#but hey she knows the amount of time his sessions normally take

[empathos]

@eddie​ asked: “ have you come to laugh at me in my miserable state? ”  ( for Lake )

" yes, because nothing is funnier to me than a pity party. can't think of anything i'd rather do with my weekend. this is where i thrive. " sarcasm laces her voice as a most pointed smirk graces her features to match. lake already made the choice to seek him out, if he thought he could sway her into feeling bad about this whole situation then he was sorely mistaken. lake didn't feel bad for anybody. she held her head high & did what she wanted. to address her actions directly would be to think about the reasons that drove her to where she was. & that was something she'd repelled for as long as she could remember. 

" don't read into it. you'll just wind up hurting yourself. " whether he could tell the dig was against his intelligence or that it was referring to her willingness to leave him wounded didn't really matter to her. the comment was somewhat of a concoction of both, to act as a warning within a joke. if he thought too hard about what they had between them, or why she chose to come see him today by her own will & desire to do so, he would be setting himself up to get hurt. she knew she was appealing to him & she knew that he liked her. unfortunately she refused to risk putting herself in that same position. & she didn’t care enough to save him the trouble. all he’d get was a half assed remark to caution him against pushing, which at the very least was more than most got.

“ what happened ? a hellfire member cancel on you so now you have to wallow ? is pretending to be a wizard for two hours really so integral to your day that you can’t even enjoy the far more interesting company at your doorstep ? it’s freezing by the way. ” gaze darts behind where he stood, past the doorway to the warmth inside his home then back again to him. a blatant expression in place of asking the question, can i come in ?

[bluejutdae]

Under the surface | Kim Seungmin x you

notes: this is for @chvnmax, cause she deserves a sleeper build Seungmo. Wanna know something fun? I spent 20 minutes on google trying to discover if Seungmin can raise only one eyebrows because ✨credibility✨

Warnings: suggestive.

You left work late and you’re tired, dreaming of a hot bath and the soft comforter on your bed. You have promised Chanbin, though, and there can be multiple things said about you, but you have always kept your promises. So you do what you have to. You send a message to Changbin, informing him you’ll be at the gym in 15 minutes tops, and you send a message to Seungmin, asking how his day was. You only talked to him for 5 minutes in the morning, and that’s not enough Seungmin time for you.

The thing is: you’re crazy about him. He’s your boyfriend, so it’s not weird, but it’s still all so new. So you would love to go directly to his dorm, but you still keep walking towards the gym.

This gym isn’t half bad, it’s clean and bright, there’s never too many people and, when Changbin is not here, the gym instructors are always kind and professional. Today the gym is not too crowded, as usual, and after getting changed into workout clothes you can easily spot Changbin in the room. He’s not alone and it wouldn’t surprise you too much. The surprise lays on the identity of his companion.

Because the fact is that near Changbin, squatting an amount of weight you can’t even start to imagine, is Seungmin.

Seungmin in a tight gray shirt, sweaty and clinging to his back and arms, and black joggers.

He’s mid squat, hands around the barbell, his biceps are bulging and shoulders are bigger than you ever noticed. Despite being together and being attracted to one another, you have never seen each other naked. Seungmin insisted on going slow, to do things properly because when it’s right, you gotta do it right. His words, but you liked the idea of dating and courting, so you had a couple of make out sessions, clothes always on and hands not roaming too much.

Seungmin’s breathy laugh travels to you and a moment later he’s raking his weighted barbell. You might die for a moment: his biceps are to die for and you hyper focus on a drop of sweat descending on his neck.

When the fuck did you boyfriend become a muscular man? You clearly appreciate his lean figure, you like to put your hands on his forearms and caress him, making him shudder and squirm under your ministrations, but this is such a surprise you don’t know what to do. Can you just go there and steal him, apologize to Changbin for abandoning him and take Seungmin with you, hide somewhere and never let him be seen by people? He’s too hot to be left in the wild.

You must have said something or made a noise, because while you’re there ogling your boyfriend, two sets of eyes rest on you.

“Hey, you made it!” Changbin boisterous voice welcomes you, and you smile taking a few steps towards them and in lieu of a greeting, your mind comes up with: “what the fuck Seungmin”.

He wasn’t expecting this, so he bends his head on the side and raises an eyebrow in an inquisitive expression. “Hello to you too, my darling. What a pleasant surprise.”

It’s not a normal behavior and you know it, but you’re transfixed on his arms and your mind provides you with fantasies about his legs and abs and his back and whatever else he might be hiding under his clothes. Almost as an out of body experience, you see your hand reaching to his arms and squeeze.

“Puppy?”

Changbin emits a dry cough, and it seems like it’s moking you, “I forgot something important so I really have to go. I’m sorry guys, we’ll work out together another time, uh?”

Your hands are still groping Seungmin’s arms, but you’re conscious enough to answer him. “Be careful on the way home.”

“I’ll see you later, hyung”, your boyfriend's voice is laced with humor. “Are you done?”

“No.”

“You’re being ridiculous. If you want to grope muscles, you should have took the opportunity while Changbin hyung was still here…”

“I don’t want to grope him!”

“But you want to grope me?”

“Of course.”

His laugh is so pretty it almost distracts you. You still manage to turn your eyes towards his face and smile at him. “Puppy, since when are you muscular?”

“No, no. Let’s not ignore when you said you want to grope me.”

“We’ll circle back to that later.” You finally detach your hands from his arms and poke at his tummy. “You’ve been hiding this from me?”

He scoffs. “I hid nothing.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t that mean you’re gonna let me see everything?” You know you said you were gonna go slow, but thinking about Seungmin sweaty and his arms bulging made you incredibly horny and a little wet.

“Puppy” he warns, looking around at the gym. It’s true that there’s almost no one, but a couple of trainers and at least three customers are present. You shrug with a wink. But Seungmin hasn’t finished with the surprises tonight, and in a flash he bends at the knees and puts you on his shoulder, your face now staring at his back and your ass in the air. Your response is a loud yelp and a threat.

“Put me down. Put me down or I’m gonna kill you.” Truth is: you didn’t expect Seungmin to be able to lift you like this and if you were only a little wet before, you are scared you’re gonna embarrass yourself if he keeps doing stuff like this. He puts you down only when he reaches the man’s locker rooms.

“Wait here for me, uh? I’m gonna walk you home tonight.” He looks around and, having assessed you’re alone, he kisses you hungrily, nipping at your lips and panting in your mouth.

Later, you’ll ask him to come up to your apartment, you’ll kiss wildly as soon as the door closes behind your backs and, for the first time, you’ll undress him. His shirt will lay on the back of the couch, joggers on the corridor floor. In return, he will get to have you naked too. Clothes scattered on the floor and on some pieces of furniture, it won’t matter tho. What matters is that you’ll make it to the bedroom and, most important, to your bed. He’ll show you how his biceps bulge when he’s over you, torso raised but hips fucking his cock inside you, making you bite your lips to stop the loud noises he’ll try to coax out of you. Later, you’ll worship his body, asking him to flex this or that muscle to lick it or gently nip at it. He’ll tell you about his gym adventures with Chan and Changbin, sometimes Minho, and he’ll promise you can go with them if you don’t act feral and try to get him naked.

Later, but for now you run to grab your bag from the lockers and come back to wait for him. Who would have thought your boyfriend had a sleeper build?

[tinydefector]

I LIVE FOR HUMAN EFFECTS IT GENUINELY JUST FEELS LIKE A SITCOM HAHA

humble request to have rung in human effects 🙏 i love rung 🙏

Mental strain - Human effects

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none, mention of the Ambassador being desirable

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Rung's office is quite a pretty place, decorated with model ships and collective little models. But the vibe of the place for some reason felt as if sitting under an old willow tree, it was familiar and soothing, soft scented oils burn in the background as the Therapist pads down notes from his human patient.

The ambassador lays across the large couch with an arm over their face, head pressed back into a soft pillow as they breathe in the scent of the room. “I just don't know what to do about this, normally Whirl doesn't cause me issues but my God, that mech and Nadia are conspiring with each other I can just feel it” they huff out. Normally the ambassador wouldn't be put off much, but both Nadia and Whirl were hunting for personal information, and seemingly have in their head the they were involved with either, Rodimus, Megatron or Luna Whistler, and it was starting to frustrate them.

‘ “So…. Boss, you and the captain?” Nadia coos as she walks with the Ambassador. It earns the Moroccan woman a glance. “What about the captains?” They asked with a raised eyebrow. “You've been spending an awful amount of time with them” she teases, which Gets a shake of the liaison's head. “Nadia I don't know what gossip you're hunting for” they hum while continuing to walk with her.

“Hey fleshy getting quite up close and personal with the new seeker huh” Whirl chirped, almost making the ambassador prickle with goose bumps from the fight or flight response to the helimech. “Whirl, I don't think I have to remind You about your probation and not causing issues with crewmates?” They shoot back at the mech. The singular optic seems to focus on the ambassador. “Hmmm, touchy, didn't take you as a Xeno” the heli stated before disappearing into thin air.’

Rung listens thoughtfully as the ambassador vents their frustrations, optics crinkling kindly behind spectacles. After long vorns counselling troubled mechs, he had learned humans seemed to have just as much trauma and issues as most mechs did, but he did enjoy these sessions where the ambassador mainly vented about issues, crew gossip or plans.

"Perhaps Whirl and Nadia have struck up an unlikely friendship, though the results tend toward...chaos, but so far it seems rather harmless, especially for Whirl." he hums with a soft smile his face plate leans against his knuckles as his other servo types away, noting things.

"Rung you don't get it, it feels like Nadia thinks I'm sleeping with Megatron or Rodimus and Whirl, I swear Whirl just pops up out of nowhere makes a snarky comment about Luna whistler." They sigh while their head presses back into the pillow. "Rodimus has been grumpy, avoiding me when I'm trying to help him with his work, it seems like the moment we had Luna Whistler join, the crew has become a little standoffish, God I just want a vacation" they mumble.

His optical ridges lift inquiringly. "Oh my, that is quite a predicament." He chuckles while laying his pad down to look them over. His optics flicker away from them before back to his pad. “I had heard rumours of some of the crew being rather interested but I didn't Think it would escalate to this” he hums which earns him a look from the Ambassador.

They raise an eyebrow at the Therapist. “What rumours?” the ask rather worried over the situation. He removes his spectacles, optics crinkling in shared wistfulness.

"My dear it seems you are rather desirable amongst the crew, quite a few are interested in courting you. and it would not surprise me if quite a few have become slightly bitter over a new mech joining and having your attention on him" Rung explains, he wasn't a daft mech, he had been around a very, very long time. And he knew the face of a smitten young mech.

Their eyes go wide, mouth wide open In shock. “But.. but I'm a human!” They state sitting up in utter shock hearing this revelation. Rung's optics soften as he looks at their stunned form. “Oh I'm aware, quite a few of them have been rather vocal over wanting to know how to properly Court a human, quite a few Web forums and sites have come up since the Cybertron and earth alliance.” He informs, not giving away details of who, or what mechs had confided in him about their interest.

His smile takes on a gently mischievous quirk. "As for Nadia and Whirl's meddling, I'm very sure they have become rather invested in figuring out who the lucky mech is, even though it's very clear there isn't one” he chuckles again watching the way their eyes bulge.

They are speechless, stunned. Not knowing how everyone apparently thought they were involved with multiple mechs. “Oh my fucking god” they groan out loudly while slamming their face into the pillow and letting out a noise. After a moment they sit up " I just want everyone would cut Luna a break, mechs trying to become friends with others and fuck he's a nervous one outside of work, he's a sweet mech just wish everyone would stop giving him the stink eye, and now apparently I'm the reason hes getting the stink eye" they press their head into their hands.

The Ambassador looked tired and stressed. "Plus I'm pretty sure he's very smitten with Traxies" Rung lets out a soft vent as he stands walking towards one of the shelves with the model ships, reaching up he withdraws a small bottle from his cabinets, sympathy visible on his features as he walks towards the liaison. "Here, I believe you may be desperately in need of one of these." He slowly hands a slightly larger glass to the human.

Their eyes widen slightly as Rung hands them the glass, "where did you get Vintage Earth Whiskey!" They ask almost in shock as they look over the bottle. Rung's optics gleam behind spectacles as the ambassador regards their unexpected gift.

"I may have a bit of a collection of human and cybertronian liquor. Ships aren't the only thing I collect” he hums lightly before the Ambassador shoots him a look. “Swerve tends to let me know when he gets his servos on collections” he chuckles as he pours himself a glass, “ human Alcohol is fortunate something I happen to indulge in on occasions”

"I should have known Swerve was bootlegging booze" they state with a shake of their head as they take a sip of the whiskey. They both sit there quietly before Rung finally speaks up again.

"In matters of the sparks, a lot of cybertronians are rather taken by you, most likely the easiest way to go about it is to state your not interested in interspecies relationships, let them down easy. It won't be easy but it would most likely be the easiest way to get the rumours and your admirers to back off." His optics glint roguishly behind spectacles.

"Thing is Rung, it never even occurred to me outside of Nadia making jokes of getting it on with a mech" they hum while leaning back into the chair and sipping their drink. “In truth, now I'm just questioning every nice thing the crew does for me, oh God, is Gift giving a thing that indicates Courting!?” They are worried only for Rung to snort and chuckle.

“in some cases but most times it's only after a Conjunxing request has been accepted, im sure who ever you gave something to hasn't seen it as you showing interest, tho there are a few things which count, such as custom paint jobs, upgrades, or weapons” he states, it soothes their worry over the sweets they had gotten for Megatron.

“OK, ok, so hypothetically, If I was interested in a bot, how would I go about asking them if they were interested” they mumble only for Rung's optics to soften as he watches how they stare into their drink. “ Hmm well it very much depends on the Mech you're interested in, and not just personally wise, different frames have different Courting methods. Tanks and Seekers are very different in their approaches, as are Speedster and Haulers.” He takes a sip of his drink before continuing.

“ seekers tend to do Flight dances with one they are interested in, others can become slightly hostile, it really depends on the mech. Tankers are also collectors, most likely if one gives you something they hold very dearly it means they are trying to initiate an interest, most times it will be ammunition. Haulers are a bit of a strange one because it depends on what kinda hauler, because some will take you to a place which you have never seen before because it reminds them of you” he finishes. It makes the Ambassador fidget lightly.

“There are many more I could go on about but sadly I'm not as well versed in all the different frame types conjunxing rituals” he smiles at them before finishing his drink and placing the cup over on his bench, fixing his optics on the human again.

"You know, you're not what I had expected as a therapist, um, thank you, sorry you had to deal with my breakdown and well this” they make hand movements towards themself which makes Rung laugh in amusement. "We all struggle, in our ways. My role is easing that burden, however it works best." A gentle pulse of reassurance.

"Your well-being matters greatly to this crew. It is a privilege to offer aid, whether counsel or distracting company." He stands from his seat walking over to grab their nose empty cup. “ Ah I don't think I'm ready to head back out, how much longer can I stay?” They inquire.

Rung runs a few calculations over time, a light rumble echoes from his chassis. “ I fortunately don't seem to have another patient for the cycle unless Whirl decides to make a visit for themself” he gives them a soft smile.

“Care for another drink?” He offers which earns him a nod from the Ambassador. “Well outside of this small problem you're having with suitors, have you had a chance to enjoy that hobby of yours you were telling Me about last time?”

“Sadly not yet, having been helping Megatron and Ultra Magnus with Rodimus, turns out that speedster isn't the best with writing. I think he has Dyslexia and most likely ADHD, they tend to go hand in hand a lot. Been trying to find ways to help him focus on work” they take the glass and begin sipping it, relaxing back into the chair and pillow. “Just wish Rodimus would stop with the cold shoulder, well I now know why he's giving me a cold shoulder but it makes it easier to work with him when he's not huffy and pouting” they explain.

Rung shakes his helm in amusement. “He will settle, that or I'll have a word with him during his session about workplace duties, have you brought it up with Megatron or Ultra Magnus?” Rung asked next, which earned him a shake of their head.

“no, he's been good with them, really good actually, Megatron's been really good with helping him with reading, and Magnus is a godsend with fixing any errors. I know it's driving him crazy having to redo it but I think he understands the importance of having Rodimus learning” in truth they had been very helpful and supportive with helping Rodimus learning and finding ways to help with the things he found difficult.

“Well I'm glad to hear that they are helping, that reminds me I have to schedule an appointment with Megatron, his spark forbids him ever coming to see me willingly” he grumbles the last part which earns a laugh from the human. They continue chatting with each other for a while. It's only after they both finish a third glass do they say their goodbyes.

“Thank you again Rung, I'll try and see you for my next session in two Luna cycles but don't hold me to that” they joke, Rungs rolls his optics in amusement before putting away the bottle and placing his pad down on his desk. “Anytime my dear, try not to get yourself too worried over everyone, they will settle down eventually, hot oiled mechs are always a little over the top” he chuckles before sending them off with a wave.

Rung slowly sinks back into his seat and he sighs. It looked like a lot more mechs were interested in the ambassador than he had originally anticipated, and after the holoweb forums he had seen he wasn't surprised he just hoped the crew would settle down soon.

_____________

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[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

I haven't seen it yet but full hc for the m6 with an MC on the ADHD spectrum

The Arcana HCs: M6 with an MC who has ADHD

~ @themushroomgoesyeet hope you like these! I'm writing half from personal experience, half from what I've read and heard. Please let me know if there's anything that need correcting! ~

Julian

ADHD is a less familiar subject for him, if only because his areas of specialty so far have been contagious diseases and battle wounds

He's also not really one to judge you for difficulty keeping a sleep schedule, self-medicating with caffeine, or spending days on end obsessively learning everything you can about a specific subject

What's abundantly clear to him, though, is that you do not deserve to live with the guilt that comes from your own brain hijacking every commitment and interest that it doesn't prioritize

He knows what it's like to feel guilty for something that wasn't your fault, and he doesn't like seeing you live with it

The way he sees it, he's even more to blame for his shortcomings than you are, because you're actively working against your own brain and he's just ... sad (you'll have to tell him that this is not true)

This is going to become one of those shared challenges you tackle together as a couple

He'll write down all the bad effects of too much caffeine to motivate him to reduce your combined intake

You remind him to go to bed with you at a decent hour and call it "poetry time" instead of "bedtime" to trick both of your brains into not thinking of it as the end of the day

Asra

They love you. They love you so much. They never, ever want to get in the way of your preferences and vision

He enables you maaaybe a little more than he should

Staying up late is a great idea! Spending the entire day on your current fixation with no break to go outside or talk to people? Hey, don't let them ruin your fun ~

Thankfully, he cares about you far too much to leave you to engage in anything genuinely self destructive

Once the amount of caffeine you've consumed goes from "inadvisable" to "concerning," once your sleep schedule goes from "not ideal" to "dysfunctional", they'll step in in the gentlest way

Another cup of coffee? Let him get you some soothing tea. Another all-nighter? Snuggle him first, let him help you meditate a bit and see if you don't get drowsy

Nobody can combat executive dysfunction like this magician

All it takes is them feeling the slowly building dread through your bond, and they're lovingly poofing you off of the couch/floor/counter and into a very ticklish hug

His lifestyle is heavily ADHD coded as it is. He remains completely unfazed by the roller coaster that your brain can be

Nadia

To her, you are the best possible version of her opposite

She has a hard time changing between trains of thought. You reboot yours every time you walk through a door!

She sometimes forgets to slow down and appreciate the small things in favor of the bigger picture. You, on the other hand, are constantly pausing to notice them

And don't get her started on how much she admires your capacity to learn so much specialized knowledge in such a short period of time. It's truly astonishing and she adores it

However, she can tell that leaving it unchecked and untreated will make it difficult for you to function in the Palace's normal setup, much less follow regular routines

Quick to find a specialist in your condition and set up a few sessions with them, coming up with ways to work with your diagnoses and exploring medication options that you like

Insanely good at helping you keep your mind on track and regulate your attention and focus levels, even when it means pulling you away from a task that's about to eat up half your day

Likes to idly study the chaotic way you manage your personal spaces and try to figure out what the method to the madness is

Muriel

What, you think he's not used to living with a chaotic being that'll start three projects in a row before randomly walking out and not reappearing for several hours? Please.

Truthfully, there are some small things that annoy him. He likes predictability, and your base state of functioning is taking the next random tangent. That's not easy to not worry about

However, he knows that living with him takes plenty of patience as well. As long as you two can be patient with each other's quirks, and respectful when you lovingly intervene, that's what matters

He still loves hearing you ramble

He likes watching your eyes light up, listening to the excited lilt of your voice as you infodump all the new specialized knowledge you've gobbled up

That aside, he does love learning. Each of your new fixations is a new field of education for him by proxy

He's also someone who thrives on habit and routine and isn't afraid to put his foot down when your wellbeing is involved

He will scoop you up in his arms and lovingly carry you to bed when the bags under your eyes get too prominent and you start to nod off mid-sentence

Portia

Portia looks at you like you hung the moon. Portia thinks that every magical thing you do is mind-blowingly amazing. Portia assumes that all of your little quirks and non-habits are just you being you

Hey, if finding one specific food and eating it and only it for days on end is something you want to do, cool! Maybe it's secretly satisfying some magician's craving!

You're going to think about one thing and one thing only and learn everything there is to know about that thing? That's some badass scholarly behavior right there.

Well - except for the part where you forget something exists as soon as it's not in your hand anymore, or where time really does seem like a social construct, or where you somehow get physically and mentally stuck in one spot without being able to move

That looks ... miserable

Nobody can manage chaos like she can. She'll help you snap out of it, she'll remind you to eat and sleep and take your meds, she'll regularly ask when last you went outside or took a bath

And when you mess up - when you miss an event, or fall behind schedule, or leave things to pile up until they're too much - she'll be right next to you with an encouraging smile and plenty of grace

Lucio

This works either really well or really poorly, depending on the day, how he's doing, how you're doing, what you're both supposed to be doing, what the weather's like ...

It's unpredictable, but that's the fun of it!

Much of the time, your strong points support each other. There are few feelings Lucio hates more than boredom, but with a brain like yours around, there's always something new to try or think about

Few things cause the kind of bone-deep discouragement and guilt that constantly missing things does, but nobody values the importance of trying again like he does

On the other hand, sometimes you accidentally enable each other

Lucio's still learning the self-regulation involved with choosing to do something unpleasant and important over doing something enjoyable and completely useless

And if your brain decides that said pleasant thing is the only thing it's going to function for, well, not getting sidetracked is almost impossible. Good luck to you both

Thankfully, you both have a lifestyle that allows for unusual schedules and working styles. As long as you have each other to keep trying growing, you'll never get stuck for long

[forest-hashira]

Noble Blood - Chapter Five

...hey everyone! i know i said i was taking a break from this fic, and it really felt like i did! i know it's only been about a week since the last update, but it feels like longer than that to me, haha. i didn't touch the fic itself at all for a few days and focused on working out a few worldbuilding things instead (tysm for your help leigh!!!). and then i sat down and wrote this whole thing in like two sittings. also, in case anyone was wondering, this is what i had initially hoped to get to in chapter three. whoops. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

fic masterlist here | read on ao3 here | wc: ~3.2k | cw: gn reader, new characters afoot, minor injuries (sort of a concussion, ig?), brief instance of vomiting

It wasn’t long after Satoru had told your group of friends about Kenji that other people in the settlement started finding out. Not that it was difficult, since now the little dragon had taken to riding on top of Satoru’s head and messing up his hair – which Satoru lamented about constantly, and insisted was intentional – when they were out and about in the settlement. After word had spread to virtually everyone who lived in the settlement, Satoru was allowed a bit more freedom to come and go from the Gojo estate, though his lessons with his tutors and his training sessions with Yaga still took up much of his time.

Despite all of your friends’ best efforts to make nice with Kenji, he seemed totally uninterested in anyone that wasn’t you or Satoru, and, on occasion, Kokoro, because she was prone to sneaking him cookies from the bakery. The seeming indifference from the dragon didn’t seem to particularly upset anyone in the group, but Satoru saw it as something to brag about, even if somewhat jokingly, saying things like, “You’re just not cool enough for him I guess,” and “He’d pay more attention to you if you were more fun,” always with a giant, mischievous grin on his face. 

It had absolutely devastated him one day when Kento had replied with “Maybe he knows you need a taste of your own medicine.” Satoru had refused to speak to Kento for a full three days until he apologized. 

This new normal – stepping back into the old dynamic of the group, but now with a playful dragon in the mix – settled in quickly, and for that you were grateful. The seven of you spending time together playing games and causing trouble in between lessons and training became a daily routine again. Before you knew it, days turned to weeks, and weeks into months, until almost a year had come and gone, the passage of time only marked by birthdays and the changing of the seasons. One by one, you each turned a year older; by the time the New Year’s festival was coming up again, Satoru was nine, you, Shoko, and Utahime, were eight, Kento was seven, and Kokoro was five. 

The festival went as the last few had: fireworks, cookies in the shapes of the moon phases and stars, and you, Shoko, Utahime, and Satoru spending an almost absurd amount of time with the ring toss game. This year, the prize you all had your eye on was an expertly crafted stuffed animal that resembled a bear – at least, you all assumed it was supposed to be a bear – to give to Kokoro. 

“Yaga-sensei makes stuffed animals like that in his spare time,” Satoru explained, when Utahime asked where the toy had come from. 

“Are you sure he actually knows what a bear looks like?” Shoko asked, tossing one of her rings and sighing when it bounced off the peg she had aimed for. “Because even I know that they’re not generally…purple.”

You laughed at that, not even caring that it caused you to miss your mark, too; Satoru had the money to pay for all four of you to play all night, if that’s what it took for you to win the prize. 

“Well I think purple is a fun color,” you replied, trying and failing to bite back a grin at the exasperated look you got from Shoko, though she said nothing else as she got another set of rings to throw.

By the time you’d won the stuffed animal – Utahime had outscored all of you, which had earned her praise from you and Shoko, and also meant she’d won her bet against Satoru, so he had to buy her any snack she wanted from the whole festival – the fireworks show was about to start, which meant you all had to race to the booth the Nanami family had been selling desserts out of so you could collect your other two friends, and present Kokoro with the prize that had been won for her.

Just like Satoru’s eighth birthday, all of you snuck off to the peach orchard and climbed up to the observation deck to watch the show. Utahime and Shoko sat huddled together, sharing the taiyaki pastries Utahime had made Satoru buy her; Kento and Kokoro stood closer to the railing, the little girl clutching the “bear” in a death grip; you and Satoru laid on your backs near the center of the platform, looking up at the fireworks without having to strain your necks, a mostly empty bag of konpeito lying forgotten between you. As always, the display included the moon in various phases, snowflakes being overtaken by flowers, all interspersed with bright flashes of red, gold, and white. 

Kenji, now too big to be satisfied with staying bundled into his rider’s clothes, laid curled up with his head on your shoulder, apparently content to sleep through the whole show, despite how loud it was. 

All in all, you felt good. You were happy, and everything had finally stabilized again, after Satoru unexpectedly bonded with Kenji over a year before. Besides that, you knew it wouldn’t be that much longer before you and the rest of your friend group all had dragons of your own, and the idea excited you. 

It had barely been a week since the new year’s festival when you felt something change in the air of the settlement. You weren’t entirely sure what it was at first, but you quickly learned that there was apparently another boy that had bonded with a single color dragon before the age of ten, much like Satoru had a year before. There was talk around the settlement for days, rumors spoken in hushed tones when the adults thought the children couldn’t hear, but it was impossible to miss all the murmurings.

“He’s from a little village hours from here.”

“He’s not even part of a clan.”

“I heard the Gojos bought him and are bringing him here to hold him captive.”

“They can’t take the risk of him growing strong enough to challenge the heir, they have to keep him on a tight leash.”

“You don’t think they’d bring him here just to kill him, do you?”

“It depends how much of a threat he poses, I guess.”

With such dark statements being thrown around so casually – even if only in hushed whispers – you couldn’t help but grow curious about the reality of the situation. 

“Do you really think they bought him?” you asked your friends one day. You were dying to ask Satoru himself, since he would know for sure if his clan had bought the boy who’d bonded with a solid color dragon, but you hadn’t seen much of him lately.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shoko sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “Why would they buy him? They have enough power just to take him if they really want to.”

Her words made your eyes widen with horror.

“Shoko,” Kento scolded her, a frown pinching his features together harshly. “Don’t say things like that, you’re scaring them!”

“But it’s true!” she insisted, only backing down and grumbling to herself about not wanting to lie when Utahime nudged her with her elbow.

Your curiosity only grew after that.

It was just a couple of days later when there was a flurry of excitement near the docks, and you rushed to see what all the fuss was about. You had to shove and weave your way between people’s legs in order to get a good look, but eventually you found yourself standing practically at the front of the crowd. You reached the spot just in time to see a boy about your age stumble off of a boat – obviously one of the finer sailing ships, owned by the Gojo clan – looking a bit green in the face; he’d probably been seasick on the journey. At first, you didn’t notice his dragon draped around his shoulders like a pelt because it so closely matched the color of his hair. When it lifted its head from his shoulder, though, you almost gasped, eyes wide as you stared. It looked so much like Satoru’s dragon it was almost uncanny, though this one was as dark as Satoru’s was light.

The boy glanced around as he was urged forward, clearly unsettled by the number of people gathered to gawk at him, as if he were some sort of novelty. His eyes paused for a moment as they met yours, and even with as fascinated as you were by his arrival, you managed to smile at him and give him a small wave. The gesture seemed to fluster him, and he lifted his hand slightly to return the wave before he was hurried off, one of the men escorting him scolding all the onlookers and telling them to go home.

You scampered off before you could get caught and further chastised, but your curiosity was far from sated. He had only just arrived, and already you wanted to see this boy again, and to learn as much about him as you could. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Apparently it was bad.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t see him!” you complained to Shoko, after being turned away from the Gojo estate once again. “He’s our age, just like Satoru is. I just wanna say hi.”

“Maybe it’s because we don’t have our dragons yet,” she suggested.

You wrinkled your nose. “Why would that matter?”

“Because it means we’re not grown up enough, or something. I don’t know.” She kicked a pebble a foot or so down the path as you walked together.

“Just because he has his dragon now doesn’t mean Satoru’s grown up,” you grumbled, kicking the pebble a little further down the path after you reached it.

The brunette hummed in agreement with your comment, but neither of you said anything else; even if Shoko wouldn’t say the words out loud, you knew she missed Satoru just like you did.

The two of you continued walking together in silence, taking turns kicking the little pebble as you went, only separating when you were called home by your respective parents. You waved goodbye to Shoko as she walked over to her mother, and as you turned and made your way back to your own parents, you felt less frustrated than you had when you’d first been turned away from the Gojo estate, because you had already made up your mind; you were going to get in to see those boys whether the Gojo clan wanted you to or not.

You crept through your house as quietly as you could, taking great care to avoid the floorboards you knew would creak if you stepped on them as you made your way to the front door. Thankfully your father, as usual, had failed to lock it before turning in for the night, and you held your breath as you pulled it open, praying the hinges wouldn’t squeak and alert your parents to your escape.

Miraculously, they made no sound as you opened it just enough to slip through, closing it behind you just as silently. A smile crossed your face then, realizing that the first part of your plan had gone off without a hitch. You managed to stifle a shout of excitement, knowing that would only result in you getting caught, and instead turned away from the door, racing up the road and towards the Gojo estate.

As you drew closer to the estate, you slowed your movements, not wanting to give yourself away because you tripped over your own feet or a loose stone in the path. You tucked yourself a little further into the shadows, eyes locked on the guard by the front gates as you moved around to the side. Once you were sure you were out of his line of sight, you darted to walk against the wall itself, steps slow and careful; if you miscalculated your spot along the outside of the estate, you’d be in a world of trouble.

Just as you began to question your memory, you heard a familiar voice just up ahead, on the other side of the wall, and it brought a smile to your face.

“Kenji, your feet are cold, stop putting them on my neck!” Satoru’s whining eased the hurt of not being able to see him much anymore, and it also confirmed that you were exactly where you’d planned to end up.

Taking a step away from the wall, you turned to look at it, trying to find the best possible hand- and footholds on its regal yet weathered surface. It only took a moment to find them, and you immediately began to scale your way up, reaching the top in a lot less time than you had expected, and before you knew it your head was peeking over the top of the wall.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Satoru noticed you, as wretchedly observant as he was, and you thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He called your name incredulously, stepping off of his engawa and approaching the wall as if to confirm what he was seeing. “Is that really you?”

“Hi, Toru!” you replied, somehow managing to keep from shouting, a grin plastered across your face as you pulled yourself further up.

“How the hell did you get up there?” the white haired boy asked, though he was smiling now, too; he could tell you were up to some sort of mischief, and he was more than willing to be a part of it.

“I climbed,” you said bluntly, more focused on swinging one of your legs over the top of the wall so you could begin your descent. It was then that you noticed another figure, still seated on the engawa off to Satoru’s left, dark hair pulled back while an equally dark dragon curled around his shoulders, its yellow eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark. It occurred to you then that this was the boy you’d seen at the docks; the one that had been brought to the settlement to train alongside Satoru. 

Excitement outweighed your rational thoughts then, and a beaming grin broke out across your face once again. “Hi!” you called to the boy, releasing the wall with one hand to wave at him excitedly. “I’m—”

Your introduction was cut short when you lost your balance, and you barely had time to register what was happening before you were hitting the ground, a rather undignified squawking sound escaping you just before you made impact with the dirt; you were vaguely aware of your head hitting the ground a little harder than the rest of your body, but not aware enough to realize it could be bad.

“Oh my god!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, obviously worried. The owner of the voice hurried over, and when you opened your eyes you saw two faces hovering above your own. “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt.” You realized the once-unfamiliar voice belonged to the boy from the docks, and it brought a small smile to your lips.

“It did hurt,” you answered after a moment, planting your hands on the ground beside you and pushing yourself to sit up. The sudden movement sent your vision spinning, and you felt yourself beginning to slump over before Satoru caught you.

“I can’t believe you fell like an idiot,” he said, though you thought you detected a hint of worry in his voice, as well, as he let you lean into him while he held you upright.

“Satoru-san!” the dark haired boy said, sounding scandalized that he would speak to you that way.

“What?” Satoru demanded, scowling at the other boy. “And I already told you not to be so formal when you talk to me, Suguru. It’s weird.”

Suguru. You turned the name over in your mind a few times, and you decided you liked it.

Suguru scowled back at Satoru for a moment, though his attention quickly drifted down to you again, worry furrowing his brow. “Should we take them to see someone?” he asked after a moment. “They hit the ground pretty hard, what if they’re hurt?”

You intended to tell the boys that you were fine, that it was no big deal and there was no need to worry, but as soon as you pulled yourself away from Satoru and tried to stand on your own, you doubled over again and promptly threw up your dinner, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision began to swim.

Satoru swore from somewhere off to your left, and he quickly but gently pulled you away from the mess you’d made on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t collapse into it. 

“Yeah, we need to get someone,” he said, finally agreeing with Suguru. “Can you move?” he asked, looking down at you with a worried expression.

You stared up at him for a few long moments, trying to decide if he would believe you if you lied, but the harder you thought about it, the more your head started to throb. “...I don’t know,” you eventually said, words coming out a bit wobbly. “Definitely can’t walk.”

“I can carry you,” Suguru offered, and you whipped your head around to look at him so fast you thought you might be sick again.

The white haired boy seemed hesitant at first, but he also didn’t seem to want to waste time arguing about it. “Are you sure?”

Suguru nodded. “I don’t know my way around the house, it will be easier for me to carry them and follow you.”

Your friend looked down at you again, his features pinched together in a way you couldn’t recall ever seeing before, and it made you frown back up at him slightly. 

“Okay,” Satoru agreed after a moment. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

As carefully as two nine year old boys could manage, Satoru helped Suguru gather you in his arms and lift you from the ground. Though you knew they were trying their best, you couldn’t help the small sounds that would escape you when you would get jostled a bit too hard, your head spinning so bad it made you feel nauseous. 

Once Suguru had you secure in his arms and was on his feet, Satoru led the way into the house, navigating the halls with ease as he sought out the healer that spent most nights at the estate. 

The movement was too much for you, your vision swimming with every step, your stomach doing flips with every turn, and you had to shut your eyes. 

“I really think you should stay awake,” Suguru told you quietly, worry clear in his voice.

“Not falling asleep,” you insisted. “My eyes hurt an’ I feel dizzy, that’s all.”

You received no further argument or pushback, which you appreciated. Despite your promise that you weren’t falling asleep, though, it wasn’t long before the sounds of the boys searching for someone to look you over faded from your awareness and you slipped from the waking world.

didn't wanna say this before the chapter, but i figured there was no better time to post suguru's entrance than on his birthday! so happy birthday to our boy 💜

@ghost-1-y @kentohours @whatthefucksatan @why-the-fuck-am-i-so-tired @mitsuristoleme @lu-dao-writes @peachdues @lik0 @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @here-for-the-tea-baby @staryukis @roselleviennesstuff if your url is crossed out, it's because tumblr won't let me tag you for whatever reason. i apologize!

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

And another average day at Family Video:

"No you literally can't"

"Of course you can, dingus! Some are just classics!"

"Well, and some go to Family Video to browse and randomly choose movies they know nothing about!"

"But doesn't that further prove my point?! Why would someone choose a movie solely by the cover if the cover is just a hot person?!"

"Well you said that Rocky Horror is also a queer classic and me and Tommy chose that one at random back when we were both assholes. If you'd flirted with Carol then you probably would have been hate-crimed."

"That is not a word"

"Well good thing I don't work in a fucking library then"

They glare at each other. If this was another genre, this story would end in a fight to the death. As things are, they are just two best friends getting unnecessarily heated while fighting about nothing. To be fair, it's more entertaining than watching the same two questionable movies over and over again.

Robin crosses her arms. "Okay. So just, let me repeat. To make sure I understood. You - who have admitted that you would sleep with Jonathan and Eddie if the chance arose and made out with Tommy multiple times - watched Rocky Horror Picture Show with Tommy, who may I remind you - you made out with multiple times, which once again, fucking ew-"

"Hey! He was the one who suggested it first!"

"And then you have the audacity to say that Rocky Horror Picture Show isn't gay?!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M FUCKING SAYING. If one were to see the cover with no context and decided to rent it just to see what it is about-"

"You mean the cover of Tim Curry in drag?!"

"Yeah well, Tommy was the one who chose the movie, and he is straight. So."

"Didn't you just say that Tommy was the one who wanted to kiss you first?!?"

Steve rolls his eyes so hard it's a wonder they stay safely inside their socket. "Yeah, but that's just the normal amount of same-sex attraction every straight dude has. That was just boys being boys. If that made someone gay, the whole basketball team would be full of queers"

"First of all, I will be coming back to that last bit later-"

"You? Coming for the all-male basketball team? Never thought I'd see the day"

He can admit that he probably deserves the kick against his shin.

"Focus, dingus! Let me just repeat what you just said. And I want you to think about it carefully, okay?! So in your words, a boy kissing another boy is not gay, unless one of the boys acknowledges that that is gay?"

"Uhm, duh?"

"So you and Tommy kissing was... straight?"

"I mean. No. Because I have now realized that I am not straight which retroactively makes the making out sessions gay"

Robin thumps her head against the counter. She takes a deep breath and does it again for good measure.

"I- oh my god. Okay. Just. Think about what you just said, okay? Think about it carefully. Think about it while you rewind that stack of tapes."

"Hey isn't it your turn?"

"Wrong thing to think about! You do that while I clean this...already clean counter. Again."

He gives her the stink eye but does as he is told.

They change topics. Robin tells him about the newest gossip in band. It is surprisingly intense. Just like Robin is also intense. Maybe only intense people go to band. Or maybe playing an instrument makes you intense? Well, he has a band member right here, so he asks, and they spend the next half an hour making fun of various instruments. The gay-jokes-whiteboard gains a lot of new points.

Both are laughing so hard they don't even realize they have a customer until the girl is standing in front of the counter, "The Wizard of Oz" in her hands. Steve raises a brow. Do you think this one is gay too? Robin nods to the snap hook hooked to her trousers holding her keys. Duh. He rolls his eyes. I also do this all the fucking time. It's convenient, okay?! It means nothing. Robin only looks at him with a deadpan look. You are literally further proving my point.

It is then that it clicks. "Oh my god it was gay! What the fuck?!"

Robin's face falls. He hears a gasp from somewhere behind him. Oh yeah. They were not alone in the shop right now. Fuck.

Steve thinks he vaguely recognizes her. He never talked to her, but it is hard to miss her bright red hair. Her name was....Vinnie? Or something? Right??

She looks down to her snap hook. It seems like she is going to run out of the shop at any moment. But then she takes a deep breath and looks up again, determination in her eyes. "Are you...are you also a friend of Dorothy?"

Robin's eyes shine. Steve goes to the back to have his mental breakdown in peace.

Steve isn't sure how much time passes before he dares to come out again. Vanessa (?) is gone and Robin looks incredibly smug.

He sighs. A true man knows when to admit defeat. "Okay. Maybe you had a point. With Tommy."

Her smile widens even more. "Only Tommy?"

"And the basketball team. And Valerie."

She frowns. "Who the fuck is Valerie."

"The girl who just left? Red hair? Also in band I think? Friend of Dorothy or whatever?"

"Her name is Vicky."

"Hey, I got the first letter right. If you expect much more from me you are seriously deluding yourself."

Robin rolls her eyes. They continue working in silence, but there is a tension in the air that hasn't been there since Robin first came out to him. Steve is not a very patient dude, but he can wait as long as it takes when it regards someone he cares about. And so he does.

"...Hey Steve?"

"Yes Robin?"

"I- I know we talk about it relatively openly here because it's always deserted when we have a shift together for some reason. But for the love of god, you need to be more careful. Okay?! The thing with Vicky was a lucky shot-"

"You mean your future girlfriend?~"

She pinches his lower back. Everybody looks at them weird when they do that, but it is very effective. The skin is still tender where they got their matching tramp stamps and it hurts like a bitch.

"I'm serious."

He looks at her. Sees the fear in her eyes. And he nods. I know. I promise. I'm sorry. He doesn't have to say it out loud for Robin to understand him. She knows that he means it, that he will probably be overly careful for a few weeks before they find a comfortable middle ground again. That he would never betray her trust. That is the reason they are soulmates, after all.

He isn't angry when she still asks him for reassurance anyway. "I promise", he says, more serious than he has been all day. They are both getting better at that, asking for verbal affirmation.

Another customer comes in. It's a cute girl. She rents the new Tom Cruise movie and Robin finally gets to take out the you-suck-board again.

"Okay, but did you really never realize that making out with other boys is kind of fruity?! Did I literally have to spell it out for you?"

"Hey! You yourself said that it's hard to 'break out of a heteronormative mindset' and shit. Plus, this is actually my second shift. And I used my break to drive you from school to work. So like, cut me some slack"

"Steve! I told you to stop taking double shifts all the time! No wonder you look so exhausted dingus"

"Well, Buckley, I would. But as I am sure you are fully aware Dustin's birthday is in two weeks and I need money to buy him that stupid nerd-thingie he's obsessing about-"

(more average days)

[letsbenditlikebennett]

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @alan-duarte & @letsbenditlikebennett SUMMARY: Alex meets up with Alan so that he can teach her how to shift outside the full moon. Unfortunately, their training session is rudely interrupted. CONTENT: Gun use, parental death, domestic abuse

Part of Alex had half a mind to cancel this meeting. After all, she had gotten by for thirteen years without changing outside of the full moon, did she really need to start now? She wanted to go home, back to her garden or her guitar, and forget all about the monster she became three nights a month. That was weak though and even if she hadn’t donned the name in years, somehow the Durand family legacy still hung over her head like a dark cloud, always casting a haze over anything good she tried to find in herself. She desperately wanted these lessons to change that. For her to be able to use the monster she’d become for something good. Maybe she couldn’t engage in combat with grace or agility, but if she could bring out the wolf in a more controlled setting, she could still protect people. If she couldn’t do that, why did she even survive that night? There had to be a reason for it. She had to be more than this. More than a monster. 

There was some unease that settled in the pit of her stomach as Alex walked up to their meeting spot. They would be far away from anyone, surrounded by the comforting blanket of trees and foliage that blanketed the depths of the forest this time of year. Normally, they grounded her, but the tension settled in her shoulders all the same. She still couldn’t fully wrap her mind around Alan killing hunters. Andy made it seem like it was understandable, but how could it be? Moreover, she wanted to get this right and still felt the pathological urge to make sure Alan liked her. Even if she couldn’t let herself parse through the whole murder thing, he was helping her. He was experienced in all of this. He carried himself like he knew what the fuck he was doing and Alex so desperately wanted to know what that felt like. 

A few calming breaths and taking in the smell of damp wood that hung in the air helped Alex bring her heart back down to a normal pace as she approached Alan. “Hey,” she waved with a half smile, “I feel like there should be some pop-culture mentor reference sorta deal here… but…” She shrugged, “Haven’t seen a lot of movies or TV shows.” Something she’d hoped would change as she spent more time with Cass, who loved both with a gusto. 

“So, uh,” Alex made a sort of ‘lead the way’ gesture toward Alan, “Where do we start, old man?” 

—

"Is that what I am?" A mentor. The idea of becoming someone's role model sat uncomfortably on his stomach. 

There was a time, a while ago, where Alan saw himself build a family with someone. Well, not someone. Rafael Brown wasn't just someone to him. He was not his first love, although he'd been his second, and the longest relationship he ever had. They got together before marriage became legal for them, and swiftly got married a year after they allowed it. Then, he got bitten, and Rafael started to suspect Alan didn't spend his all-nighters at work but in good company. Alan hadn't figured out yet why he was blacking out three nights a month when the other filed for a divorce. There was no amount of promising or begging that could have changed a thing for them. He got married again, a few years later, but that had been a terrible choice this time, even if his second husband was in the know. Especially, perhaps, because he was in the know.

He was now too old for this, for being a role model for his own kids. If he accepted to help Alex, he'd have to be at peace with it. He'd have to own it. 

The werewolf took a deep breath, brushing off a wrinkle from his tee-shirt. He'd grabbed something simple at the store. Target clothes were the sort he didn't mind tearing to pieces. 

He'd brought a backpack too. That was one of the things she'd have to learn about: leave a whole bunch of those around, just in case. "I grabbed you a change. You'll need one, so I hope you're not wearing your favourite clothes," because they weren't precisely pretty. He smiled. 

—

If nothing else, Alex had at least gotten the dress code for werewolf shifting club correct. She donned thrift store jeans that were several inches too long on her and a t-shirt from some movie she’d never heard of that she’d nicked because she liked the color. If this outfit was ripped to shreds by the end of the day, she wouldn’t really care. Though Alan had the forethought to think ahead with the whole change of clothes thing. Some part of her wanted to interject humor, place doubt in his ability to pick out a change of clothes, but she really doubted she’d have an issue with the change of clothes. Alan was nothing if not well dressed. Plus, her nerves would make it even harder to give any sort of convincing delivery. 

The idea of honesty had crossed Alex’s mind. It wasn’t too late to tell Alan everything. About the hunter, about how he recognized her sister and would likely recognize her. Some smaller part even wanted to scream about being a monster, about not wanting any of this, but instead, the thoughts were silenced and tucked away in some metaphorical vault. 

“Thanks,” she offered as smoothly as she could, “Did have enough sense to wear clothes I don’t care about.” She gestured at the bottoms of her jeans dragging in the mud, “In case we couldn’t tell by the terrible fit.” She sucked in a deep breath in hopes of finding some balance on the knife’s edge she felt like she was standing on. Even asking for these lessons was some sort of embracing of the monster she was. Was she ready for that? Did it really matter whether she was ready for it? It didn’t and she knew as much. This town didn’t care what you were ready for, it’d throw it at you. 

“So,” she started, looking between the two of them, “How does this work? You’re not gonna go into some capitalist meditative retreat schtick, are you?” 

—

“Not funny,” Alan pointed out. Capitalist meditative retreat schtick. Did he need to remind her that the ugly mean capitalist was offering gracefully, free of charge, to help her, and absolutely not to fill the hole in heart that had been left by crushed dreams of a perfect life with a happy American family. He had the picket fence, he didn’t precisely need a dog, considering he had a nice house, a pool, a best friend, a job, a business he owned. He couldn’t shake off this much : he wasn’t always very happy. 

Lately, happiness had been outnumbered by dimmer days. He couldn’t really pinpoint why. He’d wake up in the morning, feeling grey. Sometimes, passing the threshold of his work place made him take a U turn on those feelings. Sometimes. Maybe this was why he was doing this. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t selfless. He just wanted to try something new. At his age, it was about damn time. He also wanted to slap himself. He didn’t have to be so fucking dramatic, did he? He just had to kick his own ass and get back into the right track. 

With a sigh, one that was destined to himself, and his stupid tribulations, Alan turned to face the kid. He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, took a moment to collect his thoughts, and get started. “How does it work?” A tough question. No one had a guide for this. He had gotten help, himself, from wolves that wound up dead months, years later. Hunters. They knew how to make things harder. “You want to control something that won’t want you to control it,” he paused, “but that something. It’s just you.” Which made it more complicated. He couldn’t get in her head, and she couldn’t get in his own. “We’re not the same but, we both want to be aware of what the fuck we’re doing,” no dissociative bullshit. None of it. 

“You’re gonna need to find within you, that thing that takes over during full moons,” it sounded stupid. Perhaps it wasn’t even material, but that’s how he had managed to control it. He located it, or imagined that he did, and he pictured himself controlling it. 

—

“It was kind of funny,” Alex shrugged, “I was only joking anyway.” There was something a little heavier in the way Alan carried himself that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. So much of her childhood had been spent being so tuned into other’s energy that it was hard not to notice the subtle shift. It wasn’t the same as it had been with her father though, she didn’t feel the edge brewing in her that came whenever her father had looked less than pleased. In the context of training especially, it was unnerving. Too many of the cruel things her father had done to make her a better ranger had been in the name of training and she didn’t resent those things, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to welcome them in either. Even with the slight slump in his shoulders, she still felt safe around Alan. In the very back of her mind, she could acknowledge that she felt safer with him than she ever had with her father, but she wasn’t prepared to fully accept that reality just yet. 

As much shit as she liked to give him, Alex had to admit that he was insightful. There wasn’t sugarcoating in his words and he was able to find their common ground with ease. It was funny as different as they were, they shared so much because of what they were. Even if they wanted entirely different things out of life, there was a certain kinship to be had in wanting their lives to be on their own terms. He understood grasping for those threads of control when it felt like everything else had been all but ripped from you. She hated that she could relate to his words, hated that he was right on the money, and most of all, she hated that it furthered her from the mold of a ranger her parents had so tenaciously tried to fit her into. 

“Yeah,” she answered softly, still letting the words sink in. It was hard to acknowledge the werewolf as part of her. There was comfort in the fallacy that a monster wasn’t the only thing she was, that there was somehow more to her, to both of them. Alex shifted on her feet and tried to think of how she felt on the full moon despite the fact she had no desire to immerse herself in those memories. “So more tune into that part of my brain and memories than dissociate,” she clarified. It was admittedly better than the new age bullshit she suspected most people would recommend, not that she was expecting Alan to be an undercover zen girlie or something. 

It sounded simple enough and in reality, it probably was that simple. It’s not like it would be a huge surprise to Alex if she was as shitty of a werewolf as she was a ranger. She shook that thought, the wolf never doubted. At least, in her memories, it never did. 

“Okay, I think I get what you’re going for,” she nodded, “I guess I’ll give it a go with focusing and you… I don’t know, maybe if it’s not kicking in a little show and tell or something?” Maybe the other wolf could coax hers out. Maybe not. She both wanted to master her shift and dreaded it at the same time, but she let her eyes flutter close so she could focus on her full moon memories and the way the beast’s mind worked, how it was driven by instinct and the hunt. 

—

He didn’t reply. Arms crossed over his chest, the werewolf took a look at her. He wondered what was going through her head. It mustn’t have been easy for her either. Alan worried that he might not be a good instructor. She must have been just as worried. Alan didn’t want to think of what he would have done if he had been in her shoes, so young and unable to control himself. “Remember, you’re doing this for yourself,” he pointed out, squatting down to be lower than her, shorter. “You’re not doing this for me, or anyone else. I don’t care if we don’t get results today,” he offered her a smile before he took a seat on the ground. 

It hadn’t rained in a few days, still, he could feel the soil was fresh beneath the fallen leaves. 

“Sit down. You’ll focus better if you relax,” resting his arms on his knees, he nodded. “We don’t want to dissociate. Fuck that,” it was awful, scary, and not something he ever wanted to go through ever again. It wouldn’t be easy, and she’d need to train to achieve that at all times, but even if she never gained full control (God knew he tried), she could at least attempt to. 

Alan nodded along. “We’ll let you try and if it doesn’t work, I’ll show you,” he wasn’t sure if that would help, but didn’t people learn new things by watching how it’s done? He fell silent then, if only to give her all she needed to find that bubble of unhinged feral energy within, dormant, but very much there. 

—

There was something gentle in the way that Alan spoke and explained shifting to her that was unexpected. On their own merit, the interactions Alex shared with the older werewolf had been filled with a number of quips, but something about the kind approach to training was so foreign that it left her momentarily stunned. The environment was already better than the training room in her parents’ house, there was no locking her out here until she got it exactly right. The delivery was already softer, too, and there was something in the way he spoke that she couldn’t see him striking her out of any frustration in the name of building her skills. She felt safe and that was such a stark contrast to any training experience she had when it came to turning her into a ranger worthy of the Durand name. It was alarming that she felt safer here than she ever had training with her own father and she felt guilty for even thinking as much. 

Thoughts of her last name sent another wave of guilt through Alex. There was a hunter out there that recognized the family resemblance and she hadn’t told Alan. Here he was going out of his way to help her despite the fact she’d made it her mission to be the biggest pain in the ass possible and she hadn’t shared such an important piece of information with him. Maybe she could. She wanted to trust Alan. 

“Thank you,” Alex managed after a moment of quiet thought. It was all she could say, at least for the moment. She wasn’t even sure she could understand why the patience in this context meant everything to her and for once, part of her wished that maybe she could. “That kinda takes the pressure off,” she added. Because it did. She was always trying to impress and the fact Alan didn’t care whether or not she got it down today made it feel less big and scary. The idea of practicing shifting was becoming easier to warm up to. 

As directed, Alex took a seat on the ground. It had always been her preferred seat anyhow, especially when it was warm and lush with grass like it was in the midst of summer. She listened to what Alan said and relaxed. That should have been the simplest part of the whole exercise, but when did she ever feel relaxed? Her eyes fluttered shut and she tried to focus on the sound of the wind in the trees and how it rustled the leaves. It helped slow her heart and she tried to bring her mind to the place it was on full moon’s. She tried to embrace the instinctive nature of those thoughts, but her more human mind fought it. There was a certain ferocity to the wolf that Alex just didn’t possess even if the wolf was still her like Alan had said. 

Flashes of her tearing apart various critters flashed through her mind and the bloody images twisted her stomach into knots. Wasn’t that ferocity better than being too soft? Too weak? Alex could still remember the hushed words spoken between her parents like it was only moments ago. She finally had something in her that gave her an edge, but it still felt like forcing herself into a puzzle she wasn’t a part of. Her eyes flew back open. “Did you have a hard time letting that part of your mind in at first,” she asked, “I don’t think I can… make this me shut up enough.” 

—

She looked confused. Alan told himself that she must have had trouble following him, despite the fact that he was convinced of the simplicity of his explanations. What had happened to them was written in many books, but there really wasn't a manual for werewolves. The psychologists had not looked into the question, nor had the pedagogues. Alan would be the only help she could count on. For the first time since they had arrived, he was thinking about that truth again. Their condition left them very lonely in the face of the difficulties encountered. It was chilling.

With his will to control everything, Alan had long since taken control of the wolf that inhabited him, fiercely refusing to be manipulated in any way. If the full moons didn't give him that satisfaction, he could still decide how he wanted to act, but unfortunately not what decisions were made.

"There's no need to thank me," he let his hands slide against the dry leaves. The ground was cool below, even more than the shady forest air. "Just try your best, and remember, it's alright not to immediately get it right," he knew today wouldn't be when she would be in full control. But perhaps she'd manage to transform.

She spoke, and he couldn't hold back a smile. Impatient, weren't we?

"If you want, you can try to materialise it, as if it was a bubble within." He crossed his ankles. It had been a while since he last needed to do so, but he remembered his first time trying. There was always this anger bubbling up in his hand. He'd moved it through him, he was not sure of how, up until it took up all the room. "You need to imagine it grows or… you could try to imagine it moving across your body." 

—

The patience exhibited by the elder wolf seemed to come in endless supply which was a stark contrast to their first meeting. Alex knew which she preferred, but that felt too much like admitting maybe her parents didn’t have things all right. If she was worthy of this sort of calm and respect now, that would mean she had been then too and that was too much to grapple with. The feeling of standing at a ledge waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop was easier to swallow. Maybe she was weaving a bit of a self-fulfilling prophecy with the inconvenient truth she kept stowed away in her back pocket, but it was becoming more difficult to not trust Alan. If he was singing the same tune at the end of this lesson when she inevitably failed then maybe she would tell him about the hunter and all the other reasons she felt like she needed to master this. But for right now, she would focus on the matter at hand. He was giving sage advice and she wanted to make him proud. 

“I do like bubbles,” she smiled with a feigned confidence. She knew well enough that the werewolf was always part of her. It could be felt in small parts of every day when instincts kicked in. Her reflexes weren’t necessarily better, but senses that allowed you to anticipate the smallest changes in the environment did make a difference. Sometimes, she could even feel the ferocity that wasn’t all her own. 

“I’ll give it a try.” Her eyes fluttered shut again and she tried to imagine the feeling of being in her werewolf form as something tangible. The experience was so heavily based in senses that she tried to engage all of them– the grass tickling her ankles, the rustling of leaves in trees, the thumping of their hearts, the smell of wet earth and something vaguely canine that had grown pleasantly familiar. She tried to move that bubble towards the sensory input and visualize how the werewolf would react. She tried to embrace how the wolf would feel it. Part of that was to keep close to Alan, some form of pack instinct she was sure, but also she found her head inclined to move toward directions of different stimuli. Still, something was holding her back. She tried to cling to that feeling, but it felt… vulnerable. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

She chewed nervously on her lower lip. “Do you think,” she started and trailed off uncertainly. There was a long pause as she tried to think of what would help. Maybe she’d feel less observed, less like she was being tested if he wasn’t watching… which seemed a little unfeasible, but maybe if he went first. “Sorry, uh, do you think you could go first? I think I’ll feel… less nervous. The bubble thing was definitely helping just… yeah.” 

—

“You want me to go first?” Alan wondered if she’d ever seen someone transform before. It wasn’t a pretty sight, bones popping, creaking, moving under the skin, adopting abnormal angles. He worried for no reason. She’d been doing this longer than him, but he couldn’t put her youthful looks behind that. It just made no sense to him, that someone would harm someone her age and yet, here they were. It was very stupid of him to be worried he might spook her. This hit him like a second thought, and made him smile. “Alright,” looking over at the young woman, the werewolf got himself up, his age showing as he pushed on his hands and failed to repress a grunt. 

He wondered, sometimes, if lycanthropy made it all worse or better. Was it slowly fucking up his bones or would he have had it so much worse without it? Either way, his back was not as young as before. 

Now what was the right course of action : shift effortlessly or pretend it was hard? He felt like either way, she would be concerned but perhaps there was more hope to be found in an easy looking feat. Alan had long replaced the anger within with something more contained, still, the pain of shifting was for a long while what made him lose control over himself. One last time, he looked at Alex, a reassuring look in his eyes letting her know that he trusted her. “And remember, it’s alright if you don’t get it right today. It might take longer,” his smile grew more confident and he left the werewolf take all the room, pushing against every bone, every muscle until there was nothing human about his groans, nothing left of him but what was inside.

—

Alex nodded. The idea of him going first felt like it took some of the pressure off her, not that he was the one applying any pressure to her in the first place. It was becoming more and more apparent that was of her own design, that Alan had no expectations for her other than that she tried which didn’t seem right. How could he not expect more from her? “Please,” she answered meekly. 

There were more reassurances that she gave a soft smile for before she watched Alan turn into a wolf. Alex had never seen the shift from this side before, but she could imagine based on her own experiences that it was about as brutal as it looked. It was fascinating in its own way too and thankfully not quite so bloody that it made her stomach turn. If anything it made her feel the presence of the wolf in her more. As she watched his limbs twist and turn into something more lupine and covered in dust-speckled brown fur, her own instincts and senses felt heightened as if the werewolf in her knew this was her pack. 

For a few moments, all Alex could do was stare at Alan in his werewolf form. He already towered over her normally, but like this he seemed larger than life. When she was a kid, the sheer size of werewolves always intimidated her. She never really wanted to fight them, she’d wanted to hide. Some weird twist of fate meant she never made it to that stage of her training, but she felt no need to hide now. The beast before her was a friend and when he was like this, the wolf in her wouldn’t let her deny that he was becoming something closer to family. She smiled at the shifted werewolf, “You look pretty badass for an old guy.” 

Her own laughter followed her joke and she could practically imagine the wolf giving her an eye roll for continuing to call him old. It became easier to connect with and feel the werewolf within herself and the balance between the two felt foreign, but nice. Alex held onto the feeling and let her mind race through her senses instinctively as the wolf would. Alan in his majestic yet undoubtedly dangerous form seemed to be watching her, as if silently guiding her through the process. 

With every sound, her eyes flicked to follow it or her nose turned to pull in the scent. The werewolf in her felt like it was just at the surface, ready to come out, when the smallest sound in the brush caught her attention. Alex found her eyes falling on a familiar face though not one she had met personally. She’d memorized his features from the photo Andy sent her and the way his dark eyes scrutinized her from a distance. Something ferocious crawled under her skin and she found herself caught in a web of both shame and anger as he studied her. Her fists clenched at her side in an effort to play it off as her own attempt to shift, but then she saw the flash of metal in his hand and the gun cocking which fired off every instinct in her. 

The wolf within that she had been grasping at came to the forefront and her bones mashed themselves into the monstrous form she’d spent so long being ashamed of. A small part of Alex wondered what the hunter’s face looked like as he watched her shift. Had he known he was dealing with two werewolves or had he assumed she was a traitor to their hunter code? It didn’t matter, the more human thoughts quickly subsided as the freshly transformed werewolf barreled toward Alan as the gunshot rang through the field. All four of her paws found the ground to give her as much speed as possible as she raced to intercept the bullet. There were barely seconds between her colliding into Alan to move him from the bullet’s path and her own yowl escaping as silver burned into her back left hip. As if in argument, the pained howl continued as icy blue lycanthrope eyes stared the hunter down. She didn’t want to hurt the man, but she hoped the prospect of two werewolves was enough to make him run before Alan attacked. 

—

This was how it all went. Everything. One minute, everything was fine, the next, a shit storm. Such was life. Or such was his life the moment he left his parents' house. He wondered if perhaps any and all people could relate to it, if any and all parents tried their best to shield their kids for as long as they could from the storm. In Alex's case, Alan knew that she didn't even get that. She never got quiet,simpler times. Things were always complicated. 

Maybe this was why she reacted faster. 

By the time the older werewolf's eyes set on the hunter, he already had taken an aim at him. He didn't see the girl transform, and she took him by surprise as well, pushing him aside, out of harm's way. All for what. Once again, Alan wondered how someone would harm someone her age. Werewolves and hunters, both equally monstrous.

He could hear her pain, heart wrenching and unfair. Picking himself up, the grey wolf, worried as he might have been, moved forward. If he put up a fight, maybe she’d have time to run away from here. Hope. It was all he had. Alan rushed towards the hunter, his brown eyes filled with pain and disgust. The werewolf deserved to be hunted. He had used his abilities for his own gain, he had also killed many hunters to feed his friend. If he could regret the former, he felt not the slightest ounce of sorrow for the latter.

The hunter busying himself with his weapon, Alan thought he had a chance of knocking him down before he reloaded. A shot contradicted him, then a burn in his shoulder confirmed his mistake. He who often thought he was smarter than everyone else, howled in pain, and came to rest his back against a trunk, hoping to escape the hunter while he regained his wits.

—

The fact the afternoon had been going so well should have been a giveaway. Despite her nerves, Alex had been shown patience over and over again by the older werewolf. Just like dancing in the cave with Cass, this lesson with an older werewolf who was easy to see as a father figure was too good to be true. Those kinds of connections were only afforded to people who deserved them and she knew she didn’t, especially considering she hadn’t even warned Alan about the hunter who was crashing the lesson he was so kindly giving her. 

Pushing Alan out of the way had gone well enough, but time felt like it froze around the younger wolf as the silver bullet burned into her hip. No amount of training had made Alex any better at handling pain, at least not such violent pain. The shift had become more natural and didn’t leave her bones feeling heavy for days following the full moon, but this seared and dug into her in a way that felt unbearable. It was almost impossible to ignore, but her nose was quick to pick up the change in Alan’s scent. 

The older werewolf was ready to attack and protect. The thoughts were a bit different as a wolf, Alan’s instinct to protect felt natural, but her own self-loathing thoughts were still mixed with the instinct. She let out a sound between a howl and a grumble in protest, but he was already rushing toward the hunter. The younger werewolf wanted to stop him, to keep him from inevitably eating the hunter because it was wrong, but every breath through the pain felt labored. 

Her own heart pounded in her ears as she watched Alan race toward the hunter only for the deafening sound of another gunshot to echo through the field. Another pained yelp escaped from Alex, but this time, it was not from her own pain. For a flash, she saw Alan’s life and death flash before her eyes, but he was moving again and she felt a wave of relief. He was leaning against a tree and she looked to the hunter… who was running off? Why was he running off? She guessed two werewolves was a bit much for any hunter, but the fact he was running off didn’t bring her any comfort. 

The younger werewolf looked to Alan whose dusty brown fur was becoming coated in blood as he leaned against a tree that was surely bearing the brunt of his weight. He was hurt and it was her fault. She’d lied to him and now he was hurt. She’d put him in danger despite all he was doing for her and the guilt coiled through her like a hurricane. Somehow, even her werewolf form could tremble and she hated herself for that on top of everything else. The blood seemed to be coming from the shoulder and he appeared okay enough leaning against the tree he was at. With the hunter out of sight, that just left the two of them… which meant facing Alan and the inevitable disappointment with the fact she’d lied, with the fact she’d wanted to protect that hunter, too. 

After all the patience and diverted expectations, Alex didn’t think she could face him. She’d let herself feel hopeful that she could find something in the older werewolf. A pack? Maybe? Some part of her knew it was deeper than that and the guilt made everything in her feel like it was on edge, so all she could do was run. It was part instinct, but Alex knew she couldn’t chalk it all up to that. Her own fear had a death grip on the wheel as she barreled away from the scene of the attack and toward anywhere else. After all, why had she thought she could be any less disappointing to a defacto father figure than she had been to her own father? Alan would be okay and better without her bringing problems into his life, even if it was a lot more than the bullet in her hip that ached as she raced away through the trees. 

[goodfish-bowl]

A Mercy

Ectoberhaunt Day 6: Freeze

AO3 Link

Summary: "You're actually going to tell them this time?" "Yeah, Jazz. No backing out this time. Is everything all laid out? Have Sam and Tucker briefed you on the 'if my parent's decide to dissect me' plan?" "Of course. I even helped improve it." "Okay, are you ready?" "As I'll ever be. Let's get to it, then."Unfortunately, the plan was of no help whatsoever. 

Warnings: Character Death, Euthanasia, Heavy Angst

Words: 1454

Notes: You know... I’ve been really mean to the boy. Now I’m being horrid to both of them. Also not joking about the warnings for this one. It takes a certain type of angst to make my stomach hurt while reading/writing.

@ectoberhaunt

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Out of all the situations Jazz had imagined Danny’s revealing going, this one made the blood in her veins turn to ice and freeze in place on the top of the stairs down to the lab. There was nothing she could do, not at this point. He’d only been left alone with their parents for a few hours, a safe amount of time. If the worst case scenario happened, her parents wouldn’t have enough time to get too far into a vivisection of her brother. Jazz would be able to get him out of that. This, though, there was nothing she could do.

Danny was already gone. 

It was a mercy, her parents told her, finding her at the top of the stairs, staring down at her brother’s corpse. A mercy. He must’ve been suffering, living as a ghost, always hurt and struggling. It was better this way, better for their baby boy to finally get some rest, since it seemed like he hadn’t since he became one. They would mourn him properly, give him a good burial, like he deserved, especially after continuing on for so long, not only as Danny Fenton, but for his deeds as Phantom as well. It couldn’t have been easy. And because they loved him, they had to do this. It was the only thing they could do.  

Danny was dead, lying on a table in the lab, human, not a hair out of place. He looked like he would wake up any minute. He already slept like the dead, barely breathing in human form. But every subtle movement he would normally make was gone, no twitch of the eye-lids or mummer.

Jazz left the house soon after, having said not a word to her parents. She packed her things, sent a message to Sam and Tucker, warning them not to stop by, then left. She made her way to the park, before pulling out her phone, ignoring the messages from her brother’s best friends, and dialed a number she hadn’t bothered with in a long while. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, darling. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you ever again.”

“Johnny, I need you to come pick me up.”

“Oh? And the brat won’t mind?” Jazz froze up again at the mention of her brother, thinking of him down in the lab.

“No. He won’t.”

“Then I’ll be there in a few.”

The line went silent as Jazz hung up and waited. She skimmed over the texts from Sam and Tucker. They were asking how the reveal went if they needed to be ready to send Danny off somewhere safe. Sam already had the bag and account ready. They wanted to know when and where to meet up. Jazz sent a quick text, that none of those things would be needed, and to get rid of them. She didn’t give any sort of explanation why.

Jazz scrolled through her contacts and rang Mr. Lancer’s personal phone number. He answered after only a single ring.

“Ms. Fenton, how can I help you? Is this about the group study session you have planned for next Thursday?”

“No, Mr. Lancer. I’m calling to talk about Danny.”

“Ah… I honestly expected to have this call with your parents eventually, but I’ve never been able to reach them. So, yes, Danny has been struggling academically and his attendance is nearly record breaking for Casper, but I have a feeling that’s not what you wanted to talk about?”

“No. Danny won’t be attending Casper High anymore. He’s going to need to be unenrolled.”

“Wait… what?”

“I’ll have all the proper paperwork sent to the school by Tuesday morning. I also won’t be in attendance, so I’d like to apply for early graduation if that’s possible.”

“I don’t… something’s happened with Danny, hasn’t it?”

Jazz took a deep breath in. “Yes. I’m sure it will become public knowledge shortly. But… as the teacher who really seemed to care about him, I appreciate everything you’ve done and tried with him. It really made a difference, even if it didn’t seem like it.”

The line on the other side was silent for a minute, and she thought she could hear the familiar English teacher curse in the book title Beloved faintly in the background. “Very well, Ms. Fenton. I’ll… I’ll stay in touch if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lancer. Have a good evening.”

“Stay safe, Jasmine.”

The line went dead.

A portal ripped open not too far from where Jazz stood, and a familiar motorcycle sped out it, circling her before coming to a quick halt. Johnny looked at her curiously, and Shadow prodded at her feet. Without a word, Jazz jumped onto the motorcycle, wrapping her hand around Johnny for security. Her throat tightened at the comfort, and her eyes stung. It was an ongoing fight to keep her face blank.

“Hey, princess, you know I have a girlfriend, right?” Johnny joked.

“Yeah.”

Johnny huffed out a laugh. “So where to?”

“Somewhere in the Zone. A good meeting place would work best.”

Johnny’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Are you sure?”

Shadow stopped swirling under the bike and prodded at her again, a frown on it’s dark face. It made eye contact with Johnny, communicating something in a way she couldn’t understand. Johnny’s smile faded, and he sent her a look of concern.

“Jazz, are you okay?” He asked softly, full of concern.

“No, but we need to go before my parents show up.”

Johnny sighed but relented all the same. The motorcycle roared to life and another portal opened up in their path. The transition from the realm of the living to the Ghost Zone was jarring, especially out of the safety of the Specter Speeder. But Jazz couldn’t find it in herself to care about what being exposed in the Zone could do to her. She had more important things to worry about.

Johnny didn’t say a word to her the entire trip, but Shadow kept checking up on her, Jazz appreciated the sentiment, but really wished Shadow would stop. Keeping her cool was already hard enough.

The meeting place Johnny picked was a bar, once that seemed to be closed, or at least unoccupied, at the moment. He parked his bike on the small patch of land in front before helping her get off. She took his hand and followed him inside.

Kitty was sitting in a booth by herself, a sour look on her face. She snapped to Johnny the second he walked in but froze upon spotting her. It looked like she was getting ready to yell, but Shadow sped over and told her something that defused her anger. Kitty backed down immediately and sent her a curious look.

Jazz took a seat at a table in the middle of the room. “How soon can the others get here?”

“Others?” Kitty asked.

“Jazz wanted me to contact all the regulars to Amity Park. Something happened. Probably something bad. I’m going to have Shadow go out and collect them.”

Kitty’s face pinched with concern, before she walked over to the bar top. There was a ghost that looked reminiscent of an ectopuss tending the counter, cleaning multiple glasses at once. She spoke to it and then walked back with a glass of water.

“Here, it’s safe for human consumption,” Kitty offered, and Jazz accepted it gratefully. She wondered if it would be better if they’d actually handed her something alcoholic.

“Do you want to tell us what happened, and we can explain it to the others? Not to sound mean, but you look horrible, Jazz,” Johnny asked.

Jazz took a deep breath. “Yeah… they’re more likely to listen to you than me anyways. I’m also not sure if I could actually handle telling a large group. This wasn’t really part of the plan.”

“What plan?” Kitty inquired.

“For when Danny came out to our parents.”

“Oh… I’m guessing it went south?” Johnny guessed.

Jazz curled into herself and around her glass of water.  

“It was too late when I got back. We’d been so sure of what the worst-case scenario was, that we didn’t even consider this… They called it a mercy, of all things. We were prepared for if they tried to attack him, or even dissect him, but they didn’t even hurt him. Hell, it looked like he was sleeping.”

Jazz’s eyes welled with tears that she could no longer hold back. “He’s gone, Johnny. They put him down, like some sort of injured animal. He didn’t even have a chance to plead his case. He was dead when I got back, and he’s not coming back this time.”

[muchadoaboutnot]

⚔️

It's typical and of course, comforting the first person to come to her is Varric.

Composed, unconcerned, airy attitude he has about him tells her everything she needs to know. Obviously, he saw her walking around with Samson earlier and needs to know every detail STAT.

"So... Where's your friend?"

"Taking a bath."

"How scandalous."

Is their first exchange. The laugh that both of them emit is as familiar as if they were blood family, but she thinks made family does the job even better. Either way the pair walk side by side and shes in a much better mood than when she left the tower. Yet Varric's voice brings her back to her task, she's steering them towards the small stalls that have been set up in a makeshift marketplace the Hold has. "I thought you were supposed to be watching him at all times? Sparkler let a few of us know what's going on after Lucky told him."

"I locked the tower door, he's not getting out."

Her response makes Varric chuckle because technically Leto is already not holding up her part of the deal but she was never one to listen to rules.

"He'll be fine! He's got a hot bath, a whole room... Sans food and water, but he'll get that later."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about a human or a Mabari?" The playful tone is there in Varric's voice but something else.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying, he's not a plaything, you just lock him in the tower and walk off."

Leto thinks about Varric's words but gives the shorter man a look of her own unconcern. "I'm aware he has feelings, thoughts, and many other things- but I'm not going to wait in the tower while he bathes when I can easily accomplish getting him new clothes so when he's done he doesn't have to wear his prison clothes."

To emphasize that, Leto walks them over to one of the vendors that has standard-looking shirts and pants. Pre-sewn for all the people who've joined the army so far, it's easier than sewing on the spot for the sheer amount of people.

"Shopping for him? Wife activities if I've ever seen, and coming from you?" Varric gives Leto a lively look. While she herself just hushes him.

"So you're going to say Mabari first and now he's my husband? Make up your mind."

"Hey, you said husband, not me."

Leto's mouth is in a line, causing Varric to grin and raise his eyebrows at her.

"No. No this is not like one of your novels, Hard in Hightown. We are not playing at any games, I literally just took him from the cells and am..."

"Caring for him."

"It's required, he can't exactly walk around freely and do it himself."

After that Varric does drop it, letting Leto pick out several outfits that'll last training sessions and a normal day in the Hold. Everything is folded and placed into a rucksack.

"Did you hear about Orlais?" They're walking back now and the change of subject is appreciated, so when Varric brings up Oralis she raises one eyebrow in curiosity.

"No? Well, that's not true, I heard about what happened with... Blackwall or Rainier... I don't know... How should we address him now?"

"He goes by his name now. Thom Rainier, since you know, The Inquisitor pardoned him. But no, that's not what I'm talking about."

Intrigued now, Leto gives Varric her full attention as they walk on, passing a few people who say hello.

"Something is broiling over there."

"Something is always happening with those people, it's their past time to be dramatic."

Varric concedes and does nod his head, but he pushes on.

"No, no, but there might be a big party in a few months and I hear The Inquisition might be invited."

Leto is unsure at this point whether to still be interested or not, she does like courtly intrigued but at the same time it brings up old memories and it dampens the fun. Her mother made her act like a noble once upon a time, or tried, which granted she was noble on her mother's side. But mostly Leto just felt like... Nothing really. Just herself.

"Oh? Who do you think Hestia will take with her?"

"If she could, probably all of us. Even you and Beatrice included. But I know the council will have to come: Ruffles, of course, Nightingale, and Curly. But I know for sure Buttercup."

They exchanged knowing looks at each other.

"... Saw them eating cookies together on the roof."

"See. That's the romance I like to see, simple pleasures."

The smile each of them has on their face is the warm gooey kind, yet they're each thinking about something different as they walk together. Companionable silence between them now.

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[slowpoke-fics]

Scent | Mate Series

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Derek x Y/N

Summary: Derek is getting suspicious of you, you're hiding something and he wants to know what

Warnings: not really I think but just in case, as always, read at your own risk

A/N: This is Part One | Next Part

This whole thing is a whole family pack au and mate au, OC stuff in later chapters but I really loved writing this and love the idea of a family pack <3

You walked into Scott’s house, happily smiling at everyone gathered around the table, noticing that even Derek had showed this time. The wolves seemed to carry on about their business as you muttered something about dinner and moved to the kitchen. “I don’t like that ya know?” You jumped a little, turning to Derek and smiling in confusion. He sniffed the air, “All I can smell is your strawberry shortcake lotion. You use too much.” You scoffed, turning to the food, “I don’t care, go smell someone else.” He shook his head, “Why? I don’t like not being able to smell you.” You looked at him, eyebrows raised, "Derek, I know what you wolves do, it's a violation of privacy, I like my emotions being mine." Derek huffed under his breath, "Just trying to care." He turned and walked out of the kitchen.

You couldn't help but wonder if you'd been excessively hateful, but you were right. You knew better than anyone, wolves violate your privacy whenever they can by just smelling you, let alone with serious practice what they can do. You could never keep a secret around a pack of wolves, and living in Beacon Hills with the extra wolf sense going around is no different. It's better to just hide your scent all together. You of course knew how to do this very well without the nifty supernatural trick; putting lotion over your scent glands regularly, wearing tight clothes, and lots of deodorant. You sighed to yourself as you thought of how different it could be if you could come clean.

Derek hung back after the meeting, watching as you waved everyone goodbye, claiming he was cleanup help since you cooked. "What's up Derek?" Scott said once the door shut. "Y/n," Derek started, turning to Scott, hand rubbing his scruff nervously, "has she always covered her scent like that?" Scott's eyebrows furrowed, "Now that I think about it, yeah, why?" Derek shrugged, acting like it was no big deal but wanted to put the fuze out before it went to far, "Dunno, she's just the only one that does it, even Lydia with the amount of crap she wears, I can smell her," he sighed, "it's like Y/n is hiding something man, I've just never once smelled her." Derek shook his head, "I mean, it's never bothered you? Not being able to smell her?"

Scott could sense something he hadn't ever before with Derek, a sense of need, like when Stiles called to him when he almost lit himself on fire. "She just wants her privacy, she knows we can smell fear, anxiety, joy, embarrassment," he slapped Dereks shoulder, "relax man, are you really worried Y/n is out to get you?" Dereks hands fell next to him, "Something like that." Derek said his goodbyes to Scott and happily Stiles, as over the years he's grown to love the wild man, and left wondering about you.

At the next pack meeting, this time in his loft, you were the last one in again. As everyone was catching up and cutting up, Derek found his way beside you, "I don't like that one, it smells sour, what is it?" You blushed just slightly, "I don't know some cucumber mix." Derek huffed, "If all I can smell is fake shit, at least something good, citrus, sweet or somethin'," he shrugged as he made his way to the table.

You'd all been discussing new training for the supernatural creatures drawn in by the Nemeton and handling the strays that don't fall in line with the help of the argents. Derek was next to you, something you knew was no coincidence as he'd swapped places with Scott at some point. He reached over to the map in front of you, trying to rub just your shirt, but you slyly moved your arm, muttering an apology, "Oh, sorry," but Derek didn't miss the extra heartbeat, even if just for a second. What is going on with you?

A few days later you find yourself climbing in the passenger of Stiles' jeep, just leaving your house after reapplying lotion, knowing that you were going to Dereks' for pack training. "Scott needed a ride today, that okay?" Stiles quizzed you, studying you as you answered with a hum. "Everything alright?" he reiterated, turning the music up. You shrugged, "I just have a feeling something is going on." Stiles gave you a sympathetic smile as he pulled up to Scott's.

Scott climbed in Stiles' back seat, glancing at you, consciously aware that you only smelled like mixed berry lotion, smiling, "Hey, Y/n, how was your day?" You shrugged, "The usual, excited for some pack time." Scott listened to your steady beat, kicking himself for even listening. The ride to Dereks normal while you intently listened to Stiles ramble. It was impossible not to notice that something was bothering Scott, you just hoped it wasn't you.

Scott was the first to knock on the door, Stiles following impatiently while you stood behind the two men. Derek slid the door open, looking over the two men and directly smiling at you, welcoming you all in. You followed closely in behind Stiles, narrowly missing Derek. You sense him reaching forward, out for the small of your back, you quickly stepped out of the way and to the kitchen, hoping your heartbeat was steady. "So what am I making?"

You worked on finishing up the tacos, careful to clean up any mess you made and wash the used pans. You had Liam lay out the table who was cooling off from a tough session with Isaac. He was really slinging the plates down, you put your hand just inches from his, stopping him from laying another plate down, "Liam," his eyes connected with yours, "listen to my heart, get yours to match it." Liam shook his head, starting to lay another plate down, clearly frustrated, but you spoke again, "Liam," you sighed, "it is okay to lose control and get angry, but get it back. Take a breath, control your heart rate, ground yourself." Liam took a deep breath in as you guided him, smiling at you before gently setting the plates down. You could feel the anger dissipating from him as he did.

"Thank you for helping," you muttered as you rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, making sure your sleeve covers your bare hand, smiling at him, "I'm gonna go get them." You walked into the training room, sweat and power smacking you in the face, "Dinner's ready!" Scott and Derek let go of each other, playfully draping their arms around each other, "You wanna spar, Y/n?" Derek asked and you laughed, a sound that blessed his ears, "Uh, no thank you, I'll leave that to the big bad wolves." Scott smiled, "Come on! Even Stiles trains!" Stiles jumps at this, pointing to Scott, "Hey!" Causing everyone to erupt into laughter, you smiled, "Who else is gonna cook?" At that Stiles interjected again, heading to the meal, "Not it!"

After you all ate you helped Liam collect and wash dishes, Derek watching you dodge every corner of the tablecloth, studied your moments as you put up pates, careful to not touch them with your bare hands. He thought to himself as he watched you that he was reading way too much into it. That you were just a private polite person, but something was rubbing him the wrong way, something he was missing. As you put away the last dish, Stiles stood up, smiling, "Bye, sour wolf." Derek glared at him but turned to you who was side by side with Stiles, your arm around his waist, also heading out, "See you later, sour wolf."

Scott trailed behind, making sure you and Stiles were out of earshot. "Man, what is your problem I can literally see the fury coming off of you." Derek glared at Scott, "Y/n, she just-" Scott rolled his eyes, "You can't be serious, not with this again." Derek rubbed his face, "Man, I'm telling you," he shook his head, clearly troubled, "She won't let me touch her! At all, I'm talking not even an accidental brush," Derek spoke lower, "She wouldn't train because that causes sweat, we could smell her, won't even touch the tablecloth. She washes every dish she uses, won't touch the plates with her bare hands? The plates?" Scott could tell Derek was genuinely upset by this, "Why does this bother you so much man?" Derek sighed, "I don't know," he drug broth his hands over his face, an attempt to rub the stress away, "I don't think she'd hurt us of course, but she's definitely- Scott, there's too many questions I need answered." Scott sighed, "Okay, if it means that much to you, I'll look into it." Scott started walking and that's when you snapped back into Stiles honking the horn of the car, you giggling with him as Scott came rushing out.

How much longer could you hide your secret?

[stagemanagerssaygo]

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

[saipng]

so this is not really a fic or a prompt but something in between… but hey, if anyone wants to do something grand with it, be my guest!

a speculation on what happens to jason and salim after they leave the nightmare; time and reunion, one fate and all that’s meant to be (around 4.5k words, just a little something for all y'all house of ashes fans)

After the events in Iraq, Jason did not hesitate to quit the army.

The hesitation that followed and forced him to postpone his decision walked in wearing bright colored hazmat suits and sporting clipboards. The questioning in the on-site facility took hours that bled into days, and by the time their little group was woken up with blaring horns and the whirring sound of helicopter blades, they were all convinced that they would never leave. Rachel held onto Nick as tight as she could. Eric’s jaw was squared, but he was silent. Jason was the first to board the choppers, the first to step into the military base airport, the first to hop on the plane that would take them “home” (a word that sounded so vile he could hardly believe that that was where they were headed).

Home, of course, was not all that.

It was another facility, and more hazmat suits. It was blood tests and interviews and rooms with no windows. He couldn’t tell how much time had passed until he actually saw another human face, not covered by a layer of protective clothing, not hidden behind a monitor or one-way glass.

She introduced herself as Dr So-and-so and she told him they had great news. She told him they finally identified the source of their “shared hallucination”.

She told him it was gas.

By that point, Jason was mad enough to cry.

He doesn’t really remember lunging at the woman, but he does remember the bruises from being manhandled back into his cell – his “personal quarters”, they called it, but he knew what it was. They all knew.

He was a goddamn prisoner and his guards were trying to convince him that all he knew was a lie.

What followed was even more bizarre than the whole ordeal in the temple. Photographs, blood results, data, charts, and graphs that all pointed to there being nothing but a dusty old tomb down in the ground. Group therapy with his old comrades and a vomit of scientific mumbo-jumbo that explained the composition and effects of the gas.

They showed them photographs of the recovered bodies of Clarice, Joey, Merwin.

They weren’t eaten. Weren’t turned.

Joey died from Iraqi bullets, Merwin bled out.

Clarice looked like she starved to death.

The day after their third group session they were allowed to roam the facility “freely”. This meant visit each other, walk up and down their shared hall. Socialize in privacy.

Jason kept staring at the cameras in his room and said nothing.

It was gas, they told him. Gas that made them all hallucinate. Gas that made them believe they were all in grave danger. Gas that had them conjure up vampire parasites from outer space.

Gas.

It was six months later that Jason finally saw the light of day again, being allowed to walk and return to normal life once their readings proved them “stable”.

He didn’t want to know what that entailed. How broken they all were by the end of it.

The night before release, Nick visited. He kept asking about the future, what they were going to do, what options they had left. They would always be watched, they knew that much. The amount of paperwork to sign was massive - not so much a non-disclosure agreement as a deal with the devil itself.

The information about the gas, they said, couldn’t be made known. The public, they said - the public would panic if they knew something so potent existed.

One step out of line, and they would all be back in therapy.

Therapy.

“Hey.” Nick’s soft voice rang out to his right. Jason didn’t bother turning back to face him. Just kept staring at the wall.

��What are you thinking? Talk to me.”

The tiny crack that formed from an impact with an angry fist kept growing in size each day. It became his secret friend, that tiny black lightning among the white concrete. Jason would imagine it swallowing him whole, the whole building crashing down right with it.

He sighed, waving a goodbye to his dear old friend.

“I miss him, Nicky. I miss him so goddamn much.”

They stood there in silence. Nick didn’t have to ask. He knew.

And then they were released.

And then Jason quit the army. No hesitation whatsoever.

In the end, it still came as a surprise.

He was offered the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, a considerable step up from his last position. They offered to station him back at home base. They offered him a team.

Jason said “no, thank you” and walked out the door after failing the psychological examination. Potent signs of PTSD, depressive disorder, generalized anxiety.

Unfit for duty, they called him.

And Nicky felt betrayed.

It came as a surprise to Jason, then, that hedecided to stay behind and serve in active duty. He had a strong feeling it had more to do with Rachel’s decision to remain in the army than anything else in particular, but it was still something Nick was passionate about.

Protect and serve and all that-

That is, until fourteen months later he came back home with an injury severe enough it left him paralyzed below the waist.

They called him a good soldier. They said he deserved to retire early.

Rachel quit the following month, and it was the toughest decision of her life.

And Nicky spent the next year of his life near catatonic.

Jason referred him to his therapist.

His first one, not his second. He already quit the second one himself and was looking for a third.

If there was literally anything remotely useful that he had gathered from the sessions, it was that writing was a good way to sort through the bullshit that kept bubbling up his brain like sewage water.

He was never a man of many words.

It was a struggle to bring the pen to paper.

Once he began, though…

Once he began, he found that he couldn’t stop.

He wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote until he filled out nearly forty odd pages with memories from Iraq.

From the checkpoint.

From the temple.

From the worst nightmare of his life.

He poured down on paper everything the shrinks in CENTCOM tried to suppress, to erase, to destroy and burn to cinders. He wrote down every gory detail, every pained breath, every shared smile, every revered touch.

He wrote it all-

And then he stashed the papers in the bottom drawer of his nightstand and never touched them, ever again.

Nine months later he arrived at Nick’s door and asked him if he could write his story - that last battle that made him unable to serve. Unable to walk.

Rachel nudged his side, and reluctantly, Nick agreed.

In another couple months, it would become the first story Jason published in a major journal. It would also be the story that would eventually get Nick country-wide recognition - and a medal of honor bestowed by the President himself.

After that, he did begin to feel better, albeit it wasn’t the story or the piece of metal that cut the deal.

It was the letters he began receiving from thankful citizens all across the fifty states.

And Jason would go on writing.

“Who knew you had a secret talent all this time, huh?” Eric teased him one day. He was the last of them to quit the army, but eventually, even the resident genius crippled under the pressure. He didn’t specify his reasons - Jason was beginning to think maybe he was forced to bail.

He still remained one of the most important civilian advisors for CENTCOM, which begged the question of whether him no longer being in the army was just a technicality.

And despite everything, Eric became a frequent guest at Nick’s and Rachel’s new home. These kinds of things, well - they either drove people apart or brought them closer together. And in their case, not many others could relate to the experience of inhaling metric tons of hallucinogenic gas that resulted in the imagining of the worst hell on earth.

After couple of years of moping, he even found himself a new girlfriend. She became part of the group just as well. Her and Rachel have girls’ night every second Friday.

Jason is sometimes allowed to join in.

And that is because Jason has been discovering things about himself along the way, too.

His first therapist suggested his complete disinterest in women was an understandable side effect of PTSD and that he shouldn’t push himself too hard to get out there again. His second therapist claimed it was downright unnatural and that he should get over himself and try harder to recover. He really didn’t like his second therapist.

His third therapist implied that perhaps his attractions simply didn’t lie with women at all.

It was that same week that Jason found himself hooking up with a bearded bartender in a bustling bar in the city’s downtown.

In all honesty, the realization that he was gay was terrible.

And then he met a handsome writer on his trip to Canada – and then it was no longer terrible.

And then the handsome writer cheated on him eight months later with a drunken college student looking to experiment on his Spring Break, and then it was terrible again - though for entirely different reasons this time.

All in all, Jason has accepted his sexuality with the same grace and dignity that he accepted the rest of the clusterfuck that was the ultimate conflation of his life. That is to say, he got drunk, picked up smoking, wrote, and then threw the pages that he wrote down into the toilet and flushed them.

It clogged up. He had to call a plumber.

An older Egyptian man that cursed at him in Arabic. Something about entitled rich Americans. Jason laughed, and told him to fuck off.

The decision to learn the language wasn’t even his, really. Not at first, at least. He doesn’t remember how it began, but he picked up a few words from Rachel back when they were still in action, and then he picked up some more when they were having dinner back in the States. And then she turned it into a game, a la Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.

Soon enough, Jason was seeking tutors and taking classes.

His first therapist disapproved. He said it was a bad idea, might put him into a regressive state, trigger his PTSD.

His second therapist - oh, screw her. She was adamantly racist, and all in all made him fall back into his nasty habits worse than he would have on his own.

His third therapist told him it could be healing. His fourth therapist concluded that if he found it something worth pursuing, there could be no harm.

Jason was no linguist, but he tried his damnest. It was the least he could do to keep his mind awake, prevent himself from beginning to lose it yet again.

He used his skills to talk to the Iraqi refugees in the US. He told their stories.

He was a damn good writer.

The first award he ever won was for a story of two soldiers that killed a girl carrying a bag of groceries. Their names, he claimed, were lost to history.

And that night, he and Nick had their first ever serious fight. It wasn’t about the story. It wasn’t about the checkpoint. In fact, Jason couldn’t be sure what it really was about.

All he could remember was Salim’s name, and the taste of copper on his tongue.

He broke up with his then-boyfriend that same evening, when he was no longer so drunk out of his mind that he could hardly string two words together. After a bought of the longest silence in the world, the man only sighed. Said he knew it was coming. Said there was no healing a heart that belonged to someone else.

They hung up, and Jason cried for the first time in six years.

Nick couldn’t remember what the fight was about, either. The next day Rachel and Eric adamantly refused to tell them the details - said if their drunken minds decided to block it out, it was for the best.

Jason apologized nonetheless, and Nicky did the same.

“Do you still miss him?” Nick whispered then, in the quiet of the living room, nothing but the fireplace cracking away in the dark. The clock struck midnight, and the neighborhood dog barked thrice.

“Nah, not as much. Not as much as I used to.”

Nick stared into the flames, a smirk painted on his lips.

“There’s that tell again.”

And so life went on. And on, and on, and on.

It would be two more years until Jason finally got the guts to publish his first novel - eight years since he escaped the fateful nightmare.

The reason was simple enough, really - the end of the Iraq War.

It wasn’t a decision he could very well discuss with others, not with the things written, with the words he put on paper. They didn’t exactly discuss the events of the temple as a group.

Not as though it was a forbidden topic, per se, but the men in suits stopping by at the end of every week in the first few months of their release made conversation difficult. Controlling the flow of information, they called it, asking them the same questions and recording the same answers.

Jason got a couple more visits than was strictly necessary after he became a published author. No doubt the big bad guys at Area 51 were terrified of their secrets leaking out.

He was a good boy, though. Kept his mouth shut. They all did.

And then the visits stopped and they still kept being good. They didn’t talk about it - because when the subject was inevitably brought up, Nick got angry; Rachel stormed out of the room, and Eric grew completely silent; Jason wanted to do nothing but scream and he was well aware that if he were to start, he wouldn’t stop.

So no, they didn’t talk about it. They continued not to talk about it when the book was published.

House of Ashes, Jason called it. He did his Sumerian research.

It was a New York Times Number One Bestseller in the first week of publishing. Every book these days was a New York Times Number One Bestseller. It wasn’t something Jason could be proud of.

He silently kept expecting the men in black to come tearing down his door any minute now.

No one ever did.

The others did not discuss the book with him. He didn’t even know if they read it and he didn’t care (at the very least, Rachel read it; there was a copy on the passenger side of her gray Sedan that she quickly tossed in the back when she was giving Jason a ride back home last week).

It probably did help that it took room under the Science Fiction genre.

Jason’s heart still twitched whenever he passed by a book store. He supposed that most of it, technically, was fiction - just not the parts that mattered.

He had a book tour celebrating the successful launch scheduled for the spring. Fourteen states, twenty seven dates. He was at his limit. His editor was over the moon, and his fifth therapist prescribed a larger doze of Prozac.

It was in another one of the big name bookshops that his mind abandoned his body yet again and began traversing the catacombs of his memory.

He was answering another question about the idea for the alien origins of the vampires in his book.

In reality, he was walking the dusty grounds of a temple buried deep underneath Iraqi soil. The rifle in his hands felt solid; his footsteps echoed across the empty halls.

Someone asked him about the meaning of the archeological crew. Why they all met gruesome, grizzly deaths.

Nicky was setting up a tripwire and Eric was manning the cams. From somewhere deep inside the tent, he could hear Rachel’s calculated muttering.

A question about the main character - a man named Haydar, peaceful shepherd that was swallowed by the earth and forced to deal with nightmares beyond his comprehension. His only goal was to survive.

To see his son again.

They were asking why. Who was the inspiration.

Jason turns around in his mind’s eye, and there he can see him. Wielding that same rusty piece of metal, stained black with blood of the creatures of the night. He smiles at him. Begins to walk closer. He extends his hand, and just like that…

“Thank you. It will be quick, I promise.”

“Right, right. But this is the last one, people! After that, we will proceed with the signings.” His editor announces, clapping way too loud next to Jason’s ear. “So, what’s the question?”

“It is about the ending of the book.” A voice states, and something in Jason forces him to reawaken. It stirs right beneath his throat, makes him sit up taller, but his eyes remain unfocused, far away. “As we know, Haydar is the only one of the group to survive, having witnessed the horrible deaths of his team. He makes it all the way to the surface, only to find out that the monsters, the horrors, and the tragedies were all in his head. Including the people he called friends.”

Jason stares at the table, not willing to look up. Unable to look up.

His hands are cold. Frozen solid.

“Yes, yes, what is the question, please?!” The editor’s voice is shrill. Impatient.

It’s brilliant, that voice is telling them, the ending is brilliant! Subversive! They’ll never see it coming.

“My question is this - what was the pointof the struggle, if in the end, none of it was real?”

His hands are shaking and he can’t look up and when he exhales, Jason is certain he can see a white puff of frozen air depart his lungs.

Perhaps it is the decade old dust, settled in from the temple, finally finding its way to the surface. Perhaps it is all the cigarette smoke he let gather over the years.

Perhaps it is his soul, travelling towards a voice it knew too well.

“The point,” He begins slow, uncertain. His throat doesn’t want to work, and his system is on high alert. He is back in Iraq, and bullets are flying over his head. Joey is bleeding out on the ground. He just gave the order to shoot a woman dead. “The point is that, even though everything was a myth, a legend, a hallucination - his pain was real. The emotions were real. The fact that it was all in Haydar’s head doesn’t make it any different.”

“Well, I don’t know,” The voice interjects before the editor can open his mouth to conclude the session, and Jason finally finds it in him to lift up his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you think that such a revelation would break an ordinary man?”

Salim is wearing a white shirt and dark blue dress pants. His jacket is in his hands that he keeps clasped in front of him. His hair is beginning to gray at the temples, but his eyes are bright and young. He’s smiling.

He’s sporting a new beard. It suits him.

“Then it’s a good thing Haydar’s no ordinary man.”

After the Q&A session is over, Jason feels like he can’t breathe. They take five to recuperate, and he throws up into a trash can behind some book stands. His editor hands him a glass of the coldest water this side of the globe, and only rolls his eyes when Jason tells him to bring by the man that asked the final question.

He does as he is told when Jason threatens to fire him on the spot.

And even then, he half expects to be met with someone entirely different - at this point in his life, he’s thoroughly convinced that hallucinating a man he’s met once eight years ago would be among the top ten things he’s most likely to do.

But when Salim steps into the back room, Jason doesn’t waste a single second before throwing his arms around his neck.

“You- But- Why- How?!” is all he can manage, gripping the other man by his shoulders as though letting go would result in him evaporating from this earth.

Salim just laughs - hearty, real. His smile is brilliant and theres just that much exhaustion in it. There is more gray in his temples than Jason noticed previous. He smells like peppermint and spiced cologne.

“I decided it was finally the time for me to tour America.” He smirks, his words floating up and overhead, light, easy. “After all, your great country has much sightseeing to offer.”

Jason can see the plane on him, in the wrinkles of his shirt, in the creases underneath his eyes. This must have been his first stop directly from the airport.

“But here- how are you here?”

“Why, is it so wrong of me to visit a good friend? I wanted to congratulate you on your success!”

The lights reflect against the hardcover copy in his hands. Jason grits his teeth and feels as though he would rather drop down into yet another hellish temple. He doesn’t like the idea of Salim reading it.

He doesn’t like the idea of Salim understandingit - even if that was the only reason he published in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have ever imagined you’d become such an accomplished writer, Jason.”

“Yes, well- It, uh, started out as a coping mechanism.”

“And you’ve done well for yourself. All those people out there, all that press… Honestly, I’m just happy I managed to catch the last date, before the tour was over.”

“The last… Right. Today is the last… Hey, listen…”

Eight years, he thinks, eight years you’ve had to think of what to say when you finally laid eyes on this man again.

But words refused to form, and Jason kept holding out on half a sentence up until his editor announced that he needed to get back in there for signing.

Salim just nodded at him.

“Well, you should get going. I don’t mean to keep your fans waiting.”

And something broke in him, then. Something sad. Something long-forgotten.

Jason clutched at his arm, eyes panicked, heartbeat in his throat.

Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave, his thought were screaming, and Salim knotted his brows. He didn’t step away, didn’t bulk at the sight of a shattered man - stepped closer, instead.

“Jason?” He raised a hand to his shoulder, steadying him.

Solid as a rock. Real. A crowbar flying inches from his head, impaling a horrid monster right behind him.

“Are you alright?”

“Tonight, we will be gathering, at Nick’s and Rachel’s.” He swallows down, breathing. “It’s a small thing, just the closest people, but it’ll be nice. You should come.”

Salim blinks at him wildly, shrinking in on himself. His sudden smile is small, but Jason doesn’t think it’s insincere. He can tell it isn’t.

They never left that damned cave.

“Oh! Well, I don’t know- They aren’t expecting me, I don’t want to intrude-“

“Nah, nah, stop that. The guys will be stocked to see you again. And anyway, we have this thing, everyone’s allowed to bring a plus one. Like a date or- or a friend.” He’s sputtering now, saying nonsense. His hands are shaking and the sweat from his palms is staining Salim’s shirt. “You can come as my plus one. You won’t be intruding. For sure.”

It takes a moment, but he finally gives in. Salim nods, and his smile grows in size.

“Well, alright then, Jason. I will come as your plus one.”

Jason smiles back and for once, it doesn’t hurt. There’s something miraculous about Salim’s presence here - suddenly, he’s eight years younger, and suddenly, the world is much bigger and scarier than ever before.

But he’s not afraid, and neither is the man beside him.

Jason laughs, before heading towards the door.

“Oh and, one more thing.” Salim stops him in his tracks, and before Jason has the chance to doubt him, he’s holding out the copy of the book. “Could you sign? I know I should’ve queued, but since we’re already here, I thought…”

Jason looks at him as though he’s grown another head. Salim shuffles in place, equal parts amused, ashamed.

“It’s- It’s not for me, it’s for my son. Zain. He’s sleeping in the hotel right now. I was hoping to surprise him.”

The book is worn at the edges, the pages scribbled over with a furious kind of regard. It was as though someone studied the text religiously, reveled in every word as though it was a stated fact.

Jason can’t help the tremble in his hand as he tries to make out a message.

“He a fan?”

“That’s an understatement of the year! The boy won’t shut up about you. At this point I don’t know which one of us talks about you more often, him or me.”

The book snaps shut with a particular kind of fervor.

“You talk about me?” He is unable to stop his mouth from uttering the words above the book held in suspense in between them - and he regrets them more the moment Salim’s eyes land on his. A certain expression settles in his features that makes Jason wish he would never utter a single word ever again.

And then the moment is broken, just like that, when his editor screams into the open door.

“Kolchek!”

“I’m coming!” He screams back, voice cracking, and the book with the scribbled message is now in Salim’s hands.

To my biggest fan, Zain. Keep making your father proud. You’re something worth fighting for. Best wishes,

JK

Jason throws one last look at Salim before exiting the back room, and finds something that gives him strength. It is then, he thinks, for the first time in eight years that he finally finds the strength to look forward again.

He thinks, for the briefest of moments, that everything just might turn out to be okay.

“I do. All the time.” Salim tells him, ducking his head away.

His smile is quiet.

And Jason’s own is threatening to split his face in half.

[oblxvion]

euphoric | eren jaeger (1)

-> pairing: eren jaeger x f!reader

-> wc: 5.4k

-> warnings: use of marijuana, smut, praise kink, degradation kink, spit kink, oral (f and m receiving), fluff

you were stressed. it was almost the end of the term, and you had spent the past two weeks studying and prepping for your exams because you needed those grades. you had been slipping a lot in your classes but you managed to bring your grades up with the help of your good friend armin. he was extremely smart and honestly, without him, you didn't even want to think about what your grades would be.

“ugh, sasha, i can’t study any more.” you groaned, bringing you head down to into the vast sea of review that you had been going over as per armin’s request. “i need a break, i feel like my brain is going to fucking explode.”

sasha looked over up from her phone and laughed. “it’s gonna be worth it, i promise. once you finish these exams, you’ll be able to relax for a bit. do you wanna smoke later ‘cause we’re all getting together later at eren’s, i forgot to tell you.”

you hadn’t checked your phone in the past few hours so you didn't know that there were plans that had been made. 

you didn’t move your head as you contemplated the thought, it sounded like fun to see everyone and ignore the work you had for at least a bit. exams weren’t for another week and a half, so you should be fine.

“yeah, i'll come.”

“yay! i’ll text the group chat and let them know that we’re gonna leave at around 6.” she squeals as she grabs her phone and starts typing away a text that you soon receive as well.

“ok, i need to nap first. plus it’s like 4 so i’m gonna pass out for a bit.” you got up from the kitchen table and made your way over to your bedroom, beginning to get comfortable. “wake me up at 5.” you yelled so she could hear from her room.

“you got it.” sasha yelled back. you could tell that she said that with food in her mouth. 

“typical.” you chuckled as you felt your body drift off to sleep.

“y/n! hey! wake up! it’s 5:30. i lost track of the time.” sasha tried to shake you awake in which you grumbled in response. 

“ugh, ur so timely.” you joked as you made your way out of your room, and into the shared bathroom. wow i look like shit you thought to yourself as you turned from side to side trying to see all of what you looked like in your oversized sweatshirt and shorts.

there was not enough time for you to get ready to look at least presentable, but you felt gross so you turned on the shower and threw your clothes into your hamper. you put on some music because who showers without music and you made sure to shave because it had been awhile since you had and you wanted to feel clean.

once you had finished, you grabbed a towel and checked the time on your phone. 5:40. perfect.

“y/n, we have like 20 minutes,” sasha called from her room. “do you think you can be ready by then?”

“yeah, i just need to dry my hair and throw on some clothes and i should be good.” you said as you walked into her room, she was pretty much ready to go, and dressed in shorts and a baggy t-shirt. no one really dressed up for these sessions because everyone was already super comfortable with each other.

“ok i’m gonna go change, i don't know if i’ll have enough time to dry my hair though.” 

“you’ll be fine. plus, we can be a bit late, they wouldn’t start without us anyways.” she says with a smile as she puts on a sweatshirt.

you made your way back to your room and threw on a pair of sweatpants, a loose fitting tank top and your favorite pullover. as you made your way back to the bathroom to dry your hair, you found yourself stressing once again about your exams to which you took a deep breathe and reminded yourself that you needed to relax and this was a well deserved break. 

after you finished drying your hair, you quickly ran a brush through it, and put on some deodorant along with your favorite perfume.

“ok sash, i’m ready.” you called from the bathroom as you fixed your appearance for the last time. 

“perfect! i ordered us an uber because i don’t really wanna drive and i know you don't like driving high.” she says as she grabs the last of her things and we make our way out the door and to the bottom of our apartment complex.

“soooo...” 

you look at her as the uber pulls over to the side of the road. “so what?”

“have u been seeing anyone recently?” sasha looks over to you as she gets into the uber after you. 

“how could i? i’ve literally been studying nonstop. i wish though.” you say with a sigh. you had been so preoccupied with studying and getting your grades up that you haven’t had the time to see anyone except friends. “why do you ask?”

“oh, it’s nothing really. i was just curious, you know, being your roommate and all.” somethings up, she’s clearly trying to pick at something and this does not go unnoticed by you.

“ok,” you laughed and shook your head. “whatever you say.”

before you knew it, you both arrived at eren’s apartment complex. for some reason, you felt anxious. you knew the boys that were going to be there but you had this gut feeling that something was going to happen.

the two of you made your way up to his floor and knocked on his door which was opened almost instantly as if he were waiting.

“sasha!” connie exclaimed, embracing the girl into a bear hug. “hey y/n.” 

“hey connie.” you smiled in response. it was really cute how the two of them were so close, it’s almost like they were twins. you made your way into the apartment and saw jean and eren, arguing over god knows what.

“hey guys!” you say as you walked over to the two of them, hugging them both. 

“y/n! it’s been a while. how’s studying with armin?” jean asks as he pulls away from the hug.

“god. don't even get me started. i am in hell. armin’s being so helpful though.” you chuckle as you walked over to eren, who was looking at something on his phone but quickly shoved it away when he saw you coming towards him.

“hey y/n.” he says with his boyish smile as he pulls you into a side hug and you notice that his hand lingers for a bit longer than normal but you smile in response.

“so, can we smoke now that they’re finally here?” connie asks as it was very clear that he was getting impatient. 

“yeah, yeah, let’s go to the deck.” eren’s apartment had a deck with was extremely nice and over time, it had become the signature smoke spot for you guys. it had an outdoor couch and a few chairs along with a small table which was perfect.

you made your way to your favorite spot which was the right corner of the couch so you could be close to the edge of the balcony and look out at the view of the city. everyone had their signature spots, it was like an unspoken rule but everyone followed it. eren next to you on the couch, sasha, jean and connie in the three chairs on the opposite side of the table.

there were some blankets already outside along with a speaker that eren played some music on to set the vibe. 

“since you guys were taking too long, i rolled us a joint so we could smoke sooner.” eren said as he sat down next to you.

“aw, how kind.” you tease him as you nudge yourself against his shoulder, earning a chuckle from him. “dibs on first hit.” 

“aw, c’mon!” jean whined, knowing that you always give the blunt to eren right after you hit. 

“i get priority since eren is my best friend.” you smirk and wait for eren to say anything but he just laughs and shakes his head. 

you and eren had always been close ever since you started school. he even introduced you to everyone, which was the reason why you were here with them now.

eren took out his lighter and lit the joint and passed it to you. you took it between your pointer finger and thumb and took a long drag. 

oh how you had missed this feeling. the feeling of being high with your friends. you passed the blunt back to eren as he took a hit himself and you exhaled the smoke.

the joint was passed around the circle until everyone had gotten a good amount of hits and it was finished. you felt your high and you leaned back into the couch as you closed your eyes.

“tired?” 

you opened your eyes and looked over to eren who’s eyes were red, just like yours. “no, just relaxing. this is nice. i needed this.”

“yeah, i noticed. armin told me that you’d been really stressed lately so i texted asking if people wanted to smoke but you didn't respond so i assumed you were studying,” he says as he stretched his arms and placed them just behind your shoulders.

“thanks,” you laughed as you stared into his turquoise eyes only now noticing how pretty they were. you had looked him in the eyes before but this time it felt different and he felt it too. but your staring was soon broken by sasha’s wails of being hungry.

“there’s food in the fridge, i had takeout last night so there’s probably some leftovers.” eren nods his head towards the inside of his apartment. sasha stood up and made her way towards the food as connie followed her.

“hey! save some for me!” he yelled as he chased after her. all that was left was you, eren and jean. there was clearly some tension in the air but you decided to ignore it.

“ain’t no way i’m gonna be third wheeling right now.” jean huffed quietly and joined the two inside. 

third wheeling? you ignored it because jean obviously knows that you and eren are close friends, nothing more.

oh, how you were wrong.

eren looked over to make sure that there was no way for the others to see the deck and he moved his arm down towards your shoulder. you were shocked by this, but in a way, it was comforting. 

“y/n?” he asked staring off into the distance.

“hm?” 

he didn't respond so you took it upon yourself to look up at him.

“what’s up?”

no response once again.

your lidded eyes becoming heavy as he looked down at you with a tender look on his face. he leaned his face closer to yours until your noses were touching.

“eren?”

his lips connected with yours, igniting a feeling inside your chest that you had pushed away when you first became close. you melted into the kiss and kissed him back in a slow and sensual kiss. eren pulled back and tucked your hair behind your ear as he went back in for another kiss. you didn’t know what to do but the feeling that this gave you, it wasn’t like any other kiss you had before.

“wanted to do this for a long time.” he whispers and rests his nose on yours. 

you didn’t know what to say in response so you pulled him back for another kiss that was interrupted by the three of them coming back out onto the deck. you pulled away quickly, hoping that no one had seen what just happened. eren kept his hand on your shoulder, but no one had asked about it so you just let it slide.

it had been a few days since you had last seen eren. everyone was texting in the group chat about plans for the upcoming days but you had to study, or at least try to study. the kiss that you and eren shared had been replaying in your head ever since it had happened. you knew that he was high and he may not remember it, but it still bugged you and you had to know.

but most importantly, this kiss had sparked feelings inside you that you had pushed away so long ago and it was beginning to get hard to consume them. eren was constantly on your mind, and you couldn’t focus on your work. 

you needed to talk to him but you didn't know how because you didn't know that he had these feelings for you and you didn't know that you still had those feelings for him. you realized that you were ignoring these feelings that you had for him because he was your close friend and you didn’t want that to ruin your relationship.

it was driving you crazy. you needed to talk to him. 

you grabbed your phone and clicked on eren’s contact and called him. it didn’t even finish the first ring.

“hey y/n! what’s up? how’s studying?” he said and you felt your heart swell at him saying your name, which never happened before until now.

“hey, can you come over later? i need to talk to you,” you sigh. this is it, you need to know if he truly had those feelings or he was just playing with you.

“yeah, of course,” he stammered. “is everything ok?”

“yeah, everything's fine, i just wanna talk to you.”

“ok, i can get a ride now if you want me to.” is he eager?

you looked at the time and remembered that sasha was out with connie and jean so she would probably not be coming back tonight.

“actually, yeah, that sounds fine. see you soon, eren.”

“ok, i’ll text you when i’m close.”

“ok,” you ended the call and placed your phone down, taking your head in your hands. you’re overreacting right? he definitely feels for you, why else would he kiss you?

“i need to shower.” you said to yourself, trying to ignore the thoughts in your head.

as you got out of the shower, you heard your phone get a text, which you assumed to be eren. walking back to your room, you heard a knock at the door and you froze. you were still in a towel and debating whether or not you should open the door for him, which you did because you didn't want to leave him standing out there.

“hey y/n, oh,” he stops and looks you up and down. 

“sorry, i just got out of the shower.” you say as you open the door and motion for him to come inside. “can you just wait a sec while i go put some clothes on?”

“oh, uh, yeah. i’ll wait in the kitchen.” he looks around and scratches the back of his head nervously. his hair was tied back into a messy bun like usual and wearing gray sweatpants with a black shirt and his chain peeking out from under it. “you good?” he asked as he took off his shoes.

oh my god, was i staring?

“oh, yeah, i'm fine. i just spaced out a bit, sorry.” you chuckle nervously, tucking a piece of your wet hair behind your ear. “i’ll be right back.”

“take your time.”

you made your way back to your room and threw hung your town on your closet door as you looked for clothes to wear. you opted for a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that was sasha’s but for some reason, it was in your closet. once you had finished changing, you made your way over to the mirror that was across for your bed to make sure that you looked fine.

“ok, breathe.” you exhaled and opened your door calling for eren to come into your room.

he came into your room, still clearly feeling awkward about your interaction from before. “nice room, i like the led lights you have.” 

“thanks,” you laughed and sat on the bed, motioning for him to come sit next to you, which he did.

“so, what's on your mind y/n?” he asks, leaning up against the headboard and trying to get comfortable. 

“i don’t know, i've just been thinking about some things recently, and i can't seem to get them out of my head.” ok, good start.

“like what?” he looks over at you. oh no, don't look at me like that.

“the kiss we shared a few days ago, it’s been in my head on repeat.”

eren looks confused and looks towards your mirror, “is that a bad thing?”

“huh? i mean no, it’s not, i just don’t know what to do because these feelings have come back that i pushed away from when we became close because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. but right now, it’s consuming me and i don’t know what to do.”

“well, i wouldn’t have kissed you without having feelings for you, y/n. i don’t know how you didn't notice it. i’ve been kinda bad at hiding it.” he said calmly as his gaze remained in front of the two of you. “but if you didn’t like it, we can just forget about it. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” he turns to look at you once again. 

“no, i enjoyed it actually, but...” you trail off nervously, feeling your face becoming hot. you tried to turn away but his hand grabbed your chin and turned you back to face him. 

“but what?” he says softly, looking into your eyes which caused your heart beat to pick up. he thought it was so cute how you were getting so flustered by him.

“but i don’t want to be played...” you averted his gaze.

“y/n, i would never play you.”

you look back at him, now knowing the answer that had been bothering you for the past few days. it took all your strength to not kiss him right there but he beat you to it, closing the gap between the two of you. in that moment, all your worries had washed away, feeling content and glad that you had this conversation with him. the kiss soon escalated into you and eren sliding your tongues into the others mouth. you felt yourself getting hot once again but this time, a completely different reason. eren brought his hand that was on your chin behind your head, pulling you deeper into the kiss as you melted into his mouth once again, whimpering at the feeling. eren could feel it go straight to his dick that was now straining in his pants, trying to contain himself because he didn't know whether you wanted this or not.

“let me show you how much i care for you, yeah?” he says as he pulls away for a brief second. 

“eren, please,” you whimper as his lips met yours once again but this time with more passion. eren then moved so he was on top of you, caging you in his arms as he continued to kiss you. “i want you.”

“’want you too, baby.” the pet name going straight to your core. eren moaned as he moved from your lips down to your neck, gently kissing and sucking to leave a mark. he then placed his hands at the bottom of your shirt, looking at you as if he was asking with his eyes for permission to undress you, you nodded your head vigorously and lifted your hands up so he could take it off. 

“no bra? it’s like you’re begging me to fuck you, angel.” he then brought his lips down to your left nipple, gently sucking on it while taking the other between his fingers, moving it around earning a moan from you at the feeling. he then moved over to the right and did the same action. “you’re so beautiful.”

“ohmygod please, please,” you knew you sounded desperate, but you couldn't help yourself. you had been denying the fact that you had wanted this for so long.

“use your words, tell me what you want.” he groaned and came back up to kiss you, relishing in the feeling of your lips against his.

“’wanna feel you,”

“where, pretty girl?” he sat up at looked down at you with a smirk on his face, he knew where you wanted him but he wanted, no needed to hear you say it. 

“’want you inside me eren, please,” you whined arching your back so he could get the message. he chuckled and brought himself back down towards your sternum, placing wet kisses as he made his way down to the waistband of your shorts. 

“can i?” he looked up at you and immediately saw the approval in your eyes. “you don’t know what you do to me, do you?” you whimper at his remark, lifting your hips up in the process so he could take your shorts off easier to reveal your thong and the painfully obvious wet spot. he placed a finger on your slit, dragging it down slowly, teasing you.

“stop teasing me,” you whined, trying to prop yourself on your elbows but to caught up with the euphoric feeling that you couldn't. eren slowly took off your panties to tease you even more, and threw them behind him onto the floor.

“fuck, baby. this all for me?” he looked up at you with his jade green eyes meeting your e/c ones. he could feel the precum running down his shaft, struggling to keep his composure.

“yes eren, all for you.” your breath hitched as he spit onto your needy heat, bringing his tongue down to your clit, giving it a few kitten licks before he quickened his pace and wrapped his left arm around your leg to keep you in place, not once breaking eye contact. “fuck, keep doing that, holy shit!” you could feel him smirk against your core, and if it couldn't get any better, you felt a finger at your entrance before sliding in. “eren!” he felt so embarrassed to be rutting his cock against the bed but the noises you were making were sinful and he couldn’t help himself.

you began to feel your stomach tighten as he added another finger into your hole and picked up the pace. the sensation was incredible, the feeling of his tongue on your clit and the pace of his fingers going in and out of your pussy. your slick was dripping down his fingers, it was driving him crazy. he felt you tighten around his fingers, you were close.

“’gonna, ‘m gonna cum eren, please,” your release was so close, you just needed one more push.

“c’mon baby, cum for me.” he groaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your whole body and you felt the coil snap. the moan you let out was pure sin and eren thought he was going to cum on the spot. “that’s it baby, good fucking girl.” as you got down from your high, you realized that he didn’t stop, you were sensitive, eren knew that but he needed one more from you.

“eren it’s too much, fuck,” you cry out as he brings his mouth back down to your heat and you can already feel yourself getting close again, and he could tell. you came even quicker this time, your juices gushing all over eren’s tongue. he lapped all of it up, not letting a single drop go to waste, and then taking his fingers covered in your slick into his mouth.

“you taste so good, i couldn’t get enough of you.” he whispers as he comes back up to kiss you. you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue. you reach down towards his throbbing cock, but he shook his head. “this is about you, baby.”

“please?” you look up at him and he couldn’t say no. he knew that he would not last long if you did as much as place your tongue on his tip. noticing that he didn't say anything, you took this as your chance. you flipped him over so that you were on top, and you could feel how hard he was. you grabbed the bottom of his shirt and helped him take it off, revealing his perfectly toned chest with chiseled abs. he threw the shirt to another place in the room, pulling you into another kiss shortly after. you moved from his lips down to his neck and down his chest stopping at his sweatpants to pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his swollen tip leaking with precum. he was larger than average and it excited you every bit. you smirked to yourself, and placed your lips on his tip, his breath hitched at the feeling.

you began to slowly drag your tongue down his shaft, maintaining eye contact with him, just like he did with you. you then took him in your mouth seeing how his legs tensed, you began to go even further. 

eren was trying so hard not to grab your head and push you onto his dick, afraid that he was going to ruin the moment with you and be too aggressive. you then took your mouth off with saliva connecting from his tip to your lips and then went back down taking him all in your throat before bobbing your head up and down, coming up for air while jerking him off. the sounds he was making went straight to your warmth, making you wetter by the minute.

“keep doing that, fuck y/n,” he groaned as his will vanished and he took your hair in his hands beginning to help guide you on his dick. he ran his hand through his hair and looked back at you, knowing that this image will forever be imprinted in his head. his legs tensed and you felt it, he was close. “fuck, i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna fucking cum.” he groaned as he shot thick white ropes of cum down your throat, you gladly took all of it and opened your mouth to show him that you did. 

“fuck, you did so good, so good.” he pulled you up towards him as you laughed into the kiss, and suddenly you were back on the bottom. “but now i’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy, yeah?” he aligned himself with your entrance and your mind became fuzzy with the feeling of his tip right where you needed him most. he slowly pushes himself in but you didn’t need to adjust, and he began to move at a steady pace.

“oh fuck,” eren threw his head back at the sensation of finally being inside of you, the way your walls grazed his dick, pulling him back him. it was addictive, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “you feel so fucking good y/n.”

“fuckfuckfuck, ’m gonna cum eren.” the feeling came back embarrassingly quick but you didn’t care, the feeling was amazing.

“yeah? you’re gonna fucking cum? cum on my cock. cum on my fucking cock.” eren growled as his chain was in your face. hearing him be so demanding and aggressive set something off and you felt yourself release but this time it was different, arching your back at the feeling. eren was taken aback by the fact that he made you squirt, it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

“that’s it, squirt all over my fucking cock.” he rode you out of your orgasm and continued to plow you into the mattress, picking up his pace. he was close but not quite there yet. you had taken into account that eren was aggressive in bed but he was being gentle with you at first, and you loved every bit of it. you wanted to make it more interesting. before you could even think, your hand met his cheek, and eren looked at you with a shocked expression but his eyes grew dark with lust. 

“fuck me like you mean it, jaeger.” you growled, hoping to get a reaction out of him. and oh boy, did it get a reaction.

“yeah? fuck you like i mean it?” he slapped you across the face, and then grabbed your cheeks and spit into your mouth. “swallow it.” if you thought you couldn’t get turned on anymore, you were so wrong. you rutted your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. this side of you was so different, and eren fucking loved it. he grabbed your throat, squeezing it and making you look him in the eyes as he fucked you with force.

“look at you, never knew you could be such a slut.” the name made you clench around him like a vice, earning a groan from him. “taking my cock so fucking well.” the feeling of you tightening around his cock for the 2nd time that night was making him lose his mind, he wasn’t going to last any longer and he knew that you weren’t either. he brought his hand that was around your neck down to your neglected clit and began rubbing circles as his pace became erratic. he was so close and so were you, but he needed you to come with him, he had to feel that feeling again. 

“fuck, i’m so close baby. fucking cum with me,” he moaned as he brought his head to your neck, you brought your arms and wrapped them around him, bringing him closer to you. before you could even comprehend, you released your juices, spraying all over his pelvis as he came shortly after you, painting your insides white. he stilled, trying to catch his breath but to his shock, you flipped him so that you were on top once again.

“not done yet.” you moaned as you began to grind yourself onto his cock. eren still so sensitive from his past orgasm that he was barely holding on by a string. seeing you on top of him, the way your breasts bounce and the way you look from this angle is driving him insane. he knows that he’s not going to last like this, the way you’re riding him, he grabs onto your hips and guides you.

you’re so overstimulated, you can’t even think straight. eren is trying so hard not to cum before you, but your pussy is milking him dry and before he knew it, he came inside you once again, legs shaking from the overstimulation. you lifted yourself off him and began to frantically rub your clit as you squirted all over his chest and pelvis. eren stared at you in awe, the way you looked like when you came and knowing that it was from him was a huge boost to his ego.

you finally collapsed onto his chest, trying to calm your breathing as he wrapped his arms around you. the both of you basked in this silence, thinking about the sex you just had.

“hope i wasn’t too rough, i kinda got carried away.” eren chuckled as he ran his fingers down your back, earning a laugh from you.

“no not at all, i really liked it actually.” you looked up at him, placing your chinos his chest. 

“I'm glad, been wanting to do that for a while,” he paused, as if he was looking for the right words to say. “i really like you, y/n.”

your heartbeat quickened, and you gave him a quick peck on the lips. “i really like you too, eren.” you blushed, “stay the night.” you didn't have class the following morning, so it was fine.

“ok, will do.” he squeezed you tighter, and you utterly being exhausted, you felt yourself drift off to sleep. eren gently moved you over and walked into the bathroom, finding a small towel and cleaning you and himself up. he grabbed you a new pair of underwear from your closet and the his shirt on the floor, dressing you before he put his sweatpants back on.

you felt the bed dip and a pair of arms bring your back to his chest and press a kiss to your cheek.

“’night y/n.”

© all content belongs to oblxvion 2021, do not repost or change.

[ragingbookdragon]

He Said, "Times Like These I Don't Want To Be A Superstar"

Booster Gold x Batbro One-Shot

Word Count: 1.3K Warnings: Slight Angst

Author's Note: BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD. BOOSTER GOLD IS A HERO AND YOU WILL RESPECT HIM, EVEN IF HE'S A MORON. -Thorne

**********************************************************************

He’d noticed that the eldest Wayne son liked to watch the people he was around—much like his father did—listening, learning, piecing together what made people tick, what made them do the things they did. Booster was sure the man could pull a Sherlock and tell someone every piece of their life history just by a single glance. They’d gone on two dates—if you could count one Justice League mission where they worked together and then a training session afterwards, dates. And yet, he’d still not asked Booster about his past. He had no doubt that Batman had given his son free reign of the Batcomputer files; he’d read up on Booster…why hadn’t he asked?

***

They slid into the diner booth, both rather beat after the long training session. Booster was beginning to feel pain in places he wasn’t sure he was supposed to, but (Y/N)’d assured him it was all normal during the process of learning Muay Thai. Booster had watched Batman and (Y/N) go out it for about ten minutes with the martial arts form, and even Clark was wincing with each kick, knee, and elbow the two exchanged. And then (Y/N) got Booster in the ring and started training him; he was grateful—his hand-to-hand was basic at best.

Still though, he wasn’t sure how to act around (Y/N). He’d heard stories of the black op squad leaders exploits, the great SPECTRES running around the world, saving it and the places where the Justice League overlooked; Batman wasn’t too fond of the killing, but he beamed with pride when he talked about (Y/N)’s squad taking down terrorist groups and human trafficking rings. Booster wasn’t jealous, but he wanted to learn from the man. Wanted to know how he was so well liked within the superhero community, and just by normal people.

“You’re doing it again,” (Y/N) suddenly said and Booster shook himself out of his stupor, blinking as he gazed at the man, watching as he merely took a glance around the room.

“Doing what?” Booster asked.

He chuckled. “That thing where you think so hard everyone can smell the smoke billowing out of your ears.”

Booster flushed. “Sorry. Just thinking…about stuff.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anything you feel like sharing with the class?”

Booster grinned, though the smile dropped into a frown as he took a moment to find the correct way to communicate his worries. “How much do you know…about me? Like really know about me?”

“How much do you want me to tell you I really know?” he retorted with a sly smile, eyes twinkling with mirth and something deeper—intrigue, or maybe it was expectation.

“Have you read my file?”

“What makes you think you have a file to read up on?”

Booster shot (Y/N) a rather unimpressed look as he deadpanned, “Your dad is Ba—ruce Wayne,” he corrected with a cough. “There’s a file on everyone.”

“Fair,” he agreed, opening up the menu; (Y/N) scanned it, refusing to look at Booster, which only made the man shift nervously in his seat. “Got curious when you entered the scene. Asked dad to send me the file on you. Skimmed it, put it back, let it be your business.” He gazed at Booster. “Why?”

“I’m…not a good man to be around, (Y/N). I—”

“Because of the gambling in college? Or the stealing?”

“…Both…” he murmured, looking at his hands, then a self-loathing smile came over his lips. “What’d your dad’s file say? That I’m an ego-maniac who puts on airs because he’s a second-rate hero that’ll never amount to anything?” (Y/N) merely gazed at him, watching, waiting. “I wanted fame, (Y/N). Glory. That’s why I came back here. It’s why I do what I do.”

Booster looked at him. “The only people who ever want to be around me are Ted and Skeets. Why do you hang around?” he shrugged. “Why do like me?”

(Y/N) thanked the waitress for handing them their drinks and set his cup to the side. “You bet on your games to save your mom’s life. Without the money, she wouldn’t’ve gotten the treatments and most likely would’ve died. If she hadn’t, your family would’ve drowned in medical debt.”

He tore the paper to his straw. “Your theft was a problem, but you recognized the error of your ways and made up for it with the jail time.” Slowly, he pulled the plastic tube out of the white paper. “Your ego is as big as your head, but when proven wrong, you admit it, sulkily, but you do.” (Y/N) crumpled the wrapper. “You have no skill other than the technological advances of your suit and Skeets’ help.”

Placing the straw in his drink, he added, “You suck at hand-to-hand combat, but you learn quickly when there’s a threat to your pretty face, so that’s a plus. You’re loud and obnoxious, but you’re clever enough to keep low so that you don’t alter the future by being a globally renowned hero.”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Ted’s your best friend and Skeets is stuck with you. I’m here because I see what’s underneath.” He searched Booster’s gaze. “You’re a good man, Michael. Can you be an idiot? Absolutely. Can you be annoying as hell? Yeah. Can you leap without looking where you’re going? All the time. But at the end of the day, your friends know that if they needed help, they could count on you to back them up, even if you knew you might not know what you were doing.”

He pointed at Booster. “And that’s what makes you a hero.” (Y/N) smiled, gesturing to himself. “Michael, I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. Been a lot of things I’m not proud of. But the difference between being a hero and parading as one, is what you do when you keep getting knocked down. Real heroes get back up. Frauds cower and hide.”

Tipping his head to the side, he offered Booster a look of chance. “So? Are you the hero? Or the fraud? All evidence points to the former.”

Booster was stunned silent. He had no words, no clever quips, no heart-throbbing lines to throw back. He was completely speechless. His mouth was moving, forming words his vocal cords wouldn’t produce as wet warmth flooded his bright blue eyes, and all he could do was lower his head, putting his hands over his face to hide the tears.

(Y/N) knocked his foot against Booster’s calf. “I’m gonna tell Ted I made you cry on our third date.”

A laugh bubbled from Booster’s chest as he quickly wiped his eyes, chuckles escaping his lips every couple seconds; he looked at him, murmuring, “Thanks (Y/N).”

He shrugged. “I’m just telling you the truth, Michael.”

“Yeah…but it means a lot to me.”

(Y/N) set his hand on Booster’s, the man turned his hand palm up in response, thumb running over the smooth skin of his palm as he replied, “You mean a lot to me.”

“I do?” he questioned in disbelief. “Really? You like me?”

“I only taught you how to break someone’s skin open with your elbow and how to break ribs and legs with a solid kick,” (Y/N) snorted. “So, yeah, I like you.”

“You’ve got an awfully weird way of showing you’ve got the hots for me,” Booster grinned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Better than your lame pickup lines and offers to go out on missions with you.”

“Hey! You agreed!”

“Because it was pitiful how love-struck you were with me.”

“I am not love-struck!”

“Really? ‘Cause a little gold robot told me you’ve been recording dirty diary entries about me.”

“What?! Skeets told you!”

“Well, he didn’t, but you just confirmed the suspicion. Nice going, Sherlock.”

“OH MY GOD!”