#how he was the one who managed to snap mob out of his trance during mogami's arc

[biscoitocraft]

So now that the last season finished airing can we all agree that Dimple is one of the most important characters in MP100?

[realcube]

LEAVING MIDORIYA

part one (nsfw) | part two 

tw// mentions of toxic relationships, drinking & mention of a bombing

honestly, if you were given enough time you probably could’ve figured it out on your own — without the assistance of a psychiatrist — but exactly one appointment later, you were left with the disheartening realisation that you weren’t having ‘bad dreams’ and the marks on your body weren’t inflicted by yourself during slumber. eventually, the fact set in that it was your sweet, gentle fiancée who was the cause of all these things. 

this whole time, you were under the impression that you were the problem, that there was a malicious part of you that wanted to paint deku out to be some sort of villain; and now you were finally made aware that a villain is exactly what he is. 

it was a hard conclusion to come to but the initial wave of relief you felt was enough to make you act on it quickly, as the more you waited around and let the fact sink in, the more you doubted whether or not to take action. but reasoning isn’t what you need right now, you just need to get away from him. 

where will you go? you had no idea, but any where away from him is good enough. 

midoriya didn’t even get enough time to try fill your head with even more lies. you came marching into the apartment with the intention of ignoring everything he says and simply pack your stuff so you can leave. no matter how much he screamed, begged or yelled, it was like trying to hold a conversation with a brick wall hence he eventually gave in, leaving you to collect your things in peace as there was clearly no way he was going to get through to you. 

you left without another word — not even a goodbye — and you were sure to sneak your engagement ring out with you. although it made you sick to look at, realistically you might need the cash since as soon as you stepped outside your shared apartment with your shit in bags, you were officially homeless. 

no need to worry though, you had arranged to stay the night at a friend’s house until tomorrow morning, then you could catch the train to your parent’s. from there, you’d stay with them until you manage to find a new apartment within your price range. 

one problem; your friend just texted you saying that they have to retract their offer because their landlord doesn’t allow over two people to sleep in the same dorm, and they already have a roommate. very unfortunate but hey, what can you do? plus, they apologised and offered to pay for your hotel but you reassured them that their money wouldn’t be necessary. 

now sitting outside your old apartment complex, scrolling through your phone looking for the nearest hotel. since both you and deku were well-paid pro-heroes and bought a penthouse in a rather affluent area, it was no surprise that most of the hotels that were reasonably close were from 4-5 stars.

although a 5-star hotel room for one night really wasn’t necessary, the post-breakup adrenaline was telling you otherwise. it also told you that treating yourself to a shopping spree, getting wine drunk at a bar and then shuffling back to the hotel with mcdonald’s take-out was a great idea! 

those emotional discussions you had with complete strangers must’ve really gotten to you because when you opened your front camera to take some pictures, you immediately grimaced at the sight of your mascara staining your cheeks. you were lazing around in the hotel lobby surrounded by name brand gift bags — waiting for your room key — looking like that? how embarrassing. 

quickly wiping away your tears, you put on a pair of designer sunglasses you brought earlier to shield your smudged eye-makeup from the world. not that you cared what anyone in this damn lobby thought of you anyway, you were only going to be here for one night, after that you would never see most of these people again. or at least, that is what you thought.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw flashing lights which prompted you to take out your earbuds but once you did, you instantly regretted it as all you heard was screaming and yelling from the entrance. looking up, you noticed an average-looking guy wearing a skull tank top resembling the fashion sense of a middle schooler, being followed by a mob of screaming fans, paparazzi and gossip channel reporters. 

“dynamight! thank you for everything!”

“you deserve to be number one!” 

“we are here at scene, pro-hero dynamight has just been seen entering what appears to be his five star accommodation, wearing his signature blac--”

the loud noises were suddenly muffled as the doorman shut the entrance behind him, leaving things just as they were, except now there was a muscular blond man encircled by bodyguards staring daggers at you.

in any other situation, you would’ve just tried your best to ignore him but some of that liquid courage was beginning to get to you, so your reaction was to snarl right back at him, yelling across the hall, “take a picture, why don’t ya? it’ll last longer.”

only upon processing your reply did the man finally snap out of his trance and storm up to, being hastily followed by his guards who looked as though they were ready to throw down at any given moment, so of course you cowered back in your seat, apologies waiting on the tip of your tongue, ready to spill until his face was hovering centimetres away from yours. 

your throat ran dry at his unexpected action, your eyes scanning over his chiselled features through the tint of your glasses. in a turn of events, you were now the one speechlessly staring at him. then, a deep chuckle erupted from his throat, causing the shock to show on your expression. 

“i knew i recognised you! you’re stupid deku’s girlfriend- fiancée or whatever; i saw the invite for your wedding in my mail and i just got a look at your face before i threw it away. small world.” the blond continued to laugh, talking to you as if you were an old friend of his despite the fact you’ve never seen him before in your life, “anyway, you like a hot fuckin’ mess. where’s deku?” 

why was he talking to you so casually? and how dare he say that!

“first of all,” you started, peering over your glasses to gaze at his face without the rose tint but to no avail, you still had no idea who this man is. using the soles of your palm, you pushed him away by the shoulders as he was a bit too close for comfort, but that resulted in all his guard looking at you with murderous glints in their eyes. “deku and i broke up--”

“when?” he cut you off

“let me finish.” you glared at him, fixing your sunglasses, “we broke up this morning. secondly, who the fuck are you?”

the man looked like he was ready to burst out laughing once again until he had a visible realisation, “eh, well, we’ve never met before but i’m sure deku has told you about me. if not, you’ve probably seen me in the news; i saved around a thousa--”

“no, i’ve not watched the news for, like, the past six months.” this time, you cut him off with a mischievous smirk which you tried your best to conceal.

“bitch! let me fuckin’ finish!” he barked, then had a sudden change in demeanour as he let out a sigh, momentarily silent as he scanned the surrounding area, “i’m bakugo. kastuki.”

your reply of a blank stare spoke a thousand words.

“y’know, dynamight.”

who?

“the number two hero!”

nothing.

“the one who saved that whole airline from blowing up just a week ago! c’mon, it was all over the fuckin’ news!”

“you look like a hotter version of my old maths teacher. oh, and i’m (y/n) (l/n).” was the only verbal response he was able to get out of you, even after all his explaining.

“why do you i feel like you are sayin’ that just to piss me off?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth, followed by a sharp inhale which you assumed was an attempt to calm himself down. his carnelian eyes darted around the room, halting once he raised his arm to view his watch. his brows knitted together as he read the time, forming a concentrated look which was short-lived as his face was quick to relax, emphasised by a slight shrug as if to say ‘i’ve got time’, before slumping down on the couch next to you. 

“so why did you and shitty deku break up?”

“i may be a bit tipsy but i’m not just gonna tell that sorta stuff to a complete stranger.” each syllable felt like it had to be forced out one at a time, but you’d rather that than slur you speech as bakugo seemed like the type to poke fun at you for it. 

“i just wanna know how badly he fucked up this time.” bakugo smirked, propping his elbow up on the back of the couch to turn and look at you, “eh, i don’t think we’ll be strangers for long.” 

there was a certain purr in this voice which sent blood rushing to your cheeks as you never expect someone like him to come on so strong. not that you were complaining, i mean, being in his presence during a time like this felt like a gift from god but you weren’t going to let him know that. it’d only add to his already massive ego so you decided to ignore his suggestive behaviour, opting to show disinterest instead, “hm, you think?”

it was almost comical how fast bakugo’s cocky smirk fell into a frown. honestly, he wasn’t used to people that he flirts with rejecting him, considering that he rarely ever makes moves on anyone. so, now what did he do? due to the foreign nature of this situation, bakugo felt as though he was left with no choice but to bargain, since he’s far from a quitter, “oi, what that supposed to mean?”

you shrug.

bakugo clicked his tongue along with a roll of his eyes before he said, “how ‘bout this; i pay for your room tonight and in exchange we can get to know each other tomorrow.”

“i can pay for my own room though.” 

bakugo deadpanned, he honestly thought he had won but apparently not. perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to hit on someone who had just gotten out of a relationship but whatever. “you’re impossible.” he spat, getting up from the couch and marching away, presumably to his room.

he tried to brush off the encounter like it never happened, reassuring himself that he didn’t have to think much of it as he could get with anyone else. plus, you’d probably come crawling back to him, begging to fuck once you get over deku anyway. 

and he was half right.

eventually, you came to the realisation that both you and bakugo have one thing in common — a hatred for deku. and as it turns out, hatred provides a good groundwork for friendship. 

[forgottenpasta]

Baby, You’re Bad | 01

Summary: A drunken, pre-debut mistake comes back to haunt Yoongi when years later you turn up pregnant from the sperm he donated when he was a broke, underground rapper. idol!au, pregnant!reader.

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 9.5k

Warnings: overuse of the word sperm lol; graphic depiction of artificial insemination; this is an asshole!Yoongi au; Suga when he was Gloss; use of real-life instances for plot purposes; idk some people might not like that.

“Are you ready, Miss___?

No. Yes. No. 

Maybe the fertility medication they had you on was making you illogically sentimental, but you felt like bawling your eyes out. 

The thin pen-shaped catheter in the doctor’s gloved hands epitomized everything you’d ever wanted. Third time’s the charm, they say. God, you hoped so. 

You nodded a little too vigorously. “Yes, please.”

The kind nurse who’d been assigned to you since the beginning of your treatment chuckled from beside the ultrasound machine. If the doctor was amused at your enthusiasm, she didn’t let it show. She bent her head between your stirruped legs. 

You were beyond any kind of embarrassment now, no stranger to a doctor tinkering with your vagina to get you pregnant. This was your third IUI. If you could, you’d shout it from the rooftops. If climbing the Everest and planting a flag at the summit that said “I want a fucking child!” got you pregnant, you would. If could just blast off to space—

“This might feel a little uncomfortable.”, the doctor, Kim Yeri, warned, adjusting the speculum wedged down there.

“I know.” 

The nurse gave you an encouraging smile and a thumbs-up as she mouthed “Fighting!”. Feebly, you smiled back. In a moment of weakness, you’d spilled all your world woes to her when you’d come for the initial check-up. After two previous failed Intra Uterine Insemination attempts at two different clinics, you had been feeling like the most barren woman on the planet, despite the doctors assuring you that it wasn’t your uterus that was the problem, but “you know sometimes these things just don’t work, it’s all luck and probability.” 

Your bank balance wasn’t surviving on luck and probability though, it was suffering. Your money wasted on absolutely nothing, nada, nothing coming out of your vagina in the next nine months except more periods. You’d started to hate the sight of your own blood, associating with it the feeling of disappointment at your empty womb. 

You twitched slightly as the catheter entered you, willing yourself to not clench your pelvic muscles as the doctor had instructed. 

Ever since you could remember, you had wanted to be a mother. You absolutely adored children, lived for them. Literally. Your job as a children’s fiction writer wasn’t something that just happened, you had decided what you wanted to be during the summer vacation of junior year in high school, when all your aunts would leave you with their children as they went off golfing. That’s when you discovered that you had a special talent with mini people. You could spin intricate, sometimes nonsensical stories that put them in a trance and into a deep sleep in record time. Stories about princesses who turned into pirates, a little mouse’s adventures on other planets, a talking pebble who wanted to be a diamond and so much more. Kids loved you, even days old infants seemed to like being in your presence (their mothers’ words not yours). 

But as much as you couldn’t even dream about being anything else, writing children’s stories was hardly as lucrative as being a doctor or a lawyer. You did good enough for yourself but your job couldn’t support repeated attempts at artificially induced pregnancy. 

As the catheter breached your cervix, you closed your eyes and relaxed back into the examination chair. This was it. If it didn’t work out this time, you didn’t know what you’d do.

Try the traditional method like everyone else.

Internally, you snorted at the thought. One side effect of wanting your own child in your mid to late twenties, no potential partner ever saw eye to eye with you. Men didn’t want to be saddled down with a child this early. Your own pickiness with partners could also be blamed. You weren’t into men who weren’t good with children. One of your ex-boyfriends once scolded a 11-year-old kid for loitering around his new bike, checking it out. The next day you’d dumped him via text. 

Suffice it to say, at twenty-seven you were painfully single and the prospects of a serious relationship in your near future looked as microscopic as the sperm being currently inserted inside you. 

Looking down your hospital gown-clad body, you noted the transparent tube pumping “washed” cryopreserved and thawed semen into you. The clinic where you’d went for your first IUI had explained the procedure. The preserved donor sperm was “washed” off any impurities and chemicals to ensure maximum sperm count per mL. 

As the cloudy liquid travelled down the tube, you briefly wondered about it’s origins. When you were filling the form for donor specificities, Dr. Kim had presented you with the options of having sperm that could result in potential desired characteristics for your child. Such as a donor with green eyes or dimples or tall height or even a specific race. The whole talk had left a weird taste in your mouth and you had quickly dismissed it, writing only ‘healthy’ on the form. This wasn’t a pre-order and you’d love your child no matter how they turned out. 

Now, you let your mind wander off to the unknown person who’s child you would potentially (hopefully) bear. What were they doing right now? What did they look like? Did they have any idea they were likely about to have a biological child out there? You shook your head, anonymous donors sold their semen for money, they probably already had many children out there from women like you or infertile couples. You could never understand how a parent was comfortable knowing there was a child out there who would never know them, but you weren’t about to criticise someone you were directly profiting off of. 

“All done.” Dr. Kim smiled as she sat up straight, slowly pulling the tube out of you and placing it on the tray the nurse held out. 

“Do you think this might be it?” There was a slight wobble in your words. 

Damn hormonal drugs. 

Dr. Kim gave you the signature neutral yet evasive and unintentionally condescending smile all doctors seemed to master when their patients asked hopeful questions with no right answers. 

“If everything goes well from here on out, I can’t imagine why this shouldn’t be it. You have to take care of yourself and keep us informed about any changes in your body. I’m scheduling a check-up in two weeks. But you can take an at-home pregnancy test before that if you miss your period and feel like you might be pregnant.”, she explained, pulling out the speculum as well.

You stayed put, knowing from previous experience that keeping your pelvis horizontal for a few minutes was recommended after insemination. 

“Okay, thank you, Dr. Kim.” You smiled your gratitude at the cheerful nurse too.

“Good luck, Miss __. I’ll see you soon, hopefully with good news.”

Afterward, when you slowly made your way to your car in the clinic’s parking lot, you couldn’t help but caress your stomach. A tender, optimistic gesture. This had to be it. Having a child of your own was everything you’d ever wanted, the dream of being a mother one of the goals you had always been steadfast on. A dream which might finally be coming true. 

~•~•~

“What a nightmare.”

Yoongi’s hushed words seemed loud in the silent SUV. A complete contrast to the din and clamour outside. The car was inching at a snail’s pace, wading through a mob of fans gathered outside Charles De Gaulle. After landing, their private jet had taxied close to the VIP exit and they had left feeling like this might be a rare hassle-free entry into another country. But somehow, someone had been tipped about the cars they were leaving in and a horde of fans had greeted them as soon as they merged into the main exit outside the airport. 

“Shut up, they’re endearing.”, Taehyung griped, peering out the window when some armys started doing fanchants. “A little cringy, yeah, but cute.”

A loud thud against Yoongi’s side of the car made Taehyung and Hoseok flinch, snapping their gazes towards their hyung. In the push and pull outside, someone had toppled against Yoongi’s car door. 

The rapper cursed under his breath, immediately switching to an expression of indifference when phone cameras flashed too close, making him squint. He had thrown his face mask in his handbag and shoved it in the trunk and now he regretted it. The damn car didn’t even have tinted windows. Their jet lagged, irritated faces were going to be headlines in a matter of minutes. 

Ahead of them, the SUV Jeongguk, Namjoon, Seokjin and Jimin were in wasn’t faring any better, a swarm of fans surrounding it like bees to honey. 

Yoongi turned away from the window so they couldn’t read his mouth. “Cute, my ass. Where the fuck is the airport security? Someone’s gonna get hurt out there.”

As if on cue, three blue cars with the words Gendarmerie and flashing sirens atop haul in on the side road in a queue, the officers jumping out to contain the mob. As the fans start to disperse under harshly shouted commands, one girl pressed her hand to Yoongi’s window, gawking down at him with tears in her eyes, showing no signs of moving. 

Yoongi gave her a small smile, reaching up to align his palm with hers through the glass. Cameras flash wildly as he observed the girl hyperventilate. Soon enough the officers clad in dark blue manage to push back the crowd and the cars surge forward. The girl’s hand slipped away from the window and the rapper didn’t look back as he sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the headrest.

Their motorcade sped down the freeway in a line, heading to the Peninsula, Paris. 

His phone buzzed once in his pocket, but Yoongi didn’t care to check it, didn’t even open his eyes. 

“You shouldn’t nap right now, hyung. You’ll feel more tired when we leave for the magazine shoot as soon as we reach the hotel.”, Hoseok advised, not looking up from his own phone. 

“I don’t care. I’ll nap at the shoot too, they can take my photos with my eyes fucking closed. Nobody told them to schedule the shoot as soon we step foot in Paris.”

“Our management did.”, Taehyung supplied helpfully. 

Yoongi snorted. “Of course they did. When do they ever let us breathe.”

Their manager in the front seat cleared his throat. “I’ll be sure to relay that to the higher ups.”

“Thanks.”, Yoongi replied dryly. 

When they reach their hotel, the SUVs parked in the basement. Their keycards were quickly handed to them as they bypassed the front reception, to the private elevators straight to their rooms. Two master suites with connecting doors, four bedrooms in total. As usual, they Rock Paper Scissor it and Yoongi got to room with Namjoon. And as usual the lucky maknae won, sauntering to his room with a smug grin on his face. 

“You have half an hour to freshen up, we have to reach the magazine’s studio at 3 sharp.”, Sejin informed after them. 

Namjoon sprawled on the king sized bed when Yoongi called dibs on the shower, shucking his clothes haphazardly and placing his phone on the ornate bedside cabinet. 

His mind was blissfully blank when he stepped inside the walk-in shower, the control panel allowing him to set the perfect temperature and pressure. Because this was routine, getting to the hotel just to jet off somewhere else, his mind was on autopilot, his body long since adapted to the requirements of someone always on the move. Although he complained and grouched, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing. Couldn’t. This was what kept them at the top. 

He was out of the shower in five minutes, toweling his hair dry as he stepped inside the room naked. Namjoon didn’t even blink at him, they had been living together for the better part of a decade now, they’d seen all there was to see of each other. 

The leader stretched out his long limbs languidly, getting up sluggishly to head to the en-suite. “Your phone’s been buzzing.”

Yoongi wrapped the towel around his waist, snatching up his phone to rove a cursory glance over the notifications. He was about to throw his phone atop the bed, dismissing the vague emails, when something stops him short. He peers down at the sender’s address. 

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre. 

What?

He unlocks his phone, thoroughly confused. This was his personal phone and he only got personal emails on it.

When the email expanded to full screen, he realised something. It wasn’t send to his current email address, but the one he used to use pre-debut, the one he’d made in high school. The one which fell into disuse after they had to change all their contact information due to privacy reasons. He didn’t even remember it syncing up through all his phone changes over the years, he never got notifications from it anymore. And sure enough, the last email of import send to him on this address was from five years ago. The spam folder was full though. 

He opened the weird email again, finally deeming to read it. It was succinct, to the point.

Dear donor,

Thank you for your donation dated 2011/03/09. It has been successfully utilised to make our client’s parenthood dreams come true. You are eligible for another donation, please contact us if interested. 

Regards

Sperm Bank Office

Ajeevan Fertility & Gyne Centre

**This is an automated message, please do not reply.**

Yoongi’s eyes burned a hole where the phone displayed the date. 2011/03/09. His eighteenth birthday. He took in a shuddering breath.

No no no no no. 

Without conscious thought, he plopped down on the bed, his knees going weak. His heart beat spiked to triathlon levels. Putting the phone face down on the table, he rested his elbows on his towel draped thighs, head in his hands.

He had to think. But there was nothing but static in his jumbled brain, which was still trying to catch up to the implications of the email. 

They made a mistake. They must have. I refunded the money. I told them I didn’t want it used. 

But the date. 

“You’re still not dressed. It’s almost time.”

Yoongi almost had a heart attack at Namjoon’s abrupt voice. “Fuck, dude. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

Namjoon’s frowned. He took out a pair of jeans from his bag, pulling them on as he eyed the other rapper. “I’ve been out here for a few minutes. What’s got you so lost?”

Yoongi didn’t answer. He wasn’t lost, he was on the verge of a full blown panic attack at even the minuscule possibility of a stupid teenage mistake coming full circle to end his life as he knows it. 

“Hyung.” Namjoon came forward, now genuinely worried, jeans riding low on his shirtless torso. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

Yoongi had only told one person about the time when he’d hit rock bottom in his life. Namjoon was not him. 

“Can you get Jin hyung for me, Namjoon-ah?”, he asked, his words clear and coherent despite the chaos inside his mind. 

The leader didn’t question it, just got up to do as asked, plucking out a shirt along the way. 

A few minutes later, Jin poked his head inside, immediately entering and closing door at Yoongi’s pensive countenance. He raised a brow at the younger.

Yoongi held out his phone. 

Jin took it, seating himself on the bed as well. 

A few beats passed. 

Jin exploded. “What the hell?! Yoongi?! Is this saying what I think it’s saying?!”

Yoongi ran a tired hand down his face. “ I gave them their money back. Explicitly told them I wanted my sperm thrown in the trash.” The anger which had been slowly simmering, now bubbles to the surface. “What the fuck is this, hyung? I don’t even recognise the name of the clinic. What the fuck did they do with it?”

Jin bit his lip, confused. “What was the name of the place you donated to?”

“I don’t even remember, but it definitely wasn’t that. I should have known they were shady as fuck when they refused to return my sample.”

Jin was surprised. “Yeah, that should have raised several red flags, Yoongi.”

“I was eighteen.”, Yoongi growled. “I was stupid as fuck. Shit, I agreed to donate sperm because my bank balance was riding the negatives, what does that tell you?”

“That you were desperate.”, Jin shrugged. 

“Yes but not knowingly-having-a-kid-out-in-the-world desperate!”, Yoongi was freaking out. “I realised I didn’t have the moral consonance to have a kid I didn’t know and have estranged parents I despised at the same time. It was a stupid drunken whim, which I regretted the minute after and it has been one of the most shameful moments of my life since.”

“Wait.”, Jin scowled. “You were drunk when you donated and they let you?”

Yoongi sniffed. “I was tipsy, yeah. I needed liquid courage to go through with it.”

“That isn’t just red flags, Yoongi, thats red blaring fucking sirens. What kinda third rate, illicit place did you donate to?”

There was a knock on the door before Taehyung pushed it open. Behind him, the rest of the members looked ready to leave. 

Sejin also came into view, frowning at Yoongi. 

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

Jin and Yoongi exchanged a glance. Here goes fucking nothing.

~•~•~

“What a fucking liar.”

Yoongi’s glazed eyes drifted over to his roommate, Jaehyun.

“Who?”

He didn’t particularly want to know, but if he didn’t give Jaehyun some sort of verbal response he would likely keep pestering him about “liars who lied about lying”. 

The blonde man took a deep inhale from his cigarette, blowing the smoke towards Yoongi. “That lying rat, Hyungwon. Did you see him strut in here decked head to toe in designer shit I can’t even pronounce the name of.”

Slowly, Yoongi turned around on his barstool, scanning the packed club with lazy eyes. He spotted Hyungwon among a gaggle of scantily clad girls feeling up his biceps.

Yoongi squinted. “Hyungwon? Wasn’t he asking you to set up a gig for him last month?”

“Asking? No, the bastard was begging.”, Jaehyun sneered. “Said he didn’t even have enough for his next meal. Now, look at him. The lying fucker.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Don’t tell me you actually took pity on him.”

“He was pretty fucking convincing.” Jaehyung signaled for two shots, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray atop the bar. “I even introduced him to our underground regulars, told them to give him a chance.”

“Is he any good?”

Jaehyun snorted. “Raps like a bubblegum pop princess.”

Laughing, Yoongi glanced back at the man in question, doing a double-take when he saw Hyungwon making his way towards them. “Ah shit. He’s coming here.”

Jaehyun blanched. “Hide me, quick.”

Too late.

“Hey, guys!”

Hyungwon hopped on the empty stool beside Yoongi, ordering a whiskey on the rocks, before turning towards the two men. “How have you been doing, Jay-T?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little. “And you, Gloss?”

Yoongi threw up in his mouth a little. 

Jaehyun groaned. “I told you not to call me that if I’m not on stage.”

Hyungwon grinned. 

Yoongi perused his attire. A gaudy jacket with square prints made up of the letter F, leather jeans that didn’t look like it came from a discount store where Yoongi got his from, ugly spiky sneakers with red soles. Although the outfit was hideous, he did seem to appear loaded all of a sudden. Usually, Yoongi wasn’t one to pry, but this bastard made him uncomfortable so he guessed he could return the favour. 

“Weren’t you broke last month? Did you rob a bank or something?”

Hyungwon smirked. “Nothing that extreme. I just happened to get lucky overnight.”

“So you won a couple games of poker, then?”, Jaehyun questioned. 

“Nah. Not that kind of luck.”

Both Yoongi and Jaehyun stared at him expectantly. The smug fucker just laughed.

“I paid off all my back rent, plus two months advance. Got presents for my three girlfriends and made the first deposit on my Royal Enfield.”

“You wanna rub it in?” Jaehyun scowled, his middle finger saluting him as he picked up his shot and downed it. 

“Jaehyun helped set up your first gig.” Yoongi guilt-tripped. Normally he wouldn’t care about some random fucker’s get-rich-quick schemes but these were desperate circumstances. “You owe him.”

The bartender brought Hyungwon’s drink. He paid for it in cash, noticing for the first time that Yoongi was neither drinking nor smoking. “Ah, why don’t you just admit it out loud? You need money. Can’t even afford a drink, can you?”

Yoongi flushed, squirming in his seat. 

Hyungwon raised a brow, feigning surprise. “Aren’t you one of the best underground rappers out there? The next big star?”, he snickered. “Dreams not quite panning out?”

“Shut up, loser.”, Jaehyun snapped. “He’s got a big audition coming up in a few months. When he gets in, we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“With what company? SM, YG?”

Jaehyun grit his teeth to stop himself from strangling the man. “Bighit.”

“Never even heard of it.”

Yoongi cut in, not liking the two men talking about him as if he wasn’t there. “Not your concern. Just tell us how you made so much in a month.” 

Hyungwon took a small sip of the whiskey, swallowing leisurely. He eyed the two men down as if they didn’t quite hold up to whatever judgments he was imparting in his mind. “It doesn’t matter anyway, you both are a bunch of pussies. 

Jaehyun, infamous for his short temper, bristled. “What the fuck did you say, you cumstain?”

Yoongi held his arm, halting him before he stood up. 

If they had put up with the asshole for so long, he was going to damn well make sure they got something out of it. Besides, he NEEDED to know how to get some quick cash. Jaehyun wasn’t aware of the extent of Yoongi’s destitution. What little money he made doing odd jobs and occasional gigs went to school fees and rent, whatever was leftover, if anything, went towards his music. Pretty soon even his daily diet of ramen was gonna go out of his budget. 

“What do you mean a bunch of pussies? Are you selling your organs or something?”, Yoongi pressed.

Hyungwon snorted. “Close enough.”

Okay. Yoongi wasn’t that desperate. “What the fuck, dude!”

Jaehyun’s eyes went wide and sorrowful. A complete 180 from his ire two minutes ago. “Bro. You don’t have to do that, there are always other options. Selling your body isn’t the answer. Let me set up something for you, spare your kidneys, please—

“Shut up.” Hyungwon scowled. “I’m not selling my internal organs.”

Yoongi was confused. “What are you selling then?”

Hyungwon took an unconcerned sip. “My sperm.”

Yoongi was shocked into silence, while Jaehyun scrunched up his face like he’d just tasted the sourest lemon. “That’s equally as fucked up.”

“It’s not. It’s just cum.”, Hyungwon defended. “I’m getting paid handsomely to cum in a plastic cup. If that’s not the easiest money, I don’t know what is.”

“Yeah and that cum is probably in some middle-aged woman’s oven, baking your fucking babies.”

Hyungwon shrugged, not in the least bit concerned. “They’re not mine. Biologically maybe, but I got nothing to do with them apart from that. I’m not an idiot, I read all the terms and clauses. Legally, I’m not gonna be a father until I fuck a baby into someone.”

Jaehyun shook his head, not convinced. “That’s still fucked up.”

“Whatever.” Hyungwon rolled his eyes, finishing his drink. “As I said, a bunch of fucking pussies.”

Yoongi was in deep thought as he listened to the two argue intently. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing out his opinion, “That’s gonna be on your head forever, always at the back of your mind. That you’ve got kids out there who don’t even know you exist.”

“They’re not my kids.”, Hyungwon reiterated, done with the conversation as he spotted a busty bottle blonde leaning across the bar seductively. “Now if you pussies are done, I gotta go dole out my thousand dollar cum for free tonight. Charity turns me on.”

Jaehyun watched him approach the blonde with a grimace. “What a sleazy asshole.”

“He is.”, Yoongi agreed. “But I hadn’t ever thought you could make so much selling semen.”

“I don’t think the government recognised sperm banks offer so much. He must be going to some back alley place.”

Yoongi hummed. “Must be.”

A month after the encounter with Hyungwon at the club, Yoongi had never felt more downtrodden in his life. If he had sinned in his previous life, karma was working overtime. His pity party had been going on for a week now. Right from when he’d been kicked out of his apartment for nonpayment of three months’ rent, to when he’d turned up at his usual hangout with the underground scene just to find out his upcoming gigs had been given to a new rapper he hadn’t even heard the name of, to his bank calling him for payment of pending bills, to here. In a line with the homeless for some free food at a soup kitchen and shelter. 

When he’d left home to chase his dreams, he’d never imagined that the road would be easy. He’d been prepared for ups and downs. But these weren’t just downs, these were never ending canyons that seemed to stretch on forever. He’d long since sold the music equipment he’d bought with his hard earned money to pay for school. With graduation so close, he hadn’t wanted to be expelled on top of being homeless. Jaehyun had offered to pay either his rent or tuition but Yoongi knew the guy was barely hanging on by a thread himself. He couldn’t ask for money from someone who barely had any to spare. 

He heaved a sigh when the line finally moved. The woman in front of him, who looked like she’d been on crack for decades, gave him a glare for the impatient noise. He wanted to flip her off. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday when the kind acquaintance who’s sofa he’d been crashing on had offered him a sandwich. Moreover, in about half an hour he had an interview with a pizzeria for a delivery guy position. He didn’t wanna pass out in front of his potential employers, his ticket out of homelessness. But if this line didn’t hurry up, he’d have to forego a meal, he didn’t want to be late. 

Which was exactly what happened. Twenty minutes and the line barely moved a few feet, the bored volunteers taking their time serving the cold soup and stale bread. 

After a few more minutes Yoongi cursed, his old wristwatch told him it was 3:56 pm. If he didn’t hightail it out of there he could kiss the job goodbye. 

Fuck it.

Breaking the line, he sprinted out. The pizzeria was just two blocks away, he could make it in time if he ran. He didn’t have the money to catch a taxi anyway. And if he jaywalked a little, he could even have a few minutes to spare to change into the button down in his backpack. It was just a delivery position, but for him everything depended on it. He wanted to make a good impression. 

And jaywalked he did. Right into the bumper of a speeding car. 

The first few seconds, the lights were knocked out of him. When he came to, he did a mental survey of his body as he lay there on the pavement, a crowd forming around him. He didn’t feel any wetness, no blood then. Not a lot of excruciating pain either. Could it be that his stupidity had been spared or was he in hell already?

The murmurs of the crowd registered. A kind elderly man’s voice spoke somewhere above him. “Young man, are you okay? The ambulance is on its way. We don’t wanna touch you in case anything’s broken.”

Ambulance.

A sudden electricity zinged through his body, and Yoongi sat up, flinching when his shoulder screamed. There’s the pain.

“No ambulance.”, he grit out. He couldn’t have medical bills on top of everything right now. 

As he reached up to push back the hair in his eyes, his watch gleamed. 4:09pm.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. 

That night he sat with Jaehyun in his former apartment, drinking cheap soju his friend had scrapped together for him somehow. He’d told himself he deserved it after the day he’d had. Hell, the week he’d had. But somewhere inside him was a feeling of self loathing for wasting precious seconds not actively seeking to remedy his situation and stop relying on others. 

Jaehyun had picked him up that afternoon when he’d refused any medical help. So now his arm was in a makeshift sling, painkillers and alcohol doing the job doctors were supposed to. He was pretty sure he’d torn a ligament or something. He didn’t know, he slept through all his biology classes. 

On top of it all, it was his birthday tomorrow. He was turning 18, a legal adult. Not that it mattered, he’d been on his own since 15. Why did his life feel like it was ending when it had barely just begun?

“What if I do it?”, he hypothesised out of the blue. “Its gonna be quick and I just need to forget afterwards.”

Jaehyun frowned. “What are you talking about, my man?”

“Sperm donation.”

Jaehyun choked on his drink. “Yoongi! No, what the fuck!”

“Why not?”, Yoongi asked, his mind working overtime to justify something he’d never thought he’d need to. It was a given. “Its not like anybody would know. Well apart from you and me.”

“That’s not the point. You wanna have kids so young?”

Yoongi scowled into his glass. “I’m not the one who’s going to be having them.”

“Look, man. I think its just the alcohol talking—

“I’m not drunk.”

“—but I’m not gonna stop you if you think this is the only way out. Just know that you’re gonna regret it later.”

“Later.”, Yoongi muttered softly. “How I wish it’d be later already.”

Later that night, he dialed Hyungwon.

~•~•~

“Jaehyun was right. I regretted it the second the hangover dissipated. That was one of the worst days of my life, not counting the string of shit shows preceding it. I rushed back to the place as soon as I could. I returned the money, I hadn’t even taken it out of the envelope. They said the sample couldn’t be returned to me, but they’ll make sure it was out of the system.”

“Well, they lied.”, Sejin deadpanned, eyes narrowed as if figuring out a thousand ways around this situation already. 

The rest of the boys, barring Seokjin, stared at Yoongi in awe. They sat around him on the living room couches, while he stood by the window, gazing at the Parisian skyline.

A far cry from the broken pavement, busted in windows and dilapidated buildings, the landscape of his late teens. 

The boys had known the rapper had struggled a lot before joining bighit, but for it to be laid out in so much detail. A new respect for him shone in their eyes. 

When Yoongi turned to face them, he was surprised to see no judgment on their faces, but he shouldn’t have been. 

“So,”, Jin straightened up, clapping his hands. “Let’s lay this down, shall we? Yoongi donated sperm to a shady place in 2011, but returned the money and demanded it not be used. Since this sperm bank was likely illegal in the first place, they didn’t care to actually go through with his request. Then it somehow ended up in the fertility clinic he got the mail from. Which leads us to now, according to the mail, someone is probably pregnant with Yoongi’s child.”

“No, don’t say that.”, Yoongi shook his head, refusing to come to the obvious conclusion. “Don’t even imply it. I don’t have a kid out there but I do want all traces of my sperm out of any kind of bank.”

Namjoon peered at Yoongi with sympathy. “Hyung, they’re saying you’re eligible for another donation. Your previous sample was used already. According to my guesstimates, there’s 50% chance the woman they put it in, is pregnant.”

“Fuck your guesstimates.”

Jeongguk scratched his head. “But it’s been years since Hyung was 18. How is it getting used just now?”

Sejin answered him, not glancing up from his phone. “Google says preserved sperm can be used for upto 20 years after donation.”

Yoongi cursed. 

Jeongguk was still confused, brows scrunched. “How? Won’t the baby be—“

“Don’t say it.”, Yoongi groaned.

“—20 years old then?”

A slap to the back of the youngest’s head sounded. Yoongi didn’t look to see who’d done the public service.

“What are you going to do, hyung?”, Jimin asked worriedly. “You could just let it be. Ignorance is bliss and all.”

Taehyung gasped in outrage. “How can you even suggest such a thing, Jimin? It’s his kid we’re talking about! He could be a parent!”

Yoongi growled. “Don’t say that.”

But Taehyung wasn’t finished with his sermon. “Even if there’s a minuscule chance of this actually being true, it’s his duty to care and provide for his offspring. Even if he or she is unwanted.”

Yoongi gazed at the darkening sky for divine intervention.

“Hold your horses, Taehyung-ah.”, Sejin stood up. “I messaged the magazine studio about a reschedule. The photoshoot will be before the concert tomorrow.”

No one said a word, everyone too preoccupied to be focusing on trifling things like photoshoots.

“As for this problem.”, Sejin continued, giving Yoongi a reassuring look. “Let me handle it. I’ll run a check on the place you mentioned and the fertility clinic. We can’t publicly sue anyone because one, donating to an illegal place would incriminate Yoongi as well and two, we can’t afford to have a word of this get out. But an anonymous tip to the police should do the job.”

“What about...”, Taehyung trailed off, not knowing how to mention the person who might be carrying Yoongi’s child. 

“I’ll pull some strings, find out who it is. First, we need to know if they’re pregnant or not. We’ll go from there.”

Yoongi sighed, nodding. He supposed he could only hope and pray now. 

~•~•~

“I can’t believe it. All your hopes and prayers came true. I’m so happy for you, noona.”

Taeyong gushed as he arranged his Staedtler coloured pencils on your desk, lining them on the upper edge of his sketch book perfectly. The illustrator was obsessive about having all his stationary in perfectly designated places before drawing. 

“It still feels like a dream. When the doctor confirmed it yesterday, I almost passed out.”, you grinned, lovingly flipping through your manuscripts to the scenes you wanted illustrated.

Your friend turned to face you with a pout, his ethereal face glowing from the sunlight streaming through your windows. “You should have taken me with you, noona. I don’t like that you went alone.”

“It’s alright, Ty.”, you addressed him with the nickname he loved so much. On cue, his cheeks flushed adorably. “I was fine, just jittery with excitement.”

Taeyong grinned, mischief in his eyes. His boyish youthfulness struck you and not for the first time you thought about basing a playful character on him. He was a college student, an art major. You hired him because you loved his whimsical sketching style and his watercolour realism. Also, because you didn’t have the money or the patience to get more “professional” artists. From your previous experience, they often turned their noses at any extra input from the author. Taeyong, on the other hand, loved to have you by his side as he set about bringing your characters to life. 

Most importantly, you hired him because he was kind of your muse, though you never let him know that. He teased you enough as it is.

“I will let you off the hook if you declare me his or her godfather.”

And you loved to tease him back.

“You’re 19 years old, you’re a kid yourself, Ty.” You giggled as he flew off into an outraged rant. 

“Noona, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not a kid! You’re not that much older than me, I don’t know why you gotta put on motherly airs already. It’s been a day since you found out you’re pregnant. Pump the breaks. And don’t you dare try to experiment your parenting skills on me, I’m warning you—“

The ringing of your phone from your bedside table cut him off. You stretched to reach for it, still guffawing lightly at your friend. 

It was an unknown number. You picked it up. 

“Hello.”

A man’s voice answered you. “Hello, is this __?”

“Speaking.”

“Good afternoon, Miss.__. I’m Park Beomgyu from Tangent Publications. You might have heard of us. We are a graphic novel and manhwa publishing company, but we’re starting to venture into children’s fiction as well. Your work has caught our attention and we’d like to partner up with you for your next project. That is, if you’re interested.”

You stared wide eyed at Taeyong, who was starting to look worried at your dumbstruck expression. 

Work had never come to your doorstep. You’d always had to go chasing for it.

“Miss, are you there?”

“Y-yes! I’m here. And yes, I accept.”

The man chuckled. “Not so fast, Miss. Let’s discuss it first. If you’re free tomorrow morning, can I set up a meeting with our editor at 10 am?”

You spoke before he could properly finish. “Yeah, totally. I’m free. Just let me know the address.”

“I’ll message it. Looking forward to meeting you.”

“Yeah, same here.”, you said lamely as he hung up, your heart beating crazily in your chest.

“Who was it?”, Taeyong questioned, coming to sit beside you.

You launched yourself at him with a squeal.

~•~•~

You weren’t surprised when the address led you to Gangnam’s busiest area, office buildings and corporate suits abound. Though you did feel nervous in your light blue tea-length chequered dress. You didn’t own any suits or even pencil skirts, always feeling a little insecure with figure-hugging attire. 

You had done your research last night, having never heard of Tangent Publications before. Sprawled on your couch with your all-time favourite animation, Finding Nemo playing on your tv in the background, you had set up your laptop on a cushion. Not perching it on your stomach like you usually did, paranoid about harmful rays reaching your baby. 

You were surprised at the search results. As the man on the phone mentioned, they did only publish manhwas and even webtoons, but these were about idols. Their most widely sold comics being about BTS’ concept storylines. 

A little further digging revealed that the company was partially owned by Bighit entertainment and STIC investments, which also had stakes in the entertainment sector. 

What mattered to you was that they were successful, which looking at their net profit, they were and they had good editors, which your searches confirmed.

You were feeling extremely lucky and happy that they chose you for their next venture. At the right time too, the first installment in your new series was almost done. 

The friendly receptionist greeted you with a smile, immediately telling you the right floor when you gave her your name. You checked your appearance in the elevator mirror, making sure there was no food stuck in your teeth or wrinkle in your dress. 

You alighted on the eighth floor, where another lady at the front pointed you to the right door. You knocked at exactly 10 am, feeling satisfied at your timing. 

The heavy oak door opened, startling you. You thought someone would call you in. 

A tall man in glasses smiled at you, opening the door wide. You stepped in as he introduced himself. 

“Good morning,__-ssi. My name is Sejin.”

“Oh, good morning.” Not the editor google mentioned, but of course, there would be others in a big publishing company. “Are you one of the editors?”

Sejin closed the door, motioning you to the seat in front of his desk, answering you only when you both had sat down. “Yeah.”

You smiled. “Thank you so much for offering me this opportunity. I’m so flattered you chose me for your first foray into children’s literature.”

“Your work speaks for you, __-ssi. You’re incredibly talented.”, Sejin praised, leaning forward to set his elbows on the table and interlace his fingers. You interpreted the body language easily, he was all business. 

“We’d like to offer you a 5 book deal. A complete series if you will. You can negotiate for more if you feel like 5 won’t be enough. We will leave the story’s concept, art and every other creative decision to you, except of course the editing and research help you’d require. As well as get you the illustrator of your choice.”

“I already have an illustrator, I’d like to retain him.”, you interjected though everything he said left you reeling. Was this a daydream?

Sejin nodded. “No problem. As a starting point, we’d like to offer you 100 million won per book, negotiable down the line and not including sales profits.”

Your jaw dropped. “Is this a prank?” You turned in your chair, looking for cameras. “Am I being pranked? If so, I don’t appreciate it.”

Sejin gave you a calm smile. “No, ma’am. You are not being pranked. You heard me correctly. 100 million won per book, not including profits.”

You laughed. A disbelieving sound. “I’m sorry but either you don’t know how to do business or you’re really sure these books are gonna sell like hot cakes. And although I do think I’m really good at what I do, children’s literature is no fantasy or science fiction. It doesn’t have a fanbase readership to buoy every new installment that comes out. I have learned this the hard way.”

“You didn’t have us before. With the right marketing, anything can sell well.”, he simply replied, dismissing your concerns. 

“Okay.”, you took a deep breath, a sudden pressure on your shoulders, something nagging at your brain you were too preoccupied to figure out. “I’d like to see the contract first.”

“Sure.” Sejin produced a thick document from the desk drawer, flipping through it as he casually spoke. “You can take it home, mull it over, take your time coming to a decision. You’re pregnant, so I wouldn’t like to keep you here for long.”

You froze, blood leaving your face. 

“What did you say?”, you whispered.

Calmly, Sejin looked up from the papers, briefly glancing behind you before meeting your eyes. He didn’t repeat himself, showing absolutely no reaction.

Goosebumps raised on your arms, your voice fearful as you asked, “How did you know that I’m having a baby?”

“Because it’s mine.”

Jumping out of the chair in fright, you spun around. 

A stunningly attractive and familiar face was leaning against the closed door. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in. 

Glancing back at Sejin, who’d stood up as well, you slowly extricated yourself from the tangle of chair legs, moving to the middle of the room to have direct access to the door, but the newcomer was blocking your exit. 

Sejin approached him, whispering something you couldn’t hear. The man nodded, not breaking the critical gaze with which he regarded you. 

He let Sejin leave, locking the door behind him. 

“Is there a reason why I’m alone in a room with you? I will bring this whole building down with my screams if you don’t unlock that door and step away from it right now!”, you threatened.

He rolled his eyes. “The room’s soundproof.”

“You—”, you paused your scathing diatribe before it had even begun, cogs whirring, memory catching up. “You’re Min Yoongi.”

“Congratulations.”

Bewilderment swamped you. What the hell was going on? “What do you want from me?

“Absolutely nothing.” Yoongi ambled towards you with indolent grace, his eyes never leaving your befuddled ones. “You have something of mine, unwillingly given.”

“I have never even met you before. I don’t even like your music.”

Maybe that add-on wasn’t necessary, but you were feeling caged and on the defensive. 

Yoongi pursed his lips, his censorious gaze roving up and down your form. “Yeah, we don’t make music for the likes of you.”

You bristled. What the heck did that mean? You didn’t want to ask. “Thanks for sparing me. I still don’t see how I could possibly have anything of yours.”

“You’re pregnant and it’s mine.” 

“I’m pregnant, yes, but what’s yours?”

Yoongi scowled. “You’re gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Say what?”

“I’m the father. You’re carrying..”, he seemed reluctant to continue but did, scowl deepening. “..my child.”

You faked a laugh, amused but more concerned for the unhinged man in front of you. “No, I’m not. Maybe you have amnesia or something, this is the first time I’m seeing you in person. Usually, your tetchy self only greets me from magazines and subway ads.”

“Don’t try to sound smart.__. You don’t.”, he parried. “The thing with artificial insemination is that the lonely women who get it, often don’t know who’s baby they’re carrying.”

For the second time, you tensed with trepidation. They had entirely too personal information on you. It didn’t make any sense, none of what he was saying did. “Why do you know that?” 

You glared at him when he smirked.

“Ran a background check on you. Single, 27-year-old, children’s fiction writer, who’s been trying for pregnancy at different clinics for a year now. Bank balance is at an all-time low, the previous publisher isn’t picking up any of your new work. A string of failed relationships behind you because of your desire to have a child so early. Most of the time you hang around some college-aged kid who also does artwork for you, apart from that you don’t have many close friends. You stay at—”

“Shut up!”, you fumed, feeling really violated. The nerve of this man. He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered with his words. “You’re a celebrity, aren’t you? Don’t you guys scream privacy at every unsolicited photo, every personal detail revealed to the public? Your hypocrisy is alarming.”

“I will let you know one thing. Guilt is not an emotion I feel. The two situations aren’t even remotely comparable.” He stepped closer, his all-black attire striking against the white of the room. He looked like an irritated bat who’d been disturbed from his hibernation. 

“Don’t interrupt me.”, he commanded. “I had to know what type of person my sperm had been,” he coughed, gaze drifting away for a second. “..used on.”

“Your...?”, you trailed off, still not connecting the dots. What he was implying was preposterous, it couldn’t possibly be that.

It was exactly that. 

His voice was dispassionate when he explained, his countenance inscrutable, he was a master at masking every emotion. “A sample of my semen which was sent for regular health checkups was misplaced by a lab technician, accidentally labeled for donation to a sperm bank. I got to know about it when your fertility clinic sent me an email.”

You swallowed harshly. “They put it in me?”

Yoongi scrunched his nose. “Unfortunately.”

Did he have to sound so repulsed? You stepped back, only speaking when you’d somewhat processed your predicament. 

You gave him a sympathetic frown. Best to go with understanding, you didn’t want a confrontation. It was a delicate situation which, if you wanted to weasel out of, you’d need some tact. 

“That is unfortunate. I’m sure you must feel very frustrated. But I signed very hefty paperwork, before going in for treatment. And it said that the donor would have no legal right over the child, unless there’s a mutual agreement. I’m sorry but I have no obligation towards you and this is my child only.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickered to the hand you placed on your belly. He bit the inside of his cheek and you had the sneaking suspicion he didn’t give a flying fuck what your obligations were. 

“I’m going to make myself very clear ___. I don’t want your apology. The people responsible for this mess are paying for it, don’t worry. But if you think that I’m gonna roll over politely and let you scamper off with what’s mine, you have another thing coming.”

Your blood boiled and you hurled towards him. He didn’t show any surprise when you poked his hoodie-clad chest angrily.

Fuck tact. 

“I didn’t ask for this, you asshole. I’ve been waiting for this moment my entire fucking life and no dickwipe with a huge ego just because he can spit some words is gonna fuck it up for me.”

Yoongi blinked. “You swear too much for a children’s author, no wonder your sales are tanking.”

“Shut the fuck up!” You dug the pointer finger deeper in his chest. 

He winced, clasping your wrist. “Okay, is this the right time to tell you that I was gonna suggest an abortion in exchange for the book deal?”

Panic swamped you, anger disappearing for a huge dose of terror. You clutched the fabric covering your tummy, a clawing need to run and protect your baby blanketing you. No one was going to take him or her away from you, not when you’d toiled your last penny and pinned your every hope on this baby. 

“Hey.” Suddenly Yoongi crowded you, gently grasping your shoulders. “Hey, breathe please.”

His words made you aware of your lungs screaming for air, short, staccato breaths making you lightheaded.

“Breathe in for me.”, he guided and you obeyed, looking into his worried eyes to ground yourself. “And breathe out. Again. Just like that. You’re alright.”

A hand at your back guided you to the chair you’d previously occupied and you flopped down on it gratefully. Yoongi hunched over you, roving his searching eyes over your face for more signs of panic. 

“I was joking. Partially.”, he bit his bottom lip, and strangely you found the action alluring. “I knew someone who worked so hard to reach this point, wouldn’t even entertain the notion.”

You glowered at him, annoyance dimming for surprise when you noted how close he was, his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He didn’t seem to notice it though.

“It’s very highhanded of you to even think about such a thing. No amount of money can replace a life.”

His eyes softened, the first genuine smile from him peeking through. If you didn’t know how much of an asshole he was, you’d think he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. 

“You’d be surprised how many people would disagree.”

“I’m sure you would.”

He nodded, having no problem admitting it. “Can you blame me? I’m at the peak of my career right now, this has all the makings of my fall from grace. Besides, I didn’t want children, ever.”

“Didn’t?”, you questioned his use of past tense.

He shrugged, straightening up and letting you relax a little from his heady presence. “You gotta roll with the punches.”

You hadn’t unclasped your hand from your dress, the fabric covering your stomach wrinkling horribly. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You dreaded it, but what he said wasn’t unexpected.

“I want shared custody.”

Never.

“No.” You brought down the hammer.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“I’m not gonna be an absent father, __”

“That’s alright.”, you threw back, absolutely done with this conversation. “You don’t have to be any kind of father.”

Slowly, so gracefully you didn’t even notice it at first, Yoongi hunched back over you, now impossibly closer. You leaned back as far as possible but you could tell two things, that his cologne was expensive and it smelled delicious as fuck. 

“Then who’s gonna be the father?”, he asked quietly. You gulped.

“I- the- I mean no one. Single moms do just fine.” And because he started to move off of you and you were secretly a glutton for punishment, as well as for men who smelled mouth-watering, you added, “My future husband...”

You trailed off at the tick in his jaw.

He raised a brow. “How fucking cute. Too bad your domestic dreams are never coming true,__. What’s mine is mine. No other man is going to be the father of my child. Over my fucking dead body.”

You almost said, “then perish”, but he stood up, grasping your upper arm to help you up as well. He was incredibly gentle with you, a stark contrast to the verbal barbs he inflicted every time he opened his mouth.

For example:

“We’re also going to have to get a DNA test done.”

Before you could implode in his face, he interlocked your fingers with his, tenderly releasing your death grip on your dress. His other hand came up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear and hook your chin up.

You were blindsided. Rage and fluttering heart palpitations a weird combo. 

“Don’t lose a fuse over it now. I think you’ve got enough on your mind already. Go home, sleep it off, we’ll talk when you’re feeling more level headed.”

It really shouldn’t have surprised you that he’d turn this into some sort of reverse psychology “I’m only looking out for you” situation, making you the unreasonable one for feeling, very justifiably, enraged at his imperiousness. 

But you did really want to sleep it off, your newly changing body demanded you recharge from this draining encounter already. You sagged in his arms, letting him support you.

Yoongi smirked at your body’s compliance and you wanted to slap it off. 

“How did you get here? Did you drive?”

You shook your head. “Took the subway, then walked.”

Yoongi peered at the heels on your feet, irritation flaring on his face. “For someone so adamant on having a baby, you’re already putting your health on the line, huh?”

There he fucking goes again. 

“It’s none of your business.”, you said curtly.

He raised a challenging brow. “The baby you’re carrying is my business.”

His high handedness knew no bounds. 

He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call a driver to take you home.”

“No need.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

You grit your teeth, biting your tongue as he led you to the door. Just a few more seconds in his presence, then TO FREEDOM. 

He opened the door.

And three men tumbled inside on top of each other, the momentum making them fall on the floor in a heap. 

You winced.

“What the fuck?!”, Yoongi growled, his resting death scowl back with a vengeance. “Were you three fuckheads eavesdropping?”

The men immediately stood up, fixing their clothing. The one at the bottom of the heap winced when the one above him used him as support. 

You recognised all of them. His bandmates. Although you weren’t their fan, you were still a little starstruck. The cameras didn’t do their faces justice. You shrunk behind Yoongi, a little intimidated at so much testosterone surrounding you. Prime specimen of the male species too. If you weren’t already pregnant, your ovaries would be tingling with primordial urges. 

Then they all spoke at the same time. 

“You wouldn’t let us come with you!” Taehyung.

“It’s all Taehyung’s doing hyung, we just wanted to make sure he didn’t get in any trouble.” Jeongguk.

“We?! What the fuck, don’t include me in your schemes. You guys dragged me here!” Jimin. 

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose and you prepared for another of his already infamous searing rebukes. You wanted popcorn to watch these three guys get thoroughly chastened. 

Taehyung just held up his hand, stopping the elder even before he began. “Calm down, hyung. We’re not here for you.”

Your jaw dropped. He shut Yoongi up with a hand. You wanted to worship at this guy’s shrine. 

Then he peered around Yoongi to look at you, giving you a shy smile. “Hello,__. I’m Taehyung.”

Wow, Yoongi and his bandmates were night and day. This guy reminded you of Winnie The Pooh while Yoongi was Cruella de Vil personified. 

When you didn’t say anything, Taehyung frowned with worry, turning accusing eyes at Yoongi.

“Hyung, you upset her.”

Yes, he did, Pooh.

Yoongi raised an unconcerned brow. “And? Why the fuck are you here again?”

“Would you stop with the swearing, there’s a child in the room.”, Taehyung reprimanded and your worshipful impulses grew. 

Jeongguk scowled.

Jimin nudged him. “Not you, idiot.”

Taehyung came towards you with a placating smile, likely sensing the damage Yoongi had done. “I can drop you home. There’s a really good gelato shop a block from here. If you want we can stop there. Ice cream fixes everything.”

You nodded immediately, letting your guardian angel lead you out of the room with a hand at your back. 

You didn’t spare Yoongi’s disbelieving face another look. 

A/n: Taehyung will make a more proper appearace in the next chapter. Do let me know what you thougt, feeback keeps me writing.

[reingkings]

Black Friday (*Spoilers*)

Alright first I want to say this is not hate! I absolutely LOVED Black Friday. However, I did have some things that I felt could have been changed to make the script a little stronger

Things I loved:

The old TGWDLM gang! — we got an update into their lives without it being overly shoved into our faces. It was just there for people who loved the first musical, but knowing about them wasn’t necessary to the understanding of this one

The music! — Feast or Famine, Do You Want to Play?, Adore Me (especially the chorus), Black Friday, If I Fail You, Our Doors Are Open well I can’t name them all.

Oh, and how America is Great Again played in the background when General McNamara appears on screen. I’m a sucker for characters having their own themes songs. Wouldn’t it be amazing if Paul got a mix of Let it Out/Inevitable

The fact that starkid made a MUSICAL extended universe

The new characters/actors, Kim, Angela, Kendall, James, Curt, were all amazing and their addition really helped flesh out the new universe (plus, it doesn’t hurt that they have amazing voices)

The old cast playing new dynamics and pushing themselves (Lauren, Dylan, and Joey especially, but Jaime killed in her role as Sherman too, as did Robert with Ethan and Jon as Gary)

THE SCRIPT OH MY GOD THE SCRIPT

The choreography! Feast or Famine was my favorite but they keep getting better and better with this!

Their comedy, still fucking gold. Especially those fucking oneliners and small exchanges. “Well, we haven’t put a label on it yet” “But we are intimate” *moment if silence*, “Hannah what the fuck is this, that better be fucking floss!”, “That’s a bribe sir, and that’s illegal”, *raised eyebrow*, “... Well it should be”, “Ooh right in the subpeona”, everything about James Tolbert as Agent Morris

The social CRITIQUE, the fact that the kids don’t even want wiggly, it’s the adults who want to buy wigglys to fill the holes in them (still buying a wiggly though)

How vitalized they all seem to be about the new direction of starkid/that they’re experimenting and coming out of their comfort zone. I love starkid but you could tell that they were getting worn out by just sticking to the same formula of just making parodies. Before TGWDLM we had 2 year gaps between uploads of musicals (which, a year to write a musical is incredible, Sondheim has currently been working on the latest for a decade, and Miranda took like three for Hamilton). I love seeing creators grow

The overall aesthetic of the stage, costumes, and music was so vicerally haunting and scary. I literally slept with my hallway light on and the door open the first time I saw it

Sigh, and now for the things I might get pitchforked for

First some technical stuff. One, I think the sound equipment was on too low for the stage production. If you compare the songs in the stage production to the album version, you can tell that the more subtle parts of the intrumentals were just too quiet. Also, the actors’ voices were much louder than the music so sometimes it was like they were singing acapella. Two, although I appreciate the new camera work and how it’s more similar to traditional recordings of musicals, it did take away from my ability to appreciate the choreography and the subtle reactions of the cast

While a lot of the songs were good, some of them just needed to be cut or trimmed. Especially for songs where one line of explanation would have sufficed. An example of a trimmed song I think is CaliforM.I.A where Lex sings that her mom is an alcoholic, etc. I feel like it could have just been spoken and it would have been more subtle, quiet and painful. A song I think needed to be cut was Deck the Halls. I love Robert, but that song was mostly just an omage to what they did with Workin’ Boys. However, the part that made Workin’ Boys, pardon the pun, work was that it was Professor Hidggen’s backstory/dream. It revealed something about him and his isolation

Some of the lines in the lyrics were just clunky. It’s something I noticed in TGWDLM, but I thought it really worked there since the characters couldn’t sing naturally. However, it seemed to be worse in this? Like I said, some songs were still golden. But some just. Monsters and Men, I noticed had a lot of it. Which yeah, they had less than a year to write it and they had more songs than TGWDLM, so it makes sense that some are a bit rushed? But still, i would have preferred a shorter soundtrack with tighter songs.

I think the Becky and Tom romance was so unnecessary. I feel like yeah, you can make them exes, and you can build up their chemistry so it’s implied they’ll get together eventually, but the fact that they fall in “love” in like 5 hours makes them so shoehorned. For Becky, it’s kind of a disservice because most of her songs are then focused on romance. For Tom, it’s just. It kind of cheapens him, especially since he was previously married for at least 8 years. Like you don’t hear him mention Jane or Tim at all, or worry about Tim’s gift when he’s at the theater. So when it comes to him singing “If I Fail You” it doesn’t feel authentic because you don’t get that sense of Tom feeling like failure over Tim in his dialogue. And also, you could cut out a lot of songs (and give them something new ones)

Although I loved the multiple storylines, I felt like it was really hard to connect to the characters. I feel like that might be because of the songs? Characters were so busy with info dump songs that there were just less interactions in general. I would have loved if the character subtleties could be explored in the same way as TGWDLM

They shouldn’t have killed Ethan. Not just because it’s Robert, but as part of the overall storyline, they shouldn’t have killed Ethan.

Imagine if it had played out like this: No Becky-Tom Romance. They’re just fleeing the mayhem together because they’re the few that managed to keep sane. Becky has a doll but Tom doesn’t. Ethan and Hannah get accosted by the mob. Ethan tells Hannah to run and you see him start to fight, but not what happens after. Hannah is running and you see dead bodies strewn around the mall (to show that people have died). Becky and Tom appear. They hear a few of the wiggly worshippers members yell that they have to find the girl with the wiggly. Tom joins in on the hunt because “he needs to find one for Tim”, the same scene plays out with Do You Want to Play With Me? bc that song is a BOP but Ethan shows up to save Hannah. Becky manages to snap out of her trance and helps Ethan subdue Tom. The three of them flee. Now the two of them are bigger targets bc they had two wigglys. Meanwhile Lex teams up with her managers/discovers her supernatural powers during their escape or something and goes looking for Hannah and Ethan. All this within the first act. Now you’ve got about ~4 plotlines (the cultists/Linda, the trio, Lex (all at the mall) and General McNamara) that are a bit interconnected instead of ~6.

None of the characters got time to breathe, pause and reassess, or grieve. Hannah and Lex never even found out about Ethan. Gerald didn’t find out his wife died, and his call bit was used for comedy, The President didn’t even seem too affected by General McNamara’s sacrifice (which might be a byproduct of the switching story arcs, but contrasts to his TGWDLM moments where he at least got his last words and Paul remembered him)

There was no indication of Lex being supernatural, so her connection with General McNamara was pretty out of the blue and unearned.

That’s it. As I said, I loved it, I just think it could be rearranged somewhat

[xathia-89]

Mafia AU Part 5

True to his word, the press were more than a little relentless. And to keep the whole image up, Shingen was taking me to his work now most days, and surrounded by bodyguards of course. All I was really doing was playing 'dutiful fiancée' and using my tablet to plan the wedding of course.

Then an article popped up that made me pause as I was looking through a trashy media website for some glitzy ideas.

"Shingen?" I was hesitant to disturb him during his work, but I wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't want to wait.

"What?" He frowned, though his tone wasn't harsh. It was firm and gave me an opening. I chose to say nothing and handed my tablet over with the article displayed. It was making the claims that it wasn't a true engagement, neither of us had ever been seen sharing a kiss or a moment of passion, and it was most certainly boosting Shingen's image alone. Then a line about my 'possible connections' to the well-known mob boss, Nobunaga Oda, since I shared a similar appearance with one of his top people and a surname as well. "We'll address that," he abruptly said, his mood souring after handing me the tablet back. "Yuki will take you home, I am going to be late now."

For once, his tone wasn't directed at me. He had softened almost, and I certainly wasn't allowed anywhere alone. It was the press that were starting to irritate me more than my fiancé, they simply wanted to see everything all the time, and would turn up at any appointment we made. I felt as though I had lost every right to privacy since coming back the second I started to step outside of the manor.

Yukimura was as salty as ever it felt like. The bodyguards were always focused on my movements rather than Shingen's. He lived for the spotlight, where it terrified me. I needed the shield and protection, and at least Takeda seemed to understand that about me as he ordered them to block me from the cameras.

"Miss Toyotomi!" Was all that was being shouted as we left the building. I kept my head down, and let the guys do their jobs. Not that it stopped them from yelling things at me as I got into the car.

"Apparently some people have nothing better to do," Yukimura scoffed once we had pulled away.

"Someone wrote an accusatory article that the engagement is a fraud because we've never been caught kissing," I brought up. I wasn't sure why as I glanced out of the tinted window to watch the world go by. "He didn't look very impressed when he gave me my tablet back."

"Wait, he's staying because of an article you found?" Sanada did a double take before I brought the article up for him to read over. "Witchcraft," he spat, thrusting it back at me after glancing it over. "That would never warrant a response from Shingen," he glared at me accusingly.

"All I did was show it to him, and he decided that I was going back and he was staying late," I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at the man.

"Coincidence," Yukimura was determined to stay on his current path. "He would never do all this for a woman," I heard him mutter under his breath but gave no signs to indicate that I had heard him.

A buzz on the intercom made me jump but got my attention in the middle of the mindless internet scrolling I was doing.

"Natsuki, are you decent?" I was surprised to hear Shingen asking before entering for once.

"Yeah," I replied after a short pause and then heard my door being opened.

Shingen let himself in and sat down on the armchair that had now been installed in my 'room'. He had taken note that I appreciated the two-seater sofa, and had made a measure to incorporate some boundaries it seemed after my brief reunion with my brother. I could see he wasn't looking as calm and collected as usual, and decided that maybe giving him a slighter easier time would get me some answers as I walked over from the office space and dropped my weight into the sofa.

"Because of that lovely article you found, it's forced my hand a little," he started. "I'm not angry at you for finding it, it would have caused a lot more of a problem for us both if you hadn't really. But the press are more than a little thirsty for us; it seems," Shingen didn't seem entirely comfortable with the whole idea. "I've had to arrange a glitzy interview because otherwise, it will simply be all rumours. Someone will be attending in a few hours because it has to move fast. I believe there should be a trouser suit that you haven't been photographed in yet in the wardrobe, and I would like you to wear that, and get your hair and makeup sorted for it, please," the manners and requests instead of ordering me around were taking me off guard. "I will get Yuki to fetch you when she's due to arrive, but if you could get sorted now, I would appreciate it."

"Only because you asked nicely and told me what was going on," I replied, tilting my head slightly before the redhead stood up, and then bowed politely before leaving. The complete turn around in character was a change, it was as though he'd realised I was a person instead of a pawn before I realised that I had just agreed to attend a press interview and now had to get myself ready and presentable.

She wasn't what I was expecting in a reporter. She offered her hand only to the renown playboy, a dark brunette shade of carefully styled hair, and minimalistic make-up, paired with conservative attire. It wasn't just about how she looked was my impression, and I narrowed my eyes a little.

"Don't look so disappointed they didn't send the intern Mr Takeda," she dazzled. "Ms Yushi at your service," she politely introduced herself to me, offering the same hand and smile as I lightly shook it. "Seeing as it took this long to secure the interview, then I wasn't trusting any of my staff to complete it for me," she smiled, taking the gestured seat opposite us as her photographer carefully set up the equipment. He was a little stiff, making sure to point all of the cameras at us and then he kept adjusting the angles as though trying to account for something. "We agreed that you'd see the interview before publication," she rambled off, as I suddenly tugged Takeda down as a bullet hit the wall where his head had been moments ago.

I had ‘Ms Yushi' pinned to the floor, my legs straddling her hips while my hands were over her wrists. Kenshin was restraining the photographer, the man in a headlock before he had managed to get too far. She was a feisty one and far too much energy as I was resisted the urge to clobber her across the back of the head.

Yukimura silently took over from me, and the pair were escorted to Kenshin's part of his mansion, and I sunk back into one of the armchairs slowly. Sasuke was in command of confirming that the house was safe as Shingen ran his fingers through his hair.

"You could have let that go through straight me princess," the man broke me from my trance, an uncomfortable look on his face as he fidgeted with his tie and loosened it off. "No one would have questioned it," he frowned and leant against the ornate fireplace that took up most of the living room.

"Yeah, well," I muttered, not quite believing it myself.  I kept refusing any offer of alcohol while the redhead was tipping back several shots of whiskey, trying to figure out what had tipped me off. "The camera," I said out of nowhere, "Where's Sasuke?" I demanded, snapping and jumping out of my seat at the returning Kenshin from showing our 'guests' to their new rooms.

"He's checking the base," Shingen tried to calm me, slinging an arm around my shoulders, and trying to pull me back from the other man.

"No, he needs to be here and checking the equipment," I argued. "That bullet trajectory isn't from either of them, and it's impossible to have been shot from anywhere else without glass breaking."

Kenshin hated my instinct and logic but left to go and find the scientist as I couldn't stop the pacing I was doing out of fret. Sasuke was the calm needed as he approached the equipment with a gentleness I'd never seen before.

After what felt like an age, a cough attracted everyone's attention. The room was so tense that it could have been used to cut glaciers in half. Uesugi moved around the back of the third camera, where Sasuke had carefully disassembled the device. It was a false fit and had a single shotgun built into the flash device.

"Blind the room and kill you," I murmured to Shingen. "That's not a signature I know," I said, looking up at the intended victim.

"Someone's sending a message, did they say anything downstairs?" Shingen frowned.

"Nothing, but I haven't brought out all the big stops yet," it was the first time I'd seen a smile grace Kenshin's lips. And it chilled me to the bone as the man disappeared.

"Let's get you somewhere safe," Takeda said, patting my shoulder to bring my attention back from its current rampage in imagination land.

I wasn't sure who was more surprised when the van door opened, and Mitsunari and Nobunaga were there with Shingen. Ishida's amethyst eyes had a look of BSOD, while Nobunaga was trying to work out what this was going to cost him.

"I said I'd make it worth your time," Shingen calmly said, and gestured for me to get out of the van.

"Hideyoshi will be relieved," Oda commented as I clambered down to the floor, looking me over in the trouser suit that I hadn't been given a chance to change out of.

I was nearly toppled over and encased in the warmth that I hadn't felt or smelt in what had seemed like a lifetime. My brother had forgone all formalities and appearances, rubbing his hands up and down my back as he was muttering something about wringing someone's neck and how happy he was to see me.

Then a cough made him freeze and reluctantly let me go. Nobunaga was smirking at his subordinate's behaviour, and Takeda had a flash of something that was hidden the second he realised I was looking. We were shown through to the living room where any guests were greeted and torn to shreds.

Masamune was looking ruffled, while Mitsuhide and Ieyasu were wearing masks of stoic. Though I detected the slightest expressions of being annoyed in their eyes. All of them were studying me for any signs of harm, and my brother was definitely torn about how close to sit next to me. Technically, I was the enemy for now and tried to make things easier as I sat on the 'foreigners' seat with Shingen. The man would have passed as not being bothered, but it was the slightest crinkle of his eyes and the way that he was surveying the scenery that told me he was just as on edge as the rest of the men.

"So, what's the pleasure of this? I've seen all of the photos and reports, and a few are even claiming it's all false," Nobunaga was trying to assert his dominance.

"I came across a new signature this morning, and I'm surprised you haven't been utilising Princess to her full extent of abilities," Takeda's front was going to start cracking. "Since she saved me from an assassination this morning anyway," he shrugged as though it was nothing, while I was blushing furiously and staring at the floor to avoid the surprised expressions all around. "A single shotgun, disguised as a camera flash-"

"As if we would stoop to that level," Hideyoshi immediately interjected. "We don't use those techniques."

"He's asking because we found the backups were designed to take me out," I softly spoke. "Kenshin got the information out, that should the bullet and gun fail to go off, then I was to be taken out by a sniper when the interview was over."

The atmosphere was frozen. Shingen was gripping my hand tightly, and I realised that I had laced our fingers together in support.

"So why are you here?" Ieyasu snapped, breaking the image of an aloof man.

"Because if I didn't recognise it, and they were willing to target me, then it means that someone is looking to create a vacuum and take over for themselves," I pointed out. "It might be the time to pool resources maybe and keep an eye out for the mutual threat before you go back to trying to destroy each other." I scoffed.

The whole room was plunged into an ice age. No one wanted to move for fear of breaking the illusion that they didn't want to do this before my temper was about to get the better of me. Shingen was getting better at reading me and finally suggested to Nobunaga they go and discuss the finer terms of an agreement somewhere a little more private. Mitsunari tagged along as usual for the legal protection of Oda, before the room seemed to breathe again.

I was then the focus of several overbearing brothers it seemed, Hideyoshi on one side of me, and Masamune on the other. It was a big hug, and even Ieyasu had a slight smile on his face as he watched us from the other sofa.

"I'm fine," I laughed, one arm hooked around either male. Mitsuhide was sat with a knowing look on his face before sliding in from behind and hugging me from over the back of the sofa. "I'm fine, I promise."

"You're a clever little girl at times," it was rare to hear direct praise from Akechi as I tilted my head back. "You took my lessons about disappearing off the grid to heart at least. Even when I'm struggling to find you, then you've done very well for yourself."

"I was only found because of photographed ID cards," I weakly smiled. "And even then, it took several months, in which I managed a promotion."

Hideyoshi was sighing and resting his head on top of mine. "I never wanted you to get this involved," he muttered.

"Well, I did, and I am," I firmly replied. "I'm also an adult fully capable of making my own decisions," I reminded him. "With enough of a knack for reading people that I can pull mob lords out of the range of travelling bullets," I paused.

Masamune ruffled my hair, breaking my silent trance. "You haven't had the chance for some of my delicacies in a while, so we should head there!"

No one stood a chance of stopping the cooking fanatic and promptly lifted me off the sofa in one swift moment. My brother, Mitsuhide and Ieyasu followed because they claimed to not be able to trust Masamune to not keep his hands off me between cooking things. Nothing to do with wanting to taste his food of course.

Nobunaga tapped his fingers against the desk. Shingen was a hardened man, he had to give his opponent the credit he deserved in that respect, but that was going to make him a challenging adversary to remove later on.

"What's the plan with Princess?" He asked before he could even stop himself and then spotted the crack in the mask of the redhead. A weak spot?

"She stays with me," Takeda stated, the mask settled back into place. "The media and all social circles know her as my fiancée, it would become more than a little suspicious if she suddenly appeared with you," Oda was frowning now.

"She stays here, in exchange, you can use my right-hand man," Hideyoshi was going to be furious, but it kept his sister out of the grasps of Takeda. "If all goes well, we will swap them back."

"Fine, but any media stunt stating that she's not my fiancée or is suddenly now engaged to you then everything becomes null and void and it's a two-front war," Shingen was getting a little heated under the collar.

"I don't control Natsuki," Nobunaga calmly stated. "But I won't influence her to do anything of the sort."

"Neither you or any of your men will do anything to influence her to do anything like that," Shingen was pressing hard to close the loopholes.

Oda smirked. "I'm not you, Shingen, I will come charging straight for you after this, Natsuki has nothing to do with it."  

[silvensei]

His brother’s fingers drummed against his palm, and his brother’s palm ran over his neck as his head rolled. “Hooo boy!” his brother’s voice proclaimed. That was the giveaway: the intonation, the tone, was all wrong.

Read it up there on AO3 or right under the cut, or check out more on the AU on @silvervictory​‘s page!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

That’s not him.

That’s not Shigeo.

He was sure he stopped breathing then.

Horrified, Ritsu stared at the being in front of him. Every instinct told him to run, hide, get out of there as fast as he can, but he couldn’t even blink if he wanted to. His stomach a hopeless bunch of knots, a cold sweat prickling his neck, Ritsu stood frozen to the pavement before something disturbingly unnatural.

His brother’s fingers drummed against his palm, and his brother’s palm ran over his neck as his head rolled. “Hooo boy!” his brother’s voice proclaimed. That was the giveaway: the intonation, the tone, was all wrong.

“Isn’t this a development!” the not-Mob continued, beginning to hop lightly on the balls of his feet. The smirk was still present on his brother’s face. “I feel…. Period! I feel! Thank God for that!” It laughed, too loudly and too long. “What a time to be alive, right, Ritsu?”

The foreign cadence behind his name broke his trance. “Wh—” Ritsu’s voice caught. For a moment, he focused only on his pulse pounding in his ears. “You’re not my brother,” was all he managed.

His brother’s eyes narrowed with his grin. “You don’t know that,” it said simply, red eyes shining as it mocked him.

Ritsu tried his best to ignore that. The vigor to his voice was returning, painstakingly slowly. “Who the hell are you?”

“Oh, you don’t remember me?” it complained, feigning hurt. His brother’s arms crossed, fingers continuing to tap against his sleeve. “It couldn’t’ve been that long ago. And you never did thank me for getting your New Year’s money back, you know.”

The money. The students. The accident. Ritsu was going to throw up.

“Ah, there it is; see, you do remember me!”

This time, though…. It wasn’t a void of energy. It looked too much like…. “What are you?” Ritsu pleaded.

For a while, it just smirked. If he wasn’t already uncomfortable, Shigeo smiling like that for so long would’ve done it.

“‘What,’ you say?” it relented, finally, finally looking away at something other than the disturbed teen. “Hmm. A bit of everything, I suppose. It depends. I think now, I’m feeling like I’m….” His brother’s hand curled into a loose fist. They watched it tighten until Ritsu could see it shake from feet away.

“Animosity,” it declared, stretching out the word as if seeing how it sounded on his tongue. “Animosity. But put simply—” their eyes met again, “—I’m a god.”

“Wha— My brother…a god?”

“No, not him.” His brother’s head tilted back, it looking down his nose at him in an even more pretentious stance. “Me.”

Ritsu stared. This…entity, this self-proclaimed divine being, distinguished itself as being separate from Shigeo, and yet it took the liberty of posing his body against his will like it was expecting praise?

Ritsu could be scared later.

“You? A god?” In a sudden rush of fury, he grabbed a fistful of its stolen uniform, pulling his brother out of that pose. “Not one that I’ll ever acknowledge, you can be damn sure about that! You think you can possess some poor kid, use your power to hurt and destroy, and then hide away behind an unwilling scapegoat? What kind of god is that?! Not one that deserves its powers, I’ll give you that! Shigeo’s a better god than you’ll ever be!” He heard the snap of psychic static throw something behind him, seeping through his control from his seething anger. He focused on his brother’s eyes, trying to look past them at whatever perched there, and growled, “Get the fuck out of him.”

At last, that smirk disappeared, only to be replaced all too quickly with a scowl. Ritsu felt the pressure change and let go, an instant before it was engulfed in black. Pure energy crackled and roared, devoid of the light keeping his brother in view, letting the thing inside him to the forefront. It’s blinding white eyes narrowed.

You want to try that again?

Even though it didn’t speak, Ritsu understood. It was reminding him. The focus of his nightmares since childhood. Adrenaline immediately running dry, he stood frozen to the spot, the realization that his newfound psychic powers still wouldn’t be enough to protect him dashing his bravado.

Ritsu swallowed. He didn’t reply.

The figure glared at him a few seconds more before the darkness dissipated, color melting into view as his brother’s hair settled down into a more ruffled version of its usual form. A couple of masses thumped onto the ground around them, reminding him of the unconscious delinquents still lying about. Briefly, the younger hoped it would actually be his brother there.

“Yeah, didn’t think so,” it said as if it were holding back from ripping him apart. It crossed its arms again, fists gripping the fabric of his brother’s sleeves this time. “Don’t talk about what you don’t know, kid.”

Oh, Ritsu didn’t like this one bit. He knew he was nothing compared to Mob, but this—this apparent deity—put Mob to shame. His instincts pleaded with him now to escape and never have to face it again, but he knew for a fact that he would never forgive himself if he did. Even though he was afraid—and shit, was he scared—someone had to do something while Mob was… Mob was….

Not-Mob—this Animosity—sighed vociferously; Ritsu realized they had been glaring at each other during his inner debate. “This is going nowhere,” it grumbled. It threw its arms open. “Hey, ‘kay, I look like Shigeo now. Better?”

“Oh, fuck you,” he hissed. “Why don’t you actually bring Shigeo back now? Where is he?”

His brother’s arms swung down as it rolled its eyes. “God, I don’t know, he just didn’t want to come back, alright?”

“Didn’t want to?” A twinge of panic. “What did you do to him?”

“Kid, stop antagonizing me all the time!” It pinched the bridge of its nose, rubbing under its dark eyes. Was Mob that tired an hour ago? “Look, he’s fine. He’s here. He’s just not on the surface. All of this probably seems like a dream to him right now, and for some reason, he doesn’t want to wake up. Whenever he does decide to spare me from your whining, I’ll be gone.”

“Why can’t you get lost now?”

“Do you really want your brother in a coma?”

Ritsu paused. No, he didn’t want that, but was it really worse than having this asshole of an entity in control? It could cause trouble, but conversely, with the right precautions, it might not, while Mob being in a coma definitely would be an issue….

He sighed. He couldn’t do this alone, at the very least. “If Shigeo has to come back on his own, then we can’t help him if he’s comatose,” he begrudgingly concluded. It started to smirk in victory before Ritsu added, “But if he can wake up whenever, you’re going to continue doing everything he normally does so our family doesn’t catch on.”

The frown was back. “Why the hell would I do that?” it demanded.

“It’s what Shigeo would do,” Ritsu stated, hoping his voice sounded authoritative, or at least steady. “Starting with his shift at Reigen’s office.”

It was going to retort, but it stopped and considered the statement. A smile, smaller this time, twisted his brother’s lips. “Yeah…,” it mused. “Yeah, alright, then. I’ll go pay this Arataka Reigen a visit.”

A new presence made itself known at that point, something they both felt before they saw. Over his brother’s shoulder, Ritsu saw a wisp of bright green whip around the corner toward them. “Oi, what’s up with you two?” Dimple shouted. “You should be at Reigen’s, but instead you’re loitering in the middle of—”

His brother’s body turned. The ghost blanched. A curse was barely out of his lips before he spun on a dime and darted out of Dodge without hesitation. It wasn’t fast enough; he shot back and into its outstretched hand, enveloped in a constricting aura.

“Well, hey there, bucko!” it exclaimed with false glee, eyes open a touch too wide. “Never really got the time to talk, you and I, even though you’ve been by to visit oh so many times. It’s like you think you live here!”

Its hand closed, squeezing its prey more and more like it was trying to pop a balloon. “Except you don’t.” His brother’s voice was low and distorted. “And nobody. Uses my vessel. But me. Got it?”

Dimple squeaked in agreement. Ritsu never thought he would see such a look of pure dread on that ugly face.

Its grip tightened again. “You can drop the whole ‘god’ complex, too. Shigeo doesn’t need that when he’s got me around.”

It let go, watching him immediately disappear behind Ritsu. It’s eyes—Shigeo’s eyes—were dangerous.

That smirk was back as it cracked his brother’s knuckles and walked past them. “Come, then, brother, pal. It seems I’m late for work.”

They watched him walk. For all intents and purposes, from behind, they could almost believe it was Mob in those shoes. For just a moment.

Then its foot hit a particularly heavy chunk of rubble, and the profanity coming out of Mob’s mouth would’ve made him faint.

Dimple laid a hand on Ritsu’s shoulder. “God help us all.”

For once, Ritsu couldn’t agree more.