#deserve to be humbled in such a way. i dont know if its because being so stuck up made me rude or mean or bad or maybe its just the fault o

[shoresalt]

long post about school

i cant help but take academic advice and suggestions and marks so personally as if they reflect who i am morally and my personality. even the simplest mistake of formatting a citation incorrectly ((when citations weren't even necessary i just wanted to provide a source... ) makes me think i am unfixable. and then i see 80s on my report cards and freak out inside. but if anyone else told me they got that mark i would be happy for them. i dont view even lower marks as a representation of my friends? so why do i assume others are having those thoughts about me? is it because i dont know my teachers very personally? and they're more prone to making assumptions about me? (are they even, really??) i feel offended when i see that i'm not at the top of my class. because it makes me look lazy compared to past grades, even if my teachers and classmates didn't even know me then. i'm afraid they'll see me failing and be mad or rude or think i'm no good. grades never affect the way i perceive others. why isnt it the same when i flip it to myself???

i need to find a way to understand that that advice will result in me learning! it does! i have demonstrated this! i can learn from my mistakes!!! i already understand it, logically, but it still pains me anyways. maybe its the permanence of grades. the way they dont change even when i learn something correctly or fix a mistake.

[shapeofallcosmos]

time to get stupid about the king again

seeing this guy on my friend's brother's ps2 right before i moved out of my hometown at age 9 was insane, like it caused such a delayed reaction that took ten years to finally kick in. i'm desensitized now, but this changed 9 year old me in a way that i can only articulate now or something. not my favorite design, but its so classic. so original. so tastefully off putting to normal people. so...katamari. In my humble opinion, his tight clothing exudes subtle yet awesome confidance. no fear, nothing to hide, he wants all of it shown off. it's really cool. And his HEAD. I want a pillow with that pattern. Purple is by far my favorite color (and i think it's his too?) and its so soothing to look at. staring at him on my tv with my already fuzzy eyesight makes it downright hypnotic.

He's stupid, your honor. EDIT:Forgot to mention they took away his chest hair. Let the man be hairy. ok ok, on to we love. (reroll version)

oh yeah baby. oh YEAH. this is the stuff of dreams. so casual. so laid back. so lovely. he's comfy. at least physically. that stupid throne we only see again in touch my katamari. what's that lever for? sorry. tangent. the blue. the flowiness of it. his neck ruff not being sharp but instead soft and gentle. A more gentle King. I love it a lot. I actually bought some pants i saw in a thrift store because it reminded me of this king. It's such a good design. oh my god i love this king. He just looks so gentle. Like he's 20% more father now. Not "king", but "father. I don't know how to describe it. I want this fit so bad. The head is also soothing to look at too! Very nice, yet again a lot more gentle feeling, especially on the eyes. I'm probably just biased because this was the first game i started with. oh well. great design 10/10 i just wish they'd slow down on using it so much in other games (reused in forever as a model, and in touch as a model. im VERY pissed about how it was used in touch.)

ew

this was funny though. though it's kind of terrifying having him smiling when he's that close to you and when you're that small. please dont eat me.

i deeply enjoy when they are shown happy together. this design kind of smells. i actually think it's worse than touch.

I. LOVE. THIS. FIT. It's SO stupid. the stupidest fit he'll ever have. I just need to see how he even walks in it.

as i have said before, this design looks very much like my bed i used to sleep in at my grandma's house. I wanna lay on him and fall asleep. Looks so comfy. i also generally love beautiful katamari and i love how he's written as sort of like a father-friend, at least in how he talks. It reminds me of how my mom talks to me. I know, that's bias, but whatever. Beautiful King is a good dad friend to me. I love him.

man. man why'd they ruin you. i weep for this design. it's over the top in a way i dont really think fits him but it's still super pretty. I'm so mad they wrote him like that in forver. sometimes its funny but most of the time its just upsetting. he's mean yeah, but not THAT mean. (Some dialogue from RoboKing implies that when the King is off doing his own thing and that thing doesn't wind up going how he wanted it to, he'd come back and take his anger out on Robo. We never see it and again, it's just text and Robo could be lying for pity points but JESUS CHRIST. It upsets me so much! How could they do that to King?!

why. why would they do this. I cant enjoy Forever's design when it's attached to that kind of writing. all i can think of is how much of a jerk he is. i hate it. it's so pretty. im mad. on to touch...

I hate you and everything you stand for. And I am also sorry for what they did to you. You didn't deserve this. Or maybe you did.

[despazito]

wish script doctor bc i feel like this movie could've been a lot stronger with some things altered. like i dont even think it needs a complete story overhaul, a handful of changes could make it much tighter imo

asha does not live so close to central rosas, but a village on the outskirts of the kingdom, and this will be her first time venturing to see the mythical king in person.

not all wishes are equal in this magic system. selfish and shallow wishes do not contain much power, but noble and selfless wishes are very strong. (also i don't see the point of forgetting your wish you made?)

the grandad was animated way too in shape for 100 years old, make him weaker and frail. hell, put him on his death bed to raise the stakes.

perhaps have asha's grandfather be an esteemed but very humble scholar or medicine healer whose dying wish is to establish a library or hospital for the local people (or something). asha believes that if she meets with king magnifico herself, she can convince him to grant her grandfathers' wish. she believes she can do this because an old childhood friend of hers now works in the castle as his aid.

asha travels to rosas and meets her friend dahlia. expecting her to be very close to the king, dahlia sheepishly admits to being a much lower ranked servant who hardly ever sees the king in person, but still sneaks asha in to show her around the castle because she's such a fan of magnifico + introduce asha to all her friends/coworkers.

have dahlia be the only primary friend, relegate the rest of the lot to the background. we don't need much time with them all, use it to strengthen other relationships.

asha attends a wish granting ceremony and magnifico does not grant grandad's wish. after the event asha uses a sneaky corridor that she just learnt to ambush magnifico and plead her case to him. away from the crowd he goes mask off and tells her to fuck off, asha narrowly escapes his guards.

defeated, she sings her I Wish song and we meet the star.

instead of the short guy, have valentino play the grouchy foil. valentino hates the star, and they have slapstick together. hell if disney wants to be meta, have him resent the star for turning him into a funny talking animal or something.

dahlia is the only one who believes asha when she tells her about meeting the wishing star. the other friends think she's some kind of lunatic from out of town until they see the star for themselves.

have queen amaya be equally self absorbed as king magnifico and together act as an evil couple like in the concept art. she enjoys the luxury of being a self-made monarch and throws lavish balls and pampers her shitty cats or something. make them evil and campy together like mink stole and david lochary in a john waters film (we've had a villain based on divine, now its their turn)

alternatively, amaya can still have a redemption, but later on in the third act. perhaps she's vain and perfectly content with a certain level of fraud until magnifico crosses a line. have magnifico explain to her long ago that he gets strength from the wishes, but he only culls the shitty wishes bad people make. amaya thinks its reasonable that he crushes the wishes of bad people and people who "deserve" it. but selfish wishes aren't as powerful, and as magnifico begins to crave more and more power, he begins taking more innocent wishes to power himself. maybe he finally crushes the wish of some sick kid or asha's grandfather and that finally snaps amaya into realizing what they're doing has become completely irredeemable. i know disney is allergic to writing romance now so have asha stay single and instead take some time to explore this romantic relationship.

asha & co. defeat magnifico with the power of friendship or whatever, maybe even have the final final part of the battle be between magnifico vs amaya as asha rushes to care for her grandfather after his wish was just crushed. or magnifico goes full magical sorcerer and explodes asha's family home or something

everyone in rosas realizes they don't need magnifico to live their dreams and together (with some pitching in from a now queen-regent amaya) asha is able to build the library/school/hospital/insert public service building her grandad always wanted. amaya hangs the magnifico mirror above her cats' litter boxes. the end

[neonscandal]

Hi, Neon, just found your older ask here https://www.tumblr.com/neonscandal/700397520113876992/hiif-you-dont-mind-can-i-ask-something-from?source=share

Now, after 2 years, do you want to add something for the answer? Have you know it yet about the news? I'm still sad when I read that BNHA will be over in the next 5 chapters. Whatever happen, I'm grateful and will always love BKDK !!

Also, do you mind if I ask the same ask (same format : strength, weakness & dynamic) as that person above for Satosugu, Matchblosoom and Asheiji?

I have been sitting on this, and a few other asks since I've been slammed at work while still trying to make art on the side so I appreciate you hanging in there. 💖 At this point, the end of MHA has come and gone but my love lives on.

I will always find fantasy AU gifs appropriate.

⚠️ Spoiler warning through end of MHA manga.

TBH I find a lot of what I wrote to still be spot on, likely by design since I was trying to avoid spoilers at the time so I was indirectly speaking to observations we've now seen play out in the show. The notable difference simply being that the end of MHA brought a bit more exposition into the fact that, more than being number 1, Bakugo's one track mind was solely focused on Izuku.

Without Izuku, his ranking didn't matter. So he fought tooth and nail to get his childhood friend, his rival, his inspiration back into the game. Because they were both always worth saving, they were always making one another better.

Can I first and foremost just point out that Joe is voiced by Jonah Scott and thus deserving of a little romanticization in general?

⚠️ Spoiler warning through SK8 the Infinity S1.

PERSONALITY

Kojiro Strengths

Shockingly to say, Jo is humble. He might go around preening for the crowd but, as a founding member of S, he has the ability to meet Reki where he is when he is resentful of his own lack of growth because he's been there. Maybe that's more to say that he has a bit more emotional intelligence than he gets credit for, either way, there is more than meets the eye.

Jo is sentimental. He might joke about his restaurant not being a daycare or even banter bitterly with Kaoru but he is demonstrably still a safe space for up and coming skaters and a pillar for his high school friend even if we see he felt a bit left behind when he was younger.

Kojiro Weaknesses

I just find it interesting that he's very honest but only when Kaoru is unconscious. Like, he immediately carries Kaoru away after his big injury and really only alludes to valuing their friendship when Kaoru is knocked out beside him. From what we know of their lore, when Kaoru was looking to Adam, Jo was looking to Kaoru and I wonder how much Kaoru realizes that. Or how much Carla really probably bothers Jo as another thing that replaced him.

Kaoru Strengths

We know expeditiously who the brains behind the operation are. Kaoru is really intelligent, both in terms of picking apart Adam's battle strategy with the Love Hug and in programming Carla. Let us all be glad he went into calligraphy and not straight villainy because he'd be unstoppable I fear. There'd be nothing he couldn't mansplain, manipulate or malewife his way out of.

CHERRY IS SO GENDER. That's all.

Kaoru Weaknesses

He's stuck in the past with his vendetta against Adam. That's not to say that Jo isn't locked in a similar gear but Kaoru's motivation seems more personal and I suppose that informs a lot of fanon lore (and why Cherry will never beat the allegations). Kaoru already stands at the top of the pile of S skaters but he still has something to prove and it eventually costs him.

DYNAMIC

This is a really short series to extrapolate a ton from, to be honest, especially with its lack of a source material. I'm really looking forward to season 2 which will explore more of their lore specifically but any time there's an overture of disparaging banter with an undeniable foundation of affection?? I'm gonna love it. In short:

They keep each other honest - what happens on S, stays on S and, while Kaoru is hell bent on keeping his lives separate (professional vs skater delinquent), it's important to have people in your life who know the real you. All of you.

They maintain a shared goal - ultimately, friends are mirrors and the importance of that is touched on in the above. While part of their mission is to beat Adam, I think another element of that is to bring him back into the fold. Because when a homie starts acting weird, you gotta set him straight.

My sweet babies.

⚠️ Spoiler warning for Banana Fish series.

PERSONALITY

Ash Strengths

Despite every turn of his life showing him the evil of human nature, Ash still tries to do right by others. He protects the kids in his gang the only way he knows how. That's not to say he was always a good example because he had to do things that were not always on the up and up but he cared deeply about the people in his life and became the "monster" that could protect them, relentlessly.

Resilient almost to a fault, Ash's suffering is frequently short lived, knowing that he doesn't have the time to wallow. Not if it will be a detriment to his cause, not if it puts Eiji at risk, etc. He compartmentalizes his trauma and grief to prioritize the comfort and safety of others because so many people look to him for guidance. He is incredibly driven despite his age and life's challenges. This can be a strength and a weakness

Ash is brilliant. Strategically, skills wise, intellectually, he is brilliant and quick-witted, at that. Had his circumstances been different, who knows who he could have been in the scheme of things.

Ash Weaknesses

He's hardwired for martyrdom. Life taught him what people value about him and he sneers as he uses it to best them. While I love to see him able to turn the tables on so many of his abusers, it still belies that his confidence is more of a shield than anything else. When you're abused, especially continuously, you espouse feelings of guilt, shame and worthlessness. Regardless of one's resilience, you don't walk away unscathed. Regardless of one's intelligence, you still can't separate yourself from thoughts that suggest you're the reason for your abuse. Ash constantly walks into the line of fire, throws himself to the wolves, offers his life in exchange for others, leverages his experience and humiliation to shield the suffering of others'. In the end, despite what he found in Eiji, his decision to be the leopard, as it were, came from the fact that he thought that should be his fate. He did not think he deserved the softness of what Eiji offered. I disagree.

Despite making quick work of many challenges following the trail of banana fish, Ash can be hotheaded. He's emotional at times which is understandable but the worst instance of it was his overcorrection when Sing's men shoot Eiji as the fall out inextricably creates the situation that costs him his life.

Eiji Okumura. In many ways, Eiji is Ash's greatest weakness, often willing to walk back into hell if it meant an even exchange of Eiji's safety or life. But when it feels like you finally find a reason to live beyond just survival, is it not worth protecting?

Eiji Strengths

Despite the obvious culture shock, Eiji is unflappable, regardless of what he was running away from back home. From his pole vaulted escape where it all begins, to telling Ash to return to him safely, Eiji was just there for Ash and, more importantly, expected nothing in return. Both of these capture Ash's attention and quickly establishes a reciprocal relationship of respect and sympathy.

Eiji is as trustworthy as he is trusting.That's not to say he 100% has the best judge of who is deserving of his trust but his earnest nature endears him to others quickly. To the point where Shorter still does everything in his power to protect Eiji up until the point he can't. One could argue that should be chalked up to Shorter's friendship with Ash but there was a tenderness and concern to Shorter's protection that was specific to Eiji.

One thing about Eiji, he's gonna have audacity. He does not fear Ash despite the things Ash has had to do in the span of knowing him. He treats Ash as a person deserving of concern, deserving of kindness and deserving of attitude when the situation calls for it. In many ways, Ash is surrounded by people who care for him but Eiji sees him beyond his reputation and what he can do for him and it sets him apart. Even when Ash experiences things outside of what he can comprehend, when others treat Ash like a ticking time bomb to be regarded at arms length, Eiji is able to close the gap to comfort him.

Eiji Weaknesses

Despite that one year difference, Eiji is naive to the ways of the world. While it is presented initially like a cultural divide, fundamentally Eiji's upbringing, while not a walk in the park, is also so starkly different from Ash, Shorter's and other characters. A sickly father, perhaps distant mother, but he had promise and opportunities. Back home, he wasn't just surviving. This doesn't undermine the ego death of losing everything when he got injured and having to start from scratch. In truth, I don't think anything could have prepared him for the journey down the rabbit hole but he dove down it just the same. Perhaps because there were no alarms blaring about how it could cost him his life even after Skip's initial death.

DYNAMIC

Contrary to the above, I think Ash and Eiji don't always fall into the same dynamic in every part of the story. They fight for one another, sacrifice for one another, and provide protection (as best they can and in whatever way they can) for one another. Despite everything that should separate them and the one in a million chance of meeting one another, they did. While it meant both of their ruin in different ways it also irreparably altered both of their lives as they made indelible impressions upon one another.

I will never get over these two and, I suppose, neither will the rest of JJK since they're the reason for everything that goes awry.

⚠️ Spoiler warning through end of JJK manga. 😭

PERSONALITY

Will there ever come a time when I tire of writing about Satoru Gojo or Suguru Geto? No, I think not. I saved them for last because I felt like I'd probably have the most to write here but once I started thinking about it.. every single one of their strengths in turn becomes their weakness and leads to their undoing.

Gojo Strengths and Weaknesses

Gojo is strength. Tipping the scales with your birth had to make the list somewhere. He was an infallible weapon wielded by the higher ups until he became too unruly... but what could they do? He was the closest thing they had to otherworldly power. In many ways, without him, sorcerers didn't stand a chance. They conflated him with a god and it went to his head. It allowed him the hubris to gamble on a mission he knew could change the world.

Gojo's status makes him untouchable. In a society that prioritizes strength, Gojo was unmatched. Limitless is such an apropo technique for someone so far removed from others... or is he far removed from others because of his Limitless? Either way, by the time he meets Geto, he'd already been a weapon, been an anomaly for so long. He was raised without an equal, he is not unused to being the strongest and the responsibility that that entails. He's intelligent, pragmatic, and extremely capable. However, finding an equal in Geto made him greedy. Confident. A dangerous combination but, had he not always known such impregnable loneliness, perhaps things wouldn't have gone as far as they did. Regardless of the imperfect comparison (since being a Special Grade has a massive disparity in strength) these extremes created such a desperate need to never know isolation again. He was alone before Geto and suffered the weight of the world after Geto. It created an unprecedented sense of sentimentality, it drove him not to burn Geto's body. Even finding stronger students, people who could stand shoulder to shoulder with him, would one day surpass him... and he still couldn't really let them in.

It takes time and experience but, eventually, he has an adaptable worldview not defined by imposed obligation. This is informed by trauma but it becomes the catalyst for how he lives the rest of his life which is marked with the lofty benevolence of someone who doesn't have to interfere in the trivialities between sorcerers and curses/curse users but does if only to prevent others from experiencing similarly devastating loss or alienation. What he does after Geto defects does nothing to redeem Geto or salvage their relationship but, from that point, Gojo appreciates and protects the privilege of being young in the only way he knows how, by forging them to be strong in turn. It's not exactly a moral compass, one could argue it perpetuates a system that still exploits children but the response, as we've seen with the series end, sorcerers don't have the privilege of choice.

Gojo is out of touch with those around him. He can plot causation, infer complex logic, rehash history, etc. but it does nothing for the broken boy said to be his best friend. While he becomes aware of this weakness and tries to address it with Yuji (by having Nanami take over), it's too late. The damage had already been done.

Geto Strength and Weaknesses

Geto is no stranger to grueling and hard work. As an outsider to Jujutsu Tech, imagine coming into the fold, the only sorcerer of your family with a grossly unpalatable technique. Assessed to be the strongest after being plucked from relative obscurity and you stand at the top of the mountain with someone who won the genetic lottery with all the audacity to boot. We don't have much insight into Geto's whole back story but we see enough of Yuji's immersion into the jujutsu world to know that it isn't easy. But Geto made quick work of becoming an adept sorcerer, one who could keep up with the likes of Satoru Gojo even. Even as the strongest, he still must have had a bit of a bitter taste as he came to learn more of the world.

Geto is humble. Such that he earns respect and admiration from Nanami and Haibara respectively. His technique, almost an ill fit for someone who sought to be so pure, so noble, is unpleasant but it bestows such great power upon him. I imagine he had to rationalize it somehow. The sacrificial means to a suitable end in his mind. He is polite (but can absolutely be a little shit) and tries not to let being the strongest get to his head, frequently chastising Gojo for his behavior. But this practice of being humble in the face of such obvious power eventually creates a situation where he feels he is owed.

Geto has an inalienable sense of responsibility. It lends itself to his humility and keeps his moral compass pointed due north. Moreover, its what informs Gojo's reliance on his judgement. His worldview is simple, human even. Those who are strong are meant to protect. I think it further gives meaning to his discomfort every time he uses his technique. As if to say "in order to protect, I must suffer. Because I have great strength, I must be prepared to sacrifice,". This A + B = C mentality only works in a simple world without variables. But the world is unfair, curses are unpredictable and, sometimes, humans can be monsters. So when his worldview changes, it fractures something deep within him because of his simple but unyielding principles and inability to accept the world for what it is: a sea of gray.

DYNAMIC

They diametrically complement one another by design. In many ways, they differ to an extreme that begs the question of how they ever found any middle ground. But they did. And there was love. Or affection should you prefer. But it didn't make a lick of difference.

[chososcamgirl]

Sept. 29 daily check in for iya.. make sure to post + FINISH THIS WHEN SHE RESPONDS TO YESTERDAYS DAILY CHECKIN

Warning.. ⚠️ I YAPPED SO HARD IN THIS ONE DONT BE AFRAID TO NOT ANSWER EVERYTHING CUS IK I YAP A LOT‼️‼️😭☹️ + I kinda wrote this the night before becauseee I’m really busy today so if some things are in future tense that’s why…

HEYHEYHEY SIGMA ALPHA IYA I HOPE UR FEELING REALLLYYYYY SKIBIDI CUS U DESERVE IT AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER😫😫 IM ABOUT TO FLY OVER TO GIVE YOU THE BIGGEST KISS EVER ILYSMMMM AUFNENENDND I DIDNT EVEN KNOW YOU DIDNT CAMEOS BUT ME MAKING AN APPEARANCE REALLY SHOOOOOKKKKKKK ME TO MY CORREEEEE UGHHH CAME 5 TIMES JUST READING THAT TWEETTTTT 😫🤰🤰

OKOKOK THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS CHAPTER SINCE MY FUCKKKK IT WAS SO GOOD I AM LITERALLY SO STUFFED (in both ways 😫 toge PLEASEEE)

YUTAMAKI SNEAKKK ANDNENNENENEJSOXKWNEN I LOVE THEM THEYRE MY SKIBIDI TOILET 🐺‼️ NOT YUTA BEING FUCKING HEADDDDD OVER HEELS FOR MAKI (me too lowk..) POSTING HER ON INSTA UGHHH ME AND WHO😭😭😭🙍‍♀️🙍‍♀️🙍‍♀️ (toge PLEASEEE) LIKE LITERALLY BECOME OFFICAL ALREADY I SWEARRRR 😡😡 I LOVE THEM RHEYRE SOOO SKIBIDI 💗☹️

UGHH I WANT WTV THE FUCK MEGUMI AND YN HAVE CUS GODDDDD JUST FUCK ALREADY EVERYONE CAN SEE THRU IT (just kidding YN STAY UPP DO NOT SIT DOWN STOP THINKING WITH UR PUSSY THINK OF YOUR PRIDEEEE (saying this even tho I’m proudly exclaiming that I would like to gain stds from inumaki BUTTTT IN MY DEFENSE THATS DIFFERENT 😭‼️‼️)

Brainrot references oh my GYATT me and toge are made for each other likeeeeee 😍😍 please slide into my dms and TALK TUAH ME‼️😫

ok seriously yn stand UPPP UGHHH CUS WHY WOULD YOU BE THAT SERIOUS FOR A MAN💔💔 WHY WOULD YOU GO OUT OF YOUR WAY TO GO AGAINST YOUR 4LIFER FOR A FUCKING MAN…? WHY WOULD A MAN BE THERE????? WHY WOULD A FUCKING MAN BE PUT FIRST STOP THINKING WITH YOUR FUCKING PUSSY GIRL IM SERIOUSLY GOING TO BEATTTT THE SHIT OUT OF HER CUS ALL THIS OVER A FUCKING MAN IS INSANE (did I mention how this is extra insane because it’s over a MAN?? Like idgaf if he’s not girl get UPP) unless it’s over inumaki… then it makes sense.. WHO SAIDD THATTT (I’m projecting… sorry guys… I’m not sexist I promise ☹️☹️) (maki please humble her because if I was sjap yn I would’ve RANNN TO MAKII LIKE GIRL IM SO SORRY PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME ILY UR MY BSF AND ILL DUMP EVERY SINGLE MAN IN THE WORLD FOR YOU ☹️☹️☹️☹️😭😭😭😭)

THE CLIFFHANGER OMFG⁉️⁉️ IT BETTER NOT BE SUKUNA GIRL OTHERWISE IM BEATING THE SHITT OUT OF UUUU but at the same time.. megumi is BARLEY better… like by 0.000000001% better… so…. What if we just fuck toge instead 🤗🤗🤗 I’m EXTREMLEY fond of that idea sooo maybe keep it in mind?/j SRSLY THO ILL BEAT U UP IYA (then we can make out while watching despicable me after 🥰😘)

Omfg…. FUCKKKK YNNNN UGHHH GIRL STAND UP THIS IS WHAT BEING A WHORE RESULTS TO (as if I wouldn’t come running back to my ex with open arms if I had the chance…jk I don’t have an ex… it’s something I would do tho… I’ve done it for countless friendships… SIGHH) #projectingagain

#someonepleasefuckingshootme

#togepleasegivemehead😘😘🥰😍🤗

Ok DAMNN I HAD A LOT TO YAP… but it was a GOOD ASS CHAPTER IM LITERALLY SO STUFFED 🤰🤰

IM GONNA TRY AND GET ON TGAT GRINDD TODAY CUS ILL TRY ACTUALLY STUDYING FOR MY TESTS SO NEXT SJAP WEEKEND IS MY INSPO FS ‼️🤗🐺🔥 + I JUST CHECKED MY SCHEDULE AND I HAVE A FREE PERIOD TMRW YAYSYSYSYSYYSSYYAYAYAYSY I LOVE WHENEVER I START MY WEEK WITH A FREE😍😍😍

HOW WAS UR DAYYYY⁉️⁉️ SINCE ITS MONDAY FOR U IM ASSUMING YOU HAVE WORK SO I HOPE IT WAS GOOD 🔥🔥

IM SO GLAD MY COMMENTS FILL U WITH LOVE 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ CUS I FEEL VERY LOVED EACH TIME U RESPOND TO MY ASKS ‼️🔥💗

ANSWER TO LAST QOTD 🔥🔥🤗 TEA FSS I AM A SLUTTTTTT FOR UNSWEETENED TEA LIKE OML 😫😍🤤 I GREW UP DRINKING IT CUS MY FAM WOULD SHOVE IT DOWN MY THROAT EVERY CHANCE THEY GOT SO IT STOPPED AFFECTING ME LIKE A ENERGY DRINK UNLESS I DOWN LIKE 10 PACKS 😢😢 BUT ITS SO GOOKDDD UFGHGHH I LOVE THE BITTER TASTE 🤤🤤🤤 MY FAV IS GREEN TEA AND 紅茶 (I forgot what it was called in English 😢😢)

QOTDDDD ‼️🔥🤗 CAKE OR PIE 🥧 🍰⁉️⁉️

OKAH BYE SIGMA IYAAA IK I YAPPED HARDDDD WITH THE SJAP COMMENTS SO FEEL FREE TO NOT READ ALL OF MY YAP 😭 HOPE U HAD A VERY SIGMATASTIC DAY ‼️‼️ LOVE U POO POO

- 🐺

HI ALPHA!! 🐺

daily check in i love its 2am and i always answer ur check ins last bc i like ending it on a good note🙂‍↕️ LMFAO UR FINE <3 sorry if this is not coherent i am on the verge of sleeping so that’s why!!

HEH IM GLAD U LIKE UR CAMEO!! pucker up ill take that kiss now😼 YUTAMAKI FOR LIFE. like yes i also love nobamaki but ive never see yutamaki in smau’s so i decided to make them a couple 🙂‍↕️ #YNSTANDUP #CITYGIRLSDOWN pls guys we need her to stop thinking with her pussy💔🙏 TALK TUAH ME PLS ALPHA IM WEAK😭 u guys belong together fr. NO EXACTLY CUZ WHY WOULD A MAN BE THERE. this may or may not been me expressing my feelings in which my friend went back to her ex after us crying together abt it… #loredrop like pls i would forever choose my bestfriend over any man PERIOD

i was rubbing my hands together laughimg evilly at the cliff hanger heh.. am i evil guys😈 (i have received countless death threats) (im so on for watching despicable me pls) SONT BE! I LOVE UR YAPS AND I HOPE UR STUFFED AFTER EVERY CHAPTER (pause)

YAY FOR FREE PERIODS🔥 think of sjap as a reward 😼🫵 bc this next chapter WILL BE FR🔥 MY DAY WAS GOOD! i did not have work which is YAY but omg i made french toast and it was so bus liek omg pls my stomach is rumbling thinking abt it… AW ALPHA ILY <33

OOOOO TEA I LIKE IT LMFAO NOT THE BEING FORCED TO DRINK IT IK WEAK😭 U MUST GIVE ME RECS!

QOTD: CAKE! specifically cheesecake or lava cake i’m a SLUT for the both of them but i do love a good apple/berry pie.. pls now im so hungry im going to go to the fridge after this💔💔 WBY!!!

ILY ALPHA!! HAVE A SIGMA DAY AT SCHOOL PLS KEEP ON YAPPING <333

[missmeinyourbones]

kin assign your moots :)

ok this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and kin is too hard so i decided to ship my mutuals... so basically i am not answering ur question but alas here we are

also i have a lot of mutuals so i think im just gonna do a few rn... maybe the ones i interact w the most or who i see the most on my dash ???? idk i also haven't talked to some of my mutuals bc im a dumb scared baby so if you are not on this list please do not crucify me i love u and if anyone wants a ship/more of these pls ask me i swear i can be normal

@crysugu - why do i wanna say... d-d-deku.... I DONT KNOW something about him is making a lot of sense with you! two lil sweethearts who are so so selflessly kind but ik u guys are Freaks when it comes to one another....

@soumies - i know megumi is such a safe answer but its so real... like so real i cant even think of another name to put down here. my two sweet little babies !!! :3 ;P you match one another energies so well... i trust him in ur hands (and more importantly, i trust u in his)

@alert-arlert - porco LMFAO its always gonna be porco with you ryn! i want you to walk him like a dog so fucking badly. he is so annoying and you are so powerful i just KNOW you have the ability to tame him. close second is hange tho for similar but less intense reasons

@ghostbeam - again there is no answer that is not dabi... but weirdly... i see you with dabi more than touya ??? idk something about the dabi-eqsue yearning closed barriers angsty dark love that shouldn't work but it does fits you guys so well. an icon in the dabi universe is what you are

@demxnscous - im fearful that im saying osamu. and im saying this because the way u write him is so RAW that you cant not be soulmates. i swear you could turn anyone on to him and THAT right there is such a power to wield.... the power of ur love for that man deserves this title

@izurou - SUNA please my favorite suna baby. he annoys you and you let him and its so beautiful. you just get him !!!!! which is tough but you're tougher. i think about ur characterization of him all the time, specifically in the routine and thursday and i could cry with how lovely he is when it comes to you

@augustinewrites - augustine.... you feel so Classy to me. like in my mind u radiate the purest of elegance. a god-tier creator on this app amongst us mere mortals. i feel like your poetic way of existing could compliment sakusa really well! the two of you are so sexi you look like you'd bully people but in reality are so kind just a bit intimidating

@maplesuna - maple i love the idea of you and atsumu becuase i cant stand him half of the time and i absolutely adore you so i love the concept him just being absolutely whipped for you. like u boss him around and he adores it and i get to watch it all front row w some buttery popcorn

@touyangel - sunny my baby you are so sugary sweet i know that hawks would treat u sooooo good. because hes kind and a little fucked up but you truly see the very best in everyone and i think you could save that man from himself. also pls take his #2 hero money u deserve fancy things

@utahimeow - gojo!!!! char u are one of my go to gojo babies whenever i want to giggle and make fun of him or completely tear my hair out thinking about him...i know ur always game. u understand him so well!!!! u are also not afraid to humble him <3 which i love

@kentoangel - choso. choso choso and choso. i know u love him but it feels so right. u guys are like a quiet kind of morning love... like when you sit in a sunlit window and don't need words to explain how you feel. also i think about your mango piece every day of my life... need i say more?

[beea-idiot56]

Chapter 6 - Care free, live free

What happens when a person who has been diagnosed with extreme anxiety and had "retired" from volleyball finds themselves coaching a team full of guys who are a little too loud for their comfort(especially the ginger)?

‘Slow burn? ✔️ smut?❌ they/them pronouns?✔️ forced?❌ Childe x Reader Volleyball AU Wattpad Link Prologue link(Tumblr)

y/n climbed into the car, not knowing how to sit in this new environment, not wanting to be too comfortable and coming off as rude, or too stiff and making the air awkward. Childe definitely kept his car well made, the mats were vacuumed recently, the air freshener was shaped like a volleyball, the seats were coated in a nice black leather with no imperfections. The car itself was slightly crampt. Childe had his legs pushed against the steering wheel and he had to tilt his head far to get in the car. It made y/n wonder why he got this car if it was so small. Its not like he was tight on money, being a professional volleyball player and all. 

As if reading their thoughts childe smiled and looked at them, his eyes crinkling at the edges, “its a little small but i like it like that. Plus it was my siblings dream car and i wanted to get one so they could ride around in it.” he smiled, and y/n couldnt help but smile too. 

“Thats so…” they looked to find the word that was stuck between their lips, it was unable to escape their brain, “you?” they laughed a little, tilting their head to the side. 

“Whats that mean?” childe laughed, leaning back against the seat and looking at them with an offended expression resting on his features. 

“I dont know!” y/n laughed rubbing their face, not knowing how to put their thoughts together. “Its just, something i shoulve expected from you. To get a car too small for your long legs and then say its for your siblings. Yknow? It deserves a word that means something, and the only example of a word would be, you? Not as in the description, but the person. Childe. I- sorry im not making much sense…” y/n let their words run off, unable to justly explain their thoughts and emotions in a way that didnt require a three hour lecture. It might of been the college life in them, huh? 

“No youre fine! I think i get you! Like how the feeling of anxiety mixed with shyness contrasted with confidence in a way that creates this… abomination? Is just the way to explain you, without explaining you. Or like how i expect you to coach kids volleyball but still say youre not cut out for coaching my team?” he laughed before turning forward, leaving y/ns throat dry. How was he able to understand the words that fell from their mouth and yet be so off the mark as to what they meant?

“Hey! Those are two different age groups! Its easier to teach little kids because theres more to teach!” Y/n switched the topic over to coaching, not wanting to draw attention to the way he called them an abomination. The feeling of dread filling their lower stomach and giving birth to a bug they knew would eat at their brain if given the chance.

“And yet you still do a fantastic job at both” childe spoke, a teasing tone slipping into his voice that accompanied his eye roll, but they both knew it was all in good fun. y/n felt a thick layer of blush lay across their cheeks in humble awkwardness. They just laughed a bit but looked down at their shoes that laid against the floor mats. In the weirdest way possible, it just felt right. Looking at their feet compared to the floor. The way their legs pushed against the middle console and door, or the way their back slid into the seat. And for some reason it felt natural when childe reaches over and handed the aux cord to y/n, a smile present on his lips and words in his mouth that y/n was far to zoned out to understand. But that didnt stop them from navigating to the playlist they knew that both y/n and childe would like and pressing play, letting the feeling of the music vibrating in the speakers overcome their senses and the feeling of wind in their hair as childe rolled down the window. 

For some reason they were not uncomfortable. They were able to put their elbows on the console without worrying if they were overstepping boundaries. They didnt mind humming the lyrics to the songs they knew and bobbing their head to the beat of songs they hadnt memorized yet. It all felt natural, like a fever dream that they woud have in the middle of the night when sleep didnt come easy. 

Was this what it felt like to be happy? 

The thought echoed in their brain as they looked at the passing trees and buildings. Ease rolled off their shoulders and brought them comfort. The sun hit them right on the cheeks, like the many years before. The small bumps of the pot holes and rocks on the road was easy to get lost in, the vibrations sending their brain into a land of thoughts. For once the thoughts weren't even negative. Y/n was so used to having to block out their brain, in search of solidarity and comfort in silence. The music that usually flowed from the speakers of earbuds was what did that. However, now, they found themself in a car, comfortable with thinking. For some reason the answer to the question was easy to come, 

Yes. They smiled a little, they didn't need the greatest party, or a first time to be happy, the small sound of childe singing lyrics and the view of the car door caging the sky was enough to be happy. It was almost criminal that someone who was so full of energy and loud noises, things that y/n often found to be anxiety inducing, their heart would race usually, sometimes they’d find themself crying simply from being overwhelmed,,, and yet, now? They found themself yearning for this feeling to continue. 

It felt just as criminal that the moment had to end when childe pulled into the parking lot of a busy bar. The sounds of people chatting and clashing together glasses of beer rang forth, drowning out the music that played from both the bar and the vehicle they sat in. 

“I hope you don't mind us coming here, it's the only place with burgers that doesn't cost a liver and kidney to go to” childe laughed, scratching his neck nervously as he turned off the car. 

Suddenly, the feeling of relaxation seemed more like a corset, choking their stomach and bringing their senses to everything but the air around them. y/ns eyes danced from person to person that they could see through the windows. Then immediately to their reflection. The thought of brushing back their hair isn't even needed before they had been running a hand through the locks upon their head. Even when childe climbed out and stood by the car waiting for them, they couldn't help the feeling of dread cross over their senses. The furrowing of their eyebrows wasn’t enough for a microscope to see, but it was enough to set in stone that they knew in their heart that they wouldn't enjoy themselves here. 

However, could they say no? The look of happiness on Childes face brought them to resist the urge to take the keys and steering wheel and simply run. The blue in his eyes almost as inviting as the ocean, beckoning y/n forward with a call. Y/n wanted nothing more than to lose themself, yet, the sound of pool balls hitting the edges of a table brought them back to the earth they hated so much. 

“It's alright!” the sounds and words were out of their mouth before they tell themself not to submit. They had opened the door before their hands stopped shaking, they had already walked up the flight of stairs before they were even able to calm their heart rate. As childe opened the door they couldn't help but gasp, the air full of smoke and regret and day drinkers filled their lungs and brought them into a clench that was already there.  How were they supposed to say they wanted to leave before they even sat down? How was y/n supposed to stop and beg childe to turn so that they'd go somewhere calmer? I'll pay! They screamed in their head ill pay! Please let's just leave. Yet, the words never left and soon they were staring at a menu with almost nothing but burgers and fries and pizzas. 

A/N: super short chapter :00, but its good bc the next chapter is super fucking long. (i actually finished writing that, TODAY!!! i just posted it on wattpad and now im posting the 6th one here :"D.

Im also going to post the chapters on twitter via links, i think thatd be rlly cool hehe. so like- feel free to get check that out. its @A_idiot56

Anywayyssss, make sure to eat, sleep, and drink water! i love yall <3

[undlewear]

this is unironically very true and real. everything about hate is easy, it is easy to allow yourself to feel it, it is an easy way to make yourself feel better, it is easy to fall into hateful patterns and remain there, and really - it is easy to stop feeling too, with a slight change to your mindset + if you are smart.

love comes with a multitude of other emotions, actions and reactions that are unpredictable, it is a dance that no one knows all the steps to. love requires you to be humble, gentle, forgiving, understanding, compassionate, complimentary, it requires you to step away from your ego and strip yourself of it at times, it requires honesty and loyalty, it requires a willingness to withstand hardships and a desire to navigate trouble, you have to be vulnerable and expose your insecurities, you essentially have to flay yourself and expose your beating heart to someone as they do the same, while you both hold a knife inches away from each other’s chests.

when you see older couples who have been together for decades, you have to ask yourself “how many times have they forgiven each other, and why?” - because that is the territory. i don’t mean forgiveness like “my husband beat my ass but i forgive him because we have children and i love him” or “my wife wanted to be polyamorous and i dont want that but i compromised because i love her” - that is being a passive doormat. love requires putting your foot down, a pair of firm, steady, unwavering hands that help guide each other when the going gets tough. you have to love yourself, too, and not in an egotistical “im better than xyz” way that is actually rooted in hate, it has to come from a place of respect for yourself and your partner, a willingness to be better for the both of you (and they should also strive to be better, too).

a problem in our young adult generations (millennial and gen z) is the massive fucking ego, the individualism perpetuated by social media (which sounds like an oxymoron since its supposed to promote togetherness and bring likeminded people together). so many people put their partners on pedestals just to watch them fall, and subconsciously get off on the pleasure of watching them fall because it feeds their ego and makes them feel better than their partner, or like they deserve more. if you have a shred of emotional intelligence or actual empathy, you will not put someone on a ledge and say “you could never make me mad” or “you could never disappoint me”, push them off, and be surprised that they cannot fly on the two wings you just sewed haphazardly to their back. those are impossible statements to live up to. same as saying “i’ll never hurt you” - most people mean “i wont cheat on you, abuse you or cruelly lie to you” - but to say you’ll never hurt your partner shows a lack of foresight and understanding about what love actually means long term.

people who are capable of love in the long term and following through on the vows of “for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, to love and to cherish, to death do us part” - that comes with real, tangible intelligence and mental strength. that shit will test your limits and make you a better person - you cannot be an idiot and have a lifelong marriage. my grandparents were married 60 years before one of them died, and even a year before said death, they had new trials to overcome together (being past the point of “will i lose this person because they want to leave me” and instead being in the place of “which of us leaves first, whose death will cause us to part?”)

to put it simply, hate is individualistic + simple minded + egotistical + requires no real effort (and i dont mean healthy expression of anger and microdosing being a hater in the funny sense, i mean actually being hateful and cruel towards people you care about because it makes you feel better about yourself and your own shortcomings). with love, you will dislike certain traits and mistakes that your partner has and makes, but you will use all the other skills required to OBTAIN love in order to MAINTAIN it because it is like a two trees, their roots grow together and rely on each other, you have to prune them and water them and shield them from harsh weather, and sometimes one will need more attention than the other - when a tree with connected roots struggles, the other will offer its strength and nutrients to help, because if one dies - they both do. love is selfless and altruistic, and when its been trained - it doesnt feel “high level” or difficult or like work, its like muscle memory.

[traashvoid]

Im gonna say it

"Its Because They Were Raised That Way" is the biggest bullshit excuse on the mfing planet when it comes to people not correcting their friends or family or community. I, after giving my Mother the chance to change as a person from when she raised me, and essentially putting boundaries down. She learned to listen and be more open minded despite her struggles to understand. But if you wholeheartedly know what you are speaking about, and can explain it using ways they would understand, and being straight about about facts- if they are willing to listen and change and they respect you and your thoughts- and if you state it in a way they do not feel attacked but more of a "oh hey speaking of that topic i learned that yadda yadda yadda" its so much more receptive. My Mother and I spoke the other day about voting with a license and the topic on "affordable housing" and the truth in homelessness. And she looked shocked if anything. She struggled her whole life. Mainly with abuse growing up, then abuse and poverty after she got away from her parents. But due to her extremely sheltered life. And I do quite mean she spent her first 18 years in an abusive controlling (and i do mean quite controlling but thats for another post) household where her father was racist and murderous, violent and unfortunately an angry drunk addiction. Then she married my dad some time after I was conceived. And knowing my transphobic, misogynistic and racist father- who ruined her credit btw and life at that point- was more than like an abusive situation too, but not as volatile and long as her relationship with my ex step-douche.

And THAT is a story and a half. But he too is a super racist, hateful bigot. Who quite literally has not a soul in his life rn because of it. AND YET HERE WE ARE- My mother who was raised and kept sheltered for almost 40 years of her god damn life- The same mother who thought the same typical non fact based "welfare illegals are stealing our jobs and money" bullshit ideas my grandfather and ex step douche always kept saying- Is now on the cusp of breaking through to being a leftist. With every conversation- she grows more informed, more willing to talk about these hard conversations with me. More willing to become humbled especially on something she knows nothing on. With enough work, compassion, and interaction. People *can* be helped. I also would LOVE to add that the differences here are that meanwhile I cut off people for their shitty words to me- It is up to them to take that cut off and reflect and *apologize* for their ignorance and assholish behavior. I will always always always vote and protest and fight for everyones equal rights, especially the right to a world where we all dont have to struggle and be so angry all the time. We deserve to have community, and to love one another. Dont give up on each other, and quit making excuses.

[thecolorsofpain]

I never thought of myself as the type of person, woman, that felt undeserving of the better things.

What I meant is that I never did anything horrendous to others to want to punish myself subconciously into thinking I am UNDESERVING of a better life, a better boyfriend, better house, better job or better circumstances.

I always knew my worth, I always knew the things I deserved, without the arrogant part of me wanting them.

I have never felt a side of me feel Mighty and more powerful than others. I never felt better than others in the sense that OTHERS could ne inferior than me.

Nevertheless, I do, feel better than others sometimes.

When I know I never could rip people apart to get what I want, physically hurt other beings or wish ill upon others.

I know that I am different from many people. I am different in the way that other people are different when it comes to being good and choosing to remain so.

I am different in the way that I don´t have evil in my heart as a beast I need to feed to feel alive.

Sometimes, rarely at times.... I feel like I must feed a small beast... only happens when people are cruel to me and others.

I think that is justified. I think it is heroic.

I always wanted to be a heroe more than a lover

Standing up for others has always felt like a passion. I like doind things with passion. Being heroic is a way of living through emotion.

The emotion of compassion, of empathy, of bravery, true humbleness. Taking a leap of faith for others when they need you and asking of nothing in return. Taking a leap of faith for yourself knowing your true value with no remorse or guilt.

It takes a fair amount of bravery to stand up for your value and showing your true worth to the world. Because it means letting go of the shame you feel when you differ from others`opinion on the value they think YOU have. It means believing in yourself before anyone else and making your own belief irrefutable. Impossible to negotiate.

It takes courage to fight the guilt and beat it to death. A guilt that can weight 19, 50, 100 or more people depending on how many beings you know and are important to you and your view of yourself. How selfish it may be to them that you comfortably, casually and freely chase your dreams and hopes. How it hurts them to see you fly like a bird, they dont mean to cage you, they just want to fly like you but its so hard for them to become the bird, so they make you feel guilty for flying wherever you want. They dont mean to, its human emotion to covet.

So when you feel and act your freedom, you begin to live.

I cant help to wonder what my life would look like on the inside if I didnt have emotional chains on my ankles.

Emotional paradigms within me.

I know I can do better.

My entire existance, my face, my body is glorious. I have a magnifique presence. A wonderful heart, full of hope, faith, thrill, mystery, joy, melancholy, extreme empathy and love. A limitless brain, insatiable for knowledge and anxious for experience. How could a women with intention be so struck in demise?

Sometimes I dwell on this thought too long during an entire day adn I can never find an answer. Because it feels as if it is deeper than I could comprehend.

I think about how complex my feeelings really are. The revolution inside of me that is constantly active. Trying to change me, trying to transform me and it does. And I am a slave of this revolution. I wish to heal myself to be better for myself , for what`s coming, for others, for the world and for a transcendental purpose that is still cooking.

I dont wish to be dragged in the mundane, in the banal, superficial, materialistic, capitalist concept of a human life. I hate it. but it seems as if everyone must, forecefully become that. It used to be a constant pressure to become that myself but now that I wish not to be a part of that misery and insanity, I much rather WAIT.

Wait for a sould that wants the same as me. Serenity. Freedom. Love. Spirituality.

I want to be my own and I dont want anything or anyone to own me.

But I always act out of emotion and love and pleasure, passion.

I think about my current partner and think, Am I making the right decision in staying with him?

Is his bloodline really good for me? do I really want to lace my ancestry with his? is it any good.

A family so broken like his and yet so close and intimate. It looks like a broken and burnt ceramic vase. glued together alll over the place, missing fragments and burnt on the edges while it is expected to hold water in it.

My family is a broken ceramic vase as well. But it has been broken and accepted it is broken. Not rebuilt and expected to be useful.

I think we are both birds of the same feather. I cant pick which is more harmful.

I know my family accepts him and welcomes him and makes him feel good at home despite the troubles they might have caused me in the past.

but his family doesnt welcome me at home with warm supper and warm hearts. They all are so broken they cant welcome another member of a family. I am hated by the father and my value is constantly deconstructed by him. He teaches his kids that a woman like me is unworthy of love and marriage and living. He has such a cruel view of woman and people. So broken and torn and dark and poisoned and rotten inside.

[sereniv]

people deserve to feel uncomfortable when it comes to injustice

i dont mean uncomfortable in a harmful way like being subjected to videos of death or rape when its unnecessary for you

i mean everyone and i mean EVERYONE (who is capable of understanding), needs to have someone outside their (your) experiences tell you to stfu.

Everyone needs a moment where you feel bad or guilty. Everyone needs a moment where they are called out on ignorance or bigotry on any spectrum,

so that you have the moment to just, take it. to deal with it. to suck it up

to learn to look past your emotions and to see what the real issue is

too many times people have to walk on eggshells, to be a model minority, when they want- NEED to be angry

And im not talking verbal abuse, i mean not having to be nice all the time

I mean "shut up this isnt for you" and for you to take it. "dont talk to me dont touch me" and to deal with it. "i dont trust you" "you are making me uncomfortable" "you will never understand" "stop"

To hear someone tell you how it is without filter, and to hear it, to listen, and to move on.

You say "got it" "understood" "sorry about that". you dont grovel. You act like an adult. You fucked up, or you are not what the person needs right now and thats ok. Dont dwell. You arent a bad person and you need to actually put effort into understanding that so that you can look past any opressor guilt and focus on what is more important and that is learning

But people are too used to coddling and hearing things being said in the nicest way

And i think everyone just needs to get a wake-up call at least once to humble them and learn them that you are nothing special. You not the main character. You DO make people uncomfortable sometimes just as they make you uncomfortable sometimes

I know for a fact that i do. i know that i have been ignorant, i know me not understanding something on a personal level like racism or transmisogyny has made me say things that probably made some of my friends roll their eyes.

And i know ive felt that with other people where i roll my eyes or ive felt uncomfortable

Everyone is going to have something they dont know on a personal level be it abelism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, death of a loved one, poverty, etc

I used to be scared to mess up, until i realized other people feel the same way. And that i felt like it was dumb for them to feel that way, it felt artificial like they were always calculating what they were saying or always feeling wary, and i saw that i most likely came off that way too

so i try really hard to just own up and move on. Because its not about you

youre allowed to feel bad

but like give yourself a time limit or something and keep it to yourself or write in a diary. And then do better.

Best thing you can do rn is ask someone to tell you anything theyve wanted to tell you that youve done to make them feel uncomfortable.

but you HAVE to make sure you are ready to hear it and take it and accept it, to apologize and to move on

[amyluu1]

Check out the video I made for my good friend Adam!

Adam is honestly one of the best Arborists in the world! My dear friend is a Certified Arborist a Certified Genius and a Professional tree climbing maniac!

I have known and admired Adam for a long time and he is so humble and down to earth that he would never admit to being a genius but I remember along time ago when we were seniors at Alta High.

It was Adam, me and a handful of other close friends we grew up with prepping for Collège and applying to Universities and scholarships together as a group so that we could help each other with applications It was nice setting goals with friends and getting the advice and incite that a true friend may see that we dont.

It is awesome to have friends that are honest straight shooters that love you encourage you and want to support you so that you can develop and grow into the greatness that they know you deserve they encourage and get love and service from you because they are true friends that give you what they see in you including the greatness, love and compassion that is unique to you!

I opened his SAT test results joking that he shouldn't be ashamed of the low score I would discover. It turned out that the joke was on me when I opened the envelope and read the score outload I almost fell over. I remember reading his SAT scores and later I read two other letters that came with Adams test scores I didn't receive any letters with my test scores and no one else that we knew of did either.

The first letter was from MENSA International and explained a little about what the group was its history and how they wanted Adam to be apart of the groups future.

The second letter was way cooler because it was from the Director of the CIA! It was recruitment letter that started congratulating Adam for his high score and his placement with the elite 2% marking him as one of the smartest young minds in the nation by scoring in the upper 98th percentile meaning he scored higher than 98 percent of all test takers and was ranked even higher then most of the smartest 2% of people in the nation. The test results only ranked to the 98th percentile but the CIA discovered he scored better than 99.5% of all test takers and that he almost got every single test question right and only got one or two questions wrong.

Adam was offered a full ride scholarship and was planning on going to Stanford until right before his scheduled moving day he lost both his parents in a plane crash. I was actually helping him pack and we were filling boxes having fun I was snooping through his stuff and making fun of some of his stuff that he had kept from our elementary school days. I was happy and teasing Adam as I thumbed through a photo album his mom had recently made for him. She had paid to have all here old photographs copied and she compiled them in a scrap book photo album that had made it is actually really beautiful and put together nice it includes motivational quotes that are glued letter by letter next to pictures and stories about love family faith and so on. She made it by hand with love for Adam to take to Stanford.

Like I said before I was making jokes and being silly when Adams phone rang and he got the worst news of his life. His Mother and Father were killed when the small plane they were flying in crashed.

Adam never went to Stanford instead he stayed home and attended BYU so he could take care of his younger Sister and younger Brother. He graduated from BYU with Honors with Bachelors Degree in Horticulture. and then decided to get an MBA from Westminster's Gore School of Business.

I have watched in awe as he climbs through trees faster than I ever imaged possible pruning and caring about every single cut made in every single tree that he cares for from the biggest trees to the smallest.

Pruning and tree preservation are his signature services and what he loves to do. He doesn't love tree removals but when he has to remove a tree he can remove it safely and very efficiently!

Did I mention that I love work? Yes I do I can watch it all day long! It is fun and exciting watching skilled Arborists work the professionalism I have witnessed is second to none and just plain amazing.

For example watching Adam as He climbs to the top of huge scary trees then use big ropes, straps, carabiners, pulleys, cranks and other rigging tools to tie off and rope down huge branches, limbs, and gigantic sections of trunk that are over houses decks garages sheds fences you name it and I guarantee its safe from harm when Adam and his Company are the ones called to remove a tree that could cause serious damage and often does if left to unskilled or inexperienced tree cutters that don't or cant rig and rope down tree removals like the pros at Arbor Services!

If you live in Utah or Southern Idaho and you need tree care services connect with Arbor Services through their site below or

Call or Text 801-784-TREE to schedule a FREE No Obligation Estimate and Consultation With one of their Certified Arborists at a time that works best for you!

Your Friend Always,

Amy Luu

Check out my blog and learn more about me and what I do when I'm not creating content for and bragging about my Friends or Family!

Amy Luu

[kenta-rin]

Ch 5-6

[I DID NOT WRITE THIS, just uploading for posterity]

Tips For Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 5

Notes:

hey it's me again. couple of notes here: first of all please drive safe and distracted driving is bad dont eat and drive. second of all theres a line here thats like, "jesses a disgusting american who loves fast food" and i just wanted to say, i love americans some of my best friends are american, and i love fast food some of my best friends are fast food, the only person im calling disgusting here is jesse mccree. i will never shame u for being american or eating fast food, i will only shame mccree. for existing. ok, next up last time we talked there was one fanart for this fic drawn by the wonderful nance well now there's... 6. unbelievable. i am so incredibly grateful & overwhelemd & humbled by the fact that MULTIPLE human beings on earth read my fic and were like, hey, that's good, i'm gonna draw that. thank you all so much... and thank you to everyone who's left kudos! and left comments! you're all so good, kind, wonderful, i dont deserve u... links to art in end notes

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

For the first time in almost a week, it’s not a voice calling his name that wakes Jesse.

He jolts up from his pillow, hand instinctively closing around the handle of the gun that’s still holstered at his hip. He’d fallen asleep without taking off his gear and he already regrets it. He feels grimy.

He hears the noise that woke him again: a knock on the door. The room is dark, but that doesn’t mean much; the love hotel (Jesse wants to cringe just thinking those words) has electronic blinds that are tightly shuttered. He glances at the clock.

It’s just after nine PM, and someone is knocking on the door of the hotel room no one is supposed to know he’s in.

“It’s me,” a voice calls through the door.

Jesse raises his eyebrows in disbelief. On the one hand, the way the voice is muffled makes its owner ambiguous. On the other hand, there’s only one person Jesse can think of who’d think he’d open the door to that kind of message.

He opens the door. It’s Genji. Of course it’s Genji. Jesse lets him in.

“Do you think it’s smart to come here? You don’t think your dad’s gonna be suspicious?”

Genji shrugs. “My father never knows where I am.” He has a bag slung over one of his shoulders. He dumps it on the bed as Jesse locks the door. “I brought you a phone so you can call your gang.”

Jesse practically snatches it out of Genji’s hands. “Give me a minute,” Jesse tells him, and then he retreats to a corner of the room and starts dialling. Genji settles himself down on top of the bed, crossing his legs and rifling through whatever else he brought. He looks like he’s settling in for a long stay. Jesse resolves to ignore him, for now.

The call to New Mexico rings for a distressing amount of time. He hopes they’re not blocking him because it’s an unknown number. It’s more likely that no one feels like picking up the phone, but Jesse’s trying to give his fellow Deadlock Gang members the benefit of the doubt in believing they won’t leave him to die in a foreign country out of sheer laziness.

Finally, someone answers. “Oh, thank God,” Jesse breathes. “It’s McCree.”

“McCree?” The voice asks, incredulous. “You’re still alive? Shit, boy, you must be tougher than we all thought!”

Jesse grits his teeth, trying not to read too much into that. “Yeah. Look, I need -”

“Hang on a sec, lemme get you on speaker. Boys, McCree’s still alive!”

When the call goes to speaker Jesse has to hold the phone away from his ear. The cacophony on the other side is ungodly. He can make out a few distinct shouts of “Atta boy!” and other sundry encouragements, but mostly it seems to just be wordless yelling.

“I won’t be alive for long if you don’t get me a goddamn shuttle back to America!” He shouts back down the line. He’s not even sure anyone hears him.

The noise dies down after a minute.

“He won’t be alive for long if we don’t rescue him,” someone says, to a chorus of hoots and hollers. Jesse clenches his fist around his phone because first of all, he’d just said that and they would have heard it if they’d been listening, and second of all, he wouldn’t need rescuing at all if they hadn’t sent him on a suicide mission.

“When can you get a plane out here?” Jesse asks, knowing he’s in no position to argue semantics.

“We’ve been making calls,” someone answers, and Jesse’s almost relieved to know that at least one person is taking this seriously. “The Hanamura airport’s pretty much impossible to get into without Shimada’s permission. You need to get outta that city, Jesse.”

Jesse leans his forehead against the wall nearest him. That is so, so much easier said than done. He glances over at Genji, who’s flopped back onto the bed and is playing with his own phone.

“If I gotta, I gotta,” he sighs.

“If you get to a big city like Osaka or Tokyo you can catch the next flight to the States, then we can arrange pick-up from there.”

Jesse’s starting to wonder what the point of having a gang is. They’ve basically told him to take care of himself throughout this whole crisis. He breathes a deep sigh.

“Got it,” he says. His annoyance shines through the short syllables, but he doesn’t give anyone a chance to reply. “I’ll contact you soon.” He ends the call.

When he turns back to face the room again, Genji bounces up from his reclining position. “God, that took forever,” he says cheerfully. Genji seems to find an inordinate amount of joy in Jesse’s life-threatening peril.

“I need to get to a city with an airport your dad doesn’t control. As soon as possible.” Jesse rubs at his eyes, feeling tired and cranky. When he looks at Genji again, Jesse sees a smile on his face that he doesn’t particularly like.

“So, what you are saying is,” Genji begins, his grin taking up half his face, “We need to go on a roadtrip.”

“No,” Jesse answers quickly, feeling dread filling him up. “No, God, I just meant - I need a way to get there, I didn’t mean that we should go together -” Genji continues to grin at Jesse relentlessly. “Oh God, please, my life is in danger, you should be taking this seriously!”

“I am taking this seriously,” Genji says, and he schools his face into a mockery of sternness for about five seconds before he’s smiling again. “You cannot drive yourself because you do not know the way. I can drive!”

“If you can drive then why’s Yuri always carting you around?”

“Because I like Yuri, and Yuri likes to be useful. I can totally drive. I’m good at it. I have a car!”

Jesse considers this. The son of the man who’s trying to kill him (and the brother of the man who betrayed him, but he’s trying not to think about that) is offering him a ride out of the city so that he can flee the country. Genji has a car, which is what Jesse really needs right now. He’s probablynot a great driver, because he’s eighteen, and Jesse’s skeptical about him “knowing the way,” because the Shimada family would probably fly in a plane to the grocery store (if they ever went to the grocery store, which they wouldn’t, because they could just send other people to the grocery store for them).

There’s always GPS, though. And cars mostly drive themselves, these days. Put ‘em on the road and watch ‘em hover placidly to their destination. As long as no one tries to blow ‘em up.

For a moment Jesse wonders if having Genji in the car with him would deter Shimada from blowing it up. He honestly can’t decide.

“How long will it take?” He finally asks.

Genji beams, knowing that Jesse has resigned himself to the roadtrip. “Probably only two or three hours. We will have to go slow. Be stealthy.”

Jesse thinks of that circuitous route Genji took him on through the gardens to get to the beach party. He can already feel a headache coming on.

“Genji, if I die because of you I’m gonna be pissed,” Jesse tells him, rubbing his forehead wearily.

Genji makes a face at him. “If you are going to be like that maybe I will just leave you here.”

Jesse exhales loudly through his nose. “Fine. I’ll behave. Where’s your goddamn car?”

“In the parking lot,” Genji tells him.

“Of this hotel?” Jesse asks, his eyebrows raising (and his blood pressure too, probably).

“Yes, but don’t worry,” Genji answers, apparently anticipating Jesse’s loss of temper, “it has an undercover mode.”

“An undercover mode,” Jesse repeats flatly.

“Yes. Normally it has these green flame decals,” Genji explains.

“Jesus Christ.”

“No, they are really cool!” The slang is a little stiff in Genji’s mouth. Jesse feels like he should be pausing for a laugh track. “But when I need to hide from my dad I can make the flames black so they cannot be seen.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” Genji says, gathering his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “We should leave here anyway. It is better to travel at night when you’re on the run.”

Jesse can’t argue with that, and he’s eager to get the hell out of this town anyway, so he grabs the suitcase he never bothered unpacking and follows Genji out of the hotel room. He wishes he’d been able to shower before committing to a couple of hours in a car, but he can shower all he wants once he’s safe in New Mexico. Relatively safe. Also, he probably can’t shower all he wants, because the gang pays their water bills sporadically and there’s no guarantee he’ll come home at a time when they haven’t been cut off.

Genji’s car looks just as generic as the next one parked in the lot, plain black with tinted windows.

“You know, people can still track the license plates and the registration number,” Jesse points out, but his heart’s not really in it.

Genji actually laughs in reply. “My father runs a criminal empire. The license plate is holographic and changes at random. There is no registration number.”

Jesse sighs and allows Genji to win this one, at least. He climbs into the car without further complaint. Genji settles himself behind the wheel, but he doesn’t start driving.

He’s not smiling, for once. There’s something hesitant, almost worried in his expression. Jesse tries not to presume the worst, but it’s a challenge.

“So,” Genji begins, fingers fidgeting.

“What,” Jesse prompts, not even a question; it’s nothing more than an exhausted gust of breath.

“Hanzo did not show up at the hotel room?” Genji asks, trying his best to seem casual.

“No.” Jesse has had more bad feelings in the past few days than he wants to count, but this is one of the worst. “Why would he?” His voice is almost as tight as the fingers clenched on his thighs.

“Well.” Genji seems to be very interested in the bright neon of the love hotel sign judging by the way he’s staring out the window and refusing to look at Jesse. “After Yuri and I brought you here, we went back home. And of course everyone was looking for you. They had no idea where you could have gone. My father locked himself in his office and said no one should talk to him unless they had found you.”

Genji’s started speaking faster and faster with each sentence. “Nobody was paying any attention to me, so I thought I had gotten away with it. But then Hanzo cornered me on my way to my room. And he said he knew what I’d done. And I thought he was going to kill me or something,” Genji laughs nervously, “but instead he just asked where you were? And I was not going to tell him. But he said that he could not leave things the way they were. He said that… You... “ Genji blushes. Jesse’s fingers are like claws digging into his thighs.

“I have never heard my brother speak the way he spoke about you,” Genji says. “I have never seen a look on his face like the one I saw.”

Jesse closes his eyes. “You told him where I was.”

There’s a very long, telling moment of silence.

“But he did not come to the hotel room after all,” Genji concludes. Jesse’s not sure if Genji means that to be tragic or reassuring.

Hanzo probably didn’t come to the hotel room because he went straight to his daddy with that information. They’re probably gathering a small army to come and shoot Jesse at this very moment.

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Jesse says, peering out the window and expecting men with guns to appear at any moment.

“Right.” Genji stills sounds nervous. He jams his finger against the ignition and the car purrs to life. Then he very, very slowly reverses the car.

“What are you doing,” Jesse asks flatly. He wonders if Genji missed the memo on the whole urgency thing.

“I do not want to hit any cars,” Genji explains. He’s sitting very stiffly in his seat, neck craning over his shoulder, taking it one inch at a time. Genji’s only eighteen. He’s probably had his license for a few months at most.

Jesse resigns himself to being shot to death in a love hotel parking lot.

Then Genji finally shifts the car from reverse to drive, and he slams the accelerator.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Jesse yells, scrabbling for a place to hold on to. He’s really fucking glad he’d decided to wear his seatbelt.

“I thought you wanted to go fast!” Genji yells back, but he sounds just as frantic and alarmed as Jesse.

He swings the car into traffic and the automatic sensors adjust the speed, a chiding Japanese voice saying something that Jesse’s pretty sure means ‘stop endangering people’s lives.’ Genji snaps something back, but the car doesn’t answer.

Genji starts messing with the GPS. “Where’s the nearest airport?” Jesse asks.

“Oh,” Genji says distractedly, fiddling with something. “It’s not too far, but I was thinking… First, we should go through a drive through.” He’s grinning again.

Jesse wants to smack him for not taking this seriously (again), but he actually hasn’t eaten since breakfast. He’s starving.

“Let’s get out of Hanamura first,” he compromises. “Then we can go wherever you want.”

Genji mulls that over for a moment, then starts tapping at the GPS screen. Jesse wants to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but he’s pretty sure that would actually make things worse. The car is a much better driver than Genji is.

“Okay,” Genji says finally, leaning back in his seat. After a moment he startles and puts his hand on the steering wheel, like he’d forgotten he was driving it all. It’s pretty much just for show, and the car’s only going in a straight line so far, but once they need to turn Genji’s input will be required.

Jesse is honestly dreading that time.

“What should we talk about?” Genji asks brightly, eyes darting here and there at the scenery they drive by. Jesse wonders if Genji actually has a driver’s license. Maybe his father had one forged for him.

“We shouldn’t talk about anything,” Jesse says, leaning his head against the window. He’s ready and willing to pass this drive asleep. Then again, if he leaves Genji unsupervised he’ll probably never wake up.

“No, no,” Genji shakes his head emphatically. “We have to bond. That’s what road trips are for.”

Jesse is too afraid to ask about which movie, exactly, Genji learned his road trip knowledge from. What if it’s the 2002 classic starring Britney Spears, Crossroads? Not that Jesse’s ever seen the movie, of course. Only he can’t stop picturing these horrifying mental images of him and Genji doing karaoke to Joan Jett in denim short-shorts.

“Usually road trips are longer than two hours,” Jesse informs Genji grumpily.

“That can be arranged,” Genji says with a smirk that fills Jesse with regret.

“No! Genji, no, I’m serious, I could die. Your dad wants to kill me. Please help me get out of the country.”

Genji pouts a little. “I’m not going to let my father kill you. Have a little faith in me.”

Jesse stares at the eighteen year old World’s Worst Driver in the seat next to him. He’s torn between being touched that Genji’s offering to protect him and exasperated that he thinks he can.

They lapse into silence for the half hour it takes to leave Hanamura, which they do without incident, though somehow that doesn’t do much to relieve Jesse’s paranoia. Genji only breaks the silence when he points through the windshield at a big lit-up sign down the road.

“Fast food?” He asks, sounding way too hopeful.

Jesse’s tempted to put up a fuss on principle, but first of all he’s really hungry and second of all he’s a disgusting American who loves fast food.

“What do they have?” he asks.

“McDonald’s has the same menu all over the world, does it not?”

“Oh, you’re not going to take me somewhere uniquely Japanese? What kind of enriching cultural experience is this?”

“I enriched your culture yesterday, with ramen,” Genji scolds. “Besides, I can’t eat with chopsticks while I’m driving.”

“You shouldn’t eat with your hands while driving, either,” Jesse points out, but they pull into the drive through and get burgers anyway.

“How far is it to the airport from here?” Jesse asks with his mouth full.

“An hour and a half,” Genji replies, one hand on the wheel and the other shoving a handful of fries into his face.

“Is that the direct route, or the ‘stealthy’ route?” Jesse asks sardonically.

“Stealthy.” Genji grins so wide Jesse can see potatoes mashed in his teeth.

“You’re disgusting,” he says, wiping his fingers on his pants.

They continue to eat in silence until Genji finishes his burger and throws his ketchup-stained wrapper at Jesse’s head, which leads to a rant peppered with some of Jesse’s most creative curses. This, in turn, leads to Genji requesting that Jesse teach him more American swear words, which passes a long time because Jesse knows a lot. When he’s done, he asks Genji to teach him some Japanese swear words, and before they know it they’re in the city.

“I know you want to leave as soon as possible,” Genji begins to say, his attention fixed on the bumper of the car in front of them. Even now, when it’s around midnight, the traffic is incredibly dense. “But it might be a better idea to check into a hotel for tonight, buy a plane ticket online, and get to the airport tomorrow.”

“How do you figure?” Jesse asks. He’s in a surprisingly good mood considering he’s been stuck in a vehicle in dirty clothes for so long, but Genji’s putting him on edge again.

“What is your plan for when you get to the airport? Run up to the desk and start demanding a ticket for the next flight to America?” Genji chews on his lip. “That might raise some suspicion. And suspicion is not what you want right now. You are supposed to be lying low.”

Jesse rubs at his beard thoughtfully. “Alright. I guess you’re right about that,” he concedes. He’s not sure he’s gonna be able to sleep tonight, too worried about Shimada somehow tracking him down.

But in all honesty, for all the grief Jesse’s given him Genji’s gotten him out of Hanamura and fairly well-hidden here in this city. He probably shouldn’t have doubted Genji as much as he did in the first place, considering Genji’s had years of experience hiding from his father.

“I know a hotel around here,” Genji says.

“A love hotel.” Jesse says flatly. He can tell by the way Genji’s failing to suppress a grin.

“It is even better than the last one,” Genji says with a wide smile.

Better is, of course, a subjective concept. This love hotel has a baffling mermaid theme. It’s so lit up with neon that Jesse feels like it’ll act like a beacon drawing Shimada’s eye. The brilliance of it is that it does the exact opposite. Hide in plain sight. No one would suspect a man undercover to sequester himself in the brightest building on the block. Especially if that building has a giant sexy mermaid on its roof.

Genji, thank God and all the angels and saints, books them two separate rooms. Jesse has grown very, very fond of Genji over the past few days. That does not mean he wants their road trip to become a sleepover.

Genji follows Jesse into his room anyway, and Jesse would be embarrassed at the implication if there was anyone around to witness it, but the hotel hallways are deserted. Jesse is very glad there seems to be sturdy soundproofing insulation in the walls.

Flopping onto Jesse’s bed without compunction, Genji digs into his shoulder bag and pulls out a tiny laptop.

“So, flights to America,” he says conversationally. Jesse busies himself with peeling off his outer clothing.

“What’s the earliest I can catch?” He asks.

Genji clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “I mean, taking security into account, you’ll need to get there a few hours early… There’s one for New York City at 5 AM.”

“Yanks,” Jesse admonishes idly, his spurs rattling as he pulls off his boots. Genji laughs.

“You can fly directly to Santa Fe at eleven,” Genji says. Jesse mulls it over.

“Guess that’d be for the best,” he says slowly. He wonders if he’ll drive himself insane with paranoia between now and then. After the nap he took earlier he’s going to be wide awake, thinking every sound he hears is Shimada Clan thugs out to get him.

“Alright, I have purchased your ticket. Give me the phone I gave you, I’ll download the boarding pass to it.”

Jesse thinks, for possibly the hundredth time tonight, that Genji is going to get him shot. “You bought me my ticket to Santa Fe. With your credit card. That your dad is definitely tracking.” Jesse sucks on his teeth, trying to keep his temper. “When he sees that purchase he’s gonna kill you too, not just me.”

Genji shakes his head. “No, I did not. You think I’m a fool.” He snatches Jesse’s phone out of his hands impatiently. “I bought the ticket with my personal account. My father does not know it exists. The money is… my own.”

Jesse only raises his eyebrows in response. He wonders if Genji steals his father’s product and deals to his friends on the side.

“Don’t mock me for this,” Genji says, his eyes lowered shyly, and Jesse wonders what could possibly embarrass Genji Shimada, frequenter of love hotels. “I have a part-time job.”

The answer is so normal Jesse almost laughs, but he stops himself before he injures Genji’s pride. Where Jesse grew up, eighteen year olds whodidn’t have part-time jobs were the ones who got mocked. Got called lazy. Got called deadbeats. Got called “Jesse McCree, when are you ever going to get your life together and stop running around with that gang? You’re making your mother sick with worry!”

Genji continues, hurrying to explain himself, “I was spending a lot of time at the arcade, and one day I saw they had a help wanted sign, so I talked to the owner about it. I knew my father would never approve…” Genji gets a little bit of a glint in his eye. “Maybe that’s why I applied in the first place.”

This time, Jesse can’t stop himself from laughing. “My God, what a rebel,” he says. “Standing up to your mean ol’ dad by becoming a respectable citizen.”

Genji starts to laugh too. “I told you not to mock me,” he chides, faking a pout.

In a moment of brotherly affection, Jesse jumps onto the gross love hotel bed and squishes Genji. “I’ll mock you all I want,” he says, and tickles Genji’s ribs ruthlessly.

Genji starts crying almost immediately. “Stop! Stop!” He’s gasping out laughter, but he manages to tell Jesse: “You smell really bad! You’re so sweaty!”

Jesse rolls off the bed, offended. “I wouldn’t be so sweaty if you hadn’t almost killed me via automobile incident so many times.”

“I am a very good driver!” Genji protests, voice muffled because he’s busy wiping tears off his face. “You need to shower.”

“Well if you’d get out of my room, maybe I could,” Jesse points out, raising an eyebrow.

For a moment Genji glares at him from the bed, then he sighs and gets to his feet. “Fine,” he says. “I guess I will see you tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Jesse calls, just as Genji gets to the door. Jesse shuffles a little in place. “Thank you, Genji. Thank you for doing this for me.”

Genji looks thoughtful for a moment, then he grins. “It was fun,” he says, and then he leaves.

Jesse wanders into the shower grumbling to himself about how helping him evade certain death shouldn’t be fun.

He spends a half-hour under the spray of hot water, and he would spend more, just to pass the time until his flight, except that he’s used to taking five minute showers and he actually finds it boring to be confined in that little space with nothing to distract him but his own thoughts. He tries singing a little, but the acoustics make him sound really loud, and he gets paranoid about people walking by in the hallway somehow being able to hear him even through the soundproofing.

Jesse’d dragged his whole suitcase into the bathroom earlier instead of digging out his shaving kit, so he takes his time brushing his teeth, towelling off, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, and generally dicking around.

When he finally unlocks the bathroom door and gets back in his room he’s managed to kill… about an hour. He still has about seven hours until he needs to get to the airport. He wonders if the hotel TV will let him watch anything other than porn.

It’s because he’s staring at the blank TV screen that he sees the silent figure move in behind him, raising a hand.

Jesse drops to a crouch, narrowly avoiding the arm that’s reaching out to incapacitate him, and twists his body to tackle his assailant to the ground. Jesse’s still wearing nothing but his boxers, doesn’t have a gun on him, doesn’t have a gun anywhere within his reach, which is fucking stupid. He should never have let his guard down.

The attacker slips out of Jesse’s clumsy grip like an eel, landing in a graceful crouch, while Jesse’s momentum leaves him much less gracefully on his hands and knees.

In the light spilling from the bathroom Jesse can make out his attacker’s face.

It’s Hanzo.

Jesse’s heart stops for a moment. Then, when Hanzo starts moving, it kicks into overdrive, adrenaline flooding Jesse’s system. He springs to his feet, determined not to let Hanzo get the jump on him.

Hanzo has trained in various martial arts and with various weapons his whole life. Jesse’s the quickest draw he knows and a damn good shot, but his only hand-to-hand training is in bar fights.

He has two advantages, as far as he can see: the first is that Hanzo’s not using a weapon, and the second is that he seems to be aiming to incapacitate Jesse, not to kill him. If Jesse had a moment to ponder the situation he’d definitely wonder about that, but as it is - Hanzo strikes like a snake and all Jesse can do is recoil, trying to avoid being hit.

The room isn’t big enough for Jesse to keep fighting like that, but at the same time, that might be an advantage for him. The love hotel isn’t a dojo; there’s furniture, there’s close walls. Back Hanzo into a corner and maybe Jesse can use his superior weight and height to pin him down, but…

He can’t concentrate on strategy when Hanzo’s flying at him with all the fury and grace of an enraged cat. For lack of better options, Jesse puts his dukes up.

The fight is - messy. Jesse jabs a punch at Hanzo just as a warning, trying to make Hanzo keep his distance, but Hanzo latches onto his arms and pulls Jesse in. They end up grappling each other around the shoulders, legs spread wide for balance.

Hanzo kicks one of Jesse’s legs out from under him, but the momentum of their fall leaves Jesse on top, using his weight to keep Hanzo’s arms down. They’re both already panting.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jesse gasps out, searching Hanzo’s face. He can’t see anything in his expression but anger.

Hanzo slides a leg between Jesse’s and flips them in a move that almost seems effortless. All of the air in Jesse’s lungs hisses out of him as his back slams into the floor. He stares up at Hanzo, mouth hanging open.

“My father told me to kill you,” Hanzo growls. He lets go of Jesse’s wrists to slip his hands around his throat, but Jesse gets an elbow in his stomach before he can apply enough pressure. It takes three successive punches before Hanzo finally groans and rolls off him, giving Jesse room to back up, crawl to his feet again.

“You think if you kill me, your dad’s gonna magically start loving you?” Jesse spits, and - he probably shouldn’t have. Hanzo leaps at him, snarling. It’s a sloppy move, and Jesse sidesteps, using the force of the motion to push Hanzo up against the wall. “He’s never going to love you,” Jesse hisses into Hanzo’s ear, bending one arm against his back painfully.

“You do not know that!” Hanzo roars, thrashing. But Jesse’s bigger than Hanzo, even if he’s not necessarily stronger, and physics are on his side here. Hanzo tries his trick again, looking to loop his ankle around Jesse’s leg, but Jesse’s caught on to that play, has built up a counter.

Hanzo goes abruptly limp, but Jesse doesn’t fall for it. He increases the pressure rather than giving into his instinct to relax his grip. They stand there, nothing between them but their harsh breathing.

It reminds Jesse, in a sudden, aching moment of clarity, of the two of them wrestling in the water at the artificial beach.

He resists the urge to lean his head forward onto Hanzo’s shoulder, wary of being headbutted, but he does allow himself to say, “God, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

He’s a sappy goddamn fool.

“I guess there are a lot of things you do not want to do with me,” Hanzo growls.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Jesse asks him, but instead of answering Hanzo starts struggling again.

He jerks so violently in Jesse’s grip that he wrenches one of Jesse’s arms. Jesse draws back without thinking about it, trying to distance himself from the source of the pain. Hanzo reverses their positions for a second time, pinning Jesse’s hands to the wall on either side of his head.

Jesse expects this to be the moment where Hanzo finally closes his hands around Jesse’s windpipe and fulfills his duty to his father.

Instead, Hanzo stares at Jesse, and his expression is less violent hate and more… lost.

“I hate you,” he whispers. There’s not enough conviction behind it for Jesse to believe him.

“You’re not the one who should be angry here. You made me believe you… wanted me,” Jesse snaps back. “Just to get me to sign a contract. Your daddy asked you to be his little whore and you did it!”

Hanzo releases one of Jesse’s wrists to slap him across the face.

Somewhere beyond the shock of the sting Jesse realizes that he could use his free hand to knock Hanzo down, to incapacitate him, to buy himself time to go get Genji for backup, or to flee the hotel altogether.

He doesn’t. He’s still agonizingly, magnetically drawn to Hanzo. Even now, when he should hate him for betraying him, he can’t look away.

“How dare you,” Hanzo says, low and dangerous, the hand that slapped Jesse splaying across his collarbone and pushing him back against the wall. “I did nothing for my father. You came into my home… You spent three days doing nothing but flirting with me… You sent me,” Hanzo’s cheeks flush red, and he grits his teeth angrily against it, “a picture of your penis. And then… you left.”

“Your father threatened to kill me,” Jesse points out, anger surging in him. He’s not sure how Hanzo thinks he’s going to paint Jesse as the bad guy, here. Jesse’s done falling for Hanzo’s tricks.

“My father is Genji’s father too, but I have seen that you do not hate him,” Hanzo spits.

“When Genji heard your dad wanted me dead, he didn’t try to convince me to stay by fucking me,” Jesse throws back with equal venom.

“You think I had some kind of evil plot! You think I was laying a trap, that all along I was doing what my father wanted me to!” Hanzo’s shouting now, right up in Jesse’s face. “I did not know, Jesse! I had no idea that you would be so offended by my father’s crimes! I thought you had done your research!”

For a moment, Jesse is cowed. Naïve. People keep telling him that.

Hanzo’s eyes drop, for just a split second, to Jesse’s lips. “When I came to your room,” his voice is so much quieter, slower. “I thought that you and I would…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence. Jesse’s the one who sent the texts.

“So your excuse is that you didn’t mean to hurt me, you’re just a bad person,” Jesse growls.

Hanzo lifts his chin defiantly, meets Jesse’s gaze sharply. “You did not think so before.”

“Human trafficking is wrong,” Jesse says flatly, amazed that he needs to point this out.

“I have no control over that,” Hanzo answers defensively.

“You will, someday. You gonna do something about it?”

There’s a brief pause.

“I don’t know.” Hanzo looks lost when he says it, his gaze lowered, fixated on his hand against Jesse’s bare chest.

He looks young, suddenly. He’s twenty-one. He’s the son of a crime lord. He doesn’t leave the compound that often. ”He’s never going to love you.”

”You don’t know that."

Jesse starts to feel it: that ache again. The one that’s becoming familiar. And its ol’ pal. Virgin.

“Hanzo,” Jesse says, all of the anger drained out of him. Hanzo’s father sent him here to kill Jesse, and he hasn’t. He never even tried, not really. He could have killed Jesse when he was singing in the shower, or when he was carefully manicuring his beard, or when Hanzo snuck up behind him. He hadn’t even had a weapon.

“When you texted me,” Jesse begins to ask, hesitant. He’s not sure he wants to know the truth, not sure if he can trust the answer Hanzo gives him. “Were you lying?”

He can tell by the colour rising in Hanzo’s face that he understands exactly what Jesse’s asking. “No.” His voice is soft.

Jesse raises a hand, threading the ends of Hanzo’s hair through his fingers gently. “Your father told you to get to know me,” he says, because he knows that for sure.

“My father told me to give you a tour of the gardens the first day you were here,” Hanzo replies.

“That’s it?” Jesse asks. “What did you tell him? Does he know about the beach? About the messages?” His voice remains soft, but he needs to know.

“I told him about the beach, because he wanted to know why I came home so late. I told him I was getting to know you for the sake of our alliance.” Hanzo tilts his head to one side, eyes dropping down to Jesse’s lips again. “I was lying, then. Not to you, to him.”

Jesse lets out a short breath, trying to keep his head. He’s been in this exact same position with Hanzo before, admiring the sweep of his eyelashes.

“I didn’t tell him about the messages,” Hanzo whispers. Their little secret.

“How did he know, then? About us?”

Hanzo’s eyes drop to the floor. His face twists into something ugly, a scowl. “He suspects that I’m fucking every man who stays on the compound.”

Jesse’s heart stings, sudden and painful. “You’re not,” he says, and it’s a statement, but there’s a question in there, too. A request for confirmation.

“You were the first one I wanted to,” Hanzo breathes.

A virgin.

Jesse kisses him, finally. After days that have felt like weeks, stretched thin and taut with longing, Jesse dips his head and presses his lips against Hanzo’s.

Jesse goes gentle, slow, as he runs his tongue across the seam of Hanzo’s lips, but Hanzo makes a noise in his throat, opens his mouth, presses forward. Brings the hand that was pressed to Jesse’s chest up to cradle Jesse’s jaw, urging him closer.

Hanzo is needy, demanding. Jesse can feel himself starting to sweat.

Hanzo licks his way into Jesse’s mouth, sends shivers through Jesse’s core, presses him back against the wall with his insistence. Jesse’s legs fall open all on their own and Hanzo fits himself neatly in between. There’s nothing shy in the way he presses their hips together, and Jesse can feel Hanzo’s dick through his pants.

Jesse drops his head back, gasping for air. Hanzo nuzzles at his exposed jaw, his neck.

“I want to see,” Hanzo murmurs against Jesse’s skin. His fingers are hovering at the hem of Jesse’s boxers.

Jesse’s stomach drops. “You already saw,” he teases, trying to pretend Hanzo isn’t fucking destroying him.

Hanzo presses his face a little more firmly into Jesse’s neck, tilts his head a little so his lips brush against Jesse’s ear when he says, “I want to touch.”

Jesse moans helplessly. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says. Hanzo’s fingers are still flirting around his waistline, but Jesse pushes them away gently.

Hanzo looks up at him, wide-eyed and stung. Jess realizes there’s a parallel here, between this moment and a very unpleasant one they’d had before.

“Hush, darlin’,” Jesse whispers, though Hanzo hasn’t said a thing. “It ain’t fair - me in my undies, and you all dressed up…” He trails off, plucking at the collar of Hanzo’s yukata - less formal than the ones he wore on the compound, and cut shorter down his thighs, with pants underneath. All black. Assassin’s clothes.

Jesse smiles idiotically against the crown of Hanzo’s head. Hanzo’s daddy thinks he’s killing Jesse right now. God, but he is, in the best possible way.

Hanzo makes quick work of his clothes, dropping his shirt, unbuttoning his pants.

“Where’s the fire?” Jesse teases, eyes taking in every inch of skin that gets bared.

Hanzo makes an exasperated face at him, but instead of answering he pushes Jesse firmly back against the wall and kisses him again, and again, and again.

Jesse considers himself thoroughly chastised.

His hands drift to Hanzo’s hips, then slide back. This time he’s the one whose fingers are dipping just past the elastic of Hanzo’s underwear. Hanzo breaks off from his aggressive kissing; Jesse can feel a shiver run through him.

The first person to touch him there. Jesse feels unaccountably emotional for a moment. He distracts himself by slipping his hands down, grabbing two handfuls of Hanzo’s bare ass. Hanzo lets out a little startled noise, ducking his head to hide the way he turns red.

“Aw, come on,” Jesse mutters, his voice hoarse. “Look at me, darlin’.”

Hanzo does; he raises his chin in that defiant way Jesse’s come to know so well, and it feels like his heart is swelling in his chest.

“Gorgeous,” Jesse whispers, one hand abandoning its post to tuck a stray piece of hair back behind Hanzo’s ear. Hanzo makes a quiet noise of protest, but the way he looks up at Jesse, lit only by the stream of light that’s falling in from the bathroom, hair messy from their fight, eyelashes long, cheekbones high and sloping, bare skin all the way down his torso -

It’s undeniable. Hanzo is so fucking gorgeous. Jesse kisses him again, because he can, and the fact that he can makes his heart surge in his chest, so he does it twice.

And then Jesse turns his head a little, rubbing his nose against Hanzo’s temple, and tells him, soft and sweet, “Baby, I’m gonna make you come.”

Hanzo breathes in sharply; his hand, resting on Jesse’s shoulder, tightens its grip.

Jesse allows the hand tucked in the back of Hanzo’s boxer to wander to the front, dragging teasingly across Hanzo’s skin. Hanzo squirms, and Jesse wonders if Hanzo’s ticklish, smiles at the thought. He pulls his head back, wanting to see Hanzo’s face as he finally closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick.

Hanzo gasps like the breath’s been punched out of him. Jesse can’t help the smirk that tilts the corners of his lips up. He takes a moment to pull Hanzo’s boxers down, and they both look down at Hanzo’s dick. Jesse wraps his hand around it again, makes a show of pumping up and down while they both watch.

“Feel good?” Jesse drawls, into the intense silence of the room.

Hanzo looks up at him. His eyes are half-lidded with pleasure, his mouth wet and open like he’s shocked at how it feels. Jesse’d thought he’d been keeping his cool up til then, but with Hanzo staring at him like that - his dick twitches in his boxers and he closes his eyes, swallowing a deep, almost pained noise.

“Look at me,” Hanzo pants at him, echoing his words from earlier. A hapless smile spreads across Jesse’s face as he obeys, utterly fucking besotted.

And then Hanzo really takes initiative: he slides his hands down Jesse’s waist, pushes his boxers down his thighs. He looks, and Jesse momentarily forgets that he’s supposed to be giving a handjob. That sharp gaze is fixed on him, and it’s not the first time Hanzo’s seen his dick, but even that is making it harder to breathe.

Just having Hanzo’s eyes on him makes Jesse’s dick pulse. Jesse moans a little, half from embarrassment and half from being so fucking turned on.

He lets Hanzo study his dick for a few minutes before he starts making impatient little noises. Hanzo raises an eyebrow at him, drawing out another sappy grin. It dies an abrupt death when Hanzo puts his hand on Jesse’s dick.

His grip is tentative, feeling the shape of it, thumb gliding delicately over the head, smearing the precome gathered there. It feels so fucking good Jesse wants to cry.

“God,” he whispers, and he’d be happy to let Hanzo touch him soft and gentle like that all day, only he wants to come, and he wants to come with Hanzo. He wants them to come together.

He loops the hand that’s not still weakly grasping Hanzo’s dick around Hanzo’s back and pulls him forward a few steps. He presses their erections together, opening his hand to encompass both of them.

Hanzo makes a muted noise at the sensation, his unoccupied hand tightening once again on Jesse’s shoulder. His other hand moves over to Jesse’s hip, giving Jesse more room to spread his fingers. Jesse latches his mouth onto Hanzo’s throat, kisses softly, sucks at the skin.

He starts to stroke the two of them, his owns eyes fluttering shut at how good it feels. He wishes he could watch Hanzo’s face while he does this, but the noises are already too much. Hanzo’s breath is stuttering, both of his hands clenching convulsively on Jesse’s skin. Jesse lifts his mouth to breathe against Hanzo’s ear.

“You sound so good,” he whispers. Hanzo lets out a groan. Jesse’s not sure if it’s from the barely-there stimulation against his ear, or because Jesse’s picking up the pace with his hand, adjusting his grip to be a little firmer, a little tighter.

“I -” Hanzo gasps, trying to speak, but he can’t seem to catch his breath. Jesse releases his grip on the both of them, and Hanzo’s eyes fall open, looking for an answer.

Jesse closes his hand again around just Hanzo. He drags his thumb torturously across the sensitive area under the head. Hanzo’s mouth drops open. Jesse moves his hand up and down, slow and tight.

Hanzo’s hips buck. Jesse’s about to open his mouth, tease him a little more, but - Hanzo’s already coming, hot and wet on Jesse’s stomach.

Jesse’s dick pulses in sympathy, heat burning through him at the sight of it; Hanzo’s grimacing like he’s in pain, teeth grit and utterly silent. Jesse keeps stroking him through, keeps stroking him until Hanzo groans, pushes his hands away, drops forward bonelessly onto Jesse’s shoulder.

“You okay, darlin’?” Jesse asks, low and teasing. Hanzo makes a weak noise against Jesse’s shoulder. Jesse kisses his temple.

With Hanzo still leaning against him like that, Jesse grasps his own dick, starts to touch himself.

“Hanzo,” he murmurs. Hanzo turns his head on Jesse’s shoulder, an acknowledgement. “When I was texting you,” he begins, voice slow and thick as molasses, “Where were you?”

Hanzo buries his face back into Jesse’s neck. “Osaka,” he whispers.

“With your dad?”

“Yes.”

“You touched yourself?” Jesse prompts, hand already speeding up, stomach already tense with excitement.

“Yes,” Hanzo breathes, and Jesse’s getting ready to ask another question, to play twenty questions, but Hanzo continues, “I read your messages under the table at the restaurant we were eating lunch at. When you sent the picture I went to the washroom.”

Jesse closes his eyes, his hand fast and tight, his tongue wetting his dry lips, his stomach clenching.

“I locked the door,” Hanzo tells him, step-by-step, “I touched myself. I thought of this. I looked at the picture and I wanted to touch you.”

Jesse groans as he comes, loud and long. He grips himself tight, riding the waves of his orgasm, and Hanzo kisses his neck.

He feels exhausted afterwards, like he hasn’t slept in years.

He manhandles Hanzo over to the bed, pushes him in under the covers.

For a moment there’s a look of doubt on Hanzo’s face, like he knows he’s supposed to be saying that he shouldn’t stay - but he doesn’t say it. Jesses climbs in after him, spoons up behind him. He thinks that he should have set an alarm. He has a plane to catch.

He can’t think about that. Not with Hanzo’s breath already deepening, warm in his arms. Not with sleep blacking out his peripheral vision, filling his sight with nothing but Hanzo, his inky black hair spreading across the sheets, achingly beautiful.

Notes:

warmsierramist@twitter (takes place in the Darkest Timeline where hanzos dad has seen mccree's dick pic... bone-chilling... i love it, i love it, i love this art) almadraws@twitter (godddd.... sometimes the only way to cope with an awful, heartbreaking scene in a fic is to lovingly draw it out in beautiful detail i guess lmfao THIS IS PAINFUL TO LOOK AT and i love it.) almadraws@twitter (MULTIPLE!!! CAN U BELIEVE.... genjis shirt is so good, and, this picture is good, i LOVE genji saying lmao out loud, fucking same) rokudo@twitter (this piece of art, is beautiful, and i love it, but i keep picturing hanzo saying "oh jesse, if only somebody loved you" which actually, would be better dialogue than whatever i wrote in my fic, didnt frozen win an oscar, ive never even seen that movie) badookie@tumblr (beach party mccree and hanzo....... im so emotional about the painstaking accuracy of their outfits tbh and ALSO it wasnt like expressly written but actually yes you were supposed to be visualizing genji wearing a naruto forehead protector in the beach party scene, so if you weren't please go back and re-read, thanks. I LOVE THIS ARt....)

 Tips for Expanding Your Business On An International Scale

013

Chapter 6: these violent delights have violent ends Summary:

first 2200-ish words are porn sorry :^) then there's some plot.

Notes:

thank you for reading

the best way to contact me is twitter.com/broyaji. if you'd prefer to contact me anonymously my personal blog is banken-man.tumblr.com

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Jesse wakes all wrapped up around Hanzo.

Despite getting off enthusiastically the night before, his dick is hard and throbbing against Hanzo’s hip. Hanzo’s still asleep, as far as Jesse can tell.

He strokes one hand down Hanzo’s bare arm, nuzzles his face a little deeper against Hanzo’s warm shoulder.

“Your beard feels unpleasant,” Hanzo says. Jesse can’t help the way he smiles at that.

With one hand on Hanzo’s shoulder Jesse rolls Hanzo onto his back, straddles his hips. Looks down at him. He’s caught up all over again in admiring all of Hanzo’s sharp, angular features. He lifts a hand to trace over the line of Hanzo’s cheekbone, then the thick cut of his eyebrow. Hanzo’s face reddens under the attention.

“Mornin’, darlin’,” Jesse purrs, voice deepened by the clinging grasp of sleep and his accent syrup-thick. Hanzo seems to become aware of Jesse’s hardness in that moment. He pushes his hips up experimentally, just a hint of pressure.

It makes Jesse gasp, his own hips arching into the friction. He brings his mouth down to Hanzo’s ear, kissing the shell of it, his breaths coming heavy.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Hanzo asks, soft and shy. Jesse can feel the way the words make his face heat where his nose makes contact with Hanzo’s skin. The way Hanzo’s voice drops, gets quieter like his mouth doesn’t fit quite right around the expletive makes his heart clench. He wants to ask, Who taught you a word like that?

It was probably Genji.

“Baby, I’m gonna make love to you,” Jesse promises, breathy and fucking romantic. He continues kissing behind Hanzo’s ear, moves his lips down to his jaw, his neck. His hand is on Hanzo’s thigh, conveniently bared by the cut of Hanzo’s boxers. The sensations make Hanzo gasp, his eyes already losing focus. He’s so good; he’s so fucking good, and Jesse could never deserve this.

“Please do not say that,” Hanzo murmurs, trying to kill the mood even as his legs are falling open under Jesse’s caresses.

“Which part?” Jesse asks, teasing. “You don’t like me calling you baby?” He runs his fingers lightly over Hanzo’s chest. “Or you don’t like making love?” He kisses Hanzo’s collarbones through a grin.

“Both,” Hanzo replies, his tone flat, at first, and then breaking when Jesse bites gently at his skin.

“Okay,” Jesse allows, easy. He leans back, gazing down at Hanzo from above. “I’m gonna make you feel good, though,” he says, like it’s a warning. Then, as he strokes a thumb over one of Hanzo’s nipples he whispers, “Darlin’.” His other hand finally stops teasing, closes around Hanzo’s dick, strokes once, twice, and he whispers, “Honey.” He leans down and presses his lips against Hanzo’s, and against his lips he whispers, “Sweetheart.”

Hanzo is so immediately responsive to the stimulation Jesse gives him. He takes deep, shuddering breaths, he shifts his hips, he arches his back.

Jesse hates to leave him, but he rolls out of bed anyway.

“Where are you going?” Hanzo asks, eyes snapping open as he sits bolt upright.

“Don’t you worry,” Jesse mutters. He’s on his knees digging through his suitcase. It takes him a long, frustrating minute to find his bottle of lube. He stumbles back over to the bed, rifles through the drawer of the side table. It’s a love hotel: there are condoms of every size provided. For a whimsical - perhaps foolish - moment, he toys with grabbing the largest.

He picks out the appropriate size, instead. Safe sex is no joke.

When he fits himself back into the vee of Hanzo’s legs, he finds that he’s ruined the mood a little with his practicality. He smiles ruefully, ducks his head a little. Resumes his lazy kisses. Hanzo remains recalcitrant against him for almost a minute, but all Jesse has to do is slide his hand back up Hanzo’s thigh before his legs are yielding open again. He’s so easy it sends shocks of pleasure down Jesse’s spine.

Maybe after last night he’s not exactly a virgin anymore. But when Jesse closes his hand around Hanzo’s dick again and hears that wounded little gasp, feels the tension in his spine, Jesse’s brain starts chanting it all over again. A virgin, and now, something new: Mine.

Jesse probably couldn’t stop kissing Hanzo if he tried. He has an agenda, knows at some point he’ll have to draw back, take stock of the situation, move on, but right now he’s in this haze of contentment, chest full of this glowing heat that occasionally sparks when Hanzo does something clever with his tongue - God, he’s a quick learner - or rubs his thigh - probably by accident - against Jesse’s groin.

He lifts his head, tries to steady his breathing. It sounds easy in theory, but when he pulls away Hanzo makes a soft, disappointed noise and opens his eyes little, gazing blearily up at Jesse through his eyelashes. Jesse groans, but he forces himself to sit back.

“I’d love to lie in bed with you all day,” he murmurs, opening the foil condom packet. Hanzo gaze sharpens as he watches, and he shifts against the sheets. Jesse thinks he must be nervous. He rolls the condom onto Hanzo’s dick wondering if sex has ever made him feel so ridiculously tender before. “But I gotta leave, so we better get this show on the road.”

And the thing about that is - it must have been the wrong thing to say, because Hanzo goes absolutely still under him. It’s possible that he even stops breathing.

“You’re going?” Hanzo asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

Jesse hadn’t been thinking much about it, but the sadness of it hits him right then. “I gotta,” he says, brushing a strand of hair behind Hanzo’s ear. With a bitter smile, he reminds Hanzo, “Your daddy’s still out to kill me.”

Hanzo frowns this awful, fierce, thoughtful frown that turns his eyebrows into angry slants. Then he surges up out of the bed, catches his arms around Jesse’s shoulders, and pulls him down for one of the most intense kisses Jesse’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

It goes on, and then it goes on a little longer, and then Jesse realizes they’re in danger of falling into that same hazy trance as before, so he pulls back again and flicks open the cap of the lube. Hanzo’s attention zeroes in on it immediately.

“I thought that you would be the one to -” He can’t quite seem to finish the thought, cheeks reddening a little.

Jesse can’t quite figure out what the best answer would be. We don’t have enough time is too callous, would kill the mood all over. I wanted your first time to be as pleasant as possible would probably scare Hanzo off fingering, which definitely isn’t what he wants.

I really like taking it up the ass would just make him sound slutty. Which he is, but. Well.

Jesse elects not to answer, instead shifting back onto his knees and spreading his legs. It’s probably a good thing Hanzo can’t see what he’s doing from this angle, because he’s definitely rushing it and that’s not the ideal way to teach by example.

It feels good anyway, and Jesse’s mouth drops open as he works his fingers in. Hanzo’s eyes smoulder darkly as they dart from the slackness of his jaw to the movement of his arm.

“Does it hurt?” Hanzo asks, voice rough. He’s started stroking himself a little.

Jesse clenches his jaw against a whine, has to close his eyes. “God, no,” he breathes. Having Hanzo watch him makes the stretch so much better, makes the elusivity of that angle irrelevant, because he feels like he could come just from this, just from having those eyes fixed on him.

He’s getting a little carried away. He eases his fingers out, opens his eyes, blinks a few times. “It hurts when you’re not used to it,” he amends. “If you don’t know what you’re doing. You have to be careful.” Hanzo’s a virgin. Jesse shouldn’t lead him astray.

Hanzo’s half lidded eyes tell him he’s not really listening anyway, isn’t viewing this as a learning opportunity. His hand has unconsciously started moving a little faster on his dick. Jesse feels very pleased with himself.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, solicitous. He remembers that he promised he wouldn’t call Hanzo baby. Hanzo doesn’t seem like he’s even noticed. He’s nodding, planting his feet against the sheets. The pace of his breathing has picked up. Jesse can see it in the rise and fall of his chest.

Once again, that feeling that he could never deserve this, that overwhelming tenderness. Jesse closes his eyes against it. He settles himself carefully over Hanzo’s hips. He positions Hanzo’s dick. When he finally eases the head of it in, his eyes snap open.

The look on Hanzo’s face is - lost. Astonished. Anguished. When Jesse eases himself further down, Hanzo throws his head to his side, eyes shut tight. Jesse’s insides are clenching around Hanzo, and he knows it’s probably bordering on overwhelming, but he can’t stop himself. It’s been so long since he’s been properly fucked. And God, he’s going to - he’s not going to waste this opportunity.

He sinks himself down fully and lets out this full-throated moan at the exact same time as Hanzo keens like he’s in pain. And then, when Jesse’s not expecting it - Hanzo’s been so placid, so docile, lying there and being so good - Hanzo suddenly fucks his hip up wild and desperate. He impales Jesse so deep that Jesse curls forward gasping for air, shocks of pleasure shooting through him like electricity.

“Christ, Hanzo,” he pants, and Hanzo looks at him, wide-eyed, just as stunned, and then he does it again.

Over and over, Hanzo bucks, using his feet on the bed for leverage, hands twisting in the sheets, and what can Jesse do but ride him, take it, yell every time the angle hits that spot, that spot he can’t reach with his fingers, God, this is everything he’d hoped it would be, virgin, virgin, virgin,but in all things Hanzo is proud, shockingly strong, indomitable.

Jesse’s starting to wonder if that tender feeling that keeps filling him up is some kind of close relative to love, which he’s sure would horrify him if he could fucking think, but he can’t, so instead he bends his body into some awkward, unsatisfying angle because God help him, he just wants to kiss Hanzo.

It doesn’t last, though, not this time, because Jesse misses the way he felt so full before, so he sits himself back up, and when Hanzo slots back into place, warm, full, deep, fitting perfectly into him, Jesse throws back his head in pleasure.

“Jesse,” Hanzo groans.

It hits Jesse like a lightning bolt, it makes him clench and shudder and convulse on Hanzo’s dick, it makes precum spill out of him. He never knew hearing his own name could elicit pleasure like that, but it does, and he wants to hear it again, wants to hear Hanzo desperate, blatant in his wanting, wants to know that it’s because of him.

“Jesse,” Hanzo starts to chant, just his name over and over. His hips are starting to stutter and Jesse knows he must be close, and he doesn’t want this to end but it has to, and when it does it’s gonna be fucking glorious.

So he takes himself in hand and jerks off quickly, only has to stroke himself a few times, the feeling of it a counterpoint to Hanzo’s jack rabbiting hips, the flex and grind of them as he keeps trying to push himself deeper, and Jesse can’t stand how good it feels.

He comes, body rigid, crying out ridiculously loudly, and thank God they’re in a love hotel, actually, with its soundproof walls, because Jesse’s coming like he’s in a porno, throwing his head back and bouncing his hips and shouting Hanzo’s name.

Jesse looks down and sees Hanzo’s eyes fixed on him, a look of awe on his face. There’s a muscle in his jaw twitching and his fists are knotting the sheets and that’s when Jesse realizes Hanzo’s coming too, his hips pressed flush to Jesse’s ass and making tiny movements, not much more than muscle spasms. He’s buried deep, so deep, and it makes Jesse start groaning all over again.

In the aftermath he finds himself wondering: is it sad that it was Hanzo’s first time, and this is still the best sex he’s ever had?

Hanzo’s a quick learner, though. The concession must be made.

Jesse pulls himself off of Hanzo in one move and flops backwards onto the bed. He thinks he would be happy to never move again.

Apparently Hanzo doesn’t feel the same way. He sits up, back alarmingly straight considering the rigorous exercise they’ve just been through. He pulls off the condom and then, to Jesse’s horror, he gets out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jesse asks. He wishes he sounded less forlorn. He’s never considered himself the clingy type, but he’s barely even been allowed three minutes of afterglow.

“I am going to shower,” Hanzo says. He shuts the bathroom door behind him. Jesse feels - stunned. First of all, Hanzo’s not the one who’s asshole is still wet with lube. Very rude. Very bad sex etiquette.

Maybe Jesse’s fucked up somehow. That would be pretty par for the course. He’s just not sure… He’d thought he’d done pretty well. He’d been pretty satisfied with his performance.

He’s lying there agonizing about it when there’s a knock on the door. Jesse glances at the clock on the bedside table. It’s half past eight. He’s also not wearing any pants, or underwear, and, actually, now that he’s taking stock of the situation his ass is still gross and sticky. He closes his eyes and breathes a deep, anguished sigh.

“Room service!” Calls the person at the door. There are several problems with that. One of them is that Jesse hasn’t ordered any room service. One of them is that the person behind the door has somehow intuited that he speaks English. Yet another is that he’s fairly sure that love hotels don’t have room service.

Jesse gingerly gets out of bed and pulls on the boxers he’d discarded earlier. On the bright side of things, he’s not walking with a limp.

He puts on the most deprecating look he can muster as he pulls the door open. Genji’s modelling some truly radical bedhead and still wearing the clothes he wore in the car yesterday.

“Just wake up?” Jesse asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m eighteen,” Genji explains, waving an arm. “I never wake up before noon unless my life depends on it.” That comment would probably be a little funnier if it hadn’t been for the fact that Genji’s father would kill them both if he found them.

Genji cocks his head to one side suddenly. “There’s someone in your shower,” he says, uncertain. As if he’s not sure Jesse’s aware.

Jesse shuffles his feet awkwardly. “Your brother followed us here.” It seems weird that Genji has no idea. Last night feels like it was years ago. He can’t believe he was grappling with Hanzo in this hotel room less than twelve hours ago.

Genji’s eyes fall, unfortunately, onto the mussed bed sheets. He makes a weird face like he can’t decide what kind of expression he wants to use. Jesse can feel his face going red. There’s no way he’s going to be able to deny what happened here.

“Okay,” Genji says. He carefully averts his eyes, staring blankly at the door Jesse is still holding open. “Well. We should. Get ready. And head out to the airport. I was thinking around nine. See you then.”

And Genji leaves. Jesse feels even worse than he did before. He’s somehow fucked up and made Hanzo mad (is he mad? Or is it some other emotion? Jesse can’t tell) and now he’s alienated Genji too. At least he can be certain what he did wrong in Genji’s books.

It had sort of seemed yesterday like Genji wanted Jesse and Hanzo to… Get along? Make up? He’d given Hanzo the address of the last hotel, after all.

Then again, getting along didn’t necessarily mean fucking each others’ brains out. Which Jesse can’t even be happy about, because Hanzo’s still locked in the bathroom, and God, how long has he been in there, anyway? Jesse’s ass is starting to dry and the lube is getting uncomfortable and with each second that passes he’s starting to feel closer to a temper tantrum.

When Hanzo finally emerges from behind the closed door, a cloud of steam wafting all around him, he's dressed again - in the same clothes as last night, but you couldn't tell that by looking at him. His hair is drawn back into a sleek ponytail. He looks put-together and sharp-angled; his jaw is tightly clenched.

In short, he's the very picture of restraint. No evidence of what they'd done earlier remains. No sign shows that he's the same man Jesse had under him on the mattress, the one Jesse kissed and kissed and felt tenderly for.

Jesse can't stand to look at him. He pushes past into the bathroom.

His normal five minute shower routine gets stretched into ten as he tries to clean up the mess Hanzo made. He grimaces at himself in the mirror afterwards, brushes his teeth fiercely. He dresses in plain clothes that won't attract attention at the airport, won't get him stopped by security. A white button-up shirt, blue jeans. Yes, he wears cowboy boots with them, but they don't have spurs.

He’ll look like any other American tourist, probably. He shoves all of his belongings back into his suitcase and exits the bathroom.

Hanzo has made the bed. He's probably ashamed, Jesse thinks. He doesn't want anyway to know what happened here. Not even the maids at a love hotel.

Jesse’s chest clenches. This is all he amounts to: another shameful secret for the Shimada clan to hide.

God. He's not gonna let that happen.

“What, are you mad at me?” Jesse snaps, because Hanzo’s standing there by the bed not looking at him.

Hanzo actually winces, as if the words have hurt him. But he doesn't make any reply.

Jesse’s fists clench. He crosses the room in a couple of strides, buries a few fingers in the front of Hanzo’s shirt so he’s forced to look Jesse in the face.

“What do you want from me?” He asks. He’d thought he was angry. The way his voice comes out is just sad.

Hanzo, despite the proximity of their faces, drops his eyes to Jesse’s chin to avoid making eye contact. He's quiet for so long Jesse thinks he's trying to get away with not answering.

Then he says, “It was supposed to change things,” and his voice is so soft. Fragile. This is a confession Jesse has forced out of Hanzo with a fist gripping his shirt.

“What do you mean?” Jesse asks. His voice has gone rough. Hanzo’s eyelashes are drooping. Shame, like always. Frustration. Tears are shining in Hanzo’s eyes. Hadn't Jesse predicted, days and days ago, that Hanzo would be the type to cry out of frustration?

“When I had sex with you,” Hanzo looks up into Jesse’s eyes, suddenly fierce and sharp and edged with anger. “It was supposed to change things. You wanted me to. You wanted me to give you my virginity, so I did. But it didn't change anything.”

Jesse - doesn't know what to say. He doesn't understand. “What was it supposed to change?”

Hanzo pulls out of Jesse’s grip so he can turn away. Jesse can see that he's the one with clenched fists this time.

“You're leaving,” Hanzo says.

“Yeah,” Jesse agrees readily. It had never been up for debate. “As long as your daddy’s around to try and kill me, I can't stay.”

“You're leaving me,” Hanzo clarifies. He half turns his head, glares at Jesse out of the corner of his eye.

Jesse doesn't have any quick draw answer to that. He can't say that he'll come back, he can't say that they'll see each other again someday. Even if they were true he couldn't say them, because they don't fix anything.

They don't fix this, they don't fix anything. This is big and broken. This thing between Hanzo and Jesse - or maybe he's being too self-involved. Maybe it’s Hanzo himself. All that misery and loneliness and self-loathing. Jesse’s leaving it all behind.

“I wish I wasn't,” he says. That doesn't fix anything either.

Still, the corner of Hanzo’s mouth pulls up a little bit. It's not really a smile.

There's a knock on the door. Jesse opens it. Genji takes a good, hard look at Hanzo - who looks spotless, not a hair out of place, dressed to kill in his black clothes - and says nothing. The three of them leave the love hotel in total silence.

In the parking lot, Shimada is waiting for them, with twenty armed guards.

He smiles.

Genji looks at Hanzo. Jesse thinks, What was he doing in the bathroom all that time?

When they were in bed together, there was a moment. Jesse’d said, I’d love to lie in bed with you all day, but I’ve gotta leave. Hanzo had gone still. Stopped moving. And after that, he’d changed. He’d gotten more aggressive. He’d been - distracting.

Jesse is a fucking fool, and he’s been reminded of it constantly the last few days. He keeps falling for these little tricks. It’s gonna be the death of him. Shimada’s standing there with a gun - well, Shimada doesn't have a gun. But his henchmen does.

Ha ha. Jesse’s starting to get a little loopy. Caught up on the details.

Hanzo shifts slightly where he's standing, a few steps ahead of Jesse. He's put himself in the line of fire. On purpose.

Jesse’s eyes catch on Hanzo’s ponytail.

He wants to laugh. A fool.

Hanzo spent that time in the bathroom blow drying his hair.

Now he's putting himself at risk of being shot by his own father to save Jesse’s ungrateful, undeserving ass.

That tender feeling? Fuck it, it’s love. One week is enough. One week is enough to know that Jesse McCree would blow up a country to get back to Hanzo, because it doesn't fix anything but it matters anyway, because it has the chance to make Hanzo smile.

That's so goddamn sappy. That's the most romantic thing Jesse’s ever thought in his life. Shit, it’s love, isn't it?

He pushes Hanzo out of the line of fire and puts his hands up.

Shimada beams, evidently pleased with his obedience. He makes a gesture at Hanzo.

Hanzo’s fists clench again, and by now Jesse knows that means he’s feeling defiant.

“Just do it,” Jesse mutters to him. Hanzo glares.

Genji picks up the slack, folding Jesse’s arms behind his back and making it look really realistic. Which is to say - “Ow, Genji, that hurts.”

“Shut up, prisoner,” Genji breathes, and then marches Jesse over to his father.

“What pleasant surprise,” Shimada says. He doesn’t sound very pleased at all.

The knowledge that he needs to act fast presses persistently and uselessly at the back of Jesse’s mind. He doesn’t have a gun on him. Of course he doesn’t. He’d been on his way to the airport. As far as he can tell, Hanzo isn’t armed either. Jesse’d gotten pretty closely acquainted with that outfit last night, and there were definitely no swords or guns hidden under the fabric.

Genji… Genji’s wearing jeans with little patches sewed on. Jesse recognizes Hello Kitty on the back pocket. There’s also a blonde-haired, blue-eyed anime kid who looks familiar. Little headband across his forehead. Jesse can’t remember what he’s called.

Anyway. Jesse can tell Genji would be worse than useless in a fight. He’d be distracting.

Jesse stands before Shimada, mind racing. He’s slightly bent over from the way Genji’s holding on to him. The grunt beside Shimada begins to raise his gun, aiming for Jesse’s head.

Genji relaxes his grip on Jesse’s arm. Jesse honestly can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not. It doesn’t matter; it’s enough. He breaks his arms free and grabs the gun. One hard tug and the gun comes into Jesse’s possession. One pivot and the gun is pressed tight against Shimada’s temple.

Shimada’s bodyguards all freeze, weapons half-raised.

“If you move, I’ll shoot,” Jesse says. His voice is completely level. This is not his first hostage situation. Beneath the hand gripping Shimada’s shoulder tightly, he can feel the way Shimada’s breaths are short and shallow. The man isn’t immune to fear after all.

Genji’s car is still in the parking lot. Jesse makes eye contact with Genji for a second, twitches his head toward it. Genji hesitates. Jesse has no idea what goes through his mind in that moment. He’s staring at the gun pressed to his father’s head.

Before Jesse can really start to worry about it, Genji climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the engine.

Jesse’s eyes meet Hanzo’s. “Get in the car,” he orders, adjusting his grip on the gun. Hanzo’s eyes, like Genji’s, seem drawn to the point where the muzzle meets Shimada’s greying hair. Hanzo climbs into the passenger seat.

“Time for a family road trip,” Jesse mutters to Shimada. He forces him to turn so that Jesse can keep the bodyguards in his sight while they walk backwards toward the car.

For a moment after the door shuts the four of them sit in silence. It’s like they’re all waiting for a cue. Jesse’s mind is racing. He doesn’t know when the thugs outside are going to start shooting, but he feels like, inevitably, they will.

“It sure would solve a lot of my problems if I blew your brains out,” he tells Shimada conversationally.

In the front seat, Hanzo and Genji both go tense.

He doesn’t understand it. Despite everything, they’re both terrified of their father dying.

“Drive, Genji. I got a plane to catch.” Jesse keeps the gun pressed to Shimada’s head, ready for the first sign that things are going south.

The car lurches into motion. Apparently, stress isn’t good for Genji’s already erratic, dangerous driving.

“Christ, Genji, I’m holding a loaded gun back here,” Jesse gripes. Genji replies with a wordless noise of distress. Right, Jesse probably should have handled that one a bit better.

The car proceeds more or less smoothly out of the parking lot from there, merges into traffic on the street. Jesse tries to carefully divide his attention between keeping the gun trained on Shimada and watching out the back window for signs that the armed guards are following. There’s no doubt in Jesse’s mind that they’ll follow; they’re too loyal, too well-trained to give up on their leader. The question is still how Jesse’s going to get out of this alive.

It occurs to him as the vehicle slows for gridlock traffic. “Hanzo,” he calls. Hanzo turns to face him, brow pinched with anxiety. “Come back here,” he orders.

Once again, Jesse is met with that tense moment of hesitation where he doesn’t know if his order will be followed. The thing about Genji or Hanzo disobeying him is that he won’t shoot them if they do. Shimada rebelling against him is no problem. In fact, it might actually be a relief.

But if Genji stops driving the car, or Hanzo refuses to crawl into the back with him… Then he’s stuck. No back-up plan. Probably doomed to die in Hanamura, the way the Deadlock Gang expects him to.

Hanzo undoes his seatbelt and gingerly moves between the two front seats.

Shimada strikes like a snake, hands grappling at Jesse’s wrist for the gun.

The car erupts into incoherent yelling. Traffic has started moving again, so Genji has to keep his eyes on the road. There’s a loaded, cocked gun being wrestled over in the back seat. Shimada has a grip on Jesse like a pitbull and won’t let go. Hanzo crouches there, frozen with indecision until a stray limb catches him in the face, and he reels back for a moment before launching forward to join the fray properly.

It ends when Jesse gets an elbow in Shimada’s stomach, bending him over double in the seat. Hanzo has the gun. Jesse’s panting. One of them is bleeding, but it’s not clear who.

Hanzo makes eye contact with Jesse over his father’s head. Jesse doesn’t look at the gun. He refuses to look at the gun. If Hanzo’s about to shoot him, he doesn’t want to know.

They stop at a traffic light. Jesse pushes the door beside him open. He seizes Shimada, who’s still clutching at his stomach and wheezing, gets a hand around his collar, and throws him out the door of the car. The man stumbles a few times, completely taken by surprise, and then he trips and falls.

In a few minutes, his henchmen will find him there. They’ll get him back into one of their cars and continue to chase Jesse to the airport. The chances of Jesse making it out of here are still close to zero.

Hanzo practically crawls into Jesse’s lap, staring at his father on the side of the road with his mouth half-open. He turns his head, meets Jesse’s eyes again.

Something like understanding passes between them - it’s only like understanding, because it leaves Jesse totally confused about what’s been understood. It doesn’t matter much, really, because the next thing he knows, Hanzo’s leaning forward a little, pressing their lips together.

Earlier that morning, Jesse’d thought he’d never been kissed so intensely by anyone as he’d been kissed by Hanzo. Now he’s thinking he’s never been kissed so softly.

Maybe that tender feeling is mutual.

Hanzo jumps out of the car. He grabs his father by the arm and drags him off the road, into an alley and out of sight. As he disappears, Jesse sees him pull a phone out of his father’s pocket.

Jesse suddenly realizes what he was supposed to understand from that look. Hanzo’s buying him time.

He pulls the car door closed. Genji starts driving again. There’s a weight in Jesse’s lap. When he inspects it, he finds the gun. Just in case.

Jesse touches his lips like he's trying to feel the impression Hanzo left there. He’ll probably do it again, a week from now, thousands of miles away. He'll probably keep doing it. For months, maybe. Keep trying to remember what it felt like.

He’s going to live through this. He’s going to survive Hanamura. Genji weaves through traffic with the help of his GPS, but he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Jesse keeps looking out the back window, but he doesn’t see anything suspicious at all. No cars following them. No gunfire. Nothing.

That doesn’t mean he can relax. Even when they pull onto the winding drive that leads to the airport, he doesn’t relax. He sits forward in his seat, puts his hand on Genji’s headrest.

“Thank you,” he says. It’s not nearly adequate. Genji’s knuckles are white with the way his hands are clenched upon the steering wheel.

Jesse sighs softly as he pulls away. They stop in the drop-off lane. Before he can shuffle out of the car, leaving the gun behind on the seat, Genji grabs his shoulder.

“It was nice meeting you, Jesse McCree,” Genji says, managing a smile. It’s not the same carefree smile Jesse’d seen at that beach rave party - God, that feels like years ago. But it’s a smile Jesse is glad to return.

“If I’m ever back in Hanamura, I’ll look you up,” he says. Genji laughs.

Jesse gets out of the car. At least half of him expects someone to shoot him dead right there. Nothing happens at all. Genji drives away under the stern instruction of a traffic attendant. Jesse enters the airport and wanders his way toward the departures area.

He approaches the security lineup with no luggage, just the phone Genji gave him in his hand. It has his boarding pass and fake passport information loaded onto it. One of the sleeves of his shirt is stained red with blood. A quick catalogue of his body tells him he's not bleeding, so it must be from somebody else. He has no idea who.

The security officer at the checkpoint takes one look at him and summons someone else - someone who speaks English, he discovers.

Jesse speaks slowly and tries to stomp out his accent to better be understood as he explains: “I took one of them shuttle buses to get here, and I fell asleep on the way.” So far, so good. Nothing too suspicious. Innocuous.

“When the bus stopped I slammed my face into the window and gave myself a nosebleed. I had to use my sleeve to stop the bleeding,” he holds up his arm demonstratively. The security guard grimaces.

“I was so distracted that by the time I realized I didn't have my luggage, the bus was already gone. I can't afford to pay the exchange fee for my ticket, so I need to get on my flight now. Guess I’ll probably never see my suitcase again.”

If I was her, I wouldn't let me through, Jesse thinks glumly to himself.

But he must look as pathetic and hangdog as he feels. The security officer grimaces again - sympathetically, this time - and waves him through.

“You have to do something about that shirt,” she warns him. “They won't let you on the plane if you're covered in blood.”

That seems like a sound general rule. Jesse thanks the officer profusely as he passes to the other side - to safety. Maybe. They won't let Shimada through with weapons, right?

The paranoia doesn't leave him. It probably won't for a long time. Jesse buys a ridiculously expensive shirt with some kind of cute anime character on it from a kiosk aimed at tourists. Genji would get a kick out of it. They should have exchanged numbers. Jesse could have sent him a picture.

In the airport bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror in that special airport bathroom lighting that makes everything look grey, washed out and tired, Jesse gets hit by a crushing wave of sadness. He's trying not to think about - anything. About the words - it was supposed to change things. About other words. Virgin. Mine.

Neither of those words are true now.

Jesse puts the t-shirt on. He throws his old shirt on the garbage. He thumbs the phone on and checks the contacts list. There’s only one name in the address book: Genji.

Jesse takes a picture of himself and that silly anime shirt in the bathroom mirror and sends it.

Forty-five minutes later, he boards his flight. Thirty minutes after that, the plane takes off.

Jesse closes his eyes. One week in Hanamura. He's still alive, but irrevocably changed.

Notes:

thesis: the way the fluorescent lights take everything from you - standing alone in the airport bathroom, nothing left but this lousy t-shirt; to be reshaped by love is a form of violence.

[squeiky]

Like this kind of stuff is why i feel i am too weird to be loved. Which i weird because i know people like me, or mythologize, or demonize me, but "love"? What is love?

Had freinds i thought would stay with me forever, but now we're just strangers. Had stuff toys i thought id never loose but now ill never find them.

Maybe im still dealing with greif. A childish, almost stupidly insignifigant greif, but greif nontheless. Or maybe i've moved on and the feeling just hits back once in awhile.

Would i, a person who purrs, be deemed some mythos creature? Or would i be simply estranged. A person who "purrs". Outcasted weirdo.

I feel like i need to warn people before the get close to me. Infact, i try not to get close to anyone at all.

Like, you live a whole first half of your life being shamed and punished for who you are, and being praised for being someone else. In the end, while i try to recover the fragments of myself, torn asunder by an early age, small questions arrise in my mind like this.

The awnser, is an obvious "yes". I know this, ive seen the internet, i listen to and see how people are comfortable around me.

Yet i guess its like, an inner process thing. Its hard to swap a mindset of self hatred and loathimg, of shame and mockery and disgust to something rather positive. To let myself be a little confident.

Im unsure if people talk about this, about that process. Its always "love yourself!" "Postive self talk!" Or something. It works! Dont get me wrong. The "stick with it till you believe it" shit works for some, yeah. But ive spent a good portion of my life in the habit of playing pretend.

So yeah. Right now im just.. acknowledging that yes. I am a little weird. Obtuse and unknowable. And yes, i do hate PARTS of myself. I understand i am flawed, and as much as i hate to admit it- i am not perfect. But through it all, i am trying, and that effort is worth it, that effort is worth me.

That as i am right now, is okay. Not perfect, perhaps not even ideal- but if i can learn to appreciate my existence, to acknowledge and accept that this is who i am right now. Im me. Not for anyone else, not for anything else. That through it all i exist, and deserve to exist.

That yes. I am who i am, and that is okay.

Weird, Fragmented, obtuse.

Powerful, determined, cool.

All of this is me. And i feel, by accepting that, i can accept the idea of positivity. I feel that by embracing who i am, flaws and all, that i can feel better about myself. That it first starts with acceptance. This acknowledgement and understanding of who i am, then continuing onward from there.

You know, my username, was a play on the noisee spongebob's shoes makes, and how i keep mispelling words.

Its cause spongebob is my favorite guy, and in a way through joking about a part of myself, i acknowledged that yeah. Thats something i do.

I guess now i should probably try a get a little comfortable with the idea of being err.. confident in myself.

Im so afraid of being see as those villians or the people of "vanity", being hated on for appreciating yourself. I desire to be humble, despite it not really being something that is natural to me (i am, frankly, quite vain.) Simply because its more socially acceptable, and well.. makes people like you more cause you dont actively challenge their ego.

But it makes me wonder why i got to this point of keeping my head down. Obedient, subservant, unconfident, small.

Its the words that i revert to when i feel this way. A little mouselet, if you will. Its like my brain believes if i am small, if i am weak and take up the smallest of rooms, somehow i shall surivive. If i simply stop moving, and pretend i dont exist, by proxy the evil beast will forget i am alive and everything will be okay.

I guess thats probably from some trauma i havent worked out, or dont want to work out honestly.

Either way, its almost painful, and frightening to try and be... confident about myself. As if i take up too much space.

If someone tells me i suck, i bark and say im amazing. If someone tells me i great, i turn off the comments and run away.

Its a weird phenonomon. I can only handle insults, but can never handle compliments.

So, of course, when i try to truely be like.. kind to myself, or compliment myself i always feel "vain" or like a villian. I feel too cocky, or too "big".

I guess thats why my self-compliemnts sound so overblown sometimes. I mean i literally do call myself stuff like "queen/king" or fucking "ultimate life form" "superior [blank]" "the best looking motherfucker in the entire world". Type shit. And yeah, it sounds way over the top, and overblown and funky.

But for some reason it helps. It just works. So im going to keep doing it i guess. And maybe i'll inch my way down into the softer compliments too? Untill im no longer reliant on people telling me who i am, or what ill be. Just untill i can look at myself in the miror a little longer, and think about how good id look with a little beard, and how good i look already.

Like, idk. As im typing this my instinct is to already pedal back and go "no no no no! You areny like that! People will hate you now that your openly stating you think your cool and that you like yourself!" So now im openly mocking that little fucker inside my brain. Including the fandom one who keeps trying to compare me to shadow the hedgehog, depsite the fact that i was like this BEFORE i knew he ever existed. Like fuck you fandom brain, for once in my life i am MAKING IMYOU PAY THE FUCKING RENT. Did this shit with pinkie pie and that fucked me up so badly that im never fucking with the fandom brain every again.

Already big whoop vent brain off, go fuck off goddamit.

Someyimes i wonder if im too weird. Like if i get too comfortable i start purring. Will people find this weird?

[kidpunkjunk]

how good is arcade gannon... really...

the best. hes literally the best. thats the answer thats it thats all hes the most good.

i was about to make a big long think piece but you know what no, fuck you, i shouldnt have to. i shouldnt have to explain or debunk or anything, if you have any kind of comprehension at ALL youd understand. he is, morally, one of the best people in the entire wasteland. he tries so hard and succeds as best he can. he wants the best for himself and everyone around him which cant be said abt most fuckers in the fallout world. hes so selfless and caring and just. fuck dude.

imagine coming from one of the most vile terrible factions in the fallout universe, imagine growing up with those ideals and yet realizing no hey fuck that, thats bad actually. he subverted the mindset he grew up with so extremely, joining a group almost the exact opposite of the envlave. and even within them you could argue hes one of the optimistic and idealist people. like. shit dude. "he joined bc of their resources and knowledge" are you kidding ?? his main goal is to help people, thats his main drive in life and you dare imply its anything else? you dare imply hes shallow and selfish and would use them just for their books? fucking really? sure its a PLUS but youre emptyheaded thinking thats the only reason.

i will never shut up abt his parallels to carla. he is out of time, hes a prewar relic, he doesnt belong in the shithole that is post nuclear wasteland america. hes something out of a pristine photograph, as perfect as one can get without trying, while remaining humble. hes honestly too good for the world he is in. "how good is he really" too good, hes too good, and i dont mean that in a "its unrealistic how good he is" way, i mean that his world doesnt deserve a man so good.

when they said he uses his enclave knowledge in the independent vegas ending (best ending btw) they dont mean the fascist ideas they held or the conservative mindset they had, dude they were SMART in the enclave, wildly intelligent!! fucking !! sentient deathclaws the fuck !! they had fountains of knowledge, rivalling the followers and the brotherhood. say what you want, yes theyre horrible people, but their scientists were near genius' !!! which made them all the more terrifying!! like Caesar if he wasnt a goddamn dumbass !! their best president was an ai !!! and you misinterpret that so insanely its not FUNNY. hes using all this forgotten knowledge, knowledge that would be lost forever, for good, and you think they meant he was instating fascist regimes into freeside? really? really? and he doesnt. he doesnt want to be his dad. he doesnt want to not want to be his dad or whatever the fuck. he wants his dad to be proud of him. bc thats his fucking father. enclave or not, whatever the hell, thats his father.

he hates the ncr because the ncr sucks. only good idea that the enclave held: ncr sucks. they do. theyre imperialist, theyre capitalists, they suck. regardless of who installed that opinion in him, its right, its correct. bootlicker.

i believe that during the battle arcade, like the other remnants, kept their face hidden so they could go abt their lives after. its entirely believable that noone knew it was him in the tesla armour and he could return to freeside. enclave knowledge and tech is invaluable, im sure julie was willing to not ask too many questions for such helpful and valuable prewar recources. and after he returned im positive that he did not strive for a place of leadership within the fort, i highly doubt it. give orders? where did it say he started giving orders? where? point me to it ?

this is the story of a man with a troubled past, who comes from.horrible roots, who wants to be better than what he was set up to be. its the story of a man finding his place in a world thats not fit for people like him. its the story of a man who wants his parents to be proud of him, without being what they wanted him to be, a thing so many people go through. its the story of a man who fears he is destined to be horrible but defeats his perceived fate. its the story of a good man. arcade gannon is a good man. and thats why hes my favorite character. fuck you.

[poppy-metal]

Demure

Wc: 4k

Pairing: eren jaeger x reader

Cw: car sex, fingering, emphasis on reader being innocent and a virgin. reader is armins little sister. corruption kink

you're 6 years old when you first meet eren jaeger. apparently he'd run off some people that were bullying you big brother, armin. you admire him and mikasa immediately.

you're 8 and he's 11 when you get a scrape on your knee from playing tag. eren runs into your mothers bathroom to fish out the first aid-kit, you know he just doesn't want you to tattle, you never would anyway, but he pulls out a pink band-aid with little ariels all over it and places it gently over the cut. he stays there for a few beats, soothing the skin around the hurt area with his thumbs. his big bright green eyes look up at you, "better?" and that's the first time your heart skips for a boy.

you're 11 and he's 14 when armin starts becoming protective. "he's had like. 5 girlfriends in middle school, who knows what he's gonna be like in high-school"

it intrigue you, for some reason.

you're 13 and he's 16 when he taps furiously on your window at night, wild eyed and wearing a t-shirt and sweats. he falls ungracefully on his ass when you let him in, though he grins at you from the floor. "thanks, squirt"

you wince at the nickname, knowing it solidifies you as someone only platonic to him. armins little sister and nothing more. "what's this all about?"

he gets up and swipes imaginary dust off his sweats, looking around your room. its absurdly girly. he picks up one of your plushies and tosses it up, then catches it, peering over at you and grinning. "i hope you never change," he sighs and flops down onto your pink sheets. "girls my age are fucking psychos"

you creep closer to him, snatching your plush back. "im sure there's something you're leaving out there. im not completely dumb, you know"

he waves his hand, "yeah but you're....i don't know? innocent or whatever. you don't care about shit like boys and drama"

i do care about boys, you think, watching the way his shirt rides up to expose a hint of tan skin. you look away, squeezing your plush to your chest. "im gonna grow up eventually, ren"

he sighs and sits up, looking at you from under his ridiculously cute floppy brown hair. "Just promise me you won't go boy crazy"

you roll your eyes and sit down next to him, he leans in and licks a broad stripe against your cheek with his tongue, grinning "we have cooties"

you swat at him and wipe your cheek, groaning and calling him gross. "i know that. you and armin never let me forget how gross boys are", you side eye him. "what did you even do? really?"

he looks to the side, only now having it in him to look the least bit sheepish, "my girlfriend may have caught me with my hand down historias skirt..."

"EREN JAEGER!!!"

yeah, boys really are gross. but not eren, no he's beautiful and magical and makes you feel all the fluttery things. but he's also a player, a bad boy, dangerous and completely off limits. maybe your crush should have ended there, but of course it didn't.

You're 15 when you go on your first date with a boy. until now you haven’t allowed yourself to even think about men outside of the enigma that is eren jaeger, but that’s a lost cause, a stupid crush you need to let go of. and despite what eren thinks, you’re not that innocent. not in your head anyway. you’re a girl and you have fantasies. 

the guy is nice, armin likes him enough. big and tall and humble, reiner brought you flowers for your first date. the age difference is a little weird, he’s in erens grade, a senior, but you think its harmless. you’re turning 16 soon. the date goes well, you smile and giggle alot, and reiner seems smitten by the end of it. he even goes as far as to kiss your hand when he drops you back off at home, at 8pm sharp, just like he promised. he was kind and sweet, and you liked him, but you wonder what it means that there were no flutters in your belly, not like when you’re around him…

you’re still thinking about that when you open the door, and walk inside. the house is quiet, and you wonder where armin is, and eren. thinking they both must be in armins room, you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water, stopping on your path there when you see eren on the couch. he’s lounging back, hand idly wrapped around a gaming controller as he watches you.

you glance around him. “where’s mimmin?”

he doesn’t take his eyes off you. “annie called”, he leans forward a little, propping his chin in his palm as he observes you quietly for a moment.

you squirm in place, his eyes are too hot. “oh” and you make to start moving again but his voice stops you. 

“so. braun, huh?” his tone is hard to discern, the words coming out cool and detached, but his eyes are that intense green. 

“yeah” you say, shifting on your feet. “he was nice. kissed my hand and everything”

“sounds like a dream” and that is definitely said sarcastically. you bristle but eren is already turning away from you, facing the TV. “didn’t think he was your type though” 

because erens been your type since forever, you guess he’s right. reiner couldn’t be more different in both personality and looks, but maybe that’s a good thing. “maybe he can be” you say softly, looking at your feet. you dont see erens eyebrows jump, or his lips twist disdainfully. 

“If you wanna settle for missionary the rest of your life, then sure, go ahead” he sounds a little miffed and that confuses you. makes you look up. you don’t even know reiner that well, but you feel the need to defend him from erens usual snarky jabs. 

“not every guy that doesn’t live on Xbox and fuck half the school is a bland guy” you huff. you feel a little guilty for calling him out but he started it. eren hated preps, that was obvious, but its not like he was a model person either, if his long track record of promiscuity was anything to go by. reiner wasnt boring he just…..wasn’t eren. but that wasn’t a flaw. It shouldn’t be. 

“you been keeping tabs on me, princess?” eren asks wryly, smirking now. you just glare at him, quirking a brow and daring him to prove you wrong, to say he’s better. 

he doesn’t. he just looks at you, sets his controller down and does that tick he’d developed since he was young of jiggling his knee, tapping his finger on it. “don’t go on more dates with him” 

you squint your eyes, “and why not?”

“because i said so” 

“you’re not my boss” 

“because..” he scratches the stubble on his jaw, gaze looking far off as he stares at his bouncing leg. “guys shouldn't touch you” 

your mouth pops open. you get that, right now, you’re too young for stuff like sex, but being touched? everyone your age had boyfriends, why should you be any different?

It feels a bit like deja vu when you tell him, “m’not staying innocent forever. dating and s-sex are apart of life. you do it, why shouldn’t i?” 

you didn’t really get his whole overprotective bit, armin, who was your brother, wasn’t even this bad. he’d seen happy almost, when you told him about your date with reiner, even, so you really don’t see where eren is coming from. 

erens lip curls in a smirk and he points a finger at you. “that’s why” he says. “you can’t even say the word sex without stuttering. what’ll you do when you see a cock for the first time?” 

your skin heats, hating that he’s right. “I’ll grow out of it” you promise him. 

he huffs a laugh. “sure thing, dork” but then his face gets serious. “you don’t need to change though. sex is lame, i promise.” 

“you seem to have alot of it, so there must be something good about it” 

“for me, yeah” he grins. “but im selfish. most men are, and you deserve better than some highschool tumble with a guy who looks like he can’t find the clit to save his life” his eyes weigh you down. “just keep bein’ you. If i come back from college and hear that you’re the towns tramp stamp, m’ not gonna be happy” 

and that’s that. 

you’re 16 when eren leaves for college. you get to 18 without ever being touched. 

you’re 18 and you wish you hadn’t begged armin to let you come to this stupid bomfire party. it’s just the first time he’s been home in the 2 years since he’d left for college, and you know that means eren is back too, though you have yet to see him. he’s supposed to be at the party though.

you wonder if he’ll react to having seen you after not for awhile, if he’ll look at you different now that you’re grown. you’re wearing a simple pleated white skirt and a pink top, the picture of innocence you’ve always been, never changing. 

being around so many people makes you uncomfortable, you want to cling to armins side, but you don’t want to be annoying so you tell him its okay to leave you. your eyes scan the mass of people on the crowded beach as you nervously hold your solo cup to your chest. 

your eyes stop their nervous skittering when they land on someone familiar. 

college eren is completely different and yet wholly the same since you’d last seen him. he’s wearing a red bomber jacket, over a black t-shirt and skinny jeans, scuffed converse kicking in the sand as he shifts from one foot to the other. you peep tan skin, a hint of a tattoo peeking on his neck and….and black hair. he’d dyed his hair, and, is that jewelry on his ear? rings on his hand?

he’s smiling easily with a pretty blonde and...and reiner. talking to them like old friends as he tilts his head back and laughs, taking a swig from his cup. he’s still chuckling and shaking his head when his eyes flick distractedly over, rove over you and then stop. even from all the way where you are the green of his eyes pins you in place. the warm glow of the bonfire dances across his features, and you see the bastard has a lip ring as well. he takes his time cataloging you and you do him, before his lips tilt, he hands off his drink and he makes his way over to you. 

your whole body is tense with nerves as he gets closer and closer.

when he’s standing in front of you, the smell of his cologne wafts over you. his smile is small and genuine. “hey, pip” 

pip as in short for pipsqueak. you have to fight the urge to grin at him, your cheeks warming pleasantly, even though you groan out loud. “m’ not little anymore” 

“I can see that” eren eyes rake over you, linger on your bare legs before dragging slowly back up. his eyes feel like a caress and when they meet yours again, you’re already tingly. you’ve never been touched sexually, and just one look from eren has you wet between the legs like nothing. “still dress like you wanna be an extra in a Bratz commercial” 

the tension disputes as you swat his arm. “shut up!! Its a fashion choice, not like you’d know. dressed like a wannabe rockstar” 

“aw, c’mon. you’d be my groupie right?” 

you roll your eyes. “you wish, jaeger”

“mm” he hums softly. “s’cute though. always has been” 

before you can even register the compliment, he’s leaning forward to peek into your cup, swiping it easily from you. “underage drinking, are we? left you for a couple years and you go rebel barbie on me” 

you squawk as he chugs all of your drink back in one gulp, crushing the cup in his fist and tossing it behind him. “ren! I wasn’t even drinking it. It was..” you wave your hand around. “for the aesthetic”

“uh huh” he drones, but then he jerks his chin. “i’ll get you another one to stand around and look pretty with then. C’mon”

cute, pretty. the compliments are gonna make your heart fly out of your chest if he doesn’t let up. you follow him as he leads you to a keg, one that’s a little ways away from the bustle of the party, close to the parking lot where you came in. 

you shyly say ‘thank you’ when he fills you a cup and hands it to you, proceeding to lean back against a car as he goes back to observing you.

to distract yourself you mumble, “you can’t just lean on a strangers car for the sake of being cool” 

the grin is back. “you think im cool?” when you glare at him he rolls his eyes and slaps the hood of the car. “she’s mine, pip. you can untwist your panties” 

you blink at him, “since when did you get a new car? and when did you dye your hair?” 

he looks at you curiously, drumming his fingers. “do you not, like. follow me on instagram?”

you look away, kicking your feet in the sand. hesitantly you admit, “didn’t wanna miss you, so i didn’t look” 

he doesn’t say anything to that. the silence stretches between you, making you nervous. should you not have said that? you guessed it was weird, after all, but it was true. If you’d looked at how erens life was progressing without you there to see it, you’d have cried and been a total lovesick girl about it. 

he finally breaks the silence. “do you have a boyfriend?” 

you look back at him. “uh...no? do you?”

the smirk you wanted ghosts over his lips again, and your eyes are drawn to his lip ring when he tugs it between his teeth. “nah, you know me. unattainable” 

“yeah, i know” you say under your breath, thinking of how eren jaeger had been an unattainable fantasy for you for years. 

“so no current boyfriend or…?” 

“no boyfriends...ever” its embarrassing to admit, but less humiliating than admitting that the reason that was is because you’re in love with your brothers best friend, the very man standing before you now. 

“that’s kinda tragic, pip” eren hops up on the hood of his car and fishes a cigarette out of his pocket. he waves a hand at you, “you’re rockin’ a bod like that and no one’s bagged you? thought you’d be beating down options with a bat by now” 

you watch the smoke that plumes in the air, the way it coils and wisps, and really look at eren. he’s tragically beautiful. his no black hair is boyishly messy, tangled around his head in a dark halo. his face is sharp and tan, his eyes striking and making you feel like you’re sinking into the sand beneath your feet.

you’ve wanted him for so long, it makes you ache. years and years of pushing away men and declining confessions for this man in front of you. you’d never expected anything from him, but you couldn’t move past the fantasy in your head. couldn’t imagine giving any of your firsts to anyone but eren. 

“you told me to stay innocent” its out before you can stop the words, they just fumble out, spilling from your lips and into the air like the smoke.

eren stills, pauses from where he’d been about to take another drag. his expression is unreadable. he flicks the ashes from the cig on the sand, stumps it out under his foot as he hops down. the wind ruffles his dark hair as he just looks and looks and looks at you. 

“yeah?” and oh, jesus, if the rough gravel in his voice doesn’t make your cunt warm immediately. “and you listened?” 

you squeeze your thighs together, an action that draws erens gaze between your legs. to late to back down now, you think, and wet your lips. “y-yeah. I did” 

“you didn’t let any boys touch you while i was gone?” eren continues and he draws closer, creeping towards you.

you shake your head, silent as he comes in front of you. he reaches up to delicately push a strand of hair behind you ear with one of his ring fingers. he keeps it tucked behind your ear as he towers over you, staring you down. “you’re still my innocent little girl, huh?” 

you wonder if this is how it feels to be seduced, seduced by eren jaeger no less. his eyes are warm, and they make you feel warm from where the rest on your eyes, and then, your lips. they part under his gaze, on instinct. “I am, ren. always have been” 

his eyes darken, and the finger behind your ear becomes his whole hand sliding to cup the back of your head, slowly fisitng your hair in it. “shit” he tilts your head up. “you can’t say things like that, baby”

baby, baby, baby. your head swims. you’re on autopilot now, speaking without thinking and you think that’s good because if you were thinking clearly you wouldn't have the courage. “i’ve always been your good girl. no one elses” 

you have one second to hear his exhale before his lips are crashing against yours, and oh. oh, he’s good. you feel the metal of his lip ring against your bottom lip as he slides his tongue in your mouth, eating you up.

“god, you’re sweet” he nips your lip. “knew you would be”

you pant into his mouth, your hands curling on his chest, “y-you’ve thought about me?”

“‘course i did, im not blind” he pulls away. “I just really like my dick and didn’t want it chopped off. armin is scary” 

you know he can be when he wants to be, knows if he saw eren ravishing his little sister against his car right now, body parts would be strewn about. and that’s just from armins verbal warfare.

you look at eren demurely from under your lashes, “i don’t want anything to happen to your…” you trail off at the end.

erens eyebrows climb up his forehead, he presses close to you, tugs you to him. “my…” he prods, eyes glinting with mischief. 

you look away, pouting. “know i can’t say it” you mumble, hating that even now, saying vulgar words is embarrassing for you.

erens chest shakes with a laugh. “you just sucked my tongue down your throat, pip, and you can’t talk about my cock? you’re precious, c’mere.” he starts walking backwards, towards his car. “we gotta be sneaky about it but-” he dips down to kiss you again, once, twice. “i really wanna touch you” 

you gulp, and nod, let him pull you to his car and open the backseat for you, climbing in after you. he shuts and locks it behind him and then he’s facing you, eren jaeger giving you his full attention. looking at you like he wants you, like he’s seeing you, like he wants to do alot of bad things to you.

you place a shaking hand on his shoulder. “im- i dont know what to do..”

you want to impress him, but pretending you’re good at something you’re not won’t do that. eren doesn’t like liars anyway. 

he scoots close to you, pulling you halfway onto his lap until you’re sitting comfortably against him. you bite your lip when you feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against your ass under your skirt. one of his hands settles on your bare thigh, scooting it up just barely.

“you ever watch porn, sweetheart?” erens breath puffs against your ear and you squirm on top of him. 

you push down your own embarrassment, resigning yourself to be a big girl and be honest. “s-sometimes” 

“yeah?” god, why does just that word turn you on so much? “tell me what kind of stuff you watch when you touch your little pussy” 

his vulgar words go straight to your cunt, at the same time his hand slides up your thighs and slips under your skirt. you close your eyes when you feel the tip of his finger trace over the band of your panties. “they’re always a couple..” you gasp when his hand dips inside, palm cupping over your pussy. “a-and the guy has dark hair..”

“Imagining anyone in particular?” eren teases, but you hear his breath catch at the same time yours does when he sinks one long finger inside. the folds around your slit part seamlessly around the intrusion, sucking his finger in like your pussy wants it there. “so wet, baby. keep talking for me?”

ever the good girl, you push through the tingles and the heat spreading down your legs, the slick sound of his finger fucking in and out of you filling the silent car as you struggle to find words. “s-shes always inexperienced. Its her first time and...and hes gentle” you moan a little when erens thumb comes to swirl around your clit, hips lips finding your neck. he’s teasing another finger at your tight entrance when you swallow another groan and try to keep talking like he’d asked. “he’s gentle but he takes. t-takes what he wants”

“mm” eren hums, tongue sliding against your skin. you gasp when the tip of his ring finger edges in beside the other one, stretching your tight passage around his digits in thorough little twists of his fingers. “that’s real good, baby. you like the sound of that, huh?” 

eren hooks his chin over your shoulder, bunches your skirt around your waist so he can see where your little pussy is clenching and squeezing around him, clit engorged and throbbing for attention. when you don’t answer, he continues, using the slick dripping down your slit, gathering it and then pushing back into you. “I bet” he says, low, husky. “In those videos, he eats her out real nice, yeah? makes sure her little virgin cunt is wet enough to take his cock”

“y-yeah” you pant, holding his wrist but not pulling it away, pushing him more towards you. you’re starting to grind down against the pleasure, walls rhythmically fluttering around his fingers, fucking yourself on them without even knowing it. he curls them, and your head thumps back against his shoulder as you cry out. 

“i’ll give that to you” eren promises, pumping his fingers faster, his other hand coming up to cup one of your tits over your blouse, giving it a squeeze. “gonna take you home after you cream around my fingers and lay you out on your bed” he kisses your cheek, holding you firm against him when you start to twitch and writhe. “lick this little flower open. wanna feel your thighs squeeze my face when i drink the cum from your pussy, get you all loose and wet and then i wanna feel you drip down my dick when i slide it inside”

“oh god, ren!” you jerk in his hold as you feel your orgasm crest over you, gushing down his palm, as you ride his hand, milking it as tingles shoot across your whole body. A milky, creamy film rests around his knuckles when he slides his fingers out of your weeping cunt, still pulsating and twitching from the come down. 

he rubs the excess slick around your folds and clit, rubbing it in. you whimper and he chuckles and kisses your cheek. 

you sag against him, fucked out. eren brushes some hair from your forehead and kisses it. “wannabe punk pounds sweet virgin pussy into her bed” 

you look at him, confused and dazed “huh?”

eren grins at you. “s’ gonna be the name of our porno”