#Everything is a foregone conclusion

[breadmecoshy]

I swear, the multiverse is real

Do you want to know how this drawing was born?

My friend and I went to the spider-Man movie yesterday, she's a punk in all black, I'm a hippie in all the colors of joy of life and striped pants

We had a little time before the session, so we go into a clothing store, go to different hangers, and then turn to each other at the same time

She - with a black blouse in her hands, I - with a colorful hippie shirt

And then I saw these two in the movie

[mmelolabelle]

Helaena didn’t fight back or try to stop Blood and Cheese because she knew it wouldn’t make a difference, the same way you or I know that the sky is ‘up’ and that if you let go of an object from a great height it’s going to fall to the ground and break. Not because they were two men and Helaena’s a young woman with no weapon and no fighting experience, but because she’s a Dreamer.

This poor girl has been seeing cryptic visions of terrible futures and hearing prophetic riddles in her head her whole life — whatever specific knowledge she may or may not have had about what “the rats” were going to do, she knew it was going to happen (because what she knows always happens) and that she couldn’t stop it (because she has never been able to stop it).

“They killed the boy.” Not “They killed my son.” Not “They killed Jaehaerys.” It might not even register as something personal that those two men have done to her and her baby. Helaena experiences her son’s murder as a horrific forgone conclusion; ‘the boy’ was always going to be killed.

[uncanny-tranny]

Going to be really honest, if you're disabled, you truly don't owe people - or the world - access to your diagnoses, symptoms, accessibility needs (and why you need them), mental health history, trauma, or anything like that.

The urge to force people to lay themselves out so they can be picked apart, consumed, and feasted upon by people who demand that their comfort outweigh that of a disabled person's is an ableist pipe dream. It is the urge to control that which you feel you have no control over, and it's your right to refuse to play that game, that role.

[sysig]

VUXPet (Patreon)

[reitziluz]

one of the worst things is when you're undertaking a complicated, high-stakes, time sensitive Ordeal comprised of many smaller tasks and tribulations (moving apartments) of course the last issues to resolve are a smattering of minor decisions related to already solved for problems (when exactly a friend will drive the rest of my recycling to the recycling center?) and The Thing That Will Destroy Everything If It Fails.

an even worse thing is when the Thing With Grave Consequences is something you cannot do anything about except wait for people you cannot influence at this point to make a decision and move forward with it.

...

but hey, i'm getting the keys on friday and my bed will be delivered on monday! so that's something at least

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions.  It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

~

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

~

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

~

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

[bunnyreaper]

ghoap x pregnant!reader--they come back from deployment and you have some news

(18+/suggestive content, pregnancy, brief mention of pregnancy loss)

finally, your boys were home. you'd hated that they had to get the call, at such a crucial time in your pregnancy too.

you'd waved them off with a smile, trying not to let them know how much you were hoping for them to return to a version of you with no morning sickness.

you hadn't been that lucky, them coming home just after a morning spent in the bathroom. your men had of course rushed to your aid, barely out of their work clothes before they tended to you.

after simon has made you all tea and johnny has bundled you into his arms, palms resting on your growing bump, you realise you need to tell them the latest development in your pregnancy.

"we need to talk." you begin, squeezing your eyes shut at how severe your tone is. you're happy, beyond happy, but you have no idea how the men will react. 

every part of this process had taken hours and hours of open discussion and planning and communication. this wasn't a part of it. 

simon takes a seat next to both you and johnny, bringing both of you into his hold. you can feel his concern without even opening your eyes. "yeah?"

you take a deep breath, opening your eyes to see both men's eyes sparkling with worry. johnny's hand curls round your bump protectively, simon joining in too.

"bonnie, you're scaring us." johnny mumbles, words strained as his throat tightens. "are ye mad we missed yer scan?" 

simon rushes to guess what the problem is too. "is the baby okay?"

when you don't reply quickly, he pushes, voice just a touch firm. "lovie." 

no use keeping it inside any longer, you suppose, especially when the guys are getting so worried. you really hope they won't take the news poorly, that they'll be as excited as you were when you first found out.

it had taken everything within you to not call them then and there, risking their mission or interrupting their day just to get through to them.

now you finally get to share the news with them, and hopefully the joy too.

"we're having twins."

"twins." simon repeats back, eyes flickering between yours and johnny's--his expression is impossible to read.

"fuckin' hell." johnny grumbles, and when you look to him, his look is similarly impassable. 

it's hard to tell how either of them are taking it as they stare at each other, then to you, then back again. just watching them makes your throat tighten, not knowing what's coming next.

"ye don't think..." johnny starts, not able to finish as simon knows exactly what he's thinking.

"... one each?" the blonde wonders aloud too.

the two men share a smirk, one that clearly shows their satisfaction with your news. the look they share makes it seem like it's already a foregone conclusion--one baby fathered by simon, one by Johnny.

"it's not likely--" you stammer, but the two men are already making a move. 

johnny's lips fall to your neck, as simon's capture yours in a kiss.

"better make it more likely then, lass."

simon pulls you up to your feet, johnny joining you as they drag you toward the bedroom. their hands roam across your body, groping and teasing.

"better make it a fuckin' certainty." simon growls, pulling you across the threshold of the bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

both men work on lifting you into the air between them, pinning you and pulling at you. 

"that's not how it works!" you squeak, shivering as both men growl into your skin, the two of them going feral at the idea of breeding you--even if you're already pregnant.

"not how it works?" simon purrs, his fingers diving beneath your shorts. "don't fuckin' care how it works."

[wilwheaton]

The way to constantly inject Trump’s felony conviction into the campaign, other than remembering that “convicted felon” is now his first name, is to simply make his pathetic whining, excuses and demands for never-ending life mulligans the center of the campaign against him. He’s a disgrace but more than that an embarrassment. It won’t be hard because he’ll be making this claim non-stop through November, just a constant cue up for the same lethal mockery. It is the heart of his politics to always be jacking the conversation up to higher and higher levels of drama, even when the drama is his own menace, indeed especially when the drama is his own menace. That’s his power. What cuts him down is to zero in on the pathetic excuse-making and whining, a trait all of us associate with the most odious and pitiful people we’ve ever known. And let that pull the disgrace of his many crimes and prosecutions along with it.

A Bit of Trump Trial Campaign Advice

Trump is a convicted felon who has promised to inflict as much pain and suffering on the country as he can if he makes his way back to the White House. Now, are you going to believe the evidence of your eyes and ears, accumulated over the course of nearly a decade, now? Or are you going to believe the incredibly complicated story the Magas tell you? You know, the one that requires you to reject all of that truth and lived experience in favor of a red string conspiracy theory that collapses under mild scrutiny?

The Vichy Republicans have made their choice, and they ALL ought to go down with their cancerous leader. It’s outrageous that this is not a foregone conclusion.

I’ve been following politics long enough to know that, if there is one group of people in the world that can take this simple, winning, easily understood way to persuade voters and fuck it all up, it’s my Democrats. Please, please, please, don’t fuck it up this time. Literally everything is on the line.

[cannibalisticskittles]

so much of the wigmaker's job continues to stay with me but especially this bit.

like. do you think illario hearing lucanis brush off the possibility of his death again and again contributed to illario giving lucanis to zara.

because yes, of course there's jealousy. of course there is. lucanis is primed to get everything illario wants and nothing illario does seems to change that in the slightest. he can never be good enough, not when there's lucanis to measure up to.

but. not only does lucanis not actually want what's coming his way (he does not at all want to be first talon but they both know caterina DOES want this and lucanis could never tell her no), he's also throwing himself into these jobs with such disregard for his personal safety that there's a sense of inevitability that surrounds the idea of his death.

this conversation feels like... it may not have been discussed like this so clearly before, but they've at least poked around the edges in the past. thought about it. and this moment might have been a turning point, in a way -- illario coming to terms with the fact that lucanis really just will. not. stop. for ANYTHING. his cousin WILL get himself killed doing this and lucanis won’t have any regrets. he’ll leave illario to go this alone. (no one to follow after anymore.)

i wonder if he started to think -- if lucanis is going to die anyway, maybe it’d be better to have that happen sooner, rather than later.

lucanis wouldn’t be happy as first talon (+ honestly, maybe this part is a stretch, but illario seems to see that what lucanis is NOW isn’t so much ‘happy’ as it is ‘obedient and content to accept the scraps that gives him’), and he’s GOING to get himself killed doing this, anyway…

so yeah, he could wait it out. wait for lucanis to do something foolish enough that he can't just walk away from it. maybe he’ll even last long enough to be made first talon (if caterina can bear to loosen her grip from the title) and be miserable for a while. years even, maybe! before lucanis, again, does something he can’t walk away from.

or.

illario could cut through all the pointless waiting and get right to the point. go straight to where this was always going to end up. and if illario is in charge of this, maybe he can benefit from it, and salvage one good thing from this whole mess, instead of being caught up in it later down the line.

(which then might tread into the territory of anticipated grief, too – lucanis' loss will be agony, but, if illario controls when and how it happens, he can control his grief. …except he hadn’t accepted the inevitability of lucanis’ death quite as well as he’d thought and when he gets sloshed at the wake, real grief seeps through the cracks)

just... something about this conversation. both of them viewing lucanis’ death as a foregone conclusion. lucanis accepting that easily, and illario struggling with that more -- and maybe having that shape his actions. not exactly a healthy expression of grief, but since when has anything this family done been healthy?

[ooooo-mcyt]

I don't know if Scott actually knows how to separate a sacrifice and a betrayal either.

Logically he knows the difference, of course. But functionally? If he's going to give them everything anyways- his items, his time, his loyalty, his life- then what does it matter whether he gives or they take?

Martyn stabbed Scott in the back in Limited life while Gem was devastated to be asked to kill him in Secret Life.

It didn't make a difference.

"My own Mean Gill, I wouldn't have it any other way"

"Sometimes you just gotta take one for the band."

The end outcome is the same, they take part of him, and they get further because of it. The circumstances don't really matter, because Scott's life being theirs is a foregone conclusion to him either way.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Synopsis: Despite an initial reluctance, Tabito heads off to a mysterious soccer program by the name of Blue Lock. Luckily, it’s not long before you get to see him again. Continuation of Five Ways to Kill a Crow and How to Drown a Crow!

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 16.1k

Content Warnings: spoilers for the u-20 arc of the manga, otoya slander to an unhealthy degree, reader’s best friend is crazily down bad, the bllk boys have karasu STRESSING, half of them think reader is fine af 💯, did i mention otoya slander because there is a LOT of that, 99% crackfic so don’t expect stunning characterization in this one it’s mostly silly compared to the first two parts, chigiri’s sister is also referred to as chigiri, reader & co. accidentally become famous

A/N: here is the final continuation of fwtkac that you requested karasu anon 💖 incidentally also the longest…w this installment the mini-series is over 30k words LMAOAO i hope you have enjoyed the ride because ik i have!!

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own. now closed!

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult to reveal your relationship with Tabito to the rest of your friends and classmates. There wasn’t an official announcement or anything along those lines — neither of you were that big on social media, so you didn’t bother with launching each other there, and since half of the school already thought you were dating, things settled into an even rhythm quite quickly.

Tabito’s friends and teammates weren’t all-too-shocked, either. Apparently, you were just about the last person to find out about the crush he had had on you since middle school, so to everyone else, him asking you out had been all but foregone conclusion. What your respective circles were surprised about, at least at first, was that you had said yes.

You’re way too hot for him. This was what Tabito’s group said upon finding out about the news, which was met with crabbiness from Tabito and nothing more than a snort from you. They were just messing with him in any way they could, considering how difficult it typically was to find cracks in his flawless demeanor, so it was easy to dismiss. On the other hand, your own friends gave you confused looks — weren’t you just talking about how much you hate him? You could only shrug, because they weren’t wrong, exactly. You had been complaining about him only days previously, but it was funny how quickly things could change. They accepted it without much more questioning, however, congratulating you on finally getting a boyfriend, and after that life continued as it previously had, except now whenever your friend groups decided to hang out together, you would find yourself at Tabito’s side instead of as far as possible from him.

Being his official girlfriend was everything you had expected and more. He got along well with your parents — your father remembered his name and asked you how he was doing constantly, and your mother was always pleased by the steady supply of flowers he provided for your kitchen counter — as well as your friends, managing to strike that elusive balance of showing them kindness without being overly involved in their lives. His family adored you, especially his older sister, who frequently took you out shopping or for coffee, much to Tabito’s chagrin. All in all, things were going well, and though you two still competed over your grades, it was without the fervor of the past, so that you were gladder for one another’s success than you were incensed by them.

“I hate couples,” your best friend announced one day at lunch. You had finished eating early, so you were leaning against Tabito’s arm and playing Subway Surfers on his phone while he talked to one of his teammates about their upcoming match. Ever since you had discovered his penchant for the childish game, it had become a personal goal of yours to beat his high score, though you had not yet even come close.

“Hm,” you said. She scowled.

“I’m serious!” she said.

“You’re just mad because you’re single,” you said. “I told you I’m working on it, didn’t I? It’s not my fault all of Tabito’s friends are losers!”

She sighed. “I know. Actually, you two aren’t the ones that prompted me to say that this time, oddly enough.”

“Oh, then who did?” you said.

“You know how I went to visit my cousins last weekend?” she said. You nodded. “Well, we went to watch a movie while we were there, that new one I was really excited about, but somehow it ended up that we got stuck behind this guy on a date!”

“How’d you know that he was on a date?” you said.

“Because there was a girl sitting next to him, and he sucked her face off for the entire movie, thereby completely blocking the screen. Can you believe it? The worst part is, he was totally stupid looking!” she said.

“That’s annoying,” you said, secure in the knowledge that you and Tabito would never do something like that. Public displays of affection beyond hugging or holding hands weren’t really your vibe, and just the thought of making out in a movie theater caused you to feel nauseous. “How’d you know he was dumb looking, though? Wasn’t the theater dark?”

“I confronted him afterwards,” she said.

“While he was on a date? That’s a bold move,” you said. “What did the girl say?”

“Huh? Oh, she had already left. Guess she wasn’t that into him,” your best friend said.

“Yikes,” you said before pouting as your little Subway Surfers character was hit by a train. “Aw, man, I died. At this rate, I’ll never beat the high score.”

“Hey, can I have my phone for a second?” Tabito said, turning to you and plucking the device out of your hand before you could answer. You frowned, so he patted you on the head. “I’ll give it back. I just need to text our coach and remind him to bring my cooler back during the game tonight.”

“Whatever,” you said before directing your attention towards your best friend again. “Okay, describe this guy. I’m really interested in what could have driven you to judge his appearance so harshly.”

“Listen!” she said. “His hair was green!”

“Green?” you said. 

“Yes! Well, mostly it was a grayish white, but there was a green streak, and the undercut part was also green,” she said. You tried to picture it and found you were entirely incapable of imagining anything but the most ridiculous of styles.

“That’s wild,” you said. “Who told him that was a good idea?”

“I just wonder how much bleach he has to use to get it to be that color,” she said. You shuddered.

“I know for a fact that he had the most damaged, dead, crunchy-looking hair ever,” you said. Your best friend shook her head.

“It was actually pretty shiny and luscious,” she said. “If it weren’t for the weird choice of color and his terrible theater etiquette, I could see why someone might consider him attractive.”

“Maybe you can fix him,” you suggested. She immediately scowled in a clear-cut refusal.

“The main thing I’ve learned from your relationship with Karasu is that you can never fix a man’s hair, no matter how much he likes you,” she said.

“Huh? Did you say my name?” Tabito said, handing you his phone back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you and your best friend said in unison.

“That was suspicious,” he informed you.

“Just know that I’ll break up with you if you ever dye even a strand of your hair green,” you said.

He gave you an odd look. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyways, that’s my rant for the day,” your best friend said as Tabito evidently decided it would be for the best to leave you to your own conversation, which he was missing far too much context from to possibly understand.

“That really is awful,” you said. “Don’t worry. Someday soon, we’ll find you someone to date, and then you can be the annoying couple everyone slanders. Trust me on that one.”

“I do,” she said. “I have faith that you’re just being picky because you love me so much that you refuse to let me be with a substandard man.”

“Exactly,” you said.

She made a heart with her hands. “You’re the best.”

“I try!”

Now that autumn was bleeding into winter, it was getting chillier and chillier out during Bambi Osaka’s games. Thankfully, Tabito had draped his large jacket over your shoulders before running off to yell at his coach for once again forgetting to bring his cooler back, so you were mostly protected from the frost in the air. You could not say the same for the Bambi Osaka boys, who all looked miserably cold as they jogged in place, trying to warm up in their shorts and jerseys while Tabito and the coach argued.

“Y/N! I didn’t realize you were coming today!” a familiar voice said, its owner leaning over the fence separating the bleachers from the field. You extended your hand to ruffle his hair.

“I come to all of your games, Hiori, why would this one be any different?” you said. He gave you a sheepish grin.

“I know, but now that’s it not as nice out, I thought you might not,” he said. You pulled on the sleeve of your jacket to draw attention to it; Hiori grunted in approval when he noticed.

“Don’t worry, Tabito’s on top of it. Just between us two, I think he would cry if I had to miss one of his games, so he always makes sure I’m as comfortable as possible when I come,” you said.

“He’s a really considerate guy,” Hiori said. As if on cue, both of you turned to look at where he and their coach were still going at it.

“Holy fucking shit!” Tabito screamed. “Give me my cooler back, dude, you’ve had it for weeks!”

“I need it for the party I’m throwing this Saturday!” their coach shouted back. 

“I don’t give a damn about your party! Give me back my cooler!”

“Right,” you said, stifling a laugh. “Super considerate.”

Hiori cringed. “I guess nobody’s perfect.”

Ever since you had started dating Tabito, Hiori had become something of a permanent fixture in your life. He never tried to flirt with you or anything — you didn’t even think he was capable of having those feelings — but he was just so used to trailing after Tabito that, by extension, he began to follow you around as well. It wasn’t really that bad; you both lived close to one another, and frequently he’d ask you to come to the convenience store with him so he could ask you for advice under the guise of buying snacks together. You always went along with it, as you sensed he didn’t have many other sources of reliable help and wisdom.

For his part, Tabito didn’t really mind that Hiori’s attachment to him now included you. The thought of being jealous of the younger boy never even crossed his mind, mostly because he, too, didn’t really believe that the gentle and benign Hiori was capable of anything as underhanded as stealing his girlfriend. Overall, he was more bemused than anything, treating him with the careful fondness of someone who had been given a puppy they had no idea how to care for but found cute anyways.

Soon enough, Tabito joined you and Hiori, dragging his feet and hanging his head as he flopped against the fence. Exhaling, you reached out and stroked the side of his face with the back of your hand.

“Any success?” you said.

“Nope,” he said. “Another week without my cooler.”

“At least it’s getting to be winter,” Hiori said. “You won’t really need it to keep your drinks chilled for a while, right?”

“Tell that to my sister,” Tabito said. “She keeps bugging me about where I put it. I guess she needs it for college or something. Don’t ask me why.”

“I’m sure he’ll bring it to the next game,” Hiori said optimistically. Tabito let out a defeated sigh.

“We can only hope,” he said.

“In the meantime, you two should go over with the rest of your team before you both get yelled at for slacking off and get me banned from coming to anymore games,” you said.

“If he keeps holding my cooler hostage and bans you from games, I’ll fight that dumbass coach!” Tabito said. You pushed him away affectionately.

“Alright, alright, I feel very comforted by that. Thank you for defending my — and your cooler’s — honor,” you said. “Go play soccer.”

With a joking salute, Tabito, and also Hiori, ran off to join the rest of their team, and you settled back to sit with the rest of the attendees of the game, who were mostly parents of the players. All of them knew who you were at this point, though, so you were welcomed with open arms, easily joining in on their discussions about such subjects as how their children were doing in school and what their plans for dinner were.

It was a comfortable existence, and as you pulled Tabito’s jacket tighter around you, you thought that you could get used to it. If only things could stay exactly like this, you would be quite happy. If you could spend every day with Tabito and Hiori and the rest of your friends, you would never complain again.

Unfortunately, life was always changing, as you knew all too well. One day, both Tabito and Hiori received letters summoning them to some soccer training camp far away from your corner of the country, and though Hiori leapt at the chance, Tabito was initially uncertain at the prospect of leaving everything behind for a program that wasn’t even a sure thing.

“What if it doesn’t help me and I give up my schooling for it?” he said, pacing around his bedroom. You raised your eyebrows at him from your seat at his desk, where you were working on a lab report for Chemistry. “Do they really expect me to run there during my last year of high school? What about board exams and college? How am I supposed to get into a good university if I’m playing soccer when I should be studying?”

“Why do you think you won’t succeed in the program?” you said. “You’re amazing at soccer. If you join, you’ll definitely do well, and then you’ll become a professional athlete, so you won’t have to worry about college or anything like that.”

“Of course I’ll do well,” he said. This actually wasn’t anything like his normal self-confidence; when he was in this kind of mood, he didn’t brag, he only evaluated himself and the situation honestly, weighing the costs and benefits until he could come to a conclusion that he was satisfied with. “I just don’t like the thought of not having a fallback option. Even if I become a professional athlete, things like injuries can happen to anyone. It’s not smart to not have a backup plan. That’s why I wasn’t planning on trying out for the U-20 squad until after I got accepted to a university.”

“You can’t give up on your dreams for the sake of a backup plan, though,” you said, finishing up the report and clicking the submit button, shutting your laptop and spinning the chair around so you were looking at him. “I know it’s nerve-wracking, but isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

Blue Lock and its outcomes were like the water — entirely out of Tabito’s control, and hence something he was automatically opposed to. But unlike swimming and wading, this was also an opportunity for him to pursue his greatest dreams, so you stood and grabbed him by the shoulders. He halted in his tracks, cocking his head at you as you clasped his hands in between your own and gave him the sternest look you could muster.

“Listen to me,” you said. “You are not going to drown. You’re not because I say you’re not, and have I ever led you astray? You’re going to go to this Blue Lock place with Hiori, and then the two of you are going to come back and be so good at soccer that you immediately join the national team and end up so rich and famous that I can’t help but marry you and become your trophy wife.”

“When you say you, you’re referring to me, not Hiori, right?” he checked with a snicker. You poked him in the chest.

“Obviously,” you said.

“Do you really think it’ll be okay?” he said. 

“I think you won’t know if you don’t try. You’re so smart, Tabito; even if you somehow fail as a soccer player, I don’t think you’ll be unable to go to college. In fact, you could probably do this camp, come back and take your exams while on a break, and still get second in our class,” you said.

“Second?” he said.

“Of course, I’ll be the one getting first,” you said. “Second is still respectable, though. Any university of note would kill to have you, but a chance to improve your soccer career like this might not come around again for a while, if ever. Take it. Take it with both hands and don’t regret it a bit, okay?”

“You’re convincing,” he said, embracing you tightly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you.”

“So you’ll do it?” you said.

“I’ll do it.”

A week later, he was gone. Even his phone was taken away, leaving you without any manner of contacting him in the meantime. To be sure, it was lonely, but you were too busy being proud of him to be depressed about it. Besides, you weren’t the type to abandon your friends just because you were in a relationship, so your invitations to events had never stopped coming. Now, you just said yes to them more often, much to everyone’s excitement.

That was what you did while Tabito was busy at Blue Lock: you hung out with your friends, having sleepovers and going for platonic dates with the ones you were particularly close with, and you visited his sister at her college when she was free, so you could hear embarrassing stories about his past, which you carefully filed away for later use. Occasionally, you even met up with Yukimiya’s girlfriend — in a shocking twist, he had also been invited to Blue Lock, much like Tabito — and the two of you would speculate about what your boyfriends might be up to in that strange facility and whether they might’ve met each other yet or not. 

It wasn’t horrible. Undeniably, you missed him, but it was bearable, and you knew he would be back as soon as he could be, so for the most part, you didn’t let yourself grow too sad. Your father was probably the worst off out of anyone, actually, always nagging you about when Tabito would return. He had grown used to having a friend to watch sports alongside, and was now entirely forlorn without any company to discuss his beloved games with. 

Some weeks after Blue Lock began, you received two emails with nearly identical subject headers. With a confused frown, you opened both of them in turn, but slowly, your expression turned to a smile as you read over their contents.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 player number 6, Tabito Karasu, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Congratulations, Y/N L/N! Blue Lock 11 substitute number 16, Yo Hiori, has designated you as the recipient of his friends/family ticket to the Blue Lock 11 vs Japan U-20 match! Scan the attached QR code upon your arrival to the stadium in order to make your way to your VIP seat.

Both Tabito and Hiori had chosen to give you their seats, which meant you technically had an extra one, so you could bring someone along with you. Your first thought was your father, considering how much he loved soccer, but then you pondered it further and decided that you probably did not want to spend the whole match listening to him explaining the rules. Plus, the game was in Tokyo, so if the two of you went together, you both would have to share a hotel room, and he’d make you spend the entire trip with him instead of exploring and possibly seeing Tabito, if you got the chance.

No, there was really only one choice. With an aunt who lived in the city and a deep-rooted desire to get a boyfriend, your best friend was the clear pick to take along with you to the game, and you knew before you even asked that she would agree to it. After all, what better way was there for you both to spend the two weeks of your last winter break before university?

As you had expected, she agreed enthusiastically and readily, texting you that her aunt was alright with you two staying at her place, as long as you didn’t mind that she’d probably be busy with work most of the time. Of course, this was more of a benefit than a drawback, so you forwarded the email containing Hiori’s invitation to her and immediately began the process of packing for your two week vacation.

Since you would be staying with a responsible adult — meaning your best friend’s aunt, not her herself — your parents didn’t mind that you were going on a mini-trip without them. Your father already knew about the game thanks to his subscription to the JFU’s magazine, and he was so exhilarated at the thought of you getting to attend it in person that you almost felt bad not telling him that he could’ve come, too. Then you imagined having to sleep in a twin bed while he snored in the one across from you and stopped feeling guilty entirely.

“Do you think it would be corny if I wore blue to the game?” you said when the day of the match dawned. You had made a mess of your suitcase trying to decide what you wanted to wear, and when you looked over at your best friend’s side of the room, you noticed that it was in a similar state.

“Maybe a little bit,” she said. “At least, if you went for an all-blue Smurf aesthetic. It would kind of make you look like a mascot or something.”

“I was thinking about that,” you said. “Ugh! This is so hard. Normally, I just wear one of Tabito’s jackets or extra jerseys at his games, so that I look all supportive and whatnot, but it’s kind of hard to do that when I haven’t even spoken to him in weeks and have zero clue what his Blue Lock jersey looks like.”

“That one coat you brought is his, right? You could wear that with a blue shirt underneath it so that it’s subtle but still clear which side you’re on,” she suggested. You closed your eyes, mentally putting the clothes on and deciding that it was a great outfit idea, giving off the exact effect you were aiming for.

“I knew ‘Hiori’ invited you for a reason,” you said. She chucked a pillow at you, fully aware that she was only even going to the game because you had been invited by both Bambi Osaka boys.

“I’ll be sure to thank him when I see him,” she said.

“Do you know what he looks like?” you said.

“No, but won’t his jersey say his name?” she reasoned.

“Touché,” you said. “Anyways, what are you going to wear?”

“It needs to be something casual but also cute, so if any of the players — the single ones, anyways — happen to look up at me, they are instantly smitten and ask me for my number once they win the game, after which we date until I’ve graduated college and they’ve made it in the big leagues, whereupon they will propose to me and we will get married in the most extravagant wedding the world has ever seen,” she said.

“Um,” you said, your mind working overtime to comprehend the run-on. “Sure. In that case, maybe you should go with the sweater dress you brought. It’s not blue, but you look really pretty in it, and if you put on a longer cardigan along with some tights, you should stay warm. Maybe your aunt has a blue scarf you can borrow? If you want to look spirited.”

“You’re a genius!” she said. 

“Thanks, I do my best,” you said before a silence lapsed between the two of you, both too busy getting ready to gossip, as you had been non-stop since you had arrived in Tokyo.

The ticket scanner definitely looked suspicious at the fact that both of you claimed to be named Y/N L/N, but there was nothing that she could do about it. After all, you both had unique invitations from two separate members of Blue Lock, so what did it matter what your names were? With a curt nod, she approved your tickets and described which way you had to go to get to your seats, though you were certain she was glaring at you as you walked in the direction she had indicated.

“Are you excited?” your best friend said, rubbing her hands together to warm them up. 

“I’m more excited to see Tabito again than anything. No matter how the game goes, I’m happy if he’s there,” you said.

“I can’t believe you just said that,” she said. “Pining has made you a changed woman. The Y/N I once knew would never say anything along those lines.”

“Oh, but you can plan your wedding and it’s perfectly normal?” you said, raising your eyebrows. She gave you a double-thumbs-up.

“That’s all hypothetical, so it’s not an issue,” she said. “On the other hand, you being all sappy about Karasu is reality.”

“You have a point,” you said. “My apologies. Moving on, are you excited?”

“Just to see if the players are good looking,” she said. “I don’t know that much about soccer.”

“It’s okay, I don’t, either,” you said.

“Your boyfriend is literally on the team?” she said. 

“Look, as long as someone on our side kicks the ball into the net, I’m happy,” you said. “If someone on the other side kicks the ball into the net, then I’m sad. That’s kind of the gist of it. Tabito and Hiori have tried explaining the finer details of the sport, but to be honest, it’s a bit beyond me.”

“Excuse me, but is anyone sitting with you two?” a bright voice said. You looked up to see a tall girl with cascading red hair and a brilliant grin pointing at the seat on your left with a questioning tilt to her head.

“Nope,” you said. Unfortunately, Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s school break didn’t align with the game, and she had regretfully told you over the phone that she would be unable to make it, so you and your best friend were on your own. “All yours!”

“Thanks!” she said. “My mother went to go sit with the other parents, and I was planning on going with her, but you two look closer to my age, so I was hoping it would be alright if I stayed here instead.”

“Believe me, I get it,” you said. “I’ve had to hang out with way too many parents at Tabito’s games. They’re nice and all, but most of the stuff they talk about is hardly relatable.”

“Exactly!” she said. “I can’t explain how happy I am to have found you two. I’m Hyoma Chigiri’s sister, by the way! According to the email we got, he’s number 4. Which players do you both know?”

“I’m number 6’s girlfriend,” you said, motioning down towards where the players were beginning to enter the field, getting some last-minute practice in before the game. “Tabito Karasu.”

You wished he would look over so you could wave at him, but he was utterly focused on his teammates and their warm up, so you contented yourself with admiring him from afar. It was clear to anyone that he was in his element, and a lump formed in your throat when you remembered that he had almost given this up. He had almost stayed back, and you could not even begin to fathom how much he would have regretted it if he had.

“I see him!” Chigiri said, shading her eyes with her hand so she didn’t have to narrow them against the sun. “My brother’s right over by where he is.”

Her brother was almost identical to her, a lean boy with flowing hair and a pointed face, and even if she hadn’t pointed him out, you would’ve made the connection.

“He looks just like you,” your best friend said, vocalizing what you had been thinking.

“We get that a lot,” Chigiri said. “What about you? Who are you with?”

“Technically, I’m not with anyone,” your best friend said. “The thing is, both Karasu and number 16, Yo Hiori, invited Y/N, so I just took her extra — what the fuck.”

“Is everything okay?” you said. Both you and Chigiri shot her concerned looks, but she was too busy staring at the field with her jaw dropped to pick up on it. “Hello? What’s gotten into you?”

“Y/N L/N,” she said. “Why is your boyfriend talking to that — that — that creature? Why is that thing even on the field in the first place?”

“Number 9?” Chigiri said. “Do you know him?”

True to her word, Tabito was speaking animatedly to player number 9, who according to his jersey was named Otoya. He was a slender and clearly handsome boy, his pale hair streaked through with green and his features distinctly sharp despite the distance. For some reason, there was something familiar about his description, and it was only when you noticed that your best friend was all but seething that the conversation came back to you.

“Are you serious?” you said. “That Otoya dude is the theater guy?”

“Deadly serious,” she snapped. “What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be off ruining innocent moviegoers’ experiences?”

“Playing soccer, I’d expect,” you said. “It looks like he’s starting for the Blue Lock 11, too. He must be good — I mean, even Hiori is just a substitute, and he’s crazy talented, so their starting lineup must be nothing short of spectacular.”

The two teams got into position as the clock was set up, and a hush fell over the stadium as the ball was brought onto the field for the kickoff. Unexpectedly, Chigiri grabbed your hand, clutching it so tightly that your circulation was impaired, and when you glanced over at her, you saw that her shoulders were tense.

“Hyoma tore his ACL recently,” she murmured. “He never said it aloud, but I think he’s wanted to quit soccer ever since. This is the first time he’s starting in a game since before he was injured. I’m worried it’ll happen again.”

You rubbed soothing circles against her wrist. “He’ll be alright. I don’t think they would put him in if it was a health risk. Plus, they have substitutes, and I’m sure he’s much more in-tune with his body now, so the second he feels something off, he’ll probably ask to be put out.”

Chigiri dabbed at her face. “Thanks. You’re right. This is an exciting game! I shouldn’t bring down the mood. Let’s get ready to cheer our lungs out!”

The referee blew the whistle, and then the match was on. You could hardly keep up with the players’ movements, so fast was it all; this was a level of skill that even you could recognize was far above anything you had ever seen. Every single player on the pitch was at least on Tabito and Hiori’s level, if not above it. Unlike Bambi Osaka, where Tabito was the captain of the team and often had to play doubly as aggressively because of that, he blended right into the mix of talents that was this motley collection of high school forwards. You could tell even from so far away that this thrilled him instead of grating on his nerves; he wasn’t the kind of person who craved the spotlight, after all. If anything, it was something he shied away from, preferring to strike at his opponent’s weak points from the dark, and it was only here, with the rest of the Blue Lock 11, that he could finally play how he preferred.

When the first goal on Blue Lock’s side was scored, by the tall, pale-haired number 7, you, your best friend, and Chigiri shot to your feet, screaming and clapping as loud as you could. Your enthusiasm, which was a stark contrast to everyone else’s quiet confusion, sparked a tidal wave. The entire stadium resounded with a roar of approval as the number 7 — Nagi — crashed to the ground before raising his fist, getting tackled by his teammates directly afterwards in celebration. 

“That was amazing!” your best friend said as everyone settled for the restart. “I never realized that soccer could be so exciting to watch.”

“That guy is skilled,” you agreed. “So is everyone else. Including that Otoya—”

“Don’t even mention him!” she said. “Nagi’s the one who scored, so stick to praising him!”

“Hyoma’s doing so well!” Chigiri said, her cheeks pink from the cold and round from her grin. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was never hurt at all!”

“Honestly, this is way more intense than I expected,” your best friend said, hugging herself tightly. “I really hope they manage to win.”

“They will,” you said. “I’m confident of that.”

Maybe the Blue Lock 11 were the underdogs, but something told you that they were going to win. There was just this fire to them, a heat and a hatred that emanated off of only their side of the field. The docile U-20 boys, who were so dependent on the efforts of defender Aiku and midfielder Sae, could never hope to compete with that overwhelming energy, which was so potent that the bleachers themselves were washed in it.

That was why you weren’t even surprised when number 10, Rin, scored another goal right before half-time, ending the first half with a lead for Blue Lock. You knew for a fact that your voice would be hoarse the next day from how much you were shouting, but based on your best friend’s and Chigiri’s faces, you figured you were in good company and didn’t even take any measures to lessen the severity of the consequence.

As the players began to move towards their respective locker rooms, Chigiri stood up and began to wave her hands frantically.

“Hyoma! Over here!” she called out. Her brother paused in the middle of drinking from his water bottle, whipping around, his face turning the same shade as his hair when he noticed his sister, who pulled out her phone and took a picture of him. “He noticed me! Ah, hello, Hyoma! You’re doing awesome!”

Tabito and Otoya walked past where the younger Chigiri was frozen in place, and before they could vanish into the locker room and out of your sight, you cupped your hands around your mouth.

“Tabito!” you said. He stopped in his tracks before twisting back to face you, his face breaking into such a wide grin when he saw you that it was a wonder his face did not ache from it. He raised his hand in greeting, and you did the same, so relieved to see him again that you thought you might vomit from the giddiness.

Beside you, your best friend stood, drawing herself to her full height. Then, before you could stop her, she jabbed her finger towards Otoya, who had remained at Karasu’s side when he had stopped to greet you. Otoya turned his head this way and that before pointing at himself hesitantly. Your best friend nodded and then stuck up her middle finger at him, causing Tabito to burst into a fit of laughter, his shoulders shaking as he dragged the helpless Otoya away from where he was suddenly rooted to the ground in perplexity.

“That’s what he gets,” she said with satisfaction, sitting back down now that she had accomplished her mission.

“He probably has no idea who you are,” you said, giggling to yourself, finding great entertainment in the one-sided feud she had with Otoya, who appeared to be a great friend of Tabito’s. “Also, you described him horribly back then. He’s really pretty good-looking, and the hair is nowhere near as bad as you made it sound.”

“I’m telling Karasu you said that,” she said. “If I was him, I’d be offended! My beloved girlfriend finds a guy who appears to be fresh out of the swamp attractive? That would really make me insecure.”

“I don’t find him attractive, I just said that he’s good looking. It’s objective,” you said. “And fresh out of the swamp? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

She glared at you. “No way. He owes me the price of the ticket he made me waste, but since he obviously isn’t going to pay me back, I’m going to make as much fun of him as possible.”

“You do that,” you said, judging that there was no arguing with her. “Chigiri, do you want any snacks? I’m going to head to the concession stands while there’s a break.”

“Could you get me some fries? I’ll send you the money,” she said.

“As long as you save my seat,” you said. 

“Of course! Go quickly, I’m sure the lines are going to be long. There’s a lot of people here,” she said.

“Good idea,” you said, racing off and cutting through the crowds swarming the many concession stands so that you could get some fries for her, candy for your best friend, and chips for yourself.

The second half was even more exciting than the first, though you hadn’t previously thought that that was possible. A boy named Shidou, who had something like a current crackling through him, joined the U-20s as their striker, and in quick succession, he managed to not only tie up the score but actually get a lead, thereby undoing all of the work that Nagi and Rin had put in. To make things worse, right after Shidou’s first goal, Hyoma Chigiri collapsed, earning a gasp from his sister as she shoved a fistful of fries in her mouth. Simultaneously, one of their defenders, the number 3, stumbled before slumping over entirely

“It looks like a cramp,” you reassured Chigiri as one of the other players helped her brother stretch out his leg and then stand. “And I think Niko must’ve sprained his ankle during that earlier play. They’re going to have to put in alternates, but it’s not serious. Both of them just need some rest and they’ll be okay.”

“If you say so,” she said, biting her lip.

“No way, is that Reo Mikage?” your best friend said, her eyes wide as a tall, well-built boy took Niko’s place on the field. He had purple hair tied back in a messy ponytail, and a desperate sort of anger simmered beneath his serene exterior. You squinted and found she was right — the name Reo was indeed written above the large number 14 on his back.

“Like the corporate heir?” you said. Everyone who was anyone knew about the Mikages, but what business did the son have playing soccer? Then again, you supposed even the wealthiest people in the world had to have hobbies. Maybe soccer was just what filled the void for him. You supposed you couldn’t really comment either way.

“I’m sure of it!” your best friend said. “Oh, man, Y/N, he’s even more gorgeous in person…do you think Karasu knows him? Can I get an introduction? He’s so dreamy and perfect and amazing and unreal!”

“I can ask. I’m sure they’re at least acquainted, considering they’re playing on the same team — wait! Look, it’s Hiori! Oh my goodness, it’s Hiori! Yay, yay, Hiori! You’ve got this!” you squealed, pointing at him insistently. He was the one going in for Chigiri, and though he seemed solemn, you knew he must be nothing less than agitated at the moment. You willed him to glance up at you, and whether it was divine intervention or just a coincidence, he happened to shift towards your direction and thus made direct eye contact with you.

Immediately, any gloominess dropped from his shoulders, and you showed him your fingers, which were crossed for luck. He mimicked the gesture before running out to the field, where Otoya patted him on the back in greeting.

“Somebody save that poor, innocent boy,” your best friend said as the game began again.

“Hiori? From what?” you said.

“From being corrupted and turned into a bad-mannered asshole by Otoya,” she said.

“Fair enough,” you said before your jaw dropped as Reo Mikage perfectly mimicked Aiku’s signature defensive move, stopping Shidou from scoring yet again. “Woah. Reo’s rich and a soccer genius? I thought you were full of bullshit earlier, but you actually might be onto something.”

“Exactly,” your best friend said with a smitten sigh. “What a man.”

Despite Reo’s prowess and the goalie’s unorthodox methods, they were ultimately unable to stop Shidou from making that second goal. As the U-20 boys celebrated and the referee called for the ball to be retrieved, Blue Lock’s number 11, Isagi, stomped over to the sideline where their coach was sitting.

“They look like they’re arguing,” Chigiri said. “Do you think everything is alright?”

You weren’t sure when or how you had become the designated soccer expert, but for some reason, both Chigiri and your best friend looked at you expectantly, like you knew what the hell Isagi was pressed about. 

“Maybe he’s mad about his cooler?” you said.

“Huh?” your best friend said.

“Never mind,” you said. “Uh, if I had to guess, he’s probably either asking the coach to give them a new strategy or calling for their substitute to be put in. Shidou and Sae have backed them into a corner, and if they don’t switch things up soon, they’re going to lose.”

“Looks like Karasu and Hiori taught you more than you realized,” your best friend said as Isagi jogged back to the field and the referee whistled to call for a pause to the game. One of the benched Blue Lock members, their number 13, stood up, and you actually shivered when he did. He made every single other player look like a gentle kitten in comparison to his hulking presence, even those towering monsters like Shidou and Aiku. There was no doubt about it; this was a beast amongst men, his fangs bared as he stormed onto the field, and the only thing you could not understand was why he had not been playing from the start.

“That guy is scary,” you said.

“Scary hot,” my best friend said.

“Moving on from Reo already?” you said. “This is why you’ll never have a boyfriend. Too fickle.”

“Listen, I have to keep my options open! Not everyone is lucky enough to have someone who’s good-looking, talented, and has been obsessed with them for years,” she said, elbowing you in the side with a smirk. You rolled your eyes, though you could not help but look down at Tabito when she said that. “What if I get rejected by Reo? I need to have another option, or else I’m fresh out of luck.”

“Looks like he’s replacing Otoya,” you said. “What’s his name? Barou? I’m interested to see how he does.”

“He’s getting rid of that wannabe bog monster? Even better! He’s quickly shooting up in my rankings,” my best friend said.

“Wannabe — okay, I’ll just be happy for you,” you said. “Though his hair isn’t so green as to deserve this much slander…”

“Thanks,” she said, ignoring the rest of what you had said.

“I hope they can make a comeback,” Chigiri stressed. “It’ll crush Hyoma if they lose.”

“No matter what happens now, he should be proud of how he did in the match,” you said. “Pass that message along when you see him, please. There’s no way he’s not going to get scouted by some seriously great clubs in the future.”

“You’re really kind,” Chigiri said, leaning her head on your shoulder with a sniffle. “I hope that Hyoma and your boyfriend stay on the same team for a while. Watching games is so much more fun with you.”

“Thanks! You as well. But speaking of being on the same team…” You whipped out your phone during the lull of the match, pulling up Yukimiya’s girlfriend’s contact and typing out a quick text.

‘are you watching the game??’

She responded almost immediately. ‘i convinced my parents to let me skip school so i could lol. i’m so stressed out right now!! karasu is playing super well btw.’

‘so is yukimiya!!’

‘thx!! omg also i saw you and your best friend on the screen HAHA.’

The last text was startling, to say the least. Nudging your best friend, you showed her the message, after which she took out her own phone, flipped on the camera, and checked her appearance in it.

‘no way. when??’

‘YES it was right after nagi scored in the first half. you two + the redhead were the ones who started the cheering, so they focused on you guys at first!! dw you all looked rlly pretty. as usual <3’

‘ohhh that makes sense. and tyyyy but you’re the pretty one here!!’

‘STOP you are the sweetest. also look at this LMAO they’re already making edits of you guys!!’

‘WHAT?!?!?!’

She sent you a link, which you opened with trepidation, beckoning Chigiri and your best friend over. Turning up the volume, you held up your phone as an edit of the three of you at various points in the match began to play. You were equally impressed and horrified at the speed with which the editors had gotten to work, but you couldn’t even be upset — whether it was the song or the clips they had chosen, the video made you all look magnificent. You saved it to your folder and then put your phone away, vowing to go through the comments later.

Mere minutes after you all tuned back into the flow of the game, Barou somehow pulled off a near-miraculous sliding shot, slamming the ball into the goal and once again tying back the score. This time, nobody was uncertain about what to do; every single person was on their feet, whooping as Barou tore off his jersey and tossed it in the air, flexing his arms and raising his chin as Tabito wrapped an arm around his neck, Nagi jumped on his back, and Isagi clapped him on the shoulder.

“Wow,” your best friend said.

“Wow is right! That was an incredible play. Barou is in another realm entirely!” you said, your palms stinging from how hard you were slapping them together. Your rudimentary soccer knowledge was apparently sufficient enough for you to keep up with the game, though just barely.

“Oh, I don’t know enough about soccer to be in awe of his goal,” she said. “I’m talking about those wow muscles of his. I bet he could carry me with one arm…”

“Ew, nasty,” you said, smacking her, fully aware of where her thoughts had just gone.

“Come on, you know it’s true!” she protested.

“I have a boyfriend. I’m not allowed to answer that,” you said.

“But you’re allowed to say that Otoya is good-looking?” she said.

“That was just me being nice!” you said. 

“I sense favoritism,” she said. “And not even the good kind, because for some reason, you’re favoring the worst guy in the bunch! Since Karasu isn’t around to be disappointed in you, I’ll do it on his behalf.”

“Shut up,” you said half-heartedly. “I liked you better when you were in love with Reo.”

“Believe me, I still am,” she said. “He’s not the kind of person you get over easily.”

“Ah, and remind me of how many times you’ve spoken to him?”

“That’s not the point!”

The match was decided when Sae and Rin — who were supposedly brothers, according to the guys Chigiri had overheard while she was heading to the trash can — got into a fight for dominance over the ball. Somehow, it managed to end up in exactly the spot where Isagi was waiting, and without taking a moment to think, he drew his leg back. At the very last second of the game’s overtime, he sent it streaking into the net.

“They did it!” Chigiri shrieked, tackling you and your best friend in a hug. 

“They did!” you shrieked back, equally as overwhelmed. 

“I can’t believe it!” your best friend said. “They really pulled it off!”

With that one-goal lead, Blue Lock had managed it. They had won the game against the U-20s, thereby cementing their place in the world of soccer for good. Those whispered hopes that Tabito had shared with you, his dreams of being an athlete and playing the sport he loved…they were as you had always assured him: inevitabilities instead of impossibilities. 

After all, you would say to him, over and over until you were sure he believed you. Do you think I would spend so long hating someone if they were mediocre? You can do whatever you turn your mind to. Whether it’s winning a soccer game or managing a company or getting the girl you like, your success is a guarantee.

The Blue Lock boys were ushered back to their facility after the game, so you didn’t get a chance to congratulate Tabito, but even being able to wave at him had lifted your spirits immensely, so you didn’t feel like you had wasted the trip.

In fact, you had a new pastime to occupy yourself with: namely, watching edits of yourself and liking all of the comments hyping you up. There were many of both, and when you weren’t listening to your best friend rambling about her favorite Blue Lock boy of the hour — Barou and Reo were definitely the ones she brought up the most, but Nagi and Isagi were mentioned a fair bit, too — you spent your hours on social media, sending the best edits to the group chat that you and your best friend had created with Yukimiya’s girlfriend and the elder Chigiri.

A couple of days after the game, you and your best friend were lounging in her aunt’s living room when you got a call from a number you had not seen on your phone in ages. Springing to your feet, you answered it immediately.

“Tabito? I thought they took your phone in Blue Lock?” you said.

“Hi, Y/N. Yes, they did, but we just got our stuff back and are on the buses back to the city. We’re on break for the next two weeks! Are you still in Tokyo?” he said.

“Yes! I’m here for about that amount of time — for all of winter break,” you said.

“Perfect. Some of the guys have plans to meet up in Shibuya tomorrow, but I don’t mind canceling—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, an idea formulating in your mind. “Are Barou, Nagi, Isagi, and Reo Mikage included when you say ‘some of the guys?’”

“Uh, I think Reo’s going to be there, but not any of the others. Why?” he said quizzically. Your best friend gave you a puzzled look, obviously wondering why you had just listed off her top Blue Lock crushes while on the phone with your boyfriend.

“Is it okay if we come, too?” you said. Tabito hummed uncertainly.

“Er, I don’t know…it’s not that I don’t want you to or that they’d mind or anything! In fact, they’d probably be delighted if you showed up. Rather, it’s that a few of them are a little bit odd, and you’d probably not enjoy yourself very much if you came,” he said.

“On the contrary, I think we would enjoy ourselves a great deal. Some of us more than others, naturally, but as long as you’re there, I’ll have fun, and as for my plus one…let’s just say that she could probably listen to a speech about the drying of cement, as long as it was Reo giving it,” you said.

“I see what’s happening here,” he said with a snort. “Okay, I got it. I’ll ask them and let you know what they say, alright?”

“If they say no, then tell them you can’t go and come hang out with me,” you instructed him. “I want to be with you tomorrow. I’ve missed you for far too long.”

“Will do. I miss you more.”

The line went abruptly dead, ostensibly from a lack of signal on his part, but now that you knew you were going to see him the next day either way, you just tossed the useless device aside and grinned devilishly at your best friend.

“What was that all about?” she said.

“Just go ahead and tell me you love me,” you said.

“I love you?” she said.

“And I love you,” you said. “So much that I’m making my boyfriend take us along on his group date with his soccer group — where none other than the man himself, Reo Mikage, will be present.”

About an hour or so later, Tabito texted you in the affirmative, sending you the address of the cafe where they were planning on meeting up at and giving you a rough estimate of the time they’d all be there. You and your best friend stayed up late that night, picking out your outfits — well, mostly hers, you were at the point in your relationship where you were positive that Tabito would find you pretty even in a trash bag, so you weren’t anywhere near worried about your own clothing — and planning what she’d say to sweep Reo off of his feet. Once you were done with that, you got in your pajamas and watched romantic comedies to get yourselves in ‘the zone’ and be completely prepared for the day to come, which might have qualified as one of the most important in her life. 

You were the first ones at the cafe the next morning, so you took the liberty of choosing the largest table you could find and setting your things down before looking up their menu online. Your best friend, who was the one that had convinced you to be so obsessively punctual for fear of making a bad first impression on Reo, did the same, though she left two seats in between you and herself.

“Tell Karasu to sit next to you, and then have him get Reo to sit in between himself and me,” she said to you.

“Yup, I know the plan,” you said.

“Good,” she said. “Have you picked what you’re ordering? Since no one else is here yet, I can go in and grab stuff for both of us.”

“Yeah, I want this, and this,” you said, pointing at the exact menu items so that there was no room for misinterpretation.

“Mm, looks good,” she said. “Eek, I think there’s a line.”

“It’s peak brunch time,” you said. “We’re lucky to have gotten a table at all, let alone one so big. Just leave your sweater on your chair so no one else takes it. Unless you want me to go in instead?”

“Nope, I don’t want to look like a friendless loser if Reo gets here before you come back or the others show up,” she said.

“You should hurry up and join the queue before it gets any worse, then,” you said. “It would suck if you were stuck waiting and Reo left before you could even meet him.”

“I’m going!” she said, speeding into the cafe, the glass door clanging shut behind her. You laughed softly at how easy she was to rile up, resting your chin in your hands and regarding the bustling scenery of the street with adoration. Tokyo was different from home, but you didn’t mind the change. It was fun, anyways, coming up with backstories for the people who walked past, inquiring into their lives from the snippets you were shown with the curiosity of a squirrel.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” a light, playful voice said, distracting you from your thoughts. The speaker was a boy in a dark jacket, with headphones slung around his neck and a beanie pulled low over his hair, though a few stubborn strands poked out anyways — grayish-white strands, in specific, which were cut through by brilliant green. You swore under your breath. How had you not realized that he would be here as well? You could only hope that Reo would distract your best friend well enough that she would not flip out over Otoya’s presence

“You’re Otoya, right?” you said. At the mention of his name, he grinned and slid into the seat designated for Tabito, leaning his elbow on the table and batting his eyelashes at you.

“That’s me. How did you know? I’m certain we’ve not met before, because I’d remember a lady as pretty as yourself,” he said. 

“You played in the match against the U-20s,” you said.

“You watched that?” he said. “I was pretty great, wasn’t I?”

“I don’t seem to remember you ever scoring,” you said thoughtfully. “And weren’t you subbed out? Ah, but yes, I was actually in the audience that day.”

Otoya wilted. “Oh. Were you rooting for the U-20s?”

“No, I was on Blue Lock’s side,” you said.

“Hold on, are you one of the guy’s sisters?” he said, stroking his chin and inspecting you. “Probably not Chigiri’s, but maybe Barou’s? I think he mentioned having younger sisters at one point. But I hope not, he’d definitely kill me for talking to you. Speaking of which, what are you even doing around here? Wanna go somewhere a bit nicer together?”

“I’m waiting for my boyfriend,” you said.

“Boyfriend?” Otoya said, face growing unnaturally pale. He inched his chair away from you. “Who’s your boyfriend?”

Before you could respond, a hand covered your eyes, blacking out your vision. “Guess who?”

“Tabito!” you said, standing up, yanking his hand away from you and kicking your chair out of the way so you could hug him. He was already waiting for you, pulling you to his chest immediately, burying his nose in your hair as he did when he was particularly tense or had been missing you.

“That’s correct. Gold star for Y/N,” he said. 

Though it had been a while, now that you were back in his embrace, it felt like no time at all had passed. That was how it was between you and him, a product of the many years you both had known one another before ever dating. Tabito was as much your friend as he was your boyfriend, a confidante and a rival and a companion and a lover all wrapped into one package. There could not be secrets nor distance between the two of you, not when you both had been studying one another’s complexities since before you had even understood what it meant to pay such special attention to another person.

“Sit next to me,” you said, tugging on his coat.

“Sure thing,” he said. “Dude, move over.”

Otoya scrambled to his feet, taking the seat on Tabito’s other side and eyeing you warily, his cheeks flushed a light pink — no doubt due to that brand of humiliation which was borne from trying to get with one’s friend’s girlfriend.

“You’re Y/N?” he said.

“That’s me. Has Tabito mentioned my name or something?” you said. When he realized you weren’t going to rat him out, Otoya relaxed and pretended to gag.

“All of the time. I thought you were his celebrity crush or idol, the way he talked about you! I couldn’t believe you were real when he waved at you during the game. You were sitting a bit too far away for me to get a good look at you, but you waved back, so I had no choice but to believe him,” he said. You recognized that this was his attempt at an apology, and, finding no merit in anything but acceptance, you shrugged.

“I wasn’t that crazy,” Tabito said.

“I don’t know. Otoya doesn’t seem like the lying type,” you said. Otoya let out a sigh of relief, catching your eye and mouthing thank you when Tabito gave you an irritated look.

“He totally is! Don’t believe a word out of this asshole’s mouth, he’s full of shit!” he said.

“So that must be why you’re friends, then?” you said. Otoya let out a choked laugh, and Tabito gave you such a kicked-puppy look that you could not help but lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. “Just joking. Who else is coming?”

“Well, you already know about Reo, but besides him, Tokimitsu said he’d come, Aryu, and Yuki,” Tabito said, counting off each name on his fingers.

“Yuki? Like Yukimiya? You two are friends now?” you said, already planning double dates with Yukimiya and his girlfriend in your head.

“We were in Blue Lock together. That kind of experience can bond anyone,” Tabito said.

“This guy really hated Yuki at first, though,” Otoya said, jabbing his thumb towards Tabito, who scowled. “So fucking funny. Yuki would just be standing there, and he’d go crazy, talking about how ‘one centimeter isn’t a big deal’ and how Yuki was ‘just an average, mediocre guy.’”

“You can stop talking now,” Tabito said.

“But all’s well that ends well, right? Now Yuki and Karasu are great pals. He never did explain what his problem was at the start, however. I’ve always wondered,” Otoya said, in a tone that clearly suggested he was fishing for an elaboration from you. 

“I can’t believe you’re telling on me! And to my girlfriend of all people!” Tabito said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Why does Tabito not like Yuki? It’s a funny story, really,” you began.

“One we do not need to go over,” Tabito said. Now that the misunderstanding was well beyond cleared up, that fight right before you two had gotten together was a point of great embarrassment for Tabito, who still could not quite believe that he had behaved so irrationally.

“What don’t we need to go over?” It was another newcomer, but one who you knew — Yukimiya himself, who beamed when he saw you. “Oh, Y/N! Karasu mentioned you were going to be here, but to be quite frank with you, I sort of forgot. How have you been?”

“Can’t complain. What about you?” you said. “Great job in the game against the U-20s, by the way.”

“Thanks!” he said, sitting down across from you. “I’m in the same boat. It’s nice to be on a break. I actually slept in for the first time in forever, and I got to use my own skin products instead of the crap Blue Lock gave us.”

“I’m happy for you,” you said. “You all deserve a break. It’s obvious you’ve been working really hard.”

“Pardon, madam!” You hardly had the time to react before a spindly man with flowing black hair and dark, painted fingernails was crouching beside you. “I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but I just — I have to acknowledge glam when it’s so obviously in front of me.”

“What?” you said.

“Here he goes,” Otoya said, steepling his fingers in anticipation.

“It’s just…I was aware that Karasu was bringing his girlfriend and her best friend to this little meeting of ours, but I didn’t know that one of you would turn out to be the most glam individual I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in ages! Please, tell me you’re the best friend,” he said.

“She’s the girlfriend, Aryu, so leave her alone,” Tabito said. Aryu pressed the back of his hand against his forehead.

“In another life, my dear,” he said, fluttering his fingers at you.

“No?” Tabito said. “In no other life! She’s mine in every one, so piss off!”

“Uh, thanks for the compliment. It’s nice to meet you, Aryu,” you said awkwardly. Otoya and Yukimiya did nothing to dissipate the tension, both of them exchanging looks and giggling.

“Sorry about him,” a stocky boy with huge, panicked eyes said, taking the chair beside where Aryu was still muttering to himself about a ‘grand love affair’ that would ‘shock the world with its glam potential.’ “You’re the girl from the edits, aren’t you? Y/N L/N? I’m Tokimitsu.”

“How do you know her full, official, government name?” Tabito said, arching his eyebrows. Tokimitsu shook his head so rapidly you thought his neck might snap or something from the speed of it.

“No, no, it’s not like that, Karasu! She’s just famous at the moment!” he said.

Tabito’s eyes flicked towards you for confirmation. You rubbed the back of your neck, beginning to explain for the benefit of the entire table.

“Right when Nagi scored, the three of us — my best friend, Chigiri, and I — were the only ones cheering, so the cameras focused on us,” you said. “After that, they would periodically show us throughout the match, and people have been making edits of those clips. At first, we were just the unnamed Blue Lock fans, but I think I liked one too many comments calling me hot, because now everyone knows who we all are…”

“Some of the edits are really good,” Tokimitsu agreed. “They’re all over my dashboard. People have even started shipping you guys with the players! Right now, the most popular pairings are you with Karasu—”

“Good,” Tabito said, sticking his nose in the air. You pinched him on the bicep, finding his uncharacteristic possessiveness as endearing as it was unnecessary.

“—and your best friend with Otoya,” Tokimitsu continued.

“Huh?” Otoya said.

“The clip of her giving you the middle finger right before halftime is super popular,” Tokimitsu said. “People have actually taken screenshots and made matching profile pictures. It’s a whole movement.”

“Huh?” Otoya said. “How am I supposed to flirt with girls if everyone thinks I’m taken by some psycho who hates me for no reason? Where can I file a complaint? This needs to be stopped at once!”

“It’s not for no reason, exactly,” you said.

“There’s a legitimate explanation?” Tabito said.

“Legitimate is a stretch, but there is an explanation,” you said. “You know her. She wouldn’t hate someone without having at least some kind of logic to it.”

A shiny black limousine pulled up in front of the cafe, and the back doors opened to reveal Reo Mikage, who stepped out and thanked the driver before walking over to join the rest of you. You were about to tell him to take the seat in between Tabito and your best friend, but then you realized that there was a massive problem: somebody was already sitting there. Namely, Otoya, who was busily swiping through his phone and reporting every account that he came across which had either him or your best friend as a profile picture.

“My apologies for the tardiness,” Reo said. His mere voice had a particular cadence to it that spoke to his wealth and upbringing, and down to the slightest, his mannerisms were genteel and refined. “I had to sneak out from a meeting to come here.”

“Sneaking out from a meeting to come to another meeting? You’re a busy guy, Reo!” Aryu said, evidently completely over his earlier heartbreak. “What a glam schedule.”

“That’s not the word I’d use for it,” Reo said, running a hand through his hair, which fell loosely around his face now that he wasn’t playing soccer. “Anyways, I hope I didn’t keep you all waiting for too long.”

“No, we haven’t gotten started yet,” Tabito said.

“We’ve been discussing the edits people made of Y/N and her friends!” Tokimitsu said. Reo looked over at you and smiled politely.

“I’ve seen a few of them. It’s an impressive marketing strategy on the JFU’s part — by sprinkling in clips of you three, they managed to appeal to a broader audience. Now, people who ordinarily never would have watched the game are watching reruns, therefore increasing their revenue tenfold,” he said, offering you his hand to shake. “I’m Reo Mikage.”

“Y/N L/N,” you said, taking it as professionally as you could, all the while wondering what was holding your best friend up. She ought to be here as soon as possible, or else she really might lose her chance. 

Like she had read your mind, the glass door of the cafe swung open, and your best friend strolled out, two plastic cups balanced in one hand and two scones in a napkin held in the other. 

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, thankfully oblivious to the members of the meeting you were crashing. “The barista got confused and made my drink iced. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, but she insisted on dumping it and remaking it properly, free of charge. Apparently, she’s new or something, so she’s still in that phase where she isn’t entirely jaded by the public yet.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “Tabito. Grab my drink before she—!”

“You!” your best friend said, pointing at Otoya, who groaned in defeat and buried his face in his hands. Your drink slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground, spilling out onto the concrete, though she took no notice of it, putting the rest of the goods on the table and glaring at Otoya.

“My drink,” you said mournfully.

“I’ll go get you a new one,” Tabito said, making like he was going to stand. You grabbed onto his arm and shook your head.

“No, don’t leave me here,” you said.

“What? Why not?” he said. You pointed at the infamous duo, both of whom looked about ready to blow up, and then you looped your arms around his neck, peeking over his shoulder at the pair.

“If they get in a fight, I’ll be stuck in the crossfire,” you said. “You have to stay here and defend me if it comes to that. Quick, take the scones while she’s distracted. I’m going to eat them as payback for her dropping my drink.”

He did as you commanded. “Here you go.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“You owe me ten dollars!” your best friend said.

“What? No, I don’t. We’ve never even met, so why would I owe you any money at all?” Otoya said. “Wait. We haven’t met, right? Or did we go on a date at some point? If so, I’m sorry that it didn’t work out, but you have to understand that things just end up like that sometimes. I’m not going to compensate you for that.”

“Jeez, Otoya,” Yukimiya said with a chuckle. “You’re kind of horrible, man. How many dates have you been on, if you don’t even remember whether you were with her at some point?”

“Do you really want the answer to that?” Otoya said. Yukimiya made a face.

“You were definitely on a date,” your best friend said. “I wasn’t, though. In fact, I was just innocently trying to watch a movie with my cousins, when somebody decided that they would just go ahead and make out with their date, right in front of my face, for the entire one hour and forty-seven minutes of the film!”

“Who’s somebody?” Tokimitsu whispered.

“Probably Otoya,” Aryu whispered back.

“Oh, I do remember you!” Otoya said, snapping his fingers. “You came and yelled at me after the movie, too, right? That was funny.”

“Okay, guys, how about we all relax and get to the point of this meeting instead of squabbling over past grievances?” Reo interrupted before the argument could grow anymore heated. Satisfied that things were now under control, you ceased your cowering behind Tabito, though you did make sure to shove the last of the scones in your mouth before your best friend could ask where they had disappeared to.

“Fine by me,” Otoya said when your best friend did not respond. “Yo, you gonna sit down or what?”

“You guys can have your meeting without us, since I’m quite sure it’s not anything that we’ll be able to meaningfully contribute to. In the meantime, she and I will go and get a replacement drink for me,” you said.

As soon as the two of you were inside and out of earshot of the boys, she let out a wail. “I completely made an awful first impression on Reo Mikage!”

“I can’t lie, you definitely did,” you said. “But at least it was entertaining for the rest of us. Cheer up! There’s still Barou, Nagi, and Isagi, right? You have an entire list for a reason. Reo might be a wash, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up entirely.”

“You’re right, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. If only that lettuce-headed Otoya weren’t here! Things would’ve gone perfectly, but ruining my life must be a particular hobby of his,” she said.

“You might be better off if you pretend he’s not around,” you said. “How about this? We’ll get Tabito to set you up on a date with one of the others on your roster, and I’ll personally ensure that Otoya stays far, far away.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Here, I’ll pay for your drink, since I spilled it the first time.”

“Yeah, I was going to make you do that even if you didn’t offer.”

Upon your return outside, drinks and additional scones in hand, you were met with a larger group than you had left. Even more of the Blue Lock boys had appeared, and all of them were talking animatedly with one another.

“You’re Hyoma!” you said, taking a sip from your still-hot beverage, waving at your new friend’s little brother. “I sat with your sister at the game.”

“She’s mentioned you a couple of times. Said you thought I did well in the game,” Chigiri said, scratching the bridge of his nose shyly. “I really appreciate it. You’re Karasu’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes! Thank you for knowing that!” Tabito said, snatching your drink from you and taking a swig, bursting into a coughing fit as it scalded his throat.

“That’s what you get,” you said, taking your drink back, blowing on it to cool it before taking the tiniest sip. “Alright, I know Isagi and Chigiri, but who’s the third one?”

“That’s Bachira,” Tabito said. “He’s a fascinating guy.”

“You know what we should do? Since all of us are together for the first time outside of Blue Lock, we should hang out!” Bachira said, rocking on his heels. 

“That’s good with me. Our meeting ended up not being that productive,” Yukimiya said.

“Mostly due to certain individuals,” Reo agreed, looking pointedly at Otoya.

“Me? Blame her!” Otoya said, pointing at your best friend, who was busy exchanging hair care tips with Aryu instead of putting the moves on Isagi, as you thought she might’ve. 

“Reo’s too much of a glam gentleman to blame a lady for anything,” Aryu said.

“What he said,” Reo agreed. “Though, again, I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“Where should we go?” Tokimitsu said. “I’m okay with anything.”

“Wait, what about Nagi? Isn’t he with you guys?” Reo said to Isagi, who hummed.

“He was supposed to meet up with us, but he overslept, and then he saw an arcade on the way, so he stopped in there,” Isagi said.

“Reo, I bet you have Nagi’s location on your phone at all times, right?” Bachira said. Reo nodded. “Then I say we use that to go and find him!”

“An arcade day does sound like a blast,” Yukimiya said.

“Thanks for the invite, but I think I’m going to stay back and spend the day with Y/N,” Tabito said.

“She can come, too!” Bachira said. “On one condition: she has to be my partner for rhyming ping-pong.”

“That’s a fair deal in my books,” you said. Ordinarily, you would have agreed with Tabito — a calm date with him was far more appealing than the prospect of going to an arcade with a bunch of soccer players — but above all else, you were a loyal friend, and you could hardly abandon your best friend when Reo, Nagi, and Isagi would all be present at this gathering.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel bad for me. I don’t mind missing out on hanging with these idiots. I see enough of them in Blue Lock as it is,” Tabito said.

“I’m offended,” Otoya said dryly. “What happened to bros before hoes?”

“Considering she’s his girlfriend and he’s liked her for going on six years now, I’d say she’s probably a bit more than a ‘hoe,’” Yukimiya said.

“I don’t feel bad for you, Tabito, so you can put that out of your mind. I haven’t gone to an arcade or played rhyming ping-pong in ages. It’ll be fun, I think,” you said, kicking him under the table and angling your chin towards Reo and Isagi ever-so-slightly. His mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization.

“Then I guess we’re off to the arcade,” he said. “Lead the way, Reo.”

“Follow me,” Reo said, holding up his phone, which displayed the elusive Nagi’s location on the screen.

You all must’ve appeared an odd group to any onlookers, but that didn’t stop any of you from enjoying yourselves as you weaved through the streets of Shibuya. You walked with Tabito, your hand intertwined with his like usual, both of you pointing out window displays you found appealing or ridiculous. Chigiri and Bachira hotly debated which arcade games were the best, Isagi doing his best to mediate while Otoya egged both of them on in turn. Reo and Yukimiya continued their discussion on the economics of Blue Lock from the earlier meeting, and Aryu described every single step he took in the shower to your best friend and Tokimitsu, both of whom were enthralled by the topic. All in all, it was a blend which should not have worked but somehow did, and more than simply working, it really excelled.

“There you are, pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” Tabito cackled as everyone entered the arcade and saw Nagi sitting at one of the booths, controls in his hands and a small frown on his face as he gunned down his virtual enemies. Letting go of you, Tabito wrestled Nagi into a headlock, messing with his hair as Nagi whined in protest. “You’re going to lose all of your friends, you jerk!”

“Caught red-handed,” Reo said with a sigh. “Classic Nagi.”

“Now that we’ve found him, it’s time to party!” Bachira said, pumping his fist in the air. “Tokimitsu, let’s go play darts!”

“Okay!” Tokimitsu said.

“I’m heading over to the claw machine,” your best friend said. “Wanna come, Y/N?”

“Sure, I’ll cheer you on,” you said. “I’m pretty bad at it myself, so I won’t waste my money on my own attempts.”

Everyone dispersed throughout the arcade. Tabito, Otoya, and Aryu followed you and your best friend towards the claw machine, much to your best friend’s disgust — you were certain that she had been hoping Isagi, Nagi, or Reo would come with you, but all three of them were preoccupied with the darts competition Bachira had set up, leaving her to side-eye Otoya and stick to conversing only with Aryu. For his part, Aryu was happy to oblige her, as sticking close to your best friend had the double effect of cooling Tabito’s ire from earlier as well as alleviating the hostility between her and Otoya.

“This has got to be rigged!” your best friend said when her third attempt at trying to nab a panda plushie proved unsuccessful. On each attempt, right before she was able to drop the plushie into the chute, the claw would give out and it would fall back into the pile, leaving her out of money and patience.

“Move out of the way,” Otoya said. “Let me show you how the masters get it done.”

“You call yourself a claw-machine master?” you said. “What, do you practice or something?”

Otoya entered a token into the machine and shouldered past your fuming best friend, grabbing the controls with casual ease. “Girls love it when you win stuffed animals for them. Check out my flow!”

“I never put you down as someone with this type of functional glam,” Aryu said, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “I sincerely repent for the underestimation!”

“You really are a master,” you breathed, doing the same, watching in astonishment as Otoya expertly maneuvered the plushie towards the chute.

“Stop shaking the machine, idiots, you’ll make him mess up,” Tabito said, pulling you and Aryu away from the glass by the back of your collars and holding you there until Otoya had retrieved his prize.

“Bam,” Otoya said, tossing the panda at your best friend. “Ninja skills.”

It hit her in the face and fell to the ground; with a withering glare, she stooped over and tucked it under her arm before stomping away.

“You better not find yourself anywhere near the dartboards! I’m warning you, I have a bad aim, so look out!” she threatened before disappearing, presumably to join in on Bachira’s tournament.

“Isn’t that just a self-insult?” Otoya said. “Sucking at darts is even worse than sucking at the claw machine, don’t you think?”

“She means she’ll hit you with the dart and you can’t blame her for it because she warned you, you dunce,” Tabito said, face-palming. “Come on, Y/N, let’s go see how the tournament’s going.”

The tournament seemed to have split into two sections. On the right side, Reo, Tokimitsu, Yukimiya, and your best friend were tossing darts at the board with precision and care, tallying up their scores and congratulating one another after each round. On the left, Nagi was standing in front of the board with his arms spread and his back to Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri, who were gleefully taking turns throwing darts in his direction, talking about how this was his ‘punishment’ for standing them up.

“Who’s winning?” you said, right as Bachira sent a dart shooting towards the back of Nagi’s head. Nagi exhaled heavily.

“Sorry,” he repeated for the thousandth time.

“Do you think it’s even possible for someone to win in a game like that?” Tabito said. “Better to ask those guys.”

“I think Yuki is up right now,” Reo said in response to your unasked question. “Although Tokimitsu’s catching up. It’s super close. Could be anyone’s game.”

“Now that you’re here, Y/N, let’s go play rhyming ping-pong!” Bachira said.

“Who will we play against, though?” you said.

“Nagi, for one,” Bachira said.

“I don’t want to,” Nagi said. Bachira raised another dart, causing Nagi’s sleepy frown to deepen. “Okay, I will.”

“Then Tabito can be your teammate,” you said. 

“You’re challenging me?” Tabito said. “You’re going to regret that. Prepare to lose.”

“Bachira and I won’t let you get even a point, right, Bachira?” you said. 

“That’s right!” Bachira said, high-fiving you and charging forwards as the entire group headed over to the ping-pong table. Picking out four paddles from the rack, he handed one each to you, Tabito, and Nagi, keeping the last for himself and joining you on your side of the table.

“If we beat you, then you have to take me to the aquarium for our next date!” you said, brandishing your paddle at Tabito.

“Fine, but if we beat you, then you have to join me during my workouts for the rest of the break!” he said, tossing the ball up and down in the air.

“We have to crush them,” you said to Bachira. “If I have to workout with him, I’ll probably die.”

“Got it,” Bachira said, rolling his shoulders. “Ready when you are.”

“Nagi, get your head in the game,” Tabito said to his reluctant partner. “We need to win this. The aquarium is so creepy and unromantic! What kind of first date back from Blue Lock would that be? I need your talents, prodigy.”

“Okay,” Nagi said. “Are we starting?”

“Yeah, you can serve. Do you know how to play?” Tabito said.

“Not really,” he said.

“Whenever you hit the ball, you have to say a word that the other team can rhyme to, and when they return the serve, they have to come up with that rhyme and say it,” Bachira said. “Pretty easy, right?”

“It’ll be a simple win,” you said. “I’m first in the class for Modern Literature, so I know a lot of words.”

“Don’t underestimate Nagi,” Reo said. “He may look like little more than a typical idiot slacker, but he actually came second in our year without studying at all.”

“I’m so torn,” your best friend said. “Who do I root for?”

“Why’s it a question? Wouldn’t you want to root for your best friend?” Chigiri said. 

“You wouldn’t get it,” she said.

“Hmph,” Chigiri said. “Whatever.”

“Okay, are both sides ready?” Yukimiya said. He had been chosen to referee, mostly because he was the most impartial. All of you nodded, and he whistled. “Rhyming ping-pong, begin! Your serve, Nagi!”

“Um,” Nagi said, tossing the ball in the air and tapping it with his paddle. “Orange?”

Yukimiya whistled again. “Out! Y/N and Bachira are the winners!”

“What was that?” Tabito screeched.

“He must’ve gotten nervous in the face of Bachira and I’s combined prowess,” you said, tossing your hair.

“Not really. I just didn’t wanna play,” Nagi said. “There’s some good aquariums in Tokyo, Karasu. You can probably have a fun date there.”

“You’re the worst,” Tabito said. “I’m taking Chigiri next time. I bet he wouldn’t have picked orange as his first word!”

“I would’ve gone with bat,” Chigiri said.

“Ooh, and then I would’ve said cat!” you said. Bachira had vanished alongside Isagi and Reo, giving some excuse about karaoke before running out the door after them, leaving you standing alone across from the furious Tabito and lethargic Nagi.

“Maybe we should’ve teamed up,” Chigiri said to you. You winked and gave him a thumbs-up in assent.

“Can we go see what Reo and the others are doing?” Nagi said, limp in another one of Tabito’s headlocks, completely unbothered by the vulnerable position that he was being held in. 

“Bachira said they were going for karaoke,” you said. “Maybe we should find Otoya and Aryu before joining them, though.”

“How about just Aryu?” your best friend suggested, though her ideas went unheard.

“I’ll text them,” Yukimiya said.

“No need,” Otoya said, peeking his head into the door. “We’ve been looking for you guys for a while.”

“Such unglam conduct, disappearing like that,” Aryu said in disappointment.

“Sorry!” Tokimitsu yelped. 

“Since we’re all here now, we should be good to head to karaoke,” Yukimiya said.

“Karasu and I are going to do a duet,” Otoya informed everyone as you all followed the signs for the karaoke section of the building.

“Hell yeah,” Tabito snickered. “We’ll knock everyone’s socks off. They’re not ready.”

“What song?” Tokimitsu said.

“Something with a lot of belting,” Otoya said. 

“Please don’t,” your best friend said. “I didn’t bring ear plugs, and I do value my hearing.”

“Wait a second,” you said. “Hey, Tabito, Yukimiya — isn’t that Aiku from the U-20 squad?”

“Huh?” Tabito said.

“It is!” Yukimiya said. “He’s talking to Reo, Isagi, and Bachira, too. That’s unexpected.”

“Looks like the whole gang’s here, in fact,” Tabito said, cracking his knuckles and motioning towards the rest of the U-20 squad, who were glowering at the boys beside you as they approached.

“A fight?” Nagi said.

“Could be,” Otoya said, striking a ninja-pose that caused your best friend to dissolve into a fit of laughter, which he ignored completely. “I’m stoked.”

“Need backup, Isagi?” Yukimiya said, his hands in his pockets and a genial smile on his face. “We’ve got you.”

“Ah, but don’t expect anything from me!” you said, flashing them all a peace sign. “I’ll cheer for you from the corner, though.”

“A girl? Hello—” Aiku began, though he was immediately interrupted by Tabito.

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” he said. 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Aiku said. 

“What are you all doing here?” one of the U-20 boys, whose name you couldn’t recall, said.

“Likely the same thing as you,” Chigiri said.

“But in a more glam way, naturally,” Aryu added.

“The fuck? Don’t think I won’t mess you up, freak!” the U-20 player said.

“Freak?” Aryu said. “Say that again, I dare you!”

“How about we settle this over a game of bowling?” Aiku suggested. “That way, none of us get in trouble with our coaches for accidentally injuring ourselves.”

“Fine by us,” Yukimiya said. “We’ll beat you either way.”

“I’d prefer it if I didn’t have to watch you all pummel each other,” you agreed.

“Same,” your best friend said. “Though I wouldn’t mind too much if you roughed Otoya up a bit…”

“Hey!” the boy in question said.

“The ladies have spoken,” Aiku said. “Bowling it is!”

“Are you going to play?” Tabito asked you as you all trekked towards the bowling alley. 

“Nah, this is a feud between Blue Lock and the U-20 players. I’m just an onlooker,” you said.

“Aw, but you’re the bowling champion! We’d win for sure if we had you on our side,” he said. Going bowling had been a common event for both of your friend groups all throughout high school, so he had been privy to many a round in which you absolutely annihilated everyone else, demolishing him and his friends and yours alike with a careful, needle-like precision.

“You’re not half-bad yourself. Plus, who knows how good the others are? It’ll be alright. Go beat those U-20 boys again, and then let’s get out of here,” you said.

“Just us? Or do you mean everyone?” he said.

“Just us,” you said. “I’ve been downright helpful all day, so no one can begrudge me for being a little bit selfish and sneaking off with you. I’ll only do it if you win, though.”

That was a lie, but Tabito was the type who performed better under pressure. The thought that he might miss out on a date with you — especially one not at the aquarium — would be more than enough to drive him to bowling success.

“Y/N!” your best friend hissed to you as Tabito and the others went to check in at the counter. “Check it out! It’s Shoei Barou!”

“He’s bowling all by himself? Huh, that’s a little startling. The more you know, I guess,” you said. Privately, you had believed the intimidating Barou would have had similarly intimidating habits, like powerlifting, or beating up thugs in alleyways, or activities more along those lines, but of course, everyone had layers, so maybe you shouldn’t have assumed.

“It’s kind of cute, if I’m being honest,” she said. “Like, oh my gosh, you’re a friendless loner! I need you so badly.”

“There’s a lid for every pot,” you said, not at all seeing the appeal in that kind of person but having decided long ago that you were more glad than anything that you and she didn’t have the same taste in men — you had likely avoided many awkward situations in that way. “Well, what’s your plan? You’ve got Reo, Barou, Nagi, and Isagi all in one room. Who’re you going to go for?” 

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons. That should help us come to a proper conclusion,” she said.

“Got it. Cons: Reo finds you super immature for fighting with Otoya, Nagi doesn’t seem to care about you one way or another, Isagi is much more interested in hanging out with Bachira and Chigiri than trying to talk to you, and you haven’t even met Barou yet,” you said. She gulped.

“And, uh, the pros?” she said. You frowned.

“Uh…at least Nagi’s opinion of you isn’t bad?” you said. “And you haven’t had the chance to make a terrible impression on Barou yet.”

“That’s it?” she said.

“Sorry,” you said. “But kind of. It’s not looking good.”

“What do I do, then?” she said. “Is it time for me to give up on my dreams? Am I destined to be single forever? Will the closest I get to a wedding be in the form of attending yours as a bridesmaid?”

“Don’t be pessimistic,” you said. “There’s always Aiku. He seems like he’d take anything on legs for a date or two.”

In unison, you glanced over at Aiku. He, and Otoya for that matter, were talking to a pair of girls, who were hooked on their every word, irises sparkling as they listened to both boys flirt. You and your best friend exchanged looks.

“I’d rather die alone,” she said. 

“That kind of relationship wouldn’t last,” you affirmed. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask Tabito if he can introduce you to Barou. He’s likely your best bet at this point.”

“You might be right about that,” she said, following after you as you made your way towards where the ones not actively bowling were hanging out.

This, unfortunately, was a fatal mistake. The route took you past Otoya and Aiku, and, more importantly, the girls they were chatting with. One of them happened to catch a glimpse of you both, and she immediately gasped, shoving past Otoya to tap the two of you on our shoulders.

“You’re the girls from the edits!” she said. You winced at the murderous expressions on Aiku’s and Otoya’s faces.

“Yeah, we are,” you said.

“No way!” the other girl said to your best friend. “You and your boyfriend are my sister and her boyfriend’s profile pictures!”

“Boyfriend?” your best friend said. “I’m single, though?”

“The guy you gave the middle finger to at the Blue Lock vs U-20 match! Aren’t you two dating?” she said.

“No!” your best friend and Otoya said at the same time.

“Wait, I didn’t recognize you because of the hat, but you’re the confused player that she flipped off!” the girl said to Otoya. “Can we get a picture of the two of you together? We’re guaranteed to go viral if we can post something like that!”

“Oh, boy,” you said. “Aiku, you seem like a nice guy, so I’m going to advise you to run right about now.”

“What?” he said. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” you said, darting off before you were caught up in the fallout that would accompany the request, not slowing your pace until you were safely over by Tabito and the rest, far away from the brewing situation.

“I think we’re going to do it!” Tabito said when he saw that you were once again at his side. “As long as Nagi is more motivated to bowl than he was to play rhyming ping-pong.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, that’s great,” you said. “Let’s go.”

“Right now?” he said.

“Right now,” you said.

“Did something happen?” he said.

“This bowling alley is about to turn into a war zone,” you said, gesturing over to where Otoya and your best friend were standing stiffly beside one another, the girl angling her phone to take as many photos of them as possible.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “See you guys later!”

“What? You’re already leaving?” Chigiri said.

“Yup, it was great to meet you all! Good luck in Blue Lock. Hope to see you again!” you said, sprinting towards the doors with Tabito, ducking out right as your best friend went off on a tirade about how Otoya needed to stay a ‘minimum of two bodies’ away from her at all times lest he ‘infect her with the green hair disease.’ “Phew.”

“We made it,” Tabito said. “Now what?”

“Now we do whatever we want,” you said, reaching up and kissing him softly. “No more worrying about everyone else. Let’s do something for just the two of us.”

“Finally,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you left the arcade behind. “I’ve been missing you for so long, and when I finally got you back, I had to share you with all of my dumbass teammates. Not fair.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “It’s like Otoya said — bros before hoes.”

“Otoya’s a jackass,” he said. 

“True,” you said. “But enough about him. I want to hear about everything you did in Blue Lock, so that when you have to go back, I can imagine what you might be up to at any given moment and feel a little better.”

“Gross,” he said.

“You act as though you hate it, but I knew deep down you like it,” you said. He wrinkled his nose, though it did little to hide his prominent blush.

“Nah,” he said, drawing you impossibly closer to his side, as much to be affectionate as to prevent you from further exposure to the redness of his face. “I just like you.”

“Oh?” you said. “That’s good, because I like you, too.”

“I already knew that,” he said.

“Never mind,” you said. “If that’s the case, then I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said. You smiled, playing with his fingers as the two of you walked around the city with no destination in mind, no end goal but to enjoy each other’s company.

“No, I don’t.”

[butterflybuckethat]

Stranger Places

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

I'm back at it again trying to combat writer's block. Hope you like it!

Notes: Carmen Berzatto x Fem!Reader; Carmy finds you drunk in the bathroom of The Bear. (1.8k words)

Warnings: Slow burn, toxic ex-boyfriends, drunkenness

Chef Carmen Berzatto designed the restroom of The Bear as a complement to the main dining room, extending its warm minimalism to the wide sink basin, pale wood shelves and simple fixtures, all tied together by a signature scent of jasmine and oud. Not that you noticed any of this, your head being in the toilet and all. 

“Cousin!” Richie was forming a plan, which always meant bad news for Carmy. A line started forming outside the bathroom. “I told you we should’ve put in two.”

“Would you shut the fuck up, Richard?” Today was not the day. It had barely been a week since the deep freeze incident, and Carmy still felt shaky at the helm. They were half a turn behind.

“Fuck you, Carmen. How am I the only one taking this seriously?” 

“We need to focus.”

“No, we need to get whoever’s puking in the bathroom up outta there.” Carmy took a deep breath, forcing his gaze off the tickets. Richie continued, “if people think our food makes people sick...” His eyes blew wide, head bobbing, as if this were a foregone conclusion. “Okay?” 

Carmen looked at him, practically flinching when Sydney yelled “hands.” Lately, he had seriously been considering the thought that he was a bad person. He knew that Sydney was capable—in fact, he would proudly describe her as brilliant—but, after she took over for him that night, everyone else saw it too. And yet, he was reluctant to hand her his position. 

“This is big picture shit, Carm.” Richie said, softer this time, using Sugar’s words against him: some things are more important. 

“Syd,” he could barely look at her. She moved into his spot, as if it were the easiest thing in the entire world, and began arranging the tickets, yelling commands. Carmy balled his hands, pushing the air out of his lungs. He didn’t resent her, he just hated himself. “Do we still have those water guns?”

“Fuck,” you spat into the toilet. Everything was spinning. This was a new low, touching your forehead to a public toilet just to feel the cold porcelain, and you had no idea how you got here. You were drinking wine! You never got drunk from wine. At least, not like this. You hadn’t been this obliterated since college, the night Mark joined Sigma and introduced you to jungle juice. You retched again, just thinking about it. 

You tried to stand, digging your nails into the ridges between the subway tiles. But you stumbled, knocking into little decorative objects so meticulously placed on a shelf, and sunk back the floor. “Fuck.” You wanted to cry, but everything was so out of control. You tried focusing your sight on the now headless ceramic bear by your stockinged foot when there was an urgent knock on the door. 

“Hello?” It came in all muffled.

“Mark?” you responded; voice hoarse. The doorknob jiggled.

“Are you okay? Can you unlock—” the voice was drowned out by cheers in the rest of the restaurant.

“What?”

“Can you unlock the door?” he repeated louder. You crawled over on your hands and knees and turned the lock. The knob turned and the door cracked open.

“Wait!” You pushed it shut. He tried to open the door again but you leaned against it, hastily smoothing your hair and wiping the makeup from underneath your eyes. Mark had seen you worse but that was when you were still together. It’s different now. “Okay,” you slurred, scooting out of the way and letting him in. You looked up. “You’re not Mark.”

It was a hassle getting you into the office. Carmy had you by the waist, dodging the squirt guns and confetti that came with the impromptu surprise, while you stumbled and swayed in the opposite direction.

“I’ll be right back,” he reassured once he got you settled in a chair with a big bottle Pellegrino and an uneven slice of bread. Richie and the sommelier, Ernesto, were waiting for him outside.

“Nice,” Richie pointed to the puke that rubbed off from your dress onto his shirt.

“Whatever,” Carmy responded, deciding it wasn’t worth it to mention that Richie’s suit was half soaked and covered in glitter. “What’s up Ernesto?”

He looked to Richie first which made Carmen’s palms sweat. “They only ordered two bottles.” Ernesto spoke quietly, wringing a towel in his hands.

“They?” Carmy asked, patting the kid on the shoulder to try and ease his nerves.

“She was sitting with some guy.”

“Who is this guy?”

“How should I fucking know? It’s a woman’s name on the reservation.” Carmen wondered, not for the first time, if Richie was capable of speaking at a reasonable volume.

“I don’t know, ask him?”

“He left.” Ernesto added.

“Don’t you have a receipt, credit card, something?” 

“He ran.” Richie was practically giddy. “Look at this.” He carefully unwrapped two empty wine glasses from a linen napkin.

“What’s this CSI?” Carmy scoffed.

“Just look,” Richie lifted the first glass up to the light. “What do you see?”

“There’s a lipstick st—”

“There’s a lipstick stain, right.” Carmy was very quickly losing patience. “The girl clearly drank from this glass.”

“Can you get to the fucking point, please?”

“Look at his,” he held the second one up. “Notice anything?”

He squinted, searching for something to find, “No.”

“Exactly.” The glass was pristine, not even a smudge. “Thanks, Ernesto.” Richie dismissed.

“Wait,” Carmen stopped him. “You poured him a glass?”

“Both of them, yeah.”

 “And you kept pouring hers?”

 “No, he did all the pouring.”

 You felt like shit; your head was pounding. The seltzer had settled your stomach a bit but you couldn’t bring yourself to touch the bread. And, to make matters worse, you were surrounded by strangers, with puke on your favorite dress, and where the fuck was Mark?

 “How are you feeling?”

 You peeked through your fingers. Carmen. “Horrible. How do I look?” You began to stand, tentatively.

He let out a little laugh.

“Jesus, you’re laughing?” you asked, incredulous.

“No, of course not.” But he had this fucking smile on his face.

“What the fuck?” You did a little shimmy, tugging down your dress, and flipped your hair which did little more than make you woozy. “How about now?” you asked after steadying yourself on his desk.

His eyes raked over you. You watched them land on your thighs, the curve of your waist, your clavicle. “You look great.” 

You cleared your throat, hoping to mask the shiver that ran down your spine. “Great,” you said. You took a sip of the Pellegrino, swished it around your mouth and headed for the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” Carmen outstretched his tattooed arms, blocking your path. Your eyes widened, suddenly understanding what a compromising situation you seem to have gotten yourself in. But he backed away immediately, taking a few steps out of your way. “I-I just meant…are you sure you’re feeling well enough?”

 “I’m here with someone,” you explained, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah…”

How was he supposed to tell you? “I think you should sit,” he started.

“Did something happen to Mark?” Your eyes widened, “is he sick too?” 

Carmy felt an unexpected wave of rage. You were concerned for him? This fucking bastard “Mark?” “Please sit.”

He watched as you tugged the hem of your dress and sat primly. Carmy knelt in front of you, hands ghosting your calves. He was trying to be comforting which he had never really had to be before, being the youngest. He suddenly wished Sugar were around. “He left.”

“Left?” you repeated, crease forming between your brows.

“Ditched.” Carmy braced himself for your emotional fallout. But all that came was a bitter laugh.

“What a fucking asshole.”

He searched your face, looking for some kind of explanation. “First date?”

“That would be less embarrassing. Ex-boyfriend.” You leaned back, causing the leather to exhale.

“Did he do that often? Get you drunk and leave you with the bill?” Carmen didn’t mean for that to come out so bitter. He barely understood why he was getting so worked up over this. 

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry. Obviously, I’ll pay. I think my purse…” You just looked so helpless. You got a raw deal and Carmen just wanted to make sure you were okay. Big picture and all that. What kind of restaurant owner would he be if he just let shit like this happen at his place?

“No, that’s not- That’s not why I brought it up.” You looked at him. The color had returned to your cheeks, making your smudged makeup look less scary and more…hot. 

“Thank you,” you blushed. “I’ve caused you enough suffering, I’m sure. I should really get going.” There really wasn’t much he could offer you but he didn’t want you to leave.

“Are you hungry?”

Was this pathetic? To be letting the man whose restaurant you just violated cook you a grilled cheese? You had a distinct feeling you were engaging in behavior your mother warned you about.

“How do you want it cut?” Carmen asked, towel slung over his shoulder. 

“Triangles, please.”

“Excellent choice,” he mumbled. You couldn’t help but admire his broad shoulders and biceps that strained the material of his perfect white shirt. He set the plate in front of you. “So, what happened with you and the guy?”

“Asking the hard questions first, huh?” You grabbed half of the sandwich, licking your lips at the stretch of the cheese, and pushed the rest of it towards Carmen.

“It’s for you.”

“We can’t share?” He picked up the other half and took a bite, making you smile. But it was short lived, he pressed the question. “I don’t know. We dated.”

“How long?”

“Five years.” You shrugged, as if it were nothing. This was a practiced movement; one you’d perfected for a while now. 

“Oh.” Carmen put the sandwich down.

“It’s been two years,” you assured. “It’s not like— It’s not like I’m still in love with him or something.”

“Then why’d you meet up with him?” 

“What’s with the third degree?” You got down from where you were sitting on the counter. The Bear had long closed and you and Carmen were the only ones left in the kitchen. “You don’t even know me.”

“Your puke on my shirt feels pretty fucking personal.” His voice was soft, not a hint of anger or frustration. He looked tired all of a sudden, like he lost something.

“You don’t even know my name.” You spoke quietly and he inched closer, wanting to hear you. You could smell the candle, the jasmine and oud, faint on him.

“I know your name.”

“Yeah, what is it?” He was taller than you; not by much, but enough that you had to tilt you head to look him in the eyes. Bright blue.

“Milly.”

You were just staring at him, for a while, a mix of shock and confusion on your face. Did he do something wrong? “What did I say?” He asked, placing his palm on your waist.

“I should go.” You pulled away from him. Carmy wanted to pull you back but you were already halfway across the room. He could’ve kicked himself.

“I’m sorry,” he followed, watching you move things around the office. You were unsteady on your heels. Carmen rushed to help support you but you recoiled, like his touch burned. He apologized again. “Can I help you?”

“No, I got it.” You said, pulling your clutch out from behind a stack of bills.

“Can I at least take you home?” He offered, now standing on your far opposite.

“Uber.” You shook your phone. You weren’t unkind. He was a stranger after all, but he could’ve cried anyways. You made your way to the front of the restaurant, your Uber came quick. “Thanks for your help, Carmen. And the meal.” You pushed the door open, a burst of cold Chicago air cut through him.

“I’m sorry, Milly.”

“That’s not my name.” And you were gone.

Part II

[forest-hashira]

Butterflies

i have no chill so yes i'm back with a new fic a week after the last one. idk how or why i'm like this so don't ask. this is my second entry for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this one was geto + botanical gardens. this got away from me literally in the first sentence AHAHA.

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.8k | cw: gender neutral reader, first date, minor miscommunication, both suguru and reader are bashful as hell and have been crushing for a while, several types of bugs are mentioned towards the end, but i think that's everything!

When Suguru had invited you to visit the local botanical gardens with him, you’d accepted without much thought, assuming that all your other friends would be there, too. You’d all spent nearly every waking moment together since the weather had gotten warm enough and the days had gotten long enough to spend more time outside, so it seemed like a foregone conclusion that this was going to be another one of those days.

You were quite mistaken.

Suguru was standing alone outside the front gates waiting for you, and while he was usually the first person to arrive whenever you all got together, Shoko, Utahime, or Kento usually weren’t far behind and consistently arrived before you did, so you were a bit surprised.

“Is everyone else on their way?” you asked as you approached, one hand above your brows to block the sun from your eyes as you looked up at him; you’d forgotten your sunglasses, again, something Satoru teased you about constantly. Even with the small amount of shade your hand afforded you, you squinted a bit up at your friend. His hair was pulled fully up into a bun, a hairstyle he didn’t wear as frequently as he did when you were all in high school, but with a heatwave rolling through the area, you weren’t exactly surprised he wanted all that hair off his skin.

After a moment you realized the sun was creating a sort of halo around him. Like an angel, you thought to yourself. He’s certainly pretty enough to be one. The thought caught you off guard, and you hoped it wasn’t obvious that you’d grown flustered by your own thoughts; you didn’t need him finding out about the crush you’d been harboring on him since you were teenagers, especially when no one else was there to save you from yourself.

His brows pinched in confusion, and he cocked his head ever so slightly to the right. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“Satoru and Shoko and everyone,” you said, now feeling a bit confused yourself. “Are they just running late? Usually at least Kento is waiting with you by the time I show up.”

A look of understanding crossed his face then, and his face visibly reddened. “Ah,” he sighed, looking away from you and rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s uh. It’s just us, actually. Sorry, I thought you knew that when you accepted the invitation.” 

“...Oh,” you uttered intelligently, feeling your own face beginning to heat as well, and not just from the sun beating down on you. It never occurred to you that Suguru would want to spend any alone time with you, away from the group; not that you didn’t get along without everyone else – you definitely did, you were just usually around the rest of your friend group – but the occasion for one on one time hadn’t arisen since you’d been partnered for assignments in school.

“We don’t have to go in,” Suguru offered gently, meeting your gaze again. “We can pretend this never happened. Or we can see if anyone else wants to join, I know Satoru’s not doing anything today.” When all you did was blink dumbly up at him, he looked away again, staring down at his feet. “I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

That brought you back to yourself, and you shook your head vehemently. “No!” you burst out, then cringed at your own raised volume and squeaky voice. “I-I mean, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable. We can still go in. I looked this place up when you invited me, and I really want to see their pollinator sanctuary.”

Suguru’s shoulders dropped in relief at your words, and his small smile returned almost instantly. “I’d like that.”

As he turned and headed towards the gates, you followed barely a half step behind. You started to pull out your wallet as you drew closer to the ticket booth, but Suguru stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you. “I bought our tickets already.”

His words had your face burning yet again, and you looked away sheepishly. “Thanks.” You followed him up to the gates, pausing long enough for the gate attendant to scan the tickets Suguru had bought – he’d printed them out, so the employee didn’t have to try and scan his phone screen, which struck as so distinctly Suguru that it made your heart flutter, though you’d never admit that to another human being.

Tickets now scanned, the pair of you were free to explore the grounds at your own pace. Ever the planner, your friend led you over to the large standing map. “Do you want to start with the pollinators?” he asked. “Or would you rather save that for the grand finale?”

Taking a few moments to consider, you looked over the map; the grounds were bigger than you thought, and you knew with the sun beating down on you, it wouldn’t be long before you were tired of the heat and ready to go somewhere with cold drinks and air conditioning. “Let’s do that first,” you said after a bit. “I don’t wanna run the risk of missing them because they’re hiding from the heat.”

Suguru nodded easily in agreement with your words. “I think that sounds like a good idea,” he confirmed. When he reached up and started tracing a path on the map from the “YOU ARE HERE” sticker to the pollinator sanctuary, you couldn’t help but watch, his hand making the sections of the map look smaller than they actually were. 

“It looks like we need to go this way,” he said quietly, and though you couldn’t quite tell if he was speaking to you or just thinking aloud, his words were enough to bring you back to yourself. “The pollinators are near the back, but this section with the trees should be pretty shaded for the walk back. What do you think?”

He turned to face you then, head tilted ever so slightly as he waited to hear your answer, oblivious to the way you’d been ogling his hand. You blinked dumbly for a moment, processing his words as you did your best not to make a fool of yourself.

“That sounds good, yeah,” you agreed sheepishly. “This way, right?”

When he nodded, you turned and made your way down the path, Suguru at your side. He was right, the path he’d chosen was pretty well shaded from the sun, offering you a bit of relief as you walked. The pace you maintained was steady; you weren’t rushing by any means, but you were eager to see the pollinator sanctuary, so you were walking a little faster than you normally might have.

Birds chirped overhead, singing to each other as they hopped from branch to branch, and the sound made you smile; summer wasn’t necessarily your favorite of the seasons, but right now the pros were definitely outweighing the cons.

“Thank you,” the raven haired man said after a few minutes of comfortable silence, and you looked up at him in slight confusion.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come here with me,” he said simply. Then, looking a little bashful again, he added, “And for not freaking out on me when I told you it was just us after you got here.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I was happy to accept your invitation. And I’d never freak out on you for something like that, y’know. You’re easy to be around, and if nobody else is here it means I actually get to appreciate your presence.”

“You make a good point. Satoru does tend to demand to be the center of attention when we’re all together, doesn’t he?” A soft smile painted his lips as he spoke, and his words made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “He does.” 

Conversation was easy after that, talking about everything and nothing all at the same time, but it felt so good to talk with him; to spend time with him without anyone else around, something you rarely got to do, and never felt like you could suggest yourself until now. Now, though, you were sure you’d be spending a lot more one on one time with your companion.

“Oh, what was it that Satoru was trying to explain the other day? He kept comparing it to digi…mon…” you trailed off mid sentence as you stepped out from under the trees, completely forgetting what you’d been saying as you saw the pollinator sanctuary unfolding before you. Your steps slowed, and you looked around with wide eyes, taking in the sight of all the insects flitting between the brightly colored flowers: the honey bees climbing out of blooms covered in pollen; hummingbird moths hovering as they sipped before zipping to the next flower; bumblebees droning through the air; butterflies flitting from plant to plant.

Suguru slowed to keep pace beside you, and unbeknownst to you, he was looking at you far more intently than anything else in the garden. He paused for a moment, letting you walk a bit ahead of him as he admired you. As he watched, a few butterflies flew closer, dancing around your head as they came to investigate the scent of your shampoo. You stilled, though your eyes were wide as you tried to watch what was happening above you. One by one, about half a dozen butterflies landed in your hair, almost forming a crown around your head, making you look like some sort of nature spirit.

“You’re beautiful,” Suguru blurted out, and the sudden compliment startled you a bit. You turned back to face him quickly enough that all the butterflies went fluttering off again, now that they knew you were not, in fact, a flower.

“Huh?”

“You’re beautiful,” he repeated, though a bit more bashfully this time. “I’ve always thought that, y’know? I just didn’t want to make things weird between us by telling you that.” He closed the distance between you as he spoke, and he offered you a sheepish little smile. “I hope it’s okay that I’m telling you now, though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured back, smiling just as bashfully in return. “That’s more than okay. You’re beautiful, too, actually. I’ve always thought that.”

A small laugh bubbled out of Suguru at your words, and his expression grew impossibly more fond. “I’m glad we’re on the same page about that, then,” he mused. He was quiet for a moment then, his dark eyes contemplative, before he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

The touch surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. You felt your face burn a bit more as he pulled away, but your smile only brightened as you looked up at him.

He smiled back just as brightly, and as he spoke again, he took your hand and laced your fingers together gently. “Do you want to keep going?” “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by saradika-graphics

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Big Plans - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

cw: sex, angst

Let's proceed to the next stage.

The Day of Ash. Its conclusion's already foregone, and he has little patience for repetition. But this part is key.

For context's sake, it bears revisiting.

The scene's already been painted. If a courtroom were a stage, the gallery would be breathless for the denouement. Which will arrive, and in due course. As the High Priestess says: Patience is the companion of wisdom.

For now, picture this:

The banquet at the Last Drop, and Fissurefolk with crumbs clinging to their smiles. The songs, the stories, the slow-reeling hours.  The bundt cake had been served up in generous helpings, each portion with a dollop of sugar. Sweetness: too rich to taste of scarcity.

Too real to taste the bitter arsenic of disaster.

In the backroom, Sevika treated Silco to a different song. They'd swapped a stogie of potent brightleaf, each drag burning a sultry line from throat to belly. Silco had draped a stolen sheepskin pelt on the floorboards, and spread Sevika down upon it.  Her nails were in his back, and her tongue filled his mouth, and her sighs filled the air.

"Fuck me," she said. "Fuck me now."

He went into her, exquisitely slick depths parting for him, inch by inch. His vision blotted out to static, his ears ringing bells. Outside, the thunderstorm of boots and bodies gathered its charge.

That is how he recalls that final night.

Everything hung in perfect equilibrium. One side tilting toward delirium; the other, disaster.

They kissed and gasped and kissed again. His teeth closed around her bottom lip, piercing its fullness. He swallowed her sounds as they rocked together, slow and steady. Every second of pleasure counted. Every gasped cry and shivered moan were an offering. 

To gods unnamed; or to Zaun.

When you fuck and live, you fuck for them both.

His climax was a gut-shot—bang, bang, bang, nailed to completion. He collapsed against her, sobbing behind gritted teeth. Sevika's own climax was unending. Every small movement set off an aftershock that fluttered from her womb all the way to her eyelashes. By the end, they were gummed wetly together with tears.

From rawness of hurt and hope and whatever lay beneath.

After, they lay in a languid, sweat-sticky tangle. Their heavy breaths sawed through the dusty air. The stillness felt holy. As if they'd found some secret within themselves, and were listening to it resonate. Sevika nuzzled into the damp hairs curling over at his temple. Silco dropped a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, followed by a hard, deliberate rasp of stubbled cheekbone between her breasts. The burn glowed in his wake.

Even then, he'd liked to leave marks. Reminders of where she belonged. With him, and the future they'd seize. No takebacks; no middle ground. 

Glory or dust.

Sevika jittered out a sigh. "Sil?"

"Mmm?"

"When all this is over..." Her fingertips traced his hairline. "What d'you want to do?" 

"What?" he murmured, barely cogent. "Why think of that now?" 

"Just... something I'm tellin' myself. For motivation's sake."

"We're motivated."

"We are." She kissed him again: soft, sweet, uncertain. "Still. I wanna hear. You fought for this shit your entire life. Thought you might have plans for after."

"Visualizing, are we?"

"Well, yeah. Like, I see myself walking on the Bridge, without getting frisked. Without those degrading searchlights and the names they call us. You know what I mean, right?" 

"I do." Silco's jaw hardened. "Personally, I'd tear the Bridge down. Reroute everything so we aren't dependent on one mode of transit across the Pilt.  Our harbor still opens out to sea. Our trade could be redirected. We could do business with foreign merchants. I've no doubt there's a market for our wares across Runeterra. Places less sanctimonious and more eager to profit."

"What wares?"

"The gold and gems. But there's more to our domestic industry than the treasures below. You've seen the construction boom in Topside's residential sectors. All from our marble, our slate, our granite. Once Zaun's ours, we'd tap into that sector. No need for a bridge. Or the thieves squatting on the other end."

"See? You do have big plans!"

"Schematics. That's all."

"Helluva lot more than most of us got." Cupping his head in both hands, she sought his eyes. "What else?"

He rested his interlaced palms on her sternum, and his chin atop them.  "Reforms. Top to bottom. Law, infrastructure, security. Chaos without an axis devolves a society to madmen. But we won't survive as a monoculture, either. A diversified economy's the best path forward. We could open our borders to trade with merchants from across Valoran. Build the docks into proper berths, so we're dealing with international vessels on our terms, without them trying to get a foothold in our territory." His eyes slitted, drowsy yet speculative. "What we need is a haven for entrepreneurs and free thinkers alike."

"People who'll treat us as equals instead of animals?"

He grinned: a tiny bite of incisors into her skin. "Exactly. A whole world of profit's out there. We'll tap into it. Show the world that we're more than just gutter-trash."

"And here, I'd be satisfied with a plumbing system that doesn't freeze my tits off come winter."

"Copper piping—" he was warming to the subject— "is where the solution lies. We'll invest in citywide upgrades. A sewage network that leads to treatment plants outside of town. Lessens the runoff so the river fish are fit to eat year-round. We'd also start a sanitation corps. Their sole objective would be to rid the streets of refuse."

"Big plans. Real big." Her touch didn't falter, but he felt a shift in her voice. A sidestep more than a withdrawal. "What about... y'know. The kids?"

 A chill crept through Silco. Gently, he disentangled, easing himself upright. His bare arms roped around his knees. He let out a slow breath, measuring how much to reveal.

Then—

"More reforms. Loads of 'em. No more debts inherited from parent to child. Anyone in arrears would be offered financial advice, and legal recourse. Then there's the quality of education. Most sumpsnipes can barely scrawl their names. How's a nation meant to advance if its children can't count coin? Universal schooling is the least Zaun can provide. Medical centers that offer basic services. Soup kitchens with free meals. All of it must happen, if our folk are to succeed."

"Mighty generous. What's the catch?"

"No catch. Only stipulations." He met her eyes, aglow in the gloom. "These children have spent a lifetime dodging Topside boots. They should be given safe spaces, where they can explore their talents. Without the constant threat of those spaces being torn down, the way our orphanages were."

"Some of those little boot-dodgers could do with a kick, though."

"Maybe. But there's a difference between coddling and support."  His palm rolled open. An invisible blade balanced on either side: compromise and conviction. "The right to learn in safety is as necessary as the freedom to grow from mistakes. The kids would get their licks. But they'd also get a choice." His voice softened. "The rest would follow."

Sevika softened in turn. "Knew it."

"Knew what?"

"You're a big sap when it comes to kids."

"Quit taking the piss."

She shook her head. "Always knew you cared. Deep down. Otherwise, why go through with this at all?" Her palm squeezed his forearm; a caress bordering on worship. "It's gonna change, Sil. You'll change it. The kids'll have better than we ever did."

Her eyes met his. The compassion seared. Because of course she could see straight through him, to the gnashing fears hidden below. Same way he could see through her, to the long-dead hopes buried in her bones.

Like fossils: fragile but irrefutable.

They'd been told since birth they were inferior, and inferior beings must perish. Yet they'd survived. Doggedly, brutally, defiantly. And having done so, deserved a shot at more.

Tonight, they'd seize it. They'd turn the tables forever.

No fairness; only equity.

"After..." Sevika swallowed. "Y'think we'll have something more stable?"

"Stable?"

"Y'know. More than night-rallies, and smuggling and stabbing bootlickers in back alleys."

"Why? Got the itch to settle down?"

A flush stole across her cheeks. Her eyes cut away. "Nah. Just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

"Don't make me spell it out."

A few beats. Then realization sank home. The ice thawed; a smile crept across Silco's lips.

"Are you implying...?"

"What?" Sevika challenged, knowing exactly what was implied. The blush deepened, a charming mottle of deep rose. In a fistfight, she was seldom caught off-kilter. But intimacy always did it for her; abraded the roughness down to the girl she'd been: bruises on her knees and big dreams tucked close to her heart.

Like his stolen bergamots stuffed in her pockets.

"Say it, love," he goaded gently.

"Naw."

"Say it."

"Fuck off!"

"Say it, or I'll guess." He slid back down into the lovely warm circle of her arms. His head settled into the lovelier, warmer declivity between her breasts. He nuzzled, playfully. "Are you, by chance, expressing an interest in—don't be shy—sharing your bolthole?"

"Never... never said that." But she was shivering; a different thrill entirely. "Just wondering if I should start clearing out some drawers."

"Making room, hmm?"

"Place could do with a fixer-upper."

"My skillset does extend to home repairs."

She scoffed. "Being handy with a hammer's not a skillset." But her arms found their home around him, as he found his in the shelter of her. "We could split chores."

"Equitable distribution of labor?"

"Someone cooks, someone scrubs the dishes. Someone sets the table, someone brews the tea..."

"Better be me. Not sure I'd survive another mug of leaves-and-grit."

Her ribcage jerked; a peal of laughter that threatened to break into tears. Silco's own chest felt vaguely smothered. By emotion; by hope.

They'd seen enough of sorrow for a lifetime. Why not dream a little?

 "Let's see," he went on, kissing his way from one breast to the next. "The labor's divvied. But what about the living space? It'd need renovations. New plaster for the ceiling, so the cockroaches don't rain down from the cracks. New floorboards, too. Solid wood so the place stays dry. Nothing like this—" He rapped his knuckle against the nearest plank, eliciting a resounding echo of termite damage, "—so during our more, ah, exuberant endeavors, we don't drop down two stories and land right in old Josiah's stewpot."

This time, her laughter bubbled up without reserve. "Soundproof the walls, too. So the neighbors don't cuss us out every night."

"And morning."

"And evening."

"And afternoon."

"And—" Her laughter sank, husky; the kissing had become an openmouthed sampling, "—whenever we feel like it."

"There's the spirit."  He lapped the roseate bloom of one aureole, savoring her whimper. "What else? Oh. A balcony facing south, with geranium pots. Or a row of night-blooming jasmine. You could dry the petals, press them, crush them for sachets. Or better yet, grow your hair long and wind the flowers through it."

"Fucking sap. My hair's not fit for braids. Gets greasy five seconds after washing." The laughter ebbed. Her mood receded into something both sweeter and more pained. "Nothing like Nandi's."

"Nothing like Nandi," he agreed.

He felt it immediately: the full-bodied flinch, struggling and failing to disguise itself. But he understood. It wasn't envy; only memory. Loss was loss. There was no cure but time.

The question was how much to steal.

Taking her chin, he kissed her again. Kissed the burn to bed; the flame to smoke. He made love to her lips until they parted. Until that sweet pain ebbed, into the background, where it belonged. Her thighs shifted, enfolding his hips; her breath stirred on hungry hums. Each kiss tasting like a gift she couldn't give herself.

A gift he couldn't deny her.

She'd never be Nandi. Nor would she ever stop feeling her sister's absence. But he wasn't here, on the last night before the final charge, for a specter.  

He wanted what they had now, real and alive between them.

A second chance.

"Listen, love," he breathed, thumbing the wetness beneath her eyes. "No one will ever replace your sister. No one. But you are your own. And you're mine. And I swear to you—if tonight doesn't fuck us into the ground—we'll do everything we've planned. We'll fix up that bolthole. Fix up this whole damned city. And then we'll live our fucking lives."

"Sap," she said again.

"Not if it's true."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He held her gaze. "Do you want it?"

"Want what?"

"All of it. The balcony with geraniums. The jasmine in your hair. The new roof, and new walls. The new life." His stare deepened. "With me."

She bit her lip; the flush faded into resolve. "Yeah."

"So let's have it."

"With what coin, Sil?"

"I've got a cache of loose rubies in my mattress. You're welcome to pocket a few, as a down-payment. Hell, if it means selling all my loot in the lockbox, we'll do it. If we've got to wait fifteen years before we can afford even one seed of jasmine, we'll still do it." A sudden honesty creased the conversation, cutting through their banter. "Anything. Everything. As long as you're game."

For a moment, she looked at him, as if seeing beyond his words. Her pragmatism never failed, even when her temper veered off course. But it was as if his confession had opened a different door, and longing beckoned.

There were many avenues they'd never gone down. Places they'd both learned were dangerous: Tomorrow and Always; Safe and Sound; Nothing's lost and Anything's Possible.

Paths that weren't lies but far-off lights in the distance. Too far to cross on foot.

But now...

"Would everything," she whispered, "include the usual?"

"The usual?"

"I mean… d’you see yourself wanting a family?"

Silco fell still.

"An anklebiter, or two? The chance to do better for someone than anyone's ever done for us?"

The stillness deepened. Their stares locked. The silence looped into an eternal second. In that space, Bloody Sunday’s screams echoed and re-echoed.

"I...I don't know," Silco said at last. "Maybe not now. But... someday."

"Someday?"

"When Zaun is real. When this city stands on its own. When the future's set in stone, not a whisper in the wind." He smoothed the furrow between her brows, trying for levity. "Why? Don't tell me you've slipped your dose?"

"'Course not!" she snapped. "I take that crap everytime we go to bed!"

"But you've thought about the alternatives."

She chewed the corner of her lip, rolling the answer around. The dream was no longer dead in her eyes. It had transformed. "I think..."

"What?"

"Someday."

"Someday?"

"Zaun's gotta be real, first." She cupped his left cheekbone. The future pulled them down, into each other's grip. The scent of jasmine blooming from somewhere unseen. "And Zaun needs you, Sil. So after everything goes down... after things settle..."

"...there's more to look forward to." His face split on a smile. Contentment finding a home in their shadows. "Forward being the operative word."

"Damn straight."

He shut his eyes, drinking in the heat at the crook of her neck. The rest of him sank against her body. Down between her thighs, to that familiar dip that was wet and waiting for him. To a place that kept him warm, but one he couldn't lay claim to as a home. Not yet.

But someday. 

Yes.

And just like that, the revolution burned bright. On a peltstrewn-strewn pallet on the backroom floor, they began making their plans all over again.

"Marble stairs," he breathed, as he slid inside her. "Lapis-laid floors."

"Fucking bougie," she gasped, palms starfishing his hips. "I'd never set foot on 'em."

"I'd haul your arse inside by the ankles. Every day. With fresh jasmine twined in your hair..."

"Greasy fucking hair..."

"Beautiful hair." His head hung down, forehead touching hers. Her lashes fanned velvet over his cheek; her breaths grew short against his throat. "Shining and strong, and I swear—"

"Swear...?"

He rolled his hips, dragging himself over her sweet-spot, just the way she liked. Her belly quaked; her head tossed back on a cry.

"I swear it'll only be the start."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm." He thrust deeper, dizzy on her rising sobs. "Zaun's owed so much more. And we'll take it all. Everything."

"Everything," she groaned, arching up to take him fully. "Everything, fuck..."

"Like that?"

"Gods, Sil, don't fucking stop—"

Silco's spine tautened. His body had gone rigid, poised at breakage. Still he held himself steady, prolonging the moment as he did the promise.

Each syllable sinking deeper than a knife to the gut. The cuts would last a lifetime, but the scars would be worth it.

They'd last the distance when all else bled away.

Sevika shuddered; a tear slid over her temples, vanishing into the darkly clinging hair along her scalp. It was greasy, from hard hours of work, and the slew of harder nights leading to this. But it was beautiful, too, for how alive it was: how resilient she was.

How real she felt, falling apart beneath him. Keeping him tethered in all the places he was unraveling, too.

When she came down, she was laughing again. Laughing, and crying, both.

"Not the worst thing," she gasped, "a girl could hear before dying."

"Fuck that," he gritted, locking in for the home stretch. His nerves sang high; a keening pitch he chased the limit. "You'll die old. On—on feather pillows and cotton sheets. After a full life of scrapping, and the best bloody sleep you've. Ever. Had."

"And y-you...?"

"Me?"

"You'll be there?"

He caught her hand, kissing her rough knuckles. "No."

She gasped as he pinned her arms above her head. Sank his full weight down, till the burn between their bodies, blissful bright electricity, stole every doubt beyond the room.

Wiped everything beyond the moment.

"I'm not dying," he grunted, seconds from bursting, "until Zaun's come to life."

She shuddered. He surged. The finish struck like lightning.  Bright static spooling through his skull to ignite a fire in the blackness.

Revolution was like that: just another word for apocalypse, stripped of the terrors.  Not that they'd be spared the latter. Freedom always had a price. Always broke bones and bruised souls.

But the vows, in their shared gutter-tongue, were binding. Full of crude designs and raw hopes, but as real as that night.

Real as the scars.

[sparring-spirals]

OKAY. after some sleep. back on my bullshit lets go.

I think its so critical that F.C.G made that choice, that in their last moments they looked at their friends and felt that sense of purpose and calm. I think it is wildly meaningful of him to know what his last resort would be, what it would end in, and choose it willingly, buoyed by a sense of purpose and love.

I think it's pretty clear the options were bad and worse, and that F.C.G made a strategic call that they perhaps knew would hurt but really, truly believed was worth it, and that call probably did stop their friends from experiencing further losses. I think there is something uniquely beautiful into turning a thing of destruction- perhaps something F.C.G had always seen as a burden or a curse or a worry- into an expression of his love for his friends.

And I think F.C.G, constantly plagued by doubt, getting a sense of crystal clear surety. And F.C.G thinking to themself: they saved me, and now i can save them is.

deeply fucking important.

and also something that makes me. emotional 😭

That said i can still be mad at F.C.G, and I can still want to hunt down a robot afterlife just to grab his chassis and shake him a little. Self sacrifice plays always have a steeper cost than just the person making the sacrifice. Their purpose was never just to lay down their life for others, and I despise a world where F.C.G could think that and not have the thought soundly rebuffed by those that loved them. There was a danger in him, maybe, but there was danger in all of them! A party of running risks!

Its just v important to me that: I don't know how I feel about the idea of it being a foregone conclusion this would happen. That this was the only way it would have ended. F.C.G made a choice, in that moment, that he knew would change things. F.C.G made that choice.

After a campaign of doubt and flipping coins and wondering whether choosing destiny or altering fate was even- possible: F.C.G makes this choice, fueled by love and determination and understanding, and everything changes because of it.

You did it buddy. You did it.

im gonna kick your ass once i figure out how, though, F.C.G. ashton will probably help me.

[apuff]

Earlier on tumblr i saw another one of those memes comparing bullets, revenge, tbp, and danger days, essentially stating that the previous 3 are serious and about death in different ways, while danger days is fun japanese dance party. Now i understand where this is coming from but i really don't think it's an accurate interpretation.

My main point with this is that the first 3 are legitimately concerned with death as an existential threat and a primary way through which the conflict of the story happens, and danger days is NOT those things, however danger days is no less serious and philosophically motivated, and has a comparable amount of death. 

In bullets & revenge, it's easy to see. The demo lovers are constantly up against danger, violence, and fighting. Furthermore i feel like the major conflict of bullets is with the vampires & vampirism, which relates to the concept of death in an obvious way. They fight as hard as they can against the vampires, but eventually fail, joining their ranks. They achieve "immortality" but not at the cost of "never dying"- i interpret this to mean they don't age or experience senescence (cause they're undead obv) but they can indeed die through external means (which they proceed to do). 

Revenge is centered around death as well. Demo lover (M) has died and has come back to life at some point, as well as that his girlfriend has died and is dead throughout most of the story. To solve this "dead gf" issue, demo lover (M) engages with death and violence even more, by killing 1,000 evil men. 

(Off topic, but this brings me to a point i've thought about before, that the "revenge" in tcfs"r" is not actually revenge. It's redemption. The biblical kind. Paying for something, especially a person's life held hostage, with a price, usually the price of another life. As far as i'm aware those 1k evil men did not personally slight the demo lovers-that would constitute literal revenge.)

Anyways, what i think is the canon interpretation of the ending is that demo lover (M) realizes after killing 999 evil men, that he's so far debased himself for his ends that he has become the last evil man he must kill, so he commits suicide and his girlfriend comes back. This is a bit depressing, but my ending has him staying alive and his girlfriend dying, so any way you slice it someone stays dead. 

My point is to say, obviously the theme of death, undeath, and killing is philosophically important to tcfsr. The demo lovers are literally dead on the album cover. 

Now I'm sure i don't need to explain why TBP is about death. TBP starts with death ends with death and is about it on nearly every point in the middle barring, like, teenagers and the sharpest lives??

The one interesting thing i DO have to add is this. In bullets & revenge, the conflict centers around death in the way that in nearly every song, they're fighting AGAINST death in some way. They are trying desperately to fight their way back to life and safety. TBP is different. Because it centers SOO heavily on mortality as a theme, death is simply the backdrop, the given, the immutable fact of life. Our main characters aren't dead and supernaturally trying to fight their way back to life, they are a.) going to die as a forgone conclusion, and b.) already a ghost with zero ways to return to life. The conflict centers not around trying to beat death back with knives, but DEALING with its reality, not with it itself, but different perspectives on it and what it means battling it out. 

Regardless, very much about death.

What about danger days?

You'd be correct to say that, unlike those 3, death & mortality aren't a central philosophical pillar of the themes & conflict. It's not even top 5 ngl. I'd say the conflict is more of freedom vs. control. The forces of control (BLI) and of freedom (killjoys) are literally and metaphorically battling each other. But i wouldn't say that every song exactly has this conflict. Some only show the side of killjoy freedom and make no mention of bli control. And i think that's where this misconception that danger days is just fun and not serious comes from. 

In the black parade, when you'd have a song that doesn't directly touch on the conflict and is just a fun bombastic rock song (teenagers), there's still a bit of themes in it (violence- it's related to the patient's and parader's arcs). When you'd have an off-topic song in revenge, it'd be about teen angst (a far cry from murder, killing, and satan). In bullets, the off-topic is about gerard way and 9/11 which is so far from vampires i don't even need to explain. 

When a bombastic party song like those appears in danger days, it actually relates to the themes much more closely. Think of party poison, the origin of the misconception in that meme. It's about having a crazy wild self destructive party. Relates back to the themes quite closely, considering that "kill[ing] the party" and "leav[ing] the party" are also actually metaphors for BLI and society in planetary (GO!). 

Not to mention the japanese lyrics (iirc) are about wanting to be famous, another theme that fits into vampire money and even BLI to some extent. And the fact that it's such a wild party that ends in destruction kinda fits into a thought i've had about danger days earlier: since the killjoys represent individuality and freedom, everything they do exists on this spectrum from being just very principled activists to kind of just unhinged rebels without a cause killing whoever they want because of the adrenaline rush. 

My other gripe with this idea is like…….ALL THE FAB FOUR DIE AT THE END. all of them get shot rescuing the girl. Danger days isn't ABOUT death, but it HAPPENS. In the only hope for me is you, the speaker says, "there, covered in glass, covered in ash, covered in all my friends- i still think of the bombs they built." That's not just some vapid party. This character is mourning their friends while recalling the memory of being covered in the viscera of their bodies. It's kind of silly to act like this album isn't serious just because it sounds more poppy. 

I'd say something that's much more threatening than bodily death for the killjoys is draculoid-ification. Becoming a vampire in bullets means losing your human ability to age and weird undead behavior changes, but becoming a draculoid is more similar to a zombie, or a robot. Anyways, THIS is an existential threat for a killjoy. They lose their souls and simply become mindless puppets for BLI to enact control and violence upon people. Note that this is simply an exaggerated version of how BLI treats PEOPLE, as identical parts of a machine that need to have their individuality and souls erased so they can be better citizens. 

Anyways, rant over. I love danger days & it truly has deep philosophical currents throughout it. The fact that they have crazy dance parties is simply a reflection of the theme of freedom and isn't devoid of meaning.

I NEED TO DO MY MATH BUT I CANT STOP WRITIGN ABOUT MCR