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maxiemumdamage · 3 days ago

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To me Azula is a tragic character specifically because while she was failed by everyone around her, it also would’ve been unreasonable to expect any of them to save her. Among those who wanted to help her, practically no one had the understanding or power to change her. They couldn’t get Azula to stop being cruel, in large part because they couldn’t change the circumstances that nurtured her worst traits.

Except Ozai obviously. Fuck him. He’s why Azula is like that to begin with. But the power and sway he has over her also made it borderline impossible for anyone else to make her change.

(MUCH more to say about this here:)

People tend to blame Ursa for Azula’s behavior first and foremost. And…yes, Ursa was pretty clearly closer with Zuko than Azula. But of course she was! Ursa’s son was constantly abused and degraded by his father — as per the comics, Ozai outright told Ursa he would do this for all of Zuko’s life in order to hurt his wife. Zuko needed Ursa’s support to have any sense of self-esteem and frankly, for his own safety.

Zuko needed his mother just to be safe and not be alone, while Azula needed her mother for moral education. Even if you don’t think Ursa’s priorities were the right ones…choosing her daughter over her son might not have been enough to change Azula anyway. It would’ve been devastating for Zuko without necessarily improving Azula in any meaningful way, because Ursa didn’t actually have the authority to meaningfully oppose her husband.

By the time it would’ve been evident that Azula had a super skewed moral compass as a result of being around Ozai so much…she still would’ve been like, eight years old max, for one thing. Little kids say and do a lot of fucked up shit, because they don’t understand morals or the world by and by large. For another, once it was obvious she was parroting horrible stuff from her father, Azula also would’ve had no respect for her mother. So what could Ursa do, by the time she realized she needed to do something?

We see in flashbacks that Ursa tried, even when her child didn’t respect her and she couldn’t enforce meaningful consequences for the bad behavior Ozai rewarded. Ursa scolded Azula for saying cruel things. She made Zuko spend time with his sister, rewarding Azula for any moments of kindness or cooperation (even when Azula was just faking it to get an opportunity to bully Zuko and Mai). She tried.

As for Ursa leaving…uh, if she hadn’t, Zuko would have died. He absolutely, 100% would have died if his mother hadn’t cut a deal with Ozai to put him on the throne in exchange for disappearing. She made Azulon and his ultimatum go away because that was necessary to protect Zuko.

Ursa did fail to morally guide her daughter. But to do otherwise would’ve been to neglect her son, then to sign Zuko’s death warrant. I’m not gonna pretend she didn’t choose one kid over the other — I just also think choosing to support the kid whom she knew her husband was mistreating wasn’t necessarily the wrong call.

And even if it was…choosing differently might not have done anything. Because Ursa could only offer affection, while Ozai wielded both the carrot and a stick. Azula would’ve likely still fawned to the more powerful abuser, still learned harmful behavior, and still internalized that her cruelty was not just necessary but acceptable. Rewarded, even.

There’s Iroh to mention as well. He admittedly had a lot more influence and ability to stand up to Ozai than Ursa did, but in fairness…that wasn’t his kid. He had his own son to worry about, and then he was grieving, and then…he chose Zuko too.

For the same reason as Ursa, I don’t quite blame him for it — Zuko needed help much more immediately. When Zuko was banished, Iroh did the right thing by going with. But I do think those in-between years in the palace were a time Iroh (still mourning, but still) had the chance to influence Azula a little. But…

…I’ve seen a post theorizing that Iroh dislikes his niece because she reminds him of who he used to be, and…I think that’s very likely. They’re the golden children of their fathers, the firebending prodigies, the conquerors of Ba Sing Se.

I also think it’s because he and Azula are so alike that he has no idea how to help her.

Iroh didn’t have a moral revelation about the Fire Nation’s conquest, not until it cost him his son’s life. His realization about war being wrong, subsequently becoming more worldly and gaining respect for other cultures, it happened only when the Fire Nation’s system stopped working for him personally. So he wouldn’t know how to make Azula see that system as wrong, to make her change for the better as he did. He can’t recreate his own reasons for changing.

Also, quite frankly — Iroh barely to not at all managed to turn Zuko off the Fire Nation’s propaganda. Zuko always had morals, sure, but he did not have any semblance of the idea that “war (of conquest) is wrong” or even “wow my father is abusive and terrible to me personally” after three years of travel with Iroh. Being an Earth Kingdom refugee and meeting the Gaang was when Zuko really changed. And I think Zuko (who got his face burned off at 13) would probably be a much easier egg to crack on the redemption front than Azula (for whom the cruel and abusive system has always worked, she’s fine with it as long as she’s the one on top).

I also am briefly going off topic here to say…I like the idea of Azula redemption. I agree that she is sometimes condemned too strongly, to harshly, given that she is just a teenage girl. But her youth doesn’t take away from her cruelty. She is someone who knowingly does wrong, because she sees it as a way to protect herself. A meaningful redemption arc for her has to acknowledge that, not just sweep it under the rug by claiming she always loved her victims.

Because yes, Azula’s loved ones who are of a similar age to her but have less power are in fact her victims. They love her, she loves them, but she does hurt them all the same. That also has to be acknowledged in the quest to redeem her.

Zuko and Mai and Ty Lee all flatly have no power over Azula — she has power over them, in fact, thanks to her status as Ozai’s favored child and just as a princess, respectively. Ursa and Iroh were adults who at least wouldn’t be hurt by trying to help Azula, but for her brother and friends? Changing her could be dangerous.

Zuko is nominally safer as the Crown Prince, but…he’s awful at politics and their infinitely more powerful Dad blatantly favors Azula. He can’t stand up to her. And the one time were shown that Ursa, trying to correct Azula’s cruelty, made her son play nice, feels cruel to Zuko. He gets hurt and humiliated for no reason but for his sister’s sake entertainment and (failed) moral education. It’s not his job to redeem his sister.

And then there’s Mai and Ty Lee, who may be nobles, but still can’t do anything to Princess Azula. In fact, even before Mai or Ty Lee have done anything, Azula is threatening their family and bodily safety, respectively, as a loyalty test. They cannot challenge Azula in any meaningful way without endangering their lives and safety. It’s not fair to expect them to fix her.

Who does that leave that Azula is even close to? The Gaang literally know nothing of her but “Zuko’s sister who keeps trying to kill us.” None of the Fire Nation Generals or Nobles will want her to change. Azulon rewarded her bad behavior almost as hard as Ozai. Lo and Li, maybe, but for all they’re the wise old ladies Azula takes advice from, Azula doesn’t actually interact with them very often.

Azula is a tragic character because, while she was a child who should have been redeemed and had better, it makes perfect sense she didn’t. No one could change her. No one could offer a sweeter carrot or bigger stick than Ozai. And by the time he was out of the picture, the story was over.

#atla analysis #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #azula atla #azula avatar #ursa atla #iroh atla #ozai atla #max.txt

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hungermakesmonsters · 3 days ago

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(It Is) What It Is

Chapter One

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : I'm so excited to finally be able to share this one! Hope you all enjoy it!

Master List

Chapter One

Just smile and, eventually, you’ll find your reason to smile.

It was something your mother had always told you as a child, sadness filling her eyes every time a frown dared to cross your little face. You grew up believing it was a sage piece of wisdom, but the older you got, the more it started to seem like nothing more than an unhealthy coping mechanism.

But, still, you smiled.

If nothing else, you’d come to learn that it was easier to force a smile to your lips and pretend that the whole world didn’t feel like it was going to hell around you. Especially between the hours of 8am and 5pm.

Every morning was the same; you got up, got ready, and took the subway to work. You went out of your way to be a polite and conscientious commuter, taking up as little space as possible and making sure no one but you could hear the music playing through your headphones. Sure, your polite behaviour did nothing to stop you being shoved and elbowed, nor did your example to be quiet convince any of the finance-bros to stop yelling into their phones right beside you, but at least it made you feel like you weren’t an asshole.

Even on the street, on your two block walk to the office, you were mindful; never walking too fast or cutting in front of anyone, and never slowing down and inconveniencing anyone walking behind you.

For all intents and purposes, you were just there. You existed but you were never an obstacle or cause for annoyance. A side-character, an NPC in someone else’s story, no delusions in your mind about being the main character.

God, what a sad and boring story it would be if you were the main character.

As per your usual morning routine, you stopped off at the little independent coffee shop across the street from Anvil. The Bean Grinder - a name that had earned some ridicule from your boss when you’d admitted to going there. (‘The Bean Grinder? It sounds more like a dating app’ he’d said, grinning that ridiculous grin.) But, after a few mornings of steaming hot Americanos and fresh pastries, he’d grudgingly had to admit that he was a fan.

So, it had become the norm every weekday, first thing in the morning and, again at lunch times, if you didn’t have time to pack a lunch for yourself. And, now, six months into your job with Anvil, the baristas knew you well enough to have your order ready to go - though, today, you had to inconvenience them by asking for an extra coffee.

Coffees and pastries precariously balanced in your hands, you crossed the street, shuddering at the ice cold wind and moving as fast as you dared towards the office. Once in the foyer, you began to awkwardly fumble for your keycard, when a hand appeared, relieving you of the tray of coffees.

“Thanks Carl,” you said as you rummaged through your pockets. “How are the kids? Did Lyra’s clarinet recital go well?”

The security guard beamed, his face lighting with a genuine warmth for you. You’d always tried to make an effort with the people you worked with, never knowing when you might need a favour - even if that favour was just someone to hold a tray of drinks while you found your keycard.

“She did amazing. I recorded the whole thing, I’ll have to show you when you’ve got a minute.”

Smiling, you told him how much you’d like that as you finally pulled out your keycard and tapped it against the reader. You stepped through the barrier and thanked Carl as he handed you the tray of drinks, and headed for the elevator.

As you stepped onto the lift, you took a breath and let your smile falter, enjoying the briefest moment of respite before you’d have to spend the rest of the day forcing your happy, professional demeanour.

And, as it turned out, your brief reprieve was even briefer than expected as a hand stopped the elevator doors from sliding shut and a man stepped on.

“Good morning, Mr Castle,” you said, bright and perky as always. Exactly what was expected of you.

He bristled slightly and looked about ready to remind you that he’d prefer to be called Frank but seemed to think better of it. After six months, you assumed that he’d finally started to understand that you were more comfortable referring to him as Mr Castle.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled in his usual, gruff tone.

The elevator doors slid shut and, for a few seconds, you were left thinking that the entire ride to the top floor would be spent in silence, but then you remembered the coffees in your hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you,” you said, indicating the large takeout cup at the front of the tray. “Large Americano with an extra shot, cream, but no sugar, right?”

He looked at you with a mixture of shock and confusion that had you wondering if you’d sprouted a second head for a few seconds. Unlike Mr Russo, he didn’t have a PA and he barely even bothered the secretary who was assigned to him, so he always seemed a little taken aback whenever you did anything for him.

“You got me a coffee?” He asked, taking the coffee from you and lifting it to his nose to sniff.

“I know you and Mr Russo have a meeting scheduled first thing,” you said, shrugging, “and he won’t want to start until he’s had his morning coffee and pastry, so...”

That got a laugh from him, a rare sound that always seemed like it had sharp edges, but a laugh nonetheless, so you decided to mark it down as a win.

“Yeah, he’s never been much of a morning person.”

That was something you could agree with. Billy Russo was a man of moods and, while it had initially taken you some time to learn his routines and figure out when he tended to be more approachable, you’d learned your way around him now.

That was something you could agree with, but you’d quickly learned your way around the man and his moods, knowing what times and which days he was more approachable, and doing your best to keep your head down the rest of the time. It wasn’t difficult, even if Billy Russo was considered difficult by a lot of people who knew him.

“He have you fetchin’ coffee for him every day?” Mr Castle asked, though you couldn’t tell if he was just trying to make conversation or if he was genuinely curious.

You offered up another shrug. “It’s part of the job. Besides, I stop off for coffee on my way in anyway, at least this way I get to put it on the corporate card.”

Fortunately, the stilted conversation was short lived and the elevator doors slid open. You gave him a look before glancing towards Mr Russo’s office door.

“I’ll go check if he’s ready for you,” you said, pausing only to put your bag down and to shrug out of your coat at your desk.

You took a second to smooth down your blouse and skirt, and to make sure your hair wasn’t in too much of a state from the wind, before grabbing his coffee and the bag of pastries. Your knock on his door was met with the usual grumbled ‘come in’ and, as you stepped into his office, you forced the smile back to his lips.

Not that he saw your smile.

His back was to you, his eyes fixed out of the window, looking at the city - or maybe it was the weather that had his attention. You didn’t ask, figuring that it was really none of your business.

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult.

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”

Mr Russo’s gaze softened a fraction when he noticed your obvious discomfort, and he opted to remain silent instead of continuing with all of the questions you were certain he still had. Some part of you even dared to feel bad, almost wanting to tell him that it was okay, that he could continue to question you but that you didn’t have any answers that he might want to hear.

The truth was, while you had your opinions about his social life, when it came to his work and to his company, Billy Russo was nothing short of a consummate professional, and it felt like a shame that anyone might discount his work because of how he liked to spend his free time.

“Thank you for your input,” Billy said, finally dismissing you. “I’d like my lunch at one today, and could you forward any updates to my schedule to me?”

You gave the standard ‘yes, Mr Russo. Of course, Mr Russo’ and quickly made your exit, holding in a sigh of relief until his office door was shut behind you and you were safely back at your desk.

You opened your laptop to start your day, immediately disappointed to find that your own coffee had started to go cold while you’d been in Mr Russo’s office. It wasn’t the first time, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, but you’d always just found something so depressing about a lukewarm latte first thing in the morning.

At least you were fairly certain that the detailed notes you’d made on each of the files would be enough to keep him from needing to solicit your opinion again, so you should be able to get through your daily mountain of emails and adjustments to his schedule before having to think about his lunch.

And that was the best part of your job; that you could lose yourself in it. It was nice, easy for the most part, now that you’d settled into a rhythm - the only difficult part of the job was the man himself. In the past, you’d struggled with office jobs, always wanting to be everything to everyone and ending up taking on far more than you could handle.

Not that you were a pushover - no, you didn’t like to think of yourself in those exact terms - you just liked it when everyone around you was happy and content, because god only knew you had your own problems to deal with.

But, thankfully, things were different at Anvil. The management floor was Mr Russo’s private kingdom and, most days, it was just the two of you up there. And, on good days, it was just you. And, because of that, you were separate, able to work without interruption. Oh, sure, you still spoke to people, still got to know them, like Carl in security, but you were far enough removed that no one came to you asking for help or wanting to vent their issues.

In fact, being Mr Russo’s PA made a lot of people wary about asking you for anything because they knew just how important your time was.

All in all, the only thing you really had to contend with were Mr Russo’s moods and they didn’t stress you out nearly as much as they used to. You’d even go as far as saying that, for the first time in years, you were in a job that felt secure, safe. And that was something that mattered to you far more than you’d ever dare admit out loud.

After about an hour, Mr Castle left Mr Russo’s office but, instead of heading straight for the elevator, he approached your desk, causing you to automatically sit a little straighter.

“You okay?” He asked. “Know that probably wasn’t the most comfortable for you in there.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you quickly answered,” it’s all part of the job. I just -”

About to say something completely unadvised and unprofessional, you barely managed to stop yourself. But it was too late, he fixed you with a questioning look and it was clear he was trying to fight back a smile while he decided if you’d break under interrogation.

(And, yes, you absolutely would. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d crumple like a house of cards if you were placed under extreme questioning.)

“You what?” He prompted.

The only thing keeping you from panic was the fact that he didn’t sound angry or annoyed, just curious. He’d never heard you speak out of turn before and he seemed a little excited at the prospect.

Your cheeks started to heat and you bit your lip for a second.

“I just -” you glanced nervously towards the office door, making sure it was shut before continuing, “- well, I just always assumed that he knew how people saw him. Not that it’s my place, because I don’t -”

He cut off your attempt to - what? Apologise? Put a more professional spin on things?

“He does and he doesn’t,” he said, offering a shrug. “That’s the problem with Bill; he cares about appearances but he always forgets that sometimes he has a different idea of how a rich guy should be than people like the Van Der Koy’s.”

Cryptic.

Cryptic and entirely unhelpful.

Though it fit well with what you actually know about your boss. Sure, you could usually guess when he was in a bad mood and when he wanted to be left alone, but as a person he was as much of an enigma to you as anyone. Fortunately, knowing and understanding the inner workings of Billy Russo was not necessary for you to do your job.

“‘s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he continued, “either he’ll try to go for the VDK contract and end up wastin’ everyone’s time, or he’ll take your advice and focus on contracts he can actually get.”

You nodded, knowing it wasn’t really your place to voice an opinion on the matter. As Mr Castle said, you’d already done your part.

He gave you a nod before turning and starting towards the elevator, only to pause after a couple of steps and glance back.

“Those bear claws -”

“From The Bean Grinder across the street,” you answered the unasked question through the laugh that had managed to bubble up from seemingly nowhere.

“Thanks. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

Once he was gone, you returned to your work and spent the rest of the morning scheduling and rescheduling meetings for the coming month. Then it was time to order lunch and, because Mr Russo hadn’t stated a preference, it was up to you to decide for him. You weren’t sure of his mood since you hadn’t seen him since leaving his office hours before, so you decided to go for something safe, something he’d enjoy and that would improve his mood if he was still feeling sore about the Van Der Koy’s.

Spaghetti carbonara and tiramisu for dessert. A tried and tested combination.

Less than twenty minutes later, you had his lunch in hand and were at his office door, knocking lightly and waiting to be called in.

He was at his desk, the files you’d prepared still in front of him, the VDK file with its prominent red tag right at the top of the pile.

“I’ve got your lunch,” you said brightly, quickly starting to unpack his lunch.

He watched you with a strange sort of curiosity he’d never shown you before, his lips pulling into a smile when he noticed the tiramisu.

“Trying to make up for something?” He asked.

Despite his playful tone and the way he was smiling at you, the question had a nervous sort of tension filling you. You shot him a questioning look but couldn’t quite form the words to respond.

“You always bring me dessert when you think I’m in a bad mood,” he continued.

There was no keeping the confused shock from your face, just like there was no taming the wild thumping of your heart. In all the time you’d been working for him, you’d never once stopped to consider that he knew exactly what you were doing.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” He asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

You were speechless and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, all you could think about was how his spaghetti carbonara was starting to get cold. (And, from where you were standing it smelled far too delicious to waste.)

“I just -” you swallowed awkwardly, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat, “- well, it’s my job to make sure you’re happy isn’t it? Am - am I in trouble?”

Surely not. Surely he couldn’t punish you for going out of your way to try and make his life easier, right? Your forced happy facade almost dropped and gave way to the panic that was starting to claw beneath your ribs, but your face remained a hopefully unreadable mask.

“In trouble? God, no,” he shook his head. “I’m just - what I’m trying to say is that you’re clearly good at reading people. At reading me.”

“Oh.”

What else could you even say to any of that? Did he even want you to say anything? It wasn’t like you were doing anything manipulative or nefarious. All you were doing was keeping him happy so your job was easier.

You almost breathed a sigh of relief when his attention dropped to his food, and you started to hope you’d be able to go back to your desk to try and forget any of this weirdness had happened. But, as he lifted his fork, his eyes caught yours again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Mr Russo.”

“Do you agree with what Frank said earlier?” He asked before taking a bite of his spaghetti.”Do you think the women I date send the wrong sort of message?”

“Oh, uh -”

The shocked little noises slipped out before you could stop yourself. All you could do was stare at him for a few seconds, wondering what you’d done in a past life to deserve the uncomfortable day that you were having.

“Hmm?” He prompted through a mouthful of pasta.

“I thought -” you forced a breath, “- I just assumed that you were going to ask me something... something more related to my actual job?”

Something about your obvious discomfort seemed to tickle him.

“I’d argue that if you have insight into why Anvil might potentially lose out on a massive contract that it would fall within the scope of your job,” he countered. When you didn’t answer straight away, he continued; “so should I take your silence to mean you agree with Frank?”

“No, that’s not -” you hesitated, trying to find the most professional way to answer, “- I don’t agree with everything he said.”

“No? Care to elaborate?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair to call a woman a bimbo just because she likes to wear expensive clothes and go to parties,” you said flatly. “And it’s really not my job to have opinions on how you spend your evenings.”

“But you do think it gives the wrong impression to people like the Van Der Koy’s?”

“The Van Der Koy’s built the VDK chain on traditional values, they avoid controversy and anything that will tarnish the VDK name, it’s what they’re known for. It’s their professional reputation,” you explained, forcing an awkward shrug. “And you’re - well, you’re not subtle. You make a scene wherever you go, whether you want to or not. Half the society gossip blogs have stopped asking who you’re dating and only concern themselves with who you’re fucking.”

You could feel your cheeks burning hotter with every word. You didn’t want to have to say any of it and, honestly, it was making you feel awful, but you were starting to realise that he really didn’t understand how he was perceived. But, of course, he didn’t - he was rich and attractive, and while many people might want to write him off because of it, there were just as many who accepted and wanted that side of him.

It just seemed that this was the first time he was hearing a no that he couldn’t throw money at or change with his smart mouth.

“So, you’re saying I should settle down and clean up my act if I want to convince them to take me seriously and offer Anvil their security contract?”

You let slip an exhausted sigh, feeling like he was only hearing half of what you were saying to him. “I’m saying that it’s probably a waste of time to even try at this point. The other files I -”

“Thank you for your input, it’s been very informative,” he interrupted, not caring about the other files or potential clients now that he had VDK in his sights. “And, thank you for my lunch - I really do appreciate everything that you do for me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Quickly, you started towards the door, desperate to get out of there before he could ask your opinion on anything else. You held your breath all the way back to your desk, the burning in your lungs giving you the dreadful confirmation that all of that had really just happened and you weren’t having some bizarre, anxiety induced dream.

Fortunately, for the rest of the day, you were left alone. He had a couple of brief meetings in the afternoon that had him out of the office and, when he returned, he seemed too lost in thought to cause you any more awkwardness.

Bu, as you started to pull your coat on, getting ready to leave for the day, he all but burst out of his office like a man possessed. There was a nervous sort of energy about him that you hadn’t witnessed before, and it was more than enough to set you on edge.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Proposition? Your stomach automatically started to tie itself in knots at the word.

“What kind of proposition?” You asked cautiously, already sensing that nothing good was going to come from whatever he had to say.

“I want to take you out. On a date, just -”

“What? No - no, that’s not -” the words started to clumsily fall from your lips.

A weird panic quickly took hold of you and you couldn’t rightly say why. What had inspired it? What had suddenly changed?

You didn’t want to be one of the women he dated, you didn’t want to be on his arm one minute and then kicked to the curb the next. What had you done to make him believe that you were worth that sort of treatment?

Not to mention the fact that it was entirely unprofessional and it would make it impossible for you to keep your job. A job that you happened to like.

“No-no-no, not like that,” he said quickly, almost sounding as panicked as you felt (and that didn’t exactly help you feel better). “Not like - I don’t mean for real.”

Oh.

Suddenly, your reaction seemed very silly and your panic was quickly replaced by confusion and an odd sense of numbness.

Of course Billy Russo didn’t want to take you - plain, boring you - on a real date.

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and shame at how easily you’d let yourself believe something so utterly ridiculous.

“Then -” you struggled to find your voice again, “- what are you suggesting?”

“To get the VDK contract I need to make the Van Der Koy’s see me differently -”

It was like being dropped into ice cold water. Though you doubted he was actively trying to insult you, you were insulted nonetheless. He wanted to use you to rehabilitate his image because, unlike the other women in his life, you wouldn’t turn heads or cause drama. You were just you, plain and safe, average and inoffensive.

Inconsequential.

“You mean you want to lie to them? Pretend that you’ve settled down?” You asked (emphasis on the word settled) and shook your head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”

“I’ll pay you,” he added, almost managing to sound desperate. “Five hundred thousand for six months if Anvil gets the contract.”

Your jaw almost dropped and your heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

It was a lot of money, money that you really needed. It was almost enough to make you agree. Almost.

“Okay, just - let’s go back a couple of steps,” you said, still not sure what you felt about any of it. “You want to pay me to pretend to date you for six months just so you can win a contract?”

“Well, yeah, but it sounds sleazy when you say it like that.”

“Is there a way to explain it that doesn’t sound sleazy?”

Billy paused for a moment, clearly thinking about it. “You’re my PA, just think of it as assisting me out of office hours for overtime pay?”

That did make it sound better - not by much, and not enough to soothe your bruised ego.

“So, what? We’d pretend to date and if Anvil gets the contract we just break-up and go back to normal?” You asked, as you struggled in vain to wrap your head around the absurd idea.

“I’ll admit, there are a few things I’ve not entirely thought out, but if you -”

“No,” you said suddenly, coming to your decision. “I’m sorry Mr Russo, I can’t do that. I really don’t want to have to lie to that many people.”

He looked ready to argue, to try and convince you but that look quickly faded and he shrugged.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “It probably wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

Again, ouch.

“Right, well, if that’s all...” you trailed off, glancing longingly towards the elevator.

“Of course, sorry for keeping you.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into his office, closing the door behind him, and you didn’t waste any time heading to the elevator and getting out of the building as quickly as possible.

The next hour passed in something of a daze, stopping off to grab some groceries on the way home and having to listen to more loud and obnoxious finance-bros on the subway before you finally made it back to your apartment building.

Given the sort of day you were having, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that your mailbox was full of bills, but there was one in particular that caused your stomach to drop; a notice from Saint Martin’s Care Facility, informing you that their prices were going up.

It was enough to have you reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring yourself a very large glass as you sat down and went over your finances, trying to find a way to afford your brother's care that didn’t involve having to leave your apartment for somewhere cheaper or move him to another care facility. It was the same thing year after year but, this year, the price hike seemed particularly egregious.

You spend hours going over bills, wondering if cancelling Netflix or downgrading your phone contract would help. But, of course, it wouldn’t.

Your brother’s care had been your responsibility since you turned eighteen and, little by little, you’d managed to scrape together enough to give him the life that he deserved in a place you knew that he would be well cared for. You wouldn’t let anything change that.

After your third glass of wine, you started to allow yourself to think about Mr Russo’s offer, wondering if it would really be so terrible - and, if it was terrible, would you be able to endure it long enough to get paid?

Could you really afford to turn him down when there was so much at stake?

The next day, you woke with a headache, but also with a resolute idea of what you needed to do (because it definitely was a need and not a want). Your day started the same as it always did; an uncomfortable subway ride, a stop off at The Bean Grinder, then up to Mr Russo’s office.

He was already sitting at his desk, the VDK file still on top of the stack. He barely even looked at you and you weren’t sure if it was because he was busy with something or because he felt the same level of awkwardness about yesterday as you did.

Placing his coffee down, you lingered, trying to find the words while your cheeks started to warm.

Finally, he seemed to notice you just standing there and turned his attention to you, frowning.

“Is there something you need?” He asked.

“I - I’ve reconsidered your offer,” you said, hating yourself for letting it come to this.

“Oh?”

You could tell that he wanted some sort of reason or explanation for your sudden change of heart, but you weren’t prepared to give it; your brother was none of his business. So, you simply nodded, telling him all he needed to know - that he didn’t need to know anything at all.

“That is, if the offer’s still on the table?” You added awkwardly.

“It is,” he said, his lips pulling into a wide grin. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? You want to start tonight?”

Fuck. What had you just gotten yourself into?

A/N : That doesn't count as a cliffhanger!!! 😅 I hope you all enjoy the slightly different starting dynamic between reader and Billy with this one, I wanted to have them on good professional terms to start with to make it a lot more fun later on. I've not got much else to say since all of this chapter is just set up for what's to come.

Also anyone that submitted a request for my 500 follower celebration, I'm still slowly working through them, I just had to take a couple of days to make sure this chapter was ready on time!

As always, thanks so much for reading! I should be updating this every fic every Friday around 730pm GMT.

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @intothesoul

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #(ii)wii ff

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alex51324 · 1 day ago

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You're right; this was meant to be contexualized by another post I made, about how Chaos Is the Point, and attention and outrage are finite resources. But this post ended up having a much bigger reach, so a lot of people are seeing it who didn't see the other one.

To summarize:

Because no one can live at DefCon 5 all the time, we need to be thoughtful about distinguishing between "Trump's back on his bullshit," "This is a real actual thing that could happen if they get their shit together," and "holy shit, grab the kids and run." AKA, threat levels Piss Yellow, Spray-Tan Orange, and Blood Red.

A lot of Trump's EOs are simply publicity stunts. For instance, a few days ago there was a flurry of panic because he'd rescinded a Johnson-era Civil Rights EO, which had a similar name to the Act which codified it into law a few years later. With this EO, Trump was showing us (once again) who he is and what he values, but in terms of actual legal effect, it was nothing. Within hours of the headlines announcing this EO, there were clarifications about it all over the place.

Another batch are so blatantly illegal that, again within hours, there are well-grounded legal challenges in process, and often judicial stays on the order. The "funding pause" is one of these, as was Trump's attempt to limit birthright citizenship.

The first group are pure yellow, and the second are sort of orange-tinged, like the urine of a man who drinks only diet coke (and not enough of it). It's important for state governments, the ACLU, and other relevant stakeholders to respond quickly with those legal challenges, but as an ordinary person, you can kind of figure it's being handled, and just keep an eye out in case it explodes somehow, or the groups doing the legal challenges are asking for a show of support from the public.

The next concern level, solid orange, is a mix of orders where it isn't really clear what Trump was trying to do or if it means anything, or where the legality of the order is more open to interpretation, meaning that if it ends up in front of a Trump-friendly judge, it could make it through.

These are the ones where you want to pay attention as the situation develops, especially if the order would affect you personally. With this category, there maybe things for you to do, like writing/calling your congresspeople, attending protests, etc., or ways you can prepare for impact if you're in the affected group (or help others in the affected group prepare). As you follow the story, make sure you're using trusted sources of information, and share information when you're reasonably confident that it is accurate and useful.

And then red, of course, is where the effect could be immediate and drastic, and affected groups should prepare to take quick action. For instance, for federal employees, the "fork in the road" emails are dark orange bordering on red. It's pretty clear that Trump is attempting a purge of the civil service; it's not clear whether he's actually going to succeed, or what comes next if making ominous noises and trying to bribe people to quit doesn't work. If you are in the affected group on this one--that is, a federal employee--you should be actively planning & working with your union, others in your department, and/or legal representation to understand what's happening & what is best for you to do.

As the threat level tends toward Red, it remains important to seek accurate and useful information sources, but at the same time, events may be evolving quickly. Be conscious of how you use and pass along information in the "important if true" category: of course you don't want to be so cautious you miss the window to respond before the situation turns critical, but you also don't want to waste your and others' time with actions that are unnecessary or counterproductive.

It's a very normal and natural impulse, when things are scary, to want to sound the alarm and share the scary information as widely as possible, but overreacting can make it harder for people to pay attention to the most scary things.

Food for thought

#us politics #the felon-in-chief #i am a master of information science

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luvvictoria · 14 hours ago

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Just thinking about Experimental Combat Android!Ghost — a machine built for war, cold, precise, and lethal… until you come along and start making him glitch.

Android!Ghost – A classified military experiment. Ghost isn’t just a machine; he’s the machine. The most advanced combat android ever built, designed to be faster, stronger, and deadlier than any human soldier.

Android!Ghost - " Machines don’t feel." – That’s what they told you when you were assigned to work with him. You were supposed to monitor his efficiency, his combat skills—not question why he sometimes hesitates before pulling the trigger, or why his responses sound too… human.

Android!Ghost - The "Glitch" – At first, it’s subtle. Ghost starts reacting to you in ways he shouldn’t—his head tilting slightly when you laugh, lingering when you touch his armor to make adjustments. But then, it escalates. He shields you when he should be prioritizing the mission. His voice lowers when he speaks your name. His grip tightens when someone else gets too close.

Android!Ghost - "I was built to kill. Not to want." – Ghost isn’t supposed to feel things like possessiveness, protectiveness, or the deep pull in his circuits whenever you look at him like he’s more than a machine. And yet… he does.

Android!Ghost – What if he chooses to evolve? To overwrite his own code? To become something beyond what he was programmed to be—for you?

This could be SO good with a mix of tension, slow-burn, and that delicious dynamic of “machine built for destruction, but somehow, he only softens for you.” 😏 IDK IDK BUT LIKE THINK ABOUT THIS !!!

Android!Ghost is built like a war machine. Advanced nanotech alloy plating, reinforced joints, enhanced reflexes—he’s stronger, faster, and near-indestructible. The ultimate super-soldier.

Android!Ghost's voice is deep, modulated, and just slightly too perfect. There’s a smooth, synthetic quality to it—like a ghost of a real voice. But when he speaks your name, it sounds… softer. Less programmed.

Android!Ghost has no heartbeat. No warmth. But when he places a gloved hand against your chest, his fingers linger, pressing—as if he’s trying to understand what it means.

Android!Ghost can see in the dark, detect heat signatures, and process thousands of calculations in seconds. And yet… for some reason… he still watches you like he can’t predict you.

Android!Ghost's face is a blank metal mask with faintly glowing optics. But when he looks at you, his gaze lingers a little too long. His processors stall for half a second too much.

Android!Ghost who shouldn’t be protective. He was programmed to protect the mission—not individuals. And yet, when a bullet flies toward you, he’s in front of you before you can even react, taking the hit like it’s nothing.

Android!Ghost doesn’t breathe. But sometimes, you swear you hear something like a sigh—an artificial exhale when he’s near you. Like a machine trying to imitate what it once was.

Android!Ghost never questioned orders—until you. The first time you ask, “Are you okay?” after a mission, he hesitates. His AI stutters. “I do not require… concern.” But something in him doesn’t process that answer as correct.

Android!Ghost starts favoring your commands. Technically, you’re not his superior. But when you say, “Ghost, stand down,” he does—even when HQ is still yelling for him to attack.

Android!Ghost studies your expressions. You tell yourself it’s just a quirk in his AI, but when you frown, he tilts his head—adjusting. Learning. Like he wants to understand.

Android!Ghost recognizes your footsteps. Out of a whole base of soldiers, he knows when it’s you walking in. His systems pick up the pattern immediately—his synthetic muscles shifting, adjusting.

Android!Ghost's reactions to you are… different. You lightly smack his shoulder one day, jokingly, and his whole system lags for 0.4 seconds before rebooting.

Android!Ghost should not dream. And yet, there are nights when he powers down and reboots with data fragments he does not recognize—memories that feel too human.

Android!Ghost's grip is gentle with you—always. He could crush a skull with his bare hands. But when he touches you? He calibrates his strength to the softest pressure.

Android!Ghost never lets you walk into danger alone. He was not programmed for fear. But the thought of losing you makes something in his systems glitch—his servos locking up, refusing to let you go forward without him.

Android!Ghost's voice softens when he speaks to you. At first, you think it’s just your imagination. But no—his tone modulation shifts only for you.

Android!Ghost who one day, overrides his programming. The mission demands he leave you behind. But instead—he grabs you and runs. His directives be damned.

Android!Ghost chooses you over the mission. That’s when the military realizes: he’s defective.

Android!Ghost's creators want to reset him—to wipe whatever has made him too human. But he resists.

“You cannot take me from her.” His voice crackles. His systems struggle. But he fights back.

Android!Ghost goes rogue. And you? You’re the only person left in the world that he trusts.

I'M GOING FERAL WOHHHHH

#call of duty #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader

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cowboysanddragons23 · 3 days ago

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While the Van der Linde gang is an outlaw gang, it operates more as a cult:

-Zero tolerance for criticism and questions: Dutch can't stand when someone questions or doubts him (ex. When John starts questioning him at Clemens Point, Dutch tells him that doubting means the end, aka weakness and forces him to say "Yes, Dutch." or when Uncle calls him out in a humorous manner, he threatens to kill him under the guise of following the joke).

-A belief that former followers are always wrong for leaving and there is never a legitimate reason to leave: Javier and Bill call John and Arthur traitors for abandoning them and Dutch, even though it was clear that Dutch was losing his sanity, he was going to get them all killed and both of them were trying to salvage what's left of the gang, a train of thought that lasts even after the gang disbanded.

-Lack of meaningful financial disclosure regarding money: Dutch constantly prattles about the fact that they need more money and at one point, he hid a box of money in one of the gang's hideouts.

-Abuse of members: While Dutch is not physically abusive of members, he is an abuser of the psychological variant (ex. When Molly raises legitimate concerns about how he is ignoring her and not paying her attention, he always dismisses her as delusional, even outright saying "I never met a woman with so many needs.")

-Absolute authoritarianism without accountability: If there is one thing that Dutch shows the most is his inability to take responsibility for his actions (ex. When he blames John for being the reason why the Saint Denis Bank heist went wrong, accusing him of being a rat, even though the main reason it went wrong was because Dutch was too reckless with his robberies to the trolley station and the boat, along with his kidnapping and killing of Angelo Bronte, the most powerful man of Saint Denis).

-Unreasonable fears about the outside world that involve evil conspiracies and persecution: Dutch fears civilization because it represents everything he hates and instills very irrational fears amongst them (ex. When Dutch tells John the law chases them because the gang represents everything they fear, yet ironically, after the gang disbands, Tilly has a happy life married to a lawyer and John has a normal life as a member of society).

-Cult of personality: The most obvious one. Dutch is seen like a father and a messiah amongst the gang (ex. In Red Dead Redemption, John tells Reyes that Dutch saved him, Bill and Javier.)

-Illegal and dangerous behaviour: The van der Linde are a gang of outlaws at first, but they ended up becoming the Wild West equivalent of domestic terrorists, with their attacks on the Cornwall Train, the Saint Denis Bank, a US Army Train....

-Charismatic leader: Dutch oozes charisma anytime he speaks, albeit of the superficial kind that has an iron hand on the people of his gang, which Kieran lampshades.

-Us VS Them mentality: Dutch enforced a very black and white view about their enemies, even outright admits so when he killed Bronte ("It is us or him.").

-Isolation and love-bombing: Once again, Molly is the biggest victim of this, with Dutch charming her into going with him and making her feel isolated on the gang, in order for her to depend on him and him alone.

-Time and energy: In the camp, you are expected to upgrade Dutch's tent first before upgrading the rest of the camp. And Dutch demands that money is put on the box, yet he himself never contributes to the box.

#red dead redemption 2 #dutch van der linde #red dead redemption #john marston #arthur morgan #sadie adler #hosea matthews #tilly jackson #bill williamson #javier escuella #orville swanson #molly o'shea #susan grimshaw #charles smith #micah bell #abigail marston

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quokkaholic · 3 days ago

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Confession and Cuffs s.c

Warnings/tags: suggestive fluff, cop hate lol, cussing duh, y/n aggressively flirty low key would be harassment irl. Lightly edited

Synopsis: You are a notorious criminal that is very familiar with your local police force. Detained on a faulty warrant and interrogated for hours, you give them nothing but sass and harsh criticism. That is, until you meet Detective Seo.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

You remain in the same sterile interrogation room you have been in for hours, stainless steel chair bruising your tailbone and digging into your spine. With an adjustable lamp clamped to the edge of the table turned off, the lighting is dim but you can still see the reflective surface of the one way glass opposite you. Even though you are alone, and have been for a while, there is no mistaking the feeling of eyes on you monitoring and examining your every move, every breath, every blink. You feel like it has been at least an hour since the last officer was in here with you demanding a confession to a crime you, for once, didn’t commit; even if you had, you’d never spill your guts to them. The only reason you are here now, is they arrested you under the guise of a warrant out for not paying a speeding ticket you received years ago as a teen. You know for a fact you paid it and got it expunged from your record, but it was so long ago you no longer have proof of the transaction. On top of that, it's a Friday night so the records department won’t be up and running again until Monday. These pigs orchestrated the whole thing to get you in their custody, and you aren’t even the perpetrator in this case.

Since your arrest, it has been a revolving door of officers trying different tactics on you. They’ve made offers of food and lenient sentencing. Tried to coerce you to sell out your compatriots. The last guy practically just screamed at you for half an hour, voice screeching and droplets of spit flying from his red hot face, trying to scare out a confession, but all you could do was laugh. He must be new, you thought, despite being a criminal, you have gotten to know and are on decent terms with a lot of the more reasonable officers. After having to release you on the grounds of no evidence countless times, many of them have accepted that your actions tend to only harm other members of the seedy underbelly of the city.

That is the case for most of the force, but obviously not the next officer that walks in. You can tell by his demeanor that he is going for bad cop as he saunters in with an expression of disgust and accusation when he looks your way. He avoids eye contact, maybe because he wants you to feel lowly and beneath him, but it's more likely he knows you will see through his ruse if he lets you meet his gaze.

“We know it was you” he spits flipping through a folder labeled evidence that is without a doubt filled with blank pages. While you usually give ambiguous answers or simply remain silent, you’re over messing with the investigators at this point,

“Hmmm no you dont” you hum out matter of factly

“Quiet! We’ve got you this time,” he must be really committed to the bit, raising his voice and ordering you around.

“Really? What dirt do you have on me? Go on. I wanna see.”

“It's in the evidence storage for the night,”

“You don’t have photos in that conveniently marked folder you've got? If I’ve told you dipshits once, I've told you 100 times,” you pause to squint at the name badge on his chest,

“Skinner, I’m not your guy” shouting back to get the attention of the people that are without a doubt recording, before leaning back in the chair that feels like a bed of nails at this point. Not allowing your discomfort to show, you continue,

“You're a bad liar, Skinner. If you had something real I'd have been arrested for a real charge and not some backhanded bureaucratic nonsense. I’m done talking” your statement punctuated by the crossing of your arms over your chest. The goose bumps on your skin are impossible to ignore; it's a damn icebox in here, another tactic to get you to admit to this crime you played no part in. Despite your refusal to engage, he went on accusing you and shouting garbage before stomping out like a frustrated child.

A while later, you are beginning to doze off with your head resting on the frozen table, but the sound of the locks being opened shakes you from your drowsiness. In walks a hunk not in the typical uniform. He’s got on a white button up that hugs his thick arms so perfectly accentuating his toned form and a black vest over it and pressed black dress pants with a key ring and badge clipped to the belt. You turn to the mirror and attempt the make eye contact with the people on the other side before blurting out,

“Oh so we’re doing sexy cop now? That's new,” before looking back at the man entering the room. He puckers his lips and presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek trying to fight back a smirk while dropping his file on the table across from you.

“I’m Detective Seo. I’ve been assigned to this case, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions” He says with confidence but politely as he pulls out the chair opposite to you and takes a seat.

“You and every other pig in this pen.” You say coldly before allowing your grimace to shift into a cheeky grin, “Don’t worry, I can kid around with them. We’re all close; I practically know them all by name” feigning sincerity in your tone.

“I bet you do” he lets the words slowly fall from his mouth as he mocks you for your seemingly endless unofficial record, opening the thick folder,

“I’ve checked out your file”

“Oooh a fan I assume?” you question, heightening your tone to speak more sweetly staring up at him through your lashes. He looms over you flicking on the table lamp. If he wasn’t so jaw droppingly handsome, you'd be irked by his attempt at asserting dominance over you. You like the look of him above you, but it ends all too soon as he pulls out the chair on the other side of the table and gracefully and controlled lowers himself into the seat drawing your gaze to his muscles straining against the fabric of his button down.

“You could say that,” he mumbles seemingly unimpassioned. His eyes skimming the papers in his hands,

“I can’t lie, I’m impressed. Life long career criminal and not a single conviction”

“I don’t know what this criminal nonsense you speak of is, but you're damn right, my record is as clean as a whistle. Well, I guess until today,” you aren’t trying to maintain an ere of innocence. Everyone here knows what you do for work, and you aren’t oblivious to that, but you’ll be dead before they get audio of some half ass admittance of guilt they can spin and manipulate to finally take you to court.

“We both know this charge is bullshit, and you’ll be set loose on Monday,” he nonchalantly muses and he peers over the top of the papers at you. His warm eyes would be mezmerizing in any other circumstance, but you have to remain sharp.

“You sound sad, babe. We’ll work hard to make the most of the time we have together,” you tease. Leaning forward to rest onto his elbows,

“I know I will,” he assures you then asks,

“So why did you do it?” he asks. You give an exaggerated disappointed huff before answering,

“So so handsome, but unfortunately just as dense as your mates,” clicking your tongue before continuing,

“Just as I told your last goon, and the one before that, and the one before that, and I’ll say it again just for you, babe, I. Didn’t. Do. It.” Holding unblinking eye contact you lean forward closing the distance between you, your voice becomes a cooing whisper as you go on,

“I don’t know how else to put it, love. Why can’t you understand me?” drawing up your eyebrows and slowly shaking your head to convey distress continuing to draw closer to him.

“My name is Detective Seo,” He mutters trying to correct you as he seems to struggle to keep his eyes from drinking in your approaching features.

“Oh I know, baby” whispering for only him to hear.

He has remained strong, not letting your seductress intimidation technique win out over his macho demeanor, but as you near only a foot of nose to nose separation he pushes back not only his upper body but his whole chair from the table causing a smug smile to spread across your features. His slight fluster is impossible to hide due to the pink rising to his cheeks and his lack of grace as he gathers his documents before heading to the door. Soon the feeling of watching eyes fall back over you, and you hope so deeply that they are his.

Despite the painful furniture and frigid temperature the only thing on your mind is Seo. He’s there when you’re awake being grilled by other cops or just staring at the damn wall, and when you get brief moments to rest, he's in your dreams.

You’ve long lost track of time in the windowless room, another way they are trying to disorient you to let your guard down. With some sweet talking, you convince them to allow you to use a private bathroom as opposed to the grimey stalls that the other detainees use. While you are lucky to be affording this luxury, you have ulterior motives. As your escort guides you through the hall passing cubicle after cubicle, you get a glimpse out the window. The light is dim and dusky; it must already be Saturday evening. Your romantic daydreams have done wonders for making time fly by. After a few turns down corridors, you see what you’ve been looking for, not the bathroom, a rich wooden door with a window covered neatly by a curtain, and just to the right a gleaming placard. Detective Seo Changbin. Such a pretty name for such a pretty man. You commit the path to his office to memory for potential future use.

They graciously let you rest for just a bit longer before starting up the interrogations again. Without fail you continue your typical slough of jesting and snarky comments without revealing any semblence of guilt, but unlike usual, there are some requests for the handsome detective sprinkled in. This continues late into the night and you can assume early into Sunday morning.

During a particularly kind session of questions, more like pleading on their part, you had just had a scrumptious meal hand delivered by your favorite officer; you are feeling generous. After some careful deliberation, you decide to throw them a bone but only on your terms.

“Bailey, you know me. You know I work alone and what little evidence you have points to a group of at least two. The fact that you guys won’t drop this line of questioning after hours of getting nowhere is making me question your sanity, lady,” you chide with a mouth full of food.

“I feel bad for you, hon. So bad, in fact, that I want to help you guys. I’ll share…” her face lights up as if what you're about to say will free her from this never ending game.

“But only to Seo” and her giddy face shifts to one of despair before one of determination as she rushes out the door pulling out her phone from her back pocket as the door slams behind her. Not an hour later, the man of your dreams is pushing open the thick door. Equally as confident as last time, but he has ditched the tough guy demeanour for a more flirtatious one to match your own.

“I heard you were begging for me all night” he humors with the corner of his full lips pulling up into a sly smile.

“Oh baby that wasn’t begging, that was negotiating, but I'll beg if that's what you want.”

He moves close, foregoing the chair and sitting on the edge of the table forcing you to tilt your head back to keep the steamy eye contact that makes a heat rise in your stomach. He sends you a wink and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off,

“Getting you here is only part of my request. I'll help you, but in exchange, I demand a date with you once I’m released”, his sultry look quickly shifts to a genuine smile and red cheeks as he breathily chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief,

“Before you go on about it being unprofessional, this is all just a big misunderstanding on record, babe. Remember, there was simply a glitch in the system that put out a warrant for my arrest. I am perfectly innocent. Actually, this is a massive mistake on your part and a major inconvenience to me. It truly is the least you could do”

“Oh really? I don't think innocent is the right word,” he leans down a bit, eyebrows raising knowingly.

“How about blameless? I'm just a blameless woman held hostage by a mismanaged police force, the least you could do is take me to dinner.” jokingly sticking out your lower lip to pout. He gives his best attempt at a disappointed sigh, but no matter how many times he attempts to release his tensing cheek muscles, they keep returning to a full smile.

“Fine, now who was it?”

“You think I’m that easy, Changbin?” pulling back clutching your imaginary pearls with one hand in faux shock,

“I'm not doing your job for you, plus I can't be on record selling out a coworker can I? Now, you promise me to take me out Monday after we clear up this silly clerical mistake, and I'll tell you where to look, you just have to trust me, yeah?” Caused by the name drop and your outlandish proposal, the shocked look on his face is genuine unlike yours.

“Trust you!?” he chokes out the question, but you just look back expectantly waiting on his response.

“I promise, y/n, to take you on a date this Monday” This the first time hes had a serious look in his face since he walked in.

“No take backs detective Seo” you warn. His flush brightens hearing you say his title for the first time after only calling him pet names.

“The old storage units on the west side of town”

“The owner? No way Mrs Lee had anything..”

“Let me finish!” you yelp, holding hand up to stop him.

“The owner of unit 87. Me and Mrs. Lee are actually members of the same book club, and I have it on good authority that the owner of that unit hasn’t paid his dues in three months”

“So he's the…” you once again interrupt him trying to jump to conclusions.

“No! I said I'm not doing this for you! However, your cute looks and eagerness make me want to help you extra. His kid has some unsavory affiliations, and they have been using said unit to store some… things. I'm not saying it's them, but what I am saying is the stuff you find there will lead you guys to the perp as long as one of you has even the barest minimum of reasoning skills. I know that can be few and far between in this line of work.” You just had to slip in that last jab, “Now, there's your in. You're welcome in advance, baby” He is a whirlwind running out the door, but before it shuts he shouts back to you

“See you tomorrow!”

They keep you in custody for the majority of Sunday, but no one enters to question you further. Only a few familiar officers pop in to chat or share a meal as you're finally able to drop the smug persona since Changbin is hard at work clearing your name. He returns to finally have a normal conversation with you and iron out the details of your date before your release. While it is policy to keep suspects cuffed on your way out the door, they usually never do, but Changbin insists. Both enjoying it a bit too much as he locks your wrists together before guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You stop before the main entrance of the station for him to remove your restraints. While your conversations have been respectful and polite ever since you gave the crucial information in solving the case, his smirk resurfaces as he twists the key.

“If you behave for me, maybe I’ll bring these tomorrow night.”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●

A.n- I can’t be anti authoritarian; one of my best friends is a cop! Thanks for reading! I felt particularly delulu writing this one. Wanted to name this ‘If you’re bad cop, and I’m good cop, who is sexy cop?’. Also, what the hell else do you call a smirk? Lots of smirking in this one. I can only alternate bt smile, smirk, and grin so much before I start feeling silly

-mo (acab)

Masterlist

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz fanfic #seo changbin #changbin skz #changbin stray kids #changbin #changbin fanfic #changbin fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #changbin x reader #changbin x you

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chevxyn · 2 days ago

Text

CONFLICT = CHEMISTRY!

in which, you and sae got into a lil conflict outside a football stadium & the paparazzi’s made a false statement that the two of you are dating.

an itoshi sae smau series

written.

act v, ep 044 : disaster | next part

wc : 1k

the drive to the restaurant was not as it used to be, the sensation felt a little more warmer. that time he picked you up, you swore your heart raced a little faster.

he looked good, black trousers with a white buttoned up shirt accompanied with a black tie, as he opened the door for you and closed it.

when you saw the restaurant, it is no doubt, a fancy one. definitely looks like one that would need a reservation to attend.

he opened your door for you, as you were about to. and the moment you did, snaps of pictures could be heard from people around the sidewalk.

he took you to the inside of the restaurant, and the waiter immediately took you guys to a private lounge upstairs, it gave one the most beautiful city view that you could see.

it was set with a dim light, and a table for two was beside the giant window. as the waiter guided the two of you there, sae looked at you.

“you don’t mind if it was a little.. flashy right?” he asked, and you glanced at him, “yeah, of course.” you gave a light chuckle. he nodded, and sat down on the seat across of yours.

the dinner was really something, the things that you ordered had a rich flavor in it. and somewhat, a conversation with sae really made your night.

even tho it was just a simple get to know each other, and turns out, he gave you a lot of interesting information about himself. like how he started football just at the age of one, or how he dislikes french fries cause he thinks it’s unhealthy for him.

you also shared a fair share of laugh especially when he revealed that his weakness was that he really don’t know anything except for football, but what really makes it interesting is that how he never thought about his and rin’s fight as fights, but as his brother’s rebellion stage.

after dinner was over, you just thought oh, it’s just another date for the media again. you really didn’t expect when he took you to a hill. “where are we going?” you questioned, and he glanced at you for a second.

“somewhere to see the city lights better.” he said, you really didn’t expect he’d do this. but you kept quiet, “well, you don’t have any plans, right?” he asked and you nodded, “i don’t.”

“good.” he said, you can feel the wind getting colder as he took you farther to the top, and the two of you arrived to a scenic overlook.

when you got out of the car, you could see the scene from above was breathtaking, as the moon accompanied the night sky that was full with stars. “so, why are we here?” you questioned again, and he leaned into the rails, “i thought we needed some alone time, from the camera clicks.”

but, isn’t that the whole point that we go on these dates? is what you wondered, but you didn’t question it due to the fear of him getting annoyed at you.

the silent spoke so much of this moment, you looked at his face, as again, his face really do look handsome in this lights, as you admired him.

his eyes turned from the scenery to you. and your eyes widened before looking away, it was awkward. “is there something in my face?”

“no, no. nothing.” you said, “you were awfully looking at it weird.” whoops. it feels like you’re playing a game of choices. make the right words or you’re gonna die.

“i was just..” you couldn’t get your words out and he just letted out a small huff, “admiring me?” he said, a hint of sarcasm was heard, but your heart betrayed your mind that was trying to convince you it wasn’t like that.

“i don’t mind.” he said, switching his glance from you to the city once more. yet he could see your hands trembling a bit, and by some reasons, he took your hand and held it.

and the trembling faded, the two of you were stuck like that for a while him by your side, holding his hand just focused on the city, yet your mind raced with thoughts, as his was not so different.

he did not know why he would do this, to somebody, or more specifically to you, someone that he was so sure that could be just acquaintances.

he hated the way his heart would increase the speed near you, like how it would when he plays in the field. he really never knew of what the feeling of liking someone. but he is so sure this is not how it feels.

so why is he so obsessed with how you are right now? why does he want to hold your hand, and stay close for just a little longer?

this time, he was the one who unconsciously admiring you, as you noticed it, you spoke, “what?”

“[name].” he muttered your name, “why is rin so protective of you?” he asked, and you let out a small hum, “i don’t know.”

“maybe he’s just a good friend.” you said the obvious, and sae looked at you. “do you like him?”

“no!” you answered almost immediately, after that deeptalk you had with rin last time, you never imagined you being more than close-friends with rin.

“i see him as, my younger brother. that’s all.” you gave him a subtle smile, as he heard that, he looked at you, to your lips, back to the eyes, “so, you don’t mind.. if i,”

your stomach felt like it was flying with butterflies, you raised your eyebrow, his position changed as he leaned in. and before you knew it, he kissed you.

you froze, this isn’t what you expected at all. wasn’t this supposed to be just.. a fake date for the media? your eyes was still opened, before your mind got ahead of you.

and you kissed him back, it took you 5 seconds before you felt your emotions of regret came, and you pulled away first.

“hm?” he looked at you, your face looks conflicted. and he didn’t like that reaction, “what’s wrong—“

“can you take me home? please.” you just said, and he realized what he just did. oh.

why did he do that? even he wondered it, he just wanted you and couldn’t hold back anymore, but he went quiet before nodding, “i see, of course [name].”

taglist (open) : @vaelils, @levihanmyotp, @kaz-0e, @jaeyuuns, @narcjsistx, @sxftiebee, @tojirin, @nensi, @banzaitaka, @whisperofae, @orphicarchive, @bubybubsters, @sellomaybe, @s4-mmy, @nomyimi, @rwbie, @chuuyalvover, @suksatoru, @x3nafix, @misscandygirl122, @imas1mpp, @literallyushiwaka, @y-sabell-a, @pctterheadd, @swagkittybear, @luvvmae, @luvynii, @syarc0re, @saiongfs, @lovessen

©chevxyn

#blue lock x reader #blue lock #blue lock smau #bllk smau #blue lock x you #bllk x you #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #itoshi sae smau #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x you #sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #bllk sae #sae x you #itoshi sae

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goddessofroyalty · 9 hours ago

Note

something i thought about; viktor (& jayce) made the conscious choice to get pregnant even though he has the vague memories of silco not being in very good shape after his brothers were born. i imagine his doctor asks him about family history when it comes to pregnancy and jayce more or less says that he himself was a big baby and his mom was put on bedrest for the last stretch of her pregnancy. but viktor asks if he can bring in his dam for the next appointment cause he does Not have the details and uh. what silco says (because he does go. hes not thrilled about giving out personal details about his health but its for viktor, he'll do it) probably ends up lowkey scaring viktor cause he didnt remember it being THAT bad!

Viktor does probably have some knowledge of what happened with all of Silco's pregnancies by the time he and Jayce and thinking about having one. Once the kids got to a certain age it kind of just became part of Silco's monologuing about what he has done and what he has been through to get to where he is, the necessary sacrifices and suffering for success, touch of reason why he is so determined to see them succeed, etc, etc. And he probably told Viktor a bit about it when Viktor presented to make sure Viktor knew what he would be getting into if he did decide to have a baby.

Viktor knew pregnancy isn't going to be easy for him. He just decided it was worth it in order to create a child that is a mix of him and Jayce.

I still think he gets Silco to agree to join him for the next appointment because he doesn't know the full details of it all and it is a bit trusting his memory of what Silco told him over years of off-hand comments and monologue details. And, while on one hand Silco doesn't love giving out his health details to practically a stranger, on the other he does enjoy a little the dawning horror on the doctor's face as he lists off the things that happened during his pregnancies (that he survived).

It does hit Viktor a little differently hearing it while actively pregnant himself. But, again, I think he always knew pregnancy wasn't going to be easy so it's just about managing whatever issues pop up to get him and the baby through. But it's definitively daunting to know what Silco went through to have him and his brothers now he's going down the same path of having a baby.

I think Jayce gets scared from it. The kind of pregnancy complications he thinks of is stuff which is uncomfortable but not dangerous (his mother is on bedrest because his weight was so much it was uncomfortable and difficult to her to be up on her feet more than it being risk to either her or his health but also he's thinking about things like morning sickness and additional fatigue). It hasn't occurred to him that he could lose Viktor in this (until now). But Silco nearly died with Mylo. And both Viktor's and Claggor's complications carried the risk of them not making it that they luckily avoided. Jayce's stress levels are going through the roof and he's going to end up so protective of Viktor as a result.

#Arcane #Arcane mpreg #mpreg #Zaun Family #Jayvik #Jayce Talis #Viktor Arcane #Silco Arcane #Ramblings of the Goddess #Q and A with the Goddess #Anon question

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strayheartless · 12 hours ago

Text

Empty Chairs at Empty Tables:

A Genesis short

Saw a post by @altocat about Genesis being the only one to get to his thirties and how much guilt he must feel. So obviously I wanted to make it worse, cause ya know… big stick, sad man🤷🏼

“Here they talked of revolution, here it was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow, but tomorrow never came.” -Les Misérables, Viktor Hugo

***

There are many little lies the WRO tells the populous of edge in order to keep them safe. Don’t go here, stay out of there, derelict and dangerous signs littered the outskirts of Midgar like theatre posters. Genesis never payed it any mind, he knew Midgar was no more dangerous than the smog filled refugee camp they collectively called home. Besides even if it were, what’s the worst that could happen to him, Mako poisoning? Oh no the horror…

The likelihood that he would die from such an affliction was almost laughable. Mako had killed him once and failed, so what was the point in fearing its power now? Most things that tried to kill him failed these days. Whether that be a blessing from the goddess or a curse he could quite puzzle out, but he knew what it felt like. To live while those you have loved are gone is to die and die again each day. To stand where once you stood with them at your side, not a line on your face to suggest the passage of time, nor a legacy to precede you worth the legacy they left themselves… any man would go made from such an affliction.

Standing in the midst of what once used to be the 49th floor of Shinra tower, Genesis felt the absence of his friends more keenly than usual. The dull ache that accompanied his every waking moment, now increased to an agonising fire that spread through his chest. He stood in the hallway - not quite as open to the elements here as it was in other parts of the building- looking down the corridor that had once held their apartments. Each door taunting him louder than he’d like. He knew no FIRST class after Zack had ever been offered apartments here. The whole area, according to Tseng, had largely been abandoned for reasons only Hojo had ever been privy to.

His wing twitched behind him, the only visible sign of his distress as his face maintained a cold detached air that could have put Sephiroth’s to shame. He placed his hand on the door marked Fair, Zack - First Class pushing it open on its broken hinges. He noted Meteors signature lay upon the open plan living area as he stepped in. Upturned chairs, scattered belongings and blown out glass from the floor to ceiling windows made the room look like a dystopian hell scape.

There was no use in righting the pictures that had fallen off of the walls, so Genesis simply rescued them from their broken frames and placed them into his inside pocket. Snap shots of Zack and Angeal during their first mission, Ones of Clouds friend Aerith sat in amongst a veritable Eden. Genesis knew that Zack had loved her, though he had not been there to see the puppies first crush. A photo that had fallen from side table by the upturned Couch caught his attention, showing Zack with his arm slung around a familiar blonde haired infantryman. Cloud was smiling in the photo, a sight Genesis had never been privy to personally. Tifa often said he didn’t smile, or that it was rare and small. Yet here he was grinning up at Zack with clear hearts in his eyes. He wonders if Zack ever noticed that look.

Other than the general destruction left behind by a literal end-of-days, the room was exactly as Zack had left it; Cluttered but neat in that way that only soldiers with a fear of Angeal’s surprise room inspections could be. Genesis could see the empty cereal bowl Zack had left on the floor from the day he’d shipped out to Nibelheim. Several stray shirts lay on toppled dining chairs and a games controller was still hanging out by the brightly coloured bean bag in front of the cracked but wall mounted TV.

Genesis ran his gloved fingers across the dust that lay undisturbed along every surface. It clung to his fingers, joining the blood that already drenched his hands. Part of him thought he should pack all of this up and deliver it to someone who had known and loved Zack, but who was there left? His parents had not known him as he was like this, and Cloud almost certainly would make Genesis regret it. Could Genesis even rightfully be the one to make that decision? Was it Clouds call to make as the last one to have loved Zack?

Disgusted with himself Genesis left the apartment, closing the door on the last vestiges of the boy whose life he ruined.

Across the hall Angeal’s ghost stared at him in the form of yet another broken door. Going into his own apartment felt self centred, going into Sephiroth’s a waste, the man spent so little time in his own quarters it was a wonder why he hadn’t simply moved into either his own or Angeal’s spare room. Most of his belongings had always lived in the others apartments. Thus he could not ignore Angeal’s absent hard stare for a second more. He stepped across the hallway and into the familiar apartments.

The first thing that struck him was that the room seemed to have survived the worst of the meteors destruction. Only a lamp and some trinkets sacrificed to the earthquake that had shook the world over. Perhaps it was the position of the room in the building. Genesis didn’t know, but somehow its preserved remains upset him further than if they had been a mess.

Memories of being in this place flashed through his mind: Angeal making his weekly food schedule at the table; Sephiroth curled in a Sun ray, by the window; Genesis himself, lounging on the Couch, book in hand as Angeal ran his hands through Gens hair and Sephiroth listened to him read. He remembered every argument over shows and books, every vulnerable goddess forsaken moment of their lives, at least the little they had lived.

They had been so young when they had died. All three of them barely even in adulthood by the time the truth came out. He remembers thinking that Sephiroth had been the most damaged of them, and maybe that was true once, but in reality they had been three lab rats huddled for warmth against the cold, cruel workings of the men in power. He had been fed the same lies, choked on the same ideologies. He had towed the party line while his biology ate away at him just as much as Sephiroth or Angeal. And now here he was, JENOVA free and left to live with that knowledge. The knowledge that he survived and they didn’t. That it is because of his actions that they didn’t survive.

He collapses into a dining chair that still stands. The other two chairs sit vacant and mocking, glaringly accusing him of so many truths.

In the middle of the table is a dead plant. The very same that had sat on Angeals table since they were nineteen. It was a mother-in-laws tongue, a Sansevieria. It had been a present from Genesis himself after they had come back from Benora having survived Genesis’ mother. He had thought it funny at the time, and so had Angeal. Now it wasn’t so funny anymore. The sight of the dead plant brought heaving sobs to Genesis Chest. He felt that burn increase to agony in his chest as the weight of his guilt strangled him viciously and without remorse.

He deserved this pain. He deserved to suffer this immortal life knowing he would not join them in their peace. He was not owed peace, he was not owed anything but pain and remorse.

No half empty glass raised to absent friends could wash away the bitter taste of loneliness that sat in his mouth now. No deed could be undone with one more altruistic in nature. He had done this himself, and now all he had to show for it was some pictures taken by the boy he killed and the dead plant he had given to the man he’d driven to death.

What a monster he truly was…

#ffvii #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 #crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #sephiroth #cloud strife #ffvii advent children #post advent children #Post AC Genesis #survivors guilt #my writing #inspired by another post

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ayumy1 · 2 days ago

Text

Scored My Heart

Itoshi Sae x Male reader

Synopsis: The reason why Sae gave up his shared dream with Rin was because 'he' scored his heart in a way nobody else could.

Content: Fluff, humour, a tiny bit of angst

wc: 3.2k

Note: This is my first bllk fanfic and reader fanfic. So I apologise in advance for any ooc or weirdness. This is a male reader fanfic for plot purposes, if you don't feel comfortable reading, don't.

There is a language change. The colours will indicate the language:

Spanish | Japanese

Life in Spain was hard for Itoshi Sae. Very hard.

Despite being a step closer to reaching his dream, understanding the coach and his teammates was another matter entirely.

All trainings required a painful amount of scrutinising to understand what was going on. Whether it be what plays to execute to what he wanted to eat at team dinners.

Of course the coach tried to make things a bit easier by using a translation app or using actions instead of words. He obviously didn't want to lose such a promising player due to a lack of hospitality, but the only promising comfort he could provide was to wait for something next week. At least that's what Sae could decipher.

True to his word, something did come the following week. Rather it was not a thing. But a person.

"Y/N L/N, YOU DARE COME LATE AFTER MISSING A WEEK OF TRAINING!" screamed the coach hurling a soccer ball to the newcomer.

"Chill out, coach. I came here as fast as I could." the figure named Y/n L/n dismissively replied as he effortlessly chest trapped the incoming ball.

"Haaah...I'm gonna retire early because of this kid," the coach sighed, "What kind of idiot gets sick in summer?"

"The special kind!" he grinned.

By now everyone had crowded around the boy, either patting him on the back or teasing him mercilessly. Sae could only spectate on the sidelines in slight envy.

It was not long before the coach barked out orders to continue the training exercise, whilst the latecomer began warming up.

"Sae!" the coach waved over, to which he promptly jogged over. "This is Y/n L/n. He knows a bit of Japanese, apparently... Y/n, this is Sae. Don't bite him."

"THAT WAS A ONE TIME THING!!!" exclaimed a blushing Y/n, who recalled the memory with great embarrassment whilst trying to swat his coach away.

Sae could barely understand the conversation and watched the coach walk away, leaving them behind.

"Sorry about that, I promise I don't bite. Trust me. It was a one time thing with some guy who plays soccer. I don't know if you know him, he's kinda famous. But ever since then, coach never lets me live it down..." Y/n rambled on.

Sae just stared. Even if the boy spoke Japanese, he wasn't even sure if he'd catch it all.

"Oh, you don't understand me..." the boy suddenly realised, "Uhh...My name is L/n Y/n. But uh... Y/n okay".

Sae's eyes widened, hearing Japanese in a foreign country felt weirdly comforting. At least there was finally someone he could talk to without fear.

"Itoshi Sae. But Sae's fine." introduced Sae. "I'm a striker, what position do you play?"

"Uhh...(Insert favourite food)." Y/n cluelessly answered, praying that the question was about his favourite food.

Sae burst out laughing. It was the first time he ever laughed since arriving in Spain. Once again, Y/n was flushed in embarrassment. This is was now the second time he messed up an introduction to someone his coach brought.

As soon as Sae caught his breath, he began motioning to himself and an imaginary soccer ball. Before pretending to kick it with precision and power towards an imaginary goal. He then pointed towards Y/n with a questioning face.

"Ah...Same!" Y/n enthusiastically replied.

In the distance, the coach was gathering everyone up for another exercise.

"I should go now. It was nice meeting you." Sae said before running off.

Y/n stared at the retreating figure, he couldn't wait to tell his mum about Sae. Maybe excluding the part about his own poor excuse of Japanese.

"Y/N, QUIT DREAMING AND FINISH YOUR WARM UPS!"

A few months had passed since Sae arrived in Spain. With the help of Spanish classes and Y/n, he'd gradually been able to feel more at ease and understand everyone. As usual training was harsh and the overbearing heat wasn't helping anyone's will to live.

Except for Y/n.

"Hey! Did anyone see that goal just now!" Y/n beamed. He was currently, the only one out on the field, whilst the others took an extended break out of the sun.

"Alright, gather up!" called the coach, "We're ending today's practice here. I don't want any of you getting heatstroke or what not. Make sure to rest and stay hydrated. Understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Especially you, Y/n! No more soccer today." the coach sternly reaffirmed.

"Hmph, fine." huffed Y/n in a pouty manner.

Everyone slowly trudged towards their bags before biding farewell to each other. Sae was lost at what to so. His routine for the past few months consisted of training, class, eating and sleeping with barely anytime for himself. Noticing his distress, Y/n decided to muster up his courage.

"Sae, wanna come to my house?" Y/n asked. With the help of Sae, Y/n's Japanese had also been improving.

"Sure" replied Sae.

"Cool, you can meet my mum. She's Japanese, so you can actually talk to her!" he exclaimed.

"You're half Japanese?" Sae asked, adjusting to Spanish. He gradually picked up Y/n's speaking habits. Such as using Spanish when he was excited or using Japanese to mess with people or a combination of both if he got too comfortable and lazy. Only when Sae switched languages with him, did Y/n notice.

"Ah, I did it again." Y/n sheepishly smiled. "Yeah, I learnt most of my Japanese from her. I guess I don't really look the part, I probably spend too much time in the sun."

"I though you learnt Japanese from anime." stated Sae, "You're always quoting random lines."

"Shush, only you hear that." Y/n playfully glared as he guided Sae back to his home.

Time seemed to fly as the pair spent time together sharing stories, discussing hobbies and touring the L/n household. Then the topic of family came up.

"I have a brother called Rin. He's gonna be the best striker after me." Sae proudly.

"Wait... you're the best striker after me!"

"Huh, no way! You're behind Rin." retorted Sae.

Before Y/n could argue back, the click of the front door unlocking attracted his attention. He grabbed a Sae by the wrist and rushed to the door.

"Welcome back!"

"I'm back," the female who stepped into the house replied, "Oh, is this Sae-kun you've brought back?"

"Mhm"

"It's nice to meet you, L/n-san." Sae politely greeted.

"Likewise, Sae-kun. I hope Y/n hasn't caused you too much trouble. Would you like to stay for dinner? I can cook Japanese food if you're feeling homesick." she offered. They continued to exchange words in Japanese, leaving a very clueless Y/n to look back and forth.

With the addition of Sae, the home was filled with of laughter. It had been a while since the L/n's were able to accomodate for another.

"Thank you for the dinner, it was delicious." complimented Sae.

"No problem, Sae-kun. You're welcome back anytime." replied the older L/n.

"Sae, you can come over everyday!" Y/n offered, oblivious to what his mother had just said.

"Hahaha...that's just what you mother just said, idiot."

"Oh."

Sae's lungs clawed for air as he hunched over trying keep his composure. He couldn't do it. He couldn't score. The defender's that swarmed like bees were tight knit and unrelenting.

The only reason they won, was because of Y/n's goals again. A goal that soared beautifully in the air with deadly speed, to a place nobody could reach. Everyone could either watch in fear or awe over and over again.

That was true essence of a striker.

"Dammit."

Every opportunity given to him always resulted in passing. It was like it was the only thing he could do.

"Sa-" Y/n hesitated. He knew the frustration of his friend. It had been multiple games since Sae had scored and it was clearly weighing heavily on his mind.

What is the purpose of a striker, if not to score?

It was obvious to everyone that Sae was stressed, tired and most of all homesick. Y/n signalled to the coach before dragging Sae to the locker rooms.

They walked home in silence, hand in hand, with Sae lagging behind a little. It wasn't until after they snacked and showered that Sae began to talk.

"Sorry."

Y/n motioned Sae to sit down and turn around, so he could help dry his hair.

"For what?"

"I failed."

"Huh?" Y/n' questioned, like Sae had three heads, "I thought you were sorry for eating my food."

"I wouldn't apologise for that" Sae quickly replied.

"Hmph, meanie. I was joking." huffed Y/n, "You didn't fail me. You failed yourself...This might be wrong for me to say to a striker, but your assists are amazing! Like better than (Insert team's midfielder), because your passes are like really precise, so they're really easy to kick in the way I want. The ball always goes 'BOOM' when I receive it from you. But from others it's always like 'baaaaam' and there's nothing special behind it. Obviously its different when I move it up the field because then its always a 'BOOM'. If that makes sense...?"

By now, Y/n's hands had already stopped drying Sae's hair were waving around to imitate the sounds he made. He peeked over to see Sae's reaction, expecting joy from the compliment or anger from the insult as a striker. But was shockingly met with a blushing Sae.

"Uh...Sae?"

"You idiot, I can't understand you when you speak so fast in Spanish." he seethed and pushed Y/n's face away. His face clearly counteracted his words laced with annoyance.

"But if you didn't understand, why are you a tomato?" Y/n inched closer to whisper in his ear.

"Shut up!"

"HAHAHA! YOU SWITCHED TO JAPA-GWAH!"

Sae tackled the cackling boy and they wrestled around the room, knocking into the shelf and bed of Y/n's room. It wasn't till a stray soccer ball from an upper shelf smashed into the back Y/n's head, creating a domino effect that unfortunately ended with their foreheads colliding.

"Why on earth do you have a soccer ball on the top shelf?!"

"For moments like these!" Y/n exclaimed, using the opening to capture Sae into a tight hug.

"Hey! Let me go!" Sae yelled, struggling to break free.

"I'll teach you street soccer."

"Huh?"

"I'll teach you street soccer." Y/n repeated.

"I understood the first time, idiot"

"But you said 'huh'"

"How does that even benefit you?" muttered Sae.

"If it means I get you as my partner on the field, I'll do it." stated Y/n with determination.

"...Fine."

"One more thing, you're staying over tonight. There's salted seaweed in the kitchen. No take backsies!"

For the next year, Sae and Y/n trained together to share each others respective techniques and observations.

"I have a terrible self-awareness of whoever's behind me, when I have to trap a high ball mid air." Y/n randomly spilled.

"Don't tell me that, we're probably going to play each other in a warm up match." Sae panicked.

"Good." beamed Y/n, "Then I should learn how to fix it then."

"What if we play each other in the future?"

"Then it'll be even more fun! Just imagine it." Y/n happily replied. "But then again, if you apply for citizenship, we can play on the national team together."

"True. The Japanese team is lukewarm." Sae thoughtfully answered.

"Lukewarm?"

"Shut up." Sae half-heartedly glared, "I can't score when I'm anxious."

"I know." said Y/n, causing Sae to drop his head in disappointment. "Everyone can see your anxiousness on the field, which is why they take advantage of it. You gotta feel the desire to make them tremble under your skill and drop dead as you plow through the enemy territory...and finally score where no one expects!"

"...Did you take that from an anime?" laughed Sae.

"Hey! I was trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?"

After lots of teasing and laughing, they continued to practice diligently at mastering each others style and it was not long until they could show off their practice.

'You're all...lukewarm,' is what Itoshi Sae mindlessly repeated in his head.

A defender approached from his left, causing Sae to pause with the ball on the outside of his right foot. By protecting the ball on the opposite side, he swiftly performed a roulette and by passed them with ease. Another charged directly for him, allowing him to flaunt his speedy double touch.

He was readily approaching the goal, eyes piercing into the soul of the goalkeeper who could only cower in fear and beg for mercy.

This continued for many games, Sae would not only assist the others strikers, but also score himself. This brought great joy to everyone on the team, except for the coach, who was slightly troubled. It was no doubt that he was ecstatic about Sae's growth, but the problem lied in the team composition. If Sae was a striker, he'd need to fuel his ego even more and focus purely on being a scorer. But if he was a midfielder, he'd need to focus on stamina only, creating and executing plays.

Whilst performing both was possible as an attacking midfielder, Sae was registered as a striker and needed to make a decision about his position. No coach would be willing to create a team featuring a player that couldn't pick a position.

"Sae!" the coach called out, to talk privately after another victory.

"Yes, coach?"

"Sae, do you like to score?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you pass?"

Sae hesitated, for he didn't know the answer at first. Initially passing was a way of evading the enemy due to fear. But now, he had grown to overcome that and charged powerfully with a desire to score a goal.

"Because it's just as fun." Sae began.

"Fun?" questioned the coach, motioning him to expand.

"Dribbling past the enemy, only to pass to another," Sae explained, "is like..."

"Tch, you lukewarms. You're not worthy of seeing the full extent of my powers." a voice suddenly filled the silence.

"Y/n, why are you here?" the coach sighed not surprised at all.

"I'm hungry," replied Y/n, "So am I right?"

"Ehh, I don't know?" Sae responded.

The coach exhaled a deep breath, there was no point in shooing Y/n away, he'd most likely find out sooner or later.

"Sae, look up Alvaro Recoba and if you like his play style, then I'll be placing you as an attacking midfielder." the coach announced.

"M-midfielder?" both boys stuttered.

"I can't have you stealing the midfielder's job, if you're a striker." explained the coach, "You'll have to pick."

Sae nodded and allowed Y/n to drag him away.

"Goodnight, boys. Don't sleep too late." the older L/n reminded them before heading off to bed.

"Okay." they replied. Time passed quickly whilst Sae and Y/n were huddled together on Y/n's, watching videos of the Uruguayan midfielder, Alvaro Recoba.

"Woah! Can you do that Sae?" Y/n nudged. The maroon haired boy was unresponsive.

"Uh...Sae?" asked Y/n with concern.

Instead of answering, Sae posed his own question. "Are we still partners, if I become a midfielder?"

His thoughts orbited around his friendship with Y/n and soccer. Would they still have their personal practice time? Would Y/n abandon him to practice on his own? Or even worse, never want to play together anymore?

Y/n sat up straight and grabbed Sae's shoulders firmly to the others surprise. They stared for a while in silence.

"Don't play soccer or be a striker to be partners." Y/n firmly stated. "Never do something like that because it'll only make you empty. Got it?"

"Yeah." replied Sae, he was shocked at his friend's piercing gaze.

"If the only thing that changes is your title, I don't see why we wouldn't be." Y/n began, his seriousness seeping away, "In fact, you'd be my official partner because my goal is just as good as your goal. Without you, I wouldn't have scored in the first place."

Sae just nodded, allowing the words to sink in properly. After watching a few more videos, they retired for the night to their respective beds, or in Sae's case a futon. With his mind at peace, Sae could rest easily, unbeknownst that Y/n's mind was whirling with memories. It was going to be a long night for Y/n, who just gazed at the blank ceiling.

The next morning, Sae woke up well rested to the sound of oil sizzling and smell of miso soup. His friend was messily sprawled in his bed, still snoozing away.

"Good morning, Sae-kun." L/n M/n greeted Sae, who just arrived in the kitchen.

"Good morning L/n-san." replied Sae, who kept insisting to call her L/n-san.

"Is Y/n still asleep?" she asked. It wasn't unusual for him to sleep in, but it was increasingly rare.

"Mhm." Sae hummed as he accepted the plate of fish sprinkled with salted seaweed from her. The table had already been set with cutlery, bowls of miso soup and rice.

They began to converse about daily life, even though they had heard most of it from the yapper, Y/n.

"You're curious about why Y/n told you that, right?" M/n guessed, when she noticed Sae's hesitation after mentioned the conversation that occurred last night.

"A bit." admitted Sae, "But I don't think Y/n's comfortable about it, since it involves his father."

There was no doubt that they both deducted the reason why Y/n was sleeping in this morning.

"You're so patient, Sae-kun." M/n proudly smiled, resting her chin against her palm. "I'll tell you anyways."

"Eh?" Sae's eyes widened in shock.

"You've figured out most of it... and I trust you, Sae-kun." she said knowingly, standing up to grab a photo album off a nearby shelf.

"Y/n learnt soccer from his father at a young age." she began, showing a photo of a young Y/n and a man posing with a soccer ball. As she was flipping through the album, the man had stopped appearing in the photos. "They played everyday, until he passed due to a car accident when Y/n was eight. From then, he played soccer for his father and slowly lost himself. My only regret is isolating myself and not noticing earlier."

An awkward silence settled between them. Sae was at a loss of words, should he share his condolences or had it been too long since it happened? Or would it be better to promise to take care of Y/n?

"Thank you for being his friend." M/n added.

"Thank you for telling me and taking care of Y/n. I'm very grateful to call him my friend and I promise to take care of him." Sae stood up and bowed.

"Now...would you like to see more photos of Y/n?" she smiled sweetly, lightening the mood. She quickly grabbed another album containing embarrassing photos of Y/n such as tripping or being smacked in the face by a ball. Sae could only sweatdrop at the abundance of photos.

"Morn-" Y/n sleepily shuffled into the kitchen, "GAH! WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THOSE!"

For the rest of the day, Sae couldn't make direct eye contact with Y/n without the images imprinted into his head from appearing.

Note: Thank you for reading. I hope it was clear to understand. I have plans to make a part 2, which is probably the final chapter.

#ayumy1's works #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae x reader #sae x male reader #itoshi sae x male reader #male reader #bllk x reader #Sae itoshi #bllk x male reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x male reader #Itoshi sae fluff

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jordanthewerewolf · 3 days ago

Text

WEREWOLF HRT CHAPTER ONE: MISSING

The bell jingles as I enter the diner. It's got a nice, homey, atmosphere and the air is filled with the chit-chat of many patrons. The smell of coffee fills my nose. I pull out the piece of paper in my pocket. Scrawled across the back in blue ink is the address of the diner, followed by a time. 3:15. My watch says it's 3:10. I'm early.

I flip the piece of paper over. I look at the picture that's mystified me for the past three days. It's a young male. He’s wearing a leather jacket, and his hair is dyed red and styled into a spiky Mohawk. A total punk rocker. Yet it's his face that I end up staring at. Jade eyes. A hawkish nose. Crooked smile. This boy’s face is identical to mine. And written in big bold letters at the top of the page are the words:

MISSING: ERIC FORRESTER

My friend Nezzie sent me a picture of this poster a few days ago, and now I’m walking into a diner in a city I’d never heard of, to chat with some lady I’ve never met. Because apparently, this guy is my twin brother. We were separated at birth, and he stayed with my parents while I ended up in foster care. While he was growing up an ordinary teenager, I was dealing with transphobic adoptive parents who didn't appreciate my efforts to be more… feminine. I can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He definitely got the better deal. But he’s my twin. My identical twin! You know that twin bond they always talk about in movies? I've felt that ever since it was little. Like I’d feel random flashes of joy, sadness, anger, and once, a wave of impending doom that brought me to tears. I never knew what caused it. Now I do. I'm feeling what he feels.

And of course, I don't find out I have a twin brother until he disappears. The dude has been missing for a month. And in Hyper City, which I've already discovered to be the most bizarre city in the world. Hyper City is where the infamous Dr. Erian resides. About two years ago he developed the revolutionary Humanity Removal Treatment, which allows people to transform themselves into animals, mythological creatures, even fictional characters! Since then, people have been flocking to Hyper City in droves, with the desire to remake themselves into something inhuman. During the cab ride from the airport, I saw at least two dozen pedestrians who were mid-transformation. People with scales, feathers, fur. Snouts, paws, wings, tails, fangs, claws, and more. I saw some incredibly unique looking creatures. Like a hairless humanoid with deep purple skin and three pairs of glowing eyes. Or what looked like a giant green bear passed out in the park. I make a mental note to do more research on this Animal HRT fad. It's been blowing up the news for the past two years, and Nezzie's been talking nonstop about it because she plans to transition into a dragon, but I haven't been paying much attention.

“Jordan?” I hear a voice call out. It's a young woman, about my age, who for some reason is wearing… a rabbit suit? She waves me over to her booth. I note her serious expression and her piercing blue eyes. I sit across from her. I feel her gaze burn into me for a few seconds. Then she relaxes. Her face softens.

“You've got his face,” Rabbit Girl says. “You look just like him.” I know exactly who she's talking about. My twin.

“So you're the one who's been putting up the posters?” I ask.

Rabbit Girl nods. “Me and a few others.” I notice a badge pinned to her chest, displaying blue, pink, and white stripes. Trans colours. I subtly flash my trans pride bracelet. Rabbit Girl notices it. She relaxes more.

Rabbit Girl offers her hand. “I’m Candace. Candace Double. But you can call me Candy.”

I shake with her. “Jordan Forrester.”

A waitress comes by. “Can I get you two anything?”

“Can I get a hot cocoa?” Candy asks. I order the same.

After the waitress leaves, I ask Candy, “What’s he like?”

She ponders that for a moment. “He was super sweet. Kind of awkward, and he had the tendency to say the wrong things at the wrong time, but he was well-intentioned. And he wanted to be friends with everyone. Eric saw the best in people.” Candy looks wistful. There's a faint smile on her face.

“Why are you using past tense?” I point out. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Candy shakes her head, making the plush rabbit ears on her hood flop around. “We know he’s alive. Just… there's some heavier stuff about Eric I'm going to need to tell you. But let's leave that till later. What's your story?”

“Erm, well…” I hesitate, trying to figure out how to describe myself.

“I’m nothing like what you said Eric was like. I guess the only thing I can relate to is the awkwardness. Total introvert, and definitely not nice. I've been told I can be kind of a… bitch.”

Candy chuckles. “Also humble. He was like that too. Never bragged. I wonder what else you two have in common.”

We spend the next hour comparing me to Eric. Taste in movies, favourite music, video games. During this time, the waitress comes back with our drinks. Sipping my cocoa, I learn that in terms of our interests me and Eric are pretty different. He's into metal and rap music where I have a penchant for techno and EDM. I’m more into first person shooters where he favours RPGs and strategy games. But we do have a lot in common. Eric shares my general disinterest in movies and television, which is caused by my ADHD (which he also has). We’re also both really into punk and emo music like Fall Out Boy and Maneskin. Craziest of all, we both have the same favourite song: Good Charlotte’s The Anthem. A song about rebellion and deviation that’s always helped me when I feel oppressed or dysphoric.

Sitting here with this girl in a rabbit suit, I'm learning about this boy who I’ve never seen face to face, but who I somehow know better than anyone. I’ve felt his greatest joys, his lowest lows. Somehow, the two of us are tied together. I have no doubt that Eric can feel my emotions just like I can feel his. I have to find him.

Candy finishes off the dregs of her cocoa. “So, Jordan, do you like horror?”

“Yeah. I'm a complete horror nut. I'm, like, crazy obsessed with…”

“Werewolves?” she finishes.

I stare at her. “How did you know?”

She smiles. “Eric was a complete lycanthropy fanatic. He talked about it nonstop. And then this Animal HRT stuff came up…” Candy sighs. “I guess this leads right into the heavy stuff.”

I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “You mean…”

“Yep. He applied to transition into a werewolf.”

My heart starts to pound. “Oh, God…”

Candy puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Hey, hey, calm down. I'm not done yet.”

“O-Okay. Go on.”

“Things went really well at first. He asked me to hang out with him during the full moon. So he wouldn't get lonely.”

“Isn't that dangerous?” I ask. She laughs. “Absolutely. And yeah, the first time he went wolf I was pretty certain he was about to eat me. But then Eric, this giant wolf creature, just walks over and sits down beside me. And he hugs me. I could see how happy he was. It was honestly adorable.”

“So it became routine. Every full moon we'd hang out together while he transformed. Our other friends started joining us. We'd watch movies or play games and sometimes we'd go for walks around the city. Never the woods. Eric was scared he'd start attacking wild animals. He was a total softie. Honestly more like a big puppy dog than a wolf.”

Candy opens up her phone. A few taps and swipes later, she shows me a picture. It's of a bunch of people sitting around a campfire. I see a girl dressed completely in black, with black lipstick and eyeliner. A dragon woman with teal scales. A bird the size of a small child, sitting on the shoulders of a large green bear…

“I saw that bear,” I blurt out. “It was passed out in the park.”

“Behr does have a tendency to do that,” says Candy.

I return my eyes to the picture. There's a girl covered in black fur with enormous, segmented eyes and a pair of antennae. And next to her is… Yep, it's Eric, all right. A big beast covered in shaggy brown hair. At the top of his head I can see his signature red Mohawk between a pair of pointy ears. He’s got a long wolfen snout filled with sharp animal teeth, and a pair of big paws tipped with razor sharp claws. But he looks happy. His yellow animal eyes are glowing with excitement.

“Wow. Just… wow.”

Candy puts her phone away. Her expression gets serious. “That was two weeks ago. And the last time we saw him. After we got home from that trip, his girlfriend broke up with him. The poor guy was crushed. I saw him check his phone. His eyes got wide. I watched the fur sprout, the fangs grow… and then he just ran off.”

“Have you guys looked for him?” I ask. Candy nods grimly.

“We searched the woods every day for a week. We couldn't find him. But we know he’s there. We found paw prints, the occasional mangled squirrel, and every night we hear his howls.”

Candy sighs. “And as to why, well, we have three theories. One, Eric's snapped and gone feral. Or two, he's hiding in the woods, acting like a monster to numb the pain. Or three, this is what he's really wanted all along.”

So that's it. My brother’s become a monster. I feel the room start to spin. My stomach churns. My twin brother is a bloodthirsty beast.

“Behr went into the woods two nights ago. She said she found him, but he wouldn't say anything. She talked to him and she thinks he understood her, but then… he just ran off.” Candy has a helpless look in her eyes. “The government knows that he's in there. They're tracking him. They're leaving him alone for now, but if he hurts anyone…” She fidgets with her empty mug. “They'll kill him. They’ll put him down. Like he's a fucking animal.”

I feel like I'm going to throw up. But I somehow manage to reach across the table and take Candy’s hand. “It's okay, we’ll find him. I know I can find him.” I briefly describe our twin connection. “So, I think that I can help him. Like, I don't know, maybe he'll recognize me.”

“You think so?” Candy looks skeptical. “That sounds kind of unreliable.

“I promise,” I tell her. I try to change the subject. “What’s with the bunny suit?”

“Oh, this? It's part of my year living as my preferred species. I'm about to start Animal HRT in a few weeks.”

“Living as your preferred species? What does that mean?” I ask.

“Erian has this rule where you have to dress and behave like what you're transitioning into for a year before you can actually start treatment,” Candy explains. “For me it basically means wearing this rabbit onesie. Everyone else who does AHRT just lies to Erian and says they've done the year already. But I don't want to risk this going wrong. I'm doing this by the books.”

“Ah.” I stand up. “I think I should be going now. Thanks for your time.”

“Thanks, Jordan,” says Candy. She gives me a quick hug. “Good luck.”

I walk out of the diner, knowing I’ve just made a promise that there's no way I can uphold.

That night I dream about wolves.

I'm running through a forest. The full moon hangs above me.. Every sound is magnified. Every leaf is in perfect focus. I feel my heart pounding, my breath coming out in deep grunts. The scents of nature fill my nose.

Ahead of me, I hear a wolf howl. An eerie noise that reverberates through the night. But I don't stop. I keep running towards the noise, bursting out into a large clearing. And there he is. My brother. Just like I saw him in the picture that Candy showed me. His jaws open, howling his longing into the night. Calling out to me.

He stops. Looks right at me. Strides over. “Eric?” I try to say. But it comes out as a wolf growl. I reach out to him, but my arm… it's not my arm anymore. It's a werewolf’s forepaw, covered in thick brown fur. I’m a wolf creature, I realize. Just like him. Before I can do or say anything else, Eric reaches me. Suddenly he pulls me in to a tight bear hug. “I’ve missed you, sis,” he murmurs. I try to say that I missed him too but it only comes out as growls. We hold the embrace for a long time, our furry bodies entwined, claws dug deep into each other’s pelts, our snouts touching tip to tip.

Finally Eric pulls away. He's grinning ear to ear as he takes my hand. As one, we lift our snouts into the air and bay at the moon, howling our joy at our reunion in perfect harmony.

The sound is so loud that it wakes me up.

Suddenly I'm not in the forest anymore. I'm laying on Nezzie’s couch, drenched in sweat. I feel my face. My arms. My backside. My hands. No snout, no fur, no tail, no paws. I'm not a wolf after all. It was just a dream. In surprise I realize that I'm disappointed.

“Jordan?” Nezzie calls out sleepily. She's standing in the doorway, bleary eyed and clutching her hoard of plushies. “What's going on?”

“Just a really weird dream.” I rub my eyes. “Did I wake you?”

“Yeah. You were howling.”

“Like a wolf?” I ask hopefully.

Nezzie shakes her head. “You sounded like someone was torturing a pig,” she snickers. “Anyway, I need my beauty rest. Try not to have any more dreams about slaughterhouses.”

Nezzie heads back into her room. I lay back down and stare at the ceiling. What was that dream? It was so… weird. And why did I like being a werewolf so much?

Then I hear his howl. It's faint. Distant. But it's unmistakable. It's the exact same howl from my dream. In an instant, I understand everything. What that dream was trying to tell me. What I’m supposed to do.

I rummage through my duffel bag and pull out my laptop. I Google Animal HRT then click on the first result. On the next page, there's a link that says “START AHRT”. Clicking that link brings up a form asking me to fill out my information. I enter my legal name, email address, and medical info. Under DESIRED TREATMENT I enter WEREWOLF HRT. I move my mouse to the SUBMIT button, and hover my finger over the ENTER key. I ask myself, Is this really what I want? Am I willing to give up my life for this?

I hear Eric howl once again. And I know my answer.

I slam the ENTER key and begin the process that will change my life forever.

Featuring @candyrocks03 and @nezhoardsthings

#werewolf #animal hrt #werewolf hrt #artists on tumblr #lgbtqia #transgender #transfem #otherkin #otherkin hrt #therian #therian hrt #story

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