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satoruvt · 3 years

Text

for a moment i forget to worry

pairing → xu minghao x reader

word count → 3196

genre → fluff + angst, college au ↳ tags: strangers to friends to lovers </3, college kinda sux, ROOMMATE CHAN MAKES AN APPEARANCE OR TWO, dance major minghao, reader is completely lost but its ok who isnt, lots of cute couple stuff, pov ur entire relationship with minghao. thats it, a sad break up scene, a solid amount of crying

summary → there’s something about minghao. maybe it’s the way he dances, vibrant and youthful, or maybe it’s the way he loves you. based off of hunger by florence + the machine.

warnings → i hint at sex but its pretty vague, i also mention a breakdown type deal (revolving around school/life after school)

a/n → first of all this was NOT supposed to be 3k words i dont know how it happened. second of all i’m only kind of happy with this HAHA i feel like the story itself isnt bad but i wanted it to match the song more ... idk :/ i hope u guys like it regardless !!!

pieces of you masterlist

The first time you see him is by accident.

Really - all you’re doing is trying to find Chan. You’re passing by the practice rooms, looking into them in hope he’ll be there, stopping to gaze at decorations and medals and trophies lined up on the walls. It’s when you approach a room that music plays from that you think you’ve found Chan, but when you gaze in, it’s definitely not him.

You don’t know who it is, but he moves like nothing you’ve ever seen before.

It’s hypnotizing, almost makes you want to drop your things and dance with him. There’s a sense of youth that comes from him and it’s almost overwhelming - but it’s not in energy, necessarily, but rather from the precision of his movements, the technicalities that he seems to both follow and break at the same time. Something vibrant seeps out between the seams of his body, colors you can barely recognize as they splash against anything they can reach. It’s almost tangible.

You watch him long enough for him to finish his performance (an unknowing one) with the last notes of a song you forgot was even playing. His eyes meet with yours, slow as he completes an eloquent turn, and at the same time, a hand meets your shoulder.

A small wave of embarrassment washes over you, and you turn towards whoever touched you, effectively breaking eye contact. “What are you doing here?” Chan asks, hair still wet from what you assume was a shower.

“Looking for you,” you tell him, following as he starts to walk towards the exit. “I wanted lunch, and you owe me for that time I took your British literature quiz for you.”

Chan groans but agrees to pay, and you laugh, though the world seems a little paler than it did a few moments ago.

The second time you see him is by chance.

(Maybe.)

You’re waiting for a lecture to start, tapping your fingers against your laptop idly as you watch students trickle in last minute. It’s not a strict course, but it does start at nine in the morning, and most everyone shows up with a coffee.

You look down to brush a stray hair off of your table, and when you look up again, the dancer from before walks through the door, then looks right at you.

You feel a blush heat your face and it’s like he wants to make sure that you know that he knows, because he almost refuses to look away. You break eye contact first (like the last time, you remember for no reason) but still watch as his figure moves up the stairs, past the rows, and you hope he’ll just move past you too…

He doesn’t. He takes the empty seat right next to yours, and you don’t say anything, instead finding the peeling sticker on your laptop incredibly interesting. The professor comes in and decides that today he’ll take extra long to set everything up, apparently, and you want to scream.

“So,” the dancer says, voice quiet. It takes your breath away, the way he sounds. “Mind if I ask why you were watching me the other day?”

You cast a glance at him - not too long, you don’t think you could handle more than five seconds tops - and finally open your laptop so it makes you look busy. “I was waiting for a friend.”

“And?”

The smile in his voice is palpable. You’re already exasperated.

“You…” you start, finally deciding to look at him as some sort of subconscious power move. “You’re a beautiful dancer. It was hard not to watch.”

Beautiful doesn’t even cover half of it, but you figure he already thinks you’re weird for watching him, so you hold back the thoughts of youth and vibrancy and color. The dancer looks at you, almost blank for a moment, before a soft smile draws itself on his face. It makes your heart beat a little faster. He says “thank you” with a gentle tone, sincerely felt.

The class starts, and the two of you don’t speak throughout the next hour and a half. You type out notes on your laptop and you see him write down names of the paintings being shown on the projector, little thoughts and notes written afterwards.

By the end of class, your professor assigns an optional partnered project, and you’re more than prepared to head back to your apartment and start on it yourself. The dancer stops you before you leave, however, asks if you’d like to be his partner.

(And he says it like that, would you like to be my partner, polite and somehow sweet.)

You know your answer. “I don’t even know your name,” you stall, standing from your chair.

“Minghao,” he tells you. “I’m Minghao, and I’d like for you to be my partner.”

You say yes easily, put your number into his contacts even easier. The sky is blue when you leave the lecture hall, trees dotted with pink and purple flowers, and it is all so bright that you forget it wasn’t this way in the first place.

The third time you see him is for school.

Underneath the excitement of giving Minghao your number, there is the knowledge that it’s for the sake of an assignment. He texts you the day after to ask if you’re free to meet up to work and you tell him sure.

(Sure is what you send back, but he doesn’t have to know that you burst into Chan’s room immediately after, plunging face first into his bed just to scream into his pillows. Chan had sighed, turned around in his desk chair to look at you, then asked what happened. He gave you two minutes to rant and then kicked you out, back to your own room.)

You and Minghao agreed to meet at the library on a day that neither of you had any afternoon classes, and you get there early, spend some time working on other classes. You have somewhere around thirty minutes to freak out to yourself before you see Minghao come in, dressed like he knows what he’s doing to you (which is really just a hoodie and jeans, but you think it’s the cap that really pulls the whole boyfriend look together), smiling when he finds you at a table in the corner.

“How are you?” is the first thing he says when he sits down, and you pull down your laptop screen a little to see him better.

“I’m good,” you say, feeling your heart pound. “What about you?”

Minghao sends you a kind smile. “Really good. Should we get started?”

You lose count of how many times you see him after that.

Meeting up to work on the project soon becomes just meeting up, and after the project’s done and turned in, it happens even more. You hang out and get lunch, send each other texts and stupid videos, take walks around campus together. The weeks pass, summer mellows into fall, then into the early days of winter. You develop a genuine friendship with him, finding comfort in his presence, looking for him wherever you go.

(Although the crush is still there, potent and patient, stubborn in a way you’ve never experienced before. You wonder if it’s a sign of some sort.)

You’re in one of the practice rooms with him, sitting in the corner. You had a class nearby and he’d wanted to practice a little more, so you told him you’d work on your own stuff while he finished up and then the two of you could grab something to eat.

But you made a small error on your part - the dancing. You’d forgotten the way he moves (you haven’t seen him dance since that first time) and in no time at all you’re letting your screen go dark in front of you and watching him. Honestly, it’s not your fault, you really can’t help it.

But of course he notices.

Minghao meets your eyes through the mirror and raises his eyebrows at you, and all you can do is look away, desperately try to get your laptop up and running again so at least it seems like you weren’t watching him for too long.

“You’re staring,” he says, long after you’ve looked away.

“Sorry,” you tell him anyways, immediate, quick.

Then he says, “I never said anything about stopping.”

In a second, you look up from your laptop and up at him. He moves closer, crouches in front of you. His eyes are kind - they’re never not - but you think you see something a little more in them. “Sorry, I think I missed that last part,” you respond, blinking. Minghao smiles like you’re endearing.

“I said I want you to keep looking at me.”

You think you’re barely breathing when he shuts your laptop for you, slides it off of your lap and onto the floor (gently, with care, and it’s a wonder to you how he can focus on that right now). He practically crawls over you, one of his hands eventually reaching the junction of your jaw and neck and holding there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay,” he says, but doesn’t move. You nod as soon as his words reach your brain, eager and quick.

And the next few hours get a little wound up in your head, a little mixed in with the feeling of his body - that moves so youthfully, with so much vibrancy that it reaches everything around you - melting into yours and the sound of him asking you to tell me what you need, honey, and the still-playing slow jam music he was practicing to.

You watch him sleep next to you, hand curled around yours against his pillows, and think that nothing bad could ever touch him.

The two of you… come together, after that.

Neither you nor Minghao use any proper labels, but you both seem to know. No labels are needed, really. You have each other and that’s all there is to it. And everything is really good.

You work together and laugh together like you’ve always known each other. He tries to teach you to dance with him when you’re in the practice room with him, pulls you up by your hands and guides you through your giggles. He was the first person you called when you realized that you had no idea what you were working towards, didn’t have a clue what you actually wanted to do with your life. He gets along well with your friends and you text his because they’re basically yours, now, too.

Winter turns back into spring, slow and easy. Vibrant and youthful. You’re not able to meet Minghao’s parents, but he meets yours (and you’re sure a quick introduction to his mom over a FaceTime call has to count for something). The two of you take advantage of the newfound warmth of the season and try to get out as much as you’re able to, with picnics and city dates and anything you can think of. A drawer in his dresser is reserved for your things, you bought an extra toothbrush for him to use when he stays over.

You watch him dance. It still feels like the first time, like color and breathlessness. You tell him he’s beautiful every time, feel yourself fall a little deeper when he still gets bashful amidst his comedown. You tell him you love him for the first time after he gets done with a performance - a proper one, for a showcase of the dance club he’s in. He says it back.

You think he put all the stars in the sky just for the two of you to gaze at them together.

Things shift the beginning of your junior year.

Minghao tells you about a program he’s applying to, a proper dance academy in New York that could really kickstart his career. Training under some of the best choreographers and performers in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask him after he tells you, and he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. You’re studying at his apartment tonight.

“It’s just…” he frowns. “It’s so far away, you know?”

Oh. You hadn’t even thought about that, too caught up in the excitement of him being able to apply at all. A quick sigh leaves your lips, and then you reach for his hand, hold it between both of your own.

“That’s okay,” you tell him, though now that you’re thinking about it, you feel nervousness in the pit of your stomach. “We can work something out, though, when we get that far. We’ll figure it out.”

Minghao nods, a fond look in his eyes. He pulls one of your hands to his lips. “We’ll think about it if I even get accepted,” he says.

It’s bittersweet, but a promise nonetheless.

Fifteen minutes after you get a call from Minghao, there’s a knock on your door.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you’re worried, but, well. Everyone’s experienced the jump of anxiety when they get hit with the “I want to talk to you about something” line. Nonetheless, you stand from the couch to open the door, mentally preparing yourself for any and everything.

“Hey,” you greet when you see Minghao, opening the door to let him in. His face is unreadable. “Everything okay?”

He walks a few steps into your apartment, waits for you to close the door before turning back around to face you. Then he holds up a piece of paper, the creases from where it was folded still bending. You send him a confused look.

“I got in,” he says, a grin breaking on his face, and you blink, then feel your jaw practically hit the floor. Minghao only nods like he understands, and before you know what you’re doing, you launch yourself at him, holding him close.

“Oh my god, Hao, that’s amazing,” you say into his sweater, then step back to get a proper look at him. Youthful, vibrant. “I’m so proud of you.”

He seems to soften at your words, pulls you back into him again with a gentle kiss to your head. “Thank you for believing in me,” he tells you, tenderness palpable in his voice. All you can do is squeeze him tighter.

Minghao spends a lot of time away from you after that.

You’re not really hurt in any way - even though he got into the academy in New York, he still has to practice. You get it, this is important. He doesn’t text you as often, isn’t able to stop by as much, and you miss him, but you know how much this means for him. But it gets… weird, almost, after a while. Strange, even for him. It feels weird that he’s set to leave at the end of January and it’s December and he’s distant.

Both of you are laying in your bed, looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling, when you decide to bring it up. “You’ve been… kinda far away lately,” you start, nudging him with your shoulder gently. “Everything okay?”

His eyes stay on your ceiling, but you feel the way he sighs. “It’s about the program,” he says.

“Okay.”

“And about… you and me.”

Oh. That doesn’t… sound the best. “About, like… what we’re gonna do?”

Minghao nods.

You say, “I wouldn’t mind visiting every so often. It’d be hard, but I’m sure we could find something to work.”

Minghao shakes his head, says, “no.”

You pause, and when you look at him he’s already looking at you. What does he mean by no? Does he want you to move with him? Or does he -

He reaches for your hand and you think oh.

His eyes are a little glassy. You feel the tears come, too.

“Oh,” you say out loud. Minghao squeezes your hand. “So this is… this is it?”

Your room is suddenly cold, and you want to crawl under the covers and stay there. The person in front of you is blurred into something unrecognizable, but you can’t be bothered to blink away your tears.

“I think so, love,” he whispers back to you. “I think it has to be.”

The two of you cry like that for a while. In your bed, loosely intertwined and broken. Even the way Minghao cries carries a kind of vibrancy that’s overwhelming, makes you think of the first time you saw him so long ago, and now -

When you manage to get a better grip on yourself, you ask him if you can still see him off at the airport. He says, “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”

Then you ask if you can kiss him again. He responds by kissing you first.

And it��s sad, it tastes like salt and sorrow and you feel like the promises you never got the chance to make are broken. It feels like the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, and you know it’s only a branch of Minghao’s color.

He leaves soon after that, pulls on his shoes and his coat and turns around at the door to give you a tired smile. After he’s gone, you drag yourself to Chan’s bedroom, and once he sees the state you’re in, he offers up one side of his bed. Neither of you say anything, but the friendly reassurance of his hand in yours says enough.

You don’t fail to notice that everything seems to be washed out, a blandness you’re not used to.

The last time you see him is at the airport.

It’s a cold day, despite being sunny. The airport offers little warmth, but you figure it doesn’t matter. You won’t be here for long.

It doesn’t take you very long to find Minghao - you still look for him wherever you go, even if you’re not looking for him. Even then, it’s still so easy for you to find him, to pinpoint that vibrancy, that youth. He’s talking to a few others, you think you met them. Soonyoung and Jun.

Minghao meets your eyes and you freeze, but then he waves you over with a gentle smile. You follow like you think you always will.

You greet Soonyoung and Jun and the four of you talk, albeit a little awkwardly, even when Soonyoung tries his hardest to lighten the mood. Eventually he has to leave, and Jun follows with a shy goodbye. They both hug Minghao before they go.

You’re not sure what to say, but after a minute, you find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” you tell him, a little selfishly.

Minghao says, “you’ll do good. I know you will. I’m not worried about you.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, and you think he’ll give you a stiff and sad goodbye, but he steps a little closer to you. Looks at you the way he used to.

“Maybe…” he starts, then pauses. “Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Maybe, you think. Maybe.

“I hope so,” you tell him, then watch as he leaves.

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

COMING HOME

Jackson “Jax” Teller x Reader

Anon #1 asked: Jax teller x reader a smuuuuttttttt one pleaseeeee

Anon #2 asked: Oh yay! Bc I really wanted to request something, although if you're not comfortable writing it I totally understand. I wanted to request Jax Teller x reader where the reader is being mistreated (how ever ur comfortable writing that) by a boyfriend and she escapes to the club house where Jax is there late one night, and he ends up taking care of her and comforting her. She tells him she broke things off & he ends up telling her how he feels and it's really fluffy? Or some variation of this.

Warnings: NSFW, smut.

Word Count: 2.3k

Author comments: First time writing for Jax and I don't know what the fuck I did. The story of my life. This work wasn't re-edited, so I'm sorry if you find grammar mistakes! I hope you all enjoy. Gif isn't mine, credits to the author.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @witchy-wish @rebel-without-cause-x @xx--day-dreamer--xx @spiced-reads @tita127 @minnicelli ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

When you want to realize, you're stopping dead the wheels of the car in front of the Teller Morrow workshop. Your eyes are filled with tears, running down your cheeks and getting mixed with the blood on your face. It hurts a lot, even the smallest movement you make with your face. There's a gap under your left eye, product of a hit that Larry gave you with one of his golden rings. He also broke your lower lip by a similar punch. You know that tomorrow it's going to be worst. But you can't handle it anymore. Every night is the same shit. Alcohol, drugs and take out his anger with you.

The main door of the clubhouse gets opened. You stand close to your car, with a hand supported on the hood. Your cry stops for a second, watching Jax giving some slow steps towards you somewhat confused. When he notices the blood, he runs faster than never almost colliding with your body. Cupping your cheeks into his hands, the man has a quick look of your face, clicking his tongue before taking off his jacket to place it on your shoulders. You haven't noticed that you're wearing nothing but a long shirt. No pants, no shoes. Nothing. Jax lifts you up between his arms, letting you get a little relaxed knowing that you're already safe.

“What happened?” He asks without looking at you, and his jaw tightening.

You just shrug your shoulders in silence, while he leaves you over his bed. You're not trying to protect your boyfriend, you don't want to see him again after all the pain he provoked you. But seems pretty obvious what happened and why you ran away from your house. Jax have always been so kind and gentle with you, that you thought he was the one who could protect you. You met him almost six years ago, just by a coincidence, and you started to be friends since the first moment you impressed him talking about his bike. And of course, he never liked Larry, knowing the piece of trash he is.

“I'm sor—sorry. I didn't know whe—where to go”.

“Home. You're at home, okay?” He replies, leaning towards the mattress with a knee nailed in to leave a kiss on your forehead. “I'll be back in a second, don' move”.

You simply nod, trying to clean your tears and staining the back of your hands with some blood. Not much after, he comes back from the bathroom carrying some cotton, alcohol and stitches to fix you up. It hurts. The hydrogen peroxide in contact with your skin itches too much. And you're ashamed because of Jax is seeing you falling into pieces, even when he warned you about that guy and what he could do.

“I will leave by morning. Just… please, let me stay tonight”. You beg desperate, pulling away from him your gaze as soon as he finishes of putting the stitches.

“You can stay here all the time you need. There are enough empty dorms. And I will take care of you, so Samcro will too”. Lifting up your face by two fingers under your chin, he forces you to look at him. “I'm gonna give you some clothes, so you can take a shower, okay?”

Helping you to get up from his bed, Jax lets you go barely a few seconds. Enough time to find another shirt and a pair of sweatpants. You take it from his hands, almost caressing it ephemerally, before walk into the bathroom closing the door behind your steps. The warm water finally relax your body, falling all around you from your hair to your toes. You know that the nightmare has ended and that your, now, ex-boyfriend is not going to bother you anymore. Although you can't help but feel somewhat restless, wrapping your body with a towel and sitting on the toilet, having a deep, deep breath.

When you're ready, wearing the clothes that Jax gave you and having a last look in the mirror of your bruised face, you walk out of the bathroom. The man hangs up a call before you can hear anything he's talking about.

“Better?”

“Yes… Thank you”.

“This has to end, (Y/N)”.

You nod licking your lips, standing up close to the bed.

“Tomorrow Chibs, Happy and I will go with you to pick up your things. You can stay here, if you feel safe”. He sentences, knowing that you don't have any option, even if it's the best one. “I can't… see you again like that”.

“I'm sorry, Jax…” You say again, sitting slowly by his side.

“I'm being serious”.

“I know”.

“I told you”.

Seems like he's getting desperate, rubbing his face with both hands and pulling away the short hair back to his nape. You can't help but hug him, wrapping his shoulders with both arms as you sink your face on his neck. It feels good. His smell is enough to make you lost all the fears that were running through your body, knowing that everything is going to get better.

“That asshole doesn't deserve you. You're much more than a one-night-stand. You have to know it”. He mutters holding you a little more tightly.

“Ja—”

Before you can say anything else, not even a word, he lifts up your chin colliding your lips with his. Your heart jumps, racing faster than you could think. And it takes you some seconds to react, but you kiss him back. Slowly. So slowly, enjoying the taste of beer and cigars, while his nervous hands holds your hips wanting you closer if it's possible. When his tongue finds yours looks like an explosion inside your mouth. You were desiring it since you met him, and seems like he was feeling the same way.

“Stay with me”.

One of his hands cups your cheek, tangling the tiptoes in some bristles close to you ear. His nose touching yours, eyes closed, drinking each other's breaths.

“I want you to stay with me, lemme' make it up to you”.

The mutter colliding in your lips makes you nod in silence. Running down his callous hands by your sides, Jax lifts up the Reaper Crew shirt to throw it somewhere, enjoying the views of your bristling nipples calling him. He leans forward to them catching one between his lips and the other with two fingers. One being bitten, the other being pinched. And a soft moan growing in your mouth. He knows exactly what to do, wetting it with his saliva and touring your skin with the tip of his tongue. His free hand travels down right to the waistband of your sweatpants, going under it to lightly touch your beaten clit needed for any kind of caresses. For Jax feels so good find you so wet, only for him. Something that he has been wanting so fucking bad since a long time ago. He curves his finger inside your pussy, slowly, trying to learn every single inch of it and its tightness.

Your hips moving unconsciously looking for more friction when you feel how he is getting harder every second you're on top of him, gasping and begging for more whispering. After taking off his shirt, the man bites your lower lip, pulling away his finger from you just to make you lay down above the mattress. He finally undresses you, being exposed to his blue eyes getting darker and watching how he licks his lips.

“Touch you as I would do it”.

You don't say nothing, opening your legs for the SOA' president and placing them to both sides of his body kneeled on the bed. He's going to remember it his whole life, looking how he follows every move your right hand does. It goes down by your stomach before continuing for the pelvis. You can feel the heat that emanates from your thighs, when you dig a finger in your pussy. Yes, it's wetted like never before. And you start to jerk yourself off, maintaining his lustful gaze, somewhat faster than he did before. The first moan appears when you see him rubbing the lump on his crotch, so needed to feel it inside you.

“Fuck, Jackson…”

“You like it?”

“Yes… Yes…” You try to nod, going a little bit deeper, almost arching your back. “Can you… Can you… Hm… I want a second finger, please…”

“You got it, baby”. He answers hardening his tone.

And you step in another one, containing yourself of gasping too loud, not knowing if someone else is in the clubhouse. You pound your hot pussy imagining that is his cock, spreading more your legs to let Jax sees how much you want him. Your palm almost hitting your entrance, intensifying the uncontrollably sounds your vocals chords utter. You want a third one and a fourth one thrusting you, to compensate that it's not his hand, nor his dick, burning in pleasure and desire.

Jax frees himself of the jeans, showing you that huge erection with some veins marked in, making your mouth watering by imagine how it could feel pressing it to your throat and filling you completely till drown you. His long fingers moving his own sensitive skin from top to bottom, as fast as you're fingering your pussy.

“Put a third one, baby”. He asks you licking his lower lip, not being able to raise the look of your hand.

You obey as the good girl you are, screaming out his name when you push it harder into you. You can't help but intensify the erratic move, provoking him to do the same. You're about to come, squeezing your legs over the sheets, when the older grabs your forearm to pull it away making you growl somewhat upset.

“Lemme' taste you”.

You can't talk. You just nod in silence, watching how he lies down between your legs, putting his arms under them but nailing his hands on your abdomen. His tongue goes slow from your back entrance to the other, tasting and drinking your fluids until he reach your swollen clit. His beard gives you some tickles every time it touches your thighs. Jax gently bite that sensitive part of your body, tangling your wetted fingers in the blonde bristles.

“Cum in my mouth, (Y/N)”

Even if it's a petition, it finally sounds like a command, thrusting two fingers decorated by two gold rings under his tongue. Into you.

“Fuck, Jax!” You cry out, pushing his face closer among your legs.

His tongue feels delicious, moving so fast around your entrance that you can't handle it for much more, while his fingers completes the next level of pleasure you have never felt before. Arching your back at the exact moment your anatomy shakes because of his mouth, he presses his nose against your skin touring your pussy to taste your cum. He can assure that he has never tried something better.

And the man doesn't let you any time to recover yourself, when he's already helping you to sit up.

“All in fours, my love”. He whispers close to your lips, before leaving a smooth kiss on them.

You do, turning your body to support your weight on your palms and knees. Chest resting above the pillow, spreaded legs and waist raised up. Positioning his body not fully naked among your thighs, Jax guides his dick all over your ass and pussy to tease you a little. You can hear the sound of a spittle, feeling it colliding to your entrances, and the saliva running down to the bed, knowing he's gonna fuck you without having to ask for it.

So he does. Nailing his hands on your hips almost hurting you, he digs his cock among your folds, making you scream with broken voice. Far away stayed the slow moves to make you feel loved, pounding you so hard that the headboard collides with the wall. Your moans getting tangled with his guttural growls wandering around the dorm. His lower abdomen hitting your ass once and again, resting your forehead on the pillow, as he goes deep into it. You want more. You couldn't be tired of his thrusts, being satisfied for the first time in years.

Jax is so big. More than he wants to hide under his typical jeans. And it feel so good when you find yourself close to the edge again. The orgasm finds you some hard pounds after, crying loud his full name and making him smirk proud of it.

“I want to cum in that delicious mouth yours, baby… Can I, uh?”

It's pretty fun how he has been giving you orders the whole time, to now ask you for something. How could you even say ‘no’? You raise a hand back to his chest, making him know that you want it too. Quickly, Jax pulls out his throbbing erection, jacking himself off while you lie on your back and he practically sits on your breasts. Taking your nape with his free hand, he lifts up your head until his red glans is above your open lips ready to receive his cum. You step out your tongue at the moment he finally fills your mouth with his hot seed, right to your throat. Jax has to slightly lean his neck back, cursing himself for not being able to see your face. But he does when you swallow his juices, before sucking his cock. Stealing him a loud moan, you press your wall with his glans, tasting the most sweet than bitter fluids on it, licking his skin with your tongue and wetting it with your saliva.

“Good girl, take it all”.

Leaving it there until an arcade appears, you feel one of his hands touching your pussy again, soaking it with your jizz before lying by your side. Then, he brings his fingers to your mouth, enjoying the way you have to lick them so calm and slow that you could make him fall into the ecstasy again. His lips finds yours, with that mix of alcohol and your delicious cums on your tongues.

Jax takes the advantage of get full undressed, before getting comfy close to you, with tired and short kisses traveling all around your face.

“Will you lemme take care of you?”

You nod in silence, trying to catch back your breathe and placing a shaky leg surrounding his waist. He caresses it with his right hand, putting the left arm under your neck to hold you closer.

“I love you, (Y/N)”. He mutters into your lips, drawing a goofy smile on the corner of your lips.

“I love you, Jax”.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jackson jax teller x reader #jackson teller #jackson teller x reader

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kjmsupremacist · 3 years

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guys my age (taeyong/yuta)

Taeyong, fresh off of his first year of college, finds himself in a new city for his summer internship. He keeps running into a beautiful man, and Taeyong can’t help but be attracted to him. The problem? This guy is around 40, and Taeyong only just celebrated his 20th birthday.

Chapter 10 - my clothes still smell like you (and all the photographs say you’re still young) | Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Masterlist

Characters: Taeyong, Yuta; the rest of nct intermittently

Genre: fluff, angst, smut (lots of smut)

Warnings: AGE GAP (like taeyong is barely legal)*, daddy kink, cockwarming, degradation, thigh riding (? not a warning insomuch as it is just a tag)

Rating: Explicit

Length: 6.8k

official playlist here! | if ur able, u can buy me a coffee here!

*please mind the gap! I am in no way condoning or encouraging real life age gap relationships with this fic. I think there is an inherent power imbalance, and that they are rarely healthy. I still like them in fiction though, because im fucked up :) if you think it will upset you, then please don’t read it!

(divider cropped from a photo taken by @/double_cats on twt!)

Taeyong was right about the lethargy of August. Even work feels slow; none of them get much done, interns and department heads alike. It’s hot and humid, even with the A/C, and Taeyong feels sluggish.

Their last day of work is a Friday, and Yuta insists that Taeyong spend the night with his fellow interns. “You’ll have Monday and Tuesday free,” he says. “I’ll come get you in the morning, okay?”

Taeyong’s grateful for his insistence, really. They have a little party at the office, and then Taeyong goes out with a bunch of the other interns, including Jaehyun. It turns out Johnny and Ten have gotten together in these past couple of months—something Taeyong missed while he was wrapped up in his own escapades.

“So how did that happen?” Taeyong asks, clinking his beer against Ten’s as he takes his seat beside him, watching their friends jump around on the dance floor. “You and Johnny?”

Ten smiles. “It’s funny, actually,” he says. “We were hanging out a lot, and I was operating under the assumption that we were just doing it as friends, and Johnny was operating under the assumption that we were on, like, our fifth date or something. One day he walked me home, and gave me a goodnight kiss, and everything clicked.” Ten grins. “So I invited him in, and we talked about it. After fucking, obviously.”

Taeyong laughs out loud. Ten’s straightforwardness is always a breath of fresh air. “What’re you gonna do this fall, though?” he asks. “I mean, Johnny’s going back to the States, right?”

Ten shrugs. “We’ll figure it out. He’s always back in Korea for holidays and stuff, so provided I’m not visiting family in Thailand, it shouldn’t be a problem.” He takes a sip of his beer. “I know the long distance thing is hard, but… I dunno. I really like him, and he really likes me, so we’ll make it happen.”

“That’s really sweet,” Taeyong says.

“And what about you?” Ten asks. “What happened with you and Jaehyun?”

Taeyong makes an awkward noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh. “Ah,” he says. “It just didn’t work out.”

Ten doesn’t press; that’s the other great thing about him. For a moment, Taeyong has a flash of regret. If he’d spent more time with his fellow interns instead of Yuta, he has a feeling he and Ten could’ve become really good friends.

Taeyong gets medium-drunk and decides to stop, a choice he’s very proud of later when Jungwoo is throwing up on the sidewalk while Kun tries to flag down a taxi for him. He says goodbye once he knows Jungwoo’s safely on his way home, and starts the short trek back to his apartment. The night is clear and warm, and the stars blink at him as he walks. All the interns promised they’d keep in touch. Taeyong flips his phone over in his hands. There’s a new group chat on it, right at the top. It’s so easy. Why isn’t everything so easy?

He gets up early the next morning to get a start on packing. His train comes Wednesday afternoon, and Yuta will drop him off. It’s nice, not having to deal with getting a taxi. Taeyong’s just worried that he’ll cry.

Packing goes surprisingly quickly. He didn’t really move in as much as he thought he had—probably because he rarely spent his weekends in this apartment anyway. He removes the drawers from the dresser to check that nothing has fallen behind, and even crawls along the floor to check that there’s nothing that’s slipped under the furniture. He notices a crumpled shadow under his bed and stretches his arm out, sort of army-crawling a foot or two to get at it. He slides back out from underneath his bed and finds the jeans he wore out that first weekend in his hands, now a little dusty. He grimaces, but not from the dirt. He was such a different person at the beginning of the summer, and now he has to return to a place that houses that person, along with all the ghosts of who he used to be, and try to find his place there among them. He has a feeling he’ll find that there isn’t one at all.

Regardless of whether he and Yuta decide to stay together in any capacity, he will go home changed. How is he supposed to pick up the pieces of his old life; how is he supposed to slip back into that mold after all of this? And what about school? Doyoung knows, but what is he going to tell the rest of his friends? Is he going to tell the rest of his friends? And his parents— oh god, his parents. He tries to imagine that conversation.

“So how was your summer?”

“Good. Internship was good.”

“Make any friends?”

“Yeah, lots.”

“What did you do for fun?”

“…”

There’s a certain grief that comes with change, no matter how necessary or inevitable that change is. It’s not that Taeyong wants to stay in this strange city for the rest of his life. It’s not that he won’t be able to move on. It’s just that there’s a piece of him that will cling to this summer forever; there’s a part of him that will miss these last couple of months with a raw keenness he knows at times will stop him in his tracks. And that won’t change, he realizes as he steps into the shower, no matter how much time passes, no matter how many good memories he stacks on top of these ones, no matter how many times he sees Yuta in the future, if he sees him at all. He’ll be in the middle of class, and his mind will wander one step too far, and his ears will be full of ringing. He’ll be on a date with a different man in a different city, living a different life, and something will remind him and his breath will crystallize in his throat. He’ll be forty-five, doing the dishes, and he’ll remember this summer and break the mug he was washing in the sink.

He’s more or less done by the time Yuta swings by. He grabs his overnight bag and trudges down the stairs. He wants to see Yuta, but he’s also dragging his feet a little. He wants every moment slowed down; he wants to scan these last few days frame by frame, heartbeat by heartbeat. The sun blazes down on him as he steps out onto the sizzling pavement. He nearly burns himself on the handle of Yuta’s car doors. Yuta smiles at him as he slides into the passenger seat, and Taeyong wants to tilt forward and bury his face in his chest and stay there for the rest of his life.

“Hey,” he says instead.

“Hey,” Yuta replies. He’s in a random old t-shirt and shorts, but Taeyong doesn’t think he could look any better. “Not too hungover?”

Taeyong shakes his head. “Didn’t drink a whole lot last night.”

“Good,” Yuta says. “Have you eaten?”

“I had toast?” Taeyong replies. “I was busy packing.”

“We’ll have brunch, then,” Yuta decides.

Taeyong desperately wants to ask if Yuta has thought at all about what they want to do after this long weekend, but at the same time, he’s worried it’ll ruin the potentially short time they have left together. So he just watches out the window, tracing over now-familiar streets as they head away from the city and to Yuta’s house.

The sunlight isn’t as harsh inside, even though Yuta’s kitchen boasts big windows. Yuta heats up bone broth while Taeyong fiddles with the rice cooker. Dust particles float across his vision, and aside from the gentle clinking and bubbling from cooking, the only other sound is Yuta’s soft humming.

Yuta comes up behind Taeyong and wraps his arms around him. Taeyong melts backwards into his touch, sighing happily when Yuta presses sweet kisses to his neck. He turns in Yuta’s arms so he can hold him tight, resting his cheek on Yuta’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” Yuta murmurs.

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies softly. “You’re comfy, that’s all.” Yuta chuckles lightly, swaying them a little as they wait for their food to heat.

They eat quickly and quietly, and once they’re both full, Taeyong stands to clean the dishes. Yuta stops him with a hand on his wrist, pulling him into his lap. “Leave it,” he says quietly. “We’ll deal with it later. Let me hold you.”

“Oh!” Taeyong sets his bowl down and eagerly crawls into Yuta’s lap, straddling his thighs, his feet dangling a few inches off the floor. Yuta rubs his back over his t-shirt, letting out a soft, satisfied grunt when Taeyong stops trying to hold himself up and drops his full weight onto him. Taeyong brushes Yuta’s hair back with both hands, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Yuta closes his eyes briefly, smiling.

“Hey,” Yuta murmurs. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

Taeyong’s breath hitches in his throat. “I have, too,” he says.

“I don’t want this to end,” Yuta says, and Taeyong’s eyes widen, his heart fluttering in his chest. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and it’s okay if you don’t agree. I just want you to know where I am. I like you a lot, Taeyong. And even though we won’t be able to see each other as often, I still want—you. Is that okay?”

“Oh my god, yes,” Taeyong says quickly. “I—I don’t mind if we don’t see each other much, I won’t want anybody else anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Yuta holds him in place, his expression sincere. “It’s—I mean, I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“This is making things easier,” Taeyong insists.

“Yeah?” Yuta’s eyes crinkle with happiness. “Good, because I don’t want to give you up again.”

Taeyong surges forward and kisses him. Yuta wants him. Yuta wants to keep him. “I was worried all this week,” he admits when he pulls away to breathe. “I mean, I’d understand. It won’t be easy, and you have your career, and I’m basically just some random kid—”

“I hope you know you’re more than just a random kid to me now,” Yuta interrupts. “You’re right, it won’t be easy, but we’re smart, right? We’ll figure something out.” Taeyong laughs, giddy in his relief. “We can call often, and I’ll come visit you from time to time. Luckily, I’m not very recognizable,” Yuta continues with a grin. “I’ll get a hotel room nearby, and stop on campus to drop off a key. And you can come over after your classes are done. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong breathes out. He was so tense all week, and he’s only now realizing because he’s deflating into a tired, withered, but happy little version of himself right here in Yuta’s lap. “Really good.”

Yuta cups his cheek, stroking his thumb across the soft skin under Taeyong’s eye. “I thought about being in this big empty house without you as the weather turns cold, and knowing you’d be lonely in a shitty little dorm room hours away, and it broke my heart a bit,” he says. Taeyong makes a small, sad noise in his throat. He never really considered Yuta would be lonely without him, but now he pictures it—just Yuta shuffling around in his house, all on his own, and it’s almost painful. I could never leave him all alone like that. “You can send me your class schedule, and that way I’ll know when I can bug you,” Yuta continues.

Taeyong threads his fingers through Yuta’s hair, resuming his little scalp massage. “I will,” he says. “I know you like to go into town when you’re lonely, but when the days get shorter and the weather gets worse, it won’t always be safe for you to come down the big hill. So you should just call me when that happens, okay?”

“Okay,” Yuta agrees with a light laugh. “My little boy,” he adds softly. “So good to me.”

Taeyong hums, shaking his head. “I like being around you,” he says. “Even if it’s just over the phone. So I’m glad I get to do it more.”

Yuta’s smile grows. “I’m glad we got that out of the way,” he says, his voice low. “I want to do so many things with you this weekend.”

“With me, or to me?” Taeyong asks pointedly, biting back a giggle.

“A little bit of both,” Yuta concedes, his smile sharp and wicked and charming. “Maybe all at once. What d’you think?”

“Yes,” Taeyong says, squirming in Yuta’s lap. “Want it.”

Yuta kisses him, licking and biting at his lips, messy and rough the way Taeyong loves. He rolls his hips without even thinking about it, aching for friction, aching for more contact. Yuta presses his palm over Taeyong’s crotch, where his cock is just beginning to harden in his sweats. “I was thinking maybe we could make it upstairs for once,” he says. “But it seems like we have something to take care of. That’s okay,” he adds, when Taeyong whines a little in embarrassment. “You know I like it when you’re needy.” He takes a hold of Taeyong’s cock through his pants. “I like it when you let this do all your thinking.” He tugs a little, and Taeyong moans in surprise. “You get so desperate, you’ll take anything, right?”

“Don’t be mean,” Taeyong complains, trying to thrust up into Yuta’s fist. Yuta doesn’t let him. “Da-ddyyy,” he whines reproachfully.

“What about this, baby?” Yuta says, like they’re trying to come to an agreement about what they want for dinner. “You ride my thigh till you come, and then we’ll go upstairs so I can fuck you where it’s more comfy?”

“Okay,” Taeyong huffs, already rocking a little against Yuta’s palm. Yuta changes their position, grabbing Taeyong’s hips to move him up off one of his legs. He drives the one still between Taeyong’s thighs up a bit, and Taeyong pitches forward, bracing himself against Yuta’s shoulders. Yuta has one hand splayed on Taeyong’s lower back, and the other cupping his ass.

Taeyong considers pausing to take his pants off, but he doesn’t really care. Plus, he has a feeling Yuta will like how desperate and pathetic it makes him look—shit, he likes how desperate and pathetic it makes him feel. He’s gonna come in his pants because he couldn’t be bothered to wait, like a dumb slut. It’s already messy; he ruts against the hard muscle of Yuta’s thigh, the head of his cock bumping against Yuta’s stomach every now and again, and he can feel how wet he is, underwear sticky with precome. It’s dirty, and makes him feel so stupid in the best way, because that’s how Yuta likes him. Nothing else matters.

One of Yuta’s hands slips below his waistband, and Taeyong struggles between wanting to arch back into his touch, and wanting to get off as fast as possible so Yuta will fuck him. He does a bit of both, and Yuta presses his fingertips into his flesh, almost possessively. Taeyong whimpers when he bounces his leg ever-so-slightly. Yuta murmurs encouragement at him that he barely hears “—Sound so sweet, baby, so perfect for me—“ because he’s stroking a finger over Taeyong’s entrance now.

“Mm, daddy,” Taeyong slurs. Yuta gently works the tip of one of his fingers in, and Taeyong screws his eyes shut, dropping his head down chin-to-chest, thrusting faster against Yuta’s thigh. Yuta moves his hands with him, pressing his finger in little by little as Taeyong rocks and trembles and moans on top of him. “More, more,” he pleads.

Yuta clicks his tongue at him in mock disapproval. “I’m already helping you too much,” he says, but he doesn’t pull his finger out. It burns a little since it’s dry, but Taeyong doesn’t care, almost likes it better that way. Yuta finally brushes his prostate, and Taeyong lets out a low moan, satisfaction making his head muddled and cloudy. “Good?”

“S’good,” Taeyong agrees. He’s slid down Yuta’s leg at this point, and because his pants need to accommodate Yuta’s hand, his cock has slipped from its place beside his thigh, and now pokes over his waistband. Yuta just draws him closer so he fuck up against his stomach. Taeyong can feel the hard bulge of Yuta’s cock against his leg as he moves, and he whimpers. He debates putting his own orgasm on the back burner in favor of riling Yuta up to see if it’ll get him to fuck him here and now, but he quickly abandons the idea. He knows Yuta will be able to fuck him better on his bed. Besides, Taeyong doesn’t want to put his orgasm on the back burner. He wants to come.

Yuta holds Taeyong flush to his body, stroking over his prostate again and again, cooing at the frustrated noises Taeyong makes as his cock dribbles precome over his sweats and Yuta’s shirt, leaving dark, slick stains. Taeyong doesn’t have the space to be embarrassed, though he registers in the back of his head that maybe he should be. Instead, it just fuels him, and he moves faster, a staccato kind of moan sneaking its way out through his clenched teeth.

“Look at you,” Yuta says, half patronizing, half praise. “So come-dumb already.”

“Feels s-so naughty, daddy,” Taeyong says.

“Mm, but it’s good, right?” Yuta pets Taeyong’s prostate as he talks. “Remember that day when I asked if I should see how many times I could make you come, to see if it would help with you being such an incurable little slut?” Taeyong manages to nod, hiccuping out whimpers, not slowing a bit as Yuta continues talking. “Wanna try it before you leave? Just to see what your limit is?”

Taeyong gasps. “Oh, yes,” he manages, cock throbbing as he thinks about Yuta making him come over and over and over, until all his orgasms are completely dry, until he’s limp in his hands and only half-conscious, until he’s sore all over and can’t even get hard anymore. Pleasure unfurls in his belly, and the next time Yuta brushes his prostate, he’s coming, hips twitching of their own accord as he spills his release all over his and Yuta’s clothes, shuddering through tiny moans.

Yuta helps him to his feet with a hundred kisses, telling him how good he was, how pretty he looked. He helps him out of his clothes and leaves him teetering and a little dazed in the entrance to the kitchen while he goes to throw all their clothing in the laundry room sink to soak. He’s back in an instant, naked and beautiful, sweeping his hair from his eyes with his hand, earrings glinting in the light.

“C’mon,” he says, steering Taeyong up the stairs. “Your reward.”

“And yours,” Taeyong mutters, and Yuta laughs.

“You caught me,” he says, leaving Taeyong to get settled on the bed while he gets lube.

Taeyong arranges himself on his back, head resting in the comfort of the pillows. The sheets are soft and soothing on his hot skin, and he nestles further into the mattress, bending his knees, planting his feet, and dropping his legs open as Yuta saunters up to him, lube in hand.

Yuta slinks onto the bed, crawling up to him, fitting the crooks of Taeyong’s knees around his waist. “Jesus, you look so good,” he says, like he’s not even really thinking about what he’s saying. His eyes rove Taeyong’s body, and he fluffs Taeyong’s hair a little, kissing the corner of his mouth before sitting back so he can open the lube. “The blue hair was cute,” he says. “And you’re gorgeous no matter what. But I do love your black hair. It makes you look more real, and less like an incredibly elaborate daydream.”

His frankness surprises a peal of laughter out of Taeyong. “You think I look like a daydream?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” Yuta says as he pushes a slick finger into Taeyong, realizing he’s still loose and immediately adding another. “I think I made you up. Not that I imagine guys your age often. I just think about you,” he adds, and Taeyong snickers.

“I didn’t think that,” he assures him. “It’s just funny, because sometimes I think, like, you’re straight out of one of my fantasies. Like, that’s how I think about it. And I just think it’s hilarious that you’re using a cute word like daydream, and telling me you think about me. Meanwhile, finding you gave me a face to complete a vision I kind of already had, that I kind of already thought about.”

“Well, it’s different for you,” Yuta points out, and Taeyong knows he’s right. They’re quiet for a moment, and Taeyong lets himself get lost a little in pleasure. He loves getting fingered, and Yuta somehow does it just right. “I do think about you, though,” Yuta says. “Not just in a sexual way—I mean, have no doubt, I do that too.” He affords himself a short laugh before continuing. “I mean like, my memory of you keeps me company when you’re not here.”

His confession is electrifying. “I know what you mean,” Taeyong says, his voice wavering a little. He never wanted to even hope it was true, that Yuta took comfort in the thought of him the way he did in the thought of Yuta. No one could need him that way, right? Least of all Yuta; least of all now. And yet, here he was. “I think about you like that, too.”

“I know.” Yuta pauses his movements, kind eyes finding Taeyong’s. “I just thought you might like to hear me say it.”

And there Yuta goes again, offering Taeyong comfort like a neatly wrapped present, complete with a perfect, pretty little bow. The tag says I know you. There isn’t a gift receipt.

Taeyong can’t stop thinking about it; it lingers there in the back of his mind even when Yuta folds him in half, pressing his knees into the mattress next to his ears and fucks him so good his eyes cross. It’s still not love, though now, maybe it will be, in time. But there’s an undercurrent of understanding that flows between them, an anticipatory sort of care. Taeyong still isn’t very good at predicting Yuta’s actions, but he’s figuring it out. Yuta is teaching him by showing; open-palmed, generous, and vulnerable.

Taeyong’s teeth clack from the way Yuta’s fucking him, and he lets his thoughts slip out of his head. It’s good content for a rainy day alone in his dorm, but now he loops his hands around the back of Yuta’s neck and pulls him closer. Now he moans open-mouthed against the flushed skin of Yuta’s chest. Now he lets Yuta kiss bruises into his sternum. Now, he whimpers out daddy, daddy, daddy in time with each stroke of the head of Yuta’s cock against his abused prostate.

Yuta comes first, practically growling Taeyong’s name in his ear, and he makes Taeyong come with his hands and his mouth before he’s even caught his breath. They clean up, and then roll around in bed for a while just because they can.

Taeyong lays half on top of Yuta’s chest, warm and drowsy in the sunlight, tracing lines into his skin with his fingertips. Yuta hums as he plays with Taeyong’s hair. Things are so good like this. Taeyong wishes this weekend would last forever; a never-ending mirage in a scorching summer sunset, just Yuta and him.

~ * ~

Sunday morning after breakfast, Yuta suggests they dress up like they were at that lecture series so that they can take a picture together. He pulls out his gorgeous blue suit, and they stand against the nondescript white wall of his foyer and use the self-timer on Taeyong’s phone. It’s a little awkward because they have to act professional, but it comes out well.

“I won’t be able to put it up in my dorm room,” Taeyong says regretfully. “In case someone recognizes you when you come to visit. But it’s really nice to have.”

Yuta kisses the crown of his head. “I know,” he says.

Taeyong doesn’t let Yuta take the suit off. All he has to do, really, is make his eyes big and pretty and tell him, “But you just look so handsome, daddy,” and Yuta bends to his will, shrugging the jacket back on.

Yuta has a few things to read that day for work, so he sits up in bed with Taeyong curled into his side, brushing his fingers through Taeyong’s hair as he reads. Taeyong starts fiddling with the waistband and button of Yuta’s pants, and after a few moments, Yuta puts his reading to the side and tugs a little on Taeyong’s hair to get his attention.

“Do you want something?” he asks quietly, a ribbon of amusement fluttering through his tone.

“Can I suck your cock?” Taeyong asks, and Yuta huffs out laughter. “Or not even suck it, just like—use my mouth to keep it warm till you’re done, and then maybe suck it?”

Yuta gives a little disbelieving shake of his head. “Alright, but you better stay still,” he says. “Last time we tried something like this, I distinctly remember you being a terrible little brat.”

“Won’t,” Taeyong insists. “I just like having something in my mouth. And it—it feels good.”

“You mean it makes you feel used,” Yuta says as he unzips his fly.

Taeyong blushes. “You know I like feeling like a doll,” he mutters as he shifts down so he can rest his head in Yuta’s lap.

“I’m not teasing,” Yuta says softly, running his thumb over the hollow of Taeyong’s cheekbone. “You’re so hot, you know that?”

Taeyong brushes some of his hair out of his eyes and opens his mouth, lolling his tongue out a little and looking up at Yuta innocently. “I think in time you could convince me,” he replies, and Yuta smiles.

He lets Yuta guide the head of his cock into his mouth. He licks over it a little just to get it wet, but then goes still like he promised. He really isn’t intent on misbehaving today; he meant it when he said he liked the feeling. Yuta’s cock is heavy in his mouth, and he closes his eyes, breathing evenly around it as best he can. He doesn’t try to take him deeper or hollow his cheeks; he just holds it there, letting spit gather in his mouth. Yuta strokes his hair. “Good boy,” he whispers, and Taeyong allows himself the tiniest of moans. “When I’m done, I’ll fuck you, okay?”

Taeyong gives a little nod, and Yuta goes back to his reading, though he keeps one hand on his cheek. It’s so gentle and sweet, but so deliciously depraved at the same time. Taeyong’s hard in his jeans, and he feels almost drunk, head spinning. He doesn’t know why this kind of stuff gets him so bad. He thinks it’s a combination of feeling owned and just enjoying feeling full.

Yuta reads placidly, and Taeyong goes limp, almost dozing as he waits for him to finish. It probably isn’t more than an hour, though Taeyong really would have no way of knowing. But eventually, Yuta shifts around and pats his cheek, and Taeyong reluctantly pulls off his cock. A thick string of spit stretches from his lip the head of Yuta’s cock, glittering in the afternoon sunlight. Yuta wipes it away with his thumb before kissing Taeyong, sweet and deep.

“You were so good,” Yuta says, cupping his jaw. “So patient. My perfect baby boy.”

Taeyong’s whole body is weak from the praise. “For you, daddy,” he replies, and Yuta groans in the back of his throat, pushing Taeyong down on the bed. Taeyong feels so little and stupid and precious in Yuta’s hands, and his cock twitches a little in anticipation. Yuta rolls him over, pulling his pants down around his ankles and grabbing the lube off the bedside table from where they left it the night before.

Yuta opens him up with a sort of direct purpose—it’s not that he rushes it, but he does it with the clear intent of stretching Taeyong wide open as efficiently as possible. Taeyong can’t do anything except muffle his moans in the duvet and let Yuta stroke his walls with three fingers, and then four.

“Does it hurt?” Yuta asks, pumping his fingers in-out, in-out.

“Mm-mm,” Taeyong replies. “Feel’s nice,” he says, adding, “Your cock would feel nicer.”

Yuta pulls his fingers out and pulls Taeyong backwards by the hips until his toes are dangling over the edge of the bed. Taeyong yelps in his surprise, tapering it to a moan when Yuta plants a hand between his shoulder blades, guiding him to arch his back, head buried in his forearms.

He hears the rustling of fabric. “You’ve got quite a mouth, you know,” Yuta says as he lines himself up. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” he continues as he presses in. Taeyong just responds by moaning. “You think I don’t know how to make my baby feel good?” He curls over Taeyong’s body as he bottoms out, and grinds against Taeyong’s prostate. Soft cries bubble up out of Taeyong’s lips. His tongue is so heavy. “Hm? You think daddy doesn’t know how to fuck you right?”

“N-no,” Taeyong protests, knees knocking when Yuta rolls his hips nice and slow.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Yuta says, but he follows it with a few tender kisses down Taeyong’s spine. “Lucky you’re pretty,” he says as he stands back up, readjusting his grip on Taeyong’s hips. “Lucky you’ve got such a nice body.” He pulls almost all the way out, just until the very tip of his cock is resting at Taeyong’s entrance, and then pushes back in, and does it again and again and again. “You were so tight the first time I fucked you,” he comments. “But now I just have to spend a couple extra minutes when I’m prepping you, and you open right up. Take me so well.” He presses a finger in beside his cock, and Taeyong sobs as his cock drips precome down his inner thighs.

“Don’t,” he whines, absolutely not meaning it. Yuta just pushes his finger in farther. Taeyong can picture his wide, devious grin. “Daddy, no, ’s embarrassing.”

Yuta relents, pulling his finger out, and goes back to gaping him instead. “Sorry baby,” he says unapologetically. “You just always manage to surprise me. Wish you could see yourself right now. You’re so loose.” Taeyong can feel it; he can feel the cold breeze of the air conditioning where he’s all exposed; he can feel some extra lube leak out with Yuta’s next thrust in and drip down his thigh. “You’re ruined, honey,” Yuta says, and Taeyong whines in complaint. “Who did this to you, huh?”

“You, daddy,” Taeyong accuses. “We’ve talked about this.”

Yuta’s definitely smiling now; Taeyong can hear it in his voice. “That’s right,” he says, like he’s only just recalling it. “I did. But that’s okay, right? I don’t mind, and neither do you, and you’re my little boy, so—“ He thrusts in extra-hard and Taeyong squeals. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Yuta’s little boy. Taeyong’s pretty sure he’s drooling, though he can’t reach up to check. “Daddy,” he mumbles around his clumsy tongue as Yuta finally stops teasing, and sets a normal pace.

Yuta’s touch is smooth and soothing down his back. “Right here, honey,” he says, and Taeyong decides he could die right now and it would be just fine. “I’ve got you.”

Yuta starts to really fuck him now, making Taeyong’s toes curl against the edge of the mattress. Yuta’s thrusts are harsh and deep—Taeyong’s nose is shoved into the sheets almost painfully. He tries to clench around Yuta, but he’s already too unsteady. The only reason he hasn’t slipped onto his side is that Yuta is holding him in place as he pounds him into the bed. Taeyong couldn’t talk if he tried, instead just letting out short little moans with every exhale.

Taeyong’s body hardly knows how to keep up with everything that’s happening to it as it is, and then Yuta wraps a hand around Taeyong’s cock without warning. He strokes him a couple of times, and then thumbs at the slit. Taeyong screams before he can stop himself, and quickly tries to bite it back into smaller noises. But, fuck, it feels good. What else is he supposed to do when Yuta knows exactly how to touch him? He realizes a few tears have rolled down his cheeks, but it’s not even from pain. It’s just everything; with Yuta, everything feels like the best he’s ever had, and one of these days, his poor little heart is going to give out from the shock of it all.

“You’re so hard,” Yuta comments, strained. “It looks painful. D’you wanna come?”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.” It’s the best Taeyong can do, but Yuta understands, speeding up his fist. “Mmm my god, daddy—ah!” He really wants to tell Yuta how good he feels, but he can’t, not with Yuta hitting his prostate dead on with every thrust, not with the way he fills him up, not with the way Taeyong can hear and feel how wet his hole is. He thinks he’s proud, honestly, that he’ll let Yuta make him this messy just because it’s what he wanted to see today.

“You like it? You like it when I fuck you facedown like this, like a little whore?” Yuta asks. He twists the hand that’s around Taeyong’s cock a little.

“Oh, fuck,” Taeyong whimpers. “Yes,” he adds when he remembers he’s supposed to be answering him.

“So good for me, baby,” Yuta grits out, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Taeyong’s waist. “I’m gonna come.”

Taeyong can feel it, the way he shakes, the way the hand around his cock has become erratic and unsure, the way his hips twitch a little; Yuta only ever goes this fast when he’s close. It’s become a bit painful now, and fresh tears spring to Taeyong’s eyes and spill thick and hot over his waterline, clinging to his lashes when he tries to blink them away.

“Does it hurt?” Yuta asks, voice low and gravelly in his ear.

“Yeah,” Taeyong says, voice tiny and helpless. “B-but I like it. Like it when you make me cry.”

“Of course—fuck—of course you do,” Yuta pants out. “Shit, shit, baby—” He grunts a little as he stills inside Taeyong, still jerking him off lazily as he comes, warm and wet.

He pulls out when he’s done, and Taeyong feels his come leak out of his hole immediately. There’s nothing Taeyong can do about it, and he whines when Yuta focuses on Taeyong’s cock once more, speeding up again, his hand slick with Taeyong’s precome.

“Lemme see you come, honey,” Yuta encourages.

Taeyong tries to form words, he really does, but there’s no space between his moans. And then Yuta takes two fingers and scoops some of his release up where it’s dripping down the back of Taeyong’s legs and shoves it back in, and Taeyong cries, coming hard in Yuta’s hands, making a mess on the sheets. Yuta strokes him through the aftershocks, humming happily in the back of his throat.

Once Taeyong’s spent, Yuta gathers him up in his arms. “Oh, you look so sweet,” he murmurs, wiping his tears away.

“Got your nice suit all dirty,” Taeyong whispers, and Yuta laughs.

“Small price to pay,” he replies, kissing Taeyong’s nose, “for your happiness.”

~ * ~

The days pass much faster than Taeyong would like, and too soon it’s Wednesday morning. He blinks himself awake, and dread crashes over him. Yuta’s still sleeping beside him, but it’s about time they got up, so Taeyong rolls over and kisses his cheek and jaw until he wakes up.

“We should probably get started on breakfast,” Taeyong says, unable to keep the terrible sadness out of his voice.

Yuta twists around to look at the clock. “We still have a little time,” he says. “C’mere. Let me hold you for a while.”

Taeyong snuggles closer, and Yuta wraps his arms around him and kisses his hair. “I don’t wanna leave,” Taeyong says quietly.

“I know,” Yuta says. “But you have to. And it’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Taeyong says. They’re quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” he says. “For this summer. I know you thought you were taking something away from me, but I loved every minute. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I wanted to thank you, too,” Yuta says. “I had so much fun, and came out of it with you. I don’t mean this in a burdensome way,” he continues, laughing. “But you are one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, you know?”

“That’s a little sad,” Taeyong replies, though he’s fighting giggles. “You must not have had a lot of nice things happen to you.”

“Stop it,” Yuta replies. “You’re better than you know.”

They work their way through breakfast, and Taeyong lingers in the kitchen, drying the dishes. Yuta brings his bag down, and they stand facing each other in the hallway for a moment. “It’s almost noon,” Yuta says finally. “Come on. Don’t wanna miss your train.”

Taeyong kind of wants to miss his train. He kind of wants to stay right here, say oops, I thought it was next week! He wants to drag Yuta home with him, and then to school, get an apartment in his college town together.

He gets into the car instead.

Yuta helps him drag his luggage down the stairs (“This is the one you hit me with that day outside the station, I remember!” Yuta exclaims, patting the handle of one of the suitcases fondly), and then they drive downtown to the train station.

Yuta parks and helps Taeyong carry all his things onto the platform. He helps him load them up in the overhead bins while one of the conductors watches seriously, assuming Yuta’s trying to hop on the train without a ticket. Once Taeyong’s things are settled, they step back out of the train onto the platform.

“Text me when you get home,” Yuta says.

“I’ll text you the whole ride home,” Taeyong replies.

“Tell me when it’s convenient to call,” Yuta adds. “It’s okay if it’s not until you’re moved back into your dorm. I can wait. I won’t get too lonely.”

“I will,” Taeyong says, “get too lonely. I’ll call you when my parents are at work.”

Yuta groans good-naturedly. “Makes me feel like a terrible person.”

“You’re not.” Taeyong runs his thumb over Yuta’s knuckles. “Better than you know, remember?” He pats Yuta’s chest. “Your fragile old heart is still a good one.”

Yuta laughs, and pulls him in for a hug. Taeyong squeezes tightly. “I’m gonna miss you, honey,” Yuta says, and Taeyong feels his bottom lip tremble.

“Gonna miss you, too, daddy,” he whispers. Yuta rubs his back.

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” he offers as consolation.

Taeyong clings to it. “Yeah,” he agrees, “soon.”

A whistle blows. “You better go,” Yuta says, prying Taeyong off him. “No, don’t look so sad. It’s not goodbye forever. I promise.” His eyes are bright with the same pain that sits heavy on Taeyong’s shoulders and burns at his eyes, but he gives Taeyong a smile. “Go,” he repeats.

“Bye,” Taeyong says, taking one step back, and then another and another. “See you.” He turns, and ducks into the train.

When he’s settled in his seat, he looks out the window and sees Yuta still standing there, watching. He waves, and Yuta waves back. Taeyong puts a smile on his face. He wants the last thing Yuta sees of him to be happy.

The doors are all shut, and the train lurches to life. As the conductor comes down the aisle to check their tickets, Taeyong presses himself to the window, keeping eye contact with Yuta even as they pull away. He stares hard until they round a corner and he can’t see him anymore.

He hands his ticket over to be punched, and as soon as the conductor leaves him alone, he buries his face in his hands, curling towards the window, and cries. It’ll be fine. He knows it’ll be fine. It’s just so hard. He’s always been bad at letting go.

His phone buzzes in his hand, and he looks down, brushing tears away so he can read it. It’s from Yuta. Keep your chin up, baby, it says. Don’t cry. We’ve only known each other for a few months. We still have the rest of our lives.

Taeyong can’t even try to reply just yet. He lets out a shaky laugh. Yuta knows him so fucking well. He knew he’d cry. He knew what he’d need to hear. Yeah, he thinks. I guess things will be okay, after all.

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dabisangel · 4 years

Note

i have this idea, what about some bakugou x reader where his best friend asks him to teach her how to kiss and he is like brah wtaf idek how to kiss and its fluffy and awkward and idk man i love ur stuff :)))

AH! Hi! Thank you for sending this adorable ask and thank you for liking my stuff 😭. I tried to make it as fluffy and awkward as I could while letting Bakugou still be Bakugou. I feel like even though he has NO idea what he’s doing, he would just pretend that he does and blame any fuck ups on y/n. 😂I hope you enjoy!

ALso! This is my first Bakugou piece so 🤞🏽

“First Kiss”

Pairing: Bakugou X Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Making OUT

Word Count: 1580

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Mina asked in disbelief

You shook your head.

“Like never!?” Momo tagged along

The three of you were at a coffee shop in the middle of town, enjoying your weekend off. A conversation that was initially about work suddenly took a sharp turn into talking about boys. Great.

Mina bragged about a guy she was seeing, and how they planned on going on a trip soon.

Momo filled the two of you in about her latest fling, and how they were probably going to call it off.

But when it came to your turn, you had absolutely nothing to share.

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.” You whispered, nervously tucking your hair behind your ears.

The two gave each other a look before looking back towards you.

Momo spoke first “But y/n you’re so pretty. You’re telling me there’s no one that’s tried to kiss you?”

You shook your head and grabbed at your coffee mug. “Nope. Nobody.”

The conversation carried on like that for a while longer, before the two moved the conversation in a different direction.

You pondered the thought as they spoke.

‘Why have I never kissed someone?’

Pushing the thought aside you continued to converse with them, laughing and smiling until it was time to go home.

The three of you said your goodbyes and went your separate ways.

You pulled your phone out of your purse, reading a less than happy text from Bakugou.

Baku: what the FUCK is taking you so long.

You couldn’t help but laugh before typing back your response

Y/N: “Not everyone has as much free time as you do.”

His response was quick

Baku: “What the fuck ever. Be here in 10 minutes or don’t bother coming.”

You smiled and stuffed your phone into your pocket, making your way to Bakugou’s apartment.

Movie night was a weekly occurrence, and you were usually late.

You made your way up the stairs to Bakugou’s apartment door. Before you could even knock the door swung open, and Bakugou loomed angrily in the doorframe.

“It took you fuckin’ long enough.” He grumbled before turning away and walking towards the living room.

You chuckled and closed the door behind you, taking your shoes off before stepping onto the plush carpet.

He plopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote, quickly switching it to Hulu.

“What are we gonna watch?” You asked heading for the fridge and grabbing a soda. He didn’t respond as he flicked through the movies, eventually settling on one.

“You don’t get to help pick. You’re fuckin late.”

You checked your watch and looked up to him in disbelief “oh PLEASE. Kirishima is late too.”

The bickering simmered down after a few minutes and you sat next to him

“What took you so long anyway?”

A sigh left your lips as you grabbed a plush pillow and hugged it gently. “I was getting coffee with Mina and Momo.”

He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about ‘fucking extras’

“Conversation must’ve been enlightening.” He sneered sarcastically

You thought back to it, zoning out for a moment.

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Would you believe me if I said I’d never been kissed.”

He looked over at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What the fuck are you on about now?”

You laughed a little bit. “I was talking to them about it, and they made me feel…” you huffed “Weird about it.”

“Wait. You’ve never been kissed ever?”

Here we go again

You groaned “No.”

The two of you stayed silent

“Have you?”

Bakugou gave you a look. “Once.”

This took you off guard. You had imagined that Bakugou had a ton of experience with the number of girls that fawn over him. Then again, Bakugou never could quite stand any of them, could he?

“Do you think you could teach me?” You asked, instantly tensing up. Of all people, you figured that someone as close to you as Bakugou would be ideal to ask. But as you looked into his eyes, and the confusion that floated in them you weren’t too sure if it was the best decision.

His eyes widened slightly. “What.”

You cowered a bit, “You know what forget it I’ll just ask kirishi-“

He cut you off scooting closer, “Kirishima doesn’t know shit.”

Two of you leaned towards each other instinctively and held each other’s gaze.

“So does this mean yes?” Heat began to spread to your ears as you mumbled your response.

Never in a million years would you guess that you’d be in this situation, nor did you expect Bakugou to actually indulge you.

He rolled his eyes in response before tucking a piece of hair behind your ear gently.

“Are you stupid or what?” His voice came out angrily, but his facial expression betrayed him. He was just as hyper-focused on your lips as you were in his.

You attempted to close the gap and make the first move. But to your disdain Bakugou had the same idea, and your noses collided. The two of you pulled back immediately, and you felt as your ears got hotter.

Both of you spoke in unison, avoiding each other’s gaze “Sorry.”

After a few silent moments had passed, he shifted uncomfortably before leaning back in. “Keep your head tilted idiot.”

Of course, he would blame you.

“Okay.” You tried again, leaning in and letting your lips meet his. It was a glorified peck if anything, seeing that you pulled back so quickly. As the reality of the situation set in you began to feel anxious. You and Bakugou were alone in his apartment, kissing. You truly hoped that this wouldn’t ruin anything between the two of you as friends, but if you were being honest, you didn’t want to stop now. As you began to overthink you twiddled your fingers nervously.

‘This was a dumb idea’ you thought.

By now your entire face was hot and your hands were sweating. Neither of you broke eye contact and maintained a few centimeters of distance. The silence between the two of you was deafening, the only sounds filling the room were gentle breaths and the movie playing in the background.

“Was that okay?” You asked softly, over analyzing the last kiss. You stared into his eyes with uncertainty, and then down to his lips. His features were softened, and his brows were relaxed, which was a stark contrast to his usual scowl. He blinked slowly while looking into yours gently.

“Shut up.”

He placed his hands to your cheeks lightly before closing the space between you again. His lips pressed softly against your own. Your heart began to race as your lips moved together gently. But this time you didn’t pull away.

At this point, the movie in the background was just an afterthought, no longer worthy of being watched or even listened to. Your mind only focused on how Bakugou weaved his fingers through your hair and worked his soft lips against yours.

In response, you snaked your arms around Bakugou’s neck and shifted so that you were closer to him. One of his hands dropped to your waist and pulled your body even closer and you relished the feeling. Thoughts of whether or not things were going too far had already jumped out the window, and you threw caution to the wind.

Suddenly, you understood why Momo and Mina thought you were missing out.

The two of you continued to make out, soft lips working together. Neither of you seemed to come up for air as you desperately latched onto each other. You felt as he smiled against your lips, and you did the same.

The sound of keys rattling in the doorknob made the two of you jolt, instantly separating.

Fuck.

“Alright, guys. I brought all kinds of snack-“ he paused in the door frame as he looked over at the two of you. Though you had separated, you were still closer than usual, and your hair was still slightly disheveled; courtesy of Bakugou.

It was painfully obvious that the two of you had just made out.

Kirishima made his way into the living room, kicking off his shoes, not saying a word. The smirk on his face was enough, as he sat on the couch squeezing between you and Bakugou. His hand reached for the remote as he stifled a laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny,” Bakugou growled.

Kirishima’s eyes flicked up to Bakugous as he snickered. “Nice lip gloss dude.”

This caused Bakugou’s eyes to widen before he dragged the back of his hand against his lips roughly. He rose from the couch with a huff, making his way into the kitchen.

“Fuck off Kirishima.”

Once he was gone, Kirishima gave you a knowing look, quirking his eyebrows. You stared back towards the TV. Settling into your spot on the plush couch.

“Alright soooo what do you want to watch?” You questioned awkwardly.

Kirishima laughed as he pointed the remote to the tv. He glanced over towards Bakugou, who was looming in the kitchen awkwardly, and then back to you.

“I’m already pretty entertained.” He teased before settling on a movie.

You knew Kirishima wouldn’t let this one go.

Instantly you craned your neck to glance into the kitchen, your eyes landing on Bakugou’s. A mischievous half-smile painted his face, causing you to sink into the couch.

You knew Bakugo wouldn’t let it go either.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #mha imagines #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #bnha bakugo katsuki #mha fluff #bnha fluff #anon #bakugo x reader #bakugo imagine #bakugou fluff #bakugo fluff #request

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yaboylevi · 3 years

Note

Hi! I love ur blog, especially ur Snk Metas and Ereri metas. What are your thoughts on the whole “Eren has always been like this” (always been evil or capable of great evils like genocide) that a lot of people seem to agree on? I’ve always had a hard time believing in that idea because we’ve been shown multiple times that Eren is capable of sympathy and empathy, so to say he’s ALWAYS been like this is wrong.

Hi! Thank you!!

Looking through my snk 121 tag I found that I have already received similar questions, so I’m gonna link one here if you want the short version of it. Even if it was something I wrote up right after the chapter was out, it’s not like my opinion has changed much... more like, my faith in Isayama writing a decent conclusion and explanation in regards to Eren has plummeted in the past year and a half.

But anyway, now we have some new information pertaining Eren, so I feel like I can add more on this moment and my take on it in light of such new perspective.

Let me preface this with: Eren hates what he’s doing, is despising every second, was scared of his future visions, often paralyzed, desperate to find a better solution than this, because he knows - let me repeat it - HE KNOWS this is horrifying. We had hints throughtout the story, but many have ignored them. For me, Eren going through grief and apologizing for something he hadn’t even done yet in chapters 131 was no shocker at all, but I guess some people may have actually been surprised, I don’t know. It was right there since the Marley arc and his breakdown over Sasha, but many have completely misinterpreted that scene, denying it was desperation that he was feeling, so it was nice to finally have confirmation. Kinda.

However, you know, Isayama doesn’t seem to have picked a side on his characterization of Eren. Or maybe there is still something that’s concealed, because everything we have seen, isn’t evething that has happened, and it doesn’t explain yet some things about Eren and, relevant to this post, why Eren has decided to give up and give in to his future self’s memories of destruction. I’m sorry, but Eren believing “there is no other way, other than killing the whole world’s population, because the future cannot be changed” due to some memories is not gonna cut it, especially because we haven’t seen him fight too hard against it. In my opinion, at least. Or maybe he did, but we haven’t been shown.

The most hopeful part of my heart wishes he is already trying to change things, in a very roundabout and secret way, but the tired and logical part is done hoping. After all, Eren is alternating between being hellbent on going through with rumbling the world, and being absolutely horrified by it. I’ve been getting whiplash every month for a couple of years now.

As for your actual question, and that line during the Paths Time Travel...

Let’s start from here, shall we? That whole conversation with Zeke in Paths was to Zeke what chapter 112 was to Mikasa and Armin, imo. Chapter 121, huh, same numbers...but anyways. I think I have already wrote it somewhere, but I believe Eren lied, and purposely hurt Zeke. To make him, and Mikasa and Armin, realize something and act accordingly, maybe against Eren himself.

In Mikasa’s case, the realization was gradual since then, because Eren’s lies kickstarted it immediately. In Armin’s case, I think we still haven’t seen the full potential of it, though it may come next chapter - and I mean the “You were influenced by Bertolt, an enemy” angle. I am surprised Armin hasn’t followed this reasoning in regards to Eren, who has three titans within him, none of them particularly allied with Paradis. We left Armin seeing Bertolt, who is, in turn, watching him. I wonder if a conversation won’t happen right off the bat in chapter 136.

Anyhow, Eren, in chapter 112, also very much hit Armin and Mikasa where it hurt them the most - which is the same thing he did to Zeke here, bringing up his hate for Grisha and how it was the only think really fuelling him, and went through all the effort of making him reconcile with Grisha. Mmm, sus. Am I the only one feeling it’s sus??? I really have to wonder if he doesn’t kind of want/need Zeke to stop him, just like I believe he did with Armin and Mikasa. After all, there was no need to antagonize them and make them have reasons to stop caring for him, if he didn’t want to be stopped.

So, if it wasn’t already clear, Eren is a big liar, and he’s good at it if you don’t know him (and Zeke, Armin, and Mikasa have proven they don’t know or understand him very well at times). His acting skills have been shown all the way back in the cabin scene when he was 8 years old and tricked those traffickers.

There is another layer to these lies that I’d like to touch upon, though.

The line you were inquiring about feels exactly like his “I am free” in chapter 112. He sounds so sure, but it is a freaking lie.

See how both Armin and Mikasa are confused by such a bold, out-of-the-blue statement, the same way Zeke asks Eren “Since birth?” because, like, what is that all even about?

Eren has been feeling trapped in his own future memories to the point that his freedom of choice even existing anymore has become a big question mark. There is no freedom in following the path you were shown.

Eren’s urge to save someone from “having their freedom solen” by “physically assaulting the perpetrators first” has never, ever meant that he was willing to or okay with sacrificing innocents. Quite the opposite, in fact. There have been whole arcs about that. About Eren freaking out over people dying for him, refusing to sacrifice friends for the bigger picture, grieving for or sympathizing with innocents losing their lives or having them destroyed by some bigger threat. That has not changed.

So the big question remains: Why?

With these outrageous and confident statements about himself, I don’t think Eren is merely lying to his interlocutor to change their perception of him. I think he is lying to himself as well in the meantime. It looks like it did the trick, or not - based on how you want to interpret it. He really has been dissociating hard during his rampage.

But it all depends on what Isayama's angle is with Eren. In 112 Eren seemed to believe his “I am free” statement because he had an instant reaction to Armin challenging it. At the same time, now that we also have chapter 130-131 to enrich our reading, there is no way Eren felt free into the choices he made after hearing Willy’s declaration of war. He saw a terrifying future, he hoped against hope that it would change, but felt powerless and gutted and desperate that all pointed to such a future being unchangeable. So I do wonder if maybe he didn’t end up lying to himself - subconsciously or not - that he is free... and that he is always been this way - a cold-blooded murderer who did it all for justice.

Zoom in on Eren forlornly watching himself as a kid show pure kindess to a girl who just went through the most traumatizing experience in her life.

For the matter, I don’t believe Eren “has always been this way”. I actually don’t believe he’s ever been that way. I don’t know why many(?) people just accept whatever Eren says at face value, ignoring all context surronding it.

As I posted very recently, it doesn’t make sense for Eren to go from one extreme to the other without a better excuse, or explanation, or a more believable writing of it...or a plot twist that I guess I will wait for for another 4 months:

Eren came to realize that outside the walls people are just...well, people. There are good ones everywhere, people who suffered just like him, people who deserve better, certainly don’t deserve to be caught up in the Rumbling, people who have lives, children, moms, loved ones. This is highlighted again in chapter 131, because maybe, when Eren brought it up in the basement with Falco and Reiner, people didn’t think he was being genuine. So Isayama shows us again that Eren truly believed that.

And yet, the chapter before, Eren put those very same people on the same level of Titans when he used to think Titans were scum, a nightmare sent to eat them alive, because he addressed them with “匹”, a derogatory counter when applied to people, because it is usually used for small animals.

The parallel to how he used to feel towards Titans is smacked in our faces, because in Japanese, it’s the same exact line. He now feels that way about people.

...What?

It doesn’t make sense, right?

Because really, the same way Eren’s first impulse in Marley was to save Ramzi when he was being beaten up (and threatened with a worse fate than some bruises), the same way Eren helped him regardless and again went against 3 full-grown men, it’s the same way Eren rushed to Mikasa’s rescue when he didn’t even know her... or the same way he pushed himself into a Titan’s mouth just to save Armin. it doesn’t come from a sentiment of “I need to punish these monsters because they are threatening me”. It comes from a natural, intrinsic need to help and save others. It is deeply saddening that at the end of this journey, with Ramzi, he just feels like this natural predisposition of his is just a fake and turns him into a hypocrite.

So for Eren to say he has always been that way while looking at his 8 years old self stabbing a human trafficker in the chest to save a little girl to try and explain why he’s killing innocent people who happens to be living alongside “the bad guys” is a false equivalence. Either it’s a lie Eren tells himself and to Zeke to make both of them believe this is what Eren is, and has always been, and there is nothing they could do to prevent it - in a sort of twisted liberation from guilt because “if I was always like this, then you and I both shouldn’t have expected anything different”...

...or it’s Isayama’s failed attempt at presenting a theoretical concept he liked and talked about in interviews, suddenly turning Eren into a poster boy for it and canceling previous sides of Eren’s complexity as a character. I would like to believe Isayama hasn’t lost his magic touch this badly, but every day I’m less sure of it.

My opinion, for what is worth, is that that line you quoted is something he said to trick Zeke into detaching himself from Eren and going against him - breaking the bonds of love all around him has been a very deliberate choice Eren has made post time-skip - and at the same time it’s something Eren is trying to believe himself, in a desperate attempt at explaining to his own conscience that he was destined to bring such destruction, that he was always capable of it, and that there is a sort of justice in it where there isn’t. And he knows, deep down. That’s why he dissociates in the end.

In a very twisted, self-deprecating way, Eren is a liar to everyone, himself included. He has become an unreliable narrator about himself. Eren has completely shut down because he cannot stand what he is doing.

And I would very much like to know why he gave up on trying to find a different solution, if that’s what it is that happened, and why he sounds like a different person every other scene he appears in, in the next 4 months.

#eren yeager #snk spoilers #snk meta #shingeki asks

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kbstories · 4 years

Text

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, Kamino Arc, Kidnapping & Aftermath, Hurt/Comfort, Bakugou Gets A Hug

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Content warning for kidnapping, aftermath of violence. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

i’m gonna die (sent 19:08)

no seriously i’m this 👌🏻 close to losing it bro (sent 19:08)

aizawa’s voice is so zzzz and it’s like sir,, i’m begging,,,, (sent 19:09)

a little bit of energy. just a little bit (sent 19:09)

A nudge to his side, somewhat urgent.

shit brb (sent 19:10)

“Dude.”

Kirishima keeps his voice down to a hiss, shooting a glance at Aizawa’s turned back just in case. Hidden behind his pencil case, his phone shows Bakugou has read his messages – near-immediately, as always – before Kirishima locks the screen. His own face is reflected on sleek, innocent black.

Next to him, Kaminari is looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Don’t dude me, dude”, he whispers back. “Texting in Aizawa’s class? D’you have a death wish?”

Next to Kaminari, Mina leans over her desk, clearly curious and uncaring of her notes crinkling quietly under her elbows. “You? Kiri, paragon of wholesomeness and sunshine, breaking the rules? Lemme guess, it’s because of Bakugou.”

Next to Mina, Sero joins the fray with a muted headshake. “So brave yet so reckless. Truly inspiring.”

“You can say that again. That guy’s scary, man.” That’s Kaminari again. He leans in conspiratorially, nodding at Kirishima’s phone. “You got Blasty’s number? How? He almost bit my head off when I invited him to the 1-A chat.”

“Uh, yeah? We’re besties. But guys…”

If they were anywhere else, Kirishima would let out a whine. All he wanted to do was keep himself awake by texting his bro, is that such a crime? Especially since Bakugou’s the only one of ‘em who is actually allowed out there, where the fun stuff is happening. It’s downright cruel to have a new challenge dangled in front of their eyes like the juiciest steak only to be dragged away to the equivalent of plain steamed broccoli. Or something.

Point is: Kirishima’s bored enough he could cry and Aizawa, bless his insomnia-plagued soul, is making it about a thousand times worse with his monotone mumbling while he continues to write whatever-the-fuck in chalk to illustrate his point.

Three mouths open simultaneously in what Kirishima knows will be a too-loud bout of teasing – a frantic gesture of his hand to shut up, shut up, shut up has identical grins bursting on his friends’ faces.

Grins that disappear the instant the familiar sense of Aizawa’s quirk washes over them. Uh oh.

Aizawa doesn’t even have to say anything. Not even a brief pause registers in his lecture yet Kirishima snaps to attention so hard his buttcheeks clench as he furiously scribbles down what’s on the board. Some sort of… diagram? (It’ll make sense later, Kirishima hopes. And if it doesn’t, there’s always his equally draconic tutor-slash-best-friend he can poke into helping him eventually.)

After a semester at U.A., everyone in 1-A is whipped enough that not a single word is breathed between them for a good fifteen minutes. Aizawa talks, they take notes.

Then the adrenaline wears off and Kirishima finds himself drifting once more, fingers automatically flicking the home button. There, over Crimson Riot’s confident grin, three new messages.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

pay attention (received 19:14)

ffs (received 19:14)

hope aizawa murdered your ass (received 19:16)

No surprises there. Well, the fact that Bakugou has deigned to reply just before a training exercise kind of is, and he even triple-texted which makes a sappy part of Kirishima’s brain think he must’ve rubbed off on him over the past months. The day Bakugou Katsuki discovers emojis can’t be far off now and it will be Kirishima’s greatest achievement to date.

He bites his lip to suppress an amused noise at that. Ignoring the incredulous stare from Kaminari to his right, Kirishima types.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

haha! i lived bitch (sent 19:32)

minus the bitch askdjfhsk sry (sent 19:32)

i’m just tired af lol (sent 19:32)

how’s things on ur end tho? (sent 19:34)

no asses left unkicked i’m sure (sent 19:34)

👊🏻💥💥 (sent 19:35)

Kirishima gets about a solid second to feel good about furthering his pro-emoji agenda before his phone is snatched away by rigid, white cloth. Wide-eyed, his gaze is met by a flat expression that exudes more exhaustion than any human should rightfully have to feel.

“Kirishima”, Aizawa says, as calm as ever. “How kind of you to lend me your attention.”

Lord have mercy. Whichever hell Aizawa is about to unleash on him, Kirishima will be in it for a while. And when that’s over, it’ll be Bakugou’s turn to have a field day with it.

Somehow, Kirishima is actually looking forward to that last part.

Then, a voice rings out in their heads. Aizawa jumps into motion. The villains strike.

Afterwards, all Kirishima can do is stand there and watch the forest burn. His phone is silent, held between fingers that won’t stop trembling no matter what he does. He unlocks, checks, locks, only to do it all over again a few minutes or seconds later.

Around him, everything is spinning out of control. Reality is too loud, too bright, already overwhelming where it waits to be acknowledged beyond the soothing green interface of his chat with Bakugou.

The messages are still there. Marked read until they aren’t, and Kirishima stares at that subtle difference like it’s the last thing tethering him to the ground. Blue tick, his best friend is fine. Grey tick–

Bakugou let Kirishima take a photo of him, once. Kirishima had complained about his profile picture being that creepy default silhouette, especially once they started texting on a daily basis. So Bakugou sighed and leaned over the tiny table of the café, his chin propped on one hand and his coffee in the other. He’d kept still just long enough for the shutter to go off and called him a clingy bastard right after.

In the soft morning light, there’d been something warm in his typical glare. It’s still there, tucked away in the top left corner of the screen. Fond, red eyes, looking straight at Kirishima ever since.

Higher and higher, the flames reach for the sky with greedy, cobalt fingers, bright enough to take the stars with them. And Bakugou?

Bakugou is gone.

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

hey (sent 23:01)

it’s a long shot but (sent 23:03)

are u there? (sent 23:03)

these are going thru so ur phone is on and i thought (sent 23:08)

idk (sent 23:08)

please respond man (sent 23:37)

please (sent 23:58)

katsuki? (sent 00:40)

Nitro!! (Baku 💣💥)

fuck (sent 3:24)

Bakugou Katsuki

um (sent 6:13)

the pros asked for ur number to track it and stuff so i gave it to them (sent 6:13)

turns out almost nobody has it?? so like (sent 6:20)

if u want a new one after all this it’s on me (sent 6:21)

pls don’t be mad haha (sent 6:21)

fuck that actually (sent 7:05)

be as mad as u want baku (sent 7:06)

u can do whatever ok? when u come back (sent 7:09)

free pass. i won’t guard this time (sent 7:09)

just come back (sent 8:00)

they’re looking for u so u gotta come back (sent 8:02)

Baku 💣💥

sry i just (sent 19:55)

ok still going thru (sent 19:55)

that’s good right? (sent 19:57)

i need it to be good (sent 20:05)

yeah (sent 20:06)

Baku 💣💥

it’s saturday (sent 2:33)

please be ok (sent 4:46)

i miss u (sent 5:00)

Baku 💣💥

we’re on our way katsuki (sent 12:45)

just hold on we’re coming for u (sending…)

wait (sending…)

oh (sending…)

Bakugou is quiet.

When all is said and done, injuries patched up and police statements given, Kirishima waits and Bakugou looks… tired. Small. Glancing back at the precinct with eyes a little too wide, a little too hesitant to truly belong to him.

Whatever he’s searching, if he finds it or not – Kirishima can only guess as Bakugou’s shoulders slump further and he mutters, “Let’s just go.”

In retrospect, he was probably talking to his parents. The Bakugous came for their son in a car as expensive as they come, white with chrome highlights and an interior clad entirely in tasteful, beige leather; it’s an aesthetic that’s the antithesis to Katsuki’s. Their expressions are full of love, though, brows drawn in concern carefully left unspoken. His father opens the back door for him first, going for his own in the front, while his mother ruffles Bakugou’s hair within the one-second-window he allows for the touch before shrugging it off.

“Welcome back, brat. We missed ya.”

Familiar phrases laden with far too much weight. From the outside in, it’s just that: Mildly exasperated parents picking up their kid after some school thing that dragged on into the night, or perhaps a late hangout with a friend. No one acknowledges the nightmare-ish three days they’ve left behind by the merit of time passing and the world spinning on and nothing else – the countless people injured or dead, an entire district torn asunder in a conflict much bigger than any of them, especially Bakugou.

Bakugou, who shuffles onto the backseat without saying much of anything. It’s only after Kirishima trails after him and Bakugou’s eyes meet his own over his shoulder that Kirishima realizes that’s what he’s doing.

Then Bakugou’s gaze softens and he kicks the door of the car open wider. “Um”, Kirishima pipes up, the noise of keys clinking together drawing his attention to one Bakugou Mitsuki. “Is it okay if I…?”

She snorts and ruffles his hair, too. “Kid, after what you did tonight, a ride home is the least I can do for ya. C’mon.”

Kirishima bows politely, a mumble of “Thanks, ma’am” waved away immediately. A moment later, Kirishima’s hand is being grabbed and he’s dragged inside. “Get a move on”, Bakugou mumbles, staring pointedly until Kirishima rights himself and digs for the seatbelt with his free hand. The click of the clasp snapping in is oddly loud in the ensuing silence.

It doesn’t last. The moment the engine purrs to life and the lights go off, a heavy guitar riff screeches from cleverly hidden speakers in perfect surround sound and Kirishima jumps. He’s the only one in the car to do so.

“Whoops, my bad”, says Bakugou’s mom as she turns the music down the slightest amount, her smirk – so familiar and yet not – clearly visible in the rear-view mirror. Next to her, Bakugou’s dad chuckles and shakes his head.

Bakugou himself is turned towards the window, the hand against his chin barely hiding the tiny smirk there. Kirishima lets him have it. Anything that’ll replace that lost expression from earlier is good in his books.

“So. Eijirou, right? Nice to finally meet ya.” Mrs. Bakugou checks in with him via the mirror. Her hand rests on the gear selector. “Where to? We’ll bring you home first. I’m sure your parents are worried.”

And oh fuck, Kirishima hasn’t even thought that far ahead yet. When he snuck out of the house a lifetime ago, all his mind was able to process was getting to Bakugou, saving Bakugou, bringing Bakugou back. As much as both his mothers are angels in their own right, they’re also easily worried and twice as buff as him. There haven’t been many occasions which called for them to throw down for their son but they totally would if given half the chance.

If they catch wind of even a fraction of what Kirishima got up to tonight, someone will have to pay. Kirishima’s willing to bet his most prized, limited-edition Crimson Riot figurine that that someone will end up being all of U.A., nationally famous pro heroes or not.

Before any of that can make it out of his mouth, Kirishima’s hand is squeezed and… Oh. Bakugou’s still holding it. Their skin isn’t touching; Kirishima’s sleeve has been pulled down to prevent that.

(It’s one of those things Bakugou does, tracking who and what gets in direct contact with his sweat and how to neutralize it in time. It makes Kirishima’s chest ache that, despite everything that happened, he is still aware of small things like that.)

“He’s crashing at ours tonight”, Bakugou tells his parents rather gruffly. Still looking out the window like there’s nothing unusual about that at all, and Kirishima gapes at him in complete and utter surprise. Bakugou’s grip only tightens.

“Got a problem with that?”

Just like that, Kirishima finds himself able to process speech. “Nope! Not at all. Uh, that is– Mrs. Bakugou, Mr. Bakugou, can I?”

Bakugou’s parents look similarly caught off-guard. To their credit, they merely blink and look at each other, shrugging. Again, it’s the mother who speaks. “That’s Mitsuki and Masaru to you, kid. Let’s go home, then.”

And that’s that. They set off, the car’s movement a quiet thrum that’s drowned out by complicated drum solos and vocals barely scraping past outright growling. Any other day, Kirishima would’ve been ecstatic to finally get to meet the Bakugous. He’d hoard bits and pieces of knowledge about them – such as the fact that Katsuki’s taste in music runs in the family, what the hell – like a dragon does gold coins. The notion that Bakugou invited him to their first sleep-over ever would be the biggest treasure on that pile, for sure.

Because Bakugou Katsuki is anything if not cautious: with his quirk, with his time, with his trust. Because, after days of pacing his room and worrying himself sick and crying until exhaustion took him out, their plan worked.

They pulled it off, Bakugou is back and alive, and Kirishima’s allowed to stay by his side a little bit longer.

He’s here because Bakugou wants him to be and that… feels better than Kirishima can properly put into words. So, no, he doesn’t boast about it, he doesn’t have the energy to – but Kirishima notes and appreciates it nonetheless, relief forming a ball of warmth and light that radiates within him like a tiny sun got stuck between his lungs and his heart. Bit by bit, it melts the tension off Kirishima’s bones until all he can grasp is the steady presence of Bakugou’s hand in his and how heavy his eyelids feel.

Kirishima could sleep for a week straight and still crave a nap afterwards. Probably.

There’s something he has to do before he crashes, though. With a gentle squeeze, he frees his hand to grab his phone and winces at the dozens of unread messages and missed calls that greet him. Both the group he has with his family as well as the one for 1-A have been running hot most of the night, reducing his battery to a pitiful 12%.

Opening up the chat with his moms, Kirishima scrolls to the bottom of the increasingly worried barrage of texts and hesitates, his fingers hovering over the keypad. Once he starts typing, he’ll have about a minute before shit really hits the fan.

💪🏻Kirishima Power 💪🏻

guys i’m so sorry!!! (sent 21:58)

i know ur worried and stuff and i swear i’ll explain later ok?? (sent 21:58)

just wanna let u know i’m safe!! staying over at baku’s tonight (sent 21:58)

he’s here and safe too (sent 21:58)

🙏🏻🙏🏻 (sent 21:59)

He pauses then, reading that last part over and over again. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. A smile cracks Kirishima’s lips apart and it remains there, steadfast through the flood of new messages rolling in.

Bakugou’s room is both everything Kirishima expected it to be and at the same time… not.

It’s huge, for one, the typical bed-wardrobe-desk setup expanded by a couch and a beanbag, a TV with a variety of game systems hooked up to it, a handful of shelves filled to the brim with books and manga and oh, a whole freaking drum set taking up a corner by itself. The walls are plastered with band posters and signed set lists and – less blatant but still there – the odd All Might merch Kirishima knows Bakugou would strangle him for mentioning, so he doesn’t.

What comes out of his mouth is: “Dude! I didn’t know you played drums. That’s so cool!”

Everything is kept in the triad of black-orange-green Kirishima recognizes from a certain hero costume. A few discarded shirts aside, it’s really tidy. So much so that Kirishima feels ashamed of the state of his own room just by seeing this.

The feeling is compounded by Bakugou picking up those shirts and throwing them in the hamper first thing, a quiet tch indicating he’s annoyed by it. Kirishima isn’t up to outing himself as an unrepentant walking mess in comparison – instead, he makes a beeline for the bookshelf with the manga, eyes drawn to a row of covers he’d recognize in a heartbeat.

“Wha– I’ve been looking for these for ages! They’re sold out every time I try to catch up on ‘em.”

A short glance at Bakugou is answered with a shrug and an eye-roll: It’s Bakugou-speak for do whatever the hell you want. Kirishima pulls out the volume he stopped at and leafs through it.

It’s meant as a distraction for Bakugou, a space for him to drop the put-together façade and breathe without people constantly fussing over him. It’s honestly what Kirishima would rather be doing right now (exploring his best bro’s room be damned) but it’s not what Bakugou needs. Well, what Kirishima thinks he needs.

It’s hard to get a read on him without the constant snark and pointed glares. With some dinner in their bellies and Bakugou’s parents now safely downstairs, the expression that fits nowhere on the Angry Bakugou Face catalogue is back. Kind of uncomfortable and so… absent.

Kirishima is really starting to hate that expression.

It’s entirely accidental that Kirishima actually gets into reading. One chapter turns to three, turns to five, and the troubles and worries whirling ever-tighter in his chest ease for a bit until–

Woosh. A soft, balled-up something knocks against the back of his head. Kirishima startles and almost drops the manga, a vaguely alarmed noise stopped short by the sight of Bakugou in sweats and a well-worn, black shirt. His hair is wet. Wild as ever. At Kirishima’s feet: A similar outfit including a towel.

“Bathroom’s that way. Leave your clothes out by the door, I got special detergent for the nitro. Shampoo and shit’s in the shower, there’s a toothbrush for you by the sink. Use it.”

Kirishima opens his mouth.

Bakugou sighs. “It’s just a fucking toothbrush, Kiri. Wreck it for all I care.”

Kirishima closes his mouth. He nods. His phone is quickly dug out of his pocket and set aside, then he slips out to shower.

A good fifteen minutes later, he opens the door to let out a gust of steam and sees his clothes are gone. The hallway is empty, half-lit by the light coming from downstairs. The Bakugous have been as nonchalant about their spontaneous guest as Bakugou himself; even so, Kirishima tries not to linger or make too much noise as he sneaks back to Bakugou’s room.

“Baku. I’m back.”

Bakugou gives him a grunt of acknowledgement from where he’s fitting some sheets over the couch, folded out to provide a decently sized bed. There’s a pillow and a pile of blankets next to him, wrapped in fresh linen as well. It’s unlikely he’s stopped doing stuff since Kirishima left and if he is about ready to crash in five to ten minutes, he can’t imagine how Bakugou is doing right now.

Y’know, the guy who just survived being kidnapped by Japan’s newest and most notorious villain menace. No amount of pretense can make that simple fact undone.

Kirishima pads over to help, the offer to take over already on his lips but– Too late. The last corner is already being tucked in and laid flat with grim-faced efficiency. Left with nothing else to do, Kirishima sits down on the very edge, eyes downcast and fingers fiddling with the hem of his borrowed shirt. There’s some sort of band logo on it, an English word written in that typical death-metal-font that looks like someone dumped a bunch of white sticks in a pile and called it a day.

It’s soft. A little loose and frayed around the edges.

“Hey, Baku?”

Taking the blankets, Bakugou dumps them in Kirishima’s lap. “Mh?” He makes to step away and Kirishima doesn’t think, just reaches out and catches the back of his shirt.

“Dude, seriously. Just… sit down for a minute. Please?”

And Bakugou… listens. He stops, he frowns at Kirishima for a moment like he’s trying to figure out what his deal is, he sighs like he’s been presented with the world’s most aggravating puzzle – and then he tells Kirishima to scooch. “What? I’m not gonna sit on the fucking floor”, he says.

Kirishima can’t keep the relief off his face as he gladly makes room on the couch, leaning against its arm and tucking his legs in. Once Bakugou has settled, cross-legged with an elbow propped on the backrest, Kirishima throws the blanket over both of ‘em. Might as well get comfortable while they still can.

“Okay.” He steels himself with a long, slow breath. “I know you hate this kinda thing and we’re both tired and… stuff. Still, though: Are you okay?”

Bakugou gives him a look, which– Okay, fair. It’s a dumb question with an obvious answer. Kirishima doesn’t back down, though, humming to buy himself some time to rephrase.

“Like… It’s fine if you’re not. Okay, I mean. And if you’d rather go the fuck to bed and not think about this for a while that’s fine, too. But that was pretty rough and you’ve been, um, quiet. And stuff. So, I’m kinda worried. Y’know?”

Kirishima pauses. A bit lower, he mumbles: “And I missed you. So yeah.”

At some point, he dropped his gaze to his hands, limp and useless in his lap. Kirishima swore not to be a coward anymore but it’s hard, to speak and ask about things in full awareness he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.

All he wants is for Bakugou to be okay. That’s all that matters, at the end of a day like this.

“I’m not”, Bakugou says, tentatively. Like he’s making up his mind as he goes. “I’m not gonna waste your time with ‘I’m fine’. I’m not. This shit’s fucked up.” And again he sighs, sounding so fucking tired Kirishima’s heart squeezes in sympathy.

“I haven’t slept in three fucking days; my shoulders are killing me from using my quirk and sitting chained to that stupid chair and whatever the fuck else. The League scouted me specifically because they thought I’d make a good villain and fuck them for that. Fuck them. But it’s just… It’s whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Whatever Kirishima expected, it’s not that. He looks up and into Bakugou’s eyes and–

He can’t mean that, can he? Kirishima searches his face for evidence to the contrary, traces the tension around Bakugou’s mouth and the exhaustion smudged under his eyes and the line between his brows, growing deeper under Kirishima’s scrutiny. It all reads defeat. It hurts.

They won, right? A childish voice within Kirishima can’t help but cling to that even as he looks back down. They won, and things are supposed to get better when you win.

“People got hurt. People died, Kiri. Heroes, too.” Bakugou takes a shaky breath, a hand going to his hair and rubbing it roughly. “Fucking… Best Jeanist was there and nobody at the precinct wanted to tell me if he’s alive or dead or what. All of Kamino Ward is fucking gone and All Might–”

Bakugou’s voice cracks right down the middle and it hurts. Like there’s a beast tearing through Kirishima’s chest to rip out his heart and throw it to the floor, stubbornly beating as it bleeds out.

Kirishima wants to say something. Anything. All he can hear is Bakugou’s breathing but it’s all wrong, off-rhythm and thread-bare and upset, and any doubt what that means is erased as Bakugou’s hand clenches on the sheets and he sniffs, wet on the exhale.

“Baku–”

“Don’t. Kiri, don’t–”

He’s always been like that, ordering him around and demanding things when politeness dictates to ask for them instead. His tone is as close to pleading as Kirishima’s ever heard from Bakugou, though, and it twists him up inside to the point he feels distantly nauseous.

“Don’t look.” Bakugou isn’t supposed to sound like that. Not now, not ever. “Okay? Don’t f-fucking– Don’t look at me right now.”

“Okay”, Kirishima says. “I won’t.” His own voice is a mess as well, trembling all over the place. “I won’t, Nitro. I won’t.”

You’re safe, is what he wants to tell him. It’s okay, you’re safe now. That’s not what Bakugou is asking of him. Kirishima can’t stop himself from crying because it’s always been hard not to when the people he loves are doing it, but… He tries. For Bakugou, he’ll always try.

Through eyes heavily clouded by tears, he sees Bakugou’s hand tighten, knuckles going white and bloodless. Painfully tense, and Kirishima can’t stand the sight of that, either.

He shuffles a little closer to place his hand over that fist, careful to only touch the back of Bakugou’s hand. Kirishima whispers, “I’m here”, and Bakugou audibly swallows. He lets him slip his fingers in-between his own.

Holding on, just as he did in the car and when they met in mid-air, that desperate instance that decided whether he would make it out alive or not.

Bakugou holds on even as he breaks for good and his shoulders shake with his sobs. As he continues to breathe in gulps of air that sound strangled and desperate, through tears that leave a pattern of uneven dots on the blanket. By morning they will be gone without a trace: The sun will come up, the world will continue to travel around it, and time will reveal the road they walk on as they walk it, step by step by step.

Just because it’s meant to pass doesn’t make this moment any less real. Any less important. Kirishima sits there and listens to his best friend cry. He remembers days spent without him and the mad dash to save him. He thinks of dumb questions and obvious answers.

It’s hard to tell if this is one of them, so he gathers all his courage and asks: “Katsuki. Can I hug you?”

Just like last time, Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He laughs, a watery, humorless thing – and he pulls at Kirishima’s shirt to crush him to his chest. His arms wind around Kirishima’s neck, Bakugou’s face pressing against his hair where Kirishima won’t be able to see him.

It’s fine. Kirishima’s great at hugs; he can totally work with that. Clenching his eyes shut, he adjusts his grip around Bakugou’s waist so he can rub his back, following the bumps of his spine. Up and down, over and over. Bakugou goes boneless in their embrace, not about to let go anytime soon and neither will Kirishima.

Eventually, Kirishima tucks his head against Bakugou’s shoulder, blinking sleep from his eyes. Safe. He doesn’t fight the sharp-toothed smile on his lips. Bakugou mumbles, “Fucking sap”, nearly drowned out by their collective sniffling.

It sounds a whole lot like thank you. Kirishima’s smile only grows.

>>Chapter 5

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #kiribaku #bnha fanfiction #hi kamino still makes me emo: the manifesto #this fic is also on AO3!!#reblogs appreciated c:#my stuff

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hayjeon · 4 years

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Tips on creating fun fanfic headers!

i had so much fun writing the fanfic writing tips yesterday and i got a few more questions about header-making, and so i decided to make one more of these! i hope these tips help somebody out there! hope you enjoy :)

p.s. these tips won’t require any hard editing skills or photoshop skills, nor any expensive tablets/apps!

typically i spend around ~5-10 min creating one header, and that’s either after i think of/finish a fic. i have so much fun doing it and sharing it with you that i figured i’d share how i do it!

why headers?

as I talked about in my fic tips, one of the most eye-catching things about fics are headers. when i’m scrolling through a rec page, my home page, a tag, or even someone’s masterlist, i’m immediately drawn to well-made headers. that’s what captures my attention, and then i’m more drawn in by the content. so, you can say that headers is your own version of an ad for your own fic, or an extension of it (like the cover of a novel!)

if you were writing your own book, imagine how much time you’d spend figuring out what you wanted your cover to look like. i try to have as much fun and invest as much time making my own headers because it’s just the cherry on top to my finished product :)

disclaimer: BUT HEADERS ARE NOT NECESSARY/DO OR DIE! if you don’t feel like you want to do this, then keep writing! its ok! this is just a suggestion. i’ve seen plenty of well-written fics without headers at all, so don’t beat yourself up over not having one/not wanting to do one. this is truly just a fun, extra kind of thing, and only keep reading if you want to learn how i do it! :)

tips for people who don’t want to make headers: if you still want something to make your fic stand out, use gifs! i use them in my drabbles a lot! this will at least give ur fic a lil boost!

how to find pictures

I typically use unsplash, which is a free website in which photographers upload their HQ pics for free use. the pics are really high quality, typically stock photos, and don’t have any logos on them like other ones on google. unfortunately, you won’t find any pics of the members or anything, but you’ll find beautiful stock photos of typical scenes like “ocean scene” or “desert scene.” I found the stock photo for cut me open (shown below) on that site by just looking up “medical” or “doctor”.

i used to use google a lot and just use keywords like “desert scene HQ” and edit the search settings to deliver HQ pics, and a minimum # of pixels, but unplash is definitely better in terms of quality, more aesthetic photos, and no logos/watermarks.

on some occasions, i will screenshot some scenes of youtube videos, turning up the quality to 1080p or 4k and zooming in so that the pixelation is as crisp as possible, and then editing it later to look good (which i’ll explain in a second!)

the above photo was a scene from the specific characters from the drama, “100 Days My Prince” that I screenshotted from a youtube video that TvN uploaded, recapping the drama. I cropped it just right so that their faces were left out, which i’ll also mention soon!

things to look for when picking pictures:

you want the picture to reflect a specific motif/theme from your fic! if its a moody fic, then try to find a moody scene that you can edit with filters/lighting to look even moodier; or if the characters’ jobs are a big portion of the fic (like cut me open/doctor theme) try to look for stock photos with that shown very clearly!

make sure its high quality: tumblr really dumbs down the quality of the photo when uploading it, so try your best to find something with a lot of pixels in it so that when you start editing, you don’t sacrifice too much of the quality already

try to look for something simple/clean: a picture with too much subject (ie. people in the background, or too much detail) may end up taking away from the main point of your header, which is your title. so find pics without too much clutter!

try to make sure its landscape: which will help during editing to save some of the quality better.

editing your pictures

now that you have a specific photo you want to use, now its time to edit! I use VSCO CAM (free app) and my own apple photos cropping tool for faster crops.

crop/adjust: if your picture is too large/wide, crop it to at least a 16:9 ratio. i’d say aim for skinnier if you can, so that you don’t take up too much space (especially if you’re planning to add headers to your masterlist). also crop out any faces, any clutter, any unnecessary details, so you have a nice, clean slate to work on when adding text.

contrast/sharpen/clarity/white balance/etc.: i’m not gonna give you a lesson on photography, but i’ll tell you I learned like 80% of everything that i know just by fiddling with it on VSCO! So just try it out and play with the app, see what you can make of it. i’d say a rule of thumb to follow is that you want happier fics with a brighter tone, and moodier/angsty fics with a darker tone so that it can reflect the nature of the fic further, without saying anything!

if you wanna be extra af like me, then go a step further and photoshop your pics. this one is a good example; when i screenshotted this scene from another youtube video for my fic One Year My Love part 2, i was specifically looking for a scene that would showcase the ornate/regal details of their clothing/environment in contrast to part 1′s modest clothing/scene (the first header in this post).

i found this scene, but actually, this scene portrays the Crown Prince and the Princess, not y/n. So, the actors weren’t smiling at all! They were actually frowning at eachother in this scene, to portray the tension between the two characters and their marriage.

So, I took the extra step, adjusting the pic with VSCO so that their shoulders/chins were at the same level, cropped off their faces up until their lips, and then used the adobe photoshop free app to photoshop their lips to be SMILING at eachother!!!! subtle, but important!

call me crazy for taking that much time but i’m so proud of how it turned out and i loved every second of making this one. that way, this scene makes it portray the happy ending for Jungkook and y/n!

adding text to your header

you can use any app out there, but i really like Font Candy! I actually ended up buying the 2$ version of this and never regretted it, but you can actually find a lot of their basic fonts on the free version; I tend to use the fonts: OSTRICH SANS, BEBAS, TREND, and INTRO the most! these are pretty clean-looking, block letters that look good whenever i put them as my titles.

I love this app too cause you can easily control the spacing between letters to make them take up more space, add shadows, or even make them contrast their background using the overlay feature; like this one i made for wildest dreams (see how the text changes depending on what part of the photo its on? amazing! it’s literally with a click of a button!!)

And i’ll always add “written by HAYJEON” or “by HAYEJON”, space it out, and add it somewhere underneath as my own branding.

orrrrrr

if you want to be more creative, you can even go a step further and use whatever you have on hand to enhance whatever you’re trying to portray.

for this one, i ended up finding this amazing photo on unsplash and i thought it would do a create job of portraying the “movie-set” quality of what wildest dreams is going to be about. this stock photo had someone else’s names on it, so i used my ipad, and used instagram to just erase the existing writing with the color of the background, and then wrote in my own title and url with my own handwriting/apple pen!!!

i thought this was pretty cool because it’s like wildest dreams is its own movie/has its own movie set, which, once it’s out, you guys will see that it’s supposed to be!

saving/uploading

this is pretty easy/obvious, but i figured i’d mention it. all the apps i mentioned are available on the appstore, and they will save directly to your photos. after doing that, i’ll just upload them into a special folder i have on my google drive so that when i’m finished writing a fic on tumblr using my laptop, i can easily download the photos without sacrificing quality. easy!

and that way, i can save them forever; even if i have to delete them from my computer, i can always redownload them!

side note: making text separators

i just recently started doing this, but ever since tumblr took down their text separators, i’ve just been cropping the bottom like 5-10 pixels of the header to use as my text separators! (with my laptop)

i saw some other writer doing it and thought that it looked better than what i had used previously (a cropped photo of a random line i found on google); i found that doing this tied my fics together a little better and just looked better aesthetically;

so there it is! hope you enjoyed! :) i would love to see what other tips you guys have been using, feel free to send me an ask or reply to this post; and if you end up using any of my tips, please let me know! I love to hear from you guys all the time <3

lots of love, especially during these times,

hay <3

#writing tips #story talk

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cryptidshuffle · 3 years

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the less we say about it the better - chp 1

ao3

Rating: Teen Fandom: Half-Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware Relationships: Tommy Coolatta & Gordon Freeman, Tommy Coolatta/Gordon Freeman (pre relationship) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Temporary Character Death(its benrey dont worry hes ok), meta about deaths and respawns, arguing about the rules of uno, gay pining, Mutual Pining, fellas is it gay to comfort ur friend who u love and are both boys?, also fair warning it'll eventually be a poly ship with benrey, Autistic Character, Autistic Tommy, ADHD Gordon, everyone is gay and trans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Summary: “after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental break downs.” they are trying to recover after black mesa, but recovery is hard. especially when one of you is still dead

---------------

They had been out of Black Mesa for a few weeks now. It was difficult trying to acclimate to life after the incident, but they were all making it work.

The science team had gotten together for some sort of game night, something cathartic about being around others who share the same trauma. Anyways, snacks and Uno was just as chaotic as one would imagine with this group of chucklefucks, with competitive tensions high on the last round of the night.

“You can’t stack the draw 4 cards, Gordon,” Bubby argued, smacking Gordon’s hand just as he placed the card.

“Says who?”

“It’s literally against the fucking rules of the game,” Bubby said back.

Tommy agreed with, “It is in the official rules, Mr. Freeman, they- Mattel confirmed it on Twitter.”

“But that’s dumb!” Gordon argued back, “I’ve always played where you can stack those, why change that now?"

Bubby retorted, “Well maybe you’ve always been playing wrong, huh? Ever thought about that, smartass?”

Dr. Coomer chimed in with, “Well on the official page for Uno (card game) on Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia that anyone can edit, it states that

The following official house rules are suggested in the Uno rulebook, to alter the game:

Progressive Uno: If a draw card is played, and the following player has the same card, they can play that card and "stack" the penalty, which adds to the current penalty and passes it to the following player.[4](Although a +4 cannot be stacked on a +2, or vice versa.)[6] This house rule is so commonly used that there was widespread Twitter surprise in 2019 when Mattel stated that stacking was not part of the standard rules of Uno.[6]”

“Well, there you have it,” Gordon exclaims, interrupting Coomer’s Wikipedia infodump, “Just because it’s a house rule doesn’t mean it’s not a legitimate way of playing."

“What if I don’t want to play with that rule, that’s fuckin stupid,” Bubby grumbles.

“Jesus ok, I'll play a different card, happy?” Gordon says dejectedly, taking back his controversial draw 4 card for a more innocuous one. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Bubby throws down his last card onto the pile. “I win fuckers!!!! Ahahahahaha!"

“You wouldn’t have won if you let me stack the fucking cards,” Gordon said as he threw his losing card pile onto the coffee table.

“Don’t fret Gordon! Bubby is just extremely good at card games,” Dr. Coomer replied.

“You're forgetting I’m a goddamn genius, that extends to my sick-ass Uno skills,” Bubby bragged.

Gordon chuckled, watching the two older scientists get up to leave, and watching Tommy remain, quietly cleaning up the uno deck into neat piles to place in its box.

“Well gentlemen, it’s been fun, though I think it’s time Bubby and I better get going!” Dr. Coomer said.

“No problem, don’t want you two to be late for your old man early-bird breakfast at Golden Corral tomorrow!” Gordon teased.

“Shut the fuck- I’ll kick your ass,” said Bubby.

“Hello Gord- Actually our old man breakfast is not until Saturday! It’s the one day a week I let loose and unhinge my jaws at the buffet like a Burmese Python!” said Dr. Coomer as Bubby grabs his coat and keys.

“That sounds absolutely horrifying,” Gordon laughs.

“It really is,” says Bubby. “Well, see you later asshole,” Bubby says, herding himself and Coomer out the front door.

“See you guys later,” Gordon says.

“Goodbye, Gordon! Goodbye, Tommy,” Coomer also says, before they leave Gordon’s apartment.

Tommy had yet to get up to leave, he stayed sitting in his seat staring into space, and fiddling with the Uno card deck.

“Hey Tommy, you alright man?” he asked gently. At the mention of his name, he was shaken a bit out of his stupor.

“Y-yeah I'm fine Mr. Freeman, why do you ask?”

“I mean you were kinda just staring into space for a bit, and you didn’t say anything when Bubby and Coomer left.”

“Oh shit. Sorry about that, I’ll get out of your hair,” Tommy said, starting to move to leave.

Gordon placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, just know I’m here if you wanna talk about it,” Gordon comforted.

Tommy blushed slightly at the contact and nodded.

“Thank you. I-uh… I’ve just been thinking about things that happened back in Black Mesa and, you know,” he pauses to think for a bit, and sighs, “honestly I’ve been thinking a lot about Benrey.”

Just at the mention of him, Gordon felt his stomach drop with the weight of too many emotions.

“Yeah...I uh… I understand,” he responds with a sad sigh, “anything in particular you’re thinking about him?”

“I don’t know just kind of- Earlier I started thinking about how much he would enjoy game night. And then I started to miss him and realize that- that he’s not here. I feel guilty about killing him and upset at what he did. He was still my friend and I just- I want to know why he did what he did. I just want to understand,” Tommy said.

Gordon looked away as he thought about his own emotions regarding Benrey. He was undeniably angry with him, for getting him ambushed by the bootboys, for getting his arm cut off, frustrated with the constant taunting. Yet… he also felt guilty for some reason and he couldn’t quite place why. Gordon really didn’t want to feel guilty.

“Yeah…” Gordon sighed, “I'll be honest I do feel guilty about it too. I don’t know why because I feel like it should be justified since he did try to kill us. But there were times when him pestering me about my arm felt like… like sincere questioning? I still… I don’t know.”

“Yeah… I think-” Tommy cut himself off, staring at a fixed point in his vision, trying to decide whether or not to bring this up.

“I don’t think Benrey understood how human mortality worked.”

Well, that wasn’t what Gordon expected. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he was from Xen, Mr. Freeman, he wasn’t human. It was different for him. You remember he did die several times, but he came back eventually. He had to wait for his form to regenerate.”

“Wait-” this time Gordon cut Tommy off, “Oh shit, that wasn’t a joke? For some reason I just assumed his talking about respawns and shit was part of his Epic Gamer bit?”

“I mean it was a little but I think… there’s probably a reason Benrey attached himself to video games so much, yeah? He can see himself in the structure. Like, uh- something he can relate to.” Tommy says. “It doesn’t excuse what- what he did, but I feel like knowing why things happened makes- makes them more understandable.”

Gordon leaned back on the couch blown away by the revelation. In hindsight it wasn’t that surprising but it took him a few seconds to come to terms with the reality.

“Yeah, when you put it that way, I guess it does make a lot of sense. Wait though, I swear to god all of you have died at least once, but you guys aren’t from Xen?” Gordon said, now confused about the seeming metanarrative of the mortality of his friends.

“Yeah, but those were weird Black Mesa things, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, not elaborating any more than that.

Gordon waited a beat for Tommy to explain more but he said all he needed to.

“I will ask you more about that later, but I do not have the energy to unpack all that right now,” Gordon said with a gentle laugh.

“Wait, getting back on topic real quick, why couldn’t Benrey just... respawn now? Did we really get him that good?”

Tommy looked incredibly sad when Gordon said this, and he regretted it immediately. ‘Damn it Gordon, Tommy’s clearly upset about Benrey, you don’t gotta be an insensitive dick.’

“Well Mr. Freeman, that’s kinda why I’ve been thinking about him,” Tommy said, “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t have taken him this long to respawn. Depending on the amount of damage it takes longer but… It’s been a while and what if- What if he is back but he is mad at all of us and that’s why we haven’t seen him? Or what if it is taking a really long time because we hurt him a whole lot. Or what if we…”

Tommy got quiet for a few seconds, the silence in the room was deafening. For an instance Gordon felt as if making a sound would shatter the air like glass.

Tommy finally said with a whisper, voice thick with choking back tears, “What if we killed him for good? And I don’t- I never see him again?”

It honestly broke Gordon’s heart how distraught Tommy was. Pushing his own complicated Benrey feelings aside, he was gonna focus on Tommy here and now.

“…Tommy, is it ok if I hug you, man?” Gordon couldn’t think of the best way to comfort the other man with words, but physical comfort he could do.

Tommy looked a little surprised at this ask but nodded. Gordon leaned in to hug the other scientist and Tommy collapsed in his embrace, completely breaking down.

Gordon just sat there and held him as Tommy sobbed into his shoulder, trying to comfort the crying man by rubbing circles into his back.

Gordon’s brain processed the things Tommy had said. Was Benrey really gone? Why did he feel guilty about the idea of having killed Benrey, he was fine with the concept during the final boss fight on Xen but now… the thought made him feel… sad? Regretful? Even his seemingly rational justifications didn’t seem as clear at the moment, only thinking of his fonder memories with Benrey.

‘Fuck this,’ he thought as he felt his own tears well up, ‘this isn’t about me, I need to focus on being there for Tommy,’ pushing his own feelings to the back of his mind to be dealt with later.

Tommy eventually calmed down enough where his sobs turned into sniffles, and he started to pull away from the hug.

“S – sorry for having a – a breakdown on your- on your couch Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said, the post-crying mental fog making his stuttering more noticeable. Tommy didn’t really have the effort in him to care.

“Don’t worry about it, man, after everything we’ve been through we deserve a few mental breakdowns,” Gordon joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh, that was nothing, Mr. Freeman, in terms of mental breakdowns that was as mild as a first-grade pizza party in the eye of a hurricane,” Tommy compared in a way that made little sense to Gordon, yet ridiculous enough to cause the man to burst out laughing.

“Alright I’ll take your word for it,” Gordon said, still laughing.

“I’m serious Mr. Freeman, once you have a meltdown so intense that you accidentally teleport yourself to an inter-dimensional void, the rest is a cake walk at the school fair,” Tommy said.

“Waitwaitwait- teleport?” he leaned back to look at him in surprise, “Since when could you fuckin teleport!” Gordon asked caught off guard.

“You know, learned some things from my Dad,” Tommy said, again failing to further explain himself.

“…Well alright. Yeah that tracks.”

Gordon was quiet for a moment before responding with, “You know, Tommy, I want you to know I’m here for you if you need anyone to talk to. You were there for me when I was at my lowest in Black Mesa, and I wanna be that friend to you if you need it,” he said giving the other scientists hand a comforting squeeze.

Tommy smiled, “Thank you, that means a lot Mr. Freeman.”

“You know you can call me Gordon, you don’t have to be so formal all the time Dr. Coolatta,” he teased.

Tommy blushed, ‘dammit why did he have to be so cute?’

“Wow Mr. Fr – Gordon are you really gonna make fun of my doctorate that I worked very hard for,” Tommy teased back, still a bit sniffly from crying.

“Dude, I cannot imagine you in college for some reason, what was your doctorate even in” asked Gordon, semi-jokingly, but still a bit serious.

Tommy laughed a bit, wiping the remaining tears away with the back of his hand. “Bio-chemical engineering. Creating Sunkist was for my thesis project.” Normally Tommy would be more then willing to infodump about the topic but he found his energy to be draining fast.

“What the fuck, that’s cooler than mine was. Us nerds in the Theoretical Physics department didn’t do any crazy shit like that,” Gordon said.

“Bold of you to assume I was a nerd, G-Gordon. I was the craziest guy in the frat house,” Tommy said.

Gordon’s memory vaguely recalls Tommy’s insistence that he “do something crazy” when drinking Darnold’s Potion of Grow Gun Arm.

“You know what, yeah, surprisingly I can see that image vividly in my head,” Gordon said. “Real talk though…” he said changing the subject and putting his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, “Are you- uh, ok? Like feeling better?”

Tommy was quiet for a second, eyes flickering down to look at his fidgeting hands in his lap, before replying with, “I’m ok. N-not great, I don’t think, but I will be.”

Gordon nodded. “Tommy, if there’s one nugget of wisdom that I have to share, it’s that healing takes time, things usually turn out to be ok in the end. No matter what’s going on with Benrey…it'll be alright, I’m sure.” Gordon patted his shoulder for emphasis, “not the best advice out there but it’s the best I can come up with straight off the dome. And I don’t wanna seem like I didn’t try to help you out."

Tommy laughed gently, “Thank you Mr. Fr- uh, thank you Gordon. You did help. Even if- if your advice was a bit cheesy.”

“Whatever man, you can’t blame me for trying,” Gordon laughed, playfully shoving Tommy where his hand had previously rested on the other man’s shoulder. Tommy laughed in return. He only noticed the warmth of Gordon’s touch once it was gone.

Tommy absentmindedly noticed the time on the wall clock in Gordon’s apartment. Jesus, 11:30? When did it get so late? The older scientist really hoped he wasn’t overstaying his welcome; While he would love to just stay here and joke around, he had already bothered Mr. Freeman enough and was already exhausted.

“I- I’m probably gonna head back home now, I didn’t realize how late it was,” Tommy said, standing up from his spot next to Gordon.

Gordon nodded. He had the passing thought of offering for Tommy to stay but… maybe that was a step too far. ‘Tommy probably wants his space,’ Gordon rationalized to himself.

He nodded, “Alright, don’t let me keep you,” he said, getting up as well to help Tommy gather his belongings. Which, to be honest Tommy didn’t bring much but some snacks for the group, but Gordon just needed an excuse to do anything.

Gordon walked Tommy to the front door of his apartment, like the good host he was, opening the door for him.

“Thanks for coming over Tommy,” he said.

Tommy nodded. “Thank- thank you again for letting me talk about Benrey, I know it was kinda rough there at the end, but if you ever need to talk about anything… I'm here for you as well.”

Gordon smiled, “Thank you Tommy, I'll keep that in mind.”

Tommy smiled in return, “Have a good night G-Gordon,” he said turning to head to his car.

“Goodnight Tommy.” Gordon turns to head back inside, but before he does, he can’t resist one more jab.

“Thought you could teleport?” he calls out teasingly.

Tommy flips him off, which causes Gordon to laugh harder. “Gives me a headache,” Tommy called back, trying and failing keep a straight face.

Gordon laughs as he waves a final goodbye, turning back inside and closing the door after Tommy waves as well. His thoughts race as he gets ready for bed, trying to ignore his fluttering heartbeat as he lays down for the night.

Tommy shuffles his thoughts in his head as he drives home. The emotional rollercoaster of his already draining social interaction meter from the science team, his Benrey guilt, and his small crush on Gordon was just too much for one day. His hands clench and unclench the steering wheel, looking forward to collapsing in bed for the night, hoping his dad won’t notice he'd been crying.

Somewhere, in an interdimensional void far away from this reality, someone begins to shift awake.

#fanfic #hlvrai #half life vr but the ai is self aware #freelatta

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knightofameris · 4 years

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—𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬—

◦ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ◦ 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒! ◦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠!! (𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠!)

𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠' 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: blacklist “ameris 500 celebration!” if you don’t want to see any of my posts about this celebration! also if this flops i will cry. jk i won’t but it’ll definitely take a hit on my heart u__u (and if it does flop, you didn’t see this post)

—𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍—

Ahhhh! I’m so amazed that I got to 500 followers despite the fact that I barely?? Post?? And sometimes I just talk about random shit but even then, I still appreciate all of you guys so much? I have a few options on what I have to celebrate and I am so excited heheh. But before I get started I just,,, Have a few more things I’d like to talk about (cus I like to talk LOL). Feel free to skip though!!

content continued below the cut!! (warning; introduction is long because I just have a lot of thoughts I want to share LOL. seriously, feel free to just skip)

I know that I only really started posting Haikyuu!! around my 300 mark, and I feel like the people after my 300 mark are the one’s who are active because of how much I come onto tumblr and then disappear.

If you don’t know this, I’ve actually been writing on Tumblr since 2015/2016. I’ve just changed blogs so many times that it’s like, hey, this is my new blog. Or like, I would write for a few months, disappear, come back but then everyone who followed me was dead so I was like eh I’ll just start again or whatever. And I think this makes me very very soft because out of all the communities I’ve been in, I’ve truly felt more welcome/at home even?? With everyone in Haikyuu? Like yeah there’s shit that goes down every few days or whatever but it’s always so fun to see people interact with each other and though I was hesitant at first (because before this the only writer I’ve ever interacted with was Scout for marvel oop) I’m really glad I reached out to a few of y’all and vice versa.

But despite that, Marvel will always hold a place in my heart and to everyone who followed me from my Marvel days, thank you for supporting me way back when. And even to my Narnia days (AHAHAHA). I don’t think I would’ve continued writing on tumblr without your guys’ support. I know that younger me appreciated you all for reading those old works (even if I hate my old writing now).

And to everyone now, thank you for sending in asks or commenting on my works. I actually think I would’ve disappeared by this time from this blog if you guys didn’t interact. I’m not saying I’m writing for the follows or the notes, if that makes sense. But it’s more like, I feel less of a robot that people expect to churn out works. Idk, it makes me feel like a person? And it just gives me a lot more serotnin than you might think!!

One last thing though, it’s not me saying I expect you guys to always read my work and always comment. It’s more so, I’d actually rather have you guys comment or whatever because you want to and you want to read it. Like on one hand yes it does make me feel appreciated but I also don’t want you to feel obligated or feel guilty of you don’t read my things. No matter what, I will always be writing. It definitely does feel nice tho LOL

I promise in the future, if I ever do intros they won’t be this long lol.

Phew. Anyway.

For this celebration, this is only for Haikyuu!!

—𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒—

I love love love self ships SO much. So I want to hear about your guys’ self ships!

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

this will only be open from 12am september 23 — 11:59pm september 25 PST

any requests received before or after will be deleted (may be extended depending on how many requests I get!)

do keep in mind that i’m starting classes soon so it will take me some time to get through this.

send it in through asks or submissions!

send in as many asks as you’d like

if you use an emoji to show who you are, include it on all asks :3c

nothing nsfw for this, thanks!

since this is a follower celebration,,, i do have to ask that you be following me! honestly, i won’t check if you are, thats too much work on my part but it would mean a lot if you’re following me to participate in this celebration! );

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 [example]

i will be creating two instagram posts with one of them having a comment section (3-4 screenshots)

i might also include a screenshot of your profile and/or your s/o if I can put in more pictures!

chats with your s/o ( heheh (; ) (1-2 screenshots)

chats with your s/o’s team! (1-2 screenshots) (this will possibly be with the entire team or just a select few)

take a look at the example as that’s what i’ve done for a friend of mine!!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨

send in 1-2 headcanons about you and your s/o

send in a little bit about your personality!!

your pronouns! and a name you’d like to go by!

give me your instagram handle! (not your real one, but what it would be within haikyuu) otherwise, i’ll make a random one based off your name!

what are your ~aesthetics~

what phone nickname would u have for your s/o (or any other people on the team) so it can be more personalized! or if ur like me where everyone is just their name besides a select few

do u have particular texting habits?

what’s your favorite animal? this is what I will be putting as your profile picture! alternatively if you submit all of this through my submissions and give me a piccrew, I will use that!

you could give me the most BASIC description, you don’t need to do all of these points, and i’d be fine with that. It’s up to you how much you want this to be personalized <3

(also this one’s not necessary, it’ll just be more ~fun~ but lmk if u wanna be a manager of the team! or if u have ur own little AU so u might have other certain details u want to throw in. otherwise i’m gonna make it a sorta free for all lol)

𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: hi! my name’s ameris and i ship myself with suga! my pronouns are she/her/hers and i like to think that suga and i have a sort of childhood friends to lovers trope. i also like to think that we go stargazing at least once a month no matter what! my aesthetic is definitely space heh. i’m a little bit like suga where i’m chaos and baby! i curse a lot and i have way too many interests to count but i always like trying new things! my instagram handle would be ameris_stars (dude idk lMAO) and suga’s name in my phone would be Koushi <3 i make a lot of typos and i like using a mix of emojis and emoticons/occasional kaomojis. my favorite animal is a fox or dog!

this,,, is a lot but i’m okay with that! heheh

to protect you, I won’t publish your ask! I will make separate posts titled w/ your name + s/o + emoji (if you use your emoji). If you do it off anon, I will tag you!

Request List!! If you don’t see your name on here, just submit it again :3c I will not be tagging for the sake of not spamming you guys lol.

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔—

I would love love love to get to know you! So tell me about yourself!

what’s your favorite color?

who’re your favorite haikyuu characters?

favorite haikyuu teams?

you got any writers you want to give a shout out to?

maybe a little self promo too?

adsfasdfasdflj i will keep bringing this up but like any,,, spice asks,,, about the haikyuu characters cus like,,, lol

horn knee asks will be tagged with: “ameris needs a drink” which honestly sounds like i need an alcoholic drink and at this point, yeah

please be 18+ if you do send in any spicey asks!!

This can go on for as long as y’all want really, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I’ll just answer these like normal and spread them out too lol

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄—

I have a few ask games I’ve reblogged before, so I have a few linked for you LOL

intrusive asks 👁👄👁

~space~ asks! (this has a lot more!)

zodiac asks (just about my writing!)

writer’s asks

a little game I got from my friend which I think is absolutely so much fun

this is a version of fuck-marry-kill, but send in THREE characters (this one can be from any mix of my interests!) and I’ll choose which one I’d rather have a fanfic trope with:

“enemies-to-lovers”

“childhood friends-to-lovers”

and “fake dating”

would definitely prefer haikyuu characters

but doing a mix and match from all my interests is a lotta fun

things i used to or am currently into: haikyuu, marvel, bnha, demon slayer, rwby, sailor moon, voltron, dc, overwatch, tales of vesperia, legend of zelda, bungo stray dogs, narnia (lmao), one piece, uhm, i’ll add more if i can think of more, tbh u can even just say random characters and i’ll just google them

As always though, feel free to ask me any other questions!!

this will also go on for as long as whenever, i’ll probably spread out this one!

—𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒—

AH. It was lookin a little long so here’s the link to the post :3c (will edit post later!!! when I come back from my exam!!!)

to those who got to the end, omg i’m sorry. i talk so much. but thank you for your support and just getting through this block of words hakdfhkasf

#seriously #this is long #ameris 500 celebration!

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lighthouseborna · 3 years

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𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 𝟷𝟶 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙼𝚂 & 𝚃𝙰𝙶 𝟽 𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 !

these are in no particular order because if I try to order them I will be here for Quite some time. Picking 10 was hard enough and I absolutely cheated! On we go:

The Dark Crystal - is a movie (one of three!) I came across at an incredibly tender age (it predates my accessible memory) that I then proceeded to be completely obsessed with. Every time we did movies together as a family, this would be one of the ones I would pick, so often that my parents tended to just be like “1, 2, or 3?” when it was my turn to pick. High fantasy, debatably a bit scifi (Thra is its own planet with its own solar systems) with a familiar coming-of-age, chosen-one vibe in an unfamiliar world. Has that classic 80s movie punch. The TV series they made is also very good and im pissed they canceled it after only one season.

The Neverending Story - Two of three! Low fantasy, book nerd paradise. I was obsessed with this movie. [Just this one, I didn’t even know there were sequels until like 2014 and by the way those are both......not as good. (I am being nice they suck.)] Read the book for the first time in high school, haven’t shut up about it since. Still love this movie. Prime “I would like to project for an hour and half” territory. Has some solid lessons, though they’re a bit watered down. Book hits harder, but I still love the movie so much wah

Labyrinth - Three of three! by the people who made 1 but closer in vibes to 2, plus the addition of some bitchin’ music. Coming of age, development of deeper empathy, actualization of the self. Can’t go wrong with Labyrinth. Also Brian and Wendy Froud are such wonderful visual artists which is a note that also belongs ^up there on one but I was just thinking of it here and honestly these first three may mostly be nostalgia but the craftmanship on them.... *chef’s kiss*

A Little Princess (1995) - Ok so this is like. A comfort movie, but also in a weird way because I will cry my through this one, like. I spend about a third of this movie’s run time in actual tears. Still a comfort movie. I’ve read this book to but you know some things just hit different as movies (Alfonso Cuarón just like.... he made Art here, this movie is so nice to look at) and also .... I like this ending better ok? Honorary mention for the 1993 version of The Secret Garden because my brain associates these two with each other and that is also a very good movie I comfort watch. I recently watched the Secret Garden remake but like.... eh. 1993 supremacy.

Obligatory “pick a Pirates of the Caribbean movie” slot. Yes any of them. Yes this includes 4, you guys are just mean. A-pirating we go, which, oh hey speaking of

Peter Pan (2003) - Fuck dude this movie is so good. Also very nice to look at. Pure classic. Book dialogue but make it hit harder and dual cast the father like the classic stageplay and give some of the best performances I’ve ever seen and the sets!!!! and the emotion!!!!!!!! It’s. I don’t know I’m word-ing very poorly but MAN this movie is so good I love it so much!! also hey while we’re here Hook! and I’m just keeping it on this number. Listen it’s corny and funny but also full of heart and wonderfully colorful sets and characters and god you can say a lot about Spielberg but this ... hits? It lands?? Like some people would call it campy and they’re not wrong but like.........why is that a bad thing it’s so good and the soul in it is so real??????? Love this movie.

Howl’s Moving Castle! - also fond of all of the Ghibli I have seen, also Spirited Away comes in close here, but Howl and Sophie and Calcifer and Markel and the Witch of the Wastes, man. What a found family, they’re so weird, I love them.

Stardust - is another very good movie as well as a very good book. They are different from each other and both very good and both very dear to my heart and man what? do stars?? do???

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron. Hush Ingrid.

Listen I know some of this list looks like it contradicts this but I am in fact a 90s kid and a lot of Mouse House™ productions also fall into this category. Highlights include Tarzan, the Lion King 1 & 2, Treasure Planet. The Narnia Movies produced in the mid-late 2000s. Saving Mr. Banks is far more recent and also a movie I cry my way through, and yet somehow? still on this list of comfort movies?? I want a tattoo from this movie. They weren’t Mouse House™ at the time but they are now so also the Star Wars prequel trilogy can go here. Yes prequel trilogy, I said what I said!! Phantom Menace is so good you guys just like bandwagons.

tagged by: @wasscared after a fashion

tagging: nobody? felt more like ingrid asking me for recs so I’m gonna style it like that, but feel free to yoink this! I love seeing about what genres people love it doesn’t always match what you’d expect. I feel like my list was visible like 100 miles off but most of the ones I see from other people offer me at least one two surprises! also i just like movies tell me about ur fav movies >:3

#☩ i’ll rewrite the whole movie dont test me ( OOC. )#☩ chicken on a raft ( DASH GAME. )

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frightgothcar · 5 years

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HEY! Hey, you, reading this!!! I fuckin love writing but what I need to be able to write is a little thing called approval!! If you like this please comment and/or reblog!!!!!!!!!!

Area 51 au thingy. Danny/Wes. Songfic? Not really but the whole idea came from this song. V is based off of @its-towarzysz (main)/ @we-all-horny-here (sanders sides sideblog)/ @cockworktower (dp side blog) you should check them out, they make hella good content. Thanks to all my friends who helped me with motivation/proofreading. Tw for Death, Blood, Guns, and Violence. (Tell me if I forgot anything). I love this pairing and the lack of content sparks deep anger in my soul!! :)) Thanks for reading, enjoy!!

EDIT: Posting this on ao3 also @/godcannotdefeatfanfic

September 20th, 10:30 am

Area 51

Wes Weston had nothing to live for. Ever since his Mom had gone out for cigarettes on his 6th birthday and never come back his life had been a constant downward spiral. Maybe that was why he was in the middle of the Nevada desert, preparing to attempt to rush a highly armed government facility with a million other suicidal Millenials.

He fanned his face with his hand. It was over 86 degrees and he was practically melting in his Casper High spirit T-Shirt and blue jeans. He contemplated getting into his pickup truck and blasting the a/c but considering he only had a quarter tank of gas left, and it was a good 20 miles to the nearest gas station, he decided against it. Instead, he got onto his phone and texted his friends for the third time that morning.

Basketball-Boi: where r yall? its hot.

Phurry: we’re just driving in!! Do u see us?

Basketball-Boi: uhhh whats ur car look like

Phurry: the silver one

Basketball: V there are like a million silver ones what kind of car

Phurry: uhh Val says its called a subaru we’re right by a black car

Red_Huntress: They’re standing on the roof and waving. Can you see us now?

Wes looked up from his phone to see a person, about his age, standing on the roof of a silver Subaru, wearing a black band t-shirt and neon green booty shorts. Their long blond ponytail swished around their face as they jumped up and down excitedly. A girl stepped out of the car and began scolding her friend. She was wearing a matching red pair of shorts, there was black lettering on her backside that he couldn’t quite make out. He began waving back, which only excited the blond more. They lept over the brown-skinned girl and bolted towards Wes.

“Ready to fuck some aliens, Basketball-Boi?” They pulled him into a tight embrace.

“I was born ready!” He laughed, “How are you, V?”

“Pretty gay, thanks for asking.”

Wes opened his mouth to speak but V cut him off with an excited shout.

“Oh! That reminds me!” They slipped their arms out of their backpack straps and dug through the mint green bag for a minute before pulling a pair of hot pink shorts, “I wanted us all to match! Made ‘em myself!”

They flipped the shorts around to reveal ‘100% Nasty’ embroidered onto the ass in black. They then turned around to show off their own message, that read ‘Trash Man’.

“I made one for Val too, c’mon, we have to wear them!!”

Wes grabbed the shorts and held them to his hips. “Is this what you needed my measurements for?”

They nodded enthusiastically, “I was gonna make us team jackets, but that’s so cliche.”

“Huh, I mean, don’t get me wrong, these are… great, but are you sure pink is my color?”

V rolled their eyes, “Of course I’m sure, Wes! Just put them on, you’ll see.”

Wes sighed and walked behind his red truck for some privacy, not that there was much of that, the field was crowded with cars. He pulled down his blue jeans, thankful for the breeze on his legs, and pulled on the shorts. They were a perfect fit, clinging to his waist, and resting on his barely existent hips. The feeling of showing so much skin was odd to him, he’d never worn anything that short in public, but the look on V’s face made it all worth it to him. They didn’t laugh like he’d been expecting them to, instead clapping their hands and going on about how relieved they were that the shorts actually fit. He did a quick turn for them, and they nodded in satisfaction.

“I think it’s about time we caught up to Val, did y’all remember to bring soda?”

“Only the finest Mountain Dew the 7/11 could provide, M’lady,” V grinned.

“Than shall we be going, M’lord?” Wes held out his arm.

“Indubitably.” V linked their arm through his and they wandered through the crowd, searching for Valerie’s silver Subaru.

“Wes! V! Over here!” Val called, waving the hand that wasn’t holding a Mountain Dew at her friends. The two of them waved back and jogged toward her.

“Hey Val, long time no see,” Wes grinned as he pulled her into a hug.

“I missed ya, Weston,” Val reached up to ruffle his hair, but Wes dodged, pulling her into a headlock instead.

“Missed ya too, Grey,” He gave her a noogie and released her, leaving her free to jump onto him and boost herself high enough to get revenge.

“Aww, adorable! Old lovebirds rekindling an old flame?” V fluttered their eyelashes at their friends, who immediately recoiled.

“Ew, no! Wes? If I had to pick a guy, maybe. And that’s a hard maybe. I’m too gay for this.” Valerie picked up her can from the hood of her car and took a swig.

“Yeah! She’s like my little sister!”

“Hey, I’m older than you!”

“By like two weeks!”

V broke into laughter, “Cool it lovebirds, I’m only joking.”

Val and Wes rolled their eyes at V, who was now on the ground, rolling with laughter.

“Permission to pour some soda out onto our hilarious friend’s head?” Val asked teasingly.

“Permission granted! Fire at will!” Wes saluted. Val tipped her can enough to sprinkle V with the sticky green drink. They got to their feet, still laughing, and lunged for Val’s can. They knocked it backward, spilling soda all over Val’s shirt.

“EEK,” She squealed, “You’ll pay for this, Trash Man, If it’s the last thing I do!”

She tried to push the can towards V, but they still had a grip on her arm. They tugged the can back and forth for a few seconds before it crumpled under the pressure.

“Shit!” Val swore, letting go of the can and cradling her palm. “I think I cut myself.”

V dropped the can, game of tag forgotten, and crowded next to their friend. Wes joined their huddle.

“I think I have a first aid kit in my truck. How bad is it?” He asked.

Val opened her hand to reveal a small, but deep wound on the side of her palm.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, if I hadn’t-” V began.

“Naw, it was as much my fault as yours. Anyway, we were having fun, and it’s really just a scratch. Keep focused on those Aliens, Private!” Val reassured them.

“Aye aye, Captain!”

Wes walked back to his truck, ignoring the stares of passerby. He grabbed his first aid kid (thank god for boy scouts) and walked back to Val’s car.

“So,” Wes ripped open a disinfecting wipe with his teeth and got to work cleaning her hand of blood. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s doing-” She drew in a sharp breath as he dabbed along the wound with a clean wipe. “Fine. The new job’s working out great, he’s happier than I’ve seen him in a while.”

Wes nodded and began wrapping her hand in gauze, “I’m glad. He wasn’t himself when you left.”

“It really all did work out for the better, didn’t it,” V smiled and handed Wes a length of medical tape. “Oh! I forgot! Val, show Wes what your ass says!”

She groaned, “Do I have to?”

V scowled, “Of course you have to, it was your idea!”

“I was just joking!”

“Tsk tsk, I think you’ve known me long enough to know that when it comes to cursed content, there are no jokes.”

“C’mon Val, it can’t be worse than ‘100% Nasty’,” Wes smirked.

V gasped dramatically and feigned offense, “You’ve wounded me! I work so hard, and for what, ungrateful friends?”

“Fine, if it’ll make you happy I’ll show him my ass. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She winked at him before turning to show her backside. Black embroidery spelled out ‘Booty Hunter’.

Wes burst out laughing, which quickly turned to hysteric noises only vaguely resembling laughter, squeals, and snorts with shrieking giggles between them. V and Val couldn’t help but join in. The second one of them stopped laughing someone would whisper Booty Hunter and it’d start all over again.

“Okay, okay,” Wes gulped in air, “We- hic -should calm down now.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Val wiped a tear from her eye, “I am the Queen of Calm.”

V got to their feet and dusted themself off. “Totally calm. Calmer than a… something calm.”

“When does the raid start?” Wes pulled out his phone and checked the time. 12:00.

“Around, 12:30ish, we have time.” V waved their hand.

“I dunno, it’s already 12, maybe we should start getting ready.”

“What do you mean it’s already-” V snatched the phone from his hand, “Huh. Time sure flies when you’re having fun.”

“Wait, get ready for what exactly? I mean, we’re here, we’ve got our shorts on, there’s enough Mountain Dew in my car to drown an elephant, what else is there to get ready?” Val questioned.

“Uhhh, I dunno, stretch?” Wes shrugged, “It just feels like we’re forgetting something. What exactly is the plan for this whole thing anyway? Are there gonna be waves? Do we all go at once? This is a pretty poorly organized event.”

Val shrugged, clearly unphased by the lack of organization, “We’ll just go when everyone else starts running. I’m sure the start of gunfire will tell us when.”

“Look, if it’s making you so worried, we can stretch before. I’m sure everything will be fine. Plus, we all get alien Girlfriends, so it’s a win-win!” V put their hand on his arm. Wes smiled thankfully down at them.

“Yeah, that’s probably it. Yall must think I’m being a nitpick-”

“Not at all! You’re probably right, after all, it must be at least a mile to the base from here, and we can’t let cramps keep us from sweet sweet alien romance.” Val propped her leg up on the hood of her car and pressed her head to her knee, “Plus that’ll give us an advantage over the Kyles.”

V nodded and fell into a lunge, “We’ve been training since July for this, can’t let it get away now because we forgot to stretch.”

Wes bent over and touched his toes, “Thanks y’all, you’re really the best friends I could ask for.”

The screech of a megaphone rang out through the valley. A voice came through the static, “Raiders! Get into position, we’re storming the gates in exactly fifteen minutes!”

A cheer broke through the crowd as people began chugging what was left of their sodas and migrating towards the front lines.

“Well, this is it I guess. If I don’t make it out of the raid, put this on my tombstone.” Wes gestured downward, where he was holding his hand in a circle.

“Dammit!” Valerie chuckled as Wes gave her a playful punch in the arm.

“You’ll never take me alive!” V shouted and sprinted forwards as Wes moved towards them.

“On your marks!”

“Wanna bet on that?” Wes shouted back, weaving through the crowd to catch up with them.

“Get set!”

V pushed forward, using their small frame to their advantage, easily losing the taller one in the crowd.

“Raid!”

The mob roared, then began thundering forward, but the deafening sounds of the people were nothing compared to what followed. Thousands of guns began firing at once, hitting everyone and everything in the vicinity. Wes watched with horror as the first wave of people were mowed down right before his eyes. A flash of neon green caught his eye through the carnage. He ran towards his friend, who was standing, paralyzed, next to a few other survivors. He shouted their name, and just as they turned their head another hailstorm of bullets rained down. The first one embedded itself right into V’s chest, right above their heart. Wes sprinted to catch his injured companion, but by the time he got there the life was already draining from their eyes.

“V! V, can you hear me? Don’t go into the light, hold on, ok? You’ve got this, V, answer me!”

He pressed his head to their chest, a weak heartbeat answered him. “It’s gonna be okay. Shhh, you’re okay.”

Something wet dripped down his face, and he realized he was crying.

“...Wes,” V rasped out, then began violently coughing up blood. Little flecks of red peppered Wes’ face like freckles. “Fuck an alien for me, okay? Can you promise me that?”

Their body went limp in his arms.

“V? V! V, wake up, please, that can’t be it, please V, you’re only 17, please!” He shook their corpse, but to no avail. V was gone. He closed his eyes and let out a shuttering breath before standing up, still clutching their body in his arms.

“Second wave! On your marks!” The megaphone blared to life.

The crowd let out another, less confident cheer. After seeing all the carnage most of the raiders were less enthusiastic to ‘see them aliens’. But this time Wes had made up his mind. He was going to make it into that Government facility, and he was gonna burn that motherfucker to the ground.

“Get set!”

He laid his friend on the ground and pressed a kiss to their forehead. If it wasn’t for the massive amount of blood they could’ve been sleeping.

“Go!”

Wes screamed with all the anger he had in him and charged forward. Bullets rained down near him, but this time there were less of them. This time he had a chance. He saw the gate coming closer. He was only 50 feet away, he could make it! He hopped over the fence, ignoring the blaring of sirens, and kept running. He pushed his way into the building, where, surprisingly, there was no security. It looked like they had invested all their soldiers into protecting the outside of the base. His adrenaline rush began to slow down. He dragged his feet down the linoleum hallway, looking at his bloodsoaked hands.

“What the fuck just happened?” He whispered to himself, still shellshocked. A flicker of light caught his eye. Grateful for a distraction, he turned his attention to what looked like a futuristic control panel. The buttons were labeled in some sort of code, their luminescent surfaces grinning up at him.

“Looking for me, Short-Shorts?” A calm voice echoed through the hall. Wes whipped around, ready for a fight.

“Why so on edge, Ginger? Surely I’m not that intimidating.” It purred.

“Who are you?!” Wes shouted. He winced at the echo. Did he really sound that unhinged?

“On your left.”

He turned and found himself face to face with the most beautiful boy he’d ever seen. He looked about his age, maybe 17. His skin was tan, but had a slight blueish tint, as if he’d been without oxygen for a while. Poking from his tuft of pearly white hair was a pair of blur antenna. He had a small build, maybe 5 feet tall at best, but was floating at eye level with Wes. Speaking of his eyes, they were quite possibly the most gorgeous thing about him. He had eyes greener and glowyer (is that even a word? Either way it was true.) than toxic waste, his pupils were like a cat’s, slit down the middle. He was clothed in a baggy black prison jumpsuit. He looked almost alien. Wes realized with a start that he must be an alien.

“Are you done staring?” The boy asked, snapping Wes out of his trance. “It won’t be long before the guards realize you’re in here, and I’d rather get out without a bullet hole.”

“I- I don’t- what are you?” Wes stammered.

“I’m Project Phantom, or Danny if you prefer. What’s your name?”

“I’m… Wes?”

#danny phantom #danny phantom fic #fanfiction #my writing #wes weston #danny phantom au #area 51 au #unidentified flying ship #wes x danny #danny x wes #wes/danny #danny/wes #i dont know what else to tag this #Gayrea 51

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