mikawa: “Yes! It can’t be helped!! There’s only one of the limited-edition prize. The only way to get the winning ticket is to steal all the scratch card tickets and search for it!!”

Watase: “Hahaha! Ka-chan and this idol are very popular!”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki, don’t hit me on my back . . .”

Katsuya: “However, to steal the scratch cards for that . . . Didn’t it occur to you that the idol would be in trouble?”

Mikawa: “As underlings, our job is to get what our boss wants and give it to him. I don’t know what happens to the idols.”

Katsuya: “If Boss Sakai is really a fan of our KALEN, I’m sure he would be sad to hear what you did.”

Mikawa: “What did you say?! I did this for Boss----”

Katsuya: “If all the scratch cards do not return in their original form, we have no choice but to cancel the 1st anniversary event. If that happens, wouldn’t Boss Sakai be upset?”

Mikawa: “Th-That is . . .”

Katsuya: “This incident that you caused for the sake of your boss invites such consequences . . . Thank you for supporting KALEN. However, due compensation for this shall properly follow. . . . Please inform Boss Sakai.”

Mikawa: “You-You’ll let me go?!”

Katsuya: “Yeah, but you must convey these words to Boss Sakai.”

Mikawa: “Th-Thank you . . . I’ll definitely tell my boss. Well then, please excuse me . . .”

{Mikawa runs off.}

Watase: “Was it okay to let him escape, Ka-chan?”

Katsuya: “I just got in touch with my subordinates . . . It seems all the stolen scratch cards can be recovered. I was considering cancelling the event the day after tomorrow, but it seems it can be held safely. There’s no problem . . . I didn’t miss anything. You heard what I said to him, didn’t you? ‘Due compensation for this shall properly follow’ . . .”

Watase: “. . . Ka-chan’s nasty expression, I feel like this is the first time I’ve seen that in a while. For underestimating the Omi Alliance, I figured the Watase Family can properly rake the Sakai Family over the coals. Seeing Ka-chan’s face, I changed my mind. Can I leave the disposal of Sakai Family to Ka-chan?”

Katsuya: “Yes, I intended to do that from the beginning.”

Watase: “Isn’t this unusual for Ka-chan, who hates fighting, to do?”

Katsuya: “Watase-no-aniki, I am also a yakuza. Lately, I’ve been devoted to doing honest work, but I can’t just allow myself to be underestimated and keep silent, can I?”

Watase: “Then I’ll leave this to Osaka Enterprises! Go wild with all your might, Ka-chan!!”

Katsuya: “Please leave it to me. I’ll clean it up in one night . . .”

----

|That night, Katsuya attacked the Sakai Family office with the full force of Osaka Enterprises. After the attack by Osaka Enterprises, Sakai Family was demolished overnight.|

-END-

Masterlist

#aka 'shit the Omi does when the Tojo isnt making a mess'#they have fun bonding sessions apparently with a side of murder and corpse disposal #rgg online #rggo lore #rggo #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #masaru watase #watase masaru #katsuya naoki #naoki katsuya

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