#also sorry but the “new” flag is worse | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 9 days ago

Text

Synopsis: You can put your first meeting with Eita Otoya down to coincidence; the second, too, and maybe even the third. But as your paths keep crossing again and again, you’re forced to realize that it may not be such a coincidence after all — that maybe, despite your fervent wishes for it to be otherwise, he’s the one you’ve been hoping to find all along. A spin-off of Five Ways to Kill a Crow!

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Otoya x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 26.7k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is so dramatic for 0 reason, reader has a lot of insecurities, otoya is…otoya?? so a red flag but in a goofy way, mentions of reader’s bff dating karasu (she’s the y/n from fwtkac!!), i cannot stress enough that this is just NOT that serious, reader is in love with everyone BUT otoya, aiku mentioned (derogatorily by reader but affectionately by me), lots of swearing, dumbass situations, enemies to lovers except they have 0 reasons to be enemies, generally simplistic writing style because this is meant to be a silly piece, so much otoya slander like bro gets called every name in the book

A/N: hello everyone i’m finally back with new writing LMAOAO i’m sorry it’s not an official request or anything but a lot of people have mentioned wanting to see fwtkac y/n’s best friend and otoya getting together so here is something along those lines!! i didn’t really lock in for this one tbh so if the writing seems worse than usual that’s why but anyways here’s a little something to tide you guys over until i get back on my typical grind. also for anyone who is wondering — no you don’t actually have to read fwtkac to understand this (i don’t think) but there are references to it scattered throughout the story!! so if something seems weirdly unexplained it’s probably something like that

It was cold out, cold and more than a little rainy, but inside of the movie theater where you and your cousins were sitting, it was warm to the point of discomfort. You had long ago shrugged off your jacket and unzipped your sweater, but whoever was in charge of the temperature must’ve decided they wanted to simulate the boiling climate of the Sahara, because your cheeks were hot and your throat was scratchy from the dry air blowing in your face.

By itself, that was bad enough. But to make matters worse, sitting directly in front of you was a boy on a date, who was clearly enthused to prove to the world that that was what he was doing. His fingers were tangled in his companion’s hair as he tugged her face impossibly closer to his, and the soft sounds of their kissing only made you burn hotter with shame. All you could do was slink down in your seat and try to pretend like you were anywhere but in that theater, at that moment, sitting beside your twelve year old cousin who, by some miracle, hadn’t said something immature about the situation yet. You had already given up on seeing the movie; no matter which way you craned your neck, the screen was always partially obstructed by the couple in front of you, so you just sat there and hoped for it to be over as fast as possible.

As soon as the movie ended, you shot to your feet, leaving your cousins behind as you raced into the lobby, your simmering frustration boiling over as you caught sight of the boy, who had been ditched by his date and was standing by a vending machine, punching in the code for a soft drink.

“Hey,” you snapped, standing behind him with your arms crossed. “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“What?” he said, turning around, his brow furrowed. The can of soda in his fist was weeping with condensation, droplets trickling down his long fingers onto his pale wrist, and for some reason, watching the slow seeping of water onto the sleeves of his sweatshirt was particularly enraging, exacerbating your already foul mood. Shouldering past him, you glared at the options in the machine, finding that the mixture of the salty popcorn and the parched air had left you thirsty but entirely unwilling to pay the exorbitant fees for literally every drink that was being offered.

“I sat behind you for the entire movie,” you said.

“Oh,” he said, obviously confused why you were bringing it up. Rolling your eyes, you decided on a bottle of water, typing in the code and presenting your card when prompted.

“I couldn’t see the screen the entire time because of you, you fucking dimwit,” you said. “Seriously, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for even a minute or two? Even plays have intermissions!”

“What are you talking about? Do you need help or something? I don’t have money, if that’s what you want,” he said, obviously lost. You narrowed your eyes, wondering if you had somehow gotten the wrong person before deciding that no, it was definitely him.

He was a distinct sort of person now that you looked at him more closely, even though he had seemed so nondescript at first. Most of his hair was a pale, silvery color, although it was streaked through with a green that fell in his pear-colored eyes, and his face had a delicate sort of handsomeness which might’ve made you swoon, were you the kind of person that was easily swayed by something so superficial.

“I don’t need money. I’m talking about how you and that girlfriend of yours were so busy—”

“Y/N!” Before you could launch into a full-blown tirade, you were interrupted by your youngest cousin, who was only nine, throwing his arms around your waist in a hug. “We were looking for you everywhere!”

“Oh!” you said. You rarely ever saw your cousins, but you remembered holding the youngest when he was only a baby, so you always felt particularly gentle around him, even if he wasn’t really anything close to a baby anymore. “I’m sorry, I was just thirsty, so I came to get some water.”

Bending over to retrieve your bottle of water, you unscrewed the cap, tilting your head back and pouring it down your throat before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and putting the lid back on. Shooting one last glare at the boy, who was still standing there, you placed one hand on your cousin’s head, steering him towards the door, though when you were certain he wasn’t looking at you, you allowed your scowl to reappear.

The boy was lucky your cousins had shown up; you would’ve said something rude to him then and there, but as it was, all you did was mouth the word jackass over your shoulder before you rounded the corner and left him behind for good.

The next Monday, you found your attitude hadn’t improved any. You were still irritated by that stupid boy and his stupid girlfriend and that stupid movie that you had stupidly wanted to watch. Maybe it was a little ridiculous that you were holding a grudge even now, but you had a sense that it wouldn’t go away until you got to complain to your best friend, who was the only person you knew would support you no matter what.

You didn’t have any classes together in the morning, which meant you had to wait to rant to her until lunch — this was a good thing, because it meant you wouldn’t be interrupted, but it was also a bad thing, because it meant she would be with her new boyfriend.

By the time you sat down, she was already done eating, leaning against Karasu’s arm as she played on his phone, although she did smile at you in greeting when you slammed your tray filled with your disgusting, school-provided lunch across from her.

“I hate couples,” you announced as a preamble, wanting her to know what the topic of your whining would be about today.

“Hm,” she said.

“I’m serious!” you said.

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

You sighed, because you realized how your words could’ve been misconstrued. It wasn’t that you were upset she was with Karasu — if anything, it was kind of a relief, given how much drama the two of them had caused you for years — but you could see how your words could be interpreted in that way.

“I know,” you said, both as a concession and because she was right; Karasu’s friends really were, by and large, losers. “Actually, you two aren’t the ones that prompted me to say that this time, oddly enough.”

“Oh, then who did?” she said, her attention obviously piqued now that it was clear you weren’t going to grumble about her.

“You know how I went to visit my cousins last weekend?” you said. She 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?” she said, already accustomed to your preferred method of story-telling.

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

“That’s annoying. How’d you know he was dumb looking, though? Wasn’t the theater dark?” she said. If she weren’t currently pressed against her boyfriend, who was both athletic and petty enough to deck you if you tried something, you would’ve leaned across the table and kissed her for going along with you so perfectly.

“I confronted him afterwards,” you said.

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

“Huh?” you said. “Oh, she had already left. Guess she wasn’t that into him.” You punctuated that with a snicker, because the thought of the boy getting some humility forced into him was admittedly quite nice.

“Yikes,” your best friend said, although she then pouted at her screen. “Aw, man, I died. At this rate, I’ll never beat the high score.”

Karasu asked her for his phone back, going into some story about a cooler, so you took advantage of her brief moment of distraction to shove half of your sandwich down your throat. It wasn’t a great sandwich by any means, but it was at least better than nothing, and even though it was heavy like glue in your mouth when you chewed it, you forced it down dutifully, not wanting to be hungry during the second half of the day.

“Okay, describe this guy,” she said when she was done with her conversation. “I’m really interested in what could have driven you to judge his appearance so harshly.”

“Listen!” you said, rejuvenated by the food in your stomach and her interest in your story. “His hair was green!”

“Green?” she repeated.

“Yes!” you said, entirely vindicated by her incredulity. “Well, mostly it was a grayish white, but there was a green streak, and the undercut part was also green.”

She snorted. “That’s wild. 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,” you said, thinking back to the boy and his hair, which, despite its odd coloring, hadn’t seemed destroyed in the slightest. It bore the consideration that maybe it was natural, but you didn’t want to believe that it was.

“I know for a fact that he had the most damaged, dead, crunchy-looking hair ever,” she said. You shook your head sadly, because as much as you wished that that was the case, you knew it wasn’t.

“It was actually pretty shiny and luscious,” you admitted. “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,” she suggested. You immediately pretended to gag, because saying something even remotely kind about the boy had taken so much out of you that the thought of having to actually be with him, let alone fix him, was like a punch to the gut.

“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,” you said, eyeing Karasu’s hair suspiciously, wondering how it was that your best friend still hadn’t managed to convince him to go without the wax.

“Huh? Did you say my name?” Karasu said, handing your best friend his phone back and blinking at you curiously. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you and your best friend said in unison. He was obviously weirded out, but to his immense credit, did not argue much more, obviously deciding it wasn’t a battle he wanted to have. That was the kind of boyfriend he was, which was ironic, given how he and your best friend were once constantly at each other’s throats.

“Anyways, that’s my rant for the day,” you said, because there wasn’t much else to add. Your cousins had pulled you away before you could really do anything that would make for a truly excellent story, and there was only so much you could do to make the entire thing sound interesting to an uninvolved third party.

“That really is awful,” she 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,” you said, and it was the truth. “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,” she said, and it was both a good and bad thing that that was the case: good, because you knew she would never let you end up with someone shitty, but bad, because the prospects at your school were less than slim: they were nonexistent.

“You’re the best,” you said anyways, making a heart with your hands, because after all, it wasn’t her fault, and she really was doing what she could.

“I try!” she said, and then you moved on to lighter subjects, such as the upcoming exam that you all had to take for Modern Literature — Karasu’s teammates were betting that he’d get the higher score on it, but as the loyal type, you had no choice but to bet on your best friend, although you really would’ve done so regardless. You couldn’t remember a single test in all of the years that you had known the two of them where Karasu had beaten her, at least not in Modern Literature.

Most of autumn and the beginning of winter crept along in the same way that the rest of the year had. It was monotony, really, although you didn’t mind it terribly most of the time. It would get to you on rare occasions, and only ever late at night, when you would lie in your bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder when it would be your turn for something exciting to happen.

Your prayers were answered, as they often were, in the form of your best friend. She had been invited to some big soccer game in Tokyo by both Karasu and his teammate, Hiori, which meant she had a spare ticket. She had yammered on the phone about the details, something about a key match and the stakes for the team, but you didn’t need any convincing.

“Obviously, I’ll come,” you said.

“You will?” she said.

“I’ve been wanting to go to the city for a while, anyways,” you said. “It’ll be fun!”

Plus, you thought to yourself, though you did not dare vocalize it, this could be my chance. She would never understand it, what it meant for you, why you were so invested, but the truth was that for you, this was the opportunity you had been waiting for. The opportunity to escape the dullness of your life. The opportunity to find something like what your best friend had with Karasu — someone, actually, and in particular someone who loved you simply because of who you were. You didn’t want any part of that bullshit that the boys in your high school liked to talk about, those strange confessions that felt more like the kinds of appraisals one would give to livestock than anything; you wanted to find something that was more characteristic of a romantic comedy than real life. Something that made your heart race and your stomach drop. Something like that.

The day of the game was the coldest all year, and you wrapped your blue scarf tighter around your neck as you sat in the bleachers next to your best friend and a girl with flowing red hair who introduced herself as Koyuki Chigiri. Rubbing your hands together for warmth, you engaged in idle conversation with the two of them while you waited for the match to begin, hoping that it would go by quickly so that you could return to the warmth of your car.

“I’m number 6’s girlfriend,” your best friend said in response to Koyuki’s question about who on the field she knew. There was a special fondness to the way she said the word girlfriend, and pride in the way she said his name: “Tabito Karasu.”

“I see him!” Koyuki 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.”

She needn’t have said anything. The two of them were all but carbon copies of one another, and you were quite certain that you could’ve picked them out as siblings in any crowd.

“He looks just like you,” you offered, which was a bit tongue-in-cheek, but she didn’t seem to take it personally.

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

“Technically, I’m not with anyone,” you began with a cringe. It sounded even more embarrassing when you said it aloud, especially when Koyuki’s inquisitive smile didn’t drop. “The thing is, both Karasu and number 16, Yo Hiori, invited her, so I just took her extra — what the fuck.”

Your jaw dropped as you looked out on the field and saw Karasu standing with someone eerily familiar. For a moment, you wondered if you were perhaps seeing a ghost or hallucinating or something, but as the seconds dragged by, you were forced to confront the fact that this was reality, that he was somehow, miraculously and inexplicably, here.

“Is everything okay?” your best friend said. “Hello? What’s gotten into you?”

“Hey,” you said faintly. “Why is your boyfriend talking to that — that — that creature? Why is that thing even on the field in the first place?”

“Number 9?” Koyuki said innocently. “Do you know him?”

You wanted to laugh and cry in turn. Did you know him? No, not really. He wasn’t anybody important or relevant, just a bad omen of sorts. What did it mean that he was here again? What aspect of your life would he manage to ruin this time?

“Are you serious?” your best friend said, clearly having reached the same conclusion you already had. “That Otoya dude is the theater guy?”

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

She responded with something snarky about how he was probably there to play soccer, but you tuned her out, far too taken with this discovery, with this Otoya. It was undoubtedly him; nobody else would have that same coloring, that same slender build or sly posture. Even from the distance, his countenance reminded you of a snake’s, or perhaps a mouse’s — entirely cunning and shifty, untrustworthy and quick. You couldn’t tell what business Karasu, who had always been open and honest to a fault, had with someone like that, but to your dismay, it seemed like the two of them were genuine friends.

For the most part, you tried to ignore him, and it was relatively simple to do so. He was nothing compared to the other players, slipping beneath your notice, or so you liked to think. After all, what cause did you have to focus on Otoya when there was number 7, scoring the kind of goal that movies were made about? He was astounding, and the way he crashed to the ground and crumpled in a heap, pale hair spilling onto the grass of the field and long limbs sprawled out beneath him, was so reminiscent of a tragic hero that you audibly gasped before you even knew what was happening, jumping to your feet and breaking into applause along with Koyuki and your best friend. For a moment, you three were the only ones in the entire stadium to react, and then everyone else roared to life as number 7 — Nagi, his name was Nagi — pumped his fist in the air.

“That was amazing!” you said as the cheers died down and you all returned to your seats. “I never realized that soccer could be so exciting to watch.”

Was this the kind of thing that your best friend got to see every time she went to one of Karasu and Hiori’s games for Bambi Osaka? Somehow, based on the surprised look in her eyes, you doubted that it was the case. This was something special, something out-of-the-ordinary, and so, too, was Nagi.

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

“Don’t even mention him!” you said, cutting her off with a huff, fully aware that she was just trying to mess with you. “Nagi’s the one who scored, so stick to praising him!”

“Hyoma’s doing so well!” Koyuki said, her face the same shade as her hair and split with a white grin. “I can’t believe it. It’s like he was never hurt at all!”

Overcome with a bout of shivering, you hugged yourself tightly, hoping for some meager warmth. Readjusting your scarf, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your sweater.

“Honestly, this is way more intense than I expected,” you said. “I really hope they manage to win.”

“They will,” your best friend said. “I’m confident of that.”

You didn’t know anywhere near as much as she did about soccer, so you had no choice but to trust her confidence. She was clearly assured of herself, and her faith inspired you to have your own. They would definitely be victorious. Even though the U-20 boys had those two players, Sae and Aiku, you could tell that the rest of them had nothing on the Blue Lock players, who were playing with such speed and skill that you couldn’t even wrap your head around it.

Right before the referee blew the whistle for halftime, Blue Lock’s number 10, Rin, scored another goal, putting them in the lead for the first half. The way he did it was definitely technically perfect, but to you, it seemed like it was effortless — which you supposed was half the skill of it all.

As the players cleared the field, jogging towards their locker rooms, Koyuki stood up, waving her hands frantically. You gave her an odd look, but she ignored you, far too focused on gaining someone’s attention.

“Hyoma! Over here!” she called out. Although it was far, her voice carried enough that her brother, who was in the middle of drinking from his water bottle, whipped around, his eyes widening when he noticed Koyuki taking out her phone and snapping a photo of him. “He noticed me! Ah, hello, Hyoma! You’re doing awesome!”

Behind the younger Chigiri, you noticed Karasu walking with someone else, and you were dimly aware of your best friend shouting out her boyfriend’s name, waving at him with the giddiness of a puppy. You would’ve found the entire exchange nauseatingly sweet, but you were too preoccupied with Karasu’s companion to pay them any mind.

Standing up, you jabbed your finger towards Otoya. You probably — definitely — looked insane, but for some reason, the thought of him just getting to hang around and attain something like stardom in the soccer world was unbearable. He turned his head to both sides, like he was checking to see if there was anyone else you could possibly be motioning towards, but when he came to the understanding that there was no one else, that there never had been, that it was only him, he pointed at himself hesitantly. With a curt nod, you flipped him off, rocking onto your heels when he froze in confusion and sitting back in your seat as Karasu dragged him off to the locker rooms where the rest of the team was undoubtedly waiting for them.

“That’s what he gets,” you said, brushing your palms off against your thighs in satisfaction.

“He probably has no idea who you are,” your best friend said with a giggle. “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,” you said, almost betrayed at the fact that she was taking Otoya’s side over your own. “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,” she said. You almost opened your mouth to argue with her, but considering even you had nearly admitted that he was handsome, you found that you didn’t really have any grounds upon which to do so. “And fresh out of the swamp? Aren’t you being a little harsh?”

“No way,” you said, glowering at her, and only half in jest. “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,” she said before turning to Koyuki and asking her if she wanted any snacks. You dug your elbows into your thighs, exhaling as you gazed out onto the empty field, marveling at the crystals which puffed into the air from your breath.

“So,” Koyuki said once your best friend was gone. “What’s the history between you and Otoya?”

“History? There’s no history,” you said.

“It sure seems like there is,” she said.

“There isn’t,” you said. “Well, unless you count obstruction of a movie in that category.”

“I’m…not sure? You’ll have to elaborate,” she said.

“Basically, I had to sit behind him in a movie theater once, and instead of actually getting to watch the film — which, mind you, I was very excited about seeing — I was treated to a front-row experience of him and his girlfriend’s make-out session,” you said, wrinkling your nose at the mere memory.

“Ah,” Koyuki said. “That’s the worst.”

“Isn’t it?” you said. “Anyways, I didn’t even know his name until today. He’s really not important; the only reason I’m here is because of the extra ticket and…actually, it’s embarrassing.”

Even as you said it, you shrank away from Koyuki, who would undoubtedly judge you for the shallow reasoning. How silly your foolish desires would seem to a girl who was supporting her little brother! Silly and dumb and pathetic and unrealistic.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, and she was so genuine when she did that you relented without further convincing.

“I want a boyfriend,” you admitted. “Not in, like, a desperate way or anything, but out of all of our friends back at home, I’m the only one who doesn’t have anything close to a relationship. I guess it would be nice to be the one who’s picked for a change, and it’s not like there’s anyone at my high school who I necessarily want to pick me.”

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing,” Koyuki said.

“Isn’t it? What kind of idiot goes to a soccer game just because they want to date one of the players? I bet those guys down there could have any girl they wanted. Why would they go for me? I’m not like my best friend. You know, Karasu was in love with her for years before he finally mustered up the courage to ask her out, and even then, it was only because she forced him to. How am I ever supposed to find someone like that by just sitting on the sidelines?” you said. You weren’t even sure why you were telling Koyuki all of this — the two of you had only just met, after all, but now that you had begun, you couldn’t stop. Maybe it was that you had never been able to say this to anyone, least of all your best friend, who you didn’t want to burden with your issues, but it was like a floodgate had opened. “That’s why it’s embarrassing. I’m just like every other fan with dreams bordering on delusion.”

“I wouldn’t say that’s the case,” Koyuki said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. “After all, your best friend is dating one of the players. I’m sure she and…Karasu, was it? The two of them would definitely be willing to help set you up with whoever you want, as long as the other party is open to it. That’s a connection that ‘every other fan’ doesn’t have.”

“That’s true,” you said. She patted you on the shoulder.

“Cheer up! Don’t think too much about it. Figure out if any of them are even worth your while, and then you can think about how you’ll approach them,” she said.

“I guess that makes sense,” you said.

“Good,” she said firmly. “If you don’t believe in yourself, then how can you expect other people to? Do you want a boyfriend?”

“Yes?” you said.

“Yes! Then you’ll get one,” she said. “Ooh! My fries!”

“I had to fight an old lady for these,” your best friend said, handing a bucket of fries to Koyuki and pressing a box of your favorite candy in your palm. “I know you didn’t ask for anything, Y/N, but I thought you might want this.”

“Thank you,” you said, tearing open the packet and taking out a handful to suck on as the second half began.

There was a new player on the U-20 team, and he managed to score two goals in quick succession, giving them the lead and a renewed vigor in play. His name was Shidou, and he was completely unlike anything you had ever seen before, cackling like a maniac as he played, talking about impregnation with every goal he made. It was so odd that it crossed the line from disconcerting into plain fascinating, and you found yourself trying to picture what a conversation with him would be like.

Shortly after Shidou’s first goal, Hyoma Chigiri collapsed to the ground. Koyuki inhaled sharply, stuffing her mouth with fries and chewing rapidly as another player, the number 3, stumbled before slumping over entirely. You swallowed, immediately glancing at your best friend, who was the only one unconcerned amongst the three of you.

“It looks like a cramp,” she reassured you both. “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,” Koyuki said. You hummed in agreement before returning your eyes to the match, where the substitutes were being announced. Up until this point, the only player that had even somewhat caught your eye was Nagi, and you wondered if either of the newcomers would manage to outdo him and his flashy goal from earlier.

Niko was being helped off of the field by his replacement, a tall boy with purple hair tied up in a messy ponytail and the number 14 emblazoned across his broad back. He hadn’t even played yet, but for some reason, he looked oddly familiar, and not just because he had the sort of body one would expect to feature in music videos. No, it was something else…

“No way, is that Reo Mikage?” you said, your hand flying to your mouth as you read the name lettered onto his jersey. What the hell was Reo Mikage doing in this match? As the scion of the Mikage Corporation, didn’t he have better things to be doing than kicking around a ball with a bunch of sweaty dumbasses?

“Like the corporate heir?” your best friend said.

“I’m sure of it!” you said. Now that you could see his face, it was abundantly clear that it was him. There was no mistaking Reo Mikage, after all; the entire country knew who he was. “Oh, man, 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!”

You were prone to such flights of fancy, after all. Nobody questioned it when you rambled on and on about this type of thing, especially because it never came to fruition. You were the one who talked and talked about things like weddings and marriage and romance, but when it came down to it, you had less experience than a middle schooler.

“I can ask,” she said. “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!”

Her voice tapered into a squeal, which might’ve been strange, considering she was cheering for a man who was very much not her boyfriend, but from what little you knew of the dynamic, Hiori was something like a younger brother to both her and Karasu alike, so it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest.

When he ran onto the field, it was to join Otoya at his side, earning him a thump on the back in greeting. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, wishing that Hiori had gone anywhere else, because now Otoya had recaptured your attention, and you had done so well at ignoring him thus far that you were irritated to remember he still existed.

“Somebody save that poor, innocent boy,” you said, shaking your head as the game began anew.

“Hiori? From what?” your best friend said.

“From being corrupted and turned into a bad-mannered asshole by Otoya,” you said. Currently, the ball was nearer to Blue Lock’s goal than the U-20’s, so Otoya was hanging back, ever-ready for a counter but still hiding in the shadows, leaving the majority of the work to the defenders.

You didn’t think anyone else was looking at him just then, so you took the moment to pick apart his every flaw in a way that felt private, even though you were both surrounded by people. Skinny as hell. Shitty posture. Dumb hair. Expressionless. Probably awful at soccer. Definitely has perpetually scraped knees. Might smell like grass, and not in a good way. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid —

“Woah,” your best friend said, causing you to blink and redirect your attention to where Reo Mikage had just done…something. You weren’t really sure what, exactly, but it must’ve been sufficiently impressive, because there were more than a few claps and hollers of approval thrown his way. “Reo’s rich and a soccer genius? I thought you were full of bullshit earlier, but you actually might be onto something.”

“Exactly,” you said, and although you still didn’t know what Reo had done to deserve the title of ‘soccer genius’, you fully believed that he deserved it. “What a man.”

Unfortunately, no matter how good both Reo and the rest of the players on the Blue Lock team were, Shidou still did make that second goal, which led to the current situation: number 11, Isagi, storming over to the sidelines, saying something to his coach with entirely more rage than you ever would’ve expected someone as meek as him could possess.

“They look like they’re arguing,” Koyuki said, worrying her lower lip in between her teeth. “Do you think everything is alright?”

Both you and her gazed expectantly at your best friend, who seemed shocked that you were deferring to her — not that she should’ve been, considering the fact that she had been explaining the game until this point to you pretty effectively.

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

“Huh?” you said, trying to discern if this was one of her obscure literature references or something from social media that you had missed.

“Never mind,” she 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,” you said as the referee whistled to announce that the final substitute for the Blue Lock players would be taking the field. You leaned forwards in anticipation — given that the last substitution had resulted in Reo taking the field, you had high expectations for this last player, who according to the board was their number 13: Barou.

He more than delivered. His dark hair was pushed out of his face, away from his features, which were so sharp that they seemed to be made of marble. Although you were so far away, you could see how vibrant his crimson eyes were, how tempestuous and volatile everything about him, down to his very aura, was. He didn’t stop to greet Isagi, who was clearly pleased by his appearance, and when he took the field, it was with a sort of savagery, like a beast baring its fangs at its prey.

“That guy is scary,” your best friend said.

“Scary hot,” you said.

“Moving on from Reo already? This is why you’ll never have a boyfriend,” she said. “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,” you said, elbowing her in the side and covering the sting of the truth with a smirk. It wasn’t her fault, after all. She couldn’t change the fact that someone loved her anymore than you could change the fact that no one loved you. “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,” she said. “What’s his name? Barou? I’m interested to see how he does.”

True to her word, Otoya was striding off of the field, pausing only to mutter something to Barou before joining the others on the bench. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling at the twist of events — you didn’t have to worry about distractions anymore. With Otoya gone, there wouldn’t be anything in your way. You wouldn’t have anything or anyone obstructing your enjoyment for the rest of the match.

“He’s getting rid of that wannabe bog monster? Even better! He’s quickly shooting up in my rankings,” you said, clapping your hands together.

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

“Thanks,” you said, stretching your neck so you could see where Otoya was sitting with the other players. There he was, on the bench next to a fine-boned boy with curly black hair, sipping on some drink or another. You couldn’t quite tell given the angle, but as it made you feel better to think so, you decided that he must’ve been sitting there and seething that he had been replaced. It must’ve crushed him, that he had been taken off the field before he could even do anything meaningful! How humiliating. If only you were there, too, you would’ve crouched there and told him these things…it still wouldn’t make up for that dumb movie that he made you miss, that you still hadn’t gotten the chance to see, but it would probably make you feel better for the moment.

“Check this out,” your best friend said, interrupting your train of thought for the hundredth time in the past fifteen minutes. “They’re making edits of us.”

“What?” you said. Koyuki let out a delighted laugh as you all watched the clip of the three of you in the audience play.

“They’re really talented!” she said. “Save that and send it to me after the game, please.”

“On it,” your best friend said, saving the video to a folder and then putting her phone away, just in time for you to catch Barou scoring in what, once again, must’ve been some great feat but was to you just another move you couldn’t really comprehend.

Every single person was on their feet, screaming as Barou yanked his jersey off, throwing it into the air and flexing his arms as he jumped in celebration, roaring back at the audience as everyone chanted his name.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow is right!” your best friend said, prompting you to give her a concerned look. “That was an incredible play. Barou is in another realm entirely!”

Of course, she was talking about soccer. But that was the furthest thing from your mind at the moment; you didn’t care about the sport or Barou’s aptitude at it, especially not now.

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

“Ew, nasty,” she said, smacking your forearm in reprimand. You didn’t even deny it; you both knew exactly what you meant when you said that, and it was something you would stand by if need be.

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

“I have a boyfriend. I’m not allowed to answer that,” she said. You crossed your arms at the hypocrisy of that response.

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

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

“I sense favoritism,” you said with an injured sniff on Barou’s behalf. “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,” she said lightly. “I liked you better when you were in love with Reo.”

At the mention of Reo, your face warmed, and involuntarily, you looked over to where he was talking with his team’s goalie, his expression grave and motions decisive.

“Believe me, I still am,” you 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?” she said. You ground your teeth.

“That’s not the point!” you said, which earned you a snicker from her.

“Did you know that those two are brothers?” Koyuki said a few minutes later, pointing at the two opposing players battling for the ball.

“Sae and Rin?” you said.

“Mhm, yeah, I overheard these two guys talking about it while I was at the trash can earlier,” she said.

“Their parents must have incredible genes,” your best friend said. “Those two are easily the best players on their respective teams.”

“They’re both really good,” you added, not because you had any opinions one way or another but because you wanted to be included in the discussion.

Even you could tell that this last play was crucial. With the score tied and both teams functioning at a completely different intensity than earlier, everyone in the audience was keenly aware of the fact that the game could really go either way. Koyuki had your best friend’s hand in a death grip, and you were twisting the ends of your scarf as you sucked on your teeth, every successive moment of the game causing your nerves to fray further.

Right when it seemed that everything would end with a tie, the ball landed at Isagi’s feet, and even though you had hardly taken notice of him for this entire game, you were suddenly struck by the fact that he, too, was kind of angry, was kind of beautiful. Without taking a moment to consider or hesitate, he drew his leg back and, nanoseconds before the referee blew the whistle, slammed his foot into the ball, sending it flying to the net with a flourish.

“They did it!” Koyuki shrieked, tackling you and your best friend in a hug before you even had a chance to react, pulling you to her sides so tightly it was as if you were the ones who had won.

“They did!” your best friend shrieked back.

“I can’t believe it!” you said, your cheek smushed against Koyuki’s collarbone as your eyes darted towards the field, where the Blue Lock boys were celebrating. “They really pulled it off!”

It was ridiculous. It was amazing. It was fantastical. There was no way it should’ve ended up in this way, but somehow, it really was the case that the Blue Lock players had won. That was the sort of thing that only happened in movies, and yet it had ended up like that. There was a sort of hope which brewed in you just then, a hope that if you lived in a world where a team of high school forwards could beat the best players in the country, then the chances of things working out for you might not be so slim after all.

After that, everything seemed to work out exactly as Koyuki had predicted they would. Somehow, and you weren’t quite sure what she had said to convince him of it, but somehow, your best friend had gotten the two of you invited to a meeting that Karasu was having with some of the other Blue Lock players — players which included none other than Reo Mikage himself.

“Tell Karasu to sit next to you, and then have him get Reo to sit in between himself and me,” you said when you arrived at the cafe where the meeting was supposedly going to be held. You had made her arrive a few minutes early, just in case Reo was the type to believe in the early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable school of thought, and you had gotten enough sleep last night, so you were fresh-faced and ready to make a good impression on the boy who was almost assuredly the love of your life, or at least soon would be.

“Yup, I know the plan,” your best friend said.

“Good,” you said, although considering she had been the one to come up with the plan in the first place, it would’ve been a little ridiculous if she had forgotten by now. “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,” she said, pointing at what she wanted. You made a mental note of which menu items she had indicated before nodding.

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

“It’s peak brunch time,” she said, which did make sense. “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 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,” you said, wincing in horror at the mere thought. It was less embarrassing for her to be waiting by herself, since she had her boyfriend as an excuse, but you? You were barely associated with any of the players, and without her and Karasu there to smooth over any introductions, you were sure they would be more than a little stilted and awkward.

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

“I’m going!” you said, sufficiently motivated, if not by your lack of caffeine until now, then by the chance that this entire trip would’ve been for nothing.

Luckily, although it was long, the line was fast-moving, and it didn’t take you quite as much time as you thought it would to get to the counter. Rattling off what you and your best friend wanted, you paid for it all and tucked the receipt into your pocket, stepping to the side to wait for your order to be placed on the counter.

“Y/N!” the barista shouted, setting the two drinks and scones you had ordered onto the counter. You furrowed your brow as you inspected them, turning the clear cup of iced coffee around to ensure it was your name written on it. “Uh, ma’am, is there a problem?”

“What?” you said, glancing up at the barista, who was looking at you in confusion. “No, I just thought I had ordered this hot. I must’ve said the wrong thing, though! Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, no!” she said, reaching for the cup. “Let me remake it!”

“It’s fine,” you said, tugging the cup back. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a limousine driving away, which almost certainly meant Reo was here by now, and yet there you were, stuck inside of the cafe. “I don’t mind if it’s iced.”

“It’s my first week, so I definitely just got confused. It’s my mistake, so please allow me to rectify it. Free of charge!” she said, snatching the cup from your hand without letting you get a word in edgewise.

You tapped your foot anxiously as you waited for her to remake it, her every movement far too slow, to the point that it felt like she was doing it on purpose. Finally, she came back with the new cup, and balancing it on your hand with what your best friend had ordered, you muttered a quick ‘thank you’ to the barista and rushed out of the shop.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said by way of explanation, keeping your eyes on your best friend, too flustered to look anywhere else. Normally, she would’ve given you an encouraging nod, but for some reason, she seemed on edge, which was your first sign that something was wrong. “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,” your best friend said, and the lack of a joke or even a smile was so out-of-character for her that you actually were about to ask her what was wrong.

Then, however, there was a flash of green in your peripheral vision, a specific shade like an April spring cutting through March’s white winter, and something cold rushed over you as you realized just what that meant.

“You!” you said, pointing at the one person you didn’t want to see, the one person who was basically the sum total of every single moment of bad luck you had ever had, the one person that was your life’s misfortune concentrated into a slender body, the one person who kept showing up for some reason. Your best friend’s drink slipped from your hands as you set the rest of your order onto the table, glaring at Otoya all the while. He groaned, burying his face in his hands, and the reaction was so adverse coming from someone who had never even been wronged by you that it only caused you to be even more irascible. “You owe me ten dollars!”

“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.”

You were going to crush his throat. You were going to reach out and wrap your fingers around his pale neck and squeeze until he choked and stopped spouting bullshit like that. What kind of ego did he possess, that he immediately assumed you would ever want to date him? Him!

“You were definitely on a date,” you hissed. “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!”

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

Before you could say anything further, you were interrupted by none other than Reo Mikage, who was clearly more than a little annoyed by the argument.

“Okay, guys, how about we all relax and get to the point of this meeting instead of squabbling over past grievances?” he said with a sigh.

It was a miracle you didn’t burst into tears then and there. Of course it happened like this. Of course it did. You suddenly felt so dumb for hoping that it would be different. Why had you thought that you would ever be appealing to someone like that? Why had you believed it would be possible for you to actually impress him? Your clothes suddenly seemed too garish, your face comical and your hair outlandish in front of his exasperation. You shouldn’t have tried so hard. You should’ve known better.

“Fine by me,” Otoya said after a second. “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,” your best friend said, standing and using her hand to steer you back into the cafe.

As soon as the door swung shut behind you, you allowed your expression to crumple. “I completely made an awful first impression on Reo Mikage!”

“I can’t lie, you definitely did, but at least it was entertaining for the rest of us,” she said. That didn’t make you feel any better, and she must’ve picked up on that, because she wrapped her arm around your shoulders as you got in line again. “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,” you said. The fact that you had been so close, that you had had Reo within your grasp before making an idiot of yourself in front of everyone…it felt close to what you assumed being slapped in public must’ve. “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.”

That was the conclusion you had reached: Otoya was something like a curse for you. If he was there, then things would invariably go badly; Reo and the movie were the proof of it, and you didn’t want to know what other aspects he would meddle with if given the chance.

“You might be better off if you pretend he’s not around,” your best friend said, as if she were reading your mind. “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,” you said, because if she was guaranteeing it, then it was all but assured, and the idea was much more palatable than further fumbling around in front of Reo, who already likely thought of you as a bratty girl prone to throwing tantrums. Overcome with fondness for her generosity, you turned to her and continued: “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,” she said, wrinkling her nose at you as you reached the counter and began to order.

By the time you received your new drinks and additional scones, your stomach was rumbling. Exiting the cafe with half of a scone in your mouth and a stack of napkins in your hands, you raised your eyebrows when you saw that the number of people at the table you had left behind seemed to have multiplied.

You recognized a few of them — Karasu and Reo, of course, given that you had gone to school with the former for years and were the latter’s self-proclaimed biggest fan, as well as Otoya, begrudgingly, and Isagi, who was one of the newcomers but had been the one to score the winning goal for Blue Lock, making him a person of note. Then there were others who you remembered only vaguely — Hyoma Chigiri, who was Koyuki’s little brother, and Kenyu Yukimiya, who was a model and, somehow, a friend of your best friend’s.

Deciding that the boy with the cascading black hair and fluttering lashes seemed like the safest, most neutral party, and having no intentions of confronting Isagi with Otoya so near, you sidled over to him, sipping on your drink and waiting for him to notice you. He did almost immediately, and with a smile, he waved you closer.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Aryu. Who might you be?”

The fact that he had introduced himself instead of automatically assuming you knew who he was instantly set you at ease, so you didn’t even feel shy in reciprocating.

“Y/N,” you said. “It’s nice to meet you, Aryu.”

“And you as well!” he said.

“Do you mind if I hang around with you for a bit?” you said.

“Not at all,” he said. “In fact, it might be for the better. I fear I’ve offended Karasu a bit, and any buffer I can get is one I’ll accept.”

“Offended Karasu?” you said. “Don’t worry, it happens to the best of us. He’s pretty crabby.”

“I can’t blame him this time,” the boy sitting next to Aryu piped up. “Aryu was totally hitting on his girlfriend. I’m Tokimitsu, by the way! Uh, but, not like you asked or anything. Sorry!”

“I was not hitting on her! I was only acknowledging her glamorous spirit!” Aryu said. “There’s a difference.”

“Um, okay,” you said, because you had a sense that you didn’t want to know what he meant by your best friend having a glamorous spirit. “And don’t apologize, Tokimitsu. It’s always good to know more people. Speaking of which, who are the others?”

“Well, you know Karasu,” Aryu said. “Next to him is Otoya, then Reo, Yukimiya, Isagi, Chigiri, and Bachira. We’re all in Blue Lock together.”

“Besides me, the rest of them played in the game against the U-20s!” Tokimitsu added. “Reo was a substitute, but he was totally amazing, wasn’t he?”

“Totally,” you said, tempering your exhale so it didn’t sound dreamy and longing. “And yes, now that you mention it, I do remember watching all of you play. I was at the game, you know!”

“Yeah, of course!” Tokimitsu said. “You’re one of the girls from the edits.”

“I didn’t know how popular those were,” you said, frowning in confusion. According to your best friend, the fact that you, her, and Koyuki had been the first to cheer for Nagi’s goal meant that the cameras had focused on you for a while, leading people to make edits of the three of you in turn. She was more invested in it than you; in truth, you didn’t really keep up with that side of social media, except for when she sent you particularly good ones. “I mean, you recognized me just based on those alone?”

“Apparently, you’re extra-famous,” Aryu said. “You’re in one of the top Blue Lock pairings.”

“Top what now?” you said. Tokimitsu hummed in agreement.

“I was telling your friend about this earlier, too, but it’s really the case — people have been shipping you guys with the players!” he said.

“That means they want you to get together, or believe you would make a good couple,” Aryu explained, ostensibly because your befuddlement was still shining through.

“Oh,” you said. “I’m assuming she’s shipped with Karasu, then.”

“Of course,” Tokimitsu said. “They’re the number one trending couple, actually. You’re number two.”

“With who?” you said tentatively, unsure of whether you wanted to find out. What if it was Reo or Barou? What if it wasn’t them? What if it was someone completely random, like Bachira? Not that you had anything against Bachira, of course, but you weren’t sure how you felt about being…what was the word? Shipped? You weren’t sure how you felt about being shipped with him, that was all.

“Otoya!” Tokimitsu said cheerfully. “It’s because of that clip of you giving him the middle finger right before halftime.”

“It’s a thing now,” Aryu said, completely unaware or perhaps uncaring of the fright mingling with disgust that was seeping into every crevice of your body. “People have made matching profile photos of the two of you. It’s all very sweet.”

“Otoya?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “People are ‘shipping’ me with Otoya? Are you serious? You’re not, right? Please tell me you’re joking. You’re joking, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”

Tokimitsu rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling nervously. “Uh, I mean, it’s not like it’s a binding vow or anything. You don’t have to date him just because a bunch of social media users think you should…”

“How?” you said. “How does someone look at me and then look at him and think that we’re somehow compatible? That’s — that’s — it’s preposterous, that’s what it is!”

“Um, I don’t really know, but I’m, er, sorry!” Tokimitsu squeaked.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that you should be apologizing to Tokimitsu, not the other way around. He was only telling you what he had seen and what was surely one of those silly internet trends that would pass in a week or two; you were the one who was so affected by it when you really had no reason to be. In fact, you wouldn’t have been, had it been anyone else. Anyone but Otoya and you would’ve laughed along, but it wasn’t anyone else. It was him, it was that insufferable, mannerless freak with the hair from a children’s coloring book and the kind of ego that you would read about in overinflated posts online — he was the one that people had, for some reason, propped up as a good match for you or whatever it was that shipping meant.

“Moving on,” Aryu said, “I love your outfit today, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you said, knowing an attempt at redirection when you saw it and deciding there was no point in stewing further. “Your hair is really pretty, by the way. What’s your secret? It’s so long, but it doesn’t look damaged at all.”

“I’m glad you asked!” Aryu said. “The secret is oiling it every weekend.”

“Ah, I see,” you said, nodding along at the appropriate moments as he walked you through his hair-care routine.

“You know what we should do?” Bachira’s singsong voice cut through Aryu’s speech, catching all of your attention. “Since all of us are together for the first time outside of Blue Lock, we should hang out!”

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

“Mostly due to certain individuals,” Reo said, looking pointedly at Otoya, which made you feel particularly self-satisfied. Maybe all hope wasn’t completely lost — if Reo was assigning the larger portion of the blame to Otoya, then perhaps you could still convince him that you weren’t to be associated with his childishness.

“Me? Blame her!” Otoya said, pointing at you. You made a face at him, which he did not return, but you felt in your heart that he very much wanted to.

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

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

You supposed it was as close to a win as you were getting, so you didn’t fight it. If that was what it took for Reo to view you in a favorable light, then that was what it took. You didn’t have the room to complain, not in the slightest.

“Where should we go?” Tokimitsu said, cutting off Otoya before he could formulate a response. “I’m okay with anything.”

“Wait, what about Nagi? Isn’t he with you guys?” Reo said, and although he directed it to Isagi, you could feel your ears perking up at the mention of Nagi, who was another one of your favorite players, albeit not on the levels of Reo or Barou.

“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. He was met with a nod from Reo. “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 my girlfriend,” Karasu said, putting a particular emphasis on the last word and giving Aryu a dirty look when he did so.

“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,” your best friend said, although you knew she had no interest in rhyming ping-pong nor in an arcade day. The two of you had been friends for so long that you could read her easily, and today was no different; to you, if not to anyone else, it was painfully obvious that she was going along with Bachira’s plan only because she wanted to help you, because the prospect of Reo, Nagi, and Isagi all in one place was basically the biggest opportunity you had been presented with since she had approached you with the spare ticket to the game.

“Then I guess we’re off to the arcade,” Karasu 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 did as he commanded, allowing him to walk in front and breaking into smaller sub-groups as you made your way to the arcade. Your best friend hung back with Karasu, as was to be expected, while Yukimiya joined Reo so that they could actually talk about the economics of Blue Lock, which was what they had planned to do during the meeting that you had crashed. Aryu and Tokimitsu flanked you as Aryu described every single step he took in the shower, and a few paces behind you, Chigiri and Bachira argued over which arcade games were the most fun to play. Isagi was doing his best to mediate, while Otoya was egging them both on in turn, because of course he was.

He was such a contrary person. One wouldn’t expect it just from looking at him, but he really was that sort, always itching for some kind of discord, some kind of chaos — he must’ve thrived in it. No wonder he was so fond of banging into your life in his ungraceful way; he probably derived something like entertainment from it.

“Did you get that, Y/N?” Aryu said. You had reached the door to the arcade, and he was looking at you expectantly. You had been too taken with listening to Chigiri, Bachira, Isagi, and Otoya to actually comprehend what Aryu was saying, and you squirmed under the weight of his gaze, which had the kind of gravity to it that made you think he was privy to some information that he didn’t plan on sharing but which he found entirely amusing regardless.

“Yes, of course,” you said, and even though the lie was entirely unconvincing, he only nodded, sweeping inside of the arcade without another word.

At first, it seemed like Reo must’ve gotten the wrong location, but then, rounding the corner, you saw Nagi sitting at one of the booths, controls in his hands, his sweet face scrunched into a frown as he shot down the enemy NPCs without flinching. You all waited for a second, but when he didn’t notice you standing behind him, Karasu wrestled him into a headlock with a chuckle.

“There you are, pain-in-the-ass gamer prince!” he said, messing with Nagi’s 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, pinching the bridge of his nose in a manner not too dissimilar to an exhausted mother. “Classic Nagi.”

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

“Okay!” Tokimitsu said. You watched them go before trying to come up with something that you could do without embarrassing yourself. You weren’t the best with the arcade games, so you didn’t want to go for one of the complicated machines that Nagi seemed to prefer, because the likelihood that you’d just look like a fool in front of him was high.

“I’m heading over to the claw machine,” you said, as that was likely a safe bet, and in a worst-case scenario, you would at least get a plushie out of it. “Wanna come?”

You were talking to your best friend, but for some reason, Karasu, Aryu, and Otoya took this as an open invitation, coming along with you as you navigated towards the claw machine. You wrinkled your nose, because you had been hoping to have a moment alone to regroup and perhaps get another one of your best friend’s pep talks, which would’ve done a world of good for your rapidly dwindling confidence, yet now the very cause of your stress was strolling along at Karasu’s side without a care in the world.

In the middle of the claw machine was a panda plushie, and your eyes widened when you realized how similar it was to the one you had slept with all through your childhood. Your mother had accidentally thrown it away when your family had moved, right after you graduated elementary school, and although she had apologized fervently and scoured the internet for a suitable replacement, she had never managed to find one quite like it. You had long ago pushed it aside, pretending like you didn’t care, but now that you were faced with a near-replica, you were surprised to find your heart was twinging at the familiarity.

Your first attempt was, unfortunately, an abysmal failure. The claw gave out right before you were able to drop the plushie in the chute, probably because you were out of practice, as you didn’t typically go to the arcade unless you were forced to. Your hands must’ve wavered, your grip too weak or arms too unsteady; brushing it off, you took a deep breath and inserted another quarter into the machine, rolling your shoulders before trying again.

However, your second attempt went much like the first, the panda rolling back into the pile with the rest, its gleaming black-button eyes peering at you innocently, its paws perched atop the head of a brown dog. You swallowed, and even though you should’ve by all rights given up by now, you were so attached to the idea of this plushie that you couldn’t bring yourself to. Dropping your last quarter into the slot, you thought that there was a real merit to that old saying — third time’s the charm, or whatever.

Yet, inexplicably, the exact same thing happened again. Just a few centimeters too early, the claw gave out, leaving you out of quarters and without a plushie alike.

“This has got to be rigged!” you said, smacking the glass of the machine and glaring accusingly at the panda. There was no way you had failed three times. You weren’t the greatest, but you weren’t nearly that bad! The only explanation was that the arcade had somehow tampered with the machine so that nobody could get any of the prizes.

“Move out of the way,” Otoya said, nudging you and taking the controls with the kind of ease that could only be borne of deep familiarity. You gaped at him, too confused to yell at him for his rude takeover and the way his upper arm was pressing against your own. “Let me show you how the masters get it done.”

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

“Girls love it when you win stuffed animals for them,” Otoya said, fishing out a quarter from his coat pocket and inserting it into the machine. “Check out my flow!”

You were dumbfounded as he grabbed the exact plushie you wanted within seconds, expertly maneuvering it towards the chute with an intense kind of concentration.

“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,” your best friend breathed. She wasn’t wrong, exactly — Otoya was skillful, his fingers stable and face blank as he ensured the plushie was perfectly within the grasp of the claw. You would’ve complimented him if it wasn’t so infuriating that he was good at this, too.

“Stop shaking the machine, idiots, you’ll make him mess up,” Karasu said, pulling the two of them away by the backs of their collars, although he, too, seemed enthralled by Otoya’s prowess.

Right before the machine went dark and his turn ended, he lined the claw up with the chute, pressing the release button and snickering when the plushie dropped down it perfectly, without even a catch. Bending over to retrieve it, he brandished it in front of him, his expression unchanging, bar for a slight glimmer in his eyes.

“Bam,” he said, tossing it at you. “Ninja skills.”

It hit you in the face and fell to the ground, which drew a chuckle out of Karasu and was the cherry on the top of the entire event. How was it that you hadn’t managed to even get close, and yet Otoya had done it so effortlessly? He was completely unfazed, watching you as you crouched to pick up the panda, tucking it under your arm and praying your face conveyed the depths of your displeasure.

“You better not find yourself anywhere near the dartboards!” you said, already fantasizing about all of the things you could do with a set of darts and a target shaped like him. “I’m warning you, I have a bad aim, so look out!”

With that, you decided to join the darts competition Bachira had set up, hugging your stuffed animal as you stomped off, keeping your fingers crossed that Otoya would get the hint and stay far, far away from you for the rest of the day.

When you reached the area where the darts were being played, you were treated with two separate versions of the game being conducted concurrently. To the left, Nagi was standing in front of the board, his arms spread and his back to Bachira, Isagi, and Chigiri as the three of them took turns throwing darts in his direction, apparently to ‘punish’ him for standing them up or something.

“Hey, Y/N!” This was Tokimitsu, who was in the game on the right, along with Yukimiya and Reo. “Do you want to play with us?”

“If you guys don’t mind,” you said, waiting for Reo’s response specifically, thinking that this would probably be a good way of judging what he thought of you.

“Not at all!” Yukimiya said.

“It’s a bit late, but darts isn’t the kind of game where that matters,” Reo said.

“We’re not keeping score too closely, anyways,” Tokimitsu said. “So it’s not a problem!”

“If that’s the case, then sure,” you said. You had nothing better to do, and even though Reo was obviously lukewarm about you joining, Yukimiya and Tokimitsu, at least, seemed happy about your arrival, so you vowed to stay close to them for the most part.

“Who’s up next?” Reo said.

“It’s my turn, but I don’t mind if Y/N takes it,” Yukimiya said, smiling at you kindly and handing you a dart. You took it gratefully, squinting one eye closed and throwing it at the board, cheering when it hit one of the rings with a higher point value.

“Nice job!” Tokimitsu said.

“Yes, well done,” Reo said. “If you had been playing from the start, you’d probably be in the lead.”

“Thanks!” you said, stepping backwards so Yukimiya had space to go. “I was at the claw machine for a bit, which is why I’m late.”

“Is that where you got that stuffed animal?” Reo said, pointing at the panda you were cradling. Delighted by the chance to actually have a conversation with him, you nodded eagerly.

“Yes! I actually used to have one just like this when I was kid, but it ended up in the trash a while back. Seeing it here in the arcade was kind of like destiny in that sense,” you said.

“You must be really good at the claw machine if you managed to get something that big,” Reo said, writing down Yukimiya’s score and motioning for Tokimitsu to take his place. “I’ve been here with Nagi before, and it’s almost definitely rigged or something. Neither of us have ever won anything from it.”

“Isn’t it?” you said, overjoyed by his admission that both he and Nagi had struggled as well. “Well, actually, I wasn’t able to do it myself, so Otoya had to…but all’s well that ends well, right?”

Reo actually laughed at this, handing the scorecard to Yukimiya. You blinked, wondering what he possibly could’ve found funny in that, but he didn’t elaborate much, beyond simply saying: “Otoya, huh?”

“I guess he’s not entirely useless,” you said. “But that’s a single redeeming quality in a whole host of negative ones, so it doesn’t change anything.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, and you didn’t know why, but funnily enough, it sounded like he didn’t believe you in the slightest.

At some point in the tournament, your best friend and Karasu wandered over to where you were, taking in the scenery while doing their level best not to be the second-most disgusting couple to ever walk the face of this planet — the first, of course, being Otoya and whatever girl he had gone to that movie with.

“Who’s winning?” your best friend said.

“I think Yuki is up right now,” Reo said after evaluating the tally marks on the scorecard. “Although Tokimitsu’s catching up. It’s super close. Could be anyone’s game.”

“Now that you’re here, though, let’s go play rhyming ping-pong!” Bachira said, dropping the darts in his hands and batting his eyelashes at your best friend, who had after all promised she’d play with him.

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

“Nagi, for one,” Bachira said. You hoped that he didn’t volunteer you to be Nagi’s partner; as much as you would’ve loved to be associated with him in that way, you were awful at ping-pong, and you sensed that dragging Nagi down in a match against his friends wasn’t exactly the way to his heart.

“I don’t want to,” Nagi said. Bachira teasingly waved a dart towards him, which made Nagi’s sleepy frown deepen and his shoulders slump. “Okay, I will.”

“Then Tabito can be your teammate,” your best friend said.

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

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

“That’s right!” Bachira said, high-fiving her and then dashing ahead as you all made your way over to where the ping-pong tables were at various speeds. You didn’t have any particular desire to get there before anyone else, so you walked at a leisurely pace, finding yourself alongside Hyoma Chigiri, whose older sister you had sat with during Blue Lock’s game against the U-20s. You and your best friend had kept in touch with Koyuki in the days following the match, so Hyoma seemed like far more of a friendly face than the rest, even though you had never actually met him.

“My sister told me that the two of you are friends,” he said when he noticed that you both had fallen into step. “It’s nice to meet you…Y/N?”

“Yup, and likewise! Your sister is very sweet,” you said, and you weren’t just saying that to be polite — Koyuki had been kind enough to listen to your ramblings, although you had hardly known one another at the time, and even now she would check in and ask you how things were going with regards to your quest for a boyfriend.

“She is,” Chigiri said, leaning on the wall next to you as you watched Karasu, Bachira, Nagi, and your best friend get into position for rhyming ping-pong.

“Are we starting?” Nagi said.

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

“Not really,” Nagi said, and his dour voice suggested he didn’t much care, either.

“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,” your best friend said, tossing her hair. “I’m first in the class for Modern Literature, so I know a lot of words.”

“Don’t underestimate Nagi,” Reo said, his pointer finger in the air for emphasis. “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,” you said, glancing between the two teams. On the one hand, there was Nagi, who, while no Reo, was certainly someone you’d never mind dating, but on the other, there was your best friend, who you had known for years. “Who do I root for?”

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

“You wouldn’t get it,” you said, rolling your eyes, though it was mostly without malice. After all, it wasn’t like you wanted Chigiri to get it — the last thing you needed was Nagi finding out you thought he was attractive. You were fairly certain that that wouldn’t go well, especially if he came to know of it from someone else.

“Hmph,” Chigiri said. “Whatever.”

“Okay, are both sides ready?” Yukimiya said. He was the most impartial, given that he was friends with pretty much everyone on an equal level, so he had been chosen as the referee. Both teams 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 as you and Chigiri burst into laughter. “Out! Team Bachira wins!”

“What was that?” Karasu screeched as Bachira cheered before hurriedly saying something about karaoke and disappearing with Isagi and Reo.

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

“Not really. I just didn’t wanna play,” Nagi said.

“Is he always like this?” you whispered to Yukimiya as Karasu grabbed Nagi in his second headlock of the day. Nagi, for his part, was entirely unruffled, hanging limply in Karasu’s arms like a rag-doll.

“Nagi? Yeah, pretty much,” Yukimiya said. “He means well, but he’s generally one of the most unmotivated people you’ll meet. It’s not to say he isn’t kind or anything; he’s sweet, just lazy.”

“I see,” you said, weighing whether this trait could be considered endearing or irritating.

“Can we go see what Reo and the others are doing?” Nagi said, cutting into the conversation with a yawn.

“Bachira said they were going for karaoke,” your best friend reminded everyone. “Maybe we should find Otoya and Aryu before joining them, though.”

“How about just Aryu?” you suggested, cheering up at the prospect of ditching Otoya for good and leaving him stranded in the arcade.

“I’ll text them,” Yukimiya said, just as the door creaked open. You sighed when Otoya peeked his head in, which earned you a slight eye roll from him but nothing more.

“No need. We’ve been looking for you guys for a while,” he said.

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

“Sorry!” Tokimitsu said, covering his eyes with his hands in shame. Aryu patted him on the head comfortingly.

“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 declared as you walked towards where Isagi, Reo, and Bachira were apparently setting up for the rest of you.

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

“What song?” Tokimitsu said, in a rare show of unwavering confidence — although he immediately winced, which kind of detracted from the unprecedented lack of stuttering and apologizing.

“Something with a lot of belting,” Otoya mused. You cringed at the mental image; you had heard Karasu sing before, and it wasn’t pretty. You doubted Otoya was any better, and if anything he was likely worse, so the thought of the two of them screaming out the lyrics to My Heart Will Go On or something like that was akin to torture.

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

“Wait a second,” your best friend said, right before either Karasu or Otoya could retort. “Hey, Tabito, Yukimiya — isn’t that Aiku from the U-20 squad?”

“Huh?” Karasu 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,” Karasu said, cracking his knuckles in what I was sure he thought was a menacing move.

“A fight?” Nagi said, which was the most interested you had ever heard him be in anything. He gazed at the U-20 squad with large, sleepy eyes, cocking his head slightly when they scowled back.

“Could be. I’m stoked,” Otoya said, and then, in an act beyond your comprehension, he struck what you could only describe as a pose from a ninja anime. You took it in with amazement, waiting for him to blush or realize what a clown he looked like, but when he did not, you dissolved into a fit of giggles, unable to take him seriously — not that you took him seriously in the first place, but this was just another addition to the long list of reasons why he was an idiot.

“Need backup, Isagi?” Yukimiya said, and although he was inadvertently threatening the others, the genial smile on his face didn’t drop for a second. “We’ve got you.”

“Ah, but don’t expect anything from me!” your best friend said with a peace sign. “I’ll cheer for you from the corner, though.”

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

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” he said. You almost felt bad for him, considering how busy he had been defending his relationship to the rest, but then you remembered that he was friends with Otoya and figured that this was just his karma.

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

“What are you all doing here?” another one of the U-20 boys said. You didn’t remember his name, as you hadn’t paid attention to any of the others on the field during the game; it was probably something irrelevant, though, or else it would’ve been mentioned.

“Likely the same thing as you,” Chigiri said, which really should’ve been obvious.

“But in a more glam way, naturally,” Aryu added. This wasn’t quite as obvious, considering you still didn’t really understand what he meant when he talked about ‘glam’, but it was probably his way of complimenting you all, so you didn’t argue.

“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 said, lifting his hands in the air as a calming gesture. “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,” your best friend, who was the first to jump to insults but tended to cower from violence, agreed.

“Same,” you said before a genius idea occurred to you. “Though I wouldn’t mind too much if you roughed Otoya up a bit…”

“Hey!” Otoya said, straightening and turning to face you, his brows low over his eyes. You folded your arms over your chest and waited for him to say something further, but evidently, he decided it wasn’t worth it, because with a scoff, he turned his attention back to the others.

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

With that, you all trudged to the nearby bowling alley. Your best friend was talking to Karasu, so you were left to shove your hands in your pockets and wander along by yourself as you often did, your thoughts going down trailing paths, the silence serving as an effective conduit.

In the time you had been hanging out with the Blue Lock players, what had you really accomplished? The only ones who could stand you were the ones you would not or could not date; the ones you were actually interested in obviously wanted nothing to do with you, and in truth, you couldn’t blame them.

Raising the panda plushie Otoya had won for you up in the air, you waited for its shiny black eyes to reflect some kind of answer to you. Of course, they didn’t, so with a heavy exhale, you held it to your chest, tucking your chin over it, thinking that maybe the steady pressure would dissipate the choking sensation creeping into your throat.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the bowling alley was that, right next to the lane that Karasu and the others had picked for you, there was a boy bowling all on his own. His enormous back was to you all, but there was something familiar about his spiky dark hair, and when he successfully got a strike and turned to retrieve a new ball, you gasped.

“Psst!” you said, shaking your best friend on the shoulder. “Check it out! It’s Shoei Barou!”

“He’s bowling all by himself?” she said, not even questioning you. “Huh, that’s a little startling. The more you know, I guess.”

“It’s kind of cute, if I’m being honest,” you said, trying to come up with the words to explain what you meant. “Like, oh my gosh, you’re a friendless loner! I need you so badly.”

That made sense enough in your mind, but your best friend clearly wasn’t impressed. That was probably a good thing; from what you had heard, it usually didn’t go well when two friends liked the same guy, and you were glad that your entirely opposite tastes meant you avoided that situation entirely, even if it did lead to this type of disconnect every now and again.

“There’s a lid for every pot,” she said eventually. “Well, what’s your plan? You’ve got Reo, Barou, Nagi, and Isagi all in one room. Who’re you going to go for?”

You were about to tell her that it didn’t matter — that no matter who you went for, the outcome would likely be the same, but she looked so happy that you couldn’t bring yourself to. After all, she had given up an entire day with her boyfriend just to help you, and the thought of how crestfallen she’d be if you just gave up was crushing. She’d never say anything, of course she wouldn’t, but even if she thought it for a moment, it would be enough to make you feel guilty for months. It wasn’t her fault you were such a failure at — at everything.

“Let’s weigh the pros and cons. That should help us come to a proper conclusion,” you said. It was the best thing you could think of. Perhaps she’d even be able to come up with something that you hadn’t yet considered, in which case you were all ears.

“Got it,” she said. “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.”

That was about what you were thinking, but coming from her, it all sounded even worse. Koyuki had cheered you up during the game, but she couldn’t change the truth of the matter, which was that you had never had a chance in the first place. Whatever additional luck you had gained via your connection to Karasu was canceled out by Otoya’s presence, and so it was with trepidation that you next spoke.

“And, uh, the pros?”

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

“That’s it?” you said. If even she with her keen eye hadn’t been able to pick up anything that was actually in your favor, then you supposed you might as well just give up now and go home. A nap in your bed, your actual bed, not the one you were sleeping in at your aunt’s place, was sounding more and more appealing, least of all because you could cry there where no one would hear you.

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

“What do I do, then?” you said. Your voice sounded too close to hinting at what you were really feeling, so you forced yourself to dramatize your feelings, romanticize them, the way you always did. “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,” she said, meaning you had been successful. “There’s always Aiku. He seems like he’d take anything on legs for a date or two.”

Aiku was standing next to Otoya, which completely detracted from his handsome face, and the two of them were flirting with a pair of girls, which completely detracted from his kind personality. He was exactly the kind of guy you had been told to avoid for as long as you could remember, and you exchanged looks with your best friend.

“I’d rather die alone,” you said, only half in jest.

“That kind of relationship wouldn’t last,” she 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 may be right about that,” you said, following after her as she made her way to where Karasu, Barou, and the others were sitting, vowing that you would do everything in your power to make it work out this time. Maybe Reo was lost cause, and maybe Nagi and Isagi were, too, but Barou couldn’t be. He couldn’t be.

All you had to do was avoid Otoya, and given the size of the bowling alley, that wouldn’t be too difficult. Yes, you could do that, and then—

“You’re the girls from the edits!”

You stopped in your tracks as someone tapped you on the shoulder, her eyes sparkling as she looked at you with her hands clasped together.

“Yeah, we are,” your best friend said in response to the other girl, who was the one that had spoken. You chanced a glance at Aiku and Otoya, who both looked more than a little angry that you had accidentally interrupted their attempts at getting dates, and then a pit opened up in your stomach as the second half of that duo registered in your mind. Otoya. You had somehow happened upon the very person you had sworn, not even a few seconds ago, to avoid like the plague, lest you embarrass yourself in front of Barou, too.

“No way!” the girl in front of you said. “You and your boyfriend are my sister and her boyfriend’s profile pictures!”

At first, you thought she must be talking to your best friend, but when she kept her attention on you, you bit your lower lip, trying to discern what she meant.

“Boyfriend?” you said unsurely. “I’m single, though?”

Single against your will, of course, but nevertheless single, which was why you were so puzzled.

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

“No!” you and Otoya said at the same time, understanding crashing over you like a tidal wave. When you noticed that he, too, had denied it, and rather vehemently at that, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Wait, I didn’t recognize you because of the hat, but you’re the confused player that she flipped off!” the girl said to him. “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,” your best friend 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!” she said before dashing off, right as you finished processing the girl’s request.

“You…want me to take a picture…with him?” you said.

“The sentiment is mutual,” Otoya said.

“Yes, please!” the girl said.

“But why?” you said, looking over your shoulder towards where Barou was standing and yelling at Nagi. He took no note of you, but who knew how long that would last? How long would it take before he saw you doing something stupid, as you were apparently prone to doing when you were around Otoya?

“Just be quick,” Otoya said, standing stiffly beside you and plastering a smile on his face. Out of the corner of his mouth, he muttered to you, “Come on, let’s get this over with. They’ll make a big deal out of it if we don’t.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you said through your teeth, pretending to grin as the girl took out her phone and began to take photos of you, cooing all the while. “You’re just going along with it because you want her.”

“So what?” he said.

“Could the two of you get closer?” she said. “It doesn’t even look like you like each other.”

“Yeah, normally when people flip each other off, that’s the reason,” you said as Otoya wrapped an arm around your shoulders. It was heavy and warm, and to boot, he smelled pleasantly sweet, not like grass at all. You couldn’t explain it, but for some reason, that was the most upsetting news you had ever received, so you wiggled out of his embrace, stepping on his foot for good measure. “Ugh, get off of me!”

“What is your problem?” he said.

“You better stay a minimum of two bodies away from me at all times, you contagious little spore! I don’t want to be infected with the green hair disease!” you snapped.

“There’s so many things wrong with what you just said, I’m not sure where I should begin,” he said. “For one, I may have been a horrible student, but even I know that hair color isn’t contagious!”

“Oh, you didn’t need to mention that you were a horrible student, it’s more than clear!” you said, aware even as you said it that you were doing it again. What was it about him, that you were driven to such irrationality? What was it about Otoya that made you act this way, and why couldn’t you stop? Whatever it was, it only made you hate him more.

“As clear as your inability to get a boyfriend?” he said. “Because that’s pretty clear.”

“Uh, I think we have enough pictures,” the girl said nervously, although she went ignored by you and Otoya alike.

“Seriously?” you said. “Well, you—!”

“Alright, guys, enough causing a scene,” a soft voice said, and then there were warm hands clasping your shoulders. “Come on…Y/N, was it? Barou’s making me get drinks for everyone before I leave, so help me carry them back. Otoya, Yukimiya’s looking for you. I think he has to ask you something.”

“Ah, sure, Isagi,” Otoya said, padding over to where the others were sitting and attempting to school their expressions into masks of indifference from the varying degrees of shock they had been twisted into. Isagi waited for him to be seated before steering your around the corner, and you were too astonished to protest as you got into the soda line.

“You’re a funny person,” Isagi said as you waited in the queue. “I can’t believe how much you detest Otoya. It’s almost out of the realms of probability. Did you guys date before or something?”

“Don’t flatter him,” you said, albeit weakly, your head spinning at how carried away you had gotten. “He’d never be so fortunate.”

“Hm,” Isagi said. “So it’s just a commonplace dislike.”

“Pretty much,” you said.

“Maybe a little more than commonplace,” he added with a wry smirk. “I don’t think that a typical enmity leads to a shouting match in a bowling alley.”

“Were we shouting?” you said.

“Otoya’s pretty quiet, so for him, yeah, I’d say it was,” Isagi said. “You know, it’s kind of incredible that you’re able to rile him up like that.”

“Why is that?” you said.

“We like to joke that Otoya’s face is made of stone,” Isagi mused. “Not in the way that Rin’s is, because that’s an entirely different scenario, but he’s just so unflappable that it’s rare to see him as anything but straight-faced. He’s the go-with-the-flow type, and he doesn’t care enough about anything to ever raise his voice. The fact that you make him mad is really something.”

“My secret talent,” you said, pretending to chuckle. “Pissing Otoya off almost as much as he pisses me off. It’s only fair; I mean, he keeps ruining things for me, so the least he can do is be bothered for it in return.”

Miraculously, Isagi didn’t question what you meant by that. He only nodded, reading off the names of the drinks Barou had written for him in a list and handing them to you, telling you to hang in there and then slipping out of the alley before you could ask him what you were supposed to be hanging in there for.

“Isagi’s right,” Karasu said the next day, after you had recounted the events in the bowling alley. Using his straw to stir the leftovers of your best friend’s milkshake, he took a contemplative sip. “Otoya really isn’t the kind of person who gets upset at anything, so it’s out of the ordinary for him to actually be mad at you.”

“I always knew you were special,” your best friend joked, biting off the end of a French fry. The two of them were sitting across from you at a restaurant near your aunt’s apartment, listening to your version of the argument you had had with Otoya and the mysterious words Isagi had left you with.

“I couldn’t tell you why, though,” Karasu said.

“Aren’t you guys best friends?” you said.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’ve known him for years or anything. Plus, I avoid talking about stuff like that with him. The more I learn about his habits with girls, the lower my opinion of him falls, so I try not to think about it, for the sake of our friendship and all,” Karasu said.

“Why’re you friends with him in the first place, then?” your best friend said.

“Believe it or not, he’s one of the saner people in Blue Lock. They were all being nice to you yesterday, but rest assured, they’re completely different on the field,” Karasu said.

“In a bad way?” you said.

“Majorly,” he said. “Speaking of which, I heard that you’re into Isagi and Barou?”

“Don’t forget Nagi and Reo,” your best friend added. Thankfully, Karasu didn’t tease you for the diverse set of options, only considering it carefully.

“You can give up on Nagi and Isagi. Not your fault, but they’re, uh…weird?” Karasu said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

“Let’s just say that neither of them are the type that I’d want anyone I know dating,” he said. “Nagi’s cute and all, but unless he really loves you, you’d end up being more of a mother than a girlfriend.”

“Automatic no,” your best friend. “What about Isagi? What’s wrong with him?”

“What isn’t wrong with him?” Karasu said rhetorically. When neither of you laughed, he pouted. “Never mind. Look, just trust me on that one.”

“That’s not an issue, though! Reo and Barou were her favorites to begin with,” your best friend said.

“You can’t really go wrong with either of them. Barou’s a major ass to play with, but he’s chill otherwise, I think,” Karasu said. His clinical analysis of your prospects was, in a way, comforting — he, at least, didn’t think you were entirely doomed. And wasn’t analysis his whole thing, anyways? So he was probably onto something here.

“Is there one that would be better than the other, though?” you said.

“Er, given recent events, maybe Barou might be a bit more of a blank slate. So to speak,” Karasu said. He didn’t mention Otoya, but all three of you knew that that was who he was referring to. You wondered if there’d ever be a time when you didn’t think of him so readily, when his name wasn’t linked with yours so inextricably, the way it was online, where the photos of you two together were already making the rounds.

“Barou’s a great choice!” your best friend said encouragingly. “He can probably carry you with one arm, remember?”

“Is that what you came to my game to talk about? You suck,” Karasu said, tsk’ing at your best friend. “But yes, as someone who’s had to train with Barou, he definitely could.”

“Wow,” you said.

“That’s what you said when you first saw him,” your best friend pointed out. “‘Wow.’ It’s basically your love language. Okay, Tabito! That’s settled, then. We’ll get Y/N and Barou to have a date whenever you’re on your next break from Blue Lock!”

“Don’t we have to ask Barou first?” you said.

“He’ll say yes, don’t worry,” Karasu said. “He’s not actually that popular. If he doesn’t, I’ll find someone else for you, don’t worry.”

“Someone good,” you said.

“Of course,” he said. “Whoever it is, I’ll probably have to go on double dates with them, so trust me, I’ll be picky.”

“Thanks,” you said, because Karasu actually was the persnickety type, so if he was promising it, then it would happen in that way.

The rest of the break flew by. In an effort to avoid third-wheeling your best friend and Karasu, you took to exploring Tokyo by yourself, sitting in cafes and catching up on your winter homework, studying for exams while sipping on tea in a window seat. Maybe it was a little lonely, but you liked it, and if anything, you were productive, which you couldn’t always say you were.

Before you knew it, you and your best friend were packing up to go home. As much as you had enjoyed your vacation and the time off from school, you were glad to be going back to normalcy — everything about the trip, especially the day you had spent with the Blue Lock boys, was more like a fever dream in hindsight. The only things reminding you that it was real were the stuffed panda sitting amongst the nest of pillows in your bed and the occasional comments from your classmates, who all found it as hard to believe as you did that you were some kind of internet micro-celebrity.

“You’re the last person I would’ve expected to become famous by accident,” one of Karasu’s teammates from the high school club told you, the first day you were back at school. Even though Karasu himself was gone, his teammates and friends still sat with you and your best friend’s group. You all had amalgamated into a larger collective at some point, and even though you weren’t particularly close with any of them, you’d still count them as more than acquaintances.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you said.

“Look, all I’m saying is her, I get,” he said, pointing at your best friend. “But you’ve always been way happier just hanging out in the background and letting other people be the center of attention.”

“Maybe I want to be the center of attention every now and then,” you said placidly, without a hint of sharpness.

“You? No way,” he said, guffawing as if it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “That was funny, Y/N.”

“Ha, ha,” you said. “Anyways, like you said, it was by accident. Most of the blame can be assigned to that squeezed-out tube of toothpaste, Otoya.”

“Are you talking about Otoya?” another one of your friends said with a squeal, leaning away from your best friend and fluttering her eyelashes at you. “Y/N, you’re insanely lucky. He’s so cute.”

“Seriously?” you said. “You watched the entire game and decided that he was the one? You need your eyes checked if that’s the case.”

“He’s really good-looking!” she insisted. “If you don’t want him, I’ll gladly take him.”

“He’s all yours,” you said. “And don’t ever suggest I might want him again.”

It was a couple of months later that your best friend told you the Blue Lock boys were going on break again, and that this time, unlike the last, you had a confirmed reason to go along with her to meet Karasu — Shoei Barou had agreed to take you out for a date.

“There’s no way!” you said, holding your phone in between your ear and your shoulder as you threw as many clothes as you could fit into your small suitcase. “I mean, seriously, how did Karasu convince him?”

“He didn’t have to try very hard,” your best friend said. “It’s like he mentioned: Barou’s not actually that popular. I mean, after the Neo-Egoist League, yeah, he has a lot of fans, but back when he was in high school, he didn’t have too many friends, so as soon as Karasu brought it up, he was alright with it.”

“That makes sense,” you said, butterflies beating frantic wings into your intestines as you wrapped a pair of shoes in plastic and tucked them into your bag’s front pocket. “Tell Karasu I said thank you.”

“You can thank him by being normal at your dinner with Barou,” she said.

“Wait!” you said. “What am I even supposed to do when I’m on the date?”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Like, what do I talk about? What do I order? What do I do with my hands while I’m sitting there? How long should I hold eye contact? Actually, should I even be holding eye contact in the first place?” you said.

“First of all, you need to relax. Especially for a first date, you’re just trying to get to know him, so think about it like hanging out with a friend and go from there. If the two of you get along, then things will flow naturally and you won’t have to think about all of this stuff,” she said.

“And if we don’t?” you said. She didn’t answer, and after a second, you snorted. “Okay, sorry, dumb question.”

“Very much so. If you don’t get along, then it’s no big deal. We’ll find someone else and work from there, but first, do me a favor: don’t go into things with any expectations, because one thing I can say for certain is that absolutely nothing will go the way you want it to — for better or for worse,” she said.

“That makes me feel worse than I did when I called you,” you said.

“I know, but it’s the truth. Like I said, it’s not always a bad thing. In fact, it’s usually good; life has a funny way of working itself out, in my experience, but that means you have to trust that whatever’s happening to you is happening for a reason,” she said.

“What if it’s hard, though? And what if the things that are happening are terrible?” you said.

“Sometimes they are,” she said thoughtfully. “But you have to get through those types of situations, too, or else you’ll never get to the good part.”

Her final exam had been rescheduled, so she would be joining you and the others in the city a couple of days later than originally anticipated, meaning that you would have to get ready and go on your date without her helping you through it. She had apologized countless times, and Karasu had even offered to ask Barou if he was willing to change your plans, but you had assured both that it was alright, even if you were panicking internally. You wanted her to do well on her test, and you didn’t want to be too much of a pain to Barou, for fear that he would give up on you entirely instead of just switching the day of the reservation.

The restaurant was fancier than you had expected, and you tugged at your sleeves, adjusting your shirt, even though nothing was wrong with it. Averting your eyes from the hostess who led you back to the table where Barou was already waiting, you slid into your chair and grabbed a menu to hide your face behind.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you said, even though it was 7:00 exactly, which was when Karasu had told you the reservation was for.

“It’s okay,” Barou said. “I ordered water for us both. I hope that’s alright.”

“Perfectly fine,” you said. “Have you been here before?”

“No, but it has high ratings online, and it’s close to the area where Karasu said you’re staying, so I thought it was a safe bet,” he said. Nothing about his voice nor yours was natural, and after that, the two of you fell silent entirely. You obsessively read and reread the menu, although you had decided a while back what you wanted to order, and Barou picked at invisible bits of skin on his nails, his lips pursed all the while.

For years and years, you had dreamt of what your first date would be like. You had spent so long waiting to find the perfect person, the perfect guy to be your boyfriend, and now here he was, sitting right across from you, and yet neither of you could muster up a single word to say to each other.

Even the waitress seemed weirded out when she came to drop off your waters and ask what you wanted to eat. You both started to speak at the same time, stopping and looking at each other unsurely before Barou motioned for you to go first. Once you were done, the waitress repeated your orders with a hint of incredulity. You were sure that, as soon as she got to the kitchen, she’d launch into a story about the strange couple at the table in the corner that refused to talk to one another, tittering with amusement at the bizarreness of it all. It was what you would do, if you were in her place.

“We’ve been having good weather lately,” you said when the quiet became too unbearable. “The winter was so cold, but it’s better now.”

“I’ve been inside the facility,” Barou reminded you. “So I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” you said. “Right.”

“It is lovely out, though,” he said.

“Yeah,” you said. “Warm.”

“Exactly,” he said, and then neither of you continued with the pitiful attempt at conversation, both waiting for the other to do something until the waitress returned with your food and you were blissfully given an excuse to keep your mouth shut.

You ate as quickly as you could, blotting at your lips with a napkin periodically and handling your fork and knife without much finesse. Barou was the opposite, cutting his food up into meticulous pieces and taking small bites, chewing each carefully and thoroughly before swallowing. You were almost fascinated by the delicacy, which was so unlike everything you had expected from him that you couldn’t reconcile the version of him that you thought you knew and the one you were presented with.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quickly,” you said when you were finished with your meal and Barou was about three-quarters of the way through. He nodded, clearly relieved — at this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if he just wanted to eat his food in peace, without your fumbling presence bringing down his mood.

The bathroom was down a hallway, with the women’s room to the right and the men’s directly across from it. You didn’t actually have to use it, but you just wanted some time away from the oppressive, hefty awkwardness that was your date, so you stood in front of a well-lit mirror and fiddled with your appearance, fixing minor imperfections that nobody else would notice but served as a way for you to waste time.

When you could find nothing else to mess with, you pulled out your phone and texted your best friend a sad face. You’d explain it to her later, when she was finally here, but for now, that would have to be enough to sum up your night.

Washing your hands to rinse off the stickiness that being in a public bathroom always made you imagine, you dried them before using your shoulder to open the door, your phone in your hands as you saw your best friend had already responded with a question mark and a ‘do you want to talk about it’.

You were just about to reply to her that you would, but your inattention led you to running face-first into someone as they exited the men’s bathroom. Your phone slipped from your hands, bouncing onto the plush carpet and landing right at the feet of the person you had crashed into; you thought that you might as well die from shame instead of stooping over to retrieve it, because that really seemed like the more palatable path at the moment.

“I am so sorry!” you said, squatting to grab your phone, because dying wasn’t really an option and it would be worse if you just stood there.

“No worries,” he said, already scooping it up and extending his hand towards you before freezing, your phone still dangling in his grasp. “Hold on a second. Y/N?”

Your jaw dropped as you locked eyes with Otoya, who was, for some reason, standing across from you in the dim corridor, your phone in his hands and his eyebrows raised. A million questions crossed your mind just then: what was he doing here? Why now? Was he with someone, and if so, who? But one was forefront, and before you could stop yourself, you were grabbing onto his shoulders, your fingertips digging into the fabric of his white shirt, wrinkling it into small divots.

“You,” you said. “Why are you always around when things go wrong?”

“What?” he said, the way he always said everything: detached, airy, and vaguely condescending. “I don’t even know what problems you’re having right now, so how do they have anything to do with me?”

“It’s not — you don’t cause them!” you said. “You’re just…always there for them. You know how some people have a good luck charm?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, you’re my bad luck charm! You cause me difficulties without even trying, and the worst part is that I can’t even do anything about it, because you’re always there. You keep appearing! Why the hell are you even here in the first place?” you said, and then tears were pricking at your eyes, because logically, you knew Otoya was right. He had nothing to do with the fact that Barou didn’t like you, that was your fault and your fault alone, but wasn’t it easier to blame him? He was always there. He was always easier to point a finger at than yourself.

“I’m having dinner with my sister,” he said, slowly and mockingly, like you were a small child. “What about you, hm? Eating alone?”

“I—”

“Otoya?”

Before you could explain anything, you were cut off by a perplexed Barou, who was looking at you and Otoya, obviously lost by what, exactly, he was faced with. Only a second later, you understood that the position you were in was the slightest bit compromising, so you dropped your hands from his shoulders, taking a step back and brushing yourself off hastily.

“Barou?” Otoya said. “What are you doing here? Is this some kind of reunion that I’ve stumbled on? Where are the others?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Barou said.

“We’re on a date, you overgrown caterpillar,” you muttered under your breath. “Now can you fuck off?”

“A date?” he said. When Barou didn’t deny it, he chuckled. “Yikes, I’m sorry for interrupting, then — although, I wouldn’t have, if someone was watching where they were going when they were leaving the bathroom.”

“I’m sure your sister is waiting for you, so how about you get back to her and leave us alone?” you said, your smile sickly sweet. “And give me my phone back.”

“Have fun, you two,” Otoya said, dropping it into your waiting palm. “Y/N, try not to drive Barou insane, yeah? We need him to play in the U-20 World Cup.”

“Go play with box dye or whatever it is you do in your free time,” you said. “Come on, Barou. Let’s go pay and get out of here.”

“I already did,” he said. “I was just coming over to use the bathroom myself while I waited for you to come back.”

“Ah,” you said as you made your way to the door. “How much was it? I don’t mind giving you my half.”

“Forget about it,” he said. “I’m the one who asked you on a date, technically, so I’m the one who should pay.”

“Not like I was much of a date,” you said.

“Not like I was much of one, either,” he countered. “I doubt we said a total of fifty words to each other combined.”

“I’m not good at talking to people,” you said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“You certainly didn’t have any problems talking with Otoya,” he said.

“What?” you said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to mean,” he said. “How am I supposed to know? It’s just an observation. I’m not mad about it or anything, so don’t take it the wrong way.”

“You’re the one who said it, so I feel like if anyone were to know, it’d be you,” you said. “But anyways, whatever you’re thinking, it’s incorrect. Simply put, Otoya’s an asshole. A major-league jerk. He’s annoying and rude and he always acts like he’s better than me, even though he isn’t, and he shows up at the worst moments just to cause problems for me, even unknowingly, and I’d be able to forgive him if it was just once, but it’s always! And you know what? He doesn’t ever apologize, either! He doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t even think he’s done anything wrong and he’s the worst, he’s totally the worst—”

Your indignant rant petered off when you saw that, to your horror, Barou was laughing. That was the most open you had seen him all night, and you were surprised to note that he looked different when he laughed. Kinder. Less severe. Like someone you might actually get along with, if you had met him without knowing who he was.

“That’s the most I’ve heard you say, maybe ever,” he elaborated.

“So?” you said.

“So nothing,” he said. “I’m washing my hands of this. Thank you for coming to dinner with me, Y/N. I wish you the best.”

“You, too,” you said, recognizing when to stop pushing. Barou clearly had no interest in explaining further, and in truth he probably couldn’t — he was the sort that didn’t understand emotions and relationships and other such sensitivities particularly well, at least according to Karasu. “Thank you, as well. I…had a nice night.”

Barou snorted at this before waving and telling you you should stop lying to yourself so much. You weren’t sure why he thought you were in the business of lying to yourself frequently, but he seemed convinced of it, which meant there was a chance you really were.

Your best friend and Karasu were sympathetic when they heard of how your date went, although when you mentioned Otoya, both of them exchanged looks that you could not decipher. You could not tease the meaning out of them, either, so you were left frustratingly in the dark, with only their assurances that it wasn’t anything bad.

After the disaster with Barou, you decided to swear off of dating until further notice. You doubted that there was anyone who would even want to date you, anyways, so it wasn’t a particularly difficult thing to do, and although you still felt envy stinging deep within you whenever you saw the relationships your friends were all building, you managed to choke it down far enough that you could pretend it wasn’t there.

“Y/N!” your mother shouted at you. It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you were lounging on the couch in your pajamas, watching a romance movie while eating your breakfast, since you had nothing better to do with your time. “Can you get the mail, please?”

“Sure!” you shouted back. She was expecting a check for some event she had worked at, so she had grown quite preoccupied with ensuring one of you got the mail as soon as it was delivered, and you supposed today was your turn.

Shoving your feet in a pair of slippers, you plodded down to the end of the driveway, opening the mailbox and rifling through the letters in the box in search of anything of note. For the most part, it was advertisements and newspapers, but at the very bottom of the pile, you noticed a cream envelope addressed to you.

“Was my check there?” your mother said as you returned to the house, dumping the stack of papers onto the counter and retrieving a letter-opener from the drawer it stayed in.

“Nope,” you said. “But this was.”

“What is that?” she said.

“No idea, but it says it’s for me,” you said, slicing the envelope open and unfolding its contents before frowning. “Oh.”

“What does that mean?” she said. You slid the letter across the counter to her.

“It’s an invite from the JFU,” you said. “To some ‘friends and family of Blue Lock’ gala thingie. I don’t know how I qualify as a friend or family of Blue Lock, though…”

“Maybe because you went to their first game, back against the U-20s?” your mother suggested. “They might’ve just invited everyone with seats in the Blue Lock section, given how small it was and how it was pretty much entirely family members. I doubt they were looking too closely at the names of the people they sent tickets to.”

“But that was almost two years ago, and I wasn’t there under my own name,” you said, before you immediately rolled your eyes at yourself. “Hold on. I think I know what’s happening here.”

Before she could question you further, you ran upstairs, clicking on your best friend’s contact and hitting the green call button next to her name. She picked up on the first ring, and she didn’t even wait for you to speak before bursting into laughter.

“Bitch,” you said. “Why’d you invite me to that shit?”

“I just explained to the JFU how I managed to attend a game twice,” she said innocently, although her continued laughter didn’t support her case much.

“There’s no way I’m going,” you said. “I think Blue Lock is bad for my health, or at least my pride.”

“I already told Karasu you would, and he told the others, who are all super excited to see you again!” she said.

“No, they’re not,” you said.

“Okay, well, maybe not all of them, but Tokimitsu, Aryu, Yukimiya, and Chigiri are,” she said.

“Really?” you said. “Oh. I guess if Karasu already told them I’d come, then it’ll be disappointing if I don’t.”

“Something like that, yes,” she said.

“But you still suck,” you said. “And I’m mad about it.”

“Mhm, whatever you say,” she said. “We can go shopping for clothes after lunch, if you want.”

��Fine,” you said. “I guess if you insist.”

“Yay!”

You had been expecting to have to tag along with your best friend and Karasu during the gala, given that you didn’t have a date nor any interest in procuring one, but to your surprise, none other than Aryu offered to accompany you.

“It’s just as friends, of course,” your best friend assured you as you opened yet another box of shoes, holding one against the dress you had bought and then putting it back without even trying it on when you found it didn’t quite match. “Aryu says he refuses to attend the gala with someone who doesn’t match his levels of…glam?”

“And he thinks I do?” you said.

“You have a simple, understated glam to you,” she said. “Direct quote, by the way. I have no idea what he meant, so don’t shoot the messenger.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a compliment?” you said. She shrugged.

“Nobody knows what he’s talking about half of the time,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, I think there’s nothing simple about your ‘glam.’”

“Thanks,” you said. “I appreciate it. Or, do I?”

“It’s a good thing,” she assured you, presenting you with a new box of shoes. “Try these on. They’ll go perfectly with the dress you got.”

“Woah,” you said when her words proved to be correct. “How’d you do that?”

“I’m pretty good at knowing what you need,” she said, patting you on the shoulder, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but it seemed to you that in that instant, she was talking about more than shoes.

The flash of cameras blinded you as Aryu helped you out of the sparkling white car, his fingers cold against your wrist, at odds with the warmth in his grin. You fought back the urge to squeeze your eyes closed, knowing that you’d look entirely stupid in the press coverage of the event if your lids were screwed shut, and instead you did your best to maintain a serene expression, your mouth curved at the edges and your brow free of creases. Aryu offered you his arm, and you took it without a second thought, although you did giggle when he winked at you so suggestively it could not be anything but a joke.

“Is this not the most glam moment of your life?” he said, leading you up the stairs of the hotel where the gala was being held. You shook your head in amusement, gripping his forearm as hard as you could to ensure you did not trip over the velvety carpet.

“I still don’t know what you mean by that,” you said.

“It’s a functional word,” he mused, pausing so that you could pose for pictures. You followed his lead for the most part, content with being a mere accessory to his splendor, his charming ease with the media. “Means whatever your heart says it means.”

“Then yes,” you said. “I’d say this is the most glam moment of my life.”

“Miss L/N! Miss L/N, a moment please!”

A microphone was shoved in your face before you knew what was happening, and you glanced at Aryu unsurely, wondering why you had been singled out amidst all of the players and their dates, many of whom were famous models, singers, and actresses. He shrugged at you, clearly as confused as you were, and then he knocked the microphone a little further away, so that it wasn’t all but up your nose.

“Uh, yes?” you said, playing with your fingers as you smiled at the interviewer. He was a middle-aged man, his hair grey at his temples, and his grin reminded you of a wide-mouthed whale.

“You’re here with Jyubei Aryu, correct?” he said.

“I am,” you said, even though you thought it should’ve been obvious you were.

“Who’s next on your list, then?” he said.

“What?” you said. The man leaned closer to you, holding the microphone to his lips, which were fat and trembling like slugs in repose.

“Which player will you toy with next?” he said.

“I’m not — toy with?” you sputtered, and it was only Aryu’s firm presence on your left which kept you from wavering. “What the hell are you—?”

“Will that be all, or do you have any actual questions to ask her?” Aryu said, cutting you off before you could say something terribly uncouth.

“Everyone is wondering!” the man defended, knuckles reddening around the microphone. “What are your thoughts, Aryu, sir? Are you aware of…it?”

“Of what? This ridiculous exchange?” Aryu said. “Unfortunately, I am, and furthermore, I’d like for it to be over.”

“No, the love affair between your date, Y/N L/N, and your own teammate — Eita Otoya!” he exclaimed.

“That’s none of my concern. Miss L/N agreed to come with me as a friend, so who she chooses to love is her business alone,” he said.

“Otoya?” you said. “You — I — there is no love affair!”

“There he is now,” the interviewer said with a smirk, dipped in oil and drowned in grease, lathered with satisfaction at your indignation. “You know, it seems to me like he’d disagree with that, Miss L/N.”

You shifted slightly, looking over your shoulder at the driveway, where a black car was driving off, its passenger already exited. Of course, there was your ghost, your familiar bad-luck charm, the one you could never escape from in any way that mattered, no matter how hard the both of you tried: Otoya, his hands in his pockets, his tie a pale green, the same pear shade as his eyes, which, uncomfortably and heavily, were trained on you.

Although he was at the bottom of the staircase and you were already almost at the top, you could see the way his expression was dancing, something no doubt playing at the tip of his tongue, something you wagered would be purposefully designed to infuriate you. You frowned at him, wishing he were closer, wishing he were at your side, even, so that you could tell him that he looked terrible, like a twig of mint sprung to life, that his hair was too messy for such an important event, falling haphazardly onto his pale forehead, and that he should’ve worn a darker tie, to match better with his suit.

“Come along, Y/N,” Aryu murmured, tugging you forwards and away from the interviewer, stealing your attention from Otoya. “Let’s go inside. It’s starting to rain.”

“Ah, right,” you said, shaking your head to clear it, allowing him to lead you into the hotel lobby, towards the hall where red roses bloomed in crystal vases upon the centers of the many white-draped tables. “I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“It’s supposed to stop in an hour or two. I’m sure it’ll be over by the time we’re leaving,” he said. “Which table are we, again?”

“8,” you said without even pulling your tickets out. You had memorized them two nights ago, front and back, in a fit of nerves. This was your first time at anything more fancy than your high school graduation; you had no idea what to expect, and, considering how things tended to go for you, you had randomly become convinced that it would turn out awful and you might as well skip the event entirely. You had woken up the next morning and felt marginally better, but the damage had been done and the images of the tickets were engraved into your mind.

“Wonderful,” Aryu said as you reached your table. “This is a nice location, so I’m pleased.”

“Y/N? Oh my goodness, hi!”

Before you could sit down, you were being tackled by a red blur. You grunted as you caught Koyuki Chigiri’s body in your arms, wrapping them around her waist subconsciously. She crushed you with more force than she should’ve been able to exert, given her slight frame, and you tucked your chin on her shoulder, glad for the familiar face.

“Hi, Koyuki. Are you sitting here, too?” you said when she finally let you go, just as you were about to run out of air. She nodded at you eagerly, darting back to her seat, across from the chair Aryu had pulled out for you.

“Yup, I am! Hyoma asked me to come along with him, since he didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding an actual date and I was already invited, but I was worried I wouldn’t know anyone else and might have to spend the entire event clinging to my little brother’s sleeve,” she said.

“Nothing of the sort, don’t worry,” you said, sitting and hanging your purse on the back of your chair. “Where is Hyoma?”

“He went to see what non-alcoholic drinks they’re serving at the bar,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon!”

“He’s really been doing well this season,” you said. “Not that I keep up with soccer much, but I see highlights on social media and all. His team’s lucky to have him.”

“I’m just so pleased he’s enjoying himself again,” Koyuki said. “For a while, right after he tore his ACL, I thought he’d never enjoy soccer again. I watched him lose himself…it was the worst, because there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but I should’ve had more faith in him. He found himself again, all on his own.”

“Who did what?” This was Hyoma himself, returning with a flute of something gold and bubbly in his hand. “Oh, hey, Y/N, Aryu.”

“Hey,” you said. “What’ve you got there?”

“Sparkling apple cider,” he said with a winsome grin. “It looks like champagne, though, doesn’t it? Makes me feel a little less left out.”

“I’m sure it tastes better than anything else you might find at that bar,” you assured him.

“I’m in full agreement,” Aryu said. “In fact, I might get the same for myself. Would you like anything, Y/N?”

“You can pick,” you said. “I trust your judgement better than my own in regards to these things.”

“I’ll do my best to procure a drink worthy of you,” he said, his hair swishing behind him as he strolled in the direction Hyoma had just come from.

“What were you guys talking about?” Hyoma said once it was just the three of you.

“Nothing important. Just how excited we are to see each other again,” Koyuki said.

“And how you’re becoming quite the star recently,” you said.

“Oh,” he said, blushing and sinking in his seat a bit. “Thank you.”

“Sure, it’s only the truth,” you said.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” a rambunctious voice said, and then Karasu was plopping in the seat beside Hyoma, socking him in the arm. “What’s got little Chigiri all embarrassed?”

“Nothing, you noisy excuse for a crow,” Hyoma said, batting Karasu away half-heartedly.

“Sorry we’re late,” your best friend, sitting beside you and unfolding her napkin. “Someone was more concerned with how their hair looked than timeliness and other such factors.”

“By someone, do you mean yourself?” Karasu challenged before making his voice comically high-pitched to mock her. “Oh, Tabito, my purse doesn’t match my shoes! Oh, Tabito, I need to wear a bracelet with this or my arm will be too bare! Oh, Tabito—”

“Shut up,” she said. “Like I was saying, it was entirely his fault.”

“Uh-huh,” Karasu said. “Whatever, we made it, so in the end it’s irrelevant who was at fault. Even if it was obviously you.”

“Aryu and I just got here a few minutes ago, so you’re not really that late. Doesn’t seem like you’re the last ones in, either, so don’t worry about it,” you said.

“Do either of you know who else is at our table?” Koyuki said. To your surprise, Karasu nodded; though, then again, he was the type who would be aware of something like that.

“It’s Aiku and his girlfriend-of-the-month,” he said.

“Who is it this time, another singer?” Hyoma said, rolling his eyes. Aiku was infamous for being a player with a different partner for every event he attended, and you supposed this one was no different.

“Apparently, she’s a lingerie model from Sweden,” Karasu said. “He told me they met while he was visiting his dad’s side of the family.”

“Damn,” Hyoma said. “Only Aiku.”

“Only Aiku,” Karasu echoed, shaking his head. Aiku’s habits were the butts of many a joke amongst the Blue Lock boys, or so you were told, and you couldn’t blame them — everything about him teetered on the verge of insanity, just shy of utterly unbelievable, which was especially comedic given how grounded and down-to-earth he seemed to be at first glance.

“Did you hear Yukimiya proposed to his girlfriend?” Hyoma said, motioning towards where Yukimiya and his girlfriend were sitting a table with Nagi, Reo, a few others you didn’t recognize, and — you swallowed when you inadvertently made eye contact with Otoya, who was sitting on Reo’s left and spinning a spoon between his fingers, turning away before he could do something childish like stick his tongue out at you.

“Really?” Koyuki said. “Aren’t they a bit young for it?”

“He mentioned that he asked!” your best friend said. She had become friends with Yukimiya and his girlfriend somewhat by accident and shortly before she began dating Karasu, so it wasn’t a surprise that she was already informed about the news. “They’ve known each other since elementary school and have been dating since, like, junior high, so it’s not too strange.”

“He’s the kind of person who thinks through things before doing them, so it definitely wasn’t some half-baked, average decision,” Karasu said with a decisive nod that signaled the topic wasn’t up for discussion anymore.

“I’ll have to be sure to congratulate them at some point,” you said. The when Otoya’s not around was left unsaid, but given who was sitting at the table with you, you were pretty sure everyone — excepting maybe Hyoma — heard it.

“I’ll come with you when you do,” your best friend said. “I haven’t had the chance to say anything to them in person yet.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. “I wonder what’s taking Aryu so long…”

“Is he getting drinks for the two of you?” Karasu said. You nodded. “I was just about to head over there myself, so I can check on him, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” you said.

“Ooh, get something for me,” your best friend said. Karasu tapped her on the head as he got up; you shifted in your seat, tracing the patterns in the carpet with your eyes so that you weren’t faced with his gentleness to her any longer.

“Already planning on it, don’t worry,” he said. “Tell Aiku he’s a dick when he gets here. If he does.”

Not even thirty seconds had passed by when, like a storm, Aiku and his Swedish-lingerie-model girlfriend arrived, pausing in the doorway to luxuriate in the spotlight for a second before ambling over to your table. They were the kind of couple that drew everyone’s attention to them, tall and willowy and beautiful in a manner that suited one another exactly, handsomely and painstakingly crafted to be the center of attention.

“Hello, everybody,” Aiku said magnanimously. You exchanged looks with Koyuki, who looked just as amused as you felt.

“Hello, Aiku,” your best friend said. “My boyfriend thinks you’re a dick.”

“Takes one to know one,” Aiku said, unperturbed. “Where’s he off to?”

“Him and Aryu are at the bar, where I am sure you will soon be joining them,” she said. Aiku grinned at her, the kind of white, toothy grin that was most commonly seen in photoshopped magazine commercials.

“Am I that easily read? Yeah, I’ll head over there now. Want anything, babe?” he said.

“Just water,” his girlfriend said.

“As you wish,” he said, drawing a tiny snort out of Hyoma, who immediately disguised it with a cough, his hand covering his mouth as Aiku’s girlfriend gave him a quizzical look.

“Sorry,” Hyoma said. “I cough when it rains. I’m allergic.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “It must be difficult.”

Hyoma coughed again, clearing his throat in what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Very.”

“Do you think they’ll have vegan food here?” she continued.

“Uh,” Hyoma gave you a panicked look for some reason, mouthing ‘help’, but you could only shrug, both because you had no idea what was on the menu and because you, too, had no idea why she was focusing her attention entirely on him. “Maybe?”

“Back in Sweden, we…”

Leaning around Koyuki, she continued to talk to the bewildered Hyoma, leaving Koyuki to duck closer to the table and involve herself in conversation with you and your best friend. Eventually, the Chigiri siblings swapped seats so that Hyoma could be beside Aiku’s girlfriend-of-the-month, leaving Koyuki next to Karasu’s empty seat, making your discussion about who you thought would get engaged next much more comfortable.

“I think it’s going to be Reo,” your best friend said.

“Reo? Is he with someone, then?” you said. She clicked her tongue.

“Not that we know of, but listen, he’s totally the type to use his family’s insane connections to hide any potential relationships from the media,” she said. “For all we know, he’s already married.”

“That’s actually very true,” you said.

“I know for a fact that it won’t be Hyoma,” Koyuki said.

“Why not?” you said, gesturing towards where Hyoma was listening raptly to Aiku’s girlfriend as she described the process of getting ready for a runway show. “He seems popular and friendly, plus he’s very kind.”

“He’s never been in a relationship before, and given his track record, I don’t see him getting in one anytime soon. He’s simply uninterested,” she said. “He’ll get there eventually, but he definitely won’t be the next up.”

“What about you? Who do you think?” your best friend said.

“Karasu,” you said promptly.

“But — hey!” she said. “No way!”

“He’s the only one who’s actually dating someone publicly and isn’t Aiku,” you said. “I’m saying this as much by process of elimination as anything. Besides, I’ve been planning your wedding for years now, so you better be next.”

“She has a point,” Koyuki said. “Er, about the process of elimination part.”

“You guys are crazy,” your best friend said, though the smile threatening to cross her face revealed what she really thought of the prospect.

The boys returned with your drinks in hand a little later. Aryu set a glass filled with red wine down in front of you, and you took it, idly swishing it before taking a sip. You thought that you must seem quite refined with such a beverage, so although you wouldn’t have ordered it for yourself, you drank it without complaint, despite the ensuing bitterness coating your tongue.

Glass in hand, you leaned back in your seat, observing the proceedings as if through a window. Everyone else was so caught up in their own little words that they did not notice your silence — your best friend was talking quietly to Karasu, while Aryu and Aiku reminisced over their days as rookie players of the Italian club they had started their professional careers at. Koyuki was giggling as she texted somebody on her phone, and Aiku’s girlfriend was telling Hyoma how many rollers she required for a perfect blowout; simply put, they were all happy. Every one of them belonged, to someone else if not themselves, and even though you had declared to yourself that it didn’t matter to you anymore, that never again would you preoccupy yourself with something as foolish as dating, you could not help a lump from forming in the back of your throat, because it was a lie. It had always been a lie.

“I’m heading to the bathroom,” you said, your voice catching. Your best friend furrowed her brow at you.

“Do you want me to come?” she said.

“No, it’s okay,” you said. “Please. I’ll be right back.”

You fled without another word, stumbling over your feet in your haste, wine sloshing in the glass you still clutched in your fist as you walked with as much composure as you could until you were out of sight of the hall, whereupon your steps grew minced and desperate as you raced towards the door. The hotel’s heating was suddenly suffocating, and you were dimly aware of a wet stain spreading across your chest where the contents of your cup had spilled in your haste.

Why were you reacting like this? Why did you care so suddenly? Why did it matter? And why were you on the verge of crying? You had already had a chance, and you had squandered it. You could’ve been at Barou’s table, sitting alongside him and Hiori and Niko, your head resting against his shoulder when you were tired, his coat cascading over your back when you were cold. It was your own fault, and something you had come to terms with long ago, so why was it hitting you like this, all at once?

As Aryu had predicted, it was pouring rain outside, but you brushed the receptionist’s concerns aside, the hotel door slamming behind you as you made a beeline for a bench by one of the many azalea bushes blooming in front of the grand building. It was such a sad and lonely thing, that bench, the grey stone drenched, the lamp above it flickering unsteadily, and for some reason, that was enough for you to burst into tears, downing the rest of the wine you didn’t even like and then, in a fit of inspiration, throwing the glass onto the ground.

The base of it shattered first, followed by the stem and then the body, which burst into a million pieces like stars on the concrete, stained pinkish from your drink and dagger-sharp at the edges. Burying your face in your newly empty hands, you didn’t even try to wipe your tears away — they’d be replaced by fresh ones, as well as the rain, soon enough, so there was no point to it. There wasn’t much of a point to anything.

You shouldn’t have come. You should’ve been firmer with your best friend, should’ve told her you had no interest in coming to this stupid event with stupid Blue Lock, where everyone else had a place but you didn’t, where you would always be an outsider who stuck out like a sapling in snow, where you would always be a second consideration, left to cry in the rain alone before having to return like nothing had ever happened.

“Hey.” Someone sat at the opposite side of the bench with a huff. “You look like serious shit, Y/N.”

“Otoya,” you said, for you would know his voice anywhere, and it was so unexpected that it temporarily broke you out of your spiral. “Thanks a bunch.”

“The weather’s awful,” he said. “What’re you doing out here?”

“I could say the same to you,” you said, the heels of your palms digging into your eye sockets.

“Trust me, it’s not like I want to be,” he said.

“Then go inside,” you said, biting on your lower lip so hard blood swelled in your mouth, salty and acrid. “And stay away from me. For good this time, preferably.”

“I would if I thought it would do anything,” he admitted. “But it’s kind of pointless, right? You’ll still manifest out of thin air somehow, and you’ll probably blame me for something I didn’t even do while you’re at it.”

“Didn’t do? Don’t make me laugh,” you said.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “I messed up a movie for you once. Two years ago. Capital crime.”

“It’s not just the movie,” you said. “It’s everything.”

“Everything?” he said.

“It’s you!” you said, dropping your hands into your lap and tilting your head towards the sky. The stars were hidden behind the blanket of grey clouds, but if you squinted hard enough, you could still see the moon, as full and benevolent as a pearl. “It’s you. Everything about you, I can’t stand it. You don’t care about anyone or anything, you just barge into people’s lives and ruin them. You make rocks look smart, and you have horrible taste in ties; you have the worst hair I’ve ever seen on a man — which is saying something, considering I’ve met Karasu — and you’re as condescending as anything, which is also saying something, because what do you have to be condescending about?”

Otoya was quiet, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his eyes burning holes through you. You rubbed the back of your hand against your face in a futile attempt to pretend like nothing mattered, like this was a routine situation, like he hadn’t found you crying on a solitary bench when you should’ve been with everyone else.

“If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be Barou’s girlfriend,” you continued, your voice weak, pathetic. “Or Reo’s. Or someone else’s entirely. I’d be inside of that party, sitting with the others, and I’d matter to someone. Maybe I don’t have to be the center of attention all of the time, maybe I’m not nearly that pretty or interesting, but at least — at least one person, I would’ve had at least one person…”

“What are you talking about?” he said.

“You’re always there,” you said. “On the field. At the coffee shop. By the bathrooms. Near the entrance. In the back of my mind. You’re there and I hate it and I hate you and I hate that any of this even concerns me, because why should it? I know who I am. I know the truth.”

“Which is?” he said.

“I can try as hard as I like, but I’ll never be my best friend,” you said. “She’s the one everybody loves. She’s the one with the perfect boyfriend and the perfect life; if this were a television show, she’d be the favorite, the main lead, and I wouldn’t be anything more than the annoying side character who only gets fans out of pity and marries some random, nameless man that the writers make up so nobody wonders what happens to me by the end. I’m not supposed to be important. I keep trying, but I’m not, and every time I think it’s okay, I’m reminded of it and it hurts all over again.”

There was a rustling of fabric, and for a second you thought he had left, but then he was pressing something cold and smooth into your hands — a glass.

“It’s sparkling apple cider,” he said. “You should drink it.”

“Why’d you get this?” you said. “Don’t I seem like someone who would drink red wine?”

“Not really,” he said. “Are you?”

“No,” you said. “I wish I was, but I’m not.”

“It’s not the only drink in the world, so it’s not like you have to like it,” he said. “The others are good, too. I like this one the most, even if other people might not agree.”

The beverage was sweet in your mouth, and before you knew it, you had drained the entire thing, washing away the thickness of the wine and the salt of your tears in one fell swoop.

“Why are you out here, anyways?” you said.

“I saw you leave and pointed it out to Reo, who told me I should check on you,” he said.

“Why you?” you said.

“Beats me,” he said.

“You still did it, though,” you said.

“Yeah,” he said. “Don’t ask why. That beats me, too.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you said. “It’s unimportant.”

The cars on the road in front of you rushed by without a care, the puddles on the asphalt streaked through with the colors of the passing vehicles, reflecting the white headlights and the shimmering streaks of oil lingering on their surfaces.

Neither of you said anything for a while, only watching the traffic, which grew thinner and thinner as the minutes marched on. Oddly enough, the silence wasn’t grating; you thought you would’ve hated it, thought it would’ve been as awkward as it had been on that date with Barou, but it was nice. You didn’t mind it as much when it was him. You didn’t mind it at all, shockingly.

“Otoya,” you said. You couldn’t say how long it had been — both of you were utterly drenched, all of the way to the bone, but he hadn’t complained yet, nor had he made any moves to get up. You probably looked like a wreck, a rat drowned in a water-trough, and in the hotel there were toasts and wine and music and warmth, beautiful girls with beautiful dresses that��d do anything to talk with him for even a second, but still, without any fuss, he stayed with you.

“Hm?” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He took the empty glass from your hand, setting it carefully on the ground by his feet, and then he replaced it with something warm — his own hand, fingers lacing through your own, the pulse in his wrist beating against yours in tandem. You stiffened, taken aback, but no words came to your mind, no quick insult or sharp retort. You couldn’t muster anything, and neither could you pull away, so you stayed still, as still as possible, tucked against the armrest on your side of the bench, his palm pressed to yours the only proof that you weren’t alone anymore.

“People will come looking for you soon,” he said.

“Maybe not me, but you, yes,” you said.

“You’re not unimportant,” he said. “There’s people that care about you, too.”

“Do you?” you said, your face heating at the uncharacteristic brashness.

“Do I what?” he said. You exhaled.

“Never mind,” you said. You shouldn’t have expected anything from him. Only a few hours previously, you had been convinced he was the bane of your existence and you were his, so why should his feelings on the matter have changed? Why had yours?

“Come on,” he said. Before you knew what was happening, you were on your feet, and Otoya was looking at you so earnestly that your heart raced and your stomach dropped. “Let’s leave. This party is boring, anyways.”

“Leave? Where will we go, though?” you said. He considered it for a moment, and then, inexplicably, he grinned. You hadn’t seen him smile before, but it was sweet, the type of smile that lit up his entire face in a rare way, the type of smile that made you wonder why you had ever despised him in the first place.

“Well,” he said. “There’s a movie we could watch.”

Your eyes widened, and then you laughed. You laughed and laughed, because you couldn’t believe he had said that, and neither could you believe that you were really about to run away from the gala with him.

“You better not mess it up for me this time,” you said.

“Sorry, Y/N,” he said, and when he squeezed your hand, you thought that maybe there was one person in the world, just one, who paid attention to you. Who thought you were important. Who saw you for who you were. “But you of all people should know I can’t promise that I won’t.”

#otoya x reader #otoya x y/n #otoya x you #otoya eita #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #enemies to lovers #reader insert #stealing from thieves #m1ckeyb3rry writes

151 notes · View notes

lila-went-missing · 1 year ago

Note

Saw you want to write Clarisse x Reader and I NEED more clarisee x reader fics SO!

Can you a Clarisse x reader of when Percy broke her spear and just like readers reaction to the her scream and just very angsty but very fully at the same time! Pls and thank u!

I swear on my life reverse hurt/comfort is one of my favorite things to write on this planet. Also, I feel like it’s worth mentioning that Dior said she literally BLEW OUT HER VOICE when she did that scream?!?! She never fails to amaze me.

This got a bit sadder than intended but it's not too bad. Also, sorry this took so long, I had a math test, two essays, and a debate, on top of personal shit. But I FINALLY got it finished.

My Love is Waiting For You to Come Home

Warnings: Slight violence, mild angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, small amounts of blood, mentions of wounds, lmk if I left anything out.

Pair: Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Apollo!Reader

For the first time in what felt like forever, capture the flag was going great. It had been a long time since the red team had won, but you were actually doing really well. You were up in a tree close to the flag, shooting anyone who got too close with your arrows. They weren't sharp, but they had enough of a point to hurt.

Clarisse was hunting in the woods below you. You'd occasionally catch sight of her from the place you were perched on your branch. She always looked amazing like this. Hair pulled back, armor on, spear in hand. She was in her element, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't extremely attractive. The way she looked so tough, her lucky red bandanna tied around her bicep.

Anyone else would say she looked terrifying. But to you, she was the most beautiful person you'd ever laid eyes on. You were the only one who got that side of her.

It wasn't long before she disappeared again, hunting down anyone who dared to get close to the flag or your tree. She had mentioned something before the game. Something about revenge on the new kid. She didn't go into detail about said revenge, but you new it wouldn't end well for someone.

You didn't move from your tree, assuming her and her siblings had everything handled. And they did, for a while at least. You had shot down another four people by the time you heard your girlfriend scream in a way that genuinely terrified you.

Jumping down from the tree, you raced to the sound as the conch horn blue. You made it in time to see her storm off as the blue team carried the flag over. Just before she made it out of sight, you saw the spear in her hand. Or rather, what was left of it.

Oh gods. You thought.

You tipped your head back, letting out a breath before turning in the direction she went. You found her in the arena, tearing dummy after dummy into shreds. You let her go at it for a while, watching from the doorway.

Eventually, you slowly walked towards her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Clar.." You whisper.

She jumps, turning quickly, ready to knock you into the ground before relaxing. All of the tension disappears from her face, her bottom lip trembling. You reach forward, taking the sword from her hand and tossing it into the rack haphazardly.

"I- fuck.." She drops her head forward, breathing hard.

"Come on.. it'll be okay." You lead her towards your cabin, knowing all of your siblings would be in the infirmary tending to peoples wounds. You can see cuts and bruises on her arms, giving you a feeling that her back will be even worse. You make sure to grab the pieces of her spear on your way out.

On the way to your cabin, her eyes don't leave the ground. Your hand stays on her back the the whole walk, not leaving even as you open the door for her.

She sits on your bed, putting her head in her hands. The broken weapon lays on the foot of your bed as you sit next to her. Her breath shakes with her body.

"Let me clean you up, okay?" She nods, at your words.

"Okay.." Her voice is smaller than you've ever heard it before. You lean forward and pull her shirt over her head, confirming your suspicions about her back. An angry red covers almost the entirety of her tan skin, small amounts of blood leaking from a few spots.

You hover a hand over the scrapes and cuts, a warm glow emanating from your palm. Her wounds slowly heal as her muscles relax. Your heart breaks for her every time you hear her wince or feel her breath hitch. Your free hand reaches forward, grasping hers. A few small scars form over the area, but nothing that won't fade.

You lean your chin on her shoulder when you finish, wrapping your arm around her front. Her other hand reaches up to hold your wrist.

"I love you.." You whisper into her ear.

She hesitates, not speaking for a few moments. When she does her voice is as shaky as her body.

"That was the only thing- the only proof he-" She can't finish either sentence. You can feel her holding her breath as if she's trying not to cry.

"I know, my love. I know." Your lips press into her shoulder. "I'm gonna talk to some Hephaestus kids, I think there's a couple of Hecate kids in the Hermes cabin. I'll do everything I can to fix it."

Her whole body shudders. She's never had the best relationship with her dad. He'd always said that she should've been a son. That spear was the only acknowledgement she'd ever gotten from him. And now it was broken.

A few tears slip down her cheek that you pretend not to see.

"It'll be okay, Clar'." Your arms tighten around her as her head leans into you.

"Thank you." She mutters. If it wasn't for your close proximity you probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"You deserve someone to care about you.. I'll be damned if I don't do everything I can to be that person."

"I love you. So much." Her voices is so soft, so gentle.

"I love you more." You're not sure how long you sit like that, but it's long enough for your legs to go numb. You can bring yourself to care as she looks so comfortable. She's always had to fight for her dad's love. It gets tiring after you do everything you can to get no recognition. It was nice to know she had someone. If she didn't have anyone else, she would have you.

Eventually you moved positions to her laying on your chest. Your hand rubs up and down her back as her wrap around your waist. She traces patterns across your skin with her finger tips. It's not long before you're both sound asleep in each other's arms. She would never have to fight for your love, it was just there, ready for her when she came home.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #dior goodjohn #clarisse la rue x reader #x reader #percy series #percy jackson disney+#clarisse pjo #hurt/comfort #light angst #fluff #one shot #clarisse x reader #clarisse is bae

629 notes · View notes

onyourhyuck · 1 year ago

Text

Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: CHAPTER 1 ‘The Untamed.’

— Prologue: “When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty whore’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, Fingering (female receiving). Creampie, cumming inside / no protection please use a condom.

— Notes: I APOLOGISE FOR TAKING SO LONG. BUT HERE IT IS. MORE FREQUENT UPDATES COMING UP.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

One thing you love about yourself is that your work basically shapes your entire routine. You love walking inside your laboratory seeing the animals in the tanks you have to take care of and examine. This included various important research that no one should know. It is highly top secret. A simple leak of what you collect samples from the sea or other animal biology from biomes and journals you keep could really be a mess for you.

Working on separating the two and three sides of the samples you have listed from the deep oceans all throughout different sights. You felt a hand approaching behind you quickly.

The man taps your shoulders when you’re so busy working with the test tubes. “Hey Y/n mind giving me—” you jump and turn around with a fright.

“Seriously Johnny! I told you not to sneak up on me like this. Especially when I’m working with these highly reactive test tubes.” You scowled at your coworker, Johnny Suh. He was one of your friends and coworkers. Wearing a white cloak and round black glasses on.

He was a handsome fella. Very charming and handsome you have to admit it. Johnny can be professional but he could also be quite a mood maker in such a serious profession.

Laughing at your unusual behaviour, you’re never this jumpy when you are working but he probably assumes he scared you to death. “What got you so anxious Y/n? You never get scared when i do this.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. He swore he could see your own soul leave your body.

Truth be honest ever since that night with Ningning all you are thinking about how your entire life has been a lie. Sour Grape’s has taken your mind over. No. Mark has taken your entire mind off and away from your daily routines. Everyday you’re thinking about ‘How can this be possible?’ Humans coming from other animals and not just monkeys. It’s insane information. You shouldn’t be believing this but when Jaehyun said it’s a secret; it makes you think there must be some truth to it.

No one on earth would make up such a stupid fairytale on the spot.

If you weren’t a marine biologist with side degrees of zoology you’re just the type of person to not let this slide. You want to learn more.

You want to experience the truth. You want to see if it’s the truth if they actually are who they are setting themselves to be.

Letting out soft mumbles as you close off the testing tubes, afterwards putting the collective tubes in the stirring device. “I haven’t slept well for the past few days. Sorry if i seem like I’m on the edge.”

He gave you a soft smirk leaning on the side of the table while watching you. “Oh honey you seem like you’re more than on the edge. You’re off the edge.” Your eyes make eye contact after you were done with your tasks.

Your friend trails now questioning you as you’re looking at him with a soft look that made your thoughts even worse.

“What’s on your mind, Y/n?” Johnny asked with a small smile. You shake your head, you don’t want to share something so crazy. He might think you’re actually insane, or worse, he might even think you lost your entire marbles.

“Nothing serious, John. Let’s just finish up and go home. I’m tired.” You excused yourself from the conversation to finish up. The only thing you want to do today is figure out what to eat for dinner.

Walking down the street to your favourite food truck, you decided to take your mind off whatever you were thinking for the past week or so.

You felt like your brain was just constantly going back to the same topic and it was draining truth be honest. What better way to distract yourself than to eat your favourite stir fry noddles?

Being a local customer the food truck owner gives you discounts nowadays because you were a customer for a long time. A regular at that.

“Hey I would like the usual.” You gave a smile at the owner who nodded seemingly being happy to seeing you drop by.

“I was beginning to think you’d never return, Y/n.” Said the truck owner and you gave a little smirk. “How could I not return? You make the best noodles.” Complimenting them they blushed and started making the noodles for you.

But then something flashed behind you at a fast pace. You didn’t even realise it until the figure stood overshadowed by their body remaining still as a statue.

Gawking at the menu on the side. Your eyes widen when you turned around with disbelief flashing over your lips and cheeks.

“Young man what would you like?” The owner interrupts your own lingering thoughts of shock. The voice, the sound of his breathing, everything else made you feel so small and in danger just by the presence alone of this man.

He looks back from the menu. “The original stir fry m’am.”

You did not realise you were literally staring Mark down in this moment until his face turned over to you and you quickly looked away biting your bottom lip, staring at your very own feet on the ground. You can’t believe it that Mark and you crossed paths when all you’ve been saying is how you’re going to distract yourself finally!

What was this coincidence? Fate? Destiny?

There was this expression on his face that falters when he finally acknowledges your existence. It’s like he met you before but he was trying to find out from where.

And then it hits him. You were the one with Jaehyun that one night.

The dark tone of voice strikes you like a knife behind your back if anything. “You’re that girl at the bar that one time.” Mark said to you, turning to look at you fully with his entire body now facing you.

You definitely caught the predator’s attention now with how easy you’re to read. God you hate being so readable like an open book — a very non interesting book at that.

You fake a smile, maybe if you just pretend you don’t know him he will give up speaking to you. “Oh no, I don’t attend bars. I’m… allergic to alcohol.” You cringe deep inside when you made up the most stupid excuse.

Really? Allergy? He didn’t even ask about your allergies.

Mark frowns which lead you to believe he wasn’t completely swayed by your own actions right now. You forget how much of animal instincts he must have by now. You can’t fool a tiger easily.

“You must’ve mixed me up with someone else.” You said quietly trying to make it seem more and more believable if you just keep talking.

Thankfully you were praying for your meal to arrive first beforehand he got his. The prayer was answered when you grab your plastic container smiling and thanking them. You literally dashed away but why try to run away?

Trying to out run one of the most dangerous cats you probably made the worst mistake to even show a hint of speed in your movements.

When you were to reach your destination to your car the same black towering figure stands over you. In front of you with a dark gaze.

You let out a mini gasp to be honest, you feel like your heart is being crushed by two large walls that keep on moving forward and forward until your heart and lungs collapse.

Mark sighs. “You know that I can hear your beating heart when you lie?” He said rather amused but also it was eerily like a reminiscing threat thrown at you. You stand there quivering, trembling even, and it made Mark so much more entertained than he thought he would be.

He took a step forward. The stir fry plastic box was shaking in very discreet manner in your hands. Each step he takes you took three steps backwards.

This was a new cat and mouse game you didn’t want to be playing with him at all.

“Y/n was it? Jaehyun mentioned you.” Mark said with a little more confidence now that he actually had you cornered. Now you cannot lie on the spot and try to run away from him.

It’s ridiculous. He looks and was human but in reality he’s not just entirely human is he? He’s a freaking tiger with probably the most define genetics. It’s crazy to you.

You mumble trying to get away still. There was just this instinct inside you to make excuses until you can’t anymore. “Sorry i have to go, i am extremely busy.”

Your heartbeat picked up again, Mark sighs pressing an arm around your body and now moved you to sit down at a bench in the scene. You flinch and he forced you to sit down in front of him with his dark eyes watching you. “Another lie. You must enjoy lying a lot don’t you?”

You look away. You’re watching anything but him. “What do you want from me? I swear I don’t… I don’t know anything.” You’re trying your best to make this situation just deescalate.

He grinned amused. “Well that’s also a lie.” He said sitting down next to you on the bench as your heart was racing incredibly fast. Mark thought you might die on the spot if you keep stressing yourself out.

You took a little breath when he sat down next to you which seemed a little less nerve wrecking.

Eventually your heart calmed down when the silence overtook you both. Mark makes a quick glance over at you again, and he continues to speak when he waited for your nerves to sort themselves out.

You sigh. “I didn’t know you liked this place.” You tried to make a conversation as well but you weren’t sure how well he will respond to it.

Heck you don’t know this guy at all.

“I like it. I’m a regular here.” Mark said with a smirk and he moves a bit closer to you now, he opens up his plastic box of stir fry and starts to eat it with the plastic fork you’d get at a restaurant or other food trucks.

You saw him eating and you slowly shift to open your stir fry. But to be honest you’re too scared to even eat in front of him. You’re trying to act normal though. So you take a piece and ate slowly your own food along with Mark. The man kept watching you even though he ate. But you’re avoiding to even acknowledge him so much.

“Y/n do i scare you?” He was quite blunt and upfront. You flinched when he mentions the exact words you’re feeling.

You awkwardly chuckle and put down the fork. “Is it that obvious?”

Mark scoffs a bit. “You didn’t try to hide it.” He leans away and ate some more, you felt a bit less scared and now more guilty. Now that you think about it he seems like a normal guy now.

“Sorry. What Jaehyun said to me that night at the bar messed with my brain.” You admit it, which made the man next to you smirk. “You know I’m human as well. But I do admit it was fun seeing you trembling.” There was a sense of eeriness in his words but at the same time you were watching him.

He admitted to you that watching you embarrass yourself in front of him was a thrilling show but you decided to just not respond to it.

You didn’t even know what to say back anyways.

“So… are you actually…” your voice trails off unable to think of how to say this. How do you even phrase this?

Mark saw your expression like it was the most readable thing he has ever laid eyes on. He leans forward putting the plastic box down. “Part Tiger?” He spoke those words right out of your throat. You bite your inner cheek nodding.

“Is it true?” You asked with your eyes widen.

He grinned and stands up, putting hands in the front jean pockets he then turns around to you rather amused by your curiosity.

Has no one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat? You’re like a small, tiny cat who can’t keep their nose out of something that wasn’t their business.

It felt rather authentic for you though. Most people are just nosey but you seem to be curious because you want to discover something new.

And that is exactly what Mark likes about you. Your intentions are something he hasn’t seen before. Leaning forward he writes something on the paper and passed it to you, with the same hand you saw the large metal ring with the tiger engraved on it. Grabbing the piece of paper you look cautiously from the paper towards Mark’s dark gaze.

“When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.” He said to you simply.

Just like a tiger he caught you by surprise with how sharp his tone of voice was full of silky seriousness. And then he disappeared into thin air as well. You only looked away for a second just for Mark to be gone in front of you.

Leaving you questioning if you should take the bait and go to his apartment even though that sounds like some kind of messed up plan.

For once you were dreading the sun setting. Getting out of your car you look back at the paper in your hand and then your eyes fall back on the complex building in the front.

The address that brought you to this place makes you both anxious and excited. You have many running thoughts on your journey going inside. Every single muscle contraction meant you were growing close and closer to danger.

Slipping your hand over the doorknob you didn’t even knock, the door opened up with the man revealing in front of you.

Mark heard you from a mile away. He knew you’d come and he was right when you stood in front of him with a stunned look.

You really do make him feel like he’s hunting you down.

“Come on in Y/n, I don’t bite.” Mark smirked seeing your hesitation as your eyes peek inside the apartment before your whole body walks in. Mark closed the door after you fully enter.

There was a lack of trust between you two but for some you are wanting to trust this man. You don’t know why but you know one thing for sure; he has bland furniture. All neutral colours and very modern in his apartment.

You tread carefully and put your purse bag down on the couch nearby as you stand in middle of his apartment. Your gaze follows where Mark was on the wall leaning one side of his shoulders on it, the muscular arms crossed together and the lower body curved towards the right side.

Breathing hitching you feel it becoming a round ball in your throat. “So Mark will you admit that what I know is true?”

You came for the truth only. But to Mark he wanted more from you than just to give you a simple truth. He wanted to take a taste of something much better than any truth could provide him or to you.

The body slips off the wall approaching you slowly while his gaze was rather intense and playful while watching you.

“I don’t think I can prove anything verbally to you.” Mark whispers gaining a closer look at your face and the natural scent of your body blending in with the morning coffee you drank as well as your floral perfume; creating this intoxicating sensation in the nasal passages. Mark could crawl to you just by the smell of your own skin.

Hands slowly moving to your waist pulling you closer by an inch your feet trotting forward in little steps towards his body. “But I can show you how a tiger has it’s fun?” He smirks brushing the hot breath escaping from his mouth down to your neckline, while his large eyes are watching you keenly to see your reaction for approval.

Goosebumps evoked on your skin when the tiniest touch of his fingers kneading on your waist bringing you closer to him made you fall into this trance; a trap in other words you’re not escaping a primal animal’s desire at all.

He lifts his head only a little, waiting for your lips to give him consent or a sign of any sorts. But you seemed to stunned and even timid.

The reasoning of you coming to his apartment wasn’t to sleep with him. But the idea of sleeping with someone as magnetic and attractive as him clouds your judgemental. You’re a smart woman you know that and even Mark knows it; you know your stuff. But you certainly look tempted by the invitation.

The only thing you could think about was how badly you want to kiss his lips in that moment. Swiftly you press your hands up to his jawline and pull him in with a sudden kiss when your decision was made finally. Your sudden lips and the taste of them lingering in the air stunned the tiger but you soon felt his hands clawing at your hips lifting you up with his arm muscles — bringing forward your body against a nearby wall as your mouths clashed like two boulders in action. Fighting for something you would like to say is survival; survival of the fittest.

Grunting at the smallest thing, Mark enjoyed hearing them a lot, even the clawing he did down your back and to cup your round ass made you grind up against his body in a friction. Your reactions were what made Mark’s instincts going up the roof. The inner animal was raging from just how much you do this to him. You look ethereal and vulnerable.

Your tongues are tied like a knot together constantly trying to go back and forth only to end up pushing and pulsing instead. Your hair was a mess from just the heated makeout with the man who did not show you a signal mercy.

Running your hands through his hair was probably the most difficult thing for him. Mark’s sensitive area was always his hair and head in general.

You wonder if it’s because tigers in general have sensitive ears; in fact all cats have that trait. It just made your mind run free whenever your fingers cross over his hair. He always lets out soft noises between the heavy parting kisses with your red feverous mouth.

Deciding that the wall won’t be enough for him or for you in that matter. Mark lifted you again this time turning only a small swift left to the bedroom the door opens enough to keep you in and throw you on top of his bed. Watching your body sink on the mattress wasn’t as satisfying as your arms pulling him on top with your lips connecting again for another passionate kiss.

Your voice sounds like music to his ears, Mark could never get tired of hearing your own heart racing and pounding against your chest either. It might be his favourite sound afterall this time.

“Fuck — Mark, hold on.” You adjust yourself on the bed when his hands slipped over your shirt unbuttoned it down along with your lowering clothing slipping it to your ankles. Mark did not know a single vocabulary word about slowing down. He was an animal. Animals don’t wait they just do whatever they want. Whenever it suits them. Your words were pointless to Mark.

He gave you a look when your hands press on his biceps. You needed a moment to calm your heart otherwise you would feel like this whole moment will not be savoured enough.

Leaning in he gave you a gentle peck instead on your lips. Mark tried to slow down to your liking. Holding himself back was hard when you look like this in your underwear and bra only. With your skin on skin contact too.

“Please.” You whisper. “You really don’t hold back.” You chuckled a little bit. Mark grinned softly at your reaction.

Humming he slowly took off his shirt. “Didn’t Jaehyun already tell you?” He sighs and your gaze looks up at Mark when he mentioned another name. “I don’t settle down for anyone.” Mark mumbles connecting back to your close body again when the shirt fell down on the bedroom floor.

He doesn’t settle for anyone so there is no reason for Mark to slow down for anyone. Mark goes fast for everyone and everything.

Your eyes are glued together as one. Your heart skips a beat when Mark was simply staring at you but it felt like he was chasing you across the jungle if anything.

Seeing your stare he had a feeling you might be thinking about your second options. Mark pressed forward to you.

“You still have the option to leave sweetheart, because I won’t give you this choice afterwards anymore.” He slants his fingers down your forearms and your eyes lift up staring into his own deadly irises.

You breathily sigh. “No I don’t want to leave.” You tell him with a determined look and you press your lips on the side of his neck kissing down to his defined collarbones.

Mark chuckled at your amusing response. You don’t want to run away yet you’re the one who told him to slow down?

“Alright. Don’t blame me for what’s about to happen next.” Mark’s voice was dark and low, everything that had been attracting you to him all along. You couldn’t wait until Mark kissed you again, you’re craving for more and more.

You don’t even know what you’re craving; is it the dangerous thrill? Or is it the fact that there was this biological element that keeps your hormones growing more complex.

Whatever it was your thoughts shatter down like a glass on the ground shredded to pieces creating a map of what you’d call your scattering thoughts. The heat forming underneath the pawing motions of the hands threading your body like a needle, grabbing your perky breasts. Hearing out your grasps and manhandling you into the mattress to a position of what his desires are. You’re nothing more than a rag doll. In this scenario you didn’t know what else to think. You were caving for more.

Escaping grasps when the rough grain fingers rub down to your revealing womanhood. His yellow-ish sharp eyes glow by the excessive amount of excitement. Your insides were much mild to his fingers. But they manage to heat your insides up so much faster. When he pumps them up and down your eyes were trying to squeeze shut.

Mark didn’t want to look away from your precious eyes when he was pumping his fingers inside your pussy walls. He wanted to watch you cry out. To him if you weren’t shouting to the top of your lungs then he did not do a good job. And Mark values his ego and pride of pleasuring women he takes to bed. You need to have a good time, your pleasure means so much more than his own.

And that’s the type of man Mark is. He focuses on you as much as he can. There was a sense of addiction towards you. Mark loved smelling your increasing scent on his bedsheets that you’re sprawled across looking like a desperate prey begging for mercy, but deep down you want so much more. With those aching teary eyes Mark knew you were close to a climax.

But did his hands stop? No. Mark didn’t care if you’re close to cumming. Mark will make you cum thrice if he wants too.

By the next few minutes you’re not sure what’s happened but your mind was fogging out between the lines. The bed sheets were leaking by your juices and Mark’s hand and your pussy were only an inch away from one another. His fingers were so deeply embedded inside of you it’s causing your voice to come out like a strain meld.

“Oh fuck… fuck… Mark I think I came already.” You said the obvious not knowing that was his intention all along. To make you release so much you’re starting to lose train of consciousness.

The tiger smirks fondly by your answer. Mark stretching your pussy out so much just so you can be able to fit him later on.

Pulling out his fingers out of your hole he licks them across his plum lips while gaze on your eyes. There was not much space between you two; your breathes are touching.

“You taste so sweet, Y/n.” Mark deems it. Pulling apart the boxers fell on the bedroom floor and he pulled your ankles down so your legs are spread round the hips.

You’re gawking at the sight of his thick glory shown towards your face. You’re not sure what else to say because your expression said it all.

Mark sultry chuckles watching you was seriously amusing. You don’t try to hide your expression with your widen little eyes. “What is it? Did i leave you speechless already?”

Though it sounds cocky. Which it probably was. Mark had a good reasoning to sound like a complete womanising douche.

He was thick. Thicker than anything you’ve seen before. You’re unsure what to say but you cannot argue with him either. He did leave you speechless. It was embarrassing for you.

Mark took your token of silence so he leans his face closer to give you a peck on your lips. He whispers down to your shoulders aligning his face with it. In a way this was to comfort you.

“Don’t worry Y/n. We aren’t finished just yet.” Breathily into your skin Mark buried the nose on the collarbone as the shape of Mark enters your pussy walls this time it was stretched with a slight burning angle that caused your whole body to tremble by itself. Holding on to the bedsheets underneath your body you feel like you’re floating by how just the tip touching at your velvety skin you’re reacting so much to it. This wasn’t usual. You’ve not experienced something like that before.

It’s nothing like the previous times you’ve slept with a guy before. It’s nothing like that.

In this case it feels like you’re fighting for your life but at the same time you’re submitting to yourself knowing Mark was the powerful one here. The one in charge of the moment. The variable that will never change is Mark. In a sick twisted way you like this. You like becoming the prey. The way you’re underneath Mark as he is thrusting you like a wild in-domestic beast, it’s what you’ve been craving all this time. The thrill of it.

For once you’ve forgotten all about biology. You’ve became it instead. Maybe you’re starting to finally understand how it feels to be stepped on by someone stronger than you. For once in your life that is.

Mark couldn’t get enough of you however. It’s the way your dark hair is floating like strands of ribbons on his bed sheets that smell of you now. He knew that once you are finished it is mostly likely to return to normal life. You’ll probably never hear from him. Or he might never hear from you on that matter — but those bed sheets will have your lingering smell and he doesn’t think he will change them for a while. You’re addictive. Strangely Mark has never been this compatible before with just anyone.

It’s crazy how a simple “come to my apartment” leads to you actually having sex later on. But you didn’t care how easy it seemed. You were enjoying it far too much to worry about the consequences. Mark was far too lost between the creeks of your neckline and the collarbones, his thinly pressed tongue sucks across your beautiful canvas. Your moans are starting to resemble poetry to his ears. As if you were all he wants to listen to on hours end.

The tiger felt every inch of your insides clenching with awe around his shape. It was the way you wrap around so easily. Your arms do the same thing. They wrap around his body and cling onto him forever. Mark wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your eyes only part ajar like a door does only to see yellowish sparkles of phenomenal beauty spreading across the bedroom. Widening at the sight you felt like you’re hallucinating. But when you’ve looked at the man above you thrusting you seen exactly a pair of two golden Iris’ staring down at you with nothing behind those eyes but lust.

It felt as if every muscle in his body extended to his original position when Mark grunts the bottom lip pierced to his fangs. “Oh yes, keeping looking at me like that. Such a pretty whore you are.”

Cheeks grows out in awe when Mark brushed over his fingers into your hair only to press you even more into the mattress digging his clock so deep in your insides you’ve lost knowledge of how far you could last. By now it’s been far too long. Your body’s overdrive is now overheating like a computer would — yet Mark shows no sign of slowing.

Even the way his voice stood still like the sea breeze. You’re at a loss of words.

Pulling at your hair slightly Mark decided to make you sit up a little so he could rearrange the speed of his thrusts to become quicker and sharper. Which only made you gasp audibly loud when you’re held in this position for so long. Your brain begins to fog once again.

Mark groans besides your shoulders, carving his teeth marks all over your body. You’re starting to look like a butchered meat eaten alive by him.

His eyes shift close. “Fuck… that’s it… now take it all Y/n.” You’re starting to see some slowing down when Mark unleashed the folds between your pussy walls. You’re starting to give up the moment Mark leaves you to the brim; looking full and plum like he wanted you in the state.

Eutrophic state of being overdriven by an animal, was all you’re able to process.

Breathing heavily into your skin you’re closing your eyes only a little, but everytime you do that you wanted to drift off to sleep. Eventually you’re wondering if you are asleep because all you see is black with a faded out voice I’m the background calling your name all over again.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the morning you’re awaken by your own fine reflection of how much your body actually endured last night.

Your lips part away staring at the front. Teeth marks scattering from top to bottom. You look like a whole different person compared to when you stepped a foot into this apartment.

Your eyes dart around the bedroom putting on your clothes that were left on the floor. You had to make yourself presentable at least once in your life because right now — you feel and look completely out of place. Brushing your hands into your hair messily brushing it out any knots. Then you open the bedroom door and step out. You’re met with a smell of eggs frying in a pan.

Following the scent you’re now approaching the shoulders of a man. Short sleeve tight shirt on flexing out muscles while wearing an apron. You’re filled with some form of happiness when you see that food is being cooked.

You mumble with a groaning stomach already. “Morning. What are you cooking?”

The man turned around with a little smirk seeing you’re already dressed and awake. Mark was expecting you to be knocked out a little longer. At first he thought you died on him last night. You’ve suddenly out of nowhere blanked out. But it turns out you were due in need of much sleep.

Mark pressed the eggs out of the pan and onto the plates. Your eyes following where his muscular arms extend out the plate towards you. You took a seat down on the chair by the kitchen aisle counter. He pressed a smile.

“Eggs and some toast. It’s the best I can do.” Mark announces.

You smiled and grabbed a fork. “It’s fine I’d eat anything anyone makes me.” You wish you could’ve shut your mouth when you said that though, because you maybe held your expectations high for Mark. He cannot cook eggs for the love of God.

The smile drops on your face instantly and you clear your voice a little when you’re sending a gaze back at Mark. You take a bite of the half burnt — nearly black at the bottom scrambled eggs. How do you burn eggs? You’ve got no possible human explanation for this sorcery.

For someone who is made to be a perfect stone with no hard edges; Mark can’t cook.

You might of found Mark’s first flaw.

You trail off mumbling. “Maybe I should cook next time?” Nonetheless you eat it all without a complaint. But you had to jokingly point o it out to Mark. You’re an honest woman. You couldn’t lie to him. It might feed his delusional ego.

Mark scoffs a little and chuckles at the end. “Good idea, Y/n. I can handle the other eggs.” You nearly choked on your chewing. But before you could say anything to him he was walking out of the kitchen area with that giddy smirk on his face as if he’s proud for saying something as outrageous as that.

“I’ll be in the shower!” Mark announces without a care that you’re probably as red as an apple.

You shake your head in disbelief and trail off a little laugh. You have a feeling this might weirdly be the most calming morning you’ve had. You go back to eating your scrambled egg wondering what else you will expect…

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Reblog and Follow me for more smuts like this!!

651 notes · View notes

embryoed · 1 month ago

Text

I’m so sorry but my ass will NEVER shut up about how the writers came up with an honestly GOOD conflict with the Binary Bros in Part One, only to immediately drop everything that made it interesting in Part Two :-:

Putting my rant under the cut bc idk who’s gonna wanna hear this yapfest

Like, my biggest gripe is how they had Demetri bring up The Arm during his and Hawk’s fight for the flag, only to never mention it again. When he brought it up, a lot of people, including myself, thought that Part Two would probably explore that repressed hurt a little more. Because surely the writers wouldn’t write that into the script if they had no use for it!! Right? RIGHT???? (they did, in fact, end up not using it)

They could’ve used their conflict to make them have a very needed conversation about everything that happened between them in Seasons 2 and 3, because it’s very clear that they never properly addressed that, but they didn’t. Instead, their conflict was handled in what was probably the worst way it could’ve been.

They kept adding on all these new arguments for them to have, all of which were petty as shit and I could not care less for. The cheating plot especially gets me pissed because though I’m a firm believer that Demetri and Yasmine are both raging faggots, the writers aren’t and have been writing Demetri as genuinely being all over her, and that Demetri would NEVER cheat on her (he literally calls her his goddess like nuh uh he’s not a cheater on my soul).

And not only that, but everything they did had NO VALUE!!! All their “arguments” had no substance, especially since they weren’t even really fighting!! Wdym Demetri was supposedly extremely pissed at Hawk, but then they’re sitting together like normal at the bar? Wdym they’re suddenly ganging up on Kenny together?? IT MAKES NO SENSE!!!

Speaking of the Kenny thing, it directly contradicts Demetri’s character for him to be suspicious of Kenny. He was suspicious of him because he immediately forgave Devon for the laxatives, but he did that EXACT SAME THING in Season 3!! And his was worse!! He immediately forgave Hawk for months of torment and for BREAKING HIS ARM!!!! I mean, the writers COULD HAVE used that as an opportunity to have him actually reflect on that and ask himself why he decided to be so forgiving if he’s suspicious of Kenny for doing so, but guess what? THEY DIDN’T!!!!!

Hawk’s line to Demetri telling him to not do shitty things if he didn’t wanna face consequences is also extremely contradictory, considering the fact that he’s done some of the most shitty things out of all the teens on the show!! ESPECIALLY TO THE GUY HE WAS SAYING THAT LINE TO!!!!! Hawk did a bunch of shitty things to Demetri, but he never faced any consequences for them! He faced consequences for betraying Cobra Kai mid-house-fight through them shaving his mohawk, and he faced consequences for being a general asshole through him being an outcast in the beginning of Season 4, but he never faced any consequences SPECIFICALLY for what he put Demetri through. Again, the writers COULD HAVE used it for some reflection, BUT THEY DIDN’T!!!! GOSH!!!!!

Their conflict this season was SOLELY a plot device to make them uncoordinated and therefore bad at fighting because the writers knew that if they were coordinated then they would’ve been slamming all those other wack ass dojos from the beginning. That was it. Both characters came out largely unchanged, if not worse, than before.

The locker room make-up scene was good, but it irks me when I remember that none of their REAL problems were solved by it. I start tweaking out when I remember that they’re still never gonna be able to actually talk about their issues. Like wdym it’s canon that Demetri still has some kind of repressed hurt over having his arm broken but is never gonna actually address it :(( the dick CANNOT be that good for him to keep forgiving and forgetting im begging 😭🙏

TLDR: I’m tweaking out way too much over fictional gay people

#I’m still tweaking out about this #this probably doesn’t even make any sense but I don’t care #WHY bring up the arm if they aren’t gonna bring it up again like what was the point genuinely #it feels like them in Part One and them in Part Two were written by entirely different people #hashbrown let demetri get mad at hawk/eli for everything he did to him 2024 #hashbrown let him have trauma over the time his bestie held him down and snapped his arm in half 2024 #binary boyfriends #hawkmetri #demetri alexopoulos #eli moskowitz #cobra kai #ck

68 notes · View notes

cassiebones · 17 days ago

Text

Prompt from @imyouraziraphale

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

"We need a Christmas tree."

"We have a Christmas tree, Nicholas," Agatha said, pointing to the corner of the room where their tree sat.

"Mama, that is a drawing. It's not even in color!"

"It was good enough last year," Agatha huffed, crossing her arms. Her son gave her a look that may as well have been her own reflection and she groaned.

"We need a real tree," Nicky insisted. "Like the one in the mall!"

"That one is way too big for our tiny house, baby," Agatha sighed.

"Okay, but at least one that isn't made of paper," he rebutted, pointing at Agatha's sad little drawing taped to the wall.

"You do know where paper comes from, don't you?" Agatha asked.

"Mama."

"Okay, fine," Agatha huffed. "We'll go to the tree farm in Eastview tomorrow, okay? Jeez."

"Thanks!" He pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek and all but skipped out of the room. Agatha bit back the smile until he was out of view, shaking her head in adoration.

Vidal's Trees was somehow still open on Christmas Eve, but the pickings were slim for trees by this point. Nicky held tightly to Agatha's hand as he dragged her around the lot, examining tree's with a severe gaze, circling them, sniffing them, feeling their branches. Agatha watched him, half-amused, as she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the New Jersey December chill. The sun was already going down and the temperature was dropping with it.

"Coffee?" Agatha turned to find a woman standing next to her, offering a steaming paper cup, a wry smile on her face. Agatha felt her cheeks warm at the other woman's presence. She was gorgeous, with medium-length, raven-black hair in a braid, wisps of hair coming out. She had several piercings in both ears and a stud on the right side of her nose. She wore a denim jacket with fur lining and a crocheted scarf sticking out with the lesbian pride flag colors (jackpot! a dumb voice in Agatha's mind supplied), and her dark jeans were tight and tucked into a pair of thick leather boots.

"It's free," the woman said when Agatha just stared at the offered cup. "Complimentary for customers. We also have hot chocolate." She nodded at Nicky, who was still circling the tree. "In the office over yonder." She nodded to a little cabin about twenty yards away.

"Yonder?" Agatha echoed, snorting as she finally accepted the cup. "I didn't know people said that this far north."

The woman smiled and shrugged. "My grandfather used to say it all the time," she said. "It kinda just stuck with me, I guess."

"It's cute," Agatha commented, taking a sip of the coffee. She sighed as the warmth spread through her. "Oh my Goddess, this coffee is amazing. What's in it?"

"Nothing special," the woman said, blushing slightly. "It's just some blend I get from the cafe I work at part-time. I just have a way with the coffee machine, I think."

"Well, if your touch with the hot chocolate is even remotely similar, I think my son would love some, if he ever decided on a tree, anyway." She looked at Nicky, who was testing the branches again. "Is this the one?" she asked, a little impatiently.

"I don't think so..." Nicky said, sounding disappointed. "There are a couple of bare spots and a lot of the branches are snapped. I don't think it would look very good in our house."

"Well, that's what we get for coming out last-second," Agatha sighed, offering an apologetic smile to the other woman. "Sorry to have wasted your time. How much do I owe you for the coffee?"

"Nothing," the woman said. "It's complimentary, remember?"

"For customers," Agatha said. "Based on the options you have left, I don't think we're going to be customers today."

In all honesty, the tree that Nicky had been considering was the best that Agatha could see. Everything else was either taken or worse off than this one was. She was doubtful that he'd be willing to take any of them home with him.

Pity. Maybe next year.

She pulled a couple dollar bills from her pocket and offered them to the raven-haired beauty, but the other woman refused to take them.

"Actually," she said, "I do have one more tree that you might want to see. Follow me."

She started walking away and Nicky immediately darted after her.

"Nicholas!" Agatha groaned, hastening to follow him without falling on her ass in the snow. She caught up to them closer to the cabin, following the two of them around the back of it.

Oh, great, a voice inside her head said, she's probably a murderer about to kill us in her shed. Well, I lived a good life, I guess.

"Here we are," the woman said, stopping just behind her cabin. There stood about four trees, in varying sizes, all in near-perfect condition. Seriously, if you looked up "Christmas tree" in the encyclopedia, there would be a picture of any one of these trees.

They were still rooted, too.

"They're perfect!" Nicky practically squealed, bouncing on his feet. "Can I pick any one of them?" he asked the woman, looking at her with his big brown eyes.

"It's up to your...mother?" She looked at Agatha. "I don't want to assume."

"Your assumption would be correct," Agatha said. "I am his mother."

"I'm sure your husband would approve of this one," the woman said.

Agatha wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. Nicky let out a laugh.

"Mama doesn't like boys!" he snickered. "And she's not married."

Her son, A+ wingman.

"Oh," the woman said, smiling at Agatha. "That's...interesting."

"Is it?" Agatha asked, her eyes flickering down to the scarf around the other woman's neck. She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. "Agatha, by the way." She offered her hand.

The other woman shook it with a toothy grin. She had the tiniest, most adorable gap in her front teeth. "Rio Vidal," she said.

"Of Vidal's Trees?" She let out a dramatic gasp. "I had no idea that I was in the presence of a local celebrity."

"Ha!" Rio said, shaking her head. "Hardly. My parents own this place. They're just down in San Juan for the winter, visiting family and whatnot. I've been tasked with wrapping business up for the season before I go join them in a couple weeks."

Agatha furrowed her brow. "You're alone for Christmas?" she asked, frowning. "That...sucks."

"Bad word!" Nicky exclaimed. "You owe me a dollar."

"You owe me your existence," Agatha huffed in return. He rolled his eyes. She smirked at him then turned back to Rio.

"It's fine," she said. "Christmas was never a huge event, anyway. It's always just been my parents and me. Dad can't really take the cold anymore, so once the temperature starts to drop into the teens, he heads south with my mom. I'm usually there by Christmas, but this year the earliest flight I could get was after New Year's. It's fine, though. Really. We'll celebrate the holidays, then."

"But won't Santa bring you presents still?" Nicky asked, looking genuinely concerned. "Don't your mommy and daddy want to see you unwrap them tomorrow morning?"

"I told Santa Claus to bring all my presents to their house in San Juan," Rio said, crouching to his height. "So I'll open all his gifts for me, just a little bit late. It's okay, though; I can wait."

Nicky still looked unsure. Then, he turned to his mother, tugging at her hand and motioning him down as Rio straightened up. Agatha offered Rio a bashful smile as she crouched down next to her son, letting him whisper in her ear.

"Can we invite her to our house for Christmas Eve?" Nicky whispered in Agatha's ear, making a blush bloom on her face so big that it reached the tips of her ears.

"Nicky..." Agatha whispered back, shaking her head.

"Please, Mama?" he begged, giving her those big brown eyes and his little pout and Good Goddess she had pretty much taught him that, hadn't she? Damn her.

Agatha took a deep breath, nodding as she stood, ignoring the protest in her knees as she did so.

"Rio," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as the other woman's warm gaze met hers, "would you like to join us for Christmas?"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "Oh," she said, a pretty pink spreading over her cheeks. "Um, that's really nice of you to offer, but you don't have to..."

"I insist," Agatha said, feeling Nicky tugging at her hand again. "So does he." She motioned to her son, who hit Rio with that same brown puppy dog stare of his. It proved lethal: Agatha watched as Rio melted under it, offering him a soft smile.

"Okay," she said. "If you insist. I would be happy to join you for Christmas."

"And Christmas Eve, too!" Nicky said. "We're having a party!"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "You are?" she asked.

Agatha took a deep breath, squeezing her son's hand back as she nodded. "We are. A few friends for dinner," she said. "Nothing special."

"We're playing Pictionary!" Nicky said. "Auntie Jen is super competitive! And Aunt Lilia makes really good cannolis!"

"You know," Rio said, smiling down at him, "I happen to love Pictionary and cannolis, so that sounds pretty great to me." She grinned up at Agatha, who smiled back softly. "If you don't mind, of course."

"I wouldn't have let him mention it if I did," Agatha said with a chuckle. "Here, let me get your number and I'll text you my address." She opened a 'New Contact' tab in her phone and offered it to Rio, who was visibly blushing. Agatha's face matched hers and she cleared her throat as their fingers brushed in the exchange.

Nicky watched them with a grin, squeezing his mother's hand a little. When Agatha looked down at him, she found his eyes twinkling. She made a face at him and he giggled, pressing his face into her side. She let go of his phone, running her fingers through his mop of hair.

"Here," Rio said. "Um, I can't wait until the party. I'm sure I'll kick Auntie Jen's butt at Pictionary," she said, looking down at Nicky, who giggled again.

Agatha smiled at the contact name for Rio ("Tree Girl") and sent a text with her address. There was a chime from Rio's pocket and she plucked out her phone, eyebrows lifting.

"Westview," she said, letting out a low whistle. "Fancy." She smirked up at Agatha. "I'll be there. Should I, uh, bring anything? Drinks, ice, food...a tree?" She nodded toward the four trees in her side yard.

"Oh," Agatha said, her eyes widening. "Right." She considered the four trees of varying sizes. "Um, that one might be the perfect size for our apartment, don't you think, Nicky?"

Nicky considered the second-smallest of the four trees, circling it like a dog looking for the perfect angle to lift his leg. Then he nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I think so. There are no bald spots."

"Perfect, then," Agatha said, turning back to Rio. "How much?"

"Don't worry about it," Rio said. "Consider it a gift."

"Seriously?" Nicky exclaimed, smiling wide. "Awesome!"

"No," Agatha said, looking between him and Rio. "No, we couldn't possibly - "

"Agatha," Rio said, stopping Agatha's words dead on her tongue, "you've just invited me - a stranger - to spend Christmas with you just so I, a grown woman, wouldn't be alone. It's the least I can do to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me," Agatha said. "Besides, it's Christmas; you do good deeds on Christmas, don't you?"

"Then this is my good deed," Rio said. "I got you a Christmas tree. Just say thank you and let me get my axe."

"Your...you're going to cut it down yourself?" Agatha asked, feeling her entire body go hot.

"Of course," Rio snorted. "Do you see anybody else here? How else was I going to get it out of the ground?"

"That is so cool," Nicky said, practically bouncing around in a circle.

Agatha stayed rooted to the ground - much like the four trees behind her - while Rio disappeared around the back of the house and came back seconds later wielding an axe. Her eyes were glued to the other woman as she went to work chopping down the tree, her fists clenching at her sides as many thoughts ran through her mind.

Thoughts she dared not say aloud. Thoughts that would make a stripper blush.

The tree fell to the snow with a muted thud as Rio wiped sweat from her brow, grinning when she caught Agatha still staring at her, a fervent flush on her cheeks. Agatha looked away when Rio met her eyes, clearing her throat.

Rio reached for the end of the tree, pulling it up to her shoulder and dragging it to where there were a bunch of coiled up ropes. Agatha continued to watch her as she tied the tree up, then lifted it like it was nothing, over her shoulder.

"Where's your car?" she asked, tucking some more ropes under her arm. Agatha motioned in the general direction of her car. "Lead the way," Rio said.

Agatha nodded, reaching for her son's hand and practically dragging him in the direction of their car, all while ignoring his knowing smirk as they trudged through the snow, Rio right next to them.

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #nicky harkness #christmas ficlet

60 notes · View notes

hestzhyen · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 57 Cope Posting

Not like this, dear void... not like this. The blessing/curse of Kagurabachi chapters ending in 7 being absolute banger cliffhangers continues and there is not enough copium in the world to get me through to next week. This entry is an absolute mess...

Let's start with practicing on the editor's comments again. Sorry if the colours are hard to read on brighter backgrounds, I live in Dark Mode as much as possible.

First page: ハクリが飛宗の転送に成功! そして- [Hakuri ga Tobimune no tensou ni seikou! Soshite-, Hakuri successfully transfers Tobimune! And then-] Last page: 座村, 漆羽… 事態は混沌へ… [Samura, Uruha... jitai ha konton he..., Samura, Uruha... the situation turns chaotic...] noting that the word used for "situation", jitai (事態), specifically has negative connotations (as opposed to 状況 [joukyou], which is neutral).

These comments are rarely more than fluff just to give the editors some presence in the work itself, so I don't take them as definite indicators of anything going on in the plot. But man. Man. "Bad situation" seems to be putting it lightly. I was ready to take you off the list of possible traitors, Samura! I was seriously going to do it! Whyyyyyyyyyyy

Chihiro and the Pink Menace

Fine, first up... school?

How does our cast stack up to the average student after getting home schooled in murder and cool action poses?

It was obvious to everyone that this arc would involve Chihiro learning about the unpleasant sides of his dad's legacy. So this is just a "hey don't forget" moment for us that also highlights how far removed Hiruhiko and Chihiro are from regular society. Those two (and Hakuri) should be in their last year of high school, complaining about homework or stressing about their future college/job plans right now instead of fighting to the death. Poor guys.

I don't want to presume too much about Hokazono-sensei's views, but I really like directly acknowledging that winners write history and so their wartime cruelty is often downplayed or re-framed as heroism. These kids and even Chihiro only know the revised version of what happened, not the truth of the matter.

Home schooled Chihiro confirmed! Kinda!

Anyway, some more John Plan Reveal. He wants Chihiro to learn the truth about his father's legacy and the impact it's had- that's why he hasn't been "harvested" yet. This implies that there's some terrible thing that could upend Chihiro's entire worldview to be learned. But we kind of already knew that based on everything I just said.

I hope this isn't a flag for John trying to convince Chihiro to join him. There are awful secrets that are going to be unearthed about Kunishige and the Kamunabi this arc for sure, but it's kind of a waste of our time to do the "oooh it was worse than you thought why don't you join us to set things right" rigamarole.

Obviously the Hishaku have some compelling reasons to do all this if they can get someone as loath to kill as Samura on their side to murk his war buddies. It's just never gonna convince Chihiro so I hope we don't get a moralizing yapfest to accompany John's outstretched hand. I trust the writing though! So far it's been almost nothing but excellence so... chill, me. Just wait and see.

I think that no matter what happens Chihiro will continue to forge his own path with allies who care for him at his side. He won't choose the government's path, or the Hishaku's, or even his dad's- he'll create something new. Standard stuff for a shounen series but I never get tired of seeing it!

Before moving on to the coping session, there's something neat in this scene that I want to ramble about:

Local yapper yaps while the guy listening to him literally overthinks

I'll use the JP version if I have to, but I like how Chihiro's inner monologue deliberately overruns Hiruhiko's speech bubble to show that he's not paying full attention while his thoughts are in overdrive. He's still partially listening but he's not quite as composed as he appears to be on the outside, which is confirmed by the close-up zoom into his stressed look with the sweat drops. Yet when we zoom out, he seems a bit more put-together like usual. He's still exhausted from yesterday, man! Really should have rested up... at least the author acknowledges it. (Forced bed rest soon? Hopefully?)

This is how Hiruhiko was able to get the drop on Chihiro. Chihiro's got a lot on his mind and he has trouble focusing, just like Uruha chided him for on the train. His resolve is unshaken but he's still prone to wavering in the moment as he tries to process things. He even misses the fist time Samura's name was mentioned! Clearly Chihiro needs Hakuri or Uruha or someone there to yell encouragement at the right time to stop him from getting lost in his own head. But he's got a lot to think about and work through right now, so it's understandable why he's so stressed out.

Poor Chihiro. He's coming to the conclusions that we, the readers privileged with having weeks IRL to ponder new information, came to long ago. The Master is not treated like a hero but a prisoner, and probably for very, very good reasons. Ones good enough to convince Samura to make a deal with the devil.

What Actually Happened?!

Not all the blades have themes from nature, it seems. Geisha offered many different types of entertainment to guests, from performing music to conversation to serving sake. So now we have the idea behind the name [Swaying Sake]!

First up to delay just a little longer: Kumeyuri power reveal! Seems to be based in some kind of performing arts aesthetic with the geisha that were conjured. Fitting for the guy who wears kabuki eye make-up right? ...And for the next bearer, who interrupted a kabuki performance to pick it up in a theater... I see you and your foreshadowing, Hokazono-sensei.

Fine. I'll admit it. The ending of the chapter makes it crystal clear that Hiruhiko is the new bearer contracted to Kumeyuri by having his origami butterflies come undone as he grasps the hilt in his teeth. Can't even hope it's another case of someone "borrowing" power like Kyora did with the Shinuchi of the bunch.

Magatsumi's the only blade that can be used by someone not contracted to it, hence the extra protections it needed.

So that means... yeah. Uruha's gone. Just like that.

There will be thousands of theories about what exactly happened to Uruha, why Samura made a deal with John, what the details of that deal were- we'll get the truth soon. I'm most interested in the reasoning that ties into Samura's sincere beliefs of killing being an evil act.

The burden of death weighs so heavily on him that he blinded himself in penance. But he's willing to let his own apprentice die -probably even kill him himself!- because of... what? What was so horrible about fighting with the Master and Kunishige's weapons for the good of the nation? What compelled him to help the Hishaku kill the remaining bearers and upend the peace they earned?!

Hey, Samura. Is it really so bad to be called a war hero while being treated like a prisoner in a comfortable government-provided jail facility? Is it so horrible that "alternative facts" pass for real history to bury whatever horrors you witnessed and possibly perpetrated? Is it truly awful to have people willing to die for you despite all the grave sins you've committed? That they're likely completely unaware of thanks to government propaganda and being too young to have witnessed the truth?

...I need those Seitei War flashbacks pronto.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

Wait a minute. Jail? Even the friggin' onsen?

Yup! The Master's the only one being treated like a dangerous criminal outright, but the 慚箱 [sanso] are just dressed up prisons for the Bearers. The Kamunabi ain't even subtle about it.

慚 [san] - to feel shame 箱 [sou] - box

The government put these guys in specially-constructed (or repurposed) buildings officially referred to as "shame boxes" and told them they couldn't leave. Even the name given to one of them is a bit much! 国獄温泉 [Kokugoku Onsen] translates to:

国 [koku]- country/state/national government 獄 [goku]- jail/prison 温泉 [onsen] - hot spring

Gee, I wonder if Uruha was having a good time at State Prison Hot Springs?

That said, while there may well be some bitterness between the Bearers and the Kamunabi, it's not the main motivating factor for Samura. His is definitely rooted in how they all acted during the war and how guilty he feels now that they're promoted as heroes.

*----------------------------------------------------------------------------*

It looks like Chihiro's being summoned by Hakuri in the very last panel so we might get some perspective on Samura's reasoning next week. Probably no clear answers right away, but at least enough to see if he really was the one who killed Uruha and a bit of insight into why. And to see if Uruha's dead at all... I mean, if we don't see a body... let me be delusional, okay?!

I'm just not able to go all-in on believing Uruha's dead. But it's not because I don't think he actually is... it just doesn't feel real after spending weeks preparing to let go of Samura. Not to mention the tried-and-true tactic of baiting out strong emotions with implied character deaths.

Normally I don't take death foreshadowing like this too seriously in shounen series. I just wait to see if the author is faking me out or not before getting stressed (unless it's Hakuri, in which case I stress responsibly). But Kagurabachi is a series that lured the MC with a child's severed leg and showed two suicide attempts on-screen, one of which was horrifically successful- right in front of someone who was already traumatized too. Hell we lost most of the anti-Kuregumo squad without much fanfare back in the Sojo arc! Only actually showing a child being tortured on-screen is too much, apparently. This series is dark as hell when the author wants it to be and Uruha's death is probably another one of those times.

There's hope in me that Uruha can still come out of this alive just because I like him so much, but I want the author to follow through on his death when it's presented as such an ominously real scenario. All signs point to Uruha being a goner, so don't make it look iron-clad then say "nah" the next chapter with some technicality that we couldn't have known about until the reveal. I would rather lose Uruha in an unexpectedly painful way than be faked out just to get the reaction out of me, y'know? Don't toy with me. Commit to crushing my heart, dammit.

But, God... oh man. I fell for the bait and got stupidly attached to a Bearer in the arc named after killing them. I even knew bad times were coming because of all the levity at the start of the arc but still went on hoping nothing would happen so soon. Laugh at me, I deserve it. I probably helped this manifest by mentioning how awful it would be if Chihiro found out a Bearer died because Hiruhiko was able to contract with one of the blades. Saying "I crave the angst that will come from this situation with every fiber of my being" in a post tag was overkill. It's just:

Author: names the arc after assassinating the bearers

Reader: gets attached anyway

Author: assassinates a bearer

Reader: ╚(•⌂•)╝

Coping Theory

May as well put my two cents in on how it could have gone down while I'm here...

I wonder if he planned to die in the raid instead so it looked like an unavoidable accident, sparing everyone else from the carnage.

This exact sequence- the Makizumi talking about honor in death for saving Samura, and Uruha's words that the Bearer's lives need to be valued above others'- is what solidifies Samura's resolve. This man is filled to the brim with guilt and self-loathing (much like another swordsman we know). He cannot save himself, but... perhaps he can take some equally bad sinners down with him for the greater good. He's not only a mirror for Hakuri, but Chihiro as well- one's resolve to save no matter the cost to one's self, and one's resolve to go to hell for what they believe is right. That's how I'm reading this until we get his own insight on the matter, at least.

It's not a stretch to infer that Samura thinks the Bearers are better off dead in large part due to the powers they command and things that were done during the war. That's still a huge mystery to be unraveled but I mean:

Seeing the bare minimum of Magatsumi in action really drives home how horrific these "heroes" could seem out on the battle field doesn't it? No wonder the clone sorcerer described the Seitei war as "hell on earth". But the public has no knowledge of this. They only got the sanitized version fit for PR purposes and feel-good stories.

The Hishaku seem to be intent on dismantling this image. Perhaps that's how they got Samura on their side? Not sure how the current Bearers dying and giving the Hishaku access to that dreadful power is better than the status quo, but that's something that will become clear with more reveals about the ideology driving the group. Maybe Samura doesn't care so much about the rest of the world and just wants to do what's best for the truth that's been buried under nearly two decade's worth of secrecy.

As to what happened with Uruha... two things come to mind. One I think is more likely, and one I want to cling to until it's ripped away as I sob and beg for just one little bit of comfort.

Most likely, I think Samura and Uruha had an exchange about ideals and the value of their lives. Samura overpowered Uruha per the plan as the "trump card" and that was that.

In delulu land, I want Samura to have been double-crossed. As in he made a deal on the condition that the lives of the people he cared about would be spared, but of course Uruha couldn't be allowed to live. So the Hishaku ensured that he'd die there no matter what. It's a bunk theory since Mr. Hatshaku left once the situation turned against him... maybe incorporate some of the datenseki mind control stuff in there somehow? I don't know. Just let me have this until canon proves otherwise.

Hakuri and Chihiro, Though?! And Miscellaneous Questions

(Ch. 46) I'm not going to be okay for a while and neither are they.

Best boys are really gonna go through it no matter what Chihiro is summoned back to. They'll be in a rough way... not only did they lose Uruha and hand Kumeyuri to Hiruhiko, but Samura betrayed them all... oof. So much for proving themselves to the Kamunabi. They're going to get an earful and be set back in the "negotiations" big time.

No doubt Chihiro will put this burden on his shoulders too, even if no one could have predicted Samura's defection to the enemy. It's his dad's legacy that's causing all this strife right now. He'll be more motivated than ever to unravel the war's true history and I'll be right there with him hoping he doesn't push himself too hard or harshly. The son shouldn't be responsible for the sins his father committed before he was even born. But that's just like, my opinion, man.

Meanwhile...

"I'm still good for it," wheezes the guy with blood gushing out of his nose at an alarming rate.

Hakuri will probably blame himself too. Depending on how things shake out, it could be for anything from accidentally arming a traitor to seeing someone die in front of him again. There's a good chance he'll (temporarily) lose the thing that makes him useful too, so that'll be an extra layer of angst for him to deal with. What value does a broken tool that couldn't fulfill it's one purpose have?

I also wonder what prompted Hakuri to summon Chihiro away from Hiruhiko. He's kind of in rough shape to do it just 'cause he misses his (boy)friend. They have cell phones to communicate with so it seems a bit abrupt to summon him back without checking first. Hakuri's also not the type to impose on someone to protect him. Nor is he the type to drop Chihiro into the middle of a life-or-death situation without a sense of mutual understanding first. So there had to be some kind of pressing need. The timeline of events means he's summoning Chihiro right after Uruha was killed, so... more soulmate stuff maybe? Their souls call out to each other and resonate when they're in distress, after all (it's canon baybeeeeee). They're in perfect harmony and all that. Sorry for the shipping nonsense I just need any bit of fluff I can get right now.

So many questions that might not get answered...

What about the Makizumi? Will they defect to serve Samura? Or will they try to help get Hakuri to safety with the Kamunabi? Samura doesn't want to kill them at all so no matter what happens they'll live at least. Hooray an elite squad that didn't bite the dust... (I think they will choose Samura because of everything he did for them).

How did Hiruhiko know when Kumeyuri was usable anyway?! Was it some signal from his mystery supporter that was lurking outside the window? And who was that- did Worst Jeanist show up?

Samura's loath to kill innocents, but does Hakuri count as one? Would losing his sorcery be enough to count him as neutralized for the Hishaku's purposes? Was exhausting Hakuri the main reason why Hiruhiko sent all the forces to the temple in the first place?

Hiruhiko wasn't surprised to see Tobimune disappear, so the Hishaku probably know about Hakuri's power. Their mole within the Kamunabi should get a bonus for the turnaround time on learning that bit of info and sending it on. Unless John's playing 5D chess and knew about Hakuri's awakening and team-up with Chihiro before they even met the Kamunabi anyway... perhaps even orchestrated it too... that would definitely need a very good explanation.

Alright. Okay. Let's wait on tenterhooks together, dear void. No waterworks until they show the body, got it?

[sob]

#kagurabachi #long post #More convinced than ever that the Seitei War was a civil war #Saving the Hakuri Development Arc prospects yap for another chapter or two to see exactly how all this plays out #But I think he'll be finding his own path between Samura Uruha and his family's just like Chihiro #Uruha... not like this...

45 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 1 year ago

Note

There’s a new book out called The Darcy Myth that says in the summary that P&P is actually a “horror novel” about how scary love is for women… I know the Bennet sisters’ situation is precarious but to call it a “horror novel” ? :P

Okay... so... ug.... did this woman even read Pride & Prejudice? Because from the news coverage I would say no. Let me highlight some passages from the article:

Darcy should be considered the main antagonist of the famous love story

Not Wickham? Not the man who runs off with literal teenage girls?

Darcy pays Wickham to marry Lydia, saving her reputation, and later tells Elizabeth, “I thought only of you” when acting. For Feder, this phrase is proof of the hero’s self-interest. Darcy condemns Lydia to a life with an amoral man, all so the Bennets don’t become so disreputable that he won’t be able to marry the woman he loves.

Um, sorry, but no. Darcy tried to get Lydia away FIRST, she refused, he respected Lydia's autonomy as a human being. Becoming brother-in-law to Wickham was probably worse for Darcy personally than Lydia being "ruined"

I found Feder’s exploration of “Pride and Prejudice”as a Gothic novel — rather than a comedy of manners — far more compelling than her critique of Darcy.

Wut? No. Not even a little bit, what? That is a different genre.

“Darcy helped codify the dominant expectation that potential romantic partners — especially heterosexual men — are not only still eligible but in fact more appealing when they play a little hard to get, even if playing hard to get involves cruelty, insults, expressions of disinterest, ruining your beloved sister’s chances of happiness, and other red flags,” she writes. Women spend their time, energy and emotions on men who, quite simply, are not worth their effort.

Okay, except ELIZABETH NEVER TRIES ANYTHING WITH DARCY. She just sits there and he falls in love with her. If she did put effort into any relationship it was with Wickham, who again, is presented as a massive red flag in the end. This line of argument is wild.

Yet, seeing the sheer number of times women pursue cruel men in pop culture laid out one after another — in Disney movies, Taylor Swift songs and much more — is affecting. Feder concludes convincingly that this cultural conviction harms women in the same way the patriarchal boundaries of the regency did. She writes: “If we zoom out, we see that the Darcy myth also helps to prop up and fortify a very Gothic, patriarchal universe that is, and always has been, scary for anyone who is not a very particular type of man. After all, if we are trained from childhood to invest ourselves in men who treat us poorly, aren’t we more likely to end up in abusive situations and under threat of assault?”

Okay, so this is a valid point, but it also is based on a misreading of Pride & Prejudice or is heavily influenced by adaptations. Darcy isn't cruel, he's snobby and somewhat rude but definitely NOT cruel. Wickham is exactly the type of man you want to avoid: charming until he isn't.

ALSO WHAT DISNEY PRINCE IS AN ASSHOLE??? @princesssarisa? Can you be offended at that one in my stead?

So... this book sounds like rage-bait insanity and I won't be reading it until proved otherwise. Putting it on the avoid shelf along with Secret Radical.

Last note: There is a valid point to be made that jerks or dark broody men have been romanticized, but Austen DOES NOT DO THAT. That is not an Austen thing. Use an actual problematic Gothic or Byronic hero.

#question response #this is nuts #the darcy myth #just looks like rage bait to me #the arguments are nonsensical #Now I'm going to have to fight this book on Reddit too #oh joy

312 notes · View notes

eunseoksimp · 6 months ago

Note

Omg can you please write part 2 on infatuation where a third person get involved and wonbin losing his shit , you can end it however you like , I love your writing and i am always looking forward to your post, and also no pressure at all🫶🏻

hi anon, sorry this is so late (it was literally sitting in my drafts for three months). at first i had no intentions of writing a part two tbh, but i thoroughly enjoyed writing this up, as you can tell by the wc!

Pairing:Toxic! Park Wonbin x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warning: wonbin is possibly the worst human being alive, reader may be slightly irritating with how flaky her emotions are, manipulation, gaslighting, strong language, wc is somehow 17.5k.

read part 1 here.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the cafe hummed with the gentle murmur of conversation, a soothing backdrop against the backdrop of your melancholy. you sat alone at a small corner table, your presence subdued amidst the vibrant surroundings. outside, the soft drizzle of rain painted intricate patterns on the windowpane, mirroring the intricate turmoil of your emotions.

yunjin arrived, her footsteps light but purposeful as she navigated through the cosy cafe. her eyes immediately sought out yours, a flicker of concern crossing her features at the sight of her friend's solemn demeanour.

‘you look like shit,’ yunjin deadpanned as she slid into the seat across from you. although you couldn’t quite blame her for her bluntness.

the bags under your eyes ran deep, a hollow emptiness emboldening your irises. your skin was pale, and cuts lined your lips from the sheer amount of time spent biting them.

you were a shell of your former self. soulless, vacant, moving around without purpose. you had lost your will to continue on, all because you had lost the man you loved.

it was pathetic really, how much your heart ached for him, how he was the one you called out for in the middle of the night when you awoke from your nightmare.

his heart belonged elsewhere now, to someone who wasn’t you. and nothing in the world could have prepared you for how gut wrenching it would be.

tired of your moping, and your lack of responses to her texts, yunjin had invited you out for an informal hangout, something more chill, just to get you to stop wallowing in despair and inhaling fresh air.

‘has that bastard called you?’ she spoke up again after a bit, acrylics tapping on the wooden table, eyes narrowing.

you shook your head, unable to articulate your reality. that maybe wonbin really was gone now. it had been two weeks since that day, the day your spirit was crushed, the day your love was harshly rejected.

despite all of this, you desperately wanted him to reach out to you again, just to hear his voice, to be able to smell him again, to have him in your arms, fingers tangled in his hair.

it was torturous, agonising, like a cruel joke that you were the only one not in on. how did things change so suddenly?

‘i swear if i see him i’ll kill him for you. i’ll cut his dick off and make him eat it,’ your friend was visibly upset for you, but a sick part of yourself worried for wonbin, not wanting anything bad to happen.

‘don’t,’ you say softly, picking at your nails, the familiar feeling of your throat tightening quick to accompany your already somber mood.

‘you still love him?’ yunjin sighs, reaching forward to take your hands in hers and giving it a squeeze. there were no traces of judgement in her voice, just pity.

it was a pathetic situation. a guy had strung you along for a year, told you sweet lies, pressed kisses across your face and looked you directly in the eyes as he said over and over again that he loved you.

you were blinded, unable to see the obvious red flags. it wasn’t normal to continue to stay with someone who gets a new girl. you must be stupid.

but what made things worse, was the fact that you still loved him. you yearned for him, a part of yourself still within his clutches.

you didn’t even realise you were crying until yunjin leaned forward, thumbs swiping at the tears.

‘you deserve more than him love. someone who will cherish you, and only you. he used you, like a prick, none of this is your fault,’ she had moved her chair next to yours now, cradling you in her arms as she patted your shoulder.

what could be more than park wonbin? what would be more radiant, more daring, more intoxicating than he was?

‘i just want him,’ you sob, and she soothes you by rubbing circles on your back whilst you try to stop hiccuping.

‘it’ll get better, i’ll make sure of it.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

2 weeks has slowly morphed into a month. 28 days without wonbin’s touch, without his presence in your life.

you wish you could say that things had gotten easier, but time was not a healer of your broken heart. the more the days went by, the more you suffered. every night you chewed your lip as you stared at his contact information, willing him to finally call you.

to do something. to not treat you like you no longer existed. to go back to being the one that you had fallen in love with.

but no matter how much you sobbed, or you suffered through your days with a weight on your chest, he wouldn’t return to you.

‘we’re going out. to a party,’ yunjin announces as she waltzes into your room, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head before she settles into the spot next to you on your bed.

‘party? yujin i-‘

‘oh no you don’t get a say. you’re coming, that’s final,’ she cuts you off, and you sigh in defeat, knowing that she was too stubborn for you to be able to win this battle.

seeing as it was already decided that your evening would be spent surrounded by sweaty bodies and excessive levels of alcohol consumption, you mourned the night you had planned of having, consisting of cheesy romantic comedies and various tubs of ice cream.

it was silent, yunjin busy tapping away on her phone, fingers moving furiously as she quietly spoke out what she wanted to type, sometimes pausing to think about her response.

‘that guy i was telling you about last week, you know mark lee-‘ she starts talking, but her eyes were still glued to her phone, and another buzz of her phone let you know that she was clearly still in the middle of texting.

‘sorry love,’ she apologises, eventually putting her phone down and now giving you her undivided attention, turning so her body was now facing yours.

‘anyways you remember mark lee right? the one i’m talking to. his best friend is having a party tonight and i thought it would be good for you to come.’

‘you really like him?’ you take note of the way her face lights up just by mentioning his name, suppressing the smile creeping on her lips, eyes looking down at the hands folded in her lap.

you wondered if this was what you looked like to others whenever you talked about wonbin.

‘i like him, and i have a good feeling he likes me too.’

‘then that’s all i need to hear. let’s go to that stupid party,’ you’ve barely got your words out before she’s squealing, flinging her arms around your neck and climbing onto your lap, pressing wet kisses all over your cheeks.

‘i promise you won’t regret it. he has this one friend, donghyuck, and i need you to meet him asap,’ she pressed one last kiss to your head, before sliding off of your legs and returning back to her spot on the bed.

‘i don’t want anyone other than wonbin.’

‘i’m not asking you to date him silly. he’s just a really good guy and i think he’s the energy you need right now.’

you hum in response, a question at the tip of your tongue, but it’s like you’re too scared to utter it. and so you go back and forth in your mind, wondering if it’s worth mentioning it.

‘spill it. you look like you’re putting yourself through torture,’ your best friend knows you too well, spotting the telltale signs that you were anxious, down to the chewing of your bottom lip and the twiddling of the ring on your finger.

‘do you think- um- do you think that, you know-‘ it’s hard to get the words out, with the way your heart was pounding ridiculously in your chest, thoughts racing at a million miles a minute.

yunjin scoots a bit closer, putting her hand on your knee, clearly able to see that what you wanted to ask was troubling you.

‘go on babe, you can say it,’ she encourages you, patting your knee.

‘um- do you think wonbin will be there?’

her face softens, a look of sympathy flashing across her face at your question.

‘i don’t think so.’

you’re not sure whether that’s a good thing or not. there was nothing that could prepare you to come face to face with park wonbin again without breaking down. but there was still that fleeting feeling; you wanted him back.

‘let’s forget about park wonbin tonight,’ yunjin says as she pats your knee twice, before standing up and heading towards your closet to look for your outfit for the night.

forget about park wonbin. could you do that?

the question continued to circulate in your mind, even as yunjin pulls you into the chair in front of your mirror to start your makeup, clearly not a novice as she primed, and patted and set your face. even as she managed to convince you that the black mini dress that she shoved into your arms was ‘the perfect length’, and that you were too young to be worrying about modesty.

‘you look amazing. fuck park wonbin,’ she spins you around to face your vanity mirror and you blink twice, taking aback by the person staring back at you. It had been months since you had even bothered to care about your appearance, your self confidence depleting to dangerously low levels, as you wished that you lived in an alternate world, where your beauty, just like ning ning’s was enough to keep wonbin from walking away.

but for the first time in a while you felt a surge of confidence, a newfound poise about who you were, about what you could be.

‘you deserve to have fun tonight. to remember what it feels like to be happy.”

she finishes your look with a pair of silver earrings which you’re sure you’ve only seen her wear once due to how precious she regarded it to be. yet here she was, without a thought, handing them to you.

‘thank you, yunjin,” you murmur, your heart swelling with gratitude. ‘i don’t know what I’d do without you.’

she grinned in response, pulling you into a quick hug. ‘that’s what best friends are for. now, let’s go show the world just how fabulous you are.’

you make your way to the front door, the sounds of the night already beckoning. grabbing your clutch, taking one last glance in the hallway mirror, the woman staring back at you looked poised, ready, but inside, you knew you were teetering on the edge of something unknown.

stepping out into the cool evening air, yunjin linked arms with you, a gesture of solidarity.

‘just remember, tonight is about you. about having fun and forgetting all the bad stuff. you’ve got this.’

you nod, taking strength from your friend’s unwavering confidence. together, you head towards the car, the promise of the party ahead a beacon of hope. as the engine roared to life, you let yourself believe, if only for a moment, that tonight could be the beginning of something new, a step towards healing and rediscovery.

the city lights blurred past as yunjin drove, chatting animatedly about the party, filling the silence with her infectious enthusiasm. by the time you arrived, a flicker of excitement sparkled within you, a small flame of anticipation amidst the shadows of her past.

turning off the engine, your friend takes one more good look at you.

‘fuck park wonbin.’

‘yeah, fuck him.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

forgetting park wonbin seemed to be a more difficult task than you had thought. all through the night your eyes were busy, sifting through the crowds, vigilant and curious as you swept over every single corner of the party you were in, in order to see if he would turn up.

it wasn’t like you were doing it on purpose, you were sure that the amount of time spent in the car reassuring and psyching yourself up were done through your genuine attempts of bravely moving on. but, as predicted, you no longer belonged to yourself. a part of you was still with wonbin, and your being desperately ached to feel whole again, with him.

‘having fun?’ you almost topple over as yunjin flings herself onto you, her arms latching around your neck as she presses kisses up your neck. you knew she wanted to be by your side the whole night, yet seeing the way her and mark were exchanging extremely intense eye contact from across the room, you pushed her towards the equally shy male and told her to enjoy yourself.

now she had returned, with a few unfamiliar faces with her, each of them waiting to be introduced as they watched the interaction between you and your best friend.

‘hey, i’m mark lee. it’s really nice to meet you,’ he’s the first to extend his hand towards you when yunjin pulls away, a bashful but nevertheless bright smile on his face as you greet him back with a firm grasp of his own hands.

‘it’s nice to meet you too. trust me, i’ve heard quite a bit about you too.’ you’re both laughing as yunjin turns red, reaching forward to playfully hit your shoulder.

‘this is my best friend donghyuck. super annoying and popular but he’s a great guy.’

a boy a couple inches taller than you steps forward, till the both of you are a few inches apart and you almost forget your composure as you stared at him. his honey kissed skin appeared ethereal, illuminated by the dim light cascading around the space you were in, beauty spots littering the expanse of his face. jet black strands fell elegantly in soft waves over his forehead, styled to perfection but still looking so effortless. his eyes were deep and warm, a shade of brown that held a quiet intensity, drawing you in.

the jacket he had on was immediately slipped off and delicately placed around your own shoulders. how did he know you were feeling cold?

‘nice to meet you, i’m donghyuck.’

there was a charm that he possessed, one that captivated you and made you want to pay attention to whatever he was saying. such beauty was paired with genuine geniality, and you wondered how you had never come across him before. he was clearly popular, judging by the looks thrown at him by multiple different girls parading past him, but he never gave them much acknowledgement or seemed smug about it.

‘thanks for the jacket by the way,’ you express your gratitude towards him, offering him a small smile which he returns, all while yunjin shoots you a wink, pushing mark towards the middle of the dance floor and leaving you two alone.

‘it’s my pleasure. i couldn’t have you freezing to death at my party,’ you both laugh at his comment and you admire the way he is able to slip into the space next to you with ease, a wide grin on his face as he nudges you slightly.

maybe it was the small sips of alcohol you had taken, or the way the music seemed to surround you, the bass of the speakers vibrating in a steady rhythm that mimicked your heartbeat, or how the lights had paled to a vibrant blue and dancing across the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues over the mingling guests, but something about this atmosphere made you feel alive. your blood was pumping, everything moving in slow motion as if it was a scene in a movie.

‘this is good,’ you tilt your head back slightly, revelling in the moment, and exhale as if you were letting go of all of the problems you had prior to this. you hear a low chuckle, not needing to open your eyes to know that it was donghyuck.

‘glad you’re enjoying yourself. you look even prettier when you’re relaxed,’ your eyes flash open, trying to decipher what it was he was trying to do. but there was no ulterior motive detected by him, simply sipping from the beer can in his left hand, observing other partygoers.

as you begin to talk you notice how good of a listener he is, attentive to every word spoken, his whole body turned to face you as a show of his concentration. oddly enough, you feel safe, like you could say anything and he would take it all in. he had a way of making you feel at ease, his laughter infectious, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, making her heart warm.

‘to be honest i wasn’t that excited to come tonight. life hasn’t been the kindest to me and i would have preferred to curl into a ball and watch 10 things i hate about you. however, it’s nice being here, forgetting about things for a while.’

‘it’s always a good idea to escape the mind. being stuck there for too long makes it like a prison that will trap you in the same darkness till you can break free.’

you nod in agreement, slowly digesting his words. you were not a stranger to being stuck in your own mind, the past two months being a testament to it.

it’s silent for a while, but nothing about it is uncomfortable. there is a serene sense of contentment, two people who feel they’re in the right place at the right time.

‘there’s something about you,’ he says after a while, that intense stare trained back on you, and you fight the urge to cower away from it.

‘is that a good something? or a bad one?’

the question is left unanswered for a time, hanging in the air and over your figures. time didn’t stop for anyone, but tonight it appeared to slow its momentum, just for you.

‘good, of course.’

you chuckle, holding your hand out for a sip of the beer he seemed to be glued to. but he just shakes his head, disappearing from your side for a second just to get you a fresh one from the cooler. when he emerges again he’s gotten rid of his empty bottle and replaced it with a new one which he sets down on the counter as he works to get yours open first.

you thank him, raising the glass to your lips, the cool liquid slipping down your throat with ease. you gulp almost half of its content down, the taste slightly bitter and tingling your tastebuds but you push through.

donghyuck laughs at the way your face scrunches, your lips pursed as you swallow your last drop. ‘not the biggest fan of beer?’

‘it’s sour and lowkey gross. i prefer cocktails.’

‘your wish is my command,’ he makes a show out of giving you a quite dramatic bow, his left hand folding to his shoulder, and then he straightens up his posture and gestures towards a corner of the kitchen that you hadn’t noticed at first, a cupboard line with a few different types of bottles.

‘there’s tequila, smirnoff, ooh thought i finished that bottle of malibu. take your pick,’ he steps aside as you ponder over what type of drink you felt like having before settling for a passionfruit martini.

‘good choice,’ he tells you, taking you a bit by surprise when he asks for your permission to lift you up to the countertop to watch him make your drink. it’s more comfortable than it looks, and you happily swing your legs back and forth, finally feeling the effects of the beer you had chugged a couple minutes prior, a lot more talkative.

you find yourself enjoying his company a lot more than you thought you would and make a mental note to thank yunjin for pushing to make this all happen. it had been a while since you had taken a step out of your wonbin-centred universe and enjoyed conversation that had nothing to do with him.

for a moment, the shadow of park wonbin faded, replaced by the brightness of this new connection. donghyuck’s presence was like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. the party continued around you, but in that corner, it felt like you were both in your own little world.

as the night wore on you both found yourself outside on the balcony, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the hellish warmth generated from all of the other bodies packed together.

the stars above sparkled like distant promises, and the city lights swindled like a million unspoken dreams. you close your eyes for a moment, soaking in the serenity of the night.

‘you know,’ donghyuck said after a while, his eyes fixed on the skyline, ‘there’s something special about nights like this. it’s like the word slows down and for a moment, everything just… makes sense.’

he’s about to vocalise your thoughts perfectly, and you nod in agreement. ‘yeah, i think i know what you mean.’

‘can i ask you something,’ donghyuck’s voice cut through the gentle murmur of the night, his tone carrying a weight of earnestness that shifted the atmosphere around you. his words hung in the air, a quiet intensity that demanded your attention, drawing your gaze to his face illuminated by the ambient light of the balcony.

you turn to him, curious and slightly apprehensive, yet undeniably intrigued by the change in his demeanour.

‘can i have your number?’

donghyuck sees the way your mouth opens, shock painted on your features, knowing enough to sense a rejection and he interjects, sensing your hesitation.

‘i’m not asking you out or anything, trust me. i just think we would be good friends. i like talking to you,’ he reassures you and you see sincerity in his eyes, a genuine desire to connect without any ulterior motives.

he was a great guy, and you were sure that in an alternative universe where both the name and sight of park wonbin had no sort of effect on you, the possibility of him having any sort of romantic feelings towards the end of the night wouldn’t have scared you as much. but this was the real world and your heart and mind were far too broken to entertain the idea of someone else taking over your life again.

‘yeah,’ you finally managed, your voice betraying a moment of vulnerability. ‘i’d like that too.’

relief washes over donghyuck’s face, a small smile tugging on his lips.

‘i don’t just give my phone number out to anyone you know. consider yourself lucky,’ you joke, in an attempt to ease the small amount of tension that had found itself between the two of you since you had met, hoping he wouldn’t take too much offence to your reaction and taking the unlocked mobile device out of his hands to fill out the contact information.

‘i’m sure i am.’

‘how are you getting home?’ he asks when his phone is finally back in his possession, saving the information on his phone before putting it down and turning his attention back to you, awaiting an answer to his question.

‘eager to get rid of me are we?’ you quip, raising an eyebrow in false disbelief and even making a show of crossing your arms across your chest and pushing off of the railing you were leaning on so you could be standing directly in front of him. he mirrors your body language, shaking his head, rapidly trying to reassure you.

‘i just want to make sure you get home safely.’

although this task proves to be quite difficult, given that yunjin has retreated to mark’s room for the night due to her less than sober state, and every other person that was around had also been drinking a sizeable amount. even trying to get a taxi at this time was in vain, given that it was quite late and nobody was around the area.

donghyuck has his eyes glued to his phone screen, bottom lip caught between his teeth. he raises his hand just to scratch the back of his head and you can see the cogs in his head turning, figuring out a way to approach the situation.

‘i mean you could stay over. i can take the couch and you would be able to sleep in my bed,’ he offers, and you feel bad because as much as you would like for him to get some good rest after the chaos of hosting a party all night, it was the only viable option.

he searches your face for confirmation and can tell how torn you are, ‘it’s fine, i promise.’

‘it’s fine,’ he repeats.

so even though it kills you to see him have to take refuge on the semi-hard couch in the middle of the living room that still had remnants of the party that was going on not even two hours before, you follow him up the stairs as he leads you to his room, checking to see that you’re behind him before opening the door.

‘got some spare clothes for you to change into here. um the bathroom is free for you to use too, i’m sure there’s some cleanser in the top cabinet to wipe off your makeup. anything else?’ your heart warms at how accommodating he’s being, giving you his clothes, allowing you to use his things, and even taking his bed.

‘i’ll leave you to get changed.’

‘wait, hyuck,’ you stop him just as he’s about to leave and he turns around, leaning his body onto the now half opened door. ‘thanks, for everything.’

‘my pleasure, sleep well princess,’ he flashes you a smile and then he’s gone and you can hear the soft thuds of him descending down the stairs, talking to who you assume is one of his housemates.

you hate to appear nosy but curiosity takes over you as you examine the things in his room. michael jackson vinyls, posters of a few indie bands, tame impala being the one that caught your eye first, an impressive collection of accessories. everything was just like he was, cool, chic, and a little playful.

his clothes are a little big for you, but you find comfort in the way it swamps around your frame, and it smells just like him. you’re surprised at how clean his bathroom is, a questionable amount of both feminine hygiene products as well as makeup wipes, micellar water and even some cleansing wipes.

‘charming,’ you thought to yourself, picking out the things you need, noting how a lot of it was fairly unused, before starting your bedtime routine.

discarding the used cotton pads and closing the lid of the bottle of the micellar solution, you close the tap, doing a quick once over of yourself in the mirror. the hand towels laid out neatly on the side are used to dry your damp hands and fold it neatly before walking back into his room.

it was gratifying, slipping into some clean sheets, basking in the warmth it provided you as you sank further and further under. but, as you expected, it was hard for you to actually fall asleep. you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling willing yourself to cave in to the restlessness you were feeling. yet try as you might it just didn’t work.

sighing, you turn over to look at the time on your phone that was charging on the bedside table. 3:02am and there were still failed attempts of getting you to sleep. groaning, you decide that perhaps some chamomile tea, or maybe even some warm milk could aid you.

it’s dead silent and you’re afraid of waking anyone up so you result in creeping down the stairs, on your tiptoes to make the minimal amount of noise you possibly could. apart from a couple of creaks in the floorboards it was relatively easy.

‘are you alright?’ donghyuck’s voice startles you, even though he’s only whispering and your hand automatically flies to your mouth to stifle a scream.

the lights in the living room are dim, the tv on albeit low in volume, but it’s not hard to tell that despite all of this he’s not comfortable. the spare sheets he was using were tossed to the side, and the constant rolling of his neck indicated that, as you thought, sleeping in that position was unpleasant.

‘can’t sleep?’ you ask him, and he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck as he sits up a little straighter. he reaches for his glasses, something you weren’t aware he wore and he perches it onto the bridge of his nose and running a hand through his hair.

‘i knew i shouldn’t have listened to jaemin about getting the cheaper couch. the expensive ones are pricey for a reason i guess,’ he jokes, but all you can do is feel bad. you can tell he wants to lighten the mood, to try as much as he can to not let it weigh on your conscience, but all it does is make you feel worse.

‘sleep with me,’ the words are out before you can even consider how it could be construed in the wrong way and the way his mouth hangs open makes you want to die of embarrassment.

‘not- no i meant- not like that,’ you’re stuttering, stumbling over your words, trying to correct your minor mistake.

‘i just meant i can see how uncomfortable it is sleeping out here, your room is big enough for the both of us to share.’

‘oh no, i don’t want to-’

‘hyuck please. you’re not making me uneasy in any way i promise. it’s your room anyway,’ you cut him off because you know exactly what he was going to say. from the small amount of time you spent with him you could gauge how much of a gentleman he was, and his efforts of being as respectable as possible didn’t go unnoticed.

‘please.’

he’s quick to give in, partially because he was eager to be able to ease the tension forming in the back of his neck, but also because he knew you wouldn’t give in until he listened.

‘fine, if you’re sure.’

he’s extremely cautious, letting you lead the way even though it was his own room, debating whether closing the door after him would make things seem a little too intimate. he opts for closing it, mainly because the light in the hallway was too distracting, but he still hovers over the bed, not really knowing what to do with himself.

‘what are you doing?’ you question him, slipping back under the covers before watching him from the position on the bed. judging by the things in his bathroom you were fairly certain this wasn’t the first time he’d shared a room with a girl. and it wasn’t like either of you had any other intentions.

‘don’t make this weird hyuck.’

it wasn’t your goal to make him laugh, but seeing the rigidity ease out of his form, you’re happy regardless as the right side of the bed dips slightly underneath his weight

he offers you a shy smile, his eyes warm and reassuring. ‘i’ll sleep on the edge, promise,” he said lightly, trying to ease any lingering awkwardness.

you chuckle softly, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “it’s fine, really,” you reply, feeling an unexpected sense of ease.

at first you lay on your side, facing away from him, but the space between the both of you was filled with a comforting presence. the room was dark, but the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow.

your eyelids drooped, heavy with weariness as the weight of the whole day's activities fall upon your body, weighing you down. as you close your eyes, you feel the warmth of donghyuck’s body close to yours, a steady and calming presence. his breathing was a soothing rhythm, a lullaby that began to chase away the lingering thoughts about wonbin. there was a safety in the silence, a peace you hadn’t felt in a while.

donghyuck’s voice, soft and low, broke the quiet. “if you need anything, just wake me up,” he murmured, his tone filled with genuine care.

you nod, though you doubted you’d need to. for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt truly safe. the weight of the past seemed lighter, the shadows receding as you nestled into the comfort of the present. with donghyuck beside you, the world outside faded, leaving only the tranquillity of the moment.

sleep came easily, your last thoughts a whisper of gratitude for the unexpected connection that had brought you peace. maybe it was the small amount of alcohol still buzzing in your system, or the familiarity of your body next to another, that made you scoot just a little bit closer, body heat radiating off of one another as you let yourself be wrapped in the arms of another man.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the first thing you noticed when your eyes fluttered open slowly was the small but constant pounding settled in your temple. it made you wince, fingers rushing to massage the sore spot as you turned over in your space.

your hands reach out for something, but it’s empty and you frown. memories of the night before come flooding in bit by bit, and you sigh as the back of your head meets the pillow.

the sound of footsteps makes you sit up on your elbows, attempting to not look half asleep to donghyuck. instead you were met with the face of your suspiciously cheerful best friend, bounding through the doorway and flopping down on the bed right next to you.

‘morning sleeping beauty,’ she greets you, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek and giggling at the way you pretend to be disgusted by it.

‘why are you so happy so early in the morning?’ you’re still feeling a little bit groggy, hair sticking up all over the place and you were sure you had a lot less to drink than yunjin did. so it made you wonder how she looked to be in a better position than you.

‘mark asked me to be his girlfriend yesterday.’

‘yunjin are you serious? that’s amazing.’

‘i know, i know, i’ll tell you all about it later. hyuck sent me upstairs to get you for breakfast,’ you’re both clearly excited, squealing like little girls, but it’s hard to ignore the low growl erupting from your stomach.

‘fine, you have to tell me every little detail later.’

you scramble out of bed, only now noticing the neat pile of clothes that donghyuck had folded for you to wear this morning. pulling the hoodie over your head and the basketball shorts up your thighs, you’re making your way downstairs, yunjin right by your side.

‘hey, you’re awake,’ donghyuck is the first one to spot you as you trail behind yunjin, suddenly feeling a little self conscious in the middle of the unfamiliar faces dotted around the kitchen.

he’s right in front of the stove, cracked egg shells in the palm of his hands as he mixes some batter for pancakes. gesturing for you to move closer, you can’t help but keep your gaze trained on the floor as you weave through the crowd that was starting to form. his roommates, the ones you had briefly met last night, scattered around the table, turning their heads in unison, grinning mischievously as you approached.

you know what it looks like, coming out of donghyuck’s room, drowning in his clothes, and now he’s messing with the strings, pulling you in closer to mess with your hair. you can hear them whispering, teasing, the not so subtle whistling, it makes you feel even more shy as you try to move out of donghyuck’s reach and next to yunjin, even though all of her attention was focused on mark.

one of his roomates leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. ‘i hope his bed wasn’t too uncomfortable,’ he says, winking at you.

donghyuck rolled his eyes, but there was a lightness to his expression as he glanced at you.

‘hyuck’s never made food for the girls he brings over. it must be a miracle,’ a guy whose hair is a platinum blonde speaks up smirking, but his jokes seem to be directed more at hyuck than you.

‘cut it out guys. we just slept, nothing else,’ he points the spatula right at him, understanding what he was implying as the boy raising his hands in defeat.

‘oh, just slept ,huh?’ another boy chimes in, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. ‘you two seemed pretty cosy when we peeked in this morning.’

your blush deepend, and you can feel hyuck’s embarrassment matching yours.

‘seriously, guys, give it a rest,” he said, setting a plate of pancakes on the table with a mock glare.

you shuffle awkwardly on your feet, praying that the focal point shifts away from you. one of the guys, you believe he introduced himself as jaemin, is the first to apologise, letting you know that he meant no harm.

‘our entire friendship is built on the foundation of embarrassing hyuck as much as possible.’

jeno, the cute guy who started the teasing, follows suit, ‘i was just messing with him, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’

you knew it was all just friendly banter, and it wasn’t exactly their fault that you weren’t the most sociable in front of new people so you let them know you weren’t offended or anything.

‘i think i’ve seen you around somewhere,’ jaemin tells you, pulling out a chair that surrounded the kitchen island so you could hop up first, all whilst hyuck was finishing flipping some pancakes.

‘me? from where?’

‘oh yeah, aren’t you wonbin’s friend? park wonbin.’

the mention of his name made your stomach drop. anxious, blinking back tears. everything came flooding back, all of your emotions going haywire and you have to turn away from them so you don’t give yourself away. the pain is excruciating, enough to make you light headed and your throat instantly tightens.

‘um- i wouldn’t exactly- um- call us friends,’ your grip on the kitchen counter increases, but the way your voice wavers makes donghyuck turn around, barely catching the stray tear that starts sliding down your cheek before you hastily wipe it away.

‘leave her alone and go about your day,’ he scolds his friend, motioning towards the door.

‘i thought the pancakes were for all of us?’

‘out. leave us alone.’

you’re both left alone in a comfortable silence and you’re grateful for donghyuck’s help in getting them to drop it. ‘hyuck,’ you call out to him, wanting to thank him.

‘we don’t have to talk about it. for now, we eat.’

a stack of pancakes are placed in front of you, syrup spread in a smiley face, mirroring the one on his face, and your shoulders relax, exhaling in relief.

‘let’s eat.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

your mind wanders back to the past two months and the unexpected bond that had formed between you and donghyuck. your conversations had become a daily comfort, his easy laughter and genuine concern a balm to your still-healing heart.

he had been more than a distraction—he had been a true friend. from the late-night talks about your hopes and fears to the impromptu outings that filled you with a sense of normalcy, donghyuck had been there, steadfast and supportive.

his presence was a reminder that not all connections needed to be painful, that new friendships could be forged in the wake of old heartaches.

park wonbin was slowly but surely phasing out of your daily life and you were beginning to get back to your former self- more sociable, less self conscious, no longer weighed down by anxiety and dark thoughts.

your phone buzzes on the table in front of you, lighting up momentarily and displaying donghyuck’s name, and a string of messages he had just sent you.

hey picasso

how’s the art project going?

i’m hungry, are you free for lunch?

please say yes i don’t want to sit by myself :(

you chuckle quietly, your fingers moving to reply to his message to tell him that you would eat with him before setting your phone down.

almost immediately, his reply came through.

it’s my treat <3

you chuckled, shaking your head at another one of donghyuck’s little gestures, always finding ways to make you feel special. putting your phone down again, you feel a wave of gratitude wash over you. donghyuck had been a beacon of light in your life, guiding you through the darkness of your breakup with wonbin. spending time with him was always a joy, and he had quickly become a safe harbour, a place where you could simply be yourself.

packing up your art supplies, the soft chime of your phone stops you in your tracks, and you temporarily place your bag on the floor to glance at the screen, a new message from hyuck sending you the address of the restaurant as well as the name.

the name of the restaurant, ‘arang’, jumps out at you and your breath hitches as memories surge forward, unbidden. you hadn’t been there in almost a year, not since the last time with wonbin. the thought of him made your chest tighten as you close your eyes, letting yourself be momentarily swept away by the flood of recollections.

the first time you visited arang, it was a chilly winter evening. snowflakes gently drifted down, settling on your hair as wonbin laughed and brushed them away. you remembered the warm, inviting glow of the restaurant's facade, the way the soft lighting inside bathed everything in a cozy, golden light. you had sat by the window, watching the snowfall outside, your fingers intertwined over the table. the homely aroma of korean cuisine, the clinking of glasses, and the soft murmur of conversation had created a cocoon of intimacy around you both.

you shake your head, trying to dispel the vivid images. the past was in the past, there was no use of dwelling on it. plus the possibility of this day being the one that he also decides he wants to visit is slim, and you’re not even sure he would be around today, given that thursdays he usually didn’t have any classes and he would use this day for basketball practice.

you become akin to a robot, repeating this over and over again in your head, trying to convince your body- which has started to go into panic mode- that everything was fine and you were just overthinking.

stepping out of the school building after a visit to your locker you make your way to the restaurant. the familiar streets passed by in a blur, each step bringing you closer to a place filled with both joy and sorrow. it’s only when you see hyuck bounding towards you, arms outstretched, that your anxiety dissolves and you allow him to pull you into a bone-crushing hug, muttering something about how everyone but you had abandoned him.

‘i thought i was going to have to eat alone, nobody else wanted to come with me,’ is the first thing he tells you, clearly happy that you were here.

‘so you’re saying i was your last choice?’

‘no no no. i’m saying you’re my saviour,’ he loops his arms with your own, dragging you inside with him just as a couple is walking out. you let donghyuck go ahead whilst you kindly let them come out first.

‘hey -,’ the familiar voice calling your name makes you freeze, all limbs in your body stuck, rooted in the spot you were standing. donghyuck notices how you’re no longer beside him and turns around but is distracted by the waiter approaching him.

your mouth is dry, ominous thoughts squirming in the back of your mind as what felt like cold spider like fingers raced up and down your spine. you wanted to speak, to seem totally unbothered and unaffected like you thought you were. yet you couldn’t get words to come out.

the familiar figure of wonbin emerged from the sea of faces, his presence like a sharp pang to your chest. he stood tall and confident, his fingers laced between ning ning’s, her face practically glowing as she beams up at him, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before landing on hers, leaning down, his touch gentle as he presses a kiss onto her cheek.

the feeling of a shard in your gut encompasses you, taking over all sensory input, comparable to death and bereavement as it washes over you like gruelling waves, choking the breath from your body and short circuiting your mind.

wonbin’s eyes met yours, a smug tugging at the corner of his lips because even though you haven’t said a word yet, he knows your body, how it reacts when you’re nervous, or when you had been disappointed by something he had did. you weren’t over him yet, and that was all he needed from you, blind devotion- just like it had always been.

his gaze was a calculated blend of charm and cruelty, a silent reminder of the control he had once exerted over your heart.

ning ning looks at you, sincere concern etched onto her features at the fact that you had not spoken, your skin paling and hands trembling.

‘are you alright?’

your throat is burning, eyes blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay, but you push through the pain and struggle to answer.

‘i-i’m fine, enjoy your day,’ you don’t give them a chance to reply as you turn and dart away from them, neck craning to try and find donghyuck.

you spot him at a table towards the back of the restaurant, waving to get your attention and sprint over, practically collapsing in your seat.

‘was that.. park wonbin?’ he’s careful, aware of the many times your body would stiffen up at the mention of him, or how you avoided talking about him as much as possible whenever he was brought up in conversation. he didn’t want to pry into something that clearly made you uncomfortable.

you nod in confirmation, debating whether or not you should tell him the full story. it was humiliating just thinking about how he would react when he heard how a simple boy had the ability to turn your whole life upside down. how suffocating it was just to see him in the vicinity of other girls, or how much grief it caused you to specifically see ning ning, when she was the one he chose and not you.

despite all of this, donghyuck had been an amazing friend to you, and you felt that now was the right time to tell him the full truth. and that’s what you told him, starting from the day you first met, the addition of ning ning in the both of your lives and even how you continued to stay with him.

you expected him to look at you with disgust, or to judge you or even be disappointed. but donghuck was quiet, listening to every word you had to say, not once giving his own input.

‘pathetic right? i wouldn’t know what to say either.’

‘no that’s not it. i just thought about how upsetting it must have been. pouring your heart out for someone and getting nothing in return from them.’

‘he loved me. i guess he just- i must have done something to make him stop,’ it’s a habit of yours, rushing to wonbin’s defence whenever anything unfavourable is said about him. you don’t want him to be the bad guy in the story.

he frowns at your words, reaching out for your hand, ‘ please don’t take this the wrong way. you’re not the problem, he is.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘he was using you. using your kindness, your devotion to him, the way you loved him. and he was using that for his own gain, to feel good about himself. and then when you tried to push the boundary he put you in, he abandoned you,’ he explains, and although they were words you had heard before, namely from an extremely infuriated yunjin, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept it, to accept that park wonbin was not good.

‘that’s not true, he didn’t use me.’

‘it’s hard to hear, i understand. regardless, know that there’s nothing wrong with you, there’s nothing that you did that can explain why he’s acting like that,’ donghyuck pities you, seeing how reluctant you are to think badly of him. to love excessively is to be blind to all of the ugly parts of the person, shielding yourself away from it.

‘but-’

‘i’m speaking from experience, trust me. i know all about giving your everything to someone, loving them earnestly, thinking that they felt the same, only for them to throw it back in your face,’ it’s the first time you’re hearing about this, seeing a normally cheerful donghyuck change into a forlorn figure, appearing uncharacteristically apprehensive.

‘she left me, all alone when i needed her the most. it hit me so hard, i was sure that i would never be able to feel again. that i would just be numb and broken forever,’ he feels willing to share his own story, to offer you a beacon of light to what you felt was a hopeless situation.

‘that’s why i was so interested in you that night. that calibre of heartbreak, i recognised myself in the sadness of your eyes, feeling uneasy and restless, i understood it all before you even had to tell me your story,’ suddenly that night made more sense to you, why he was so attentive, unwilling to let you out of his sight, going the extra mile just to make you feel comfortable.

‘i see my old self in you, that’s why. we’ve got to build that self confidence all the way up.’

‘everyone deserves love- well not everyone- but you definitely do. you’re a good girl- not in the kinky sense, wow i have got to stop-‘

‘hyuck,’ you cut him off before he can ramble on any further, a habit of his you had picked up on due to his overactive sense of imagination and his inability to multitask.

‘sorry. what i’m trying to say is you’re pretty, a good person, funny and you’re smart as fuck. any guy would be lucky to have you.’

‘you’re just saying that.’

‘i mean it though,’ his face softens, and it’s the most sincere look you’ve seen from hyuck since the first time you met him.

‘you might not believe it now, but trust me. that’s what i’m here for, project mend your heart and make you confident.’

‘and who else but the sexiest man alive to be of assistance.’

you’re laughing, genuine laughter which was something that seemed to become more common when with donghyuck.

‘jeno would beg to differ,’ you tease him mindlessly, a throw away comment that didn’t have much meaning to it. but in true hyuck fashion, everything had to be dramatic.

‘i knew it. i knew you wanted to fuck him,’ he points at you, shouting louder than he should have been in a restaurant, and you sink further into your seat in embarrassment, whilst he mouths quick apologies and bows his head to the few curious customers that turned in your direction.

‘i never said i wanted to fuck him, where did you get that from?,’ your voice is hushed, cheeks flushed as you fight the urge to reach over the table putting a distance between you two and throttle him.

‘well you just inadvertently said you thought he was sexy. what’s the next step from that? begging him to fuck.’

you crinkle your nose in disgust, donghyuck acting like he had uncovered some kind of dirty secret, looking rather smug as he folded his arms over his chest.

‘maybe in a teen fiction book. that’s not how things work in the real world stupid.

‘of course it does. people who are attracted to other people normally end up having sex,’ he states as if it’s the most obvious fact in the world, backed by scientific evidence.

‘not true. i think you’re sexy too but i’d rather keel over and die than be sexually intimate with you.’

but you instantly regret saying that when you see how his eyebrow quirks, his smile becomes a smirk and he leans in towards you.

‘so what i’m hearing is-‘

‘no, you’re not hearing anything. shut up and eat,’ you’re shoving cooked chicken into his mouth before he can have another outburst and bring more shame to your table.

giving up, he takes the tongs out of your hands to put some in your own bowl, placing the pork belly on the grill next.

you both eat in relative silence, enjoying the food, with occasional comments about how good the food is.

‘so-‘ donghyuck speaks up after almost five minutes of no conversation.

you can already tell he’s going to say something stupid by the way he’s raised his eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows.

‘you think i’m sexy huh?’

‘i’m starting to regret meeting you for lunch.’

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

it was becoming a regular occurrence for you to be dragged out of whatever comfortable position you were in on a saturday evening, yanked out from under the comfort of your duvet by your friends just so you could hang out. tonight was not any different, only this time you were struggling to understand why you were even called out.

‘i don’t know why you invited me and hyuck on a double date, we’re not in a relationship,’ you tell yunjin who pretends like she can’t hear you, allowing herself to be swept away into the arms of her boyfriend, only turning around to stick her tongue out at you and you huff at her childishness.

it had been such a long week and as much as you loved hanging out with these three, another episode of it’s okay to not be okay was calling your name. well, more like another hour of drooling over kim soohyun but that's besides the point.

‘yeah, even though she wants to be with me so badly,’ donghyuck appears beside you, arm lazily hung over your shoulder as he teases you, even going as far as puckering his lips, pretending to ask for a kiss.

you shove him, and he narrowly misses the gigantic pole a few cm away from his face. turning towards you with narrow eyes he lunges forward, successfully grabbing you by the sleeve of your jacket and tugging you closer to him.

‘let me go lee donghyuck, i swear to god,’ your pleas fall on deaf ears, as he’s too busy tickling you to care for your empty threats, enjoying how you’re squirming in his hold and using one arm to hold you up by the waist so you don’t fall.

‘cant hear you over the sound of your squeals.’

‘you two act like this and then wonder why so many people think you’re together,’ the couple who were once further ahead realised that both of you were no longer beside them, and turned around to see you in the predicament you were currently in. yunjin crosses her arm as she stands in place, but contrary to her posture she’s smiling. mark adorns a similar look, content that the two of you got along so well. he remembered how distressed yunjin was whenever they met up four months ago, before they started dating, worried about you, wondering when you would be happy again.

meanwhile you freeze in his hold, and donghyuck stops, looking down to see your face.

‘do people really think that? that me and donghyuck are dating?’ panic is evident in your tone, by the way your voice shakes.

‘donghyuck can’t be that bad,’ mark jokes, not gauging the way the atmosphere had changed a little bit.

‘it’s not that. it’s just- do you think wonbin will think that too,’ you ask to no-one in particular. you vowed to stop talking about him, figuring your friends were tired of hearing you speak about him time and time again. the words became forbidden from spilling from your lips, and it felt almost foreign for you to say it again.

‘fuck wonbin. who cares what he thinks. he has no right to have any opinion on who you are or aren’t dating,’ there’s a fire in yunjin’s eye, one that tells you she means every word she says and you bow your head, choosing to focus on your shoes instead of meeting the eyes of the three standing in front of you.

mark seemed to be the only one unaware of the whole situation, and looks to donghyuck, thinking they were in the same position. but when he tells you he agrees with yunjin, and rubs your shoulder, he realises he’s the only one. you had seen mark quite a lot in the past three months, but he knew it was probably something you didn’t want to talk about for now, especially because although you had developed a decent friendship, you weren’t exactly best friends. although he did have to wonder how donghyuck found out.

‘we should get going, we’re going to be late,’ your desire to change the subject causes you to shift the focus on to something else, namely the restaurant that you had planned to go to. you know that yunjin wouldn’t easily forget this conversation, that within this week you would end up having a serious talk about your feelings for he who shall not be named. but for now she shows you mercy, pulling mark along with her to lead the way.

in a matter of minutes you arrive at your destination, a dimly lit pan-asian restaurant, decorated with japanese kanji on the walls and various references to koi fish. you’re immediately greeted by a server, leading you to a table for four almost in the middle of the restaurant.

donghyuck, being the gentleman he is, helps you slip out of the thin cardigan you were wearing before pulling your chair out for you and pushing it closer to the table once you were sat, whilst mark mirrored those same actions.

hyuck was animatedly recounting a funny story from his high school days, his expressive gestures making you all laugh. he always added the right amount of exaggeration to achieve the art of storytelling. the conversation was flowing smoothly, laughter erupting here and there, so much so that you almost didn’t notice the figure approaching your table.

‘mark? hyuck? fancy seeing you guys here,’ it’s ning ning in all of her beauty, and you curse yourself for falling into a trance, admiring how perfectly her hair was styled, and the way the dress she wore fit her body like a glove. a leather trench coat was draped around her shoulders underneath the black dior saddle bag, matching with the pumps that clothed her feet. anyone with eyes could see that ning ning was alluring, the words pretty or cute would be lost on someone as perfectly crafted as her.

your instincts cause you to fearfully scan the room, half expecting wonbin to be not too far behind just like last time, but instead you could see the group of girls waiting at the table she had just left, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

‘hey ning ning, it’s been a while.’ you’re surprised that she even knows mark, until you’re told about the music class they share and small flashes of them sharing a stage for the school's summer festival flash in your mind. her energy is enthralling, captivating the attention of everyone at the table, drawing them in with her kind smile and envy courses through your blood at the quality you’re unable to share with her, your personality paling in comparison to hers.

you’re so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t even hear her asking a question, until everyone turns towards you, and you’re met with four sets of eyes on you.

‘i’m sorry i didn’t hear what you said, i think it’s the noise in here,’ you blame it on the music that plays fairly softly in the background, and the small bustle of conversations surrounding you, but if she had picked up on your poor attempt of an excuse, she didn’t seem to show it.

‘i was just asking if you were feeling better. last time i saw you i was quite worried.’

it’s frustrating, how much you would prefer for her to be a bitch, so you could justify any sort of hatred aimed towards her, and spend your time speaking ill of her just to satisfy the dull ache in your chest. instead she was lovely, extremely compassionate and totally unaware of the despair that her mere presence brought you.

‘i’m fine now,’ you don’t mean to sound so cold but it’s hard for you to muster up the strength to push aside your feelings, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile, one that has the corner of your lips quivering from how hard you force it to stay up.

‘that’s good to hear, you definitely look a lot better.’

‘oh i’m sorry, is this a double date?’ she asks, as if the revelation had just dawned on her that two boys and two girls sat together at a restaurant on saturday evening, dressed a bit more fancily for it to be a simple hangout.

you wanted to correct her, to protest her statement but you feel donghyuck pinching your knee under the table and he answers for you, ‘yes we actually are.’

you’re perplexed, unsure of what reason he would need to lie, but you figure he would explain things to you after she left.

‘aww that’s so cute, i’ve always wanted to go on one of those,’ more small talk is made, but you’re stuck staring at hyuck’s face, trying to decipher his thoughts but failing miserably.

‘i’ll leave you guys to it, enjoy your night,’ ning ning finally departs from your table, calling out over her shoulder as the rest of her friends also rise to their feets, signalling their exits. you wait till you see the last girl push past the swinging doors before you lightly hit donghyuck on his shoulder.

‘why didn’t you tell her we’re not dating? this is definitely not a double date and you know that.’

he shrugs his shoulders in response, like it wasn’t a big deal before he answers. ‘because what good would it do her if she knew.’

you’re even more confused now by what he’s saying. does he mean that both of you should pretend to be in a relationship like the main characters of a romance novel?

‘so are you saying we should fake date?’

‘is this another one of your schemes to get me to fall in love with you?’ he jokes, and you realise that you seem to be taking this a lot more seriously than he is.

‘hyuck,’ you warn him.

‘i’m just saying if people think we are, do we really need to keep on explaining. it’s nobody’s business and it doesn’t hurt to look unavailable when you’re clearly not interested in dating at the moment.’

‘that’s true, it’s not like you’re going around telling people. plus if people think you two are dating they’ll stop with their stupid questions,’ yunjin agrees with his sentiment, and you pick up on a further ulterior motive, one which involves preventing wonbin from trying to swoop back in and sweep you off of your feet when he feels like it. she doesn’t say this out loud, but the look she shares with donghyuck speaks for itself.

‘whatever, all of this talk about dating makes me nauseous,’ it was meant to be received as a joke, but your voice, tinged with a mixture of bitterness and sadness, causes hyuck and yunjin to exchange concerned glances.

ning ning had just left the table after a cordial exchange, yet the atmosphere felt heavy, laden with unsaid words and unspoken truths, the lively hum of conversations from other diners providing a comforting backdrop for the lingering tension in the air.

mark looks around, blinking slowly, sensing the change but seemingly the only one unaware of its cause.

‘something tells me you all know something i don’t.’

you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts as you feel dongyuck’s reassuring presence besides you, his hands gently resting on your shoulder.

‘ning ning is…. well, she’s dating my ex-boyfriend, wonbin,’ you began, your voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of pain. ‘it’s a long story, and not a very happy one.’

mark’s expression softened, and he leaned in slightly, giving you his full attention. ‘you don’t have to tell me if you’re not comfortable. but I’m here to listen if you want to share.”

you nod, appreciating his sensitivity. “thanks, mark. i think it’s time you knew,’ taking another deep breath you continued.

‘when i was with wonbin everything was perfect, he was charming, attentive, and made me feel special. i thought i had finally found the one.’

you pause, the memories swirling in your mind as you take a big gulp. yunjin reached across the table, taking your hand in a comforting grip and you drew strength from her touch.

‘he told me that he didn’t like ning ning, and that he was dating her only in public just for appearances. it sounds stupid now but i really wanted to believe it, and i did. eventually i got tired of everything, i wanted to be the only one, to make things public and that’s when he got upset and told me he didn’t love me. he left me for her, ning ning.’

mark’s eyes widened with shock and sympathy. ‘that’s awful, i’m so sorry you went through that.’

his expressions were open and earnest, and you felt relief that he didn’t judge you and instead showed genuine sympathy.

‘i can’t imagine how tough that must be. but you’re incredibly strong for getting through it and for sharing this with us. you don’t have to face it alone.”

yunjin squeezes your hand tighter. ‘we’re all here for you. you don’t have to carry this burden by yourself.’

‘and we’ll make sure to keep things light and fun. like, i can always offer to trip wonbin if he ever shows his face around us again,’ you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly as mark also chuckles, the mood lifting with shared laughter.

as the evening progressed, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the supportive presence of your friends helping to ease the pain of the past. though the memories of your relationship with wonbin still lingered, you knew you weren’t alone, surrounded by friends who cared deeply for you.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

the next day ning ning joins wonbin in his room after a long day of classes, looking to relax in his presence. instead she’s met with the sight of him slouching in his gaming chair, his hair a fluffy mess, wearing only a black tank top and basketball shorts, making her feel out of place in her pleated skirt and corset top. kicking off her shoes she settles for the edge of his bed, settling into relative silence as she’s left to scroll on her phone. a picture she had taken at the dinner last night reminding her of who she saw.

‘i saw that friend of yours, the one at the game and at the bbq place too. she was at the same restaurant as we were.’

‘oh really?’ wonbin is uninterested, eyes focused on the game, cursing under his breath at the death of one of his teammates, furiously manoeuvring the buttons on his controller, almost forgetting that his girlfriend was in the vicinity.

‘she was on a date. well a double date actually,’ ning ning continues, choosing to move as closely to him as was possible despite his lack of focus on her.

unknowingly the controller slips from his hands, and he freezes, sure that he had misheard what she had said.

‘a date?’ he repeats in disbelief. the person that he knew you as wouldn’t even be able to bring herself to have romantic feelings for another guy, let alone boldly accepting a date with one.

‘yeah. why is that so shocking?’ she kneels down to pick up the console and hand it to him and he has to fight to conceal how he truly feels, just so that she doesn’t suspect anything.

‘no reason, she's just- you know pretty shy and stuff. didn’t think she would be the type,’ the lie easily falls out of his mouth, and he almost applauds himself for how convincing it sounds as ning ning hums and nods her head, aware of the few times she had encountered her how little she spoke.

‘she seemed super extraverted when i saw her. and her and donghyuck, they look so cute together,’ unaware of the change in wonbin’s expression ning ning continues to talk about last night, all whilst wonbin is left to think.

he’s unsure how the two of you even became acquainted, given that he was one of the most popular people in school. the thought of you moving on was one he had never factored in, so sure that no matter how he played it you would always be putty in his arms, dancing to whatever tune he set.

was it all a lie when you begged for him, telling him it was impossible for you to move on? he’s not sure what the emotion he’s feeling is called, but it burns inside of him and he’s not feeling good about it.

a flash of anger crossed wonbin’s face, but he quickly masked it with a tight smile. ‘i see. so, she’s dating donghyuck now?’

ning ning shrugged, not sensing the shift in his demeanor. ‘it seemed like it. they were really sweet together. anyway, how have you been? I missed you.’

wonbin’s mind raced, anger and jealousy twisting inside him. how dare she move on so easily? he had always controlled the narrative, made her feel insignificant, and now she was out there, smiling and happy without him. the thought infuriated him.

‘i’ve been fine,’ he replied curtly, his tone betraying his inner turmoil. ‘tell me more about this double date. what were they doing?

still unaware of his growing anger, ning ning began recounting the evening. wonbin’s grip on the armrest tightened, his knuckles turning white. ‘it sounds like everyone had a good time,’ he said through gritted teeth.

finally noticing the tension in his voice, she stopped and looked at him with concern. ‘wonbin, are you okay? you seem upset.”

he forced a smile, shaking his head. ‘i’m fine. just a bit tired, that’s all.’ she reaches out, touching his hand gently. ‘if something's bothering you, you can tell me. you know that, right?’

‘i know, thanks babe. it’s just been a long day. let’s not talk about the double dates anymore.

ning ning nodded, sensing that it was best to let the topic drop. she shifted closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. ‘alright. let’s just relax and enjoy the evening together.’

as she snuggled against him, wonbin wrapped an arm around her, his thoughts still fixated on you. he couldn’t stand the idea of you being happy without him, and he resolved to find a way to regain control over the situation.

it prompts him to decide to ask about it the next day at school, desperate to find out more. wonbin’s features twisted into a determined scowl, last night’s revelation still echoing in his mind, fueling a mix of jealousy and indignation. you, the one he was so sure he would always have a hold one, had moved on with donghyuck. the thought gnawed at him, stirring a toxic concoction of anger and resentment.

he spotted shotaro, known for his sunny disposition and extensive network of friends, intercepting him near his lockers, his voice clipped with urgency. ‘shorato, i need to ask you something, i heard a rumour yesterday.

‘sure, wonbin, what’s up?’ shotaro, always obliging, nodded and adjusted his backpack.

‘i heard that donghuck has a new girlfriend,’ he puts effort into appearing nonchalant, scrolling on his phone as if he had better things to do, and as if it was just insignificant gossip he had heard in passing.

‘yeah it seems so, i think you know the girl too, the one at your basketball game. they’re together all the time now. i’ve seen them come into school together too a few times,’ shotaro is none the wiser, easily dishing out the gossip, all whilst wonbin fights hard to control the way his jaw now tics, rage pulsing through his veins as he felt a flash of irritation.

it was clear that the time apart between you two had done more harm than good. but park wonbin was not a nice guy, or someone often graced with rational thoughts. to him, in some sick and twisted way, you were cheating on him. you had betrayed his trust and he refused to let this go on any longer.

a flicker of rage crossed wonbin’s face, quickly masked by a cold smile. ‘interesting. and what else have you heard?’

shotaro frowned, sensing the tension in wonbin’s demeanour. ‘well, there’s also talk about donghyuck hosting a party this weekend. he’s invited a lot of people already but it seems like anyone could come.’

wonbin’s mind raced with possibilities. a party meant an opportunity to see you, to confront you in a social setting where he could exert his influence. he nodded slowly, his plan forming with each passing second. ‘thanks, shotaro. see you around.’

with that, he turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, his mind focused on the upcoming party. he needed to regain control, to remind you of your past and what you both once shared. wonbin was determined to break you down, to manipulate your emotions.

throughout the day, wonbin’s thoughts remained fixed on his plan. he knew exactly what he needed to do at donghyuck’s party. he would corner you, slowly chipping away at your resolve until you saw that being with him was where you truly belonged.

making his way through the crowded halls, wonbin’s outward appearance was calm and collected, but inside, a storm of determination raged. he would stop at nothing to win you back, even if it meant using manipulation and deceit to achieve his goal. the party was just the beginning of his calculated scheme to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

perhaps it was narcissistic, the sense of entitlement that he felt that created the need for admiration, but your naivety and how easy it was to get you to fall at his knees at his every word meant that he would not let go of you.

not until he wanted to.

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

‘home sweet home,’ you kick off your shoes, barely getting your jacket past your waist until you flop onto donghyuck’s bed. it was his birthday today, meaning you had been on your feet all day, making sure his cake was ready, or that the cocktails ordered were the right flavours amongst other last minute things.

as tired as you were though, it didn’t bother you as much. hyuck had been a good friend to you, someone you cherished dearly, so giving up a few hours on his special day was not much of a hassle. you had just gotten back from picking up the birthday cake and cupcakes from the bakery with yunjin and mark, and decided to get what little rest you could before you had to get ready for the party.

‘move over,’ yunjin is motioning with her hands for you to leave some space for her, and as soon as you do she’s lying down besides you whilst mark watches at the doorway, arms folded with a smile on his face.

‘what’s got you smiling?’

‘i’m just thinking about how happy i am for hyuck. he’s got a girl that finally cares about him,’ you sit up at those words so suddenly that you’re sure your vision shifts for a couple of seconds.

‘they’re not in love with each other mark, give it up babe,’ yunjin speaks up for you, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. it wasn’t a secret that mark heavily advocated for the two of you to be together, given that hyuck was his bestfriend and the two of you were getting closer. he believed that your shared experiences of getting your heart broken and being taken advantage of due to loving too hard would work in your favour if you became a couple.

it was a thought that weighed heavily on your mind during this week. you were certain that if you were to be in a relationship with him, your worries of not being loved, or being abandoned, or being treated poorly like the rest of your exes would no longer be a concern. he was the sweetest boy you had ever met, and he always had your best interests at heart.

‘do you really not see hyuck in that way?’ mark turns the question to you, and it makes you pause and think. in an ideal world he would be the perfect partner for you, the one that you needed. but it was impossible to fill a wonbin shaped hole in your heart with someone that wasn’t him.

‘i wish i did,’ you confess truthfully, and to yunjin’s surprise, a little sadly. it makes her also now sit up, bringing her arms around your shoulders to bring you into a hug.

‘it’s alright if you don’t. you’re allowed to take as much time as you need to heal, there’s no time limit for that.’

her words comfort you and she gives you a small squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before she’s up on her feet again.

‘we have two hours before people start arriving and i need at least thirty minutes for my eyeliner alone.’

you’re left in hyuck’s room by yourself, deciding on also getting ready, even though it was a bit too early for you. a part of you felt bad for the mess you were sure to make in his room, your makeup products and brushes laid all over the table, outfit on his bed and a couple pairs of heels by the foot of his bed.

music played softly in the background as you sat at donghyuck’s vanity, your reflection framed by the ornate mirror adorned with fairy lights that you had convinced him to hang up. you ran your fingers through your hair, contemplating how to style it for the evening ahead.

it was nice to have a moment to yourself, leisurely taking your time to get ready. however, it meant that you were also left alone with your thoughts, which were anything but peaceful.

maybe you had healed. maybe all you needed to be completely over wonbin would be to allow yourself to be with someone else. it might help the thoughts of him that would momentarily flash in your mind, or the part of you that you felt still blindly loved him. it was time to let park wonbin go. for good.

just as you finished styling your hair into loose waves, there was a gentle knock on the door and before you could respond, mark and yunjin poked their heads into the room.

‘hey,’ mark greeted, leaning against the doorframe. ‘how’s it going in here?’

yunjin steps inside, her eyes bright with excitement as she waltzes into the room, mark in tow. ‘you look gorgeous my love. are you almost ready?’

you chuckle softly at their excitement, ‘almost, just finishing up. thanks for letting me borrow donghyuck’s room, mark.

mark nodded, his expression kind. ‘of course. take your time, everyone’s still doing one thing or another.’

‘someone would think that you were the birthday girl,’ mark joked as he admired his girlfriend parading around the room, a second pair of heels in her clutches.

‘looking good doesn’t need an occasion my love.’

you weren’t too far off either, your hair curled beautifully, cascading down to your back, and the black glittery two piece you wore clung to your body. you would have settled for a simple dress or even some jeans, but yunjin profusely objected, threatening to disown you.

according to her, as his closest friends they had a duty to look equally as good as donghyuck, although you were sure it was just an excuse for her to get all dressed up, like she loved to do.

‘whatever you say princess.’

the soft murmur of conversation fills donghyuck’s room as you all lounged comfortably on his bed, basking in the calm before the storm of his birthday party. you were taking refuge here after helping set up downstairs, enjoying a brief respite before the festivities began in earnest.

yunjin pulls out her phone, noting the time. ‘i think the first guests should be arriving soon,’ she remarked, glancing at you and mark.

‘yeah hyuck said they’d start showing up around this time. we should probably head downstairs.’

you all descend the stairs together, the llively chatter and laughter from downstairs growing louder as you approached the front door. you swung it open first, just as the doorbell chimed, revealing a group of donghyuck’s friends eagerly waiting to join the celebration.

‘hey, come on in!’ you greet them warmly, stepping aside to let the guests enter.

mark and yunjin followed suit, exchanging greetings and directing everyone towards the living room where the party was unfolding. upstairs, the boys were still in full swing, pre-gaming and engaging in last-minute preparations and games. donghyuck’s voice echoed down the stairs as he rallied his friends for the night ahead.

meanwhile, you busied herself ensuring everything was running smoothly. you checked the food and drinks, adjusting a few decorations here and there to perfectionist standards. the cake was laid out carefully on the kitchen table, surrounded by the mini cupcakes, and drinks were lined up with three hired bartenders. the decorations were just as you had imagined, and the presents that his friends were bringing for him were in place.

‘you could totally become an event planner,’ donghyuck’s voice causes you to turn around and you gasp at the sight of him as he leans against the counter casually. he’s always been attractive, that was non-disputable, but tonight it seemed like he had exceeded those plain terms. it reminded you of the night you first met, his dark tresses providing a flawless contrast with his skin, golden and clear, dotted with the beauty marks you loved to stare at so much.

the leather jacket he wore seemed to fit him well, and you wondered if all the time he had recently been spending in the gym was finally paying off by the way his white shirt clung to his body. but it was the faint traces of eyeliner circling his hooded eyes that left you awestruck, complimenting his eyes.

‘is this your way of telling me i look good?’ he bites his lip before a smirk graces his lips, playfulness emboldening his irises as he steps closer and closer, until you can smell the cologne that lingers on his shirt.

‘you do,’ you’re straightforward with your answer because it’s the truth.

‘i’ve got nothing on you though. thought an angel temporarily came down to visit,’ he says jokingly, but something about the look in his eye makes you feel that he means his words.

the space between you becomes non-existent, and slowly you feel him brush a stray piece of hair away from your eyes, his fingers lingering around your face for longer than it usually would.

your eyes meet, a silent conversation unfolding between you if you were suspended in a moment outside of time. the air in the kitchen crackled with an electric tension, the proximity intoxicating, the space between you charged with a magentic pull.

you’re about to reply but you’re interrupted by jeno and jaemin, a bottle in each hand, hollering about taking shots for the birthday boy. tension that you weren’t sure was even possible to feel with donghyuck dissipates, and you feel him go back to his old self as he allows the boys to drag him out to the middle of the dance floor.

‘what was that all about?’ yunjin asks, and you failed to notice her standing behind jeno’s bigger frame, causing you to jump a little. she looks at you suspiciously, as if you had done something and gotten caught.

‘nothing,’ your reply is too quick, voice far too squeaky for her to believe you, and she had known you for too long to be deceived so easily.

‘so that means there was something. it looked like he was about to kiss you.’

you knew that, you were aware that the way his eyes would flicker down to your lips, or the way his second hand came and held you at the small of your back. you’d been kissed before, and it wasn’t hard to miss the signs. but something else shocked you, and you snap out of your daze to look your friend in the eye.

‘i know, and i think i would have let him.’

yunjin’s jaw drops dramatically before her hands fly to her mouth. ‘you mean-’

‘yes.’

‘i need some more alcohol.’

half of the night is spent inside your own mind, replaying the scene with donghyuck over and over again. he was going to kiss you, and if you hadn’t been stopped by jeno’s loud voice it would have happened. did this mean you were over wonbin? was it just because it had been such a long time since you had been kissed and you missed it? did you like hyuck as more than a friend?

the memory replayed in your mind like a haunting melody, a glimpse of what could have been. but each time you closed your eyes to savour the moment, flashes of park wonbin intruded upon your thoughts. his smile, his touch, his whispered promises- the memories of your tumultuous relationship resurfaced with unsettling clarity.

doubt gnawed at your resolve, casting shadows over the budding attraction you believed you felt for donghyuck. in this fleeting moments of introspection, you confronted the harsh truth. you were not over wonbin.

as the night wore on and the party reached its crescendo of laughter and music, you found yourself slipping deeper into a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. despite the outward revelry, an internal storm brewed within you. you drifted through the crowd with a plastic smile, deflecting conversations and laughter as though they were merely obstacles in your path.

but behind your façade, a maelstrom of doubt and regret churned relentlessly. you had come so far in your journey of healing, painstakingly unravelling the tendrils of love and manipulation that wonbin had woven around your heart. yet, tonight, his ghost haunted you once more.

in a moment of weakness, you found yourself standing at the makeshift bar, fingers gripping a drink with more force than necessary. the amber liquid swirled in the glass, its scent sharp and intoxicating. without hesitation, you raised it to your lips, welcoming the burn that seared down your throat.

the alcohol offered a fleeting reprieve—a temporary numbing of the pain that threatened to overwhelm you. with each sip, you hoped to drown out the memories, to silence the doubts that clawed at your resolve. but with every passing moment, the thoughts of wonbin persisted, stubbornly refusing to be subdued.

disappointment settled heavily in your chest, mingling with self-recrimination. you had worked tirelessly to banish wonbin from your thoughts, to rebuild yourself without the weight of his presence. yet here you were, succumbing to the allure of temporary oblivion.

so you found yourself turning to alcohol with increasing desperation. each drink became a lifeline, a means to drown out the relentless thoughts of park wonbin that plagued your mind.

the burn in your throat was now a distant sensation. with each sip, you felt yourself slipping further from reality, the chaotic noise of the party fading into a dull hum. you didn’t want to think anymore tonight. and eventually it worked its magic. in this intoxicated state, you were free from the torment of memories, free from the disappointment in yourself from succumbing to old wounds.

the dance floor pulsed with energy, the bass vibrating through the floor and up into your bones. the dim, colourful lights spun in dizzying patterns, casting fleeting shadows on the faces of your friends and strangers alike, all moving to the beat. you throw your head back and laugh, the alcohol buzzing warmly in your veins, making everything feel brighter, louder, more intense.

your drink sloshed in its glass as you swayed to the rhythm, the liquid gleaming under the flashing lights. you take another sip, the sweetness masking the burn of the alcohol. your movements become more fluid and uninhibited with every passing moment, the night was a blur of sound and colour, and for once, you felt free.

but then you heard it- ‘who the fuck invited park wonbin?’

your heart lurched, the sound slicing through the haze of joy and alcohol like a knife. involuntarily, you stop moving, your eyes wide and unfocused as you scan the crowd. the music seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the rush of blood in your ears.

the world seems to pause as those two words register in your head and you freeze. hyuck, who is just as oblivious to the situation as you were a couple of seconds ago, feels you stop dancing and furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

you see his lips move, and you’re sure he’s talking to you, but you can’t hear anything. as if you’re wearing noise cancelling headphones, the voices around you sound muffled. worried at your lack of response you feel the palms of his hand coming to the side of your face to bring you out of your trance.

park wonbin is all you can see. you’re enthralled by the way his hair seems even longer than it was last time, beautifully falling just a few inches above his shoulders. he easily looked the best out of all the boys there, comparable to an angel with the way his delicate features are a distinction from his dark clothes, or his jet black hair that he lets fall freely. that was the man you had fallen in love with, the one who had the ability to render you speechless. the man who had wrapped your heart in a barbed wire of lies and control. a shiver runs down your spine, skin prickling with the memory of his touch, his words. he was here.

‘how is wonbin’s here,’ someone said again, closer this time, making you sure it was yunjin, who was far from pleased, but the damage was already done. he stood at the edge of the dance floor, his gaze locked onto you with the same intensity that had once made you feel special, desired. now, it only filled you with dread, his presence a dark cloud, threatening to consume your light and drag you back into the shadows.

he looks down to your fingers that are laced together with hyuck’s, a sight that ignited a surge of possessiveness within him but you’re unable to tell at first how he’s feeling except for the quirk of his eyebrow. then you notice the way his jaw clenched tightly before he unclenched it and you know what that meant- wonbin was pissed.

panic surged through you, a cold wave that washed away the warmth of the alcohol. you couldn’t handle this. you couldn’t handle him. not here, not now. fear and confusion twisted inside you, making it hard to breathe. the room seems to close in on you, stomach twisting and you quickly excuse yourself, your aim to make it away from his prying eyes.

you turn on your heel, pushing through the crowd, your movements frantic and desperate, too focused on stabilising yourself. the faces around you blurred, their laughter and conversations fading into a distant hum.

you burst into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind you with a loud thud. the room was starkly lit, the harsh fluorescent lights a jarring contrast to the dim, colourful glow outside.

the bathroom was a sanctuary of shadows, the dim light casting long, wavering reflections on the tiled walls. you stood at the sink, gripping its edge with such fervour that your knuckles turned white, your heart a drumbeat of anxiety, pounding in your chest as you stared into the mirror, trying to calm your racing thoughts.

the door creaked open behind you, and a chill crawled up you spine. you didn’t need to turn around to know who had entered.

park wonbin’s presence filled the small space like a dark cloud, heavy and oppressive. he moved with the grace of a predator, his footsteps barely making a sound as he approached you.

‘having fun?’ his voice startles you, heart racing as you accidentally hit the sink, shaking your head like a fool as your heart squeezes in your chest.

you feel bile rise rapidly to your throat, head pounding as the room starts to spin, but seemingly only for you. wonbin looks at you with pure disgust, as if you’re covered in filth, not worthy of being in his presence.

you hated the idea of him being annoyed or disappointed in you and soon tears started to streak down your face, the dam breaking before you could even attempt to hold it in, lip quivering as you blinked rapidly to stop the droplets of water from obstructing your vision.

‘wonbin please-’

‘lee donghyuck? really?’ he barely gives you a chance to speak, his actions contradicting the harsh words he spews as he gently uses his thumb to wipe away a few tears. you’re a whimpering mess, body shaking like a leaf as you try hard to stabilise yourself.

no matter how much time passed, no matter how much you willed yourself to, you couldn’t get over park wonbin. you loved him to a fault, you loved him to the point that it hurt. your love was like a rose, appearing beautiful from the red petals and buds, but stinging like the thorns that weaved up the stem.

‘you have no right to care about who i am or am not dating,’ you echo the words of hyuck, trying to seem bold and brave, pushing his hand away from you.

wonbin stops, his eyes trailing down and stopping at your feet, hair falling in front of his eyes and for a few seconds he doesn’t move. then you see his shoulders move up and down, slowly at first but they increase in speed. you know you shouldn’t be but in worry of him crying you hastily lift his head in your hands. only his face is dry, void of any tears and you see that he’s laughing instead.

‘i don’t-’

‘you’re so fucking stupid, he obviously just wants to use you.’

you’re taken aback by how harsh his words are, realising it was a mistake for you to have even said anything in the first place.you want to leave, to turn away from this suffocating situation to somewhere you can finally breathe but you’re trapped, his hands gripping your wrist, holding you against the wall.

that’s not fair wonbin. you left me,’ your voice is small, almost incomprehensible but he catches on to what you’re saying. he had you right where he wanted you, still stupidly in love with him, and he didn’t know whether to feel pity for your naivety or rejoice.

‘do you know how it felt to hear from other people that you moved on? you hurt me,’ it’s become wonbin’s second nature to turn accusations around and throw the blame on you. to make you feel like the bad guy, like you were the one in the wrong.

it was the final blow to your heart, and you feel yourself about to heave, moving past him with a shove to grip the sink, head dangerously close to the faucet as you try to steady your breathing. but he doesn’t stop there, he won’t be finished till he leaves you a mess on the bathroom floor, broken and unable to move on from him.

‘you know how hard it was for me, and you couldn’t even be patient, you tried to replace me so fast. did you even love me?’

‘stop-‘ you can barely breathe, the room closing in as you try to steady yourself, eyes shut as you pray for a miracle, for something to pull you out of this nightmare.

‘but that’s a stupid question, because i know the answer. you love me to a fault, you love me to the point it hurts you, but like a fool you keep coming back. want to know why? it’s because that’s what love is,’ he’s so close, close enough for you to smell that familiar scent of mint and cedarwood that you loved so much. it’s suffocating, making you lightheaded, and yet just like him you can’t get enough.

‘it’s not like the flowery shit you read in your books. nobody can give you that but me. no one can truly love you but me,’ he continues, not caring for how pale you turn, or how you slowly sink down to your knees, the pain of being so close to him making it unbearable for you to even stand on your own two feet.

he watches as you curl into a ball, despair coursing through your blood and a numbness clouding your eyes. your worst fears had been vocalised- maybe wonbin was the only one who would be able to love you. it made sense that he was the only one to ignite the flame of passion that you felt in the pits of your stomach. it made sense that only he held the ability to temper with your emotions to such an extreme extent. true love, that was what that feeling was.

you shrink back down into your own hollow body, lost, lacking and defeated. you sigh as you see him crouch down till he is eye level with you. you let him use his thumb to tenderly wipe away the tears that he caused as you saturate yourself in dreaded affliction.

he leaned in closer, his voice low but smooth. ‘you know, without me, you would still be just the sad broken girl, unable to love again. i’m the reason that you changed. i’ve helped you become the person you are today.’

his words wrapped around you like a silken noose, tightening with each sentence. you wanted to protest, to assert your own worth independent of his influence, but his presence was overpowering.

every time you had tried to move on, to forget him, you were reminded of the times he had been there for you, the vulnerabilities only he had witnessed, the secrets you both held dear to your hearts. his manipulation was an art form, carefully crafted over time, making her doubt her own feelings and rely more on his.

‘remember when you said you couldn’t imagine your life without me?’ wonbin’s voice was a soft whisper now, his eyes locking onto yours.

‘i know you felt it too. we’re meant to be together.’

your heart ached under the weight of his words, the lines between love and control blurring in the fog of your emotions. you nod slowly, the fight within you dwindling as his grip tightened, pulling you deeper into the web he had spun so expertly around your heart.

‘don’t run away from the truth.’

his words wrapped around you like tendrils of smoke, suffocating and inescapable. you wanted to pull away, to escape the web he was spinning, but you felt rooted to the spot.

‘what truth?’

‘the truth that you have never stopped loving me, you were with donghyuck just to make me mad, to lie to yourself that you could move on from me when we both know that’s not possible,’ he murmured, his voice a silken thread of deceit.

his hand moved from your shoulder to your cheek, a mockery of tenderness. you close your eyes, trying to block out the sensations, but his words kept seeping into your mind, eroding your defences like waves against a crumbling cliff.

‘come with me,’ he coaxed, his voice now a siren’s call. ‘leave this party, leave these people who don’t understand you. let’s find our own way, just the two of us, like it’s supposed to be.’

his manipulation was a masterful dance, each step designed to pull you closer, to break down your will. your eyes open again, your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand. you saw the satisfaction in his eyes, the gleam of triumph that he couldn’t quite hide, but it was too late.

your heart twisted, a mix of fear and the old, dangerous comfort of his words stirring within you.

‘wonbin, i… i don’t know.’

‘come with me, please. let’s leave this place. you know we’re meant to be together. no one will ever love you like i do,’ he reiterated. his manipulation was subtle, insidious, and your defences, worn thin by the weight of your history together, crumbled.

‘okay,’ you whispered, the word barely escaping your lips, your willpower drained.

wonbin smiled, a wolf’s smile, and took your hand. he led you out of the bathroom, his grip firm and possessive. the music thumped through the walls, relentless rhythm that seemed to sync with your racing heart. as you descended down the stairs and walked through the crowded room, your head hung low, the weight of your decision pressing down on you.

the party was in full swing, vibrant laughter and animated conversations filling the room. fairy lights now twinkled overhead, casting a warm glow over the crowded space, yet you felt a chill as you moved towards the door, your ex-boyfriend’s hand firm around your wrist.

yunjin and mark stood near the doorway, their expressions a mirror of the others. yunjin’s eyes were filled with tears, her hand clutching mark’s arm in a silent plea for comfort. mark’s jaw was set, his frustration barely contained as he watched you leave with wonbin.

‘i can’t believe he’s taking her again. after all we’ve done,’ yunjin’s grip on mark’s arm intensifies, her voice trembling out of frustration.

she had seen it all unfold- the sudden arrival of park wonbin, like a dark storm cloud interrupting the starry night. she witnessed your hesitation, your inevitable retreat into the bathroom, and how his figure stalked after yours not long after.

her eyes reflect a mixture of sadness and frustration as she turns to her boyfriend, ‘mark he’s ruined everything. she was so close….’

mark nods in understanding, his own brow furrowed with empathy.

‘she doesn’t deserve this. not after everything he put her through. i was there, mark. he broke her, i was so scared i would lose her.’

you had come so far since breaking free from wonbin’s manipulative grasp. you had found joy and laughter again, surrounded only by people who loved and cherished you, like it was supposed to be. and now, in one swift and calculated move, wonbin had disrupted it all.

it was donghyuck’s face that stung the most though, his normally cheerful and bright expression now a canvas of hurt and confusion. he had hoped that tonight would be a turning point, a chance for you to find happiness away from the shadows of your past, away from wonbin and in his arms instead. now, he watched helplessly as you were led back into the darkness, both physically and metaphorically.

outside, the night air was cool and crisp, hitting you both as you stepped outside, a stark contrast to the heavy atmosphere inside. the noise of the party is muffled behind the closed door. wonbin’s smile widened, the satisfaction of his victory warming him from within. he had you back, ensnared once more in his web of lies and manipulation, pulling you back into his orbit and away from the support and love of your friends.

you walk beside him, heart heavy with regret and self-doubt. the night stretched out before you, a labyrinth of choices and consequences, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking deeper into the maze, farther away from the light. the feeling of eyes watching you from behind following you.

but for now, wonbin’s grip was unyielding, and you followed him into the darkness, hoping desperately that you might one day find your way out.

127 notes · View notes

chuplayswithfire · 1 year ago

Text

Izzy Arc Thoughts, the post!

Having now watched the three episodes three times over (some of them more than that shhhhh), I still have a BUNCH of thoughts about the rest of the crew I want to percolate on, but I had some thoughts on Izzy that I finally feel confident in, as to what's going on in with his character since the end of season 1, and especially the arc he has between Impossible Birds and The Innkeeper.

Being upfront: I wasn't sure what kind of arc the show would do with Izzy and we still obviously don't know the full scope of it, as we have five more episodes to go, but it's definitely been intriguing in a way I didn't anticipate. I figured Izzy would continue on with his antagonistic role, and he still might, but it seems like D Jenks is having fun letting Con have a role with more emotional nuance than in season one, and seeing as that role has an impact on everyone else, I wanted to share my thoughts on what I think is going on with him in the episodes that we've seen so far. I also wanted to start my in depth analysis with a character I don't care about nearly as much (being honest!) as I do the rest of the crew, but who also has a huge impact on two characters I do care very much about, Ed and Stede. I'm planning to analyze Ed and Stede in each episode before we get eps 4 and 5!

This is a long post! It features many quotes directly , transcribed by me and taken from the captions by Max. I used a read more because the whole thing is over 6k in length and analyzes the dynamic presented between Izzy and Ed and Izzy and Stede presented in episodes 1-3 of season 2 of Our Flag Means Death. If the read more doesn't work, that is not on me, sorry.

Alright, so recap: when we left Izzy, he had lashed out at Ed for the person he was choosing to become and the manner in which he was expressing himself and his feelings - the blanket fort, the binging sweets, the singing for the crew, the sharing his feelings and asking to be called Edward, the encouraging a talent show, and then, the cleaning up and comfortably wearing a colorful printed robe of nice, soft fabric. (Quotes: "I should have let the English kill you. This, whatever it is that you've become... is a fate worse than death." "(growled) No. This, this is Blackbeard. Not some (breath) namby-pamby in a silk gown, pining for his boyfriend.”) When these insults get the aggressive reaction from Ed that Izzy associates with the version of Ed he prefers, he encourages him with a smile, hand cupping Ed's cheek, and choking out "There he is." Ed shoves his hand away, backing away with a closed off expression, and Izzy's smile dies and he closes the distance between them. He states what he wants from Ed, makes a threat, and walks away without waiting for a response. (Quote: "Blackbeard is my captain. I serve Blackbeard. Not Edward. Edward better watch his fuckin' step.”)

The next time we see Izzy, Ed has donned his leathers, made his face up with dark make up to look more fierce, and is cutting off Izzy's pink toe and feeding it to him. We know from episode 9 that cutting off toes and feeding it to people was a classic Blackbeard move. For Izzy, this is several things: 1) confirmation that Blackbeard is back, the one who would never let a threat stand and does a good maim 2) a punishment for said threat (Quote: "Threaten me again, ever... I'll feed you the rest. Understand?" "Y-Yes, Blackbeard.") 3) a confirmation that he has his boss back, that whatever Stede has done to his boss' brain is over.

We get confirmation of that third point when Izzy speaks with the crew as they're getting rid of Stede's books and possessions - "Blackbeard is himself again," with a broad smile. Later, we see Izzy abandon the crew on a small island, presumably on Ed's direct orders, as he waves goodbye to Bonnet's playthings - them - as they depart. Izzy has a gun as he stands beside Ed, and they're watching as Frenchie finishes the new flag and hoists it.

That's where we left Izzy in Season 1: standing besides Ed as Blackbird returns to being Blackbeard for a brand new era of being Blackbeard, greatest pirate who ever lived, terror of the seas.

And when we return to the show, that's kind of what we get. Edward is being Blackbeard and Blackbeard is the terror of the seas, a Wanted Poster with so many crimes they're covering both sides of the poster (and yeah some of them are very silly, what midwifery was Ed up to, exactly-), and yet, Izzy is not happy when we see him.

What I think the show works to establish in episode 1 is that what Izzy wanted back was the man he saw as the old Blackbeard, who wasn't afflicted by these feelings of love or softness or "weakness", which he views as something that Stede Bonnet inflicted upon Edward. We know that, because it's how he phrased it to Chauncey - that "[Stede] had done something to [his] boss's brain". He seemed to view these feelings as something akin to an infection from Stede, that was corrupting the Blackbeard he knew and respected to something less than. Izzy wanted the old Blackbeard back and he thought that when Ed took his toe and fed it to him, said he'd killed Lucius, all that I recapped, that he'd gotten just that. A return to his preferred normal, where everything makes sense exactly as he thinks it should. Ed back to normal, it's Blackbeard time, getting rid of the dead weight and all that.

Except that's not what he's gotten at all, and I don't think Izzy had fully grasped why prior to episode 1. He has suspicions, of course, but it takes him a while to build to a confrontation about it.

Because see, Ed switched from healthier coping mechanisms like crying, eating sweets, creative outlets, and talking to people about his feelings to much more acceptably pirate means of coping with his feelings - violence in the form of raids and drugs (rhino horn, which thought people joke about it being an aphrodisiac, has a variety of believed medical uses in Vietnamese medicine, treating ailments including hangovers, fever, gout and potentially terminal illnesses, like cancer or stroke). Raids and drug use should be totally acceptable means of managing your feelings as a pirate, except that Ed is going too far with them, pushing the crew to the breaking point and beyond. They're raiding every day, they're not taking breaks, they're not having days off, they're chasing down ships as fast as they can take them down and now they're going to be throwing away loot. Izzy is realizing that actually he has not gotten the Blackbeard he wanted and things are not great. He's also lost at least two more toes.

He and Ed have an early exchange - Izzy looking sickly, skin sallow, what appears to be hair dye or make up trickling from his hairline, Ed prepping and snorting rhino horn like it's cocaine:

Izzy: "The crew are lookin' a tad worse for wear.” Ed: "Did everyone get cake?" Izzy: "Yeah, they got cake." Ed: "Well they're, they're welcome to have some rhino horn. Just ground up a fresh batch." (snorts rhino horn) "Oh fuck! You want some?" Izzy: "No, not right now, no." Ed: "Well then, get back to work ya fuckin' lightweight!" [cut to Izzy among the crew] Ed voiceover: "Can't do the job, someone else will."

Throughout this scene, Izzy looks increasingly distressed as Ed does drugs - he looks his most distressed during the voice over however, his jaw flexing, his eyes watery.

This is what appears to have shaken him the most - the idea that he's replaceable, that Ed can and would get rid of him in favor of someone else. It's obviously incredibly distressing to Izzy, in a way that I genuinely don't think the loss of his toes was. Izzy clearly values his relationship with Edward - while in season 1 he definitely wanted a promotion and liked the idea of authority, of being captain, the fact that he was swiftly mutinied and nearly murdered seemed to put a kabosh on his ambitions, and reoriented him to staying at Ed's side. We know that Izzy at least believes that loyalty is important - we know that he thinks he's acting from loyalty when he tries to make Ed watch as his boyfriend (in Izzy's words) is murdered.

Izzy values his position with Blackbeard. He serves Blackbeard, respects him, was honored to work for a legend. And while this is supposition, he seems to have considered himself and Edward as having a close, intimate relationship that did not require words or confessions or honest expression of feeling, this kind of bond where words aren't necessary, because they're tough, manly men who don't need to express their feelings.

But.

Then we get this line. Then we get, "can't do the job, someone else will." Seven words, and they shake Izzy to his core, make him finally start questioning his until then unquestioned belief in the ways of the world and his relationship with Edward. It shakes him enough that he actually breaks in front of the crew, in a scene that's incredibly funny, but also leads to them extending him some genuinely unearned compassion, as they question the healthiness of his relationship with Blackbeard - even as Izzy is finally questioning if he has a relationship with Blackbeard.

Following his breakdown, Izzy has the crew bring the treasure above deck, but doesn't go through with making them throw it overboard. Instead, he takes those new doubts and brings them to Ed, pushing for a conversation where he is clearly for the first time in their working relationship expressing his thoughts on said relationship in word form.

Izzy: "The crew are refusing to part with any treasure." Ed: "Why?" Izzy: "Because it's fuckin' treasure." Ed: "Not good enough. (stops toying with knife, slides it in Izzy's direction.) And that's another toe. Take your boot off." (stands from seated position, walks over to Izzy.) Izzy: (starts by looking down at the ground, then slowly raises gaze to Ed's face as he speaks.) "Who am I to you?" Ed: “...What?” Izzy: “We’ve worked together for years. (sniff) You know me better than anyone has ever known me, and I daresay the same is true for me about you.” (a musical beat plays. Izzy lowers his eyes from Ed’s face, looking in the middle distance.) Izzy: I have (several second long pause) love for you, Edward.” Ed: (starting as Izzy is speaking, right after the word love) “Oh, come on.” (walks away from Izzy, circling around him.) Izzy: I’m worried about you. We all are. The atmosphere on this ship is completely poisoned.” (pause) “But if we could all just maybe (pause, swallow, visibly struggling with words) talk it through.” (musical beat) Ed: (slowly looks up) “As a crew?” Izzy: (face falls subtly, taking on a starker look of upset)

The scene transitions away, but let’s really dig into all of this for a second, because this is crucial. This is Izzy going from matters between us are unspoken but profound to I have doubts and I am verbalizing my thoughts in the hope that they will be assuaged. Izzy is expressing aloud his thoughts on their relationship for the first time, because as Izzy puts it, he thought he knew Edward better than anyone. He thought he understood him better than anyone else alive. Now, we know that Izzy doesn’t understand Edward already - we’ve known that he doesn’t actually see the person Edward all along, but this was made especially clear in episode 6, where his voiceover notes that he is “starting to suspect that Edward has no intention of ending Stede Bonnet’s life”, at a point in time when Ivan and Fang are confident the plan is off and everyone else seems pretty clear there’s a co-captaining effect going on.

The point is that all this time, Izzy has been acting from a place of assuming he knows Edward best of anyone in the world, that he understands him, that he can follow what’s going on with him and that they are intimately bound together, in this deep and unspoken love for each other that doesn’t have to be said allowed, but only has to exist, unacknowledged but deeply felt.

But then Ed said that he could be replaced. Then Ed said that he could find someone else to do Izzy’s job.

And this introduced doubt into Izzy’s mind, for the first time. This is what made Izzy verbalize all these things - what made him ask who he is to Ed, what made him state that he has love for Ed, that he worries for Ed, that he and Ed understand each other better than anyone else… because now he has to say them aloud, because he has to be reassured that these things are true.

That he is someone important to Ed. That Ed has love for Izzy and knows that Izzy has love for Ed. That Ed understands Izzy, that Ed knows that Izzy understands Ed. For years, he has thought that he and Ed understood each other in this profound way, that they alone truly knew the other, and he has to question if that’s true.

He’s being vulnerable, in a way vaguely akin to the vulnerability Ed offered in episode 10, and it clearly doesn’t land. He wants reassurance that this deep and profound love and intimacy he was so sure was there, is real, and Ed can’t give him that reassurance because it’s not true. Not in the way Izzy was so sure it was. Not in the way he ruined Ed’s life to believe.

Izzy finally decides to put himself out there, and all that Ed gets out of it is the echo of Stede Bonnet, and it makes Izzy’s face fall like a rock. There’s the answer he didn’t want: the relationship he believed he had with Ed is not there, and Ed is still, utterly, truly, fixed in his feelings for Stede Bonnet.

(and like just to clarify, I really don’t feel bad for Izzy here - he doesn’t have the relationship he wants with Ed because he’s never tried to really understand Ed, or listen to him, and he isn’t what Ed wants in a partner, but, objectively, Izzy does make himself vulnerable here, and he’s shot down, because Ed just doesn’t return his feelings)

Which leads us into the continuing scene. Ed goes to confront the crew about the atmosphere of the ship being poisoned, which everyone denies at gun point, leading Ed to shoving the gun under his chin and having a little conversation with himself, unsettling everyone around.

Ed: “I know who we should ask, ol’ Blackbeard. Hello mate. You think the vibe on the ship is poisoned? I don’t know, Blackbeard. Maybe a little toxic sometimes. Maybe it’s a bit uncomfortable sometimes. You do make the crew a little bit uncomfortable sometimes. They think you’re crazy. Well, I’m not crazy. I don’t feel crazy. I feel pretty fucking good actually.” (the camera is focusing on the faces of all the crew as he gives this monologue, gun still cocked under his chin.) Izzy: “Fucking End!” (Screamed at Ed’s back) Ed: (slowly turns to Izzy.) Crew: (Fang looking shocked and saddened. Frenchie shakes his head very minutely, looking at Izzy.) Izzy: “The atmosphere on this ship is (word drawn out) fucked.” (working his jaw, looking down and to the side as he says this.) “Everyone knows why.” Ed: (nods once, sets his chin, walks forward.) “Well I don’t. Enlighten me.” Izzy: (smiling with mouth shut, suppressing a laugh. Shrugs.) Your feelings for Stede fuckin’ Bonnet.” Ed: (Nods as soon as Izzy says Stede’s name. Shoots him in the leg.) Izzy: (cries out in pain drops, clutching his knee.) Ed: “Frenchie.” Frenchie: “Yes?” Ed: “Congratulations, you are now first mate.” Frenchie: “Oh, no. I don’t, I don’t think I’m qualified.” Ed: “‘course you are mate. You can start by cleaning up that mess.” (tilts head towards Izzy. Turns to rest of crew, onlooking.) “And the rest of you, you throw this shit overboard and get suited up.” (claps twice, turns away.) “We’ve got a record to break.” Izzy: (still groaning in pain.)

So that was a lot.

Izzy has realized, over the course of this episode, that his relationship with Ed is not what he thought it was, is not what he wants it to be, and that Ed is still and probably always will be, in love with Stede fuckin’ Bonnet. This is why Izzy decides to say what he believes to be true - that the atmosphere is fucked because of Ed’s feelings for Stede. It’s important that we know this is not actually true - while Ed being ghosted by Stede did start his spiral, Ed was able to stop that spiral with the help of community and reaching for healthy coping mechanisms. Ed spiraled again after Izzy intervened, insulting, threatening, and demeaning him as discussed in the recap, and the spiral isn’t about his romantic feelings - it’s about, as s2e3 The Innkeeper firmly establishes, his feeling fundamentally unloveable and monstrous. Throughout s2e1, Ed is clearly denying the crew days off and meaningful rest out of pursuit of as many raids as possible. He’s trying not to touch the ground, flying high both via drugs and adrenaline, and his exchange with Frenchie at the end of the impossible makes it clear he doesn’t want to stop.

It’s also very important, that throughout this entire thing, the only crew member Ed actually hurts is Izzy, who doesn’t actually object to losing his toes. Now, I’m on record for being one of the many people who think Izzy is actually glad that the toe scene happens - I don’t think he actually especially wanted to lose his toes, but, he was glad to get back the Blackbeard who would cut off toes, and I do think he felt there was a certain intimacy in being the only one experiencing violence. Izzy is a masochist and has previously expressed delight in being the subject of violence - was very happy to be choked by Ed in s1ep10 - so while this is not safe or sane, I do think it’s consensual, in the sense that Izzy thinks this is part of their mutual love, their unspoken but deep and crucially intimate togetherness that leads them to know each other on the deepest level.

And then Ed says he can be replaced. And then Ed makes it clear that even when Izzy is emotionally vulnerable, Ed’s heart is with Stede. And Izzy realizes, he doesn’t have that place with Edward that he thought he did. He doesn’t have that special relationship. This is not intimacy, for Ed. And Ed shooting him and turning away isn’t even the final nail in that door.

Because, in s2e2, Izzy is still alive. The crew has hidden him in the walls and are trying to preserve his life, even as Izzy screams for them to kill him and calls them cowards for not doing so. The crew is gathering medicine, preparing an amputation, figuring out what to do with Izzy to try and keep him alive, and Izzy wants them to kill him. (Quote: “Kill me you fucking cowards! Kill me -”)

I would say it’s because he’s realized the relationship he devoted his life too and considered sacred, the relationship he considers most valuable… is not that to the man he loves. Ed replaced him and pirate code says the first mate should kill him. The first mate (Frenchie) refuses to kill him. Frenchie is not much for that, and neither is JIm. Both of them, having experienced a better life and place of work when Stede was captain and Ed was their co-captain, are trying to preserve Izzy’s life the best they can. Jim especially clings to the memory of when life meant something on this ship, even Izzy’s life.

Which - this makes sense coming from Jim, and I think it’s why they chose Jim, because Jim wasn’t present for Izzy being captain or the mutiny. Jim has the least complicated relationship with Izzy aside from Fang, who is notably not present in any of the scenes to do with rescuing Izzy, despite having been clearly shocked and appalled that Izzy was shot.

Izzy, is not thrilled to be being kept alive, but the fact that Izzy is kept alive, means that Izzy has to process his feelings - and face Ed again, who, having shot Izzy, mourned and sobbed, has woken up, cleaned himself up, cleaned his space out, and decided to seek death.

From Izzy.

This, I think, is the second most crucial moment in Izzy’s arc and transition, because Izzy thought he was someone of incredible importance to Ed, and he also thought that he knew and understood Ed better than anyone, and that Ed crucially, understood him just as well. He thought that even without any emotional honesty or vulnerability, they knew each other more than anyone else possibly could.

He thinks that Ed knows him.

And Ed comes to him, and they have the following exchange:

Ed: “Morning.” Izzy: “My leg?” (looking down his body.) Ed: (laughing) “Yeah. Oh, no, that’s gone now. Up in Leg Heaven.” (sets the smelling salts down, turns to look down at Izzy.) Izzy: (looks up at Ed.) “Have you come to take the other one?” Ed: “I think one’s quite enough. I just popped down to say a proper goodbye.” (reaches behind him, draws gun. Izzy: (watches the gun, looks down from Ed’s face to gun and back as Ed cocks and loads it.) Ed: (looking at the gun, not Izzy.) “Had a dream about you last night.” (flips gun to offer the handle to Izzy.) “Take it.” Izzy: “Oh, fuck off. Fuck off. Fuck off.” (slaps at Ed’s hand, looking away from Ed.) Ed: “Hold it! Hold it.” (they are speaking over each other. Gets the gun in Izzy’s hand, directs it at Ed’s head. Looking at Izzy.) “I dreamt that ya killed me. Shot me right through the skull.” (moving the gun and Izzy’s hand, drawing it to his forehead, leaning closer. The camera moves between Ed’s face and Izzy’s.) Izzy: (smiles slowly then sneers.) “Good for you.” Ed: (blinks and nods slowly.) “It was good for me. It’s just what the doctor ordered.” (The camera moves from Ed’s face to Izzy’s showing him with that frown as Ed stands over him, leaving the gun in Izzy’s hand.) “Anyway, it wasn’t even like that.” (walks away from Izzy.) Izzy: (eyes tracking Ed as he walks away.) Ed: “Not in my dream.” (moves to stand at the foot of Izzy’s bed, back to Izzy.) “I was standing.” (inhales). “Just like this.” (Closes eyes. Spreads arms.) Izzy: (from his view, Ed is standing against the light, back open, arms spread. He blinks and raises the gun audibly.) Ed: (Swallows, holding his arms out.) Izzy: (smiles, sniffs audibly, dropping the smile as he clenches his teeth. Laughs harshly, mockingly, gun raised.) “Ohhhhh, ah, you scared, Eddie? Too scared - too scared to do it yourself? Ay.” (laughs) “Go on, clean up your own fucking mess. I’m not doin’ it. I’ve been doin’ it all my fucking life.” Ed: (looks down, disappointed. blinks.) Izzy: Fuck off. Ed: (nods, swallows.) “Farewell, old chum.” (whispered. He walks up the stairs and away from Izzy.) Izzy: (watches, shaking, nodding slowly himself, breath hitching.) Ed: (reaches the top of the stairs. A gunshot sounds. A creak. Ed lowers his eyes, looking down at something off camera. Nods. Exhales.) “I loved you” (a pause) “best I could.” The scene transitions from there, and the next we see of Ed, he is initiating plan two of suicide attempts: steering the ship into a storm and goading the ship to kill him or die with him.

But Ed’s deal is so many more posts from here. No, we’re focused on Izzy for the moment, so what did this whole exchange mean for him?

First, the thought that Ed had come to do more damage. That Ed was there for Izzy, that this was about Izzy. But it’s not. Ed has had enough of that. He notably does not apologize. Izzy notably does not seem to expect one. There is history here, and the last time they were in positions like this, the camera angle was flipped - Ed at Izzy’s right, a hand covering Izzy’s mouth, making him eat his toe and the idea that things could go as they had been, that the Blackbeard Izzy had schemed and tried to have a man killed over was back. This time, Ed is at Izzy’s left, with a gun, and he doesn’t touch Izzy except to hand over the gun.

This is where it’s so important that Izzy believed he and Ed knew each other best of all. Because in episode one, Izzy was getting worried for Ed, but it’s in episode 2, in this moment, as Ed hands him a gun, that he realizes Ed wants to die. And it’s in this moment that he realizes that Ed fully believes Izzy could. That Ed has taken these actions believing that they would lead Izzy to kill him. That Ed wants to commit suicide via Izzy, that he thinks killing Ed is something that Izzy wants, could want, could do.

This is Izzy, realizing that he and Ed don’t understand each other nearly as well as he thought. This is Izzy, realizing that Ed looks at him and sees a man who could and would kill him, when Izzy thinks that he couldn’t ever do that. This is Izzy, having the true final death knell on that relationship he believed they had, the intimacy he believed they had, the lack of a need for words. He thought all this time that he knew Ed best and that Ed knew him, and he doesn’t want to kill Ed - and he’s also hurt and angry and upset to know Ed genuinely thought he would. That Ed would come to him for this, because Izzy doesn’t think he could kill Ed, but Ed thinks he could.

In his mind, Ed should know that Izzy could never kill him, should trust him, should know without having to be told that it would never happen, but here’s Ed in the flesh, asking him to kill him.

It’s over, everything he thought was there.

And Ed? Ed did care about Izzy, in his own way, but every overture he made was denied, shot down, Izzy not interested in the bird guy, the ship, the clouds and how they contribute to a plan, the drugs, and like, Izzy is allowed to not be interested in any of those things - but these are the things Ed was interested in. These are the ways Ed tried to connect most recently, and Izzy shot them all down. To Izzy, there was a deep and intimate connection in spite of all of that. To Ed, every way he could connect with Izzy was shot down. He loved him the best he could, which wasn’t a way that could provide either of them what they wanted. Izzy had love for Ed, but that love could not be fruitful or nurturing to either of them, because it was unspoken and therefore ripe for misunderstanding.

Izzy stews down there in the ship, in his own thoughts, while Ed steers the ship into a storm and makes his last effort to die, to have it all end - to push the crew to killing him, or dying with him. And then he ties his leg up, makes his way above deck, shoots Ed in the arm to keep him from killing them all, and tries to kill himself instead, staring at Ed as he tries to shoot himself with the gun Ed wanted Izzy to kill him with. Despite the gun being aimed for the temple, he fails and falls back, leaving himself staring up as it rains on him, hiding any tears. Fang brings Ed down, and the crew gather together, Fang supporting Izzy’s weight, as Jim lifts a cannonball with a scream and prepares to bring it down on Ed’s head. Izzy watches without interfering.

EDIT: ADDED THIS SECTION:

A quick addendum: even though I watched episode 2 so many times, I didn't realize that Izzy tried to kill himself after Ed left the room! The gunshot that Ed hears is in fact Izzy trying and failing to shoot himself right then and there, in that moment that Ed departs. Izzy's forehead was so wet and the background of him falling back and water splashing was such that I truly thought that took place in the rain, and that he tried to shoot himself after shooting Ed. Thanks to @glamaphonic for letting me know. This does leave me even more certain that Izzy is motivated to do this because he has finally understood both that Edward wants to die, and that he and Edward never understood each other as well as he thought, which brings the last years of his life into question. He tried to kill himself, failed, and came up to stop Ed from bringing down the ship. It's not just that Izzy stews down there - as Ed departs, leaving Izzy behind, Izzy takes the shot. He tries and fails to kill himself, and wakes and climbs the steps to take the shot at Ed he couldn't before.

The next time we see Izzy is s1e3, The Innkeeper, when Stede crosses over to the Revenge and finds the crew amidst the wreckage. He’s eating a raw bird with the rest of the crew, and then is brought aboard the Red Flag. As Stede asks the crew about Ed’s location, Izzy watches him. He’s the only one not eating soup, hands tucked over his chest.

As Stede starts asking questions - dangerous questions for Izzy and the former crew of the Revenge - he walks over with a crutch.

Izzy: “Bonnet. Good to see you.” Stede: “Piss off, Izzy. I don’t wanna hear from you.”

Stede talks to the rest of the crew, as Izzy grimaces. Stede pays him no attention. The next time Izzy speaks up: Stede: “What about my painting? Why is it all stabbed up?” Izzy: (looking up through his hair, smiling.) “That was me.” Stede: (sighs and walks away without response.) Izzy: (blinks slowly, looking dismayed. We see him start to turn his head in Stede’s direction.)

Well, that seemed like someone trying to pick a fight, and disappointed he didn’t get one, too me. In Izzy’s mind, Stede is his romantic rival, the man Ed loves where he didn’t love Izzy, and, currently, also a threat, because if he keeps asking questions and reveals the mutiny, they’ll all be killed.

But Stede is one more thing. Stede is another dagger in Izzy’s heart, as we continue transcribing:

Izzy: “Don’t cry Bonnet. We just redecorated.” (has clearly been following Stede.) Stede: “I don’t mind, actually. I think the knives really help bring the place together.” (calmly stated before he walks away to look at the rest of the furniture.) Izzy: (drops his head, looking away as though trying to gather words.) Stede: (turns to look at Izzy.) “What’d you do with him? I know he wouldn’t have left by choice.” Izzy: (sniffles) I know you think you understand him. Stede: (interrupting) “He was either gonna watch the world burn or die trying, so which was it?” (leaning forward despite the considerable distance, still calm.) Izzy: (swallows, dips head. Starts moving forward, gritting teeth through words.) “Alright Bonnet. Have it your own way.” (stalking forward to Stede on his crutch.) “He went mad. He tortured the crew. He took my fuckin’ leg ‘cause I dared to mention your fuckin’ name.” (emphasis on the curses, slams fist when he says your name.) Stede: (in drawn breath, turns away) Izzy: “He was a wild dog, and we dealt with him like one.” Stede: “You sent him to Doggy Heaven.” Izzy: (stares in silence, head shaking. Flashes back to Ed laying in the rain, breathing out “Finally,” and laughing as Jim brings a cannonball down on him as Izzy watches. Stares. Turns to look away from Stede, face twisting. Shakes his head. Shuts his eyes. Breathes the word:) “No.” Stede: (turns to look back at him.) Izzy: “I could never do that.” (looks away, still not looking Stede in the face). “We deserved him on a beach (sniffles) left nature to do the rest. More than he would have done for us.” Stede: (turns away, breathing out.) Izzy: (continuing) “You and me did this to him. And we cannot let this crew suffer anymore for our mistakes.” Stede: (turns to look at Izzy) “Why would they suffer?” Izzy: “If your captain senses mutiny, she’ll kill us all. That’s pirate code.” Stede: (camera lingers on his face as he swallows.)

Doggy Heaven has a heavy meaning in this series, considering that Ed was supposed to send Stede to Doggy Heaven, and couldn’t because of his love for Stede. Ed couldn’t bring himself to kill Stede, but here is Stede, who Izzy views as a romantic rival, guessing that Izzy could kill Ed. Acknowledging that he, like Ed, believes that Izzy could kill Ed. Izzy, who thinks he couldn’t and wouldn’t and has love for Ed, and sees himself as loyal.

But Izzy did stand back as Ed was killed, and that’s why he reaches for dehumanizing language to defend the action - he calls Ed a wild dog and that they dealt with him like one.

(It’s the first time in the show that a white character makes a racist remark without immediate consequences. Before anyway says otherwise, yes it is always racist for white people to dehumanize a man of color. It is always racist to say a person of color is or was an animal or liken them to being an animal. He could have said that Ed was a danger to the crew in any number of ways but he reached for likening him to a creature less than human and yeah that’s a racist thing to do. I believe the show did not follow through with consequences for this action because it’s clear that Izzy is STILL trying to pick a fight with Stede.)

The commonality in all of these scenes with Stede are twofold. One, Izzy is trying to distract Stede from the truth of the mutiny and what the crew did (and the fact that Ed is still aboard the Revenge, left for dead [or as Izzy put it, for nature to do the rest]). The second is that Izzy is trying and failing to pick a fight - failing, because Stede won’t take him up on it. At all. Stede is not engaging with Izzy at this point outside of the practical matter of seeking information, and that’s all he has to spare for Izzy - he’s already told him to piss off once, and that’s as much energy as he spends on it, but Izzy comes at Stede antagonistically more than once - three times, actually, and I think it’s because if he has a fight with Stede, and Stede says all the things he’s thinking, about how awful Izzy is, how he’s a traitor, how could he have hurt Ed, any of those things, then Izzy can fight about it, and he can justify it to himself, and he can ignore the thought from now on, because it’s the same thought that Stede fuckin’ Bonnet is having, and those thoughts are worthless.

But Stede doesn’t give him that. Stede doesn’t give him a fight at all. Stede walks away from Izzy again and again and again and in doing so does not grant Izzy an out, an out that can ONLY come from Stede, because no one else is going to disagree with the mutiny.

Stede is the only one who could give him that fight, and Stede refuses. And Izzy continues to have to sit with his own thoughts and justifications and they clearly aren’t enough for him, because he’s continuing to push.

Izzy is also trying to protect himself and the crew, here. It’s very much about that. He is trying to keep himself and them from dying by being caught out for mutiny, but I think it’s interesting that it’s only here that he tries to take accountability for what he said and did to Ed, and it’s in service of avoiding what he’s actually done. Izzy says that he and Stede did this to Ed - this that resulted in, as he says, Ed going mad and torturing the crew and having to be mutinied and abandoned on the beach. Izzy needs Stede to feel equally responsible - so that Stede will help protect the crew, but also because I think Izzy is feeling guilty and has been, because he could watch Ed die, and he could hurt Ed, and he didn’t think of himself as that person, but he is and was, and thinking that he caused all of this himself is too much. Better to give some of it to Stede, and help the crew out as well as himself.

He had love for Ed, in his own way, and he thought they understood each other and had a partnership, but here’s Stede fuckin’ Bonnet, who only knew Ed for a matter of weeks, and understood him better than Izzy did and wouldn’t do the thing that Izzy did, and this is the final nail for Izzy, the thing he’s struggling with in this whole revelation that Ed didn’t have any romantic love for him, that there was no special intimate romance between them that didn’t need to be said or expressed or acknowledged with words or vulnerability to exist, because Stede takes one look at the situation and can summarize what happened. Stede knew that Ed would want to die, because you can’t actually burn the world down. You can say “burn the world or die trying”, but the only end result is dying trying.

And Izzy, I genuinely don’t think, understood that Ed wanted to die. Not until Ed offered him the gun. Not until Ed spelled it out. Izzy knew that Ed was fucked up over his feelings, but I don’t think he understood where they were leading.

But here’s Stede, and he did, and Izzy can’t take that, which is why once the truth is out and the mutineers are locked in the brig awaiting probable execution, Izzy tries to pick a fight one more time, even now that there’s nothing to distract Stede from.

Izzy: (hears footsteps and turns his head.) Stede: (comes to the brig, staring through the bars at Izzy, then the rest of the crew.) Izzy: (smiles) “Go on Bonnet, give me your worst.” Crew: (looks up at Stede slowly.) Stede: (Looks at all of them, silent and not visibly angry, somber. Tilts his head down, eyes closed. Opens his eyes, shoves against the bars and turns and walks away without a word.) Izzy: (Drops the smile. Stares forward into the distance, eyes visibly wet with tears, blinks several times).

So, clearly trying for a fight, wanting one, and continually being denied. Izzy is almost certainly grieving Ed, the relationship he thought they had, and also his leg, and Stede is the only other person here who would even possibly mourn Ed too, and Stede refuses to give him any response. Even when goaded, even knowing the truth, he has nothing to say to him. The next time Stede and Izzy are in the same room, Stede has concocted an escape plan, and doesn’t look at or speak to Izzy at all as he gives instructions and organizes the escape.

And when they have made it back to their ship, when they’re getting the wheel and rigging set for escape, they have a final conversation:

Izzy: (walks up behind Stede, who is watching the Red Flag.) “I just wanted to thank you for-” Stede: (walks away without letting him finish.) Izzy: (looks down, is left standing alone as live moves on the ship.)

Over the course of these three episodes, Izzy’s plot is realizing that he was fundamentally wrong about his relationship with Ed, his understanding of Ed as a person, and the depths of Ed’s feelings and despair. I think he’s also realizing that he was wrong about his relationship with Stede - he saw Stede as a romantic rival, and someone who hated him as much as he hates Stede, but given the opportunity to antagonize Izzy again and again, Stede refuses, because he doesn’t care about Izzy nearly enough.

Izzy has misunderstood the nature of his relationship as it were with both of these men, who are, and always were, predominantly, chiefly, and only, interested in each other.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd s2 spoilers

369 notes · View notes

a-killer-obsession · 8 months ago

Text

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Initiation

Woe, backstory be upon yee

Mild Egghead Island spoilers (I'm talking like, episode 2 of the anime arc, super early)

WC: ~13k (sorry, I promise they won't usually be this long!)

Day 0

You were already exhausted by the time you made it to the secluded back end of the island where the Victoria Punk was anchored. It wasn't docked since there was no dock in the area, just anchored a little ways off shore as close as the pirates could get it without running it into the sand bank, but several small dinghy were pulled up on the sandy shore waiting for the pirates to use. Even from the beach though, you could judge the size and style of the ship, appreciating what looked like a large dinosaur skull mounted at the front in lieu of a figurehead, the matching rib bones lining the sides and the large black flag that hung from the main mast, painted with a jolly roger that resembled Kid. Humble.

Several trips back and forth had already been made with the supplies looted from the marine compound, the ship bursting at the seams with loot. With the last of it finally set on the boats, the pirates began pulling them out to the water, paddles in hand to make the short trip to the main ship.

You weren't exactly keen on being tied to the mast of the ship for a week, but you figured it was better than some of the hazing you'd heard other pirates go through, and it sure beat the various cold dark cells you'd spent the last several years in. Considering you were a woman, about to board a ship full of men, it could always be much, much worse. You'd managed to at least down four (and a half, you still mourned your dropped one) apples and a banana you'd scavenged from some of the crates being moved after the battle, getting as much food in as you could on the walk to the ship. It at least meant you had a small reset to work with after being near starved for longer than you could recall. It was only a week you'd be starved at the mast, barely anything compared to what you’d been through, and once it was over, you would be free.

You'd spent most of your life under the firm, possessive thumb of the world government, moved from marine base to marine base, constantly under the guidance of abusers who got a kick out of controlling someone they knew to be more powerful than themselves. It boosted their ego, even if you were a scrawny woman - they knew the power you held, and it swelled their pride to dominate you. They never really cared about you as a person, only your ability to kill, and when you'd failed to become the obedient dog they wanted you’d been discarded without a second thought. You knew Kid was the same, the only leverage you had with him was as a weapon, but at the very least he had promised not to touch you, and you’d put yourself in a strong position right from the get go to prove to him that you weren't to be messed with. It was a fresh start for you, you would finally have a taste of freedom, away from the people who had beaten and abused you.

The fact that it came under the guise of being a pirate was no bother to you - you enjoyed killing, but you were also undoubtedly lazy. If you followed the Kid Pirates you could kill all you wanted without having to deal with the repercussions or figuring out how to escape on your own, and you'd have the added benefit of a protective buffer between you and the marines who would no doubt come looking for you when they learned of your escape. This crew had a reputation for being bloodthirsty and ruthless, and they knew what you could do, so you knew you would find no judgment here. And if pirates were known for anything, it was hating the marines and the world government, a sentiment you wholeheartedly shared. You would fit right in here.

As you approached the water's edge you adjusted the dial on your helmet, the visor shifting from a dark purple to a more vibrant, richer blue. You scanned the ocean with your eyes, now able to see under the dark waves with your enhanced vision, and once you were happy with the lack of seakings visible you shifted it back to the purple. Killer quirked an eyebrow at you, not that you could see it under his mask, watching you with curiosity before returning his attention to pulling the boat nearest to your group out to the water. He made a mental note to ask you about the mask's functions later.

Once the dinghy was floating in the water, the last stragglers of the crew began to jump in, and you hesitantly waded into the water behind them, feeling yourself grow weaker as the water raised above your knees and soaked the ends of your marine issue shorts, before Kid, growing impatient, grabbed you under the arms and lifted you into the small boat. You made a small huff but settled yourself on the thin seat between him and Killer. You were somewhat squished between the large men, it was just as well you were skinny, and you leaned forward to ensure your mask would not be damaged as they began to row away from the shore.

It was funny, as you watched the marine base sink away from view, you wondered how long you had even been here. Well, not here specifically, you knew you'd only been at this base a few weeks. More like, how long you'd been a prisoner. It was hard to tell the passing of time when you'd spent so much time in windowless cells, when they never consistently gave you meals, and with the lack of nutrition even your period was inconsistent, so that was no help in keeping track of time either. The commodore having you brought to his office was the only real signifier of time passed that you had to go off, guessing he probably sent for you every couple of days, sometimes more often.

They usually moved you between bases on a monthly basis, but sometimes it seemed like you spent only weeks at a base, sometimes multiple months. It'd been so long since they discarded you that you weren't even sure how old you were anymore. If you had to guess, you'd say 25, but really you didn't know for sure. You weren't even sure when your birthday was, you'd been really young when you got your devil fruit and it had destroyed any cognitive power you had for a long time.

The boat you were on was the last to pull up alongside the Victoria Punk, with the other ones already in the process of being unloaded and hauled up to the deck for storage. You had no intention of climbing the rope ladder that had been thrown down, given your arms were currently so weak, so you stood and quickly moon stepped the short distance up to the main deck. Exhausted, you laid down and sprawled out on the wooden surface like a starfish, taking advantage of the ability to lay flat while it lasted before you were inevitably tied to the mast, enjoying the warm sunlight you had been so direly missing. At least that was one advantage to being tied to the mast, you hadn't had fresh air in so long that you probably would have spent the next few nights out on the deck by choice anyway. you were looking forward to seeing the stars.

A shadow loomed over you, and you grumbled at the sudden lack of warmth as you opened your eyes. Kid was standing over your head, upside down from your point of view, looking down at you with an annoying smirk on his painted lips. You let out a deep sigh and sat up, before standing with a huff and walking to the main mast. You didn't have to be told, you knew what was coming. You slid down against it, landing on your ass with a pout as one of the commanders, Heat, you recognized from his bounty poster, brought over a heavy reel of thick rope.

Most of the crew watched with curiosity as Heat tied you to the mast, wrapping the rope around you and the thick wooden pole several times, pinning your torso and arms against it before knotting it well out of your reach. The crew knew well what that meant, that you were on trial to become a new crewmate, and you would be there for seven days just as they all had. If you were just a prisoner you would have been taken straight to the brig, and definitely bound with seastone. If you were a guest, you'd likely have been taken straight to Kid's room. The fact that you put up no fight also made it obvious that this was by choice. They'd never inducted a woman before and an excited, slightly confused buzz of conversation arose from the crew as they watched you wiggle, testing the limitations of your restraints, before finally settling in and stilling.

“Seven days, little one,” Kid told you, crouching so his face was close to yours. He gave you a smug grin, and you returned it with your own playful smile, ready and willing for what would be an easy ordeal for you. He knew it too, given it was clear you were used to being starved, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest of his crew if he didn't at least put on a show of initiating you, and it would ultimately help you earn the respect of his crew. Before standing upright again he unhooked the holster from your thigh, pocketing the dagger. You growled a warning at him when his touch lingered on your skin, before he smirked and finally stood.

“See you in seven days then, Captain,” you yawned, squirming a little to get comfortable then closing your eyes, resting your head back against the mast to sleep. You were desperate for a nap after using what little strength you had left on your Meteor Wave, and it's not like there was anything else for you to do now that you were tied to the mast. You had all the time in the world to take in your surroundings and eye up the crew, for now what you wanted was some rest.

“Alright pussies,” Kid announced to his crew, standing tall and proud after a successful day, to which they all silenced their gossiping and turned to attention, “this here is Yin. She's the reason we came to this island, and will be a powerful asset for us in the future. She's agreed to join the crew, under some annoying conditions, but I don't want to hear a single complaint about it from you assholes. She's worth the strength of a thousand men, so you will treat her with respect. And under no circumstances will you touch her without her permission. Keep your tiny dicks in your pants or I'll cut them off and feed ‘em to you. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a murmur of aye aye captain’s before Kid dismissed them to finish their preparations to leave the island. There were still a few tasks left for him to do, like checking what his crew had looted and getting the report on how many men were injured or killed during the battle. You were already deep asleep by the time the anchor was raised, long since fallen victim to your exhaustion. Kid and Killer watched you sleep from a distance, a million questions in their heads, but most of all both confused that; one, this scrawny, irritating thing was the powerful weapon they'd been hunting for, and; two, this outwardly innocent, sweet looking girl was sleeping without a care in the world, like you weren't tied to the mast of the notorious Kid Pirate's ship, and like they hadn't just watched you massacre hundreds of strong men and laugh about it. Not to mention the commodore, that was a whole other bag of worms.

They of course realized you had some sort of devil fruit, and they could guess by your tattered marine uniform that you had at some point been a government dog, but the fact that they'd found you half starved in a dark cell raised a multitude of questions. The government had been careful to move you often, likely to keep you from people like Kid, but you had clearly been discarded by them at some point. Their best guess was that the fruit itself was too dangerous to bring back into circulation, so they'd kept you alive to keep that power from becoming available to anyone else. Killer was also sure that ‘Yin’ wasn't your real name, but that didn't seem of much consequence right now. He guessed you must be close to his age, though it was hard to tell under the layers of grime and blood, your cheeks and eye sockets hollowed from being emaciated.

Neither of them brought up what you'd done to them after the battle, and as soon as it seemed like it had been long enough to not raise suspicions from the crew, they both left the deck to retreat to their rooms, anxious to shower and change into clean clothes.

Day 1

You slept for what you assumed was likely around fifteen hours, it seemed like it was about late afternoon the next day when you were woken by a splash of water on your bare thigh. A cabin boy startled near you as he noticed your head raising, apologising profusely and scampering away with his bucket and mop before you could even register what had happened. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, thankful for the tinting effect of your visor in the bright afternoon sun.

It didn't take long for you to notice the masked blonde sitting across from you, resting against a wall with crossed arms and crossed legs, watching you carefully. You cocked your head at him, and he stood, closing the space between you with just a few long strides, and standing over you. The ominous looming was probably supposed to be intimidating, but you couldn't help but blush at the fact that you were eye level with his dick. You did your best to crane your head to look up at him anyway.

“The captain has some questions for you,” he said plainly. His long blonde hair flitted gently in the wind behind him, and you wondered how a pirate kept so much hair so well maintained.

“Okay…” you mumbled blearily, looking around and noticing a distinct lack of said captain, “is he going to ask them then or…?”

“He's busy,” Killer snapped, “so I'll be asking them”

“Yesh, okay mister grumpy-mask,” you grumbled, pulling up your legs so they were crossed in front of you, “go ahead then”

Killer looked away for a moment to catch the eye of a passing henchman, giving him a quick nod that the man clearly understood. The henchman quickly brought over a chair, positioning it a metre or so in front of you before scurrying away. Killer took a seat and leant back on the chair, crossing his arms and scanning you with his eyes.

“What sort of devil fruit do you have?” was his first question. You weren't surprised, it seemed like the most obvious question.

“Ah, straight into the complicated questions,” you sighed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain it, “it's called the wave-wave fruit. As in, wavelengths. Not like… ocean waves. It's more microscopic than that. How much do you know about physics?”

“Some, enough probably, what sort of wavelengths?” he asked.

“All of them, I think,” you replied, a little confused at your own answer, and quickly working on rephrasing it, “I mean everything I know of that's measured in wavelengths I've been able to manipulate to some degree. Some are harder than others, but I have some control nonetheless. Vibrations are easiest, I can use them at a smaller scale, like molecules, speeding up or slowing the vibrations to increase or decrease temperature. Or at a larger scale, like what you saw me do on the battlefield, creating shockwaves of vibrations”

“And that's what you did to the commodore? Heated and cooled him?” Killer inquired, starting to piece things together.

“His blood, specifically, but yeah. The wall I used to keep us clean was also vibrations, it wasn't actually solid, it's just that the air was vibrating so fast that nothing could get past it. Like a really strong wind.”

Killer nodded, stroking the scruffy goatee that poked out from under his mask. “Okay, so what else? You said there were others.”

“Yeah, the others I don't use as much because they're either more difficult or not as useful. Sound is easy, I can replicate sounds with relative ease. Single sounds like replicating a lone instrument or a voice or animal call are easier than replicating a whole song. Light is tricky but doable. Every colour you see is a different wavelength of light, so by manipulating the wavelength I can change the colours. Not super useful but it makes for a fun lightshow when I'm drunk. Before I was locked up I was working on using it to create mirages of myself, but it's early days for sure.”

To emphasize your point you closed your eyes in concentration, and a life sized version of you appeared in the space between you and Killer. It was faint, and wobbling, like a broken hologram. You weren't able to hold it for long before you let out a heavy exhale and the clone disappeared.

“The last thing I know I can control is electromagnetic waves, but I can only do it at a very small scale,” you continued, “it's enough to manipulate the electricity that sends messages through a person's nerves, but not enough to power anything or manipulate the magnetism of an object”

“Is that… what you did to Kid and I?” Killer asked, under his breath so as not to let any curious henchmen hear.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “sorry about that, but it was in self defence”

Killer made a low grumble under his mask, not offering up any sort of forgiveness in exchange for your apology. At least now he understood what you'd done, it put him slightly more at ease. Not that he was happy about his nerves being messed with. You yawned and rolled your head to stretch out your stiff neck, the questioning was starting to grate at you. Using your fruit to create a mirage when you were already so weak was probably not the smartest thing you’d ever done.

“Is that it? I'm tired,” you grumbled.

“One more and I'll leave you be for now,” he said, leaning forward to examine her closer, “what's with the mask?”

You chuckled to yourself, not at all surprised by the question considering his own mask. “What's with yours?” you retorted.

He sat in silence, unwavering and unimpressed. You rolled your eyes and huffed, it was clear you weren't getting an answer today, so you'd just have to continue making up your own theories about it. Given the state of Kid's horribly scarred face, your best guess right now was that he was unbelievably mangled under the mask. Blown up by a grenade or something. Maybe he didn't even have a nose. You wrinkled your own nose at the thought before deciding to answer his question, if anything to pull your mind away from imagining what awful features he had under his mask.

“Like I said earlier, I can manipulate light and sound,” you started your explanation, pausing for a moment as he sat back in his chair and resumed his previous position, “unfortunately I can also see and hear a larger spectrum because of it. You know how they say mantis shrimp can see more colours than we can? It's like that, I've got shrimp colours. And sounds I guess. Well not shrimp sounds but… you know what I mean. Anyway it sounds fucking cool, but I can tell you right now that constantly being able to hear every atom moving and being able to see everyone's bones and organs is not cool, and I can't control it on my own. It's a default setting that I can't seem to manipulate, and it's extremely overwhelming. If I spend more than a few minutes without the mask I usually have a panic attack. The mask filters it all out so I just see and hear what a normal person would. I can adjust it though, to tune in to different levels of the sound or light spectrum, for example if I need to see if someone has a broken bone, or hear a different frequency.”

“That's why you carried the seastone cuffs after killing the commodore? To mute the ability?”

“Exactly. Seastone deactivates devil fruits, as I assume you know, so I can use it to stop myself from becoming overwhelmed when I don't have the mask. Obviously though, seastone also makes me weak and tired. It's why I'm inseparable from my mask. I'm guessing you understand better than anyone what it means to me,” you said, scanning his striped mask with your pupil-less eyes.

“Hmmph,” he replied neutrally, standing from the chair and dragging it till it rested against a wall, “that'll do for now then, but there's more questions we'd like to ask tomorrow”

“Mmm,” you replied, straightening your legs out and shifting in your spot to get comfortable again. Your arms would have gone to sleep long ago if you hadn't been using your devil fruit to keep the blood flowing in them, “I'm guessing the captain wants to know what intel I have on the marines and world government. You can tell him I'm more than happy to share with him everything I know about those cunts, I have no love or loyalty for them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or whatever it is they say.”

“Right,” he replied, a little taken aback that you were so willing to part with information without even being prompted. ‘They must have really done a number on her’ he thought to himself, “He'll be happy to hear that. I'll have someone bring you water, and I'll be back with more questions tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Massacre Soldier,” you said in her best obedient subordinate voice, before closing your eyes to nap.

“It's Killer,” he replied with a huff, walking away.

Day 2

You woke up at what must have been the middle of the night. It was clear out, the stars were in full display, but you hadn't noticed them yet due to the fact that you were full on hyperventilating after a particularly graphic dream. You'd think someone who enjoyed violence as much as you wouldn't experience bad dreams, but there were other kinds of horrors from your past that plagued you and often woke you in a panic. You went through the familiar motions of calming yourself; five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can smell… Eventually your breathing started to even out and the world came back into view. It was then you noticed the vibrations of the warm body above you. If you concentrated enough you could make out the vague shape, and it was clear they were watching you from the crow's nest above. On night watch, presumably, and distracted by your very audible panic attack.

“You can stop gawking at me now, Killer,” you mumbled without turning to look at him, stretching your legs back out from the fetal position you'd subconsciously pulled them into. The distinct difference in vibrations around his mask made it easy to tell who was watching you.

“You good?” he asked, trying to hide the genuine concern in his voice but you picked up on its subtlety, and it annoyed you to no end. You weren't some feeble thing, and you wondered if he was only treating you with kindness because you were a woman. You had no doubt it was going to be a common struggle aboard the Victoria Punk.

“Just peachy, so fuck off,” you huffed. There was a quiet shifting of fabric as he turned away to give you privacy, returning to watching the still horizon and the small, calm clouds that were settled over it.

Resigning yourself to ignoring him, and titling your eyes to the sky you finally noticed the dazzling scattering of twinkling stars, too far from any island to be hindered by light pollution. Your mask may have had a purple tint, but it didn't apply to your vision like it would if you were wearing sunglasses. Sure, it kept the sun from being too bright by filtering out some of its harsher light waves, but other than that it was a mere filter, allowing you to see the way a normal person would, maybe even slightly better than a normal person. For you, it was no different to wearing clear prescription glasses.

You were certainly far from colourblind, having seen a much wider spectrum of colours than any other person, you could pick up the subtle differences between colours like nobody else could. The faint yellows, blues and reds of the faraway stars were clear to you, each star being a different colour depending on how hot they were. You knew other people could tell the difference, but you could pick out the smallest changes, you could probably guess the exact temperature of each star if you tried based on the colour.

You could also see planets in far more detail than the normal human eye, picking out the quiet blues and warm browns of the different planets that were close enough and in the right position to see. To the naked eye they would have been simple sparkles hidden between the stars. They were still tiny, but the colours were clear to you.

You admired the full display of nature's majesty with wide eyes. It had been years since you'd seen the stars. You would have liked to adjust your mask to see the ultraviolet light, to see the beautiful blues and purples radiating off distant galaxies, but your arms were firmly pinned to the mast. You sighed, deciding to continue stargazing anyway, reminding yourself that you would have all the time in the world to look at the stars under every spectrum of light imaginable as soon as you were done with your time on the mast.

At some point you fell back asleep, lulled by the soft rocking of the ship and Killer's quiet rhythmic breathing above you.

You grumbled and pulled your leg away as someone kicked it, wishing you could rub the sore spot the kick had left but unable to reach with your arms tied. You opened your eyes to find Killer standing over you once again, his leg pulled back to repeat the kick if you didn't wake up. He wasn't doing it hard enough to properly injure, but enough that it'd no doubt leave a bruise on someone like you. Before he could swing you stopped his foot with your own, crossing one leg over the other to press your black, standard issue marine boots against his ankle.

“What the fuck Killer?” you spat, pushing his leg away before returning your foot to the ground, bent at the knee so you could quickly raise it again if you had to.

“About fucking time, fuck you sleep like the dead,” he replied, pulling the chair from yesterday back towards you, leaving it a little further away to account for your stretched out leg before sitting, “and you snore worse than most of the men here.” It was a lie, but he felt like seeing if he could get a rise out of you.

“I do the fuck NOT,” you yelled, trying to slide down in your restraints so you could reach him with your foot to kick him, which resulted in your leg flapping awkwardly in the air mere inches away from him while you made little grunts of excursion. He couldn't help but smile under his mask, you really could be childish, it was amusing, and he would definitely find more ways to rile you up in the future. You could have full well used your devil fruit to maim or kill him, but it was clear you weren't going to hurt him. Finally you gave up and let your leg fall to the wooden deck with a heavy ‘thunk’ and a pout on the only visible part of your face.

“What do you want, Killer?” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“We have more questions,” he replied.

“Of course you do, couldn't it wait till I was awake though?” you grumbled.

“It's almost noon, you've slept more than enough,” he replied in a bored tone.

You looked around, a little confused. Had you really slept that long? The men around you were bustling around, already several hours deep into their various chores, the occasional curious glance thrown your way. You turned back to Killer with a sigh, “Fine, what does our apparently very busy captain want to know today?”

“You knew I was watching you last night, do you have haki?”

“Armament, yes. It's strong, by normal standards, though I barely use it. I'm guessing you're asking specifically about observation haki though. I don't, I can just sense vibrations around me because of my devil fruit. If I concentrate enough I can make out the contours of people, see their faces and expressions, sense if their heart is beating faster if they're lying. Which by the way, I know I don't snore, and you're a filthy liar.” you gave him a coy smile, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning away from you. His heart was racing, and it didn't take a psychic to figure out why.

“I can't see your face,” you reassured softly. His head snapped in your direction and he was starting to wonder if you could read minds, “your mask is solid metal, it's blocking a lot of the vibrations and making them bounce back. All I can sense under it is a blur. It would be the same if I used my mask functions, metal is a good insulator against a lot of types of wavelengths, so it's a bit of a weak spot for me”

His heart rate lowered slightly, his own observation haki telling him you weren't lying about your ability. He cleared his throat, a little flustered that you'd read him and his insecurities so easily.

“Our intel tells us you have ties to Vegapunk,” he said, trying to move the conversation along, “we assumed the weapon, you I guess, were built by him but obviously that's not the case, so where is that information coming from?”

“Oh, that would be the mask,” you explained, “I spent a short while on Egghead Island with a few of his satellites while they ran tests on my fruit and manufactured the mask. As much as the government wanted me to be their weapon, I was useless before the mask. Like I told you yesterday, it's overwhelming. I was always on the edge of a panic attack, struggling to navigate the world. I had to be practically guided everywhere and spoon fed because I was seeing straight through everything, I would always walk into shit and over or under reach for things because I couldn't make out surfaces. Not to mention the sounds. I may as well have been deaf because I couldn't pick out voices between everything else. I was an anxious, over-stimulated mess and completely useless as a weapon, as a person even, so they commissioned Vegapunk to make the mask to help me control it. I often had bouts of being completely feral before the mask, when my brain would finally snap and go completely instinctual just to have any sort of control. A lot of people have bite shaped scars from me”

“What the fuck is a satellite,” Killer asked. Your answer had raised many more questions, but that one confused him the most.

“Ah, kind of a complicated question,” you mused, “they're… Vegapunk? But not? I'm not sure how to explain it. He like, split his personality up into clones or some shit. They don't look like him though, or what I've seen of pictures of him anyway. I've never actually met him”

“Right, okay,” Killer did not at all understand but he figured it didn't really matter anyway, he had more important questions to ask, “how long were you a marine?”

“Another complicated question,” you groaned, “you just love those don't you? Can't you just ask me my favourite colour or something?”

There was an awkward silence while he waited for you to answer the question, before you groaned again and relented. “Finnneeee. And it's yellow, by the way. Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Long version, I've got all day,” he replied.

“Alright then,” you shrugged, or as best you could in the restraints anyway, “it's not like I'm going anywhere. I ate my devil fruit when I was about four. Daddy dearest was never in the picture, it was just me and my mother, so I was left alone for long bouts during the day while she worked, that was when I found it. Obviously it fucked me up, my mum came home one day to find me completely out of it, screaming, feral. She didn't know it was a devil fruit, obviously, so she took me to the hospital. Doctors took months to realise it was a devil fruit and put a seastone cuff on me, but not before I blew a nurse's brains out in my panic. Life went relatively back to normal for a while till the government caught wind of me. Mum kept me hidden away, given what I'd done to the nurse, but kept her eye out for a way to get me off the island so we could start fresh somewhere else. Eventually she was able to save enough money to buy us passage to another island, but the ship was attacked by slavers during the journey.”

You paused for a moment, watching a news coo fly overhead and drop the daily newspaper, something you hadn't seen in a very long time, before continuing on with your story. “I was about six when I was sent to a slave house on Sabaody. The government had tracked my movements and were quick to buy me, and I haven't seen my mother since. They sent me to the marines to be secretly trained, only a select few knew about me. I think the plan was to make me a CP agent, they seemed pretty set on training me for some sort of elite team. Physical training was going fine, I learnt how to fight and how to shoot and how to be stealthy, but every time they took the seastone off though I'd go straight back to being out of control, and eventually they gave up on me. At some point they started abusing me, since I wasn't good for anything else. It was just inappropriate touches at first, and then… well. I'm sure you can put two and two together.” Killer’s mask moved to point away from you, clearly unnerved with the topic, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably before continuing.

“Anyway the government wasn't happy about my lack of progress controlling my fruit, so they shipped me off to Egghead in the hopes that Vegapunk could ‘fix’ me. I had two beautiful, abuse-free years on that island while they made the mask and helped me learn to control my fruit, before the government pulled me back to hell. I spent the next four years training, honing in on my devil fruit, learning haki and moon stepping, learning advanced combat. I was a quick learner, so they put me in active service when I turned sixteen, when it was no longer suspicious for me to be in the marines. I did what they asked like an obedient dog, for a while,, but then they stuck me with a commodore who liked to play with pretty things. The more he abused me, the more I lashed out on the battlefield. At some point I started enjoying killing, using it as an outlet for my anger, and the more blood thirsty I became the less they could control me. Eventually I started killing marines and civilians, so they benched me. They couldn't let my fruit go back in rotation though, so they just kept moving me from base to base to keep me hidden. I must have been twenty when they benched me. I'm not sure how long it's been since then, years definitely, but I'm not sure. Anyway that's it, that's the full story”

It was a lot for Killer to process. Your shit past was somehow worse than his, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for you. He'd been young the first time he killed, but four years old? That was a lot for a kid to carry, not to mention being raped for the first time before even hitting puberty, and so many times since. It was no wonder you were so fucked up, why you laughed so maniacally after killing the commodore, why you enjoyed killing as much as Killer did. He wondered if you'd been branded at the slave house, or when the last time someone had treated you as a human was.

With a heavy exhale he stood, dragging the chair back to the wall without a word, and decided to leave it be for now.

“What, that's it? No snide remarks about being a warm hole or some shit?” you spat. It was clear you were angry, residual anger not really directed at him but at your memories. It sent a shiver down his spine to hear you imply that it was a common occurrence for men to just call you a ‘warm hole’.

“I'll have someone bring your water, we're done for now,” he said flatly as he walked away. You huffed in outward annoyance, but inwardly you wished he hadn't left, so you didn't have to be alone with your own thoughts.

Day 3

Day three was of not much note. You watched the crew do their chores, trying to overhear their names as they talked so you could figure out who was who. Usually around midday some nervous cabin boy would bring you a single glass of water, shaking as he held it to your lips, but to your surprise today it was brought by someone else. Heat knelt in front of you, holding up the glass of water.

“No cabin boy today?” you mused.

“They're scared of you,” he laughed, holding the glass to your mouth so you could drink. You chugged the water greedily, one glass a day was nowhere near enough under the constant sunlight, “apparently they heard about what you did at the marine base, so I offered to bring you your water instead of having to smell them pissing their pants”

You laughed as you swallowed the last bit of water, almost choking on it. “You good?” Heat asked, his eyes were soft with concern but it didn't seem to annoy you as much as it had when Killer had shown sympathy.

“Yeah,” you coughed, “wrong pipe. Anyway, that's fucking hilarious. Cabin boys are just pups, I wouldn't hurt them”

“Yeah good luck convincing them of that, pussies the lot of them,” he laughed, putting down the glass and sitting on the deck in front of you. His pale blue hair billowed in the wind behind him, a tone not too far from your own lilac coloured hair. His face was covered in stitch-like scars that ran from his mouth over his cheeks and his body was lined with tattoos that looked like barbed vines that wrapped around his neck and over his arms, you traced them with your eyes.

“I like your tattoos,” you mused.

“Thanks,” he smiled, somehow still looking sad at the same time, “you got any?”

“Not any by choice,” you frowned, “just a marines tattoo, it's more like a tag of ownership really. And a slave mark, if you can count that”

“We can get them covered, if you want,” he offered, “well I don't think you can tattoo over scars actually, but the marine tat we could cover”

“You think we can turn it into a set of tits?” you gave him a coy smile.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he laughed, standing up, “I should probably go, we're not supposed to talk to you till initiation is done, but I think you're going to fit right in here”

“Thanks Heat,” you replied softly, glad to have had some genuine company, if only for a short while.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as soon as he left. You didn't want to show weakness in front of Heat but a sharp pain was beginning to form in your gut, assumedly from hunger. It didn't feel like your normal hunger pains but then again, you weren't usually tied to a mast. You'd only asked to use the bathroom once since getting here, maybe you were constipated or something. Not that the source of the pain mattered, you still had another four days to go before you were released and you doubted they'd allow you any painkillers till it was over, so you just pulled your knees in as close as you could to put pressure on the dull pain.

Day 4

It was almost noon when Heat came out to the deck to bring you your water. You'd been quiet, as always, save for a few questions Killer had for you about the marines. You'd spent most of the last 24 hours with your knees up at your chest, your head buried between them as the sharp pain continued to grow in your gut.

Heat was in a good mood today, he had high hopes for you as a new crewmate. His conversation with you yesterday had been short, but you were pleasant to talk to, had no problem making crude jokes, and by your work on the battlefield it was clear you were bloodthirsty. You would fit right in here. Three more days, then he could properly get to know you. Not to mention that Kid had said the crew just couldn't touch you ‘without your consent’, that wasn't a full ban, right? If he played his cards right maybe he could score himself a girlfriend. The thought of not having to wait between islands to get laid made him near giddy. Kid hadn't bothered to talk to you since you'd come on board, Killer didn't seem to have any interest outside of the questions he was tasked with asking you, and Wire certainly couldn't care less. The henchmen would probably try their luck, but Heat knew they were far beneath a woman of your calibre. That left you wide open for him to try his hand at wooing you, so he was setting himself up to always try his best to be nice to you. Of course, he preferred women with a little more plush to them, with soft curves and tummies and breasts he could practically sink into, and you were basically a walking bag of bones, but he wondered if in time, with proper nutrition, whether you'd fill out. It didn't make a whole load of difference at the end of the day though, a thin woman was still a better companion than ol’ righty.

He almost dropped the glass he was carrying when he spotted you though, his grin quickly wiped from his face. Your knees were at your chin, as they had been since yesterday, and between your legs was a small puddle of blood, your navy coloured uniform shorts clearly darkened with it. Without hesitation he spun on his heel and ran for the navigation room, where he knew he'd find Kid and Killer.

The two of them were indeed there, along with Wire, scouring over maps of the nearby islands and comparing them to the log pose, trying to figure out their next move now that they were done with the months of run around you had given them. Their heads all shot up as the door flung open, a flustered Heat standing in the doorway, glass of water still in hand (though somewhat empty now, given most of it had spilt out in his hurry).

“What the fucks got your panties in a twist?” Kid grumbled, settling down the map he'd been holding.

“The girl, she's bleeding,” he huffed out between heavy breaths.

Killer was the first to move, shoving Heat out of the doorway so he could pass him, making long, fast strides to the mast where you were bound. Kid followed quickly after, already jumping to conclusions and feeling a rage brewing. The only way in his mind that you could be bleeding is if someone had attacked you, and he would torture everyone on this ship to find out who touched his new toy.

The stampede of heavy footsteps, which slightly vibrated the deck under you, woke you from your nap. You groaned a little, stretching your legs out in front of you, your knees clicking a little at the motion. The pain in your gut had definitely increased since you'd fallen asleep a few hours ago, and you wondered how much worse it was going to get. Any more and you wouldn't be able to keep up the brave face anymore. Your eyes widened in confusion as you watched Kid, Killer and the other commanders racing towards you, and you ran a montage through your mind of everything that you'd done and said since coming aboard to try and figure out what you'd done wrong to piss them off.

“Uh, hello boys?” you offered as they came to an abrupt stop in front of you.

“Heat, where's the blood?” Kid scowled, as far as he could see, you were perfectly fine.

“Uh, under her ass,” Heat replied sheepishly, hoping the others wouldn't take notice of the fact that it meant he'd been looking at your ass.

You lifted your knees in confusion and spread them, trying to look down as best you could with the restraints to see what Heat had seen. Your groin was dark with blood, and a small puddle had formed underneath you. The cogs in your brain immediately clicked into place and you groaned at the inconvenient timing.

“Relax, it's just my period,” you told them, closing your legs again, a little embarrassed. The statement only seemed to anger Kid more.

“Why the fuck would you do that now?” he growled and pointed at the blood with an accusing finger, “you're getting your gross fucking pussy blood on my deck.”

You blinked slowly and looked at Killer, thus far it was clear he was the brains of the operation, definitely not the captain who was entirely brawn, and brawn only. “He's not serious, right?”

Killer ran a hand down his mask and groaned. Kid could be smart sometimes, in his own way, but fuck could he also be dumb as hell, especially when it came to women. Kid knew where to stick his dick, and that was about the limits of his knowledge.

“She didn't do it on purpose,” Killer offered, trying to calm his captain down.

“Like hell she didn't,” he spat back.

“Women don't choose when their period happens, it just happens,” Killer tried to explain with a heavy sigh.

“Well, really, most healthy women know when to expect it, but I haven't had enough nutrition to keep it regular. I really didn't expect it, sorry,” you were trying your best to not be ashamed of this entirely natural thing, and laid your legs back down to hide the blood from Kid who was still staring at you with a confused frown.

“Can't you just hold it in or something at least?” Kid asked with a scowl.

“Not really how it works,” you sighed, “its gonna continue till my entire uterus lining is shed”

“I'm not even going to ask what the fuck you mean by that,” Kid knew a ‘uterus’ was for making babies, right? What kind of fucking horror show was this shit? You had to shed it? The whole lining? What the fuck.

“Do you need something for it?” Killer asked you.

“She's not getting shit. Besides, we don't have any of that girly shit on board,” Kid cut in before you could answer. You groaned and wished you could reach your face so you could pinch the base of your nose, with the headache that was quickly forming.

“Look, you have three options,” you said plainly, “one - you leave me here, I continue bleeding on to the deck, the blood goes rancid, I start to stink like a dead fish, then I get an infection and die. Very cool. Two - you provide me clean, dry rags and let me switch them out every four hours until we reach land, because it's going to take at least another five days to be done. Or three - you let me have a longer bathroom break, I use my devil fruit to hurry it up, I have a quick shower to clean up, and everyone goes on like nothing happened”

Kid scowled, his hands on his hips, staring down at you. His body was casting a shadow over you, and you shivered a little at the lack of warm sunlight - definitely not at how big and intimidating he was from this angle. He thought about the options, but it was clear which one was the most convenient.

“Killer, take her to your bathroom, don't let her out of your sight,” he huffed, before turning and stomping away. Wire followed him, having quickly lost interest, and Heat gave you a sympathetic smile before leaving as well. Killer quickly scanned the small crowd of henchmen and cabin boys that had stopped their chores to watch the commotion, one look from Killer was all it took to clear them off.

Without a word he knelt at the back of the mast, untying the thick ropes that held you. You used the mast to support yourself as you stood, careful to avoid stepping in the blood your unexpectedly heavy flow had left, it wasn't really that much but it would be gross to step in anyway. You ran vibrations through your body to loosen up your stiff joints, stretching your arms out above your head and rolling your sore shoulders with small popping sounds. You looked down at the blood with a flush, then back at Killer, who was quick to notice your embarrassment. He grabbed the collar of a passing cabin boy, who squeaked at the sudden forcefulness.

“Oi, clean this up,” he told the boy, pointing at the blood, before letting him go with a small shove and watching the boy scurry away to find a mop. On the bright side, the Kid Pirates were probably experts at getting blood out of the deck, given their profession. It was probably the first thing new cabin boys were taught.

Killer turned and walked away, annoyed that it was his bathroom being sacrificed, but he wasn't going to go against the captain's orders. At least he knew his room was clean, as it always was. He always kept his room tidy with militant level spotlessness, you could probably eat off any surface in his room. He took great pride in it.

You took the hint and followed close behind him, not sure what to say but thankful you would get your first shower in months. You hadn't had a tour of the ship yet, so you had no choice but to follow behind him, having no idea where the bathroom even was. You hoped they had hot water on this ship but you weren't about to get picky.

You were expecting a grody communal bathroom, something with one of those shower rooms without separations and toilet cubicles with questionable stains on the seats, so you were certainly surprised when you were led to a large, private bedroom. In the middle was a king sized bed, made up with navy sheets and royal blue blankets and pillowcases, the matching set embossed with a diamond pattern that was more matte compared to the shine of the base fabric. A lush, navy, fluffy blanket ran over the end of the bed, folded to form a tidy, decorative strip like something out of a magazine. The bed frame looked to be made out of a dark, ebony wood, and the headboard was ornately engraved with what looked like a battle scene, with the endboard similarly engraved to match. On either side sat a heavy looking side table with matching wood - all of the furniture in the room looked like part of the same, probably very expensive, set.

Hanging on the wall on either side of the bed were brass, antique looking lamps with sharp details that looked like they could injure you if you fell against them. Further out from the lamps were small porthole windows, one on either side of the bed, framed with short, navy, velvet curtains on brass rods. The room also had a large wardrobe to one side, and a short, wide set of drawers on the other, all with brass knobs that matched the side tables. Above the dresser hung an oval mirror, trimmed with an ornate brass frame that matched the lamps. The mirror was cracked and missing shards, like someone had punched it. It seemed out of place in an otherwise immaculately tidy room.

The walls of the room were painted in a calm, pale blue, the lower half shiplapped with dark wood, and on one wall, beside the wardrobe, hung several antique weapons, ranging from katanas to scimitars to daggers, all beautifully crafted and well maintained. There were no other signs of personalization in the room - no trinkets, books, stray laundry - it felt like a hotel room, not somewhere that was lived in full time. Above all, it was not what you expected to find on a pirate ship.

After several moments of gawking from the doorway, Killer gave you a shove further into the room, slamming the door behind the two of you. He strode across the room, opening a door beside the dresser, before sitting on the edge of the bed facing the open door, his arms crossed in displeasure.

“Bathroom is in there, towels under the sink,” he nodded towards the door, “hurry the fuck up, I haven't got all day”

You walked past him hesitantly, into the simple bathroom, and started to close the door, only to be met with an annoyed tut from Killer.

“Door stays open,” he told you flatly.

“Oh come onnnn,” you moaned, “you're really going to sit there and watch me? What kind of fucked up pervert are you?”

“Captain's orders,” he replied with a shrug, “he told me not to take my eyes off you, so that's what I'm doing. Don't make it weird”

“You're the one making it weird,” you mumbled, sliding off your boots, shorts and blood soaked panties down. They were nothing fancy, just boring, standard issue tightey-whiteys. You threw your jacket over the sink and sat down on the toilet the wrong way round, facing the wall, and set a hand to your stomach.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Killer grumbled, “did those marine pigs not teach you how to use a toilet?”

“Mind your business, asshole,” you grumbled, shimmying a little to get comfortable on the seat, “I'm about to strip the lining of an organ, something that should take days, in only a few minutes. Sometimes I pass out from the pain, and I'd rather not go face first into the tile.”

Killer certainly shut the fuck up at your unexpected reply, watching you with anxious concern now. There was an audible vibration as you used your devil fruit, and the trickling of blood hitting the toilet water as your uterus lining began to dislodge. You groaned in pain, white knuckling the toilet tank. Under your mask tears were starting to stream, dripping down your face and landing on the long sleeve of your shirt where you were supporting your weight on the tank. You tried your best not to scream, but it felt like you were being ripped in half as you forcibly shed the lining and contracted your muscles to push it out. Several minutes had passed, interrupted by the occasional heavy splash in the toilet as larger clots of blood exited you, before finally you gave one last grunt and a large splash below announced the bulk of your uterus lining landing in the toilet.

Immediately you passed out, the visor of your mask hitting the wall hard, and Killer rushed to keep you upright as your body began to slide sideways. There was still a quiet trickling below you, and out of morbid curiosity he looked down past your ass into the toilet. It was a bloodbath, scattered with thicker chunks that would have made a normal man gag. He couldn't help but feel sad for you that you had to force yourself to do that. He wondered how many times you'd done it before, you knew you’d pass out so clearly this wasn't your first time.

When he was sure your body was stable against the toilet, he turned away and started to run the bath, one arm still reaching towards you in case you started slipping again. There was no way he was about to let you shower when you'd just passed out, the risk of it happening again and you getting injured in the process was too high, you'd be safer in a bath, even if it wasn't part of the deal. You still weren't awake when he felt the water was deep enough to submerge your lower half, so he lifted you from the toilet and set you down in the water, your shirt getting wet in the process. He wondered whether he should start washing you, but that felt like an intrusion, so he let you be, holding you upright so you wouldn't slip into the water and drown.

Slowly, after five or so minutes, you finally came to. You weren't sure what surprised you more, the fact that you were in a bath, or Killer's arms firmly around you. You gently pushed him away, confused and embarrassed. He stood up quickly, flustered at his own impulsive actions, and grabbed a towel and hand cloth from under the sink, throwing the hand cloth at you unceremoniously and hanging the towel on the hook next to the bath before quickly leaving, closing the door behind him. Not the whole way, but enough to give you privacy.

As soon as you regained your wits you pulled off your shirt, careful to avoid pulling off your mask, and sunk into the water. You would give yourself just a few moments to compose your thoughts before you set yourself to cleaning. You looked around, observing the simple bathroom. It was entirely set with white, from the floors to the walls to the furnishings. There was a simple toilet, a cabinet sink with a mirror above it, not smashed this time, and the combination bath-shower you were currently sitting in, which was deep and wider than a normal tub to accommodate a large body. The only signs that a person used this room were the single toothbrush and toothpaste sitting in a clear, blue glass cup on the sink, and the inset shelf next to the tub, which contained various toiletries.

Careful to not take too long, lest you be dragged out, you carefully cleaned yourself with the handcloth, using a small amount of the body wash that sat perfectly straightened on the shelf next to the bath. The water quickly turned pink as the blood was shifted from your skin, and you took care to pay special attention to between your legs. There would be a few spots of blood left, but not more than what a small wad of toilet paper in your underwear could handle. You were glad too for the warm water which served to soothe your sore abdomen.

Once you were done you pulled the plug, running the water for a moment to wash away any clots of blood that threatened to remain, pushing the swirling water around with your foot. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around you, avoiding the mirror, and trying to decide what to do about dressing. Your pants and underwear were a no-go, there was no way you were putting those back on, and your shirt was soaked from the tub. Only your socks and boots were really usable. You cleared your throat hesitantly to get Killer's attention.

“Killer?” you paused, “can I um.. could I borrow a shirt? And maybe some underwear? Briefs, preferably”

Killer kicked himself for not being more prepared - of course you needed a change of clothes, you couldn't just go back to sitting around in your own blood for another three days. He grumbled and rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of black briefs. He scowled at the idea of you wearing his underwear, but it was better than leaving you exposed on a ship full of men. You were standing in the doorway, wrapped in the towel, when he turned back to you. He shoved the clothes into your arms, pushing you back into the bathroom before sitting back on the bed awkwardly. ‘Fuck Kid and his stupid fucking orders’ he huffed to himself.

You quickly dressed - the shirt was extremely oversized on you, just as you had hoped, it was basically a dress. The briefs barely stayed up, but they would do to hold the small wad of neatly folded toilet paper against your center. You bundled up your wet, dirty clothes in your arms, not sure what to do with them, before exiting the bathroom.

Killer stood as you entered, observing how his shirt came midway down your calves. Till now you'd been fairly covered, but now he noticed how thin your arms and legs were, and the gentle scattering of lilac freckles that covered them, matching your hair. On your left arm, barely visible below the sleeve of the oversized shirt, was a marines tattoo. It was clear too that your wrists bore now healing rings of injury from your many years wearing seastone cuffs. They looked red and tender, but thankfully not infected.

“Um, I'm not sure what to do with these,” you said quietly, interrupting his silent examination of you.

“Give em here,” he said, taking them from you, “we'll burn them when you're done with your initiation, its tradition for ex-marines who become pirates”

“Oh, okay,” you replied, a little hopeful. Burning them sounded cathartic. Fun, even. There was a short, awkward silence before Killer cleared his throat.

“Back to the mast, then,” he said, dumping the clothes in a laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom and walking back out to where the main deck was. You followed obediently, albeit still a little sore from what you'd just done, but it was better than drawing it out or dealing with it while you were still tied to the mast.

Day 5

By the time your bathroom break came around the next day, your period was more than over with, the last few straggler drops flushed down the toilet with the wad of toilet paper you’d kept in your briefs. Well, Killer's briefs. The weather so far had been warm and pleasant, but not overly hot, since the calm spring weather from the marine base island had extended most of the way into the journey so far. Today though, the winds were shifting, turning cooler and harsher as they entered the radius of an autumn island. In hindsight, not asking Killer for pants was probably a mistake, but it was too late now. Your legs were bare to the wind, and you did your best to hold down the oversized shirt with your pinned hands to keep the wandering eyes of the crew from seeing too much. You weren’t usually shy, but the near constant attention was starting to become a bit much, and you were feeling a lot like a piece of meat dangling on a string in front of a pack of hungry wolves. You hoped the next island was close so the men could vent their frustrations on land instead of gawking at you.

Heat brought you water around noon as always, apologising profusely for overreacting yesterday. His concern was sweet, he genuinely thought you’d been hurt and it was nice to feel cared for, you couldn’t remember the last time someone had given a shit about you being hurt. Heat seemed like a nice guy, past that perpetually sad exterior, someone you could grow to trust here, definitely. Maybe even a friend. That would be nice, you hadn’t had friends since Egghead Island. You rubbed your nose against the soft, thick collar of your puffy jacket. Atlas, one of Vegapunk’s satellites, had gotten you the jacket as a leaving gift; it was one of your only possessions, one of the few things in this world you cared about. Somehow, even after all this time, it still looked and felt like new - one of the Vegapunk wonders, you guessed. You were especially thankful for it now as the wind began to chill you to the bone. You could use your devil fruit to warm yourself, but you were conserving your energy for now, since it looked like it was going to rain soon, and you’d need your limited energy more to shield yourself from it. For now, you would grin and bear it, watching the dark clouds slowly growing on the horizon ahead.

Day 6

As predicted, it began to bucket down shortly before sunrise. Killer was woken up by the thunderous sound of hail pelting against his windows, and sat up with a tired grumble, running a hand through his messy blonde bangs. It was cold, even by his standards, and he worried about you out on the deck in nothing but a thin shirt and a jacket. You were a scrawny thing, the cold probably ran right through you. Fair was fair though, you’d been warned you wouldn’t be released from the mast if a storm hit, but he wondered how mad Kid would be if his new toy died of hypothermia. With a sigh he stood up, pulling a spare blanket from the wardrobe. It was a thick wool, scratchy to the touch, but it would act as a decent barrier against the wet weather, given wool's natural hydrophobic properties. He threw on a jacket and his mask before heading out, pulling up the hood to keep the water from trickling in the holes of his mask, he fucking hated when that happened.

He wasn’t surprised to find you awake on the deck, he doubted anyone could sleep in these conditions, but he was surprised to find you completely dry. Shivering from the cold, but shielded by a small protective wall of vibrations, forming what looked like an invisible umbrella over you. You looked tired, the bags under your eyes were dark and deep, you were putting all of what little energy you had into keeping yourself dry. Your head perked up as he approached, walking slightly bent to try and keep the blanket and himself dry at the near horizontal rain.

Neither of you said a word as he looped the blanket over your shoulders, covering your head to form a makeshift hood and letting the rest pool over your front to protect your exposed legs, which were pulled up to your chest in an effort to keep yourself warm. You released the shield with a heavy exhale, nuzzling your head into the blanket and getting comfortable as your shivering finally started to come under control. The blanket was extremely insulating, and you used what tiny energy you had left to warm yourself up a little before trying to fall asleep, exhausted from using your powers for the last several hours. Content that you would be dry and warm enough, he let you be, hoping Kid wouldn’t be too mad at him in the morning when he discovered the blanket.

The rain and hail lasted the better part of the day, but thanks to the thick wool you stayed safe and dry, cocooned in the blanket. It smelled a little like musk and something spicy, a cinnamon scented shampoo maybe, and you wondered if it was Killer’s scent you were smelling on the fabric. Kid was quick to take it away as soon as the rain stopped, but otherwise didn’t reprimand Killer - he was right, Kid would be pissed if his new toy had died from exposure.

Day 7

You were downright giddy when Heat didn’t come to you with a glass of water on the seventh day, instead coming with empty hands to untie you. You squirmed excitedly as he worked at the tight knots, and when they finally released you immediately sprung up, then just as quickly fell back down, face planting right into the deck.

“Fuck, calm down girl, freedom ain’t going anywhere,” Heat laughed, pulling you up to your feet.

“Sorry,” you grinned, rubbing your sore nose under the mask where it had collided with the visor, “just excited. It's been a long time since I had any free will”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Heat smiled as he hooked your arm around his, leading you like an old fashioned gentleman would, “come on, lets get some food in you, then I’ll give you the tour”

“I thought Kid would be the one to release me, or Killer even,” you mused.

“Usually with a new crewmate Kid would, but we’re due to reach land with a town tomorrow,” he explained, “everyone's busy finalising plans and stock lists”

“Not you though?” you asked curiously. He was a commander after all, surely he was privy to important plan making.

“Nah,” he laughed, poking you in the side playfully, “I get to skip school to hang out with your cute ass”

“Oh, you think I’m cute do you?” you giggled, skipping ahead and posing, sticking your non-existent butt out a little and holding a finger to your chin in a coy fashion.

“You’d be cuter if you weren’t so damn skinny,” he replied, motioning to you body. You pouted and came back to his side, hooking your arm back around his and letting him lead again. “You’re nothing but skin and bones, those marine cunts really fed you crumbs huh?”

“Yeah, crumbs would be too much by their standards,” you frowned.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he promised, holding open the galley door for you and letting you pass him, before hooking your arm again and leading you over to where the henchmen on cooking duty had spread out the lunch options, “Kid keeps us well fed, you can’t maintain muscle without decent intake. Grab whatever you want”

He handed you a metal tray and grabbed his own, sliding it along the cafeteria style tray slide and grabbing several items. You observed the spread with hungry eyes, your mouth almost watering, before picking out a bowl of a hearty looking stew, several slices of thick bread, and a small slice of chocolate cake. Towards the end of the tray slide was a fridge with glass doors, and he pulled out two beers, offering one to you. You gave a little enthusiastic nod and he placed it on your tray before picking up both his tray and yours and carrying them to a slightly raised area. It was almost like a stage, with a single heavy mahogany table sitting across it, perpendicular to the rest of the room, surrounded by three matching chairs on either long side, and one particularly throne-like chair at one end facing the bulk of the room. The stage was awkwardly empty on either side of the table, with just a few decorative standing candelabras on it, made of delicate swirls of black metal. The rest of the galley had plain, utilitarian metal tables with attached benches, with henchmen and cabin boys spread out across them in small cliques as they ate. It seemed like the raised table was for the top dogs, and Heat placed your tray down to the left of the throne.

“Kid wants you to sit here for your meals, don’t forget it,” he told you, placing his tray down next to yours and sitting to eat. You slid into your assigned seat and started shovelling food into your face in what could only be described as an extremely unladylike fashion, and Heat laughed to himself as he watched you tear the bread and dip it in the stew, using it like a spoon, before letting out a somewhat impressive burp that had the rest of the room turn and stare in surprise. ‘Yeah, she’ll fit right in here’ he thought to himself in amusement.

You were on your second tray of food when Kid, Killer and Wire finally arrived. Kid settled into his throne, and Killer sat at his right hand, directly across from you. A henchman hurriedly placed trays of food in front of each of them, while Wire served himself and sat down next to Killer. You didn’t slow down your eating when they arrived, and they watched you with morbid fascination as you tore into a drumstick of thick meat, the juices splashing on your visor, before chugging half a bottle of beer and slamming it down, going straight back to the meat. You took notice though of Killer’s straw in his drink, and the way he cut his food into small portions so he could slide them under his mask, surprised that he didn't remove the mask even for meals.

When you were full and content, your second set of plates practically licked clean, you leaned back against your chair and sighed sleepily, patting your bloated tummy. Kid watched you with an amused smile as he ripped into his own drumstick of meat, his sharp canines making quick work of it.

“Feel better?” he laughed. You replied with a bleary nod and a quiet, happy hum.

“We’re hitting land tomorrow, Heat will take you in to town to grab whatever you need to get yourself setup here,” Kid told you, switching from his meat to his beer, “we’ll have a bonfire tomorrow night for you to burn your shit”

“Yay, shopping date with Heat!” you yelled, smacking him over the shoulder with surprising strength.

“Alright, don’t go too fucking crazy,” Kid grumbled, “whatever you spend is coming out of your share of future loot, I’m not your sugar daddy”

“That’s a shame,” you toyed, “I would have made such a good sugar baby”

Heat almost choked on his drink and started hitting himself in the chest with a closed fist to clear the blockage, and Kid shot him an unimpressed look. “I think Heat wants the position,” Wire noted.

“I’m sure Heat wants plenty of positions,” Kid laughed. To his surprise, you laughed too at the crude joke, which only made Kid laugh harder since it was all at Heat’s expense. The man in question was now blushing a bright pink, and doing his best to hide under his long blue hair.

“Aw, don’t pick on my poor, sweet Heat,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around Heat’s shoulders and nuzzling him, which only made him flush redder, “besides, he’s the only lucky one who's going to get me help pick out panties. Though I do take requests. A red lace number for you, Captain? Something blue for Killer? Maybe a classy chocolate brown set for Wire? What do you think Heat, what colour panties will suit me best? Ohh I could get a mixed pack of granny knickers for the henchmen!”

Kid was fully roaring with laughter now, and even Killer’s shoulders were moving up and down with a silent chuckle as they all laughed at Heat’s bright red face.

“Man, if I’d known a chick would be Heat’s weakness I would have brought one on board ages ago” Kid barked.

“Alright, very funny, are you done eating?” Heat huffed, pointing at your empty tray, “I have shit to do after showing you around”

“Aww Heatie baby don’t be like that,” you purred, standing up and giving him a hug around the shoulders from behind, shaking him side to side, which he allowed like a ragdoll, “come give me your grand tour then”

Heat grumbled and stood up, and you, still hugging him around the shoulders, committed to the bit and dangled down his back. He was significantly taller than you, so you were far from touching the floor. He shrugged his shoulders a few times to try and get you off, but when you didn't budge he decided to just accept his fate, stacking the empty plates and cutlery from your tray on top of his and carrying the collective pile to the serving counter for the cabin boys to clean. You barely weighed anything, so for Heat it was like wearing a backpack full of feathers. Kid continued to roar with laughter as the two of you left, giggling as you continued to dangle, half hidden against Heat's long blue hair, while Wire shouted at the two of you to use protection.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

52 notes · View notes