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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

Summary: Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, Eruri, implied Mobuhan, spelling Miche ‘Mike’, swearing, fighting, lots of nerdy shit, explicit sexual content, breeding kink

A/N: This is my contribution to the Smut Pile’s Apocalypse collab. I urge everyone to check out all the pieces on the masterlist. A big thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk for being about as excited about this as I was, to @shadowworks for always encouraging me when I take on projects too big for my own good, and to @mindninjax who volunteered her husband’s expertise on this. I’m pretty proud of this piece and had a blast writing and researching for it. This is by no means scientifically accurate, but I did my best to make it realistic (as in I watched Supervolcano again and spent a lot of time on the USGS website). Also, I have been to Yellowstone exactly one (1) time in my life and was terrified the entire time which is where my fixation with it comes from.

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

Caldera - large basin-shaped volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

Pyroclastic flow - A hot (typically >800 °C), chaotic mixture of rock fragments, gas, and ash that travels rapidly (tens of meters per second) away from a volcanic vent or collapsing flow front.*

Tephra - pieces of all fragments of rock ejected into the air by an erupting volcano.

VEI - The Volcanic Explosivity Index (VEI) is a relative measure of the explosiveness of volcanic eruptions.*

*definitions taken from USGS website

4 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Levi looks pissed when he’s on screen. He looks pissed all the time, but he looks especially pissed when he’s made to stand in front of pointed cameras and outstretched microphones.

You can’t blame him; it’s not actually his job to deal with the press, but some years ago, Erwin had twisted his arm this way and that and convinced Levi to take over conferences.

“They understand you better,” he’d said. “You enunciate better than me. We can’t have people misunderstanding me and panicking, can we?” The blond had purposely spoken with an accent thicker than usual, and Levi had called him every name under the sun, but in the end, he’d relented, and now…

“Dr. Ackermann! Dr. Ackermann! Is it true that this has been the largest earthquake in Yellowstone since Hebgen Lake?”

Levi squints, actually cringes at the question, then waves one of his small, bony hands. “Hebgen Lake was a major quake—7.2 on the Richter scale. This was only a 5.3, and yeah, it’s been a while since the park has had a quake larger than a three, but that doesn’t mean—”

“So, should we be worried about a supereruption?” Another reporter asks, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing as the light leaves your colleague’s eyes.

Levi’s jaw slides, and he pauses, no doubt to think about how to answer because this is a delicate question, one that the general public always reads extremely far into. He’s good at keeping his expression blank, at least, probably another reason Erwin requested he take over interviews.

“Listen,” he starts off, slate eyes locking onto the largest camera in front of him. “Yellowstone is a hub of seismic energy. It wouldn’t be the park we know and love today if it wasn’t shaking and letting off steam like it usually does, right?” This gains a few relieved chuckles from the crowd of journalists.

“Was this earthquake bigger than the ones we’re used to? Yes. Are we monitoring each and every tremor that we pick up? Also, yes. So, don’t make yourself sick worryin’ about sh—stuff you can’t control. We’ll let you know if it’s time to worry.” He sucks his teeth for a second, waiting for his advice to wash over everyone, then adds, “Keep a bug-out bag packed, though. Not because of the volcano or anything. Just because… The world is crazy and so are people, and it’s always good to be prepared.”

They take it as a joke, laugh a little louder as Levi steps down from the podium, but you’ve worked with him long enough to know he had made the comment with serious intent. It’s a lot easier to fly out of town at a moment’s notice when you already have the necessities packed, and though he won't tell them all the facts this early on, there’s a chance that they will eventually have to evacuate, yes.

“I fucking hate that big, blond bastard,” is the first thing Levi tells you when he’s within earshot, much less well-spoken in casual situations than when his face is being broadcasted. “Voht iff they dunt understahnd me, Lebi?” He mimics your boss badly then pantomimes an uppercut with a dramatic grunt.

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

“I was trying to make him sound stupid ‘cause that’s what he is.”

“I have four doctorates,” Erwin states as he falls into step with both of you, finally moving from his little hiding place behind one of the news trucks. “I’m not stupid. And, I do not sound like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Levi grumbles, doing his best to shrug away from the larger man when Erwin slings an arm around his shoulders. It doesn’t work, and Levi ends up stumbling to keep up with Erwin’s longer strides, which only serves to irritate him further.

“You looked good up there. I mean, you sounded good. Sounded sure, comforting…”

You shake your head at Erwin’s obvious struggle to just not be the big weirdo that he is, but it sure is painful to watch sometimes.

Governor Zachary takes over the conference, leaving the three of you to make your way inside the lodge that the emergency broadcast was set up outside of. Levi and Erwin bicker through the lobby then through the back doors that lead you to the jeep that you all swing yourselves into.

The sky is still a little dusty with shaken sediment, and some of the park rangers are setting up barricades at the mouths of a couple hiking trails leading to what is now a moderately large crevasse that’s opened up in the Biscuit Basin.

Other than that, the park doesn’t feel much different as you ride through it on your way back to the lab. The Summer sun brings with it your favorite 70 degree days, and if it weren’t for Erwin’s questionable driving, you’d be tempted to hang half your body out the window just to feel the warmth better. The faint smell of sulfur in the air is soothing at this point—the smell of activity, the smell of science, the smell of home. Geysers are still shooting boiling water to the skies. The mud pots are still bubbling like ominous cauldrons. That earthquake couldn’t have shaken too much out of place if all the geothermal spots are still behaving as they normally do.

The tires kick up rocks and dust as Erwin brakes dramatically outside of the base, right behind another familiar jeep that makes Levi roll his eyes.

“Great. The boy scout’s here.”

“Oh, be nice, you little grump,” Erwin chastises him. “Mike’s been nothing but kind to us since he started working here.”

“Yeah, except for the time he misjudged the depth of that puddle and—”

“Splashed you with mud, yeah, yeah, we know, Levi,” you finish for him as you slide out of the vehicle. “You bring it up every time you see the guy. We know.”

“And, didn’t he apologize afterward?” Erwin prompts.

Levi doesn’t answer, but you respond for him: “Profusely. Drove him back to the lab, offered him his spare change of clothes—”

“Useless,” Levi hisses. “The dude’s a giant.”

“Not his fault he’s…” You try not to sound too giddy when you step through the door and see the man in question. “Enormous.”

You don’t know Mike very well, one of the newer park rangers but with a background in geology which leads him to your neck of the woods very often. The few conversations you have had with him have all been pleasant. He’s soft-spoken but obviously intelligent with good instincts about both the park’s weather and wildlife.

He’s also the only ranger you’ve seen actually pull off the dorky park uniform, but that could just be because the different shades of green look good against his tan skin and bring out his light eyes. Even taller than Erwin and a little broader too, M. Zacharias (as his little, metal name tag reads) is a slab of a man, and yet, when he grins, it’s almost boyish.

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

He turns his head to look at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, then offers one of the soft smiles you were hoping for. “Just came to drop off some samples for Hange.”

“Disgusting,” Levi mutters just for you to hear as he passes, and you shove him hard enough to make him stumble and flip you off.

“How’d the press conference go?” Hange asks, tossing a small, corked flask of mud from hand to hand—what you assume to be the sample—while twirling in their computer chair. The last member of your team, Moblit Berner, glances away from the holographic model he’s studying to hear the answer.

“I think it went well,” Erwin says. “Levi handled it like a champion, as always.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, old man,” the brunet bites out, joining Moblit next to the expensive projection table in the middle of the lab. “What’re we lookin’ at?”

“I’m just running the numbers from today’s quake. The possible effects it had underground.”

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?”

You, Erwin, and Hange make your way over to the table, staring at the laser-lit park model and the chamber underneath it.

“Well, in most of the scenarios, it’s fine,” Moblit tries. “Nothing to worry about.”

“And, in the others?”

He looks to Erwin, as everyone does in times of concern. Thick eyebrows pinched together, your boss motions to the hologram. “Show us.”

Moblit punches a few things in on the app he uses to control the model, then takes a deep breath and lets it play out for everyone to see, including Mike who slowly makes his way over, curiosity apparently getting the best of him.

At first, nothing looks to change, just a living, breathing reenactment of what you were seeing today—every geyser, every fumarole, every little rumble, every minute rise and fall of the ground sped up to be detected with the human eye.

And then, it stops.

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you.

The outline of the ground fractures in several different places, statistics for different earthquakes blinking above. The known vents of the park—every geyser, mudpot, and fumarole—are rendered inactive, and under it all, that massive chamber everyone is always so worried about begins to bulge upward and outward, growing larger and larger until…

The map shorts out, flickering then disappearing entirely, leaving the six of you staring at the space where it was shining just seconds ago.

“Was that…”

Erwin inhales deeply through his nose before exhaling the word that will eventually bring the nation to its knees.

"Supereruption."

3 Y E A R S B E F O R E

Even through the thick headset, the whir of the helicopter blades is loud, a rhythm pulsing through the air strong enough to be felt in your chest right alongside your beating heart.

Thankfully, Mike’s deep voice is loud and clear when he speaks, nodding his head to the right, “Look down at about two o’clock.”

You follow his command, tilting your head and peering down at an empty field.

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

The microphone hanging in front of his mouth picks up his chuckle, and the sound of it echoes in your ears, making you grin albeit a little confused.

“Exactly. That’s a big spot for bison this time of year.”

“Then why aren’t they here?”

Mike lets the chopper hover for a while, both hands still on their respective control levers.

“Ground’s been moving too much,” he says after a few seconds of silent staring. You’d known the answer already but hearing the wildlife expert confirm it fills you with a little more dread than you’d originally harbored. “They feel things we don’t, the tiny quakes, the tremors. Stuff you only think the seismograph picks up—they feel all of it.”

“They know what’s coming,” you say more to yourself than to him.

Mike offers you one of those charming, close-lipped smiles. “When in doubt, trust the animals.”

A line you’ve heard him say a few times now. Mike loves everything that lives in the park, from all the common lake trout and sand cranes to the endangered grizzly bears and gray wolves.

Trust the animals, he says. Because he trusts them. Because he loves them.

“You wanna fly over the Grand Prismatic?” Mike asks, pulling you from your thoughts, and when you look over, you find your reflection in his mirrored aviators as he stares at you.

His mouth quirks up at the corners, causing yours to do the same, and you nod. “Yeah, always.”

It’s your favorite view in the park, the colorful spring from up above. Mike had learned that a few months ago, and now whenever you ride in the chopper with him, he makes sure to pass over the beautiful attraction just for you.

Nearly 200° Fahrenheit with a pH of 8.7, the pool, while still dangerous due to its temperature, is one of the more moderate dangers of the national park, tame in comparison to the Norris Geyser Basin with temperatures up to 459° (a thousand meters below the surface, anyway) and a pH of about two. It’s dissolved bones—human bones. And, would claim even more if given the chance.

You suppose that’s expected for a basin that’s sitting over a chamber of 1,500° molten magma.

The Grand Prismatic is just as stunning today as it is every other. Its outer orange and yellow rings darken to greens and blues the further inward you look, thick steam rising from all over but more condensed over the middle.

It was one of the park's biggest attractions, tourists flocking to the spring with their cameras, too stricken by the vivid chromaticism to listen or read about the temperatures and microbials that are responsible for the colors in the first place.

As you hover above now, just to the side of the steam, your heart aches. There are no ignorant tourists to take pictures of the pool, the boardwalks and trails to these hot spots now blocked off once it became apparent that the earthquake that took place last year was not the last of its kind. Your team as well as the park rangers went to the park board as a unit and suggested that tourists needed to be kept away from as many geothermal features as possible, all of you with the same fear in mind: someone (or many someones) falling in.

It's always been a risk, but now, with weekly rumblings, that risk has multiplied exponentially. All it takes is someone losing their footing on the boardwalk over the Norris Geyser Basin for serene sightseeing to turn into tragedy, and that's on a good day. Throw a 5.7 earthquake into the mix, and the park could lose an entire tour group to the heat and acid.

It's just not a risk any of you are willing to take anymore.

Most of the park remains open. Old Faithful continues to draw people in by the thousands. They sit and watch boiling water shoot into the sky every hour or so, clapping happily at the sight, unaware of the way you and your team hold your breath in wait, hoping for the geyser to go off on its usual schedule.

One day it will stop. One day they'll all stop. And, then…

"I can't believe it's all gonna be gone one day," you muse, blinking down at the prismatic pool for as long as Mike will let you.

"Nah," the man disagrees. "Not gone. Buried, yeah, but not gone."

You snort, turn back to him with a grin and roll your eyes. "Yeah, no big deal. Just miles of pyroclast and ash, probably snow when we get thrust into another ice age 'cause of the crazy climate swing..."

"Alright, alright, I get it. The sun dimeth and the land sinketh."

"Gusheth forth steam and gutting fire," you continue grimly.

Mike turns the helicopter back toward the landing zone, saying nothing else and leaving you to take in the sights below. You're grateful for the silence; it's good for processing, for preparation.

And, you're grateful for Mike, one of your best friends at this point—soft and kind despite his intimidating stature, smart as a whip, and just as stunning, if not more so, than the Grand Prismatic.

"Any idea what you'll do afterward?" He asks, holding a hand out to you to help you from your seat in the chopper.

"Not really. Survive, I guess."

You land just a little too close to him, your face nearly coming in direct contact with his broad chest, but Mike steps back just in time, making you extend your arm, still connected at the fingers, before he drops your hand.

"A feat all on its own," he says flatly, but he perks up as you both begin walking to the park ranger base. "Maybe you'll find another team to work on."

"I don't want to find another team," you tell him honestly. "This is my team. This is my home."

Mike hums, an understanding little sound, body warm when he gently bumps into you on the gravel pathway to the lodge. "Yeah, I know."

A geophysics major at UCLA with a specific interest in volcanology, getting to intern with the Erwin Smith at the Yellowstone supervolcano had been a dream come true. You'd expected to gain knowledge and experience—nothing more and nothing less. You'd lived out here for one summer during your graduate program, clocking the field experience you needed to get your degree and taking in everything you could.

Back then, it felt like all you did was ask questions and get in the way. By the end of that summer, you knew every variation of Levi Ackermann's irritated sighs, every different pitch of Hange Zoe's shouts and how they correlated with their experiments. Moblit had been the newest permanent addition and was even more nervous than he is now, trying and failing to keep up with Hange (which he's much better at doing these days).

They were all fantastic, but it had been the lead researcher who'd reeled you in. You'd never met anyone as passionate as Dr. Erwin Smith, captivated by the monster underneath the park and thrilled to share his brain with anyone willing to hold their hands out for it. Hell, he'd even helped you with your Master's thesis—hydrothermally altered mineralized systems and their seismic reflections.

When you graduated, the Yellowstone team was the first you reached out to and the first you heard back from. Erwin said you'd been a perfect fit even as a student (which you hadn't exactly believed but definitely blushed at anyway). Mobs, Hange, and even Levi seemed happy to have you back. It was like you were meant to be here. In this park. With all of them.

Studying the volcano and all of its properties has always been like breathing to you—natural and necessary. You move when it moves, every shake and tremor a heartbeat in your own chest, every shooting geyser like blood in your veins. The mudpots are your bubbling emotions, the fumaroles, your sense of building pressure and release.

You feel at home in the park because you trust it. Because you love it.

You don't have room for another team in your heart, but as you walk inside the lodge next to Mike, watching as he takes off his sunglasses and grins at one of the other rangers, you think you at least have room for one more person.

2 Y E A R S B E F O R E

The lab has two extra bodies in it—two extra unwelcome bodies who keep getting in your way and touching things as they ask questions that no one has the answers to yet.

“When did you say this was going to happen?” The rotund state governor, Dhalis Zachary, asks for the second time since arriving, picking up a sample test tube that Moblit immediately plucks from his hand with a nervous smile.

“As I said before, it’s difficult to place a concrete timeline on an event like this,” Erwin tells the white-haired man. “We don’t exactly have in depth records of the last three eruptions, so all we have to go off of is the earth itself and our simulations.”

At the edge of the projection table, Nile Dok, FEMA director, cautiously waves a hand through the holographic model displayed in front of him. He obviously doesn’t think anyone is watching him because the slender man jumps in surprise when you snort at your desk, and his angular cheekbones take on a pink tint of embarrassment from having been caught.

He clears his throat, straightens the knot that sits over it, then turns to face Erwin and prompts, “Three eruptions before. One was a lot bigger than the others, though, right?”

Erwin nods. “Huckleberry Ridge. Over two million years ago.”

“We’re hoping—if a supereruption is to occur—it’ll be closer to the size of Mesa Falls,” you pipe up.

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

“One-point-three million years ago, two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers of erupted materials…” Levi lists off as he makes his way over to the table with a sanitary wipe in hand. He doesn’t like people in his space, doesn’t like strangers in the lab, even (especially) government officials (“They leave fingerprints, and they breathe on everything, and they waste our fucking time.”).

“Two-hundred-and-eighty cubic kilometers… That’s the best-case scenario?” Zachary looks to Erwin, eyebrows raised high over his wire glasses.

Erwin stares at him for a moment, contemplating the best and easiest way to explain this to someone who has no real experience in the field. Eventually, he settles on, “Moblit, can you run some simulations for me?”

“Of course, sir,” the mousy scientist agrees, phone in hand and pulling up the app before the boss can even finish speaking.

Everyone gathers around the table except for Levi who steps away from it, grumbling under his breath about coming back to clean it later. He at least hits the lights, making the model easier to see as Erwin starts listing off numbers and scenarios.

“The best case, actually, is only one vent opening, maybe two. It would be something comparable to Mount St. Helen’s, though probably a bit bigger, say point-five cubic kilometers of material. It would be necessary to evacuate the park and this region of the state at the very least.”

Zachary hums, “And, how likely is that?”

Erwin shrugs. “Hard to say right now. As the earthquakes increase, though, the likelihood of a small eruption like that, uh, dwindles.”

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

Zachary makes a similar noise, slightly louder, a little more offended, then rattles off, “Mount St. Helen’s killed almost sixty people. The blast, the ash, the lahars—” as if you don’t all already know.

“No one’s discounting the damage of the eruption,” Levi cuts him off. “But, if you’re sweatin’ at those numbers, all due respect, Governor, I don’t know if you’re ready to stomach the rest of this little light show.”

The older man cuts his eyes at Levi who squints right back at him, only turn and shuffle over to his desk when Erwin waves him further away, a silent way of saying ‘keep your smart mouth away from the authority figures’.

“Moving on,” you cough, twirling a finger to get both Erwin and Mobs to continue.

“Yes,” Erwin nods. “So, any eruption is dependent on how much magma in the chamber is eruptible magma. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it will come out.”

Moblit punches in a few numbers to show what a small-scale eruption would look like, first with one vent then with two.

“With just that amount, even with two vents, it isn’t enough to completely destabilize the chamber.”

“And, destabilizing it would be… bad…” Nile states more than asks, brown eyes lit up by the model in front of him.

“No shit,” everyone hears Levi grumble from his desk, and Erwin huffs and looks at you, expression a little exasperated as he jerks a thumb back toward the grumpy man in yet another one of his silent motions— a plea in this case—'go take care of him’ which you do.

Levi is slumped in his computer chair, arms crossed over his chest as he peers over his desktop at the four men gathered around the hologram.

“Should’a just gone with Hange and the boy scout to collect samples when I had the chance,” he mutters.

“You hate collecting samples, especially sulfur samples. Which is what they’re getting now.”

“Yeah, well I hate these guys even more.” He says it quietly enough so that they won’t be able to hear, and even if they could, both Governor Zachary and Nile are too invested in the information that the scientists are giving them to pay attention to anything else.

“What’d they ever do to you?” You push, curious now because sure, Levi has always been the surliest of the team, but it’s rare that he’s surly and loud about it.

“Nothing. They have done nothing because they don’t belong here. They have no idea—no fucking idea—what’s about to happen.” You can hear his frustration even through his whispers. “Best case scenarios? Why are we even going over those? We know damn well that we’re not looking at one or two vents. And, we’re not lookin’ at Mesa Falls either.”

Letting out a long breath, you lean against Levi’s desk, ignoring the way he grunts in protest.

“I know. I’m sure Erwin and Moblit will prep them for the worst case.”

“There’s no prepping for it,” Levi hisses, gray eyes flashing. “We’re talking about—"

“…A nationwide cataclysmic event.” Both of you register Erwin’s voice at the same time and glance at the other group to find them staring at the lit-up simulation of the Huckleberry Ridge eruption.

“Which would pretty quickly turn into a worldwide problem,” Moblit adds quietly.

“Worldwide?” You hear Nile question in a low but very alarmed tone. “Because of the ash?”

“Well, yes, but, it’s not just ash,” Erwin clarifies, diving into his explanation of tephra and how dangerous it is. He reminds the men how far it traveled after the Mount St. Helen’s eruption since they’ve apparently latched onto that one, then challenges, “Now imagine an eruption about… six hundred times that size.”

“Six…” Nile swallows, turning his entire, slender frame toward Erwin and repeating, “Six hundred times bigger? That’s what we’re expecting?”

In his little rolling chair, Levi’s chest puffs a bit, finally satisfied that the gravity of the situation is beginning to set in. “Maybe they aren’t as dumb as they look.”

Erwin is about to say something, right hand lifted with his index finger extended in a very matter-of-fact way, but before he can manage to get anything out, the door to the lab swings open and Hange walks in, Mike just behind them carrying all the collected samples in what almost looks like a lunchbox.

“We’re back—” Hange stops, taking in their surroundings, the lack of lights, the bright projection, the grim energy, then shouts, “Hey, get some Pink Floyd playing! Like a planetarium in here! Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me…”

“Dr. Zoe,” Moblit clears his throat. “We were just going over the utter devastation a supereruption could wreak on the country.”

“Oh, were you?” Hange pauses, brow rising, lips puckering into a sour expression. “My bad.”

Raising a hand to your forehead, you laugh to yourself for a few seconds before shaking the untimely amusement off and making your way over to Mike to take the sample kit from him.

“Careful,” he warns jokingly as he passes it off. “Got some very fragile gas and mud in there.”

“Yeah?” You tease. “So, I shouldn’t, like, shake it or anything?”

“Definitely should not shake it. Here, here, just—” He takes it back, grinning broadly as he tells you, “I think it’s best if you let a professional handle such dangerous compounds.”

All the doom-and-gloom you had been feeling mere seconds ago evaporates entirely, and you let out a frankly embarrassing giggle as you watch Mike very carefully set the samples down on Hange’s lab table, making a show of securing them and whispering a final, “Stay,” so that you clamp a hand over your mouth.

Levi groans in disgust, and, at the same time, Erwin mutters an apology to Zachary and Nile for, “… employing a team of children.”

Your face heats in embarrassment, but it doesn’t keep you from smiling at Mike when he saunters back over, looking rather sheepish himself.

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

“Please go now, for the love of God,” Erwin sighs. “And, take Levi and Hange with you.”

None of you need telling twice, quickly grabbing wallets and home-packed meals before rushing from the lab before your boss decides to murder one or all of you.

Levi steers Hange toward his car, leaving you alone with Mike which you don’t mind in the slightest. You take most of your lunches with him anyway, some of your breakfasts and dinners too, so this is simply part of your daily routine.

“I’ve got some sandwiches packed already. Wanna hit Mount Haynes?” He suggests, sliding into the driver’s seat of his jeep.

You point a fingergun at him and nod. “I like the way you think, sir.”

He takes a very specific route, avoiding any damaged areas, having to veer off of the actual road at a certain point to take a safer path he and other rangers have made. You watch the mountains of the park grow closer and closer, what you know to be the ridge of Yellowstone’s caldera looming nearer.

Mike parks at the base of your intended destination then reaches into the backseat to grab the aforementioned lunch. You have no intentions of actually hiking to the top of the mountain—don’t have the time or the will, honestly—but as soon as the two of you have worked up a sweat and are at a decent enough elevation to look out on the park underneath, you drop to the dusty ground and take it all in.

Even from this distance, you can see some of the gases and steam in the air. That’s the only movement there is, though, save for the occasional ranger vehicle zipping along. The land seems almost barren at this point. The grass is still green. The sun is still bright as it is every Summer.

But, there are no animals, no tourists, no real life. Instead, it’s been replaced with cracks and crevasses, with barricades and warning signs.

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

It’s been almost six months since the park decided to shut down to the public, and if you’re being honest, it should have closed its doors long before. It took people dying to bring the board to their senses, an earthquake that shook the ground for minutes, the crust of the earth splitting right under the historical lodge that so many loved.

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

You barely recognize the park now, feel like the last endangered species left within its boundaries. It’s just the research team, some of the rangers, and the occasional outside visitor (board members, government officials, or press that gets waved away).

Some would argue that the park is dead, but you know better; it’s livelier than it has been in hundreds of thousands of years, a shuddering, breathing monster finally rising to its feet after an eternity of slumber. Soon, it will open its mouth in an earth-shattering scream, and then, everyone will see.

Not dead; just waking up.

“You look tired.” Mike’s voice may as well be carried by the breeze, light and low, refreshing as it passes over you, and you flash him a smile while nodding.

“Exhausted.”

He grabs a sandwich from the lunchbox, and you fish hand sanitizer from one of the many pockets on your pants, squirting it into your hand first then holding it out to the man beside you.

“Seems like you spend more time here than at your apartment.”

“Oh, most definitely.” You unwrap what looks to be turkey and pepper-jack and try to ignore the way your stomach flips at the fact that it’s your favorite simple-sandwich-combo and that Mike remembered. “Lot to do in the lab. Obviously.” You take a bite—no mustard, only mayo—and feel some of the tension between your shoulder blades begin to unwind.

“Figure you wouldn’t want it any other way, though,” Mike comments before chomping into his own sandwich.

“Right you are. I mean, end of the world, potentially. Scary stuff, but also…” You swallow, lick your lips and stare out at the landscape in front of you as you grapple with words. “It’s like… I’m terrified, but I feel like I’m exactly where I need to be. Like…”

This is how I’m supposed to go out, you almost say, but you’re smart to keep it to yourself. That’s a thought for you and you alone, one you haven’t shared with anyone because nobody else would understand except maybe Erwin.

“This is what you’re meant to do,” Mike supplies, and you look over at him. “This is what you love. I get that.”

And, he’s right. But, the park and volcanology—those aren’t the only things you love.

Mike sits there, legs crossed like an overgrown kindergartener, shaggy hair blowing in the wind, light green eyes so, incredibly warm and bright, and it feels like you can’t breathe anymore, like your lungs and throat are already full of ash that hasn’t fallen yet, tight with dying declarations you can’t bring yourself to make.

“Have you ever heard of Katia and Maurice Krafft?” You ask, and yes, your voice does feel somewhat strangled, the space behind your eyes burning just a little hotter than usual.

Mike shakes his head, takes another bite, and gives you his undivided attention.

“They were these French volcanologists who got really famous for the pictures and footage they took of erupting volcanoes. The recordings they got for the community were—I mean, they were pioneers. They changed the game. There’s photos and videos of them just—” you gesture nebulously with both your hands, nearly flinging your sandwich off the side of the mountain and making Mike reach out and catch your wrist before you can.

“Please, no feeding the park’s wildlife, ma’am,” he jokes easily, and you have to shove the sandwich into your mouth to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl. Mike shows the smallest of satisfied smiles, completely unaware of his own charm, and it’s maddening and intoxicating, and it’s all you can do to keep talking about the brave scientists.

“Anyway,” you continue. “Katia would get, like, within feet of lava flows. Just walkin’ right beside ‘em in her special heat suit. And, they’d wear protective helmets because of, you know—”

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

“Yeah, exactly. They were just there, documenting it all happening, nerves of fucking steel. Katia was usually the one gathering samples and stuff while Maurice recorded, but he was right in the thick of it too. This badass couple learning and adventuring together.”

Mike eventually questions, “What happened to them?” but you’re sure he knows the answer when you deflate a bit.

“Mount Unzen eruption—got caught in the pyroclastic flow. Died instantly.”

“At least they were doing what they loved,” he says, and you nod.

You’re silent for a while, neither of you eating but both of you staring. You think about the Kraffts often, especially now with Yellowstone’s imminent eruption. Doing what they loved… They died for their research, and though you never got the chance to meet them or even speak with anyone who has met them, you have a feeling they wouldn’t have wanted it to happen any other way.

“Just so you know,” Mike gets your attention, and when you look over at him, your heart swells.

The sun is reflected in his eyes, making light green glow with more than just warmth and sincerity, and god, you’re so in love with him, you can feel it in your bone marrow. You ache for him, you pine for him, and you want to live for him, but how…

“I’d film you walking next to a lava flow,” he tells you. Despite the little smile playing at his lips, you know he isn’t kidding.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look away before any actually fall, but your sniffle definitely gives you away. You swear internally, berating yourself for getting emotional in front of Mike, though you can’t say you’re too surprised. Your stress levels have been through the roof, working non-stop for months now, the government breathing down your neck. People have died and the park is literally fracturing before your eyes, and you’re not ready to see it end—to see everything as you know it come to an end.

“Pretty dusty up here,” Mike comments while nudging you. You find him holding out a handkerchief, letting you take it then turning his gaze forward again to allow you a little privacy to dab at your eyes.

Mike has senses beyond the normal human spectrum. He has a sense for weather unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before, from thunderstorms and tornadoes to record snowfall and, on a few occasions, earthquakes. You can still vividly remember being in the lab the day of the fatal quake that damaged the hotel, seeing Mike suddenly look at the seismogram seconds before it started picking up the first tremors. Levi had called it “freakish”, but you had called him “incredible”.

It’s not just the weather, though. Mike has a way with people and animals too, like he can gauge their emotions and act appropriately. It’s how he knows what days he can push Levi’s buttons and get away with it, how he knows when Hange is too busy and overwhelmed to gather samples themself, so he gathers some for them.

And, it’s how he knows exactly when he needs to pull you into a hug, like when the team realized the chances of a small to moderate eruption were next to nothing, like when he had told you how many of those hotel guests had gotten hurt and died and you’d stared at him with wide, watery eyes, and like right now, as you think about Katia and Maurice Krafft, the fate they met and how yours might not be any different.

Will you die doing what you love? Will you be able to welcome it as bravely as they did?

You rest your head on Mike’s shoulder, letting yourself melt into his side, his arm sturdy and grounding where it wraps around you, and as you look out over the sunlit grounds, one last question plagues your mind:

Does a pyroclastic flow burn as hot as the molten feelings inside of you?

You can’t imagine anything does.

1 Y E A R B E F O R E

The message is broadcasted straight from the state capitol, Levi's expression grim as he reads off the paper hidden on the podium.

"I know all of this sounds apocalyptic—the ash and blackouts and probable climate change, and it is scary, but we still have some time, so there's no reason to panic. We just urge that if you haven't already started preparing, now's the time. Please."

A couple steps behind him and a little to the right is Erwin, standing tall and nodding at everything Levi says as if he's providing some kind of credibility.

"Considering we're looking at a VEI eight, the team of volcanologists at Yellowstone have recommended that all of Wyoming and its neighboring states evacuate, but I'll let Homeland Security go over all that."

As he turns to step back, the crowd of reporters and journalists begin shouting out questions, and Levi grimaces as he moves to stand next to Erwin who places a hand in his shoulder.

You can't hear everything being asked from where you're watching at the lab, but you can't imagine it's anything good judging by the way Levi's frown just keeps growing.

Fortunately, the vaguely familiar secretary of Homeland Security, Dot Pixis, takes the stand quickly, holding up wrinkled hands in an attempt to calm the crowd.

"We have some more very important information to cover in this address, so if you'll allow me…" He clears his throat and straightens a stack of papers on the podium, no doubt a huge list of protocols that the public will only half listen to.

You swivel back and forth in your chair as you watch the thin man on screen, his voice scratchy but strangely soothing as he outlines rationing, supply storage, and evacuation routes.

"We're also negotiating with our neighboring countries about opening borders. Now, anyone seeking refuge would still be required to fill out an application for a temporary visa, but—"

"God, you know they gotta love that," you mumble to yourself.

Hange, tinkering somewhere behind you, laughs and agrees, "Yeah, after decades of treating immigrants like trash, and now we're just knocking on their doors, asking for help. Ridiculous."

"Embarrassing, is what it is."

It was for whichever government official had to make that call, anyway. You're positive that had been a hard pill to swallow.

As far as you've heard, the foreign affairs part of this mess is actually going quite well. You'd accompanied Erwin to the big meeting with Canadian officials and watched him and Pixis plead a case for America, emphasizing just how bad the eruption will be "at home", then switched tactics at whiplash speed to go into how countries needed to work together since this wouldn't just be the US's problem in the long run.

It turned into a rather inspiring speech, if you're being honest, prompted you to text Levi a short, how is E so damn charming all the time? to which he'd responded, Believe me, you're asking the wrong fuckin guy.

With multiple government agencies now backing the states and setting plans in motion, the impending eruption seems even more real. You thought your stress levels were high before, that your sleep pattern left little to be desired, but oh, you had been wrong.

Case in point being Mike walking into the lab with a brown paper bag and slightly unpleasant expression as he asks, "Have you eaten today?"

Your glare has no real meaning as you grumble, "Had a granola bar this morning."

"It's nearly six," he groans, pushing you, chair and all, up to your desk and setting the bag in front of you. "Please eat something before you pass out."

"Okay, okay, Christ. You're more attentive than my mother."

"I met your mom last year, and you and I both know she would be hysterical if she knew how you've been treating yourself lately."

He has a point. In fact, you're glad Mike is naturally quiet and didn't bond too strongly with her, otherwise you have a feeling he would have called her by now to complain.

The chicken salad sandwich you bite into must be imbued with some kind of magic, because you let out an honest to god moan when you swallow the first bite.

"Oh my god, what did you put in this?" You ask as you blink up at your best friend.

Mike snorts and rolls his eyes. "Uh, actual nutrients maybe? Weird how your body needs those."

Hands too busy shoving more food into your mouth, you headbutt him right at the hip, just hard enough to make him grunt and sway. He steadies himself, glances down at you like he's annoyed but ends up breaking into a grin when he catches what you assume to be a piece of chicken salad dotting the corner of your mouth.

"What am I gonna do with you," he mumbles, wiping it with a gentle thumb.

Your body warms with both embarrassment and affection, but you can't quite find a response even as your head clears for the first time in about two days. You really do need to start taking better care of yourself.

The undeniable feeling of being watched makes your neck prickle, and you break Mike's gaze to find Hange staring at both of you, a not-so-subtle smile making their mouth curl mischievously. You have a pretty good idea of what they're thinking, and you're heart starts beating a little faster at the thought of them possibly speaking it out loud, but before they get a chance, Mike's phone rings.

You catch a glimpse of the name displayed before he picks it up—Gelgar—recognize it and tease, "One of the doomsday preppers, right?"

Because no matter how much Mike denies it, just like he does now— "They're not doomsday preppers—" you know that his friends are a little odd. Extremely well prepared, but odd.

"Hey man, what's up?" He answers, stepping away from you. "Isn't it almost two there?"

You don't try to listen in, just look back to Hange and shake your head when their smile grows.

"Stop."

"What?" They giggle. "I'm not even doing anything!"

"You're thinking things, though."

"Well yeah, I'm always thinking things. How else would I have gotten this smart?" They flip their ponytail for emphasis and toss a wink your way, but Hange's voice gets oddly sincere when they tell you, "Seriously, though. You guys should get while the getting's good. I don't know why you haven't jumped each other's bones yet."

You splutter, look around frantically to make sure Mike isn't within earshot, and thank god, he's in the next room over.

"Hange!"

"I'm just saying! It's like watching Erwin and Levi from a few years ago. God, that was a nightmare."

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

"Yeah, yeah. When do they get back in anyway?"

You both look to the TV that's still playing the live address, easily spotting your missing team members behind Secretary Pixis.

"Probably not 'til later tonight. Levi's gonna try to talk Erwin into getting a hotel, I bet, but he's gonna wanna come back to the lab and check everything before he goes to bed."

"How do you know he wants to come back?"

You show a sheepish grin, fishing the chips out of the paper sack Mike brought, then answer, "'Cause that’s what I’d wanna do."

It's late. Far too late to be at work, but being at home never feels right these days. It's too quiet, too still, too not the lab. The only time you genuinely enjoy being there is when friends are over for a movie or meal over the weekend. Other than that, you're not at all attached.

Not the way you are here.

Almost midnight, you move from table to table, working, organizing, just keeping busy. You're very awake, still jittery from the quake that shook the park at around three that day. It lasted for almost three minutes, splitting the ground dangerously close to Old Faithful, and the geyser hasn't gone off since which is troubling. If too many of the geothermal spots stop releasing pressure, the eruption will take place sooner than anticipated.

It's why you're here so late, pouring over the data, studying the numbers and possible effects.

You're not alone, though. Erwin is also shuffling around the lab, but he's focused on something else, a project of sorts.

"Can you come take a look at this?" He calls from the projection table, and you drop what you're doing to join him.

The model isn't lit up as a hologram, surprisingly. Instead, Erwin has paper blueprints laid, curling at the edges from being rolled up. It takes you a second to realize what you're looking at, but when it comes together, you inhale sharply.

It's a simple design, a square floorplan with a couple entrances. The only exit looks to lead upward, though, and it's easy to tell that means Erwin wants this to be underground. There are notes scribbled in the blank spaces, 4 meters down, bomb proof top, ventilation, generators, gasoline?, rations < 5yrs, medicine, vitamins, guns. The list goes on, handwriting sloppier and sloppier the more thoughts Erwin had at the time.

"You think this would be ready in a year?"

Erwin shrugs. "With the right construction team, yes. That one bunker designer…" Erwin snaps, trying to think of the name, but it doesn't come to him. "Whoever—He built ten shelters in two years."

You stick your hands in your back pockets as you lean over to look closer. It could just be your overworked brain, but it looks like a good design, something someone actually has a chance of surviving in.

Hearing your name makes you look up again. Erwin has you pinned with one of his serious blue gazes. "No one else will understand, so please keep this plan to yourself."

You nod but venture to ask, "You haven't told Levi?"

"No," he answers, mouth pulling downward. "It's… Going to be a fight."

"Understandably so. You're basically married to the volcano, though, Erwin."

"So are you."

His eyes are shining as your lips twist into a grimace. He's gotten to know you well over the years. You've always shared a certain bond over Yellowstone, one the other team members just don't have. To them, it's just a job, just science.

To you and Erwin, though, it's a religion. You're in love with the park, all its secrets and eccentricities. It's your home; it's where you belong.

"Assuming this does get built," Erwin starts, lifting a thick eyebrow in curiosity. "You would want to stay, right?"

"You mean, ride out a supereruption? Be the first to see the zone-one damage?"

Erwin doesn't answer, but he does smile, excitement dancing just below the surface of his stare.

You feel it too, the urge to throw caution to the wind, to take a chance that could very possibly get you both killed. The Kraffts flash through your mind again, their failed attempt at escape.

A breathless, "Fuck yeah," tumbles from your mouth before you can dwell on the consequences for too long.

It's time to either live it up or go down in ash and flames.

6 M O N T H S B E F O R E

Yellowstone is unrecognizable. The ground is mostly made up of large crevasses and smaller cracks, debris from fallen buildings left in piles with no one to clean them up.

The geysers are all inactive at this point, but steam is still rising from the springs, and the mudpots are still bubbling. It's the only thing that's keeping the volcano from erupting.

The ground shakes multiple times a day, the lab seismographs constantly picking up activity. The little ones don't faze you anymore. You and Mike secure the glass samples to make sure they don't break while Erwin and Levi basically hug their computers. Yours was damaged in the quake that prompted Hange and Moblit to leave—a 6.7 that caused Hange to fall into their desk, breaking their collarbone in the process. After getting Hange pain meds and a sling, the two of them were on a plane to D.C. that same night.

Every day is another risk taken. Now, it's just you, Erwin, Levi, and Mike.

The latter two spend most of their days dropping hints about leaving soon as well. Mike has already made plans to fly to Norway and join his not-doomsday prepper friends and brings it up often.

"You should come. See the tulip fields while they're still around."

"Gel and Nana have done a great job setting up the ranch. They wanna let as many people stay as they can."

"You'd really like them. They bicker like an old married couple, but they're good people."

Levi takes a different approach with Erwin, appeals to the other man's desire to help and protect.

"We really should head to the homeland security office. They don't know what they're dealing with."

"Dok is an idiot. They need a bigger brain over there for guidance or whatever."

"Your long-term plan will be better than anything those government fucks will come up with anyway."

Every time, you and Erwin gently wave them off with promises of "soon" and "just a little longer." Neither of you breathe a word about staying. Despite the fact that construction on the bunker has not started and you're running out of time, both of you are dead set on the plan: go down with the park.

You're found out before it can come to fruition, however.

The remaining team is sitting in the lab, busy with their own little projects, when Mike looks up suddenly, takes a deep breath, then says, "Earthquake," just as the seismogram starts going wild.

He pulls you from your chair quickly, dropping to the ground and bringing you with him to crawl under your desk. On your knees, your body curls in on itself and you lock your hands over the back of your neck as the floor beneath you starts to rumble violently.

You can hear Levi cursing from somewhere as the sound of glass shattering rings throughout the lab. You think another computer falls, models and books flying from shelves.

Mike huddles over you, one hand gripping the leg of the desk while the other protects your ribs. You want to tell him to shield himself, but you know there's no use. Besides, the weight and warmth is comforting even in the face of danger—his chest hot against your back, the epitome of a knight in shining armor.

It lasts for several minutes. The power cuts off, windows crack, doors swing open only to slam shut again. You know the lab is going to be an absolute wreck when it's over.

When the shaking finally settles, everyone crawls out of their hiding places. Levi warns, "Be ready for aftershocks," as if you don't know, and Erwin fumbles in his desk until he finds a flashlight.

The ray of light illuminates the damage. Just as you suspected, the place looks like a tornado blew through. Glass litters the floor along with the far-flung books and park models. Both Levi and Erwin's computers fell and disconnected, and your stomach drops as you think about all the potentially lost information.

"You okay?" Mike asks, pulling you up to your knees so he can look at your face.

"I'm fine," you tell him, his hands on your cheeks making you flush, so you distract yourself. "E, Levi, you guys okay?"

"Yes," Erwin answers first.

Levi shows his face, a deep frown making his brow furrow, as he looks at his desktop. "I'm pissed but uninjured."

The four of you spend the next couple of hours cleaning up what you can, pausing and taking cover when the aftershocks hit, then starting over as the lab sustains more and more damage.

Mike sweeps up the glass. Erwin focuses on getting the computers back on the desks safely then goes and checks the projection table. You and Levi collect the bigger items, setting books back on shelves.

You don't think about the mistake before it's too late, when Levi is already pulling out the blueprints that were hidden behind the stack of encyclopedias.

As he stills completely, you turn to look at him and find him staring down at the large, uncurled papers. Your instinct is to snatch them from his hands, but it's no use. He's already seen enough.

"What the fuck is this?" His voice comes out like poison as he immediately looks at Erwin.

The larger man glances at Levi, eyes trailing to what he's holding, then pales.

"Levi..."

"Is this a god damn bunker? Are you planning on staying in this hellscape?"

Erwin strides over to him and reaches for the prints, but Levi tugs them out of reach.

"Answer me," he spits. "Is that your plan?"

"I—" Erwin swallows thickly before answering, "Yes."

It's silent for a long time, and the more it drags on, the tighter Levi's lips get, gray eyes shiny with quiet rage.

This is what Erwin was trying to avoid, why he insisted on keeping the bunker a secret.

But while Levi is glaring at Erwin, you feel another gaze on you. Skin crawling, you chance a glance up at Mike, stomach churning when he looks away quickly and bites his lips. He knows. Somehow without anyone saying anything, Mike knows you’re planning to stay too.

Heavy breathing and the distant sound of rumbling earth is all that can be heard, followed by backup generators roaring to life and restoring the overhead lights.

"You too?" Mike finally speaks. “You wanna stay too?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unable to answer. He sounds so disappointed—defeated—and it makes you feel sick.

"Do you guys know," Levi growls, "How fucking insane that is? This is the dumbest, most reckless, selfish fucking thing you could do! And, I know it's all your thinking!" He drops the blueprints in favor of shoving Erwin roughly, making him stumble back.

"Hey," you step toward him, but the small man just turns to you and accuses, "And, you egged him on, yeah? Did you even think of us? How we would feel? Staying here is suicide!"

"I have a plan, Levi," Erwin says, raising both hands to his head and effectively disheveling his own hair. "If you just look at the plans. I know what we need to survive. I've done the math, I've studied the—"

"Jesus Christ, we're talking about an eight hundred degree pyroclastic flow! Tephra that will suffocate you. You really think being a few meters down during the eruption will be enough?" Levi is screaming now, his voice cracking, and you think you see tears at his waterline.

It makes the spaces behind your eyes burn, but it’s only partly out of guilt. The other emotion that’s welling up in you is anger, a betrayal you can barely wrap your head around, but it comes tumbling out anyway.

“Do you even know us? You think we can actually leave the park behind?” Your voice rises to match Levi’s, gains his acidic attention once again. “I don’t even understand how you can run away, after everything you’ve put into this place! How can you just—” You let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a cry as you raise your hands to your face and shove your palms to your eyes. “I get Mike because he doesn’t have anything fucking left here. He’s just been helping out—”

“You think I don’t have anything left here?” He asks quietly from beside you, and when you look at him with a watery stare, you find him wounded. His jaw slides forward as he sucks on his teeth, and fuck, his eyes are getting glossy too.

“See, this is exactly what I mean,” Levi gestures wildly at the two of you. “Mike and I have stayed because you guys won’t fucking leave, and now it comes out that you were never planning to. When were you gonna tell us? Would you have even given us enough time to get out?”

“Of course!” Erwin takes him by the shoulders, and Levi snarls up at him. “I was working up to it. I wasn’t ready to—to deal with this.”

“I can’t believe this. You really think a whole team of workers is gonna come out here to help build this? You wanna put their lives in jeopardy too?”

“We—”

“You haven’t even thought this through all the way! When did you come up with this? When you hadn’t slept or eaten in forty-eight hours? When your brain wasn’t fucking functioning at full capacity?”

Erwin stays quiet, and so do you because Levi has a point. Taking care of yourselves physically has not been high on either of your lists of priorities, and you’re sure your mental state has suffered for it. All the nights spent at the projection table, mapping out ideas, growing giddy over the idea of staying for the eruption. Was that just two people high off passion, becoming more and more unhinged with each passing day?

Quite possibly.

You expect the fury to be enough to push Levi away, that he’ll simply give up, drag Mike out with him, and leave you and Erwin to hunker down like you’d planned.

But, that is not the case.

Instead, he shoves a thin finger into Erwin’s chest, gritting out, “Pack your fucking bags so we can go to D.C. where they need you.”

Erwin takes a breath then slumps in defeat. Now, when faced with the obstacle that is his boyfriend, you figure he’s weighed the pros and cons and made a decision. Between his love for the park and his love for Levi, he’d rather salvage the latter.

Mike shifts next to you, grumbles out a low, “You too,” that makes the tears finally fall from your eyes. “I’ll take you on one last ride to the springs, but then we’re leaving.”

He stays true to his word, and you cry the entire time you’re in the chopper, headset smushed against one ear as you rest your head on the window and look down at the Grand Prismatic, the steam rising from it. It’s beginning to grow discolored with all the activity, but it’s more stunning now than it’s ever been.

Soon, it��ll be completely covered. All of it will. And, you could have been too, stuck underground for a couple of years only to be the first to step out into the pure destruction.

That’s not an option anymore, though, not with Mike looking as grave as he does, not with the way he shadows you in your apartment as you gather the necessities, like he thinks you’re going to bolt and run back to the lab, not when the two of you meet back up with a still-fuming Levi and a despondent Erwin to head to the airport.

The tickets are outrageously priced at such short notice, but that doesn’t stop Levi and Mike from passing their credit cards over.

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

Boarding passes in hand, the four of you walk through the bustling airport together for as long as you can before you have to inevitably split up. Levi glares at you but still pulls you into a tight hug, grunts into your ear, “You’re so stupid,” before letting go and turning to Mike. “Keep her safe, boy scout. I’m trusting you.”

Mike nods, and both of them clasp hands as you turn to look at Erwin. Tears and pathetic sniffles return when you walk into his open arms, clinging to him and mumbling, “‘M sorry, ‘m sorry. I would’ve followed you.”

“I know.” He rubs your back and heaves a sigh. “I know you would have.”

He eventually disentangles you to hold you at arm’s length, wipes the moisture from your face with his thumbs, then shows a sad smile. “See you in a few years, yes?”

“Yeah.”

One more squeeze, and everyone turns away to walk to their respective gate. Mike’s hand splays across your back, warm, guiding you in the right direction, keeping you steady. He’s always kept your feet planted firmly on the ground. You figure, if there’s one person you’d like to experience the downfall of society with—above ground—it’s him.

S I X W E E K S B E F O R E

Norway is kind of incredible. It has a natural beauty that takes your breath away just like Yellowstone used to, but it’s vastly different. Everything is green, including the lights in the sky at night. You’re surrounded by rolling hills and mountains, and you just know it’ll be beautiful under thick layers of snow.

The once rustic ranch, now restored, is made up of several small houses and a farm full of cows and goats. It’s sad to think about the fate they will eventually meet (slaughter then stomachs), but you know it’s necessary to prepare for the coming years.

And, the owners have definitely prepared.

Gelgar and Nanaba are everything Mike described and more. Between taking care of the farm and setting up energy sources, they do their best to make you and the other arrivals feel at home. They’ve designed the ranch to house up to about thirty people, a commune of sorts (minus any cult-like vibes). Naturally, everyone pitches in and helps around the place. You find yourself cleaning a lot, but you don’t mind. It’s a nice, mindless task that keeps you from thinking too hard about everything you’ve left behind.

You also like to join Nana outside, help with the animals and enjoy the sunshine while you still can. Of course, this subjects you to endless teasing especially today when she catches you staring into the distance at Mike who's helping Gelgar fix a solar panel.

His shirt is starting to stick to his back from sweating, muscles straining under the damp cloth, and good lord, when did he get that broad? Sure, he's always been tall and fit, but working on the homestead has definitely made him more built. That along with the fact that his hair has gotten long enough to tie up in a bun has your mouth going a little dry.

"Like what you see?" Nanaba asks, accent thick, voice full of amusement.

You shoot her a look, face all scrunched up when you mumble, "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh?" She sticks her tongue out. "Don't be coy. I see the way you both look at each other."

"Tch."

"And, how both of you volunteer to cook with the other when it's your turn to. You move around each other like you know exactly where the other is. Two halves of a whole."

You roll your eyes. "We've just worked together for a while. We make a good team."

She's not wrong, though. Since coming to Norway, you and Mike have grown even closer. There was a period of time when you could hardly look at him, too guilty for trying to stay at the park, guilty for hurting him, but eventually the two of you fell back into your normal dynamic—joking, laughing, touching just a little too much, smiling when you think no one's looking. You even spent an afternoon together in a nearby field of flowers, just like he'd promised. With a picnic basket full of food, and a blanket to lay on, you'd admired the clouds overhead while enjoying the rustling grass surrounding you.

It's been your favorite day since coming here, had reminded you of the lunches you used to share on the mountain.

You're not brave enough to make any sort of move, though. Mike is just so good. There's a chance his affections are simply based in friendship, and that's something you're scared to ruin. He means too much to you.

"How long did you work together?"

"Like, four years, give or take a few months."

"And, you're still acting like nothing is there?" Nanaba tsks. "Ridiculous."

"How long did it take you and Gel to get together?" You ask, then quickly backtrack, "Not that that's what I want with Mike necessarily."

"Mhm," she smirks. "Gel and I did it backwards. Got pissed at a bar and fell into bed together. Then we started to get to know each other and found out we just worked."

Sounds about right, you think. The couple has an interesting back-and-forth, half bickering, half innuendo. You can always, always see the love in their eyes, though. That's what you want in life. That’s what you want with Mike. Even if you won't admit it out loud.

You turn your gaze back to the roof he and Gelgar are on just in time to see him making his way down the ladder. Once on the ground, he and the other man start striding over to you. Mike's face is red, sweat beading at his hairline, and Gelgar's pompadour is beginning to fall.

"Think we got it fixed up," Mike announces, lifting the bottom hem of his shirt to wipe his forehead.

You stare at his toned stomach for just a little too long, the lines of his hip bones leading into the waistband of his jeans.

Nanaba's words ring in your head again—fell into bed, fell into bed, fell into bed—and you fixate on the idea of you and Mike doing the same. To have him hovering over you, or maybe you over him, thighs on either side of those hips as his hands trail up your body—

You shake the thought from your head, letting your glazed eyes refocus on the men in front of you.

"Alright, I'm gonna grab a shower before dinner. Who's cooking tonight?"

“I believe it's Lynne and Henning," Nana answers.

Mike nods then heads toward the little house he's been living in, right next to yours, of course. He reaches out to let his hand brush yours as he passes, and it takes conscious effort not to grip onto one or two of his large fingers and follow him.

"God, that's painful to watch," Gelgar snorts.

Nana laughs and agrees, "I was just telling her the same thing."

"Oh, shut up. Ya' couple of meddlers."

A line forms every evening outside of the main house, the one Gelgar and Nanaba share. You and Mike stand together at the back, watching everyone in front of you. Some are families, some are couples, some are here alone. You figure, no matter their status, the ranch is a nice place to be—peaceful, home-y despite its size. So far, everyone gets along.

Only the kids complain about chores, about seven of them constantly running around together, but that’s to be expected, and honestly, you don’t mind picking up their slack. Life is about to get very difficult for them. They should get to be children for a little while longer.

Potato soup is poured into your bowl with a ladle, topped with shredded beef and green onions, then you and Mike retire back to your little cottage home to eat and watch TV. It stays on the same channel, world news, and there’s always a long segment that covers Yellowstone and what it’s doing.

It is not uncommon at all to look up from your food and see Erwin or Levi’s face on screen, speaking with experts, sometimes in interview-like settings.

Tonight, they’re covering a problem that’s been going on for some time, but everyone figured would resolve itself: some people will not leave the most dangerous zones, and it’s because they simply do not believe an eruption will take place.

Even with the evidence, the science backing it—even with actual federal authorities knocking on their doors and telling them to leave—there are many people who just want to stay put. It’s insane to you, makes your blood boil. Children have been taken from their homes to be placed in safer areas, which only causes the disbelievers to get angrier. They want to say “I told you so”, but that’s not going to happen.

What’s going to happen is getting burned alive in the flow that pours from the volcano. They will die a painful death, get buried under meters of fallout, ash, snow. There’ll be nothing to recover except for petrified, charred corpses.

Of course, the irony is not lost on you; you and Erwin were both willing to chance similar fates, but you still think the two of you would have been more prepared than these regular-Joes who think their front door is enough to stop a volcanic eruption.

“In the end, there’s no reasoning with people like this,” Erwin says on camera, a soft, sad smile playing at his lips. “When a person is so, uh… Dead set on staying, it will take an unstoppable force to move them.”

In your case, that unstoppable force had been Levi screaming at you while holding back tears.

“Unfortunately for them, this force is the eruption, and they won’t be able to leave when that occurs.”

“Because they’ll be dead,” the reporter states more than asks.

Erwin nods and answers with a grim, “Yes. Yes, they will be.”

They’re not trying to be subtle, obviously hoping that this will get through to the stubborn masses, but you doubt it will. They’re living on borrowed time at this point. Any day could be their last.

Mike is quieter than usual as he eats, barely even looking at the television screen, and you have a feeling he’s thinking about how close you were to staying alongside those stupid assholes. It’s still a touchy subject, one both of you do your best to avoid. You’re mostly happy to be in Europe, spending your days with Mike and his friends and everyone else running around here.

But, there’s also a part of you, deep down inside, that aches, that misses the park, that still wants to be right in the middle of the destruction. Watching it blow from so far away is going to hurt. This massive monster you’ve fallen in love with over the years will never be the same, and your last good look at it was that tearful helicopter ride.

You’re not resentful toward Mike or Levi for dragging you out of the lab that day, but you are grieving in a sense.

The program ends with Erwin giving one last warning— “If you insist on staying, I’d advise bomb-proofing your home, stocking up on several years-worth of rations, and installing one hell of a ventilation system. Good luck.”

Mike clears his throat and stands, grabbing his empty bowl as well as yours, then heads into the kitchen to rinse them off.

Sighing, you follow him, lean against the counter a couple feet away as you think of something to say that won’t sound too forced.

“Hey,” you start.

Mike gives a low, “Hm?” as he holds the dishes under hot water, finally glancing over when you gently nudge him in the side.

“Thanks for…” You take a deep breath, pinned by light green eyes, then try again. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He blinks but doesn’t say anything, so you continue. “It’s really nice. And, I’ve bonded or whatever with Nana.”

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

You shrug. “I mean, yeah. That park was my life, but… Probably dying in it was not one of my brighter ideas.”

He snorts, shuts off the water, then turns to you. Craning your neck, you take in his face—really take it in—the few strands of hair that hang freely past his jawline, the way his beard, no longer stubble but not exactly thick, forms around his mouth and connects with his sideburns, his strong, slightly curved nose, how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. He’s so painfully handsome, especially all shaggy and rugged, and it makes your heart beat too hard and too fast in your chest.

Mike dries his hands on a dish towel, looking down at them when he tells you, “I’m glad we were able to get you out of there. It’s not something I’ll ever feel bad about. Even if you hate me for it.”

“I don’t hate you,” you scoff. “Never could. You’re my best friend, Mike.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, then think of Nanaba earlier that day and laugh quietly.

“What?”

You wave a hand, shake your head. “Nothing, nothing, just… Nana has… Ideas, or something.”

There’s no need to elaborate. Mike understands what you’re trying to say. He inhales then breathes out it out in a chuckle as he posts up against the counter next to you. “Yeah, Gelgar does too.”

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

A silence hangs between the two of you, one that would normally be comfortable but is now a little thick given the subject matter of your conversation.

You and Mike. Just earlier that day you had been thinking about how scared you are to ruin the friendship, but the more you imagine, the more you get lost in the fantasy…

“Or maybe…” You glance over to see Mike nibbling on his bottom lip, eyes fixed on the ground as he continues, “Maybe they know us better than we know ourselves.”

He raises his head, gaze locking with yours, and you stop breathing. Because that stare is so hesitant, searching for something inside of you as if you have the answer, but you’re just as scared and confused as he is. Over four years of friendship—of good, meaningful friendship—is that worth risking just because you’re both curious?

Or has it all been leading to this since the start? Since those first, short conversations, since the meals shared with one another, the affectionate gestures. Mike has always kept your head on straight, looked after you with even more care than he had with the park’s wildlife.

You thought it’d all been one-sided pining, that he was just glad to have someone who understood him a little better than everyone else because you do. You understand his passion for the planet, you understand all his little fixations. You appreciate every eccentricity like he appreciates all your neuroses.

“Maybe so…”

Two very large hands are on your face, tilting upward, and your lungs begin to burn as Mike strokes just under your eyes with the pads of his thumbs. He has to lean down quite a bit, pauses just over your lips to let out a tiny huff of surprise, disbelief, awe maybe, then closes the rest of the miniscule distance.

He is very warm and very firm against you—feels good, all the comfort of someone familiar but still so new. Your lips fit together perfectly, and at last, you’re able to breathe again, mouths moving in an experimental back and forth, feeling each other out until he runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips. Gripping strong shoulders, you let the kiss deepen, opening your mouth for him, and Mike groans when he’s finally able to taste you.

Hands fall from your face, moving down, down, down, brushing your ribs, settling at your hips, but his fingers are long enough to curl and dig into the meat of your ass, making you gasp and press harder against him.

Rolling his pelvis into yours, you very quickly find yourself pinned between Mike’s body and the counter. Your grasp travels to the back of his neck, pulling him closer—you just need him closer—and he must feel it too because he hoists you up and sets you on the countertop, making room for himself between your legs.

You feel too hot and too desperate, but it’s good, a release that’s needed to happen for far too long. All manner of geothermal metaphors swim through your mind, spurting geysers and boiling mudpots, and it makes you giggle against him, biting down on his bottom lip and smiling around the flesh as he lets out another one of those rumbling, satisfied noises.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Mike mumbles, and for some reason, it’s strange to hear his voice so close, so quiet, as you’re pressed together, breathing each other’s air. It’s intimate and different, but it’s right.

“I’m just…” Another little laugh, “Thinking about the volcano.”

“When are you not thinking about the volcano?” You have a feeling he’s rolling his eyes, but he still grins and kisses you again.

“It’s all dirty things if that helps.”

Mike nods slowly, lips trailing from your mouth toward your neck. “Helps some.”

You tilt your head to give him better access and let out a little whine when you feel him bite down on a patch of skin just beneath the notch of your jaw, wrap your legs around his waist and do your best to rock into him because good god, you want him.

Fingers tangling under his loosening bun, you tug him back to your mouth, slotting your lips against his and sliding your tongue between his teeth. He presses you closer with a hand on the small of your back, squeezing the air from your lungs so all you can breathe is him.

“Mm, Mike, Mike,” you pant, barely breaking away only for him to chase after. You laugh, push his chest at the same time you gently tug at his hair, and he backs away just enough for you to get a good look at his half-lidded eyes and spit-slicked lips.

Honestly, staring at him now, you can’t believe you made so long without ever making a pass at him. He’s gorgeous, built like a roman statue only larger, with sun-kissed skin and a startlingly light gaze that threatens to leave you boneless.

“D’you wanna, maybe…” You swallow and blink up at him, too many questions suddenly invading your mind—is it too early for sex? Will he think you’re easy? What if it doesn’t actually work out? But, you bite the bullet anyway and finish, “Go to the bedroom?”

Mike is silent for a few beats, leaving you to second guess yourself and brace for disappointment and embarrassment, but then he clicks his tongue and answers, “Uh, yeah. Yes, let’s do that,” in a voice a little higher than usual, and scoops you from the counter.

Every little house on the ranch is laid out the same, so it does not take him long to find your room. He sets you down at the threshold, and from there, it’s a flurry of discarded clothing and stumbling to the bed.

“How have we never done this before?” He huffs, crawling over you, leaving wet kisses in his wake.

You’ve still got an arm covering your bare chest, but Mike doesn’t seem self-conscious in the slightest which comes as a surprise considering how reserved he typically is. Not that he has anything worth hiding—not the thin layer of hair that dances over his barrel chest, not the ridiculously cut abdominals or sharp ‘V’ of his hips, and definitely not the thick cock bobbing against his stomach as he moves. You would be intimidated if you didn’t know him as well as you do, but you’re sure that he’ll be gentle with you. Mike may be many things, but careless is not one of them.

He reaches your mouth, kisses you so deeply it makes you dizzy, and as he does, he very slowly pulls your arm from your chest, leaving you vulnerable—free for the taking.

His touch is soft enough to tickle as he brushes over one of your nipples, making you exhale against him and arch your back like a silent plea for more. He traces around the bud, makes it pebble before carefully rolling it between two fingers.

Warmth spills into your gut, makes you squirm on the bed, and a moan makes its way from your throat as Mike gently tugs at the sensitive flesh. He lowers his head again, lavishing the same kind of attention on your other nipple with his mouth. He nibbles and licks and sucks, and you wriggle and whimper beneath him, one hand trailing down his body until you’re able to close your fingers around the head of his cock.

Mike grunts, thrusts into your hand a couple times, enough to make precum drool from his tip, but before he can get too carried away, he says just above a whisper, “Let me get you ready,” then moves to lay between your spread legs.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he locks them into place, and you release a shaky breath, feeling his eyes taking you in for several seconds before licking up your slit once then pushing deeper.

“Oh, fu—”

Both your hands shoot downward, one gripping the messy bun at the back of his head as you shudder at the sensation of his beard against your pussy. You’re wet in seconds, core pulsing as Mike uses his tongue to slowly open you up, then pulls back to flick over your clit.

“Mike—Mike—”

He hums into you, shaking his head slowly back and forth, no doubt making a mess of his face and you. You don’t have anything to say, just feel your throat tightening like there are unspoken words that need to come out, but you can’t think straight, not when he’s doing what he’s doing, not when you feel the tips of his fingers reaching out to spread your lips.

He is thorough bordering on methodical, makes sure you’re at the point of full body shakes before he gives you a break, and then, when your breathing returns to a normal rate, he starts all over again. There is a tightness in your gut that builds and builds then dissipates every time he stops, and he must know because when you whine in frustration, Mike just grins and kisses the inside of your thighs.

The same pattern is repeated with his fingers, just one at first, massaging your walls perfectly, then a second that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He rubs over the swelling tissue inside of you, seems to enjoy every little gasp and noise you make, including the unsatisfied one you let out when he pulls his fingers from you.

You can feel how damp the bedspread is underneath you, can see the evidence of your arousal on Mike’s face, and it makes you flush but doesn’t stop you from tugging him down for another messy kiss.

“You ready?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel, and you nod furiously, bending your knees and planting your feet on the mattress so that you can lift your hips to his.

Mike chuckles, reaches down between the two of you to take hold of his length and taps your clit with his cockhead a couple times—simultaneously the most infuriating and most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Slowly, he lines himself up, just barely pushing forward, and when you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut, Mike tells you to, “Breathe, baby, open up for me.”

He already sounds wrecked, like he’s fighting the urge to just sheathe himself entirely, but he waits, giving you one inch at a time with periods of adjustment in between. You always sort of figured he was big, but this burning stretch is something you hadn’t imagined even in your lewdest of fantasies. You’re incredibly full, feel him in your gut and throat and everywhere, but it isn’t bad; it’s just a lot.

“Okay,” you stroke the forearm next to your head and nod. “Okay, you can start moving more.”

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

“About as sure as I can be with a monster cock inside m-me—” Your laugh turns to a moan as Mike begins to pull out, eyes trained on your face for any sign of real discomfort, but your mouth just drops open, your own eyebrows raising at the feeling of his length hitting every one of your most sensitive spots.

“Holy…”

He pushes back in quickly, still mindful of what your body can take, and when all you do is cry his name and scratch down his back, Mike starts up a steady rhythm that has you seeing god.

That tightness is back, hotter than before, threatening to burn you up entirely as your cunt flutters and spasms and leaks around Mike’s length.

The sound of a hoarse groan makes you open your eyes, and you follow Mike’s line of vision to where you’re connected, see his cock sliding in and out of you, dripping slick and ringed in white cream toward the base. The sight makes you clench around him, and Mike swears under his breath then leans forward to gather you in his arms. Your head lolls back as he lifts you, sitting on his knees for just a second before falling onto his back and letting you drop onto him.

You choke, and Mike pants, but his hands are tight at your hips, moving you up and down his length like a sleeve. His pupils are blown wide when you look down at him, hair nearly entirely out of its tie, bottom row of teeth exposed as his jaw slides almost primally.

He looks completely lost in you, possessed as he fucks up into your pussy rougher than before. You bounce in his lap, whimpering his name with every thrust, growing in volume when you feel a finger press against your clit.

“You gonna come for me?” Mike grits out, rubbing a circle over the swollen bundle as his eyes flick from your chest to your face.

You nod, ignoring the burning in your thighs in favor of the sensation between your hips. “Yeah, I—I—Fuck, Mike—”

“Come on, baby, come on—wanted to see this for years, come all over my cock…”

You snap, legs shaking as your climax crashes through you. Your cunt pulses around Mike, coating him in more of your juices and making him groan and fuck you through it. You whine at the stimulation, swollen walls so sensitive yet taking everything he has to give you.

Every thrust to your g-spot makes you gush a little more, come a little longer, until all you can do is fall onto his chest and let him use you as he needs to. You leave marks on his pecs, bites and scratches, and Mike grunts at every one of them until he sits up and flips you once again.

“Where do you want me?”

“Anywhere, I don’t care, I don’t care,” you babble.

Mike inhales sharply then lets out a long groan as he pulls out and shoots his load onto your stomach. It’s warm and thick, some pooling in your belly button as Mike makes a trail down to your clit where he smears the last few drops. You twitch at the contact, hole clenching around nothing now, but you can already feel soreness settling into your muscles.

Mike gives you two little pecks on the mouth, then one last, longer kiss before rolling to lay on the mattress beside you, chest rising and falling with deep breaths.

This silence doesn’t bother you. It gives you time to come back to your senses, to reflect, to remember everything that was said which leads you to ask, “You meant that—about wanting this for years?”

Mike turns his head and smiles so sincerely it almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Well, yeah. Been in love with you pretty much since I started at the park.”

He says it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it is, but it still makes your breath catch.

“Seriously?” You turn to lay on your side, and Mike mimics the action, propping his head up with one hand while he lets the other settle on your waist.

He lifts an eyebrow and questions, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No, I just… Thought it was one-sided on my end, I guess. Like, we were too good of friends.” Mike leans forward to gently headbutt you, and you snort to yourself, “Guess I was wrong.”

“We were both being stupid,” he mumbles. “But, we were also focused on other things, married to the job or whatever.”

Lifting your face makes him lift his, and you smile into another kiss, feeling happier and more balanced than you have in a very long time.

Without much more discussion, you and Mike get up to rinse off, sharing more soft touches under the spray of the shower before crawling into bed together. Falling asleep feels like coming home.

You don’t even mind the smug grin on Nanaba’s face when she sees you and Mike leave your house together in the morning, nor the teasing jabs Gelgar throws your way over lunch. You don’t know if anything is capable of knocking you out of your perfect, peaceful little world on this perfect, peaceful little homestead.

Except maybe a supereruption, of course.

E - D A Y

It happens right in the middle of the morning news. You and Mike are sipping on coffee, expecting the same report you’ve gotten every day— “Nothing yet, closely monitoring, blah blah”—but as the English news anchor tries to introduce the meteorologist, he stops, holds a hand to the speaker in his ear, then looks at the camera with wide yes.

“I’m—I’m getting news that the Yellowstone supervolcano has just begun to erupt, we’re cutting to the US address at Washington D.C. now—”

And just like that, Levi’s face is suddenly on screen, picking him up mid-sentence.

“... One vent open at the present time, but more will open shortly. Stay indoors, ration your food. This is what we’ve been preparing for.” He looks tired, and when you do the math, you understand why: seven AM in Norway is one AM in D.C., meaning Levi was probably woken up to make the announcement.

As always, you can make out Erwin’s figure behind him, hands clasped tight and shaking, and it isn’t until Mike puts a hand on your shoulder that you realize you are trembling right along with your old boss.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he reassures you. “We’re gonna be okay here.”

You nod and let him pull you closer to him as both of you look back to the screen and listen to what your old colleagues have to say.

The news stays on for the rest of the day. At around ten, the second vent opens up. Then another. Then another. Levi keeps track, expression never betraying the fear he must be feeling, even when he delivers the message that a full ring around the caldera has opened up.

“Obviously, we can’t get in close enough to look, but we estimate at least two thousand four hundred and fifty cubic kilometers of eruptible magma will pour from the volcano. That’s the size of the eruption from around two million years ago, but it could be worse with the current number of vents…”

The journalists on site, usually so ready to ask questions and challenge Levi, are silent today, and you imagine they’re staring with eyes the size of saucers, not quite believing what they’re hearing because it’s happening. It’s finally happening.

You eat a quiet, solemn lunch at Nanaba and Gelgar’s, no one knowing what to say. You feel nauseous, stunned, not unlike losing a loved one. You’re able to forget the absolute destruction taking place in the states for a few minutes at a time, but it always comes back to you, punching you in the gut with the same, brute force every time.

The park. The lab. The forests. The towns. Cities, states, homes, lives, all wiped off the map.

Erwin takes Levi’s place as public speaker close to five, probably to let the other man get some sleep, and reports that the portable seismogram, still linked to the remaining seismographs located around the park, show that there are near continuous earthquakes taking place, “Which could either help should enough earth shift to block the magma chamber, or make things worse by disrupting it further.”

“E is not very good at keeping people’s hopes up,” you mutter, and Mike chuckles.

“Yeah, I see why he makes Levi do all the talking now.”

You both receive texts from the rest of the team, Levi’s coming at an appropriate time but the others reaching you at odd hours of the night when you’re nestled in Mike’s arms.

Neither of you sleep as reality sets in the rest of the way. That was it. The beginning of the end of everything you know. Everything is about to change.

You sniff, try to be as quiet as possible as the tears you’ve been holding back all day finally begin to fall, but Mike knows, feels your body stiffen as you curl into yourself.

He hugs you close to him but doesn’t say anything, just rests his cheek against yours and holds your hand.

There’s nothing anyone can say to make this better, no amount of optimism or determination that will make this any easier. Your home is covered in miles of pyroclastic flow, and as it hasn’t stopped yet, you know this is just the start. Soon, anything left alive will be suffocated by the tephra, people, animals, and vegetation alike. Though you won’t die where you are, everyone at the ranch will be feeling the effects soon enough.

Your mother calls from France where her and your dad decided to “vacation” for the next several years. She’s worked up about not being able to get through to you for almost an entire day, and even as you reassure her that you’re mostly fine, she hears the way your voice cracks and offers to fly to Norway.

“Mom, the airports are shut down by now,” you sigh. “We already talked about this. We can’t see each other for a while, but we’ll FaceTime until we can’t anymore.” Until the cell towers are knocked out, you don’t say.

“I just know my baby girl is hurting right now. I know how much you loved—”

“I know,” you cut her off, scared that hearing it from her mouth will just make you lose it again. “I know, but I’m okay here with Mike and everyone else.”

“You’re sure?” She sniffles, sounding a lot like you. “Cause your father and I will find a way to get to you if you need us.”

“I’m sure, Mom,” you tell her with a sad smile she can’t see. “Get some rest, okay?”

You share many calls like that, many ill-timed text messages until the eruption finally comes to an end six days later. The damage it’s done is incalculable—the entirety of the United states now covered in a cloud of ash that blocks out the sun.

It doesn’t reach you for a few days, but every time you go outside, Mike sniffs the air and mumbles something like, “Smells like sulfur,” or “It’s getting closer”, but after another week, the entire globe is covered.

1 M O N T H A F T E R

Everything is an estimation. Everyone knows that a massive amount of magma erupted, but they don’t know how much. Everyone knows that a large number of people have died, but they don’t know how many. There are too many mysteries, and it’s nowhere near safe enough to send search crews out.

Despite all the warnings, people are still trying to go outside—to see the ash, to review the damage, but even with cloth or medical grade masks, they’re breathing in the dangerous particles floating in the air, tiny minerals that turn to a cement-like substance in their lungs, and because of that, the death count is only rising.

News reports cut in and out, as do phone calls. Some texts never get sent or received, so all you truly have is your little home and Mike.

And, you cry, and you mourn, and you miss your friends and family—fuck, you don’t even know how you’ll survive so long without them—but you also revel in the fact that you’re safe. Not everyone can say that. The fact that you had almost willingly stayed in the most dangerous zone of the explosion is laughable now. There’s no way you and Erwin would have survived that, something he agrees with you on when you share a short phone call with him just to check how he and Levi are doing.

They’ll be staying at the Homeland Security compound for the forseeable future, but he assures you they’re well-prepared to brave the years-long gray storm.

Without any livestock to take care of, or mouths to feed other than yours and Mike’s, you find yourself with an abundance of free time. You still have power thanks to the solar panels and the couple of windmills set up around the ranch, but you don’t know how long that will last.

You both read a lot, do puzzles together, fall into bed both out of desire and just because there’s not much better to do.

And, that part of your apocalyptic life is kind of great. Mike is great. He takes care of you both in and out of the bedroom, is gentle with you until you tell him not to be, and then he’s more than happy to succumb to your needs. He’d invested in a frankly absurd amount of condoms before the eruption so he wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out every time, but every once in a while you want him like you had him the first time—desperate and passionate and completely raw.

That’s the feeling you’re experiencing tonight, staring at Mike from your place on the couch rather than at the book in your hands.

You see him smile before he actually looks at you, but when he does, he has a glint in his eyes you’ve gotten very familiar with over the last month.

“Need something, baby?”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning too bashfully and glance back down at the open pages on your lap. “Nuh uh.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Really?” Mike puts down the wildlife magazine he’s perusing and leans closer to you. “’Cause it looks like you might want something.”

You cross your legs, flip a page you haven’t even read, and shake your head.

It’s a dumb game you’ve both started to play, who can hold out the longest. Of course, the longest record is one you both hold—four years and some odd months—but other than that, you usually make it two or three days at most.

But it’s hard with him walking around looking like he does, and for someone so quiet, Mike is mischievous and handsy, knowing just how to rile you up only to walk away and leave you to whatever you were doing before. He whispers in your ear, he grabs your ass, sometimes he’ll just stand right behind you in the kitchen and inhale, trace his nose up your neck so that you shiver and break out in goosebumps, then mumble a shameless, “You smell nice.”

He’s troublingly good at driving you crazy, and you realize this is why it took you so long to actually get together. You can’t imagine being this wound up and wanton in the lab with everyone there to see.

“You know,” Mike speaks again. You look at him from the corner of your eyes as he leans back against the cushions and nonchalantly kicks an ankle over his thigh. “A lot of people are dying. Like, thousands. Millions.”

Frowning, you nod. “Uh, yeah. Worldwide disaster taking place.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame,” he adds. His lips twitch upward for a second before he purses them, waiting for another couple seconds then stating, “Should probably start thinking about… Efforts to repopulate.”

Eyes widening, you tilt your head to the side in disbelief, a short, incredulous laugh bubbling from your throat.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, Mike Zacharias!”

Reaching behind you, you grab a throw pillow and launch it at him. Mike shields himself easily, choking and chuckling as he tries to defend himself, “I’m just—saying! It’s something to keep in mind!”

“Trying to guilt me into sex—” You smack his forearms with the pillow again, “As if I’m not already easy for you—" smack, smack, “—by bringing up all the people dying out there. What is the matter with you?”

He gets a hold of the pillow and rips it from your hands then hugs it to his chest and stares at you with that uncharacteristically devious look. “Is it working?”

You scoff at him, gently kick at his thigh in one last act of defiance before responding, “I mean, kinda.”

And, that’s all he needs to hear before he’s throwing himself at you, pinning you to the couch even as you giggle and squirm, ridding you of the comfortable clothes you have on so that he can kiss and lick every part of you he can reach. He acts like he’s hungry for you, and you have to use all your strength to shove him off of you just so that you can work his pants off and return the favor.

Mike is all grunts and curses as you work him over with your tongue, a hand on the back of your head heavy but not pressuring. He trembles as you take him deeper, his tip hitting the back of your throat and sliding just a little further.

It always hurts your jaw, leaves it sore for a full twenty-four hours at least, but the way his jaw drops and his hands ball into fists make it worth it.

You use one hand to stroke what your mouth can’t reach, the other settling between your own thighs to get you to where you need to be, and only when Mike is panting and you’re dripping slick into your curled palm do you pull off of him.

He helps you into his lap, lets you take your time sliding down his length, because even after as much practice as you’ve had, it hasn’t exactly gotten easier. He’s still massive, and you still have to will yourself to relax around him, but once your muscles have loosened enough, you begin to rock your hips.

Mike lets you use him like that for a few minutes, knows he’s at the perfect angle to rub over your g-spot, so he just watches and leans forward to place teasing kisses around your open mouth.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice drips like honey as he grips onto you to aid in your movement.

Nodding, you dig your nails into his shoulders, then shift to start moving up and down his length. Mike takes it as his cue to take over completely, strong enough to lift and drop you as he pleases, and you both fall into a frenzy of motion, desperate to get off, to get each other off, to share that euphoria.

“Do you actually want to?” You ask in a daze.

Mike cracks his eyes open to ask, “What?” and slows down enough to give you enough breathing room to speak. “Do I wanna what?”

Making lazy air quotes with your fingers, you mimic his deep voice, “Repopulate,” then elaborate, “Have kids. Do you want that?”

Everything stops. Your hips still, as do Mike’s, and he stares at you, the lusty haze of his gaze clearing as he processes what you’re asking.

Feeling completely exposed, you try to rationalize, “I know, I know, we’ve only been doing this for, like, a month, and it’s kind of a terrible time to actually bring new life into the world, but if I’m gonna do it with anyone—”

Mike fists both hands in the hair at the back of your head, pulls you to him to smash your lips together. When he starts bouncing you again, your muffled moan is still loud in the small living room, and Mike’s voice comes out somewhere between desperate and destroyed when he tells you, “Yeah, I want kids. Want you to have my kids.”

“Okay,” you breathe, matching his rhythm, then again, “Okay.”

A switch seems to flip in Mike’s head. You watch and experience him devolve into someone—something—primal. He fucks you like he never has before, long hair hanging in his face, lip caught between his teeth as he groans around it, pistoning into you quick and rough.

“You want it?” He growls, pausing to suck a mark at the swell of your breast. “You want me to come in this pussy?”

Your heart stutters, jaw dropping slightly because Mike isn’t a vulgar man, never has been, but now, the way he’s looking up at you with wild eyes, you know all he needs is the right push, and he’ll lose it completely.

“Yeah, fuck, want you to fill me up, please,” you whine.

Your world tilts as he tosses you long ways on the couch, sliding back into you with ease and demanding, “Touch yourself.”

You grin slyly, “What, don’t have the focus?”

“Not really,” he admits, flicking sweaty hair from his eyes.

Two of your fingers find your clit, massaging it the way you always do when you’re desperate for an orgasm. It makes you clamp tighter around Mike, and you tell him again—beg for him— “Please, baby, want you so bad.”

He comes quicker than usual, shooting line after line deep inside of you until it starts dripping out around his cock.

He can’t stay inside you for long, unable to take the way you keep clenching and twitching from your own ministrations, so Mike pulls out and shimmies down your body so that his face is just above your cunt. At first, he just stares (like always), admiring your swollen folds and how messy you are, but soon he pushes a finger into you, attaching his mouth to your clit shortly after.

It doesn’t take you long. The thought of him fingerfucking his cum further into you paired with the actual sensation of it sends you over the edge within a few minutes, and the two of you are left sweaty and panting, too drunk off each other to really think about the gravity of what you’ve just done but enjoying it all the same.

The feeling eventually returns to your legs, some of the fog in your brain dissipating as you run your hand through Mike’s hair, and when you find that you can, you voice, “Can we even handle a kid? Or like… Can a kid handle the world as it is?”

“Kids are weirdly resilient,” Mike speaks, face pressed against your stomach so that you can feel the vibrations. “And, maybe there’ll eventually be a race of super babies or something—have enhanced lungs to deal with ash. Darkvision and shit.”

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

He retaliates by blowing a raspberry just above your belly-button, grins lopsidedly when you squeal.

“But really, our kids’ll be fine. Volcanologist for a mom and an Eagle Scout for a dad? Doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Oh my god, you were actually in Boy Scouts? Does Levi know?”

Mike makes a little ‘pft’ sound and shoots you an unimpressed look. “Of course not. Like, I’d ever let that tiny, tiny man be right about anything.”

Your laugh is so deep and genuine, it makes your whole body shake. Mike raises his head to keep it from bouncing so much, but you can feel him staring for the duration of your giggle fit. Even through squinted, teary eyes, you can see his gaze is full of adoration, and you figure having two parents who love each other as much as the two of you do will at least make the hard life ahead of you a little easier for a child.

4 Y E A R S A F T E R

Heavy snow falls outside, adding to the thick layers on the ground and clouding the window you’re staring out of. The carrier is nicely heated, ensuring you and its other two occupants stay toasty as you keep eye out for incoming headlights.

“Think that’s them,” Mike says, and you swivel to look out his driver’s side window to see two dull beams of light growing brighter and brighter.

“Don’t know who else it would be,” you joke. “No one else is dumb enough to come back to this place.”

The only sign of your husband raising his eyebrows is the way his hat shifts slightly. “You’re right about that.”

Cinching fur-lined hoods tighter, you both slide out of the tram, boots crunching on ice and snow when you land on the ground. Mike circles to your side, opens the back door, then unbuckles and collects what looks to be a bundle of jackets in his arms. Two light eyes peer out between a beanie and a face mask, gloved hands reaching out and grabbing for you.

“You want Mama?” Mike coos before passing your son to you.

You settle him on your hip, rub his shielded nose with yours, hoping your body heat will help keep him warm out here.

It’s been winter for… Years, now, the ash from the eruption having behaved exactly as you thought it would, blocking out the sun, and sending the planet hurtling into another ice age. It was something not everyone was prepared for—the intense cold, the food and water shortage, the isolation, but you were lucky. You had everything you needed.

The other snow vehicle stops a ways off, lights left on as two figures jump out, recognizable even when completely covered up. One is nearly as tall as Mike, the other considerably smaller even up close.

Pulling his mask down, Erwin shows a brilliant smile as he stops in front of you and Mike, and Levi immediately protests— “Oi, cover your mouth, old man! You need it for more than just talking shit.”

Mike laughs, but still reprimands the other man with a pointed, “Levi,” and a nod toward the little boy you’re holding.

“Fuck—I mean…” Levi takes in a deep breath then apologizes over the whistling wind and falling snow, “Sorry, Huck.”

Bouncing him on your hip, you peer at your son and prompt, “Huckleberry, you remember Levi and Erwin from the computer?”

Though your team has seen him many times on Zoom and FaceTime, this is first time Huck is meeting any of them in the flesh.

Your son looks between them for a while, quiet as he sizes up both of the men, then he reaches out for Levi the same way he had for you just moments before. Levi makes a dissatisfied noise but still takes him from you, and once Huck is passed off, you shuffle to Erwin and wrap your arms around him, breathing into his chest and warming your face.

Your boss squeezes you tightly, mutters a low, “I know, I missed you too.”

It isn’t enough to drown out Levi’s sing-song baby voice, and both you and Erwin glance over to find him with his forehead pressed to Huck’s as he teases, “Can’t believe your parents named you after a volcanic eruption. That was pretty dumb, right?”

Mike glides over, places one hand on Huck’s head and the other on Levi’s, then sighs. “Please don’t criticize my wife’s terrible taste in nam—”

“Hey! You agreed to it,” you shout, taking the little boy back from Levi and glaring at both the smiling men. “Better shut up before you give him a complex. He can understand things, you know. He’s three.”

“Huckleberry Pine Zacharias,” Levi scoffs. “I cannot stand you guys.”

“I think it’s a great name,” Erwin interjects, lightly tapping Huck’s nose under his mask.

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

“Obviously, if I married a little gremlin like you,” Erwin drawls easily, leaning into the punch that Levi throws into his arm.

“Anyway, we’re here for a reason, right? Other than freezing our asses off?”

“Yeah,” Mike nods, kicking at the snow on the ground like it’ll make a difference.

All of you know that buried beneath all the white is dried pyroclast, but under that…

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

“How do we even go about rebuilding?” Mike is the first to ask.

Erwin stares at his own feet, face scrunched up in thought for a while before looking back up and stating, “From the bottom. Everything starts with a good foundation.”

Levi just scoffs, but you and Mike lock eyes and share a hidden grin.

You take Huck back from Levi, leaning in for a side hug as you do, then suggest to everyone, “Well, then, now that we’ve seen a little of what we’re working with, we should head back to the shelter and start making a plan.”

“Yeah,” Levi agrees. “Gotta start getting ready for the next eruption due in seven hundred thousand years, right?”

“Right.”

After splitting back up into the two separate carriers, Mike follows closely behind the other in order to make it to their newly built bunker without getting lost. It’s perpetually dark from the never ending snow and cloud coverage, hazardous even with the vehicle’s tracks, but you can’t find it in yourself to be scared. Not now, not when life finally feels to be returning to something close to normal.

#aot x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #mike zacharias x reader #snk fanfic #the smut pile collab

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 4 years ago

Text

Training Day

AMHL – Masterlist

WARNINGS: PTSD, domestic violence & abuse, panic attack, anxiety

“I feel like you’re torturing me now,” Y/N groaned as she put the bar back down on the bench press.

Dick chuckled. “You gotta gain some strength before I teach you, otherwise you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“You callin’ me fat, Grayson?”

His eyes grew three sizes and his jaw dropped in shock. “No, no, no, no, no. I would never!”

Then he jumped into a tangent about how beautiful he was and he loved her for how she looked and never wanted her to change, unless that’s what she wanted. And it went on and on and on.

Y/N finally took pity on him and started laughing.

“Dick, I’m just fucking with you.”

He pointed an accusatory finger at her. “That was cruel.”

But she only laughed more.

“10 pushups for that,” he demanded.

Her jaw dropped. “Noooo!”

“Yeah. Come on.”

She did as he instructed, knowing she did kind of deserve it.

Afterward, he led her to the training mats. They had done weight training for about 30 minutes or so, and Dick insisted that was going to be a big part of all this. He was right: some of the self-defense moves would only hurt her if she didn’t prep her body.

But when Dick turned to find Y/N standing at the ready on the other side, his tough-love coaching style disappeared.

She looked so small and fragile, clearly nervous for the actual fight training.

Sometimes Dick forgot that Y/N wasn’t like his family or his teammates. She didn’t graduate from field work to sitting behind a computer. Hacking and computer science was her first and only exposure to this life.

“What?” She asked.

“Nothing. You just…look nervous.”

“I am,” she admitted.

With that, Dick walked across the mat and planted a kiss on her lips.

He stepped back with a smile, “Ready?”

She beamed at him and nodded.

For the next half hour or so, Dick taught Y/N all the basics of self defense: how to get out of holds, where to hit an attacker for the most impact, and how to prevent herself from getting injured in the process.

“Things are going to be quicker in real life. You’re going to have to get over the feeling of panic and calm yourself down enough to properly react,” Dick explained.

Y/N nodded with her back to him as she returned to her spot on the other side of the training mats.

But she didn’t reach it before Dick surprised her with a chokehold from behind her.

Before now, Dick had been walking her through moves step by step. But he clearly was trying to prove the point that she would most likely not be expecting these attacks. And he wanted her to get used to reacting to the surprise of it all.

Except…Dick didn’t think this training tactic completely through.

Dick hadn’t taken into account that his student and girlfriend was also a victim of domestic violence.

Since she first escaped from underneath her parents’ roof, Y/N’s had improved a lot when it came to treating and handling her PTSD.

It used to be so much worse.

Loud noises would throw her into panic attacks. People just lightly touching her without her expecting it made her jump feet away. Anytime she got a whiff of alcohol that smelled even a little bit similar to her father’s preferred brand could set her off.

Over the years, it got better.

Therapy helped. Dick helped – his whole family had helped.

But Y/N knew it would always be there, waiting inside her.

And in this moment, it decided to reveal itself once again.

Y/N’s vision blurred. All she could hear was her heartbeat making its way to her ears.

It wasn’t until her entire body was trembling that Dick realized something was wrong.

He let go.

But before he even completely let go, Y/N dodged away so quickly that she almost tripped over her own feet.

She whipped around, eyes so wide. Like a deer facing a hunter, fully aware it was about to be slaughtered.

And Dick realized how much he just fucked up.

Without even realizing what she was doing, Y/N slowly lowered herself to the ground, not trusting that her knees to not give out at any moment.

“Y/N,” Dick whispered desperately.

It was hearing how sorry he was already that made Y/N’s eyes fill with tears.

As soon as she was shakily lowered to the ground, she hugged her knees to her chest and hid her face in them.

“Can we stop?” She begged, as if she had no choice and Dick had complete control.

Her voice and sob was muffled by her knees.

“Yes, we’re stopping,” Dick immediately answered with a clear voice. "You’re safe. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

But Y/N only nodded, not helping to convince Dick that his words comforted her in the slightest.

Her entire body was trembling as she continued to squeeze her knees as tightly as she could.

Dick kneeled but didn’t move any closer to her.

“Can I…Please…Can I touch you?” He whispered.

But she shook her head.

Not because she didn’t want him to, but because she felt like she had no control over her body right now. And she had no idea how it was going to react to being touched again.

And she was already mortified and confused and terrified.

“OK,” Dick sighed as he lowered himself to the mat as well. “I’m just going to sit here. OK? I’m not going to get anywhere near you.”

Y/N didn’t respond. But her body was still clearly trembling.

“Can you just breath for me?” Dick asked softly. "Deep breaths in, slow breaths out.”

She still doesn’t respond. But he can hear her trying to do as he asked.

Dick didn’t think he should say any more, worried that his talking was just making the whole situation worse. But then he remembered a tactic Bruce had taught him to console victims who were going into shock or scared of them.

“Can you count backwards from 100 with me?” He then asked.

“What?” She sputtered out, confusedly.

But it was good that she was clearly able to even process that he was talking to her.

“Countdown from 100,” he repeated gently. “100, 99, 98,” he started.

She eventually joined in.

When they reached 1, Y/N went quiet again.

It seemed to have worked.

After a few minutes, Y/N finally stood up.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” she whispered quickly, but it was so quiet that Dick almost didn’t catch it.

The next second, she rushed out of the cave.

Now that her PTSD had calmed down, she was clearly embarrassed.

“Y/N! Wait!” Dick called after her in a panic and jogged after her.

When they got to the main part of the manor and Y/N reached the stairs to go to the second floor, she had flown past a very confused and concerned Bruce Wayne.

Dick paused when Y/N sprinted up the stairs with her eyes blood shot and cheeks tear stained.

“What did you do, Dick?” Bruce grunted, not even considering that it could also possibly be Y/N’s fault.

Dick sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “I was showing her some self-defense…and I…I trigged her PTSD and she had a panic attack.”

“You need to be more careful,” Bruce reprimanded.

“I know, I know. It was stupid.” Dick already knew he messed up.

Bruce remained disappointed by Dick’s mistake.

“I’m going to go check on her,” Dick mumbled and passed Bruce with his head hung.

Dick returned to his childhood room, the one they always stayed in while visiting.

The shower was already running.

He figured he should give her some time to herself and not rush into the bathroom.

Y/N was most likely crying and wanted to hide it from him. Even though she already realized Dick would know that’s exactly what she was doing.

10 minutes later, Y/N came out of the bathroom with a cloud of steam and a white towel wrapped tightly around her.

Dick’s heart broke even more when he saw her red, bloodshot eyes.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, desperate for her forgiveness.

He should’ve realized that certain things in typical self-defense training could trigger her.

Bruce had taught him to always expect the unexpected. And Y/N’s PTSD should’ve be expected while he put her under such a tense and rigorous circumstance.

Y/N hung her head in shame. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Dick.”

Her voice was so small, so vulnerable. Dick had to hold his breath to hear it.

“Y/N, you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he insisted and he slowly stood up from the edge of the bed.

Dick wanted to go to her, but he was so scared of making things worse.

“Will you please come here?” He finally asked in a whisper.

She practically tiptoed to her boyfriend, while she held her towel tightly to her body as if it were some kind of armor.

As soon as Y/N was a few inches away, Dick gently tugged her onto his lap.

He was a very tactile man, and not being able to give her physical comfort was slowly killing him. And he felt utterly useless to help her.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed or sorry. I knew better than to surprise you like that. I was an idiot. What happened was my fault, OK?”

She nodded slowly.

Eventually his words would get through to her.

“Can you still train me?”

Y/N finally shocked Dick with her question.

“Of course, Y/N. Let’s just take it slower next time. I promise to be more careful.”

She nodded quickly, fully believing him and trusting him.

Now he put his arms around her, holding her to him tightly.

Dick had always been protective over her. But when she showed signs of being triggered, he went full mama bear on her. But that was also Dick as a person. He was so caring of everyone in his life. He was a big brother, a leader, a stand-in father sometimes even.

But it often led to Y/N’s guilt when Dick felt the need to treat her like a piece of glass. But sometimes…she was. And that was OK.

“Wanna get to sleep?” He muttered into her hair.

She nodded again.

Dick carefully moved her from his lap and placed her on the bed before he stood.

Y/N watched with love in her eyes as Dick moved around the room and grabbed some of his clothes to give to her to sleep in.

What had she done to deserve him?

“I’ll give you a minute,” Dick told her as he handed the clothes to her.

Not that he hadn’t seen her naked hundreds of times before. He was just treading carefully now.

“Want some tea?” He asked as he walked to the door.

“Sure,” she agreed quietly.

When Dick returned with two cups of tea, Y/N was already underneath the covers of their bed.

Dick watched Y/N as she took her first sip.

“You want to talk about it?” He was ever so careful in his tone, making sure it was obvious that Y/N didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to.

“There’s not much to tell,” she admitted with a shrug.

“That’s alright though.”

Y/N sighed. “As fucked up as it sounds, I sometimes forget about all the things he used to do to me.”

She chuckled darkly, “Guess that’s repression for ya.”

Dick winced slightly.

“He used to grab me by the throat. Constantly. Because he hated whenever I tried to talk back or fight him with words. So he made sure I couldn’t talk at all. It was all about control.”

Despite being trigged and having a panic attack earlier, Y/N talked about her tragic past without any emotion, and it sounded so casually. She was numb to the memories, but the scars manifested themselves in different ways now – and that was proven today.

Y/N looked up when Dick hadn’t said anything.

She was taken aback by how he looked as if he was going to be sick.

“I’m fine, Dick. Really.” She insisted as she cupped his cheek.

It hurt Dick to hear these things more than it hurt Y/N now.

“You were dealing with your past all by yourself long before you met me,” Dick answered. “But I just need you to know I’m never going to let anything like that ever happen to you again.”

He took in a shaky breath. “Even if – fuck – even if something happened between us, and we weren’t together…I’d still keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Y/N smiled.

Oh, Dick. His gentleness never stopped amazing her.

“I know that, Dick. I’ve always known that.”

Before he could answer, she added, “Now enough talking. Can you just cuddle me now?”

Dick laughed at her demanding and teasing tone.

“Get over here,” he pulled her into his chest.

Soon his grasp was so soothing to Y/N’s body that she reached the ultimate level of relaxation, especially after being drained from her earlier panic.

Y/N felt Dick kiss the top of her head before she fell asleep in his arms.

–––––––––––––––––––

ALL BONUS CONTENT CAN BE FOUND: HERE

#AMHL bonus content #all ment have limits #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson reader insert #dick grayson x you #nightwing x reader #nightwing reader insert #batfam #batboys #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x platonic!reader #batman universe #dc

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imaginesofmtl · 4 years ago

Note

The boys reactions to accidentally falling asleep with/on them?

Oh, this is such a sweet one! Thank you! (Also I feel like it’s so obvious which characters are my favorites to write for, I’m sorry lol)

Nathan feels your head thump down on his shoulder and looks at you in confusion. You fell asleep? So early? The two of you had been watching TV and sharing some junk food. He shrugs and tries to wake you up, but you’re out. Instead of turning off the TV, though, he clicks the volume lower and puts an arm over you. Once or twice you wake up for just a second when he laughs too loud at something, but otherwise it’s a peaceful rest and you feel secure with his heavy arm around you.

You and Pickles are smoking in his bedroom and having fun, sprawled out on his mattress and giggling together. You’re resting back on his stomach, using him as a pillow, when suddenly you just feel so tired. Pickles is in the middle of rambling on and on about some old band he used to party with, and when you don’t crack up at the end of the anecdote, he peeks down at you and realizes you fell asleep! A nap sounds pretty damn good, actually, so he puts out his joint and decides to doze with you.

Skwisgaar is playing his guitar in the back of the limo as he and the guys and a few friends of the band drive home from a long night out. It’s quiet and dark back there. The excitement is over for the day, and most everyone in the car are nodding off in one way or another. As Skwisgaar continues to softly play he notices your eyes closing and your posture relaxing. Just as you’re about to fall asleep at some weird angle, he pauses his playing to draw your head down onto his shoulder, and that’s where you stay until the limo pulls up at Mordhaus.

Toki wore you out big time today. An amusement park, dinner, dancing and drinking afterwards. Now the two of you are back at the hotel playing video games on the suite’s TV. Toki’s showing no signs of slowing down or getting tired, but you want to sleep so bad. You tell him you’ll sit the next round out and just watch him play, but you make the mistake of putting your head down on his lap. Within minutes you’re fading in an out, missing chunks of the game, but his thigh is just too comfy. Just before you really go under you feel a hand petting your hair like a cat.

Murderface has no idea what to do when you fall asleep on his shoulder. You’d been helping the guys with the new album, offering a fresh pair of ears on a few problem spots, but before too long Pickles and Nathan got into a long conversation and brought the rehearsal to a standstill. Skwisgaar and Toki went off and practiced their parts together, which left you and Murderface on the sofa, and now he’s blushing and silently panicking because your cheek is smooshed against his arm. He tries to raise his arm up, but that only invites you to snuggle in closer and put your head on his chest. He keeps trying to whisper “Guysch? Hey guysch?” as loud as he can in the hopes of getting some help, but to no avail. He’s stuck with you.

You and Charles don’t often pull all-nighters, but sometimes the work demands it, and you don’t mind helping him. But it’s tiring, monotonous work, with papers and folders spread over the table by the couches. Around 1 AM both of you start yawning despite the pot of strong coffee Charles has a klokateer bring up to the office. Finally he concedes...”Perhaps we should, ah, sleep in shifts. By all means, you go first.” You feel a bit guilty about taking a nap and leaving him to work, but you curl up beside him on the couch with a throw pillow. Before too long, though, you stretch out in your sleep and unknowingly drape your legs across his lap. An hour later when you wake up, there’s Charles, going through receipts and spreadsheets, using your shins as a second table.

The latest Klokikon was a bust, and Magnus is beside himself in anger as you help him pack up his stall. All the way back to his apartment he’s complaining, ranting about the band, the fans, anything and everything. And it doesn’t stop. Long into the night he’s still trying to hold your attention with conspiracy theories and rumors and whatever else his mind grasps at in its desperate rage. He sits at the edge of the couch, hunching over his laptop, furiously typing on some forum or another. You don’t know what to do to calm him down besides just listening to him and being there and waiting for him to run out of steam. You run out first, though, resting against his back where you’ve been looking over his shoulder at the computer. In the morning, you wake up on the couch covered in blankets. And there’s Magnus sitting on the coffee table, exhausted, the wind finally blown out of his sails, with a box of apology donuts.

#metalocalypse #metalocalypse imagines #nathan #pickles #skwigaar #toki #murderface #charles #magnus #Anonymous

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luvdsc · 5 years ago

Text

ellipsism.

gold is a bluer color than blue.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: angst / soulmate + high school au word count :: 1,734 words warnings :: gang, blood, violence, death song :: you were good to me (jeremy zucker & chelsea cutler)

You order a chocolate milkshake.

You never had one before, but they were his favorite.

The boy with blue hair drank them so often that they were all you could taste when your lips pressed against his. He would place one hand on your cheek with the other gently grasping you by the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until he kissed you dizzy. The slightest hints of chocolate stained his breath as he whispered sweet nothings that meant everything to you. He mumbled i love you’s between each breath, sang you lullabies before every exchange of good night’s, and called you endearments sweeter than the sugary concoction he found so much delight in.

The drink is placed in front of you. Fingers curling around the base of the glass, you take a small sip, reveling in the nostalgic taste. You smile.

Chocolate milkshakes might be your favorite, too.

The boy with blue hair was a heartbreakingly beautiful enigma wrapped in a well worn leather jacket and a false bravado that fell apart easily beneath your fingertips once you had found yourself occupying every crevice of his heart. He was blue skies turning into cotton candy pink, whispered wishes slipped between birthday candles, vibrantly yellow dandelions peeking out between cracked pavement, the last wisps of dusk settling into twilight, and the nostalgic song that nestled itself within your years of adolescence and yet, you couldn’t remember the title of for the life of you. He was quiet laughter hidden between the dusty bookshelves of a library, kept promises that were sealed with looped pinkies, stolen kisses as the sunset spilled across the sky, and chilled chocolate milkshakes on a warm day.

Falling in love with the boy with blue hair and a heart wrenching smile was never on your list of things to do in high school, and you didn’t think falling in love with you was on his list either, but love had a funny way of working itself out. A chance encounter on your walk home, an innocent offer of tissues towards your usually absent classmate with a bloody nose, and one glance at this vibrant boy who seemed to hold entire galaxies in his eyes were all it took for you to go head over heels for Na Jaemin.

But you’d also have to thank your soulmate—whoever they were—because if Jaemin hadn’t noticed the odd words stating “Save me a milkshake?” tattooed across your wrist in ebony ink, he wouldn’t have offered to buy you a milkshake in return for the tissues. While sitting in the diner on the corner of Camellia Boulevard and Arcadia Street for the very first time, you found out he was much luckier than you as he showed off a neatly written “I promise” on his wrist.

In a world where soulmate signs came in all different shapes and forms, you were fortunate that yours was straightforward and easy-to-hide. It was supposed to be a simple transition of black into gold as your indicator. It was certainly better than Donghyuck’s sign whose hair color changed every few days courtesy of his soulmate. When you told the boy with blue hair about the day your friend was sporting rainbow streaks, the genuine grin gracing his face as he laughed loudly made him look like an angel, and well, angels never hurt anyone, right?

The boy with blue hair never told you why he was sporting a bruised lip and carmine stains at your very first shared interaction, but you were no stranger to all the swirling rumors at school about the wrong crowd he ran with and the affiliations he had with the darker side of the city. However, you never pried, accepting that he would tell you when the time came and he was ready.

And today, he was finally ready. He was ready to leave that part of his past behind, ready to move on, ready to take charge of his life with you by his side. He was going to tell you today.

Friday afternoons were always reserved for you, but unfortunately, he had to meet with someone from his past one final time. He secretly texted you in class, asking you to meet up a little later than usual at your and his favorite diner where the two of you like to argue over the superior milkshake flavor (you adamantly insist that vanilla is better). When he received your affirmative reply a few minutes later along with a slew of pretty heart emojis, he beamed brightly before sending back a generous amount of cute emojis in response.

He was excited to show you the A he got on his English paper: the one that you helped him outline and that he stayed up all night perfecting. This was the first time he had put so much time and effort into an assignment, and his teacher was more than thrilled when she received the carefully stapled papers with his name proudly stamped across the cover page. His grades were slowly, but steadily improving, and it was all because of you. He even discovered that he really liked his computer science class and began to research potential classes at nearby community colleges.

Clutching his prized paper in hand, Jaemin stood at the intended meeting spot, enjoying the light drizzle of the rain overhead. The sun barely peeked out from behind the darkening clouds, causing the water droplets to glimmer and gleam as they fell. The gentle pattering of tiny raindrops against his face felt refreshing, almost like a new beginning, a quiet reminder of the rainbow that came afterwards.

Jaemin heard the awful squelching noise before he felt it.

It was an uncomfortable pressure at first until it increased in pain and spread across his abdomen, a cold feeling worming its way up and wrapping around his figure. He had found himself dropping onto the damp concrete, curling in on himself as the papers fluttered loosely from his hand, stained in dark shades of cerise that made its way across the ground.

The blurry figure standing above him stood still for a minute before darting off. No loose ends, he could hear his former boss’s voice echoing in his head. It was what he was told the first time he stepped foot on their territory. How naive of him to believe that they would let him go so easily.

Dragging himself towards the wall behind several empty dumpsters, he propped himself up, pressing down on the wound as best he could but the rivulets of carmine spilled much too quickly and easily, slipping between his fingers. It’s futile, and he knew it, the increasingly harsher waves of pain washing over him with every ticking second. He absentmindedly stared at the A and smiley face adorning his paper in red ink, now barely distinguishable from the other glaring hues of vermilion. The rain poured down, turning the paper translucent as it began to tear around the edges.

Mind going numb from everything but the thought of you—you who was still waiting patiently for someone who would never come—he painstakingly pulled out his phone from his jacket, the device almost falling from his grasp. He clumsily fumbled with it for a few moments before he managed to hit the right buttons. You answered on the first ring, and he smiled, small tendrils of warmth blooming from his heart at the sound of your voice. You were the rose among his garden of thorns, the green light on the other side of the shore, and the beacon of light in the midst of a storm.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, taking a deep breath. He hoped that you didn’t notice the way his voice wavered nor the way his breath quickened with every passing second. He hoped that you knew he tried so hard to not fall in love with you, so that you wouldn’t get hurt because of him. He hoped that you could forgive him for falling in love with you anyways. He hoped that you could forgive him for being selfish for the one last time.

“Hey, where are you? Are you alright?” Your worried tone was evident, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt tired, his eyelids drooping slowly, yet he still forced himself to stay awake. He’s sorry for lying to you. “Yeah, I’m fine, just running a little late. Are you already there?”

“Yeah, I just ordered a vanilla milkshake for myself. You know, the best flavor,” you teased him, and he relaxed against the bricks, phone held loosely in his hand.

“Oh, really? I think you’re wrong.”

You scoffed, and he could easily picture the way the corners of your lips tug up into a smile that you desperately try to hide. “ You know what? I’m gonna get you a vanilla one right now instead of chocolate. This is what happens when you’re late.”

“You sure you’re not just buying a second one for yourself?” he laughed softly, and you gasped indignantly. “What do you take me for? A milkshake thief? Maybe I should just drink it myself.”

“No!” He weakly protested, breath growing shallower and weaker. He shakily held up his phone, desperately pressing it against his ear. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if you were right here, talking to him. He could pretend that he was sitting next to you on vinyl covered seats as you share a plate of fries over vanilla and chocolate milkshakes and his fingers shyly brush against yours as he picks up a fry. He could vividly see how your eyes sparkle as you tell him about your day, and he’ll stare at you, enamored and starry eyed, as some retro love song plays from the jukebox in the corner.

“Can you promise me something?” he said quietly. The pauses between each heart palpitation grew wider and further apart, and he could faintly hear you answer yes over his slowing heartbeats. He inhaled sharply, his breath stuttering, as he forced the words through his teeth, clenching tightly onto the phone like a lifeline.

“Save me a milkshake?”

On the other side of town, in a tiny booth tucked in a corner of a 1950s themed restaurant, four little words started to shimmer in gold.

“I promise.”

The boy with blue hair smiled.

As the sky wept, a splash of gold twinkled innocently against the darkening asphalt.

#jaemin scenarios #jaemin angst #jaemin imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jaemin x reader #nct angst #nct dream fanfic #nct fanfic #jaemin fanfic #nct scenario #nct dream fic #na jaemin #jaemin #nct #nct dream

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pinkanonwrites · 4 years ago

Text

love me, please love me

Akaashi x Reader

Happy belated Valentine's day! I wanted to write a bittersweet piece for the occasion, but I caved right at the end and made it 100% sweet instead. Basically Akaashi is a delight and I wanted to see him pine, and pine hard. I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

(also the song title is from a song of the same name by Michel Polnareff, which I highly recommend listening to in order to get that yearning vibe)

Akaashi had already decided by himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Sure, there would always be details and characters and overarching, more interesting plot to work out, but the overall premise was always the same. Two characters with undeniable chemistry, kept from admitting their true feelings because of Person X or Situation Y, rinse and repeat misunderstandings and 'almosts' until the manga was ready to end. Maybe even leave room afterwards for a cute, episodic spin-off.

Easy.

The real world, however, rarely offered such simplicities.

For example, Akaashi was in love with an office worker whose desk was once across from his, and he was pretty sure they didn't even know his name.

It's not like he'd known he was going to fall for you. How could he have? There was no chorus of angels, no heavenly light from above as the world seemed to fall into slow-motion. No. On his first day in the office you had been late, stumbled in with messy hair and a haphazard stack of manuscripts that you smacked down onto your desk, and had nearly tipped your overfull coffee mug all over the floor. He could hardly call it a good first impression. And yet…

The other workers on your floor seemed to hold you in a very high regard. He'd barely been there a week when one of his concerns had been directed to your desk.

"Ah, excuse me. Takaoda-san told me you could help with this?"

Your attention snapped up from your screen to Akaashi and the folder tucked in his hands. Noticeably confused for a split second, it took a moment before realization dawned on you.

"Oh! You're the guy who just joined! Kashi-san, right? Yeah, I can help you with that!"

You didn't even give him time to correct your butchering of his name.

Not only had you solved his problem, you'd scooted your chair to the side a bit and motioned for him to drag his own over and seat himself beside you, carefully walking him through the entire process.

"There you are! I'll just email this over to you so you have the file on your computer then."

"Yes, thank you very much."

"No problem! If you have any more questions, I'd be happy to help you out."

Your kindness, it seemed, extended to the other members of your office floor as well. Not a day would go by without Akaashi seeing at least one person hunkered down beside you at your desk in various states of disarray, waiting for your kind and composed words to soothe their frazzled minds. Clearly you were a cherished member of this office.

He was sure that the warm stirrings beginning in his chest were no more than admiration at that point.

Mostly sure.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As his status with the editing company and his understanding of the industry began to rise, Akaashi was swiftly moved up to higher departments and higher pressures, longer meetings and tighter deadlines. He no longer spent as much time on the main floor where he'd started. But he still noticed you.

You'd been the first on the floor to cheer for him when it was announced that he'd be moving to his own private office. You patted him on the back and wished him well with a big, bright smile that made his stomach do something funny he tried to ignore. Occasionally you bumped into each other in the elevator, the break room, in meeting rooms as clusters of overworked people filed in and out.

And sometimes, on darkened evenings when he was leaving the building in the dead of night, he'd see you still sat at your desk. Alone in the office space, you continued to tap away at your keyboard. He'd never considered that for all the time you spent helping others with their problems, that was time unspent solving your own.

"Kashi-san?"

He faltered a bit under your tired gaze, lurking in the doorway of the floor, having finally caught your eye. He didn't even remember to correct you, again.

It didn't matter that much, though. Not when his body was already moving without him thinking, standing at the side of your desk and placing the canned coffee he'd just bought from the vending machine on its corner.

"It's almost 10. I'm surprised you're still here."

You blinked, then laughed, a sweet melodic tune. The coffee clutched in both hands, you looked up at him so sweetly that his heart hammered in response.

"Yeah, there's a lot to get done."

"Please be sure not to overwork yourself. You're a vital piece of this company."

I will, thank you… Hey, have you eaten?"

He startled, checking his watch. "N-Not since lunch."

"Let's grab something. My treat. Consider it a thanks for the coffee."

"Ah… if you insist."

Not that he needed much insistence.

And so began a comfortable pattern as late night dinners between the two of you became all the more common. It was rare that a week went by that didn't end a long and tiring day with ramen in a cozy booth, or snack foods scarfed down outside a 24-hour convenience store, your smiling face all the warmth he needed to stave off the evening chill.

Perhaps this was where he'd first realized, when you'd held a napkin out to him to dab away the teriyaki sauce smeared at the corner of his mouth: A sudden, longing lurch to do the same, to cup your cheek gently in his hand, to run the pad of his thumb over your soft lower lip. He walked home in a daze that evening, dusted with snow and brimming with warmth and confusion.

Realistically he knew that office romances weren't uncommon. He'd read enough manga and watched enough dramas to know that. And yet, he couldn't shake the concern so easily. What if your bosses found out? What would your co-workers think?

...What if it didn't work?

The only glimpses of yourself he'd gotten outside of a workplace environment were those short, shared meals. How could that be enough to judge whether you two were really meant to work well together? Was it worth risking the fallout?

No. Certainly not. Not for a silly crush. Akaashi could wait this out, he should wait this out. Keep his distance and wait until the butterflies faded and the fires died and he was left with the same feelings he'd felt for you in the beginning, appreciation and the occasional concern.

He would be fine.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On the dawn of week three of minimizing contact with you, Akaashi Keiji was decidedly not fine.

He hadn't realized how dependent he'd become on your presence until it was unceremoniously torn away from him. Is a grown man meant to crave another person's voice so much? Their smile? Their laugh? He felt like a schoolboy again, flustered and frustrated and brimming over with emotions he wasn't sure how to outlet.

On Tuesday morning you'd come in early, clearly dressed for a date. Takaoda confirmed his suspicion a moment later when he complimented your outfit.

"I've got a blind date tonight, actually."

The butterflies in Akaashi's stomach choked and died, falling like stones into the pit of his gut. He nearly shocked himself with the single word that screamed across his rushing mind, that he didn't dare speak aloud.

No.

He felt like a jerk. He felt like a coward. He felt like a horrible, selfish child. But when you saw him standing in the hall and lifted a hand to wave, Akaashi ducked his head and hurried to his office, pointedly and obviously ignoring your greeting.

Well done Keiji, surely they would return your feelings now.

Very little got done that day. And as the clock ticked ever and ever closer to 5pm, Akaashi knew he needed to make a choice. And he knew he needed help making it.

Lifting his cell phone, Akaashi called the one person he knew could give him an easy answer.

"Hey, hey, hey! Akaashi! How are you? Aren't you at work right now?"

"Yes, Bokuto-san. However, I had an important question I was hoping you could help me with."

"Of course! Must be real big if you're calling me about it, huh?"

"Yes, it is."

Faced with the possibility of finally having an answer to his concerns, Akaashi found himself at a loss of where to start.

"Bokuto-san, have you ever had feelings for someone but weren't sure if telling them was the best idea?"

"Oho? Romance questions? Now I'm real interested!" He could hear Bokuto's big, silly grin even over the phone. "Well yeah, some of the cheerleaders are pretty hot. And you remember that guy at the ramen place who always gave me extra coupons? Pretty sure he could've been my soulmate!"

"Bokuto-san, I believe my situation is a touch more serious than a waiter who gives me extra coupons."

Bokuto maturely responded by blowing a raspberry into the receiver.

"Well, if it's that serious why haven't you asked them yourself? You've gotten this torn up about it to call me, so it must be the real deal."

"It really isn't that easy…"

"Isn't it? I mean, they either like you or they don't, right? If they do, great! If they don't, well then you can just start getting over them faster."

Akaashi found himself struggling for a reasonable response to that.

"Hey, all I can say is, you miss a hundred percent of the shots you don't take! Someone famous said that. Shakespeare, I think."

"Wayne Gretzky."

"Bless you."

Sighing, Akaashi glanced at his watch. You would probably be leaving soon. You might even already be out of the office. "...Thank you, Bokuto-san. If you'll excuse me, I need to catch an elevator."

"Sure thing bud! Lemme know how it goes!"

Click.

Akaashi's office door swung shut alongside the soft click of Bokuto hanging up. He skittered on the tile, trying to right himself as he sprinted around the corner, stopping only for a second at the window to the office floor. No one there.

He was probably too late already, why wouldn't you have left early on the night of your date? You worked so hard every other day, surely you would take the few extra minutes to prepare yourself. You were smart like that. Smart, and beautiful, and considerate, and there was no way Akaashi was going to just let you walk off with another man, not without even trying…

Around the corner, standing at the door to one of the elevators, there you were. Why did you look so… grim?

"Oh, hey!" You forced a smile onto your face as you gave him a little wave. "Clocking out on time? That's not like you."

Akaashi opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He tried again, clearing his throat hard.

"Oh, damn. Here."

You pressed a half-empty water bottle into his hands.

"Were you running? You're wheezing like crazy."

Staring down at the bottle in his quivering hands, his mouth moved before his mind could work.

"A date!"

You froze, finally focusing up on his face, staring so, so deeply into his eyes. Or maybe you were just looking at him normally. He could no longer tell. "Oh, yeah. I had one. He had to cancel."

The water bottle clattered to the floor as he gripped both your hands in his.

"Would you consider dinner, then?... With… me? Not like we usually do, this one's…. It's…."

Your hands were so warm. You could probably feel how sweaty his were. Gross. He should probably let you go before you got creeped out or-

"A date?"

"....Please."

A giddy, boisterous laugh bubbled out of you, one he had only heard after you'd downed a few drinks yourself. You squeezed his hands tight, giving him a smile that washed his anxieties away like chalk beneath the rain.

"I'd like that."

"Ah. Yes. Shall we go then?"

"We shall." You hooked your arm around his elbow, giving him a playful grin. "Lead the way, good sir."

Akaashi had already decided for himself at an early point in his professional career that writing romance, for all intents and purposes, was easy.

Living it, though? That was much harder. But he couldn't find it in himself to mind.

"Oh! Takaoda finally told me I've been getting your name wrong this whole time? Why didn't you say anything? I feel like such a jackass!"

"There, uh, a good time to mention it never seemed to come up?"

"Well I have a lot of making up to do, don't I Akaashi?~"

"I'm looking forward to it."

#haikyuu #hq #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #valentines collab #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagines #long post #2100 words

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solasignora · 4 years ago

Text

He Walks in Starlight

Tags: bong jaehyun x reader, vaguely Star Trek inspired, mostly just a sci-fi au

Length: 2.1k words

First time writing a scenario/imagine so excuse my amateur writing. I really just wrote this for fun lol

Your eyes felt blurry as they struggle to open while you hear the tone of your alarm go off. It felt cold and all you wanted to do was lay under your blanket where it was warm and cozy. You sighed as you turned off your alarm. You looked at the calendar displayed on a screen. Star date 21499.2. You flattened down your disheveled hair before getting up to get ready.

The Compass was business as usual. The ship's bustling crew members were all at work. You went down to the records department to start your day of organizing files and data logs when you saw a rather tense figure standing at the door. It was a young man your age. He stood rather agonizingly. Once he got a glimpse of you he looked like a deer in headlights. Confused, you walked over to unlock the records lab. “Excuse me,” he said with a surprisingly deep voice. “Are you in the department of records?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.” you said after swiping your card. The door automatically slid open and both of you walked in. You sat and turned on the computer. He only stood in front of the desk where you were stationed.

“These are my files, I’m new.. just transferred from the Miracle.” he explained while handing over some rectangular discs. You took the discs from his slender hands and put them into your computer for analyzing.

[ Bong Jaehyun

Age: 22 Earth Years

Birth Place: Seoul, SK, Earth

Specialty: Geography and Cartography

*** ]

You looked at his photo and then looked up at him. Spitting image, no doubt he was legit. He’s quite handsome in your opinion. His eyes looked like shiny glass. They were pretty, almost like tiny galaxies were hidden in them. You looked away to finish the processing. You took his discs and filed it under Crew Members subsection ‘B’. “Alright, welcome to our ship, you’re officially part of the Compass now.” you gave him a slight smile. Jaehyun’s lips also curled into a smile.

“Thank you.” he said. He made his way to the door and promptly left.

***

Records were extremely flooded that particular day. Your fingers moved quickly as you processed files and organized discs. Dwarf Planet ZETA110 was being explored. Many records of the flora and fauna were piling in. Not only that but information the planet's makeup and natural climate came in as well. You felt exhausted as you moved back and forth between your computer and the filing wall. Thankfully, it was almost break time. You could almost taste that roasted chicken breast. The thought of food alone made you salivate. You stretched as you got up from your chair. Just then your shift relief came in and you grabbed your keycard and walked out. You tiredly rubbed the back of your neck as you made your way to the elevator.

The dining room was half full. You groaned and weaved through the amount of people sitting. You entered your card into the ordering machine and tapped your choice. It was only a moment's notice until the food came out. You looked around for an empty seat and saw Jaehyun again. He was sitting alone, still with that anxious body language from before. He looked like he was spacing out to a far off world. You hesitated, you weren’t really one to make acquaintances. Yet, you sympathized. Space was lonely and cold. It felt empty and void. When you didn’t have someone to really confide in, it felt even worse. Almost as if you’ve been exiled to a blackhole of self-pity and bitterness.

You walked over and sat across diagonally from him. You glanced at his plate to make conversation. “Spicy pork belly stew, nice choice,” you commented rather nervously. He looked over at you and perked up a bit.

“Hi.” he said, smiling a bit. His eyes glimmer and twinkle. You feel breathless for a moment.

“Hi,” you repeated back. “Are you settled in yet?” it had only been a few hours since you last saw him but you figured to ask anyway.

“No,” he sighed. You watched as he moved the handle of his spoon. “Had to beam down and take a look at the planet’s landscape.”

“How is it?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. You never really got the chance to go to other planets. Most of your companions were people who work on the ship and had no business being on the ground.

“Humid,” Jaehyun replies. “It’s so humid, like a jungle, but there’s not that many trees. Everything just feels heavy...”

You started to eat your food. After eating you got up to put back your tray and utensils. Jaehyun got up as well. You felt shy as you walked beside him. You wondered if it’s okay to open up more. “Hey, when will you be done for the day?” you asked.

“Not sure,” he replied. “Why?”

“Well, if you’re up for it, I’ll be in the break room. We can play a game of 3D chess if you’re interested. Or maybe a friendly 1-on-1 on the arcade machine if that’s more your style.” You suggested. Jaehyun blinked before smiling. He shyly looked away from you. You only took a moment to appreciate his side profile.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” He said.

“Well, duty calls, I’ll see you later.” You excused yourself from him.

***

Jaehyun’s presence was almost intoxicating. You wondered if it’s an effect due to the planet’s troposphere. Nonetheless, as the two of you stood together hovering the arcade machine, you felt warm. The both of you were focused on the game quietly. At one point you felt your hand accidentally brushed up against his.

Afterwards the two of you moved on to 3D chess. You tried to make conversation asking things about him. You found out that he’s a picky eater, he likes music, and fantasy movies. Much like yourself you enjoyed a good movie. The conversation then spiraled into the best movies made in the 21st century.

“Check,” you said while moving your piece to the second level.

“I’m not good at games, huh?” He joked.

“I mean, you’re not awful.” you assured him. Jaehyun held his chin thinking for a moment before making a move.

“Checkmate,” you laughed as you captured his king. He lets out a disappointed sigh before sitting back in his chair. You look over at the clock at the time you usually go to bed. “Well, it’s quite late isn’t it? I’m sure you’re tired.”

“I guess so...” he said before getting up from his chair. Almost immediately he loses his balance. You stood up quickly to hold him.

You put his arm around your neck. “Hey, Jaehyun, are you okay? Jaehyun?” You looked over to see his face had grown pale. His eyes looked dull, it no longer had that shine.

“Head...hurts… so bad…” he groaned.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you to the medical bay.” you comforted him.

In the medical bay Doctor Lee was busy taking care of two others. You were instructed to help Jaehyun onto one of the beds. You wondered if you should stay with Jaehyun. You obviously worried for him but maybe this was too much. You turned away from him but before you could move you felt a hand grab your wrist. Jaehyun’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist weakly. You looked at him softly. “Stay, please,” he croaked. His cheeks blushed red and he looked anxious. You only stood by him unsure of your ability to comfort him.

Thankfully it wasn’t dire. It turned out that several of the crewmen were affected by the planet’s air quality causing them to have hypertension. Jaehyun was fine. He’ll be back to normal by the next date. You let out a big sigh of relief as you lied in bed.

During your break you decided to visit him. When you entered the medical bay you saw Jaehyun sitting upright. His eyes were looking sparkly again. He almost resembled a puppy who was happy to see its owner. “Hi.” you greeted.

“Hi, good to see you again.” he smiled. He seemed to be in better condition.

“Status report?” you asked.

“All good, blood pressure back to normal, should be able to retreat to my quarters within the next hour or so,” Jaehyun reported. The two of you laughed as you looked into each other's eyes. “Once I’m out of here there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said. You lifted an eyebrow at him. “Meet me in the botanical lab when you’re free.”

The rest of your shift felt painfully slow. You were too curious about what was going to occur later. While your relationship with Jaehyun wasn’t extremely close yet it often felt intimate at times. You sighed as you organized the incoming discs. Everything felt like walking on thin ice. You never knew what exactly to feel other than attraction.

You promptly met Jaehyun in the botanical lab. He was sitting among the countless native flora of different planets. “Hi, again.” you greeted. Jaehyun stood up and signaled with his hand. You walked over to where he stood. You looked in the same direction as him and saw the most stunningly vibrant red plant. It was crimson red and it’s leaves were olive green. You stared for a moment then looked at Jaehyun.

“They call it a Carmesí Florera,” Jaehyun plucked a petal and sniffed it. “It smells like fruit punch,” he held it to your nose and you took a whiff. It really did smell like a fruit punch. It made you feel a little nostalgic. “And they say,” Jaehyun grabbed your hand and put the petal in the palm of your hand. “If you give a petal to someone, they’ll be with you for a long time...” you looked up at him as he gently closed your fingers into a fist. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at him. His ears were as red as the flower petals.

“What are you trying to say?” You questioned.

Jaehyun only shrugged. “You’re a great companion,” he said. You frowned a little. Part of you wished this could be a fairytale where next he’ll sweep you off your feet. But this wasn’t a fairytale, this is a science fiction that somehow became reality. However, this gesture was too strange. It didn’t make sense. Jaehyun was staring softly. He worried that he might have said something wrong. You clutch your flower petal and sighed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I don’t understand,” you said honestly. “What do you mean with this? We may be miles and miles away from Earth but this sentiment can be seen as a romantic gesture from any planet, I’m confused...”

Jaehyun looked scared for a moment. As if you said something awful to him. He seemed appalled but then something changed. He straightens out his back and looks you in the eyes. “Okay then, I’ll be honest, I like you, I have a fondness for you, I… want us to be closer, and maybe in the near future we can be more than that.” he admitted.

You blinked a few times. It was a romantic gesture. Jaehyun made a romantic declaration. Your relationship was, in part, intimate. Your face was red at that point and your heart was beating quickly. It happened too fast and you’ve never really felt like this before. You were smiling without noticing.

“I like you too.”

***

Bong Jaehyun walked in starlight. He was as bright as the sun but can feel cold as the moon. Behind his eyes was the universe’s tiniest galaxy. It twinkled and shined for the world to see yet it was tucked away for only the brave to explore. Just when he felt unreachable, he held out his hand just enough for you to reach. He was almost undetectable yet his gravitational pull left you no choice but to adore him. There may be thousands of galaxies out there to discover but you were glad to have discovered him.

Even though the two of you laid flat on the cold observatory room floor staring at the endless void that was space, he was still more breathtaking than the billions of stars littered around them. You stared at him wondering what he was thinking about as he looked up at the vast sky. Was he also comparing you to a star?

Slowly you inched your hand close to his. You wondered if it was okay. Your pinky finger shyly bumped into his. You felt his hand touch yours almost as if it were asking for an embrace. Your fingers interlocked with his and you couldn’t help but smile. Jaehyun turned to look at you. He looked with a certain tenderness that makes your stomach flip. In that moment, you concluded that out of all the stars in the universe he was the brightest.

#golden child #golden child imagines #golden child scenarios #bong jaehyun x reader #bong jaehyun

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lovesickallovermybed · 5 years ago

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GIF Making/Sharpening/Colouring Tutorial

hi all! i’ve been asked many times to talk about how i sharpen and colour my gifs so today i will be doing a step by step tutorial on how i do

what you need:

photoshop (i use a constantly updating one)

a video of some kind

space in your computer

difficulty: medium

before:

after:

step one: download a video that is 720p-1080p

this is a fairly simple step, however, DO NOT DOWNLOAD IN 4K. what this tends to do is make the frames longer and blurrier whenever you’re attempting to sharpen them than they actually are. i usually pull videos from youtube or use quicktime to screen record videos. there are also lots of resources for videos that are kept on google drive.

step two: in photoshop, go to file - import - import frames to layers

to import frames to layers, you want to have a .mp4/.mov of some kind. i prefer the quality of mp4 over mov because it tends to create better spacing between frames, but mov still looks good!

step three: in import frames to layers, pick the relative part you want to gif.

only pick the first gif you want to make. a lot of times photoshop will run slower on older computers due to the processors within the computer. if you stick to only giffing one at a time, your computer won’t slow down as much.

step four: create the frames, but don’t select “limit to every __ frames”

many people do this and will limit to every 2 frames. while this used to be needed because of tumblr only allowing a 1mb limit back in the day, the limit on gif size has increased to 10mb. the chances of you making a gif that is 10mb is pretty small unless it is large with a lot of frames. if you’re wondering why your gifs aren’t as smooth, it’s usually because you are limiting frames.

step five: make all of your frames .03/.05 sec long

usually at this step after creating the frames they will come out to be .04secs or .02secs long. if you save a gif at this level it’ll look too fast. instead go to the far right of the timeline and select the three lined box, in this box you will see an option that says “select all frames.” after pressing it all of the frames will be selected and you can go to where it says .02/.04 and change that time. click “other...”, then type in .03/.05. you can chose to change this at your discretion and personal taste. this is just what i NORMALLY do.

step six: now you want to crop and resize your gif as well as remove frames

these are the different proportions that i usually use:

for large full-width: 540x270

for 8 gif edits: 270x152

for longer looking full-width: 540x230

for full body: 270x330 or 270x300

for headers: 700x374

to crop, select the crop tool and get rid of any black edges or any part you don’t want of the image. then go to edit - image size. either do 540px or 270px and adjust the canvas size afterward based on if you had to input the width or the height to get the start of the proportion you want. this is also where you can test your gif to see if the frames are too many and can delete whatever you don’t want.

step seven: creating a timeline

now that you have the start of your gif, you would think we would move onto colouring, wrong. now we have to make your framed gif into a timeline one instead. in the animation toolbar there is a button next to where it says “forever” and you will click this button to convert the animation to timeline.

step eight: sharpening the gif

okay now this is where it gets a little trickier. what you want to do is go to the top and pick select - select all frames after this all of the frames will be reselected. then click filter, convert for smart filters. this will make your animation all into one single layered smart object.

after creating this smart object go back into edit and select smart sharpen. the settings i use are pictured below but i will also list them out here: amount: 500%, radius: 0.4px, reduce noise: 50%, shadows and highlights: fade amount: 0, tonal width: 50%, radius: 1px

now, click onto the layer you just sharpened. then right click and select duplicate layer. the shortcut for this is command+j. add a guassian blur to the object of 1px. then, make the layer 22-33% opacity. what this does is blur how sharp the effect is to make it seem more natural and clear.

step nine: colouring

now that the gif is sharp, we can actually colour it. whenever i colour the first thing i do is make a selective colour layer. within this layer you want to go to neutrals first. change these settings based on how you want the environment and colours to look. less black makes the scene lighter, more makes it darker. also go to the white and black categories within the selective layer. i tend to put the black at nearly 100% depending on how dark the scene is, (if it is lighter i usually don’t want to darken it too much), because what this does is keep the noise out from the darker areas of the gif. i almost always also always put white and -100% black to get rid of any black that might be within the white parts of the gif to take the noise out.

after this, i always add a curve layer to brighten and harden the gif. i then add another selective colour gif and adjust according to what just makes the gif look sharper/more colourful. obviously settings are going to be different for everyone, but i almost always use these at the beginning for a good base gif. after this selective colour layer in this scene i added a levels layer and defined more of where i wanted the light to go and the darkness/neutral light shifts. next i added a colour balance layer and changed midtones/highlights/shadows to sort of warm up the gif as well as make certain colours more defined. i then placed a vibrance layer to let the colours other than black and white stand out more. after this i added in another selective colour layer and i used this to brighten the cyan of the dress as well as change some of the red and yellow in the skin to make it darker and more defined. for some reason there was a hue of a blue shadow around the dirt and i wanted it to be black so i went to hue/saturation and changed the blues to being 100% black instead of blue so that the shadow would look darker.

finally, as with any of my gifs, i added an exposure layer the settings for this layer are in its screenshot below. very rarely do i ever change from these settings but you can play around with them as you please

step ten: saving the gif

i was asked many times how i save my gifs and the settings i use so here is how. to save, go to file - export - save for web (legacy). (it may take a moment for your gif to be ready to save but don’t worry this is normal.)

make sure that within the save for web you have perceptual and diffusion selected for how you save your gif. at the bottom you also want to have bicubic sharper as the quality of the gif. as long as your settings look like mine, you’re good to save!

step eleven: you may or may not need this step

occasionally, photoshop will play a trick where even though you saved your frames as .05secs it changes them automatically to .07secs per frame instead. to check this, reopen your gif, convert it to a frame animation, then look to see. you can easily just change the .07 back to a .05 and save for web again right after then replace the slower gif with the faster one

and thus we have:

#tutorial #gif making #gif tutorial #yeahps #photoshop help #theme hunter #itsphotoshop #chaoticresources #completeresources #allresources #mine #tutorials

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radramblog · 3 years ago

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Radiohead Retrospective Part 6: Ripples on a Blank Shore

Hail to the Thief was Radiohead’s last album with the record label EMI. This is probably good, seeing as EMI are a massive conglomerate, one of the biggest record companies in the world, and that doesn’t really suit Radiohead’s image. It’s not like they needed them to get big anymore.

With that lack of contractual obligation to make new music, the band was able to spend a fair bit longer on the next album, as well as do a few things on the side. Thom made The Eraser, Jonny did some soundtracks. They went on tour between recording sessions, because they weren’t really getting anywhere, and tried some of their material live. It sounds like it was a lot less stressful than the previous, label-driven work. While they would eventually resign onto XL Recordings, that’s a much smaller, independent company, and the band’s next album would be self-released anyway.

In Rainbows had a very interesting release. Much like what many a Bandcamp artist does now, the album was released as a pay-what-you-want online download, with paying 0 dollars being an option you could take. This wasn’t really a thing back in 2007, so it stirred up quite the fuss. It also helped that it was an excellent fucking album, which many hail as equal or greater than OK Computer at the top of the Radiohead Totem Pole.

I suppose, then, it’s only fair to actually talk about the album.

The album opens with 15 Step, and what a way to open an album. We’ve got the mix of real and manufactured percussion, we’ve got calming falsetto and we’ve got those absolutely lovely guitar chords. The handclaps are back, and unlike We Suck Young Blood they’re genuine and optimistic rather than sarcastic- in case the kids going “yaaaay!” wasn’t obvious, though it’s not hard to be in a higher mood than WSYB. Considering how melancholy Hail to the Thief, not to mention the other albums the band’s made, have tended to be, this feels light, airy, and refreshing.

A mix of electronic and acoustic that is a great way of introducing the album- considering the constant comparisons the record gets to OK Computer, opening with a track that demonstrates everything the band has learned in the 10 years since is just great. I’m just going to get this out ahead of time, this album is very good, and held in such high esteem for a reason.

The second track is Bodysnatchers, one of the rockier songs the alleged Rock band released in the 2000s. It’s a pretty significant contrast to 15 Step, a bass-driven, driving rock song that screams paranoia. It’s one kept moving at a forward pace by its uptempo percussion and acoustic strumming, while the other instruments just chug along in quite the satisfying manner.

Bodysnatchers’s energy feels really unique on this album, to the point where I wouldn’t be surprised if people thought it didn’t really fit. It’s harsher and edgier, somewhat reminiscent of a King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard track at times, manic and energetic and layered. I’m not going to agree with the idea that Bodysnatchers doesn’t belong on In Rainbows, because the song fucks, but there is a fair case to be made for its difference.

youtube

Anyway, next up is Nude. It’s not quite as fun as it sounds. The effects on this instrumental opening make it feel almost film-soundtrack-like, somewhat reminiscent of Motion Picture Soundtrack (that might be a bit of a stretch, though). The bulk of the track is largely built around the vocal track, ethereal and dominant, with the instrumental being a relatively simple guitar/drum piece to back up Thom’s impeccable falsetto. The song rises a lot for it’s bridge, crescendoing just like back in the old days with strings and effects, with lyrics that almost chide the listener for poking fun at the song’s name, like I just did. I’m sorry to disappoint you, lads!

Nude is not a song I often find myself in the mood for, to be frank. It’s unquestionably gorgeous, but also simultaneously too much and not enough? Too much as in like, that vocal track is a little overblown sometimes as is the intro, and not enough as in, the bulk of the song is a touch boring? I don’t know, I’m ready to be strapped to a wall for that one, but I’m sticking with the take.

On the other hand, I’m basically never not in the mood for Weird Fishes/Arpeggi. I’ve always found this track extremely soothing, an absolute unparalleled vibe. The simple but sweet guitar lines just feel nautical in a way I can’t describe, comfortable in a way the actual ocean very doesn’t get me. The bass is extremely subtle, but it helps a lot to keep the track moving between modes as it builds and builds and builds and builds and just falls away…

I’ve gotten some pushback before when describing this song as “chill”, and considering the way it builds up so much in the middle third, I guess I can see how one would disagree. But I can’t describe how or why the song makes me feel the way it does, it just, does. Something about those clean drums piercing through the haze of the track, the lyricism, the vibe. It’s the vibe.

Next up is All I Need, a smooth, slow, dark track with a much lower mood than the songs we’ve heard so far- even moreso than Bodysnatchers. This is the album’s low point moodwise, pretty much inarguably, and some might argue also as far as songs go.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s far from a bad song. The piano chords are simple but effective, contrasted against the….xylophone, I think, but that only happens for a relatively small portion of a pretty long song. Which is largely just low percussion and vocals. I will say, the bridge is excellent, a rising cry of keys and drums against the void, which wouldn’t work nearly as well if the rest of the song isn’t the way it was. But as a whole, the song isn’t the best Radiohead has to offer, if you catch my drift.

I think the next song, Faust Arp, is kind of underrated. I mean, I know it’s the least listened to song on the album on Spotify, I’m looking at the numbers, it’s not close. That’s kind of to be expected with a song that, at least for Radiohead’s scales, very short, at just over 2 minutes long. But it’s a beautiful little acoustic/string piece that I really enjoy. Short and sweet, I suppose. You can call it interstitial all you want, and it’s not going to compare to song number 7, but it’s a good song, dangit.

Oh right, song number 7. Reckoner. A couple weeks ago, I mentioned that I didn’t think Radiohead captured quite the beauty of Pyramid Song again for a few more albums. Reckoner is that lightning captured in a bottle once again. This song is incredibly emotional, and undeniably excellent.

The song feels like it’s on separate layers, spaced and airy drums with a very light guitar strum, Thom’s vocals meandering somewhere in between, struggling to be heard. And then you get to 1:20, and the piano kicks in, and it brings the tracks together, giving the song an incredible fullness as the lyrics “You are not to blame…” begin. The song keeps going like this, adding in background vocals for a bit, before dropping almost entirely, for the bridge. The rising string, the backing vocals singing the album’s name, and the way the song’s mood subtly shifts afterwards- it’s so beautiful.

Anyway fun fact the bit where the background lyrics start singing “In Rainbooooows” is apparently exactly 61.8% of the way through the album, and that’s the golden ratio, baby. It has apparently been confirmed to be accidental, but it’s still really fun. I do enjoy when silly maths things end up in songs- Lateralus by Tool, for example, is pretty much completely written around the Fibonacci Sequence, from its lyrics to its chords to its time signature.

youtube

Tangents aside, our next song is House of Cards, a song I’ve kind of fallen off of as of late. It’s a lot like a less melancholy All I Need, or a less tightly wound Faust Arp (but without them strings), though the reverb on this song gives it a much spacier feel. There’s something really tense about the ambient noise in the background as well, making it hard to truly settle into the song’s groove. I don’t know, I used to like this song, but I’m not sure what it is about it that’s missing now. Sorry to disappoint, I suppose.

youtube

By contrast, Jigsaw Falling Into Place is one that took me a while to get into, because I think I just never gave it a chance. I dunno, I think much like with In Limbo it just kinda slid out of my brain every time I heard it. Well, it’s bloody clung on now, hasn’t it? This song is loads of fun! It’s a real groove, fun lyricism and great drums and Thom very notably not singing in falsetto for like half the song before it shifts gears and oh there it is! It’s another one of those great songs with a slow build, what with the backing vocals slowly getting louder and rowdier and the guitars getting more intense and yeah.

Oh also, that video is fun, if a little disorienting. I still can’t believe how many of these music videos I just…missed entirely.

Our final song, Videotape, is significantly less fun. Let me put it this way, lots of people think it’s a suicide note in song form, and it’s not, it’s just someone’s last message as they pass away after a long long life. On the other hand, it does fit the word Mephistopheles into the lyrics, and I think pulling that off is pretty fun.

Videotape has relatively simple instrumentation- piano chords, with a syncopated percussion coming in about a third of the way through. Much of the soundscape is dominated by that piano and the backing vocals. The song is tragic, undoubtedly, but it’s a warmer kind of tragic than previous albums have gone out on- the soft piano giving it a heart that tracks like Street Spirit (Fade Out) and Motion Picture Soundtrack somewhat lack. It’s sad, yes, but peaceful, and comforting. The closing line is beautifully haunting- I know today has been the most perfect day I’ve ever seen.

Not so much on my end, weather was shit and my brain decided to have a depressive episode in the afternoon.

Thus ends In Rainbows. Unless you count the bonus disc, something I desperately need to acquire in CD form despite the fact that it appears to barely if ever have been released in that format. I brought up comparisons to OK Computer earlier, and I’m not entirely certain that they’re that justifiable, conspiracy theories about a threaded playlist notwithstanding. Yeah, it’s deliberately the 10 to OKC’s 01, but the style and tone are just so utterly different. 10 years is a long time for an artist, let alone a musician, and let alone a band that did Kid A.

I’m not going to comment on whether I think In Rainbows is better or worse than OK Computer. It’s the eternal question, seemingly, and you’re not going to find an answer here. They’re not really comparable, in my eyes- apples and oranges. The cold technology of a late 90s PC and the natural beauty of a cascading rainbow.

But if In Rainbows is OK Computer, then The King of Limbs must be Kid A. This comparison I think I can understand better, which I suppose we’ll discuss next Tuesday. Adios?

#ramble #music #radiohead #in rainbows #taaaaaake me wiiiiiiiith youuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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He Could Scream: Kauri

CW: Electric shock treatment, lab whump dehumanization, pet whump, referenced past dubcon/noncon, referenced drugging, abusive relationship (from abused person’s POV)

Immediately follows The Surgery

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @burtlederp, @18-toe-beans, @finder-of-rings, @whump-chains, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

“Okay, little man,” Tyler says, a bright, pleased smile on his face. He isn’t wearing his long white coat, today, just a simple button-up shirt with a starched collar and nice dress pants. There’s a little ID card hanging on a metal clip off his shirt pocket, a tiny little rectangular photo of Tyler smiling bright and cheerful against a plain blue background.

The smile is always the same.

Kauri spent four days in the recovery room - he could track days in there, the nurse named Bobbie checked on him five times every day every few hours, and Kauri had grasped onto that much control and information and held tight - and then it was back to the same place, white walls and 162 white tiles. Irregular feedings,

Except in moments like this one, when they bring him out to test the product.

“Hey.” Fingers snap just under his nose and Kauri jumps, blinking rapidly, pulled from his thoughts. “Hey, bud, you need to pay attention.”

Kauri stares at him with red-rimmed eyes, feeling emptied out, like a cup full of water that they had poured and poured - and still they searched for one more drop. After a second, he slowly nods. “I’m, I’m paying attention, sir,” He says softly, sitting on the examination table feeling the little paper crackle underneath him as he shifts around.

“Hey, I’m not a handler, man. You can just call me Tyler.”

“Um…”

Tyler smiles at him expectantly, and Kauri still fights the urge to smile back automatically. Tyler is always smiling - sometimes bright and cheerful and proud like now, sometimes nervous and like he’s hiding fear, sometimes a smile that is blank and empty when the Director comes to see how the tests are going.

When the Director comes, she puts on those blue gloves and touches the red, irritated healing skin around the new things they’ve put into him. Sometimes she pushes hard into the stitches and nearly breaks them, and he sees Del wincing just behind her, but no one says a word to the Director.

When he cries out, she presses harder. If Kauri takes all her pressing and prodding without a flinch, she pulls back and praises him.

He is starting to hate the words good boy.

“Try it for me,” Tyler encourages him, soothingly. He puts a hand on either side of Kauri’s face and shakes his head a little, back and forth. “Come on, kiddo.”

“... Okay,” Kauri says, finally, wanting to cringe back and away but he can’t. “Um. Tyler.”

“Good, great. I know this part’s not much fun, ‘898, I get it, but you’ve done so well up until now.” Tyler ruffles his hair and Kauri’s eyes flutter closed involuntarily - it feels good, he can’t help it. He doesn’t want the touch to feel good, but it does.

Because of them. It’s because of people like Tyler - because people like Tyler used other people like me, a long time ago, to find out how to make us different people than we used to be. They took all those things they learned and put them into me, to make me like this.

Tyler’s wide bright smile, flashing teeth, his long hair pulled back in its usual bun against the nape of his neck, the way he’s rubbing his hands together - it’s all a blur of things Kauri can’t quite focus on. His shoulders keep jumping, jerking him forwards without his consent. Fingers twitch and when they try to have him hold a pen it just drops, again and again and again.

When he was trained the first time, they trained him to be scared of holding pens - his hands shook when he tried, he couldn’t get a good grip.

It’s worse now.

Kauri wonders if the shaking will ever fully stop.

“We’re going to take things nice and slow today. This is all going on record for the Director, so you really need to work hard for me. Got it?” Tyler tilts his chin up and Kauri blinks at him, nodding slowly, his eyes skimming to the camera fixed in the corner near the ceiling, the big black circle that hangs down from the ceiling tiles. Staring, staring, staring.

They will tape his screaming. People like Tyler will study it. And then they’ll do it to someone else, too - some other Box Boy - over and over and over again-

Stop thinking. Get through this and go home. Once they’re done with tests, Owen will take you home, you’ll go home.

Thinking of Owen brings new pain, different pain - a twist inside him because going home isn’t any better, is it? If he goes home, Owen will have the little button they push to hurt him. Owen, who put his hands on his neck and pushed him onto his stomach on the floor next to the couch… he’ll have a new way to hurt him when he’s angry, and he had promised to never, ever hurt him like this.

Kauri swallows back the noise he wants to make, low and broken.

“Okay.” Tyler turns back to look up at the camera, holding up one hand to count down from five. Kauri watches, feeling dull and far away from himself.

Five… four… three… two… one…

“Disciplinary implant with electrical output,” Tyler says to the camera, his voice dropping from its usual good cheer to serious, and Kauri stares at the neatly twisted bun of hair on the back of his neck. “This is subject eight to receive the implants and the first to show success afterward. Subject is number Six-Four-Five-Eight-Nine-Eight, known by owner as Kauri, spelled K-A-U-R-I.” Tyler glances back at him. “Remind me to tell your owner sometime that ‘kauri’ is actually a whole word with a pronunciation, and what he calls you ain’t it.”

Kauri doesn’t say anything - just drops his eyes down to the ground - and after a beat, Tyler shrugs and turns back to the camera.

“Guess the owner’s never spent time ‘Down Undah’,” Tyler says with a cheerful, absolutely awful accent that Kauri doesn’t recognize and can’t place. Then he pauses. “Wait. Is New Zealand still Down Under? Shit. Aren’t those two places close to each other? I feel like… Australia’s probably pretty close… oh shit, I have no fucking clue what distance is like over there. Huh. I probably should have paid more attention in, like, geography or whatever. I’m guessing watching that show with the hot mermaids doesn’t count as studying New Zealand…” His voice trails off. Then snaps back up at the camera. “Well, shit, that’s a bad take. Okay. One more time.” Tyler sighs, holds up five fingers to the camera, starts counting again.

Kauri wonders exactly how Tyler became a scientist - or if he’s really something else entirely, and they put a white coat on him and called him a scientist to hide what he really is, what he really does, in his work on Kauri and the others like him.

Five… four… three… two… one…

“Disciplinary implant with electrical output,” Tyler repeats, in the same serious, professional voice, and Kauri doesn’t move - doesn’t even swing his legs - he just stares down at the floor and waits for his little speech to finish, for the pain to start again.

“We’ve been working with this subject during post-op and currently to set the parameters of the implant as per the owner’s instructions,” Tyler says, moving back to stand right next to where Kauri sits on the examination table even as he pitches his voice for the camera in the ceiling, giving it the occasional glance with his head slightly tilted. Angled, Kauri thinks - he wants to look good on the camera.

“Main parameter is successfully set. Example #1 is prepared. 645898, please give your attention to the board on the wall.”

Kauri tenses, blue eyes flaring just a little.

He hates this test.

“Come on, little man,” Tyler says softly, encouragingly, and puts a hand on Kauri’s back, rubbing soothing circles that make his skin crawl and wish for more all at once. “You can do this for us, okay? Just be really good for me. I really need this promotion.”

I really need you to have not torn my skin open and made me watch you do it, but here we are.

The wall is crumbling inside Kauri’s mind, and he doesn’t even try to put the pieces back in any longer. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if he remembers things, if he gets angry inside, if Owen notices. He’s controlled, now. Owen will make sure he can’t read, or send a message, ever… ever again.

They don’t even care enough to erase it all any longer, because they don’t have to. He can be angry all he wants - he’ll still be helpless.

Tyler’s hand slides up to the back of his neck, lays heavy there and clammy. His thumb presses into the side of Kauri’s neck and Kauri shudders and raises his eyes.

“Good boy, ‘898,” Tyler murmurs, and Kauri bites down on his lower lip until it hurts.

There’s a large white dry-erase board with black letters written on it hung on the wall opposite from the exam table Kauri is sitting on. When they’d brought him in here, Tyler and Delevigne had talked about how the computer had chosen randomized words based on Kauri’s life before.

What was my life before? Why does a computer get to know and I don’t?

Kauri’s eyes land on the whiteboard, try briefly to focus on METAPHOR in Tyler’s thick scrawl. As soon as the black marks coalesced into a word, the fire lit his nerves again.

Kauri jerked forwards, crying out helplessly - it never mattered how many times they practiced, he always cried out - and Tyler’s hand tightened on the back of his neck, pulling him back.

Kauri went rigid, tears in his eyes. “Pl-please,” He breathes, in the stammer, the shock-speech the handlers call it and laugh at him. “Please, m-make it, make it st-stop, Tyler, please-”

“Look away from the word, buddy,” Tyler says, unperturbed, watching Kauri’s face. “That’s all you have to do, is drop your eyes.”

Kauri tries but he can’t, every muscle is locked against the electricity. His whimpers become choked-off sobs as tears flood his eyes, until finally the words blur enough to be unrecognizable.

The pain stops, and Kauri can finally lower his eyes. He tries to breathe through the aftershocks, curling his hands into fists to keep them from twitching and shaking too much. Tyler’s hand never leaves his neck, presses against it like a weight.

“Subject is exposed to shock as soon as focus on words is registered,” Tyler says to the camera, and the smile is hinting at the corners of his mouth again. “Subject shows marked reluctance to engage with text even when given a direct order, as the subject is aware of the consequences if he does so. We’ll do one more, 645898.”

Kauri jerks in a breath and nods quickly, feeling his curls starting to stick to the cold sweat that’s broken out across his body, the way his thin white trainee T-shirt sticks to the sweat on his back. The recirculated air washes across his arms, his bare legs and feet, and he starts to shiver. He can hardly tell the difference between the shivers from cold and the muscle shakes from the electric shock.

The little circles - the shock implants - feel hot, like when he would sit on Owen’s balcony in the sunlight too long and the warmth of the sun turned to an uncomfortable, prickling burn. When he looks down, he can just see them, glowing slightly at the bottom of his vision. Can see the stitches, the skin around them red and irritated, that travel in a perfect line from his right shoulder to the center of his chest.

Tyler steps away from him and walks across the room. Kauri keeps his head down and watches from under his dark eyelashes as the word Tyler had written is erased with the little black eraser. Tyler checks a card he pulls from his pocket and writes something new. Kauri drops his eyes so he won’t look at the word a single second longer than he has to - aware, with a twist of disgusted fear inside of him, that that’s the response he’s supposed to have.

The headaches come and go, as memories break free or sink back under the fog in his head, but they don’t care about the memories anymore.

They don’t care what he knows.

Because they know that Kauri is controlled.

“Shit, she’s gonna be so happy,” Tyler murmurs as he goes back to Kauri’s side. “She wanted us to make sure her poor sad sack kid can do this without a memory wipe, and we’re gonna give her a fucking work of art, little man. Okay. Look up.”

They put the implants under his skin.

They record the pain he feels.

They record when he screams.

They will use it to hurt someone after him.

And Tyler will be rewarded for it.

Kauri swallows hard. Tyler slides an arm around his shoulder, leans in close, and takes him by the chin. His sweaty fingers tilt Kauri’s chin up and up and up.

“I said look up, bud,” Tyler says, more forcefully this time.

Kauri’s eyes land on HERO’S JOURNEY but don’t take in that the individual letters even form words before the burn lights him up again and he starts to shake.

His eyes locked with the pain like every other part of him, and when he sees the words all Kauri can do is wail, half-choked as his muscles are forced into rigidity, a pressure that seems like it might snap bones. He can’t stop looking, he can’t stop, and it won’t stop hurting until he stops looking.

Finally Tyler grabs him by the hair and pushes down, forces his gaze back down to the floor to break his eye contact with the letters. Kauri sobs, tears sliding down his cheeks as he shakes and shakes in Tyler’s arms. His hands won’t close, the fingers keep moving, twitching, jerking little nonsense movements he can’t control.

“Success,” Tyler says loudly, happily, for the camera. Then he pets through Kauri’s hair, holding him close. Kauri leans against him automatically, eyes blank and unfocused, sobbing hoarsely through a throat that aches from screaming. “End recording. There we go, buddy, there we go. All done for now. All done, little man, all done… there we go, just let it out, there you go… God, I am so grateful for you. You're so lucky, man, we're going to be written into those fucking brochures now, you and me… you’ve done so well and the Director is gonna give me one fuck of a bonus for this, you’ve been so, so good for me, little man, so good…”

Tyler’s fingers card through black curls, scratch just a little into his scalp, run down his neck and then back up again, and Kauri shudders against something new - not the simple I-want-this he has to every touch, but the old disgust he used to feel, used to be able to access. He doesn’t want Tyler to touch him, he doesn’t want to be his very good boy and help him design something terrible to do to someone else, he doesn’t want he doesn’t want he doesn’t want.

He keeps crying, but the tears begin to change. He can feel the sick lurch in his stomach, the way his mouth wanted to pull his lips back into a snarl. He can feel the fight he’d had, a long time ago, before it was all gone. The version of him that had said you can’t take my name from me - but they did… they took his name and they took the fight, too.

They didn’t care if he remembered, any longer. Owen didn’t care what he felt - that he might feel hurt Owen broke his promise, that he might be angry about it. Owen didn’t care.

All Owen cared about was that Kauri could be controlled.

Punished. Disciplined, for thinking for himself. For having a thought Owen wasn’t in charge of. For doing one single thing just for himself.

Why didn’t you just tie me to the bed?

Kauri sniffled, and Tyler misunderstood the reason, tightening his arms around him, shushing him in a low soft sincere voice. He thought Kauri was sad - and he was - but the tears weren’t from sadness.

The tears were from anger.

“Take your time,” Tyler whispers into his ear, petting him gently. “Take your time, ‘898. Just breathe, little guy, you’re doing great. We’re going to bring in the computer next, okay?”

Kauri shivers, clenching his eyes shut, feeling a ghost of electricity just thinking about looking at the keyboard again. And they’ll make him - make him look, make him try to type, try to read, and they’ll hurt him every time he does.

Because he can’t be allowed to read or write, or think for himself, or think at all. Because he has to be locked up, closed up in Owen’s condo, kept like the cat the neighbors owned next door. Because he has to be empty, and pretty.

Because Owen is jealous of every thought Kauri has that isn’t about him.

“I know it sucks, little dude, I totally get it,” Tyler says, and Kauri wants to spit no you don’t, you don’t understand anything about me, but all he does is miserably nod, allow himself to be held, try to ignore the way his body wants to react even now, even to this, the way it was trained to. “I know. But look - once the Director is happy with the recordings, we’ll get you back home, and your owner will be so happy to see you, right? Because you’ll be totally perfect for him, exactly how he wants you now.”

Why don’t I get to choose how I want me to be? What did I do to deserve having that choice taken away? Why won’t you let me be a person anymore?

Why can’t Owen just love me back?

Kauri cries in the arms of a scientist who will not stop hurting him and he’s so hurt, and scared, and sad, and mostly he’s so angry he could scream.

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hecohansen31 · 4 years ago

Note

55/57 with Ivar

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I might be having a slight... just slight... infatuation for sub! Ivar... ahem... sorry... I hope you won’t it annoying (plus this is set up in ‘The Tinder Date That Changed Everything’ Universe)

WARNINGS: Anal Sex (Male Receiving), Handjob, Sex, Dirty Talk, Pegging, Mention of Toxic Masculinity.

The Perks Of Being Convincing:

You bet that Ivar hadn’t thought it would end up like this, when he had suggested to you to try out anal.

He didn’t definitely expect it to be tried out on himself.

But eventually a good amount of pouting and a good amount of scientific researches about prostate and its advantages had convinced your boy to ‘let you hit it’ from behind, although this would have to never ever get out of your shared bedroom, much to Ivar’s privacy and remaining toxic masculinity.

‘And if I say the safe word, you immediately stop and we never ever talk about this, anymore, understood’ he had ordered, when he had finally relented, and you had eagerly nodded, already giddy on the thought of tapping that ass.

You had actually gone with Ivar to select the chosen strap-on.

Ivar had blushed for the entire trip at the sexy shop, hiding behind sunglasses and oversized clothes.

You had tried to reassure him that the clerk wasn’t noisy and minded his own business, since you had bought a great deal of strangely-looking toys, without the man raising a single eyebrow at your purchases, and when you had gone to get the strap-on, settling for a medium-sized black one, Roland, the clerk, had simply asked if you wanted lube to go with that.

Ivar had wanted to bury himself in that moment, but you had simply shaken your head telling him that you had already some back home.

And afterward you had thought to give him a ‘special gift’ for having been ‘so courageous’, something that had literally ‘raised up’ his mood for the next week and that Saturday, meanwhile you settled up for your usual ‘Netflix and chill’ night, Ivar had started nosing up your neck, in a clear attempt to initiate something, which wasn’t unusual.

But you were surprised when he suggested that ‘you tried the new thing’.

You had been surprised about the fact that he wanted to initiate it, but you had taken it as a good sign, leading him to the bedroom, as you took in his nervous body, tense enough that you were sure he’d snap in two if you even tried to come closer to him in that moment, and you thought that you’d have to start soft, unsure if Ivar would be up for it by the end of the night.

But you’d certainly enjoy getting him ready.

Starting with a massage to relax his tight body.

‘Aren’t we…?’ he wasn’t even able to finish the phrase, but you simply smirked at him, shaking your head.

‘We’ll start slow and see’ you commented softly, meanwhile you gently made him turn around, as you guided his hands above his face, to make his body assume a more natural pose, then you went to retrieve the massage oil you used when you were nothing more than a single and lonely girl, having kept it, because it could have an internal use and its smell was quite comforting to you.

And to Ivar too, who breathed deeply the smell as you lathed your hands with the oil.

Ivar got his shirt out of the way, but kept his pants, signaling to you that he wasn’t completely comfortable yet, but you were more than happy to help him get there, gently starting from the top of his back and moving to his lower back, feeling the tension of weeks of working on the computer and forcing himself through the new calibers.

By the time you had done his back, he was relaxed.

You proceeded to slowly lower his pants at first and then his boxers, making you smirk as you gave him a few sot kisses down his back, before Ivar turned softly around to share a soft kiss with you, his body reacting naturally underneath you and when you reached his front, he was hard and ready for you.

But this didn’t mean that he was still comfortable.

Although his moans ached desperately for you.

So, you moved down his front, your nails making light red trails, in their wake, something that never failed to excite Ivar.

He may act all tough, but intimacy was somewhere where he left all the control to you, although he wouldn’t say it out loud.

But he certainly enjoyed every inch of it.

Your hands were still all oiled up and they glided easily on his member, when they ended up on it, teasing him in a delicious way that had Ivar shaking and trembling on the mattress, as you guided him with a soft pace through a climax, almost a torture.

Your lover blacked out for quite a bit, something that got you almost worried that your fun for tonight might end quickly.

Although the intimacy with Ivar was one of the best you had ever had, he still had to gain his own stamina, because it wasn’t difficult for him to lose his hardness in the middle of having sex, something that you didn’t hold against him, since he wasn’t one to leave you unsatisfied, but sometimes you had to stop for a bit and maybe start later.

Something that you knew frustrated Ivar, although you had told him many and many times all over again that you wouldn’t have ever wanted to have sex with anybody else, no matter their stamina or their ‘properly-functioning dick’.

But you knew that if you felt like he was going too far, he’d prefer it if you stop and slow the rhythm.

But as Ivar came to his senses, searching you beside him, you moved to reach his side quickly.

He had something tender in his eyes, relaxed, as he chased your lips almost desperately, meanwhile you felt him grow hard again under the hand that was near his cock.

Your man then muttered something like ‘let’s pass to the true show’, even making a show of pushing himself onto his knees for you, wiggling his ass, as you softly giggled, lightly slapping its plumpness.

‘Are you sure?’ you asked him softly, as you got him to face you again, something that was always needed when having this kind of conversations ‘… because you don’t have to do it, if you don’t feel like it… we could watch the Taylor Swift’s documentary…’.

‘I do prefer getting pegged than having to watch that movie’ he got a pillow in his face for that ‘… but I am sure, although… as I have said, I say ‘Lover’ and you stop whatever you are doing, understood?’.

‘Of course’ you muttered, swearing it onto your heart as Ivar sent you a little amused look.

‘… and I say that because I know that you love my ass and are secretly obsessed with it’.

You blushed at the truth of that affirmation, since you had the time of your life groping Ivar’s juicy ass whenever he was near you, something that made him quite annoyed, although he secretly loved the physical contact.

‘… I won’t get obsessed with your ass’ you mumbled ‘… although I won’t promise anything about not biting it, it is so juicy!’.

‘You can. Just if I get to do the same on yours, tomorrow morning’.

‘Deal’.

And then you carefully started to get him ready, having done some of your researches on the act and you didn’t start immediately but tried to instead gently calm Ivar’s body, although the post-glow of the climax made your boyfriend completely tame under your touch.

But again, your hands were careful and soft teasing him, as you started touching the most erogenous zone that weren’t his hardness.

And then you reached him where you wanted him, softly staring at Ivar as you swiftly moved up to get the small lube bottle, quickly darting for the bathroom to clean your hands and clean Ivar’s thigh from the massage oil that was starting to become solely sticky.

And then you spread a bit of lube on the tip of your fingers, being gentle in your exploration and voicing properly each thing you’d do to him, as your hands at first tugged his member, then lightly moving down his sack, reached the small hole which you circled softly with your thumb, getting the muscles there to loosen and used to the sensation.

And when you felt him relaxed, you gently dipped a finger in.

"Does it hurt? Tell me to stop if it hurts” you told him, as you raised your eyes to meet his face in search of any trace of discomfort, seeing that Ivar was biting onto his lips almost desperately, enough that you were sure he’d hurt himself, but he shook his head, and you let your finger dip further “… is it uncomfortable?”.

“… a bit” he commented, breathing hazily, as you gently tried to calm him with a few tugs on his cock “… but it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought”.

“… always thinking the worst, babe” you laughed lightly, as he smirked at you, pushing himself up for a kiss, and you allowed him, meanwhile your finger prodded further and after another round of lube, another one was inserted beside the first finger.

Ivar moaned loudly and you almost thought he was in pain, but his hips pushed down onto you as his own hole tightened around your fingers, making you smirk.

You tried to scissor him open, prepping him carefully for what would be coming next, in an agonizing foreplay that got Ivar feverish and when you were halfway through a third finger, he had almost spent another load of his seed onto the bed sheets, desperately begging you to simply ‘fuck him’.

Gosh, hadn’t Ivar been against it after this, you would have loved to see him doing the same thing all over again.

Him begging you with those icy eyes was something that made you fell damnably powerful.

“Ok ok, sweetheart” you relented, as he whined loudly when you retreated your fingers form inside of himself, meanwhile the man bucked right against your thighs, searching for any kind of friction, but you pushed him back on the bed “… won’t you wait like a good boy for me?”.

That seemed to calm him down as you saw again that submissive streak in his eyes.

As you put on your strap-on, it almost seemed a show, the way you tightened almost awkwardly the straps around your legs, trying to adjust them carefully, almost making Ivar laugh as you tripped on the harness.

Ivar sent you a playful look as you lowered yourself on bed, letting him feel the toy, against him, as you moved down his body, to get him adjusted to the feeling, to see if it made him feel uncomfortable, but Ivar looked like he just itched to feel it in himself.

“… are you ready?” you asked, as you gently teased his opening with the tip of the dildo, having dipped it in lube, making a show of spreading it around your own plastic cock, something that had gotten a an hungry look from your boyfriend.

“Yes” he muttered “… if I have to wait longer, I’ll fucking burst”.

You smirked at his impatience, and dropped down for another soft kiss, before you pushed in attentively watching Ivar’s face and although it scrunched down in pain, Ivar didn’t tell you anything, even as you checked in, reassuring you that it was fine.

And you started gently to push more inside, till half of the length was inside, and then bottoming out, as Ivar instead gripped you from inside, his left hand going to your own, as they joined above his head getting you to push yourself down, enough for Ivar to have your breasts in front of him, quickly sucking one nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth.

And soon you lost the rhythm of your hips, as you pushed yourself in and out of Ivar, the man underneath of you, thrusting his cock up in the air, brushing sometimes against the leather of the harness, eventually getting him to spill on it, as he clenched on your toy.

He gripped you tightly, when the fateful moment happened, screwing his eyes shut, as he bit down on your nipple and hadn’t you been feeling quite the hot haze of the whole situation, you were sure that you’d have undoubtedly felt pain, since his grip was tight.

But so was your clenched center, wet enough that you were sure you had drenched the sheets underneath you.

Ivar certainly had dirtied them, but as you exited him, he brought you to fall on him, wanting desperately your nearness, although there was quite so much to do, since you were both drenched in massage oil, sweat and lube a mixture that could be quite smelly, alongside needing to change your sheets.

But Ivar needed you.

And after such a tough session, you couldn’t deny him anything, till he slowly came back to you a light embarrassed laugh on his mouth, as he noticed his situation, suggesting a quick bath for you both, almost raising himself to start it.

But you pushed him back, telling him to let you do something for him, after what he had done for you tonight.

And he looked at you almost like a lost puppy, unused to somebody caring for him in such an intimate way, so he didn’t say anything and half an hour later of him slowly coming down from his head-state, you were immersed in your bathtub, as Ivar gently held your waist and leaned on your back.

"Did you like it?" you couldn’t stop yourself from asking him, since, although he had seemed to enjoy it in the moment, he was now blushy and soft, definitely a bit ashamed of himself, and you wanted to know what and how to reassure him.

"Would you judge me if I said I did?" he replied, glad not to have to face you and you allowed that, although you reached out for his hand, to let him know that the words that exited your mind were the truth.

“… not in the slightest” you commented, softly kissing one of his strong arms “… I couldn’t in the slightest, when you looked so fucking exciting”.

Your core still throbbed at that, and Ivar noticed it with the way you shifted in his lap.

“Oh, did I?” and his fingers moved underneath you “… because maybe I also found you hot as hell”.

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aanotheruniverse · 4 years ago

Text

Something close to my heart I wrote a few years ago

THE SUICIDE CLINIC

CIARAN HARDIE

The Waiting Room Nobody made eye contact at the Suicide Clinic. Everybody knew why you were there. If you are about to kill yourself, small talk is not really a high priority. As George craned his neck to take in the high ceiling, he was reminded of the similarly high ceilings in airports, and the Suicide Clinic is a sort of an airport - a temporary drop-off point between life and death. The Clinics all looked the same inside: spacious, fashionably modern, with wide white corridors, littered with suicide prevention signs and pretentiously artistic glass panels. They were the type of place where the floor squeaks as you drag your feet across it. To George's left side was a black man, in his fifties, whose short hair had started to turn white. Chancing a glance at him, George couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him, and how his life had brought him to this moment. On his left, was an elderly woman clutching a kitsch pink handbag. A man sat in the corner of the room, dressed like a rocker, had his head firmly in his hands. Amidst the waiting room, George felt his individuality and personality slip away; he was just another face in the crowd. He felt, and not just in this moment alone, merely an observant to the world, and not a participant. He was simply being. Nothing happens after death, it’s all just biology and chemistry. Life, George thought, my life, maybe life itself is wholly insignificant objectively, so he had stopped bothering to try to add any subjective meaning to his life either. Although everything is, eventually it will not be, so why bother? Before Emma had taken her own life, George had never really given suicide and the means of suicide much thought, which can be cited as a good thing. Carbon monoxide poisoning is pretty painless, and you could even sleep through it, but there’s a bit of a tedious wait. Best to get it over with as quick as possible with something like hanging, but that’s a tad dark and unpleasant. Suicide bombing would be quick, but George didn’t know the first thing about improvising an explosive. Lethal injection lacks the sex appeal of exploding, or setting yourself on fire, or whatever, and a pill overdose would be too painful. At the Clinics, they provide you with the most sought-after method of suicide - although a difficult commodity to come by in England - a handgun. You would think the handgun would be the ultimate solution to a quick and easy suicide, but all sorts can go wrong. People attempt to shoot themselves from funny angles and often, they shoot only their ears off, or their nose, or part of their chin, and some even miss entirely. If a non-fatal shot were to be fired, there are medics waiting on site at the Clinic, but there would only be one bullet per gun at a time, so you only had one chance to get it right. If you were to miss, you would have to get a new ticket and wait all over again. Once you were dead, the Body Disposers would come and take care of your remains. Afterwards, the room is tidied spotless for the next person. As the unattractive glare from the overly-polished floor caught George’s eye, he was stuck by the institution’s obsession with cleanliness; would people really care if the room they were coming to die in were a little dirty? When George had collected his ticket (Number #227) from the annoyingly pretty receptionist, she had explained the procedure and he had to fill out a form, savouring the Clinic from any responsibility over your imminent death. They also let you choose what you hear before you die. George had known this in advance and had brought with him a CD of himself and Emma talking. One night, a couple of years ago now, Emma had interrupted one of his recording sessions, and he had accidentally left the tape running for hours, and recorded their conversation. They laughed about it and listened to the tape back after realising. Now that she was dead, and things had changed so severely, it felt like a tape from another universe, a relic of a time that now it is over, felt like it had never really existed in the first place. You also got to choose what image was projected in front of you as you die too, and he had brought a photograph of Emma from when he first met her. First there were designer handbags, then designer babies, and now, you could even design your own death. They didn’t want people to kill themselves, but local authorities couldn’t deal with the amount of blood and carcass painting their streets. Washing out the high street every morning, before the foggy-eyed, grey-faced consumers came to... consume, became somewhat of a chore. First there was the Super Hose, which lived up to its name only in its size, and not in efficiency. A team of Body Disposers would hose down the streets and it would all be drained down the newly introduced sewer system - the Bloodstream. The larger pieces, too big to be collanderised, would be put in the back of a lorry and driven off to an infirmary. Naturally, people revolted. They didn’t like the Super Hose, they didn’t like the strewn organs down their high street, and they especially didn’t like the Body Disposers, with their threatening red jumpsuits. George, who was fairly up to date with current affairs, remembered how it all had started: a research team in Europe had been controversially investigating if suicide-prone individuals would be more likely to commit suicide if the process was facilitated for them. George could no longer recall the results of the experiment, and it had become irrelevant now anyway, as the English government had leapt onto the idea, and implemented Suicide Clinics in every major town to cope with the epidemic. A place you could go to kill yourself, and not make so much of a mess for everybody left here still existing once you were gone. 24/7, 365, a place to die. Everywhere had a McDonald’s and a Suicide Clinic. It was supply and demand. People still threw themselves off buildings, however. Some people just refuse to conform to committing in the way they are “supposed” to commit. Drowning maintained a popular alternative too, and it handily came without the dreaded stigma of pavement bombing. There was one case, George remembered, in the news, where one lake was deemed such a spot of idyllic beauty that it had to be dredged due to the sheer number of bodies in it. Of course, the biggest concern to the authorities was simply why were so many people suddenly killing themselves? What had happened in order to make suicide rates increase tenfold? Even now, nobody really knows. As George’s mind wandered the history of the Clinics, he ran in to the question that had driven him in to one of them. Why, like all the other hundreds of thousands of people, had Emma killed herself? She was the one who had handled the break-up; she was the one who’d carried on with her life and her degree and seemed unchanged by things. George was the one who had been made redundant; the one who begged for her back; the one whose life had shrivelled up to being no more than an exercise of misery. Yet two weeks ago to the day, George had received the news: Emma, like all the others, had walked in to a Suicide Clinic, collected her ticket, waited her turn, and ended her life. 14 days of looking for answers had driven George to do the same. Still, in this waiting room, as he anticipated his death, George couldn’t help but wonder why? TPs (Technological People) - “Robots” had been deemed a derogatory term - had certainly had something to do with the other suicides. If there was a TP that could do your job, within a few weeks, you would be out of work. That’s what had happened to George, who was once a recruitment consultant for the IT industry, but now there was a computer that could do his job better, and for free. Conglomerates totally replaced the working human race with TPs. As you would conduct your life; shopping, eating, working, living, you were no longer greeted by human faces, but by metallic, dead-eyed, machines. Technology had sucked all the life out of the world, and days and weeks could go by without seeing another human face. Human social interaction all but died out, and friendship can no longer exist in these conditions, unless it is virtual. George wondered all the time, what is everybody doing? The human race has never been so unproductive. After millennia of rapid evolution in the right direction, we have just ceased. We slowed down, and then we stopped altogether. Nobody is doing anything, they are just existing. Observants, and not participants. That’s the fundamental problem, George thought, people’s lives aren’t worth living anymore, and the people are realising it. Shit, he was realising it after all, and now had come to do the same as all the others. A collective air of nihilism is present at every turning. We are opting out of the game; we just don’t want to play any more. Every day, another lieu of faces at the Clinic, another batch of people who won’t play, if they don’t see the point in playing. The cliches about finding yourself, determining your own happiness, and bringing meaning in to your own life don’t stick anymore, and the futility overwhelms. What’s the fucking point? They want an objective answer to that question. George became aware that he had started breathing heavily, and tried to decelerate his thinking, and calm himself down. He realised he had been clutching his right thigh very hard, and let go. He looked around the room once more; everybody shared the same expression of utter resignation. In the 54th minute since George had collected his ticket (#227), the silence in the room reached a no longer bearable decibel, and his fidgeting could no longer oppress his discomfort. Desperately, George wanted to engage the rest of the room in conversation. He had no idea what he wanted to say to all of these strangers, but the urge was definitely there. Feeling an excruciating sensation rise up in to his chest, George found himself on his feet and then over at the annoyingly pretty ticket- giver’s desk. “Hi”, George spoke, with no idea what he was doing. “Hi”, the ticket-giver looked up at him with an ill-disguised look of animosity. “Er, do you reckon I could, like, wait somewhere else? Is there like a private waiting room?” “Does there seem to be a problem with this waiting room?” “No, it’s not that, it’s just, I feel, uncomfortable waiting around with all these strangers”. “Sir, I can assure you that everybody feels the same. Please take your seat”. “Okay, well that doesn’t make anybody feel any better”. “Sir, please take your seat and wait for your number to be called”. George opened his mouth to respond, but found himself heading back to his seat. Across the room, sitting with her legs crossed, was Emma. George blinked in incredulity, but she was still there. She gave him a flirtatious wave. George got to his feet and tentatively walked across the room. “Yes?”, said the girl, and after a beat, “Can I help you?” “No. Sorry. I just thought you were someone else.” Back in his seat, George mentally kicked himself for being so stupid. She’s dead, he told himself, she’s dead. “Seeing me everywhere are you, George?”, Emma’s voice hit his ears, “Can’t get me out of your head?” The black man was no longer sitting to the left of George. Instead, Emma was there, with her perfect legs and tangled brown mane of hair. Laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, George replied, “Can’t get you out of my head? Well that’s why I’m here isn’t it?” “What if it doesn’t work though?”, said Emma, as if the idea gave her great pleasure, “What if after you kill yourself there’s some sort of afterlife based on your living psychology? What if your eternity is me?” “Then I’ll have to find a a way to kill myself again”. “You can only kill yourself once, silly”. “Oh I know, it’s a grand shame, I would have done it loads by now, if I could. I’d wake up every morning any kill myself” “So dramatic”. Even a hallucinatory image of Emma could still get right under George’s skin. “You always call me dramatic, when you’re the one that’s dramatic” “You’re the one who’s speaking to a dead girl”. Anger swelled in George but before he could release a venomous retort, Emma was gone, and the black man was back in her place. “Okay, number 227, you’re up next”, the ticket-giver’s announcement brought George back to reality. “If you’d like to follow me”. Checking his ticket, George got to his feet yet again and followed her out of the waiting room and down a narrow, white corridor. The gravity of the situation hit George at once, and he felt the need to gag. When they reached the menacing black door, George stifled his queasiness. George resented himself for not wanting to embarrass himself in front of the ticket-giver. “Everything in the room will be exactly as you’ve been told”, she said, “The sound will already be playing, and when you enter the room, the image you’ve chosen will be projected in front of you. The gun is on a platform right in the centre of the room, you can’t miss it”. She held the black door open for him, and George entered the last room he would ever enter. The door closed behind him, and he was left alone. The CD of George and Emma was already playing over the sound system, and his stomach continued to churn unpleasantly. But, there was no image being projected. Rather, Emma herself was standing in front of George, looking as she had in the photo George had chosen. Her school uniform brought out her immaturity, and George felt a twinge as this is how she had looked when he had first fallen in love with her. “Of course you chose to have an image of me where I’m in my school uniform. You’re such a perv”, she said, purposefully emphasising her disdain. “This is how you looked when I first met you”. “Yeah, before you knew me. Before you knew you couldn’t control me, and I wasn’t really just a little girl. You put me in this uniform because you want to keep up the charade of me loving you and you controlling me”. How could she still be torturing me, George thought. Even now, after she’s gone, she’s still hellbent on torturing me. “It wasn’t a charade”, George replied, flatly. “I didn’t love you, George. I never did. I was young, I didn’t know”. “That doesn’t mean anything. You still loved me”. He was yelling already; George was always quick to yell at her, as she had liked to point out when she was still alive. “No I didn’t, George”. At times like these, George didn’t know if he loved her or hated her. Clearly, the more obvious feeling was hate, and every single word she said was like a personal calculated insult to him. And yet, he was so willing to get her to submit to him and admit that she loved him. “I wish I could still kill you. I wish you weren’t dead, purely for that reason. I want to bring you back to life just to choke you with my bare fucking hands”. “Well, I’m here. And hey, you don’t even need to use your hands. There’s a gun”. George was totally disoriented, and things had stopped making sense altogether... maybe he was already dead. He didn’t know, but with immense satisfaction, he picked up with gun and pulled the trigger. It was a perfect shot, hitting her square in the temple, and blood that was so dark it was more black than red, began to gush from the wound. She stayed standing. “What the fuck?” George looked around and hit himself in the face, trying to put a stop to the insanity, “Why aren’t you dead?” “George, silly, you think that’s going to kill me. This isn’t what it looks like; you’re still in the waiting room”. The walls around George warped and blurred until he realised he was in fact, still sitting in his chair in the waiting room. Emma was now sitting in the ticket-giver’s chair behind the desk, and she teased George from across the room, “Think you’re going crazy, George? Think you’re losing it yet?” “I have nothing to lose”, he muttered. “Seriously! All the fucking drama all the fucking time!” She seemed to be completely unaware of the fact that she was provoking him. “Shut the fuck up”. He had to end it, and a force comparable to nothing he had felt before flung him to his feet and he made his way over to the desk. He was going to hit her... he was going to hit her so fucking hard... And she vanished again, out of thin air, leaving George trembling on his feet in the middle of the waiting room. Knowing her next move, he turned around and as he expected, saw her sitting in his chair, looking very casual, and very, very happy. She reached into her pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. “You can’t smoke in here”. Now, standing outside of the Clinic, each puffing on a cigarette, George racked his brain once more for answers. “You didn’t get this done, I don’t believe you. I know there’s something else going on here; this type of shit wouldn’t make sense to you”. “Because you know me so well?” God, why can’t she just turn it off for one second, George thought to himself. “Okay, maybe you’re right, maybe I don’t know you at all. I think that sometimes, that I just had it wrong the whole time. That we were so close and yet at the same time, we really didn’t know each other at all. But we spent 4 years together, Emma, I know for a fact that you did not kill yourself. You wouldn’t go to once of these places”. He was certain of it. “But you would, I know that. You have, after all”. “Only because you did”. “But you just said I didn’t do it!” “Okay, only because you allegedly did it!” “That’s not fun. You’re just gunna give up? You’re not gunna figure it out?” “I can’t figure you out”. “Draaaaaaamaaaaa”. A sigh escaped George. “Come on, George, if I killed myself, I wouldn’t have used this place. I would have just done it, you know, jumped off a bridge or slit my fucking wrists or something. I wouldn’t have come and sat in a queue and all this shit. Come on, you know I wouldn’t have done that”. “I don’t know why I’m here”. This was the truest thing George had said in recent memory. “You would’ve ended up at this place, whether you thought I had or not. This is so George; it’s got your name written all over it. You were always gonna kill yourself.” “I dunno. I guess, although everything is, eventually it will not be... So why bother?” “Come on, George, think. What happened to me?” George furrowed his brow, and concentrated. He visualised Emma, and his memories of Emma, trying to remember every moment they had shared together, in the hope of something somewhere igniting an epiphany. He remembered walking down his old suburban street with her, hand in hand. She would always instinctively take his hand, and not taking her hand would always cue an argument. He remembered how when she had so suddenly fallen out of love with him, how she had flinched when he had tried to touch her. He longed for the days when she would take his hand, without him having to take hers. Deeper memories... he remembered hugging her late one night down the high street after a comment from a tramp had made her cry. How something so stupid like a comment from a tramp could have shattered her, and made her need him. How truly fragile she had been underneath her tough demeanour. He remembered the smell of her hair, the smooth of her legs, and then, he remembered the sensation of her legs pressed against his head, and his tongue inside her vagina. He remembered how she would wither and moan, and clutch at the bedsheets. Was any of it real? Everything is so brief. Everything feels like it wasn’t true, like it was just a delusion, George thought. To him, everything just felt like some fucked up chemical imbalance in his brain. Too many drugs. Too much TV. But her, such a pretty, perfect thing. She had to have been real, the only real thing in a sea of distortion. Although everything is, eventually it will not be... George jolted in his chair in the waiting room. Emma was gone. The elderly woman sitting to George’s right turned to him, and said, “Were you thinking about eating out my pussy?” “What?!” George said, flabbergasted. It took a moment for Emma to take the place of the elderly woman. “I said were you thinking about eating my pussy? You were, weren’t you? Your lip quivers when you think about cunnilingus, George. I’m dead, you know, isn’t that a bit necrophilic?” “You’re not fucking dead!”, George yelled at the top of his lungs, and as he did, all the lights in the Clinic abruptly turned off, and all the people around George and Emma became immobile. Emma erupted in to tears and teared towards the door to the corridor. He couldn’t let her get away, she had to answer for this, so he pelted after her down the long, white corridor, calling after her. “Emma, wait! Emma! Emma! Come back!” She was impossibly quick, quicker than Emma had really been, quicker than anyone had ever been. George reached another door which had no handle, and began banging on it. “Emma, let me in! Emma, let me in, let me in now!” Emma called back from the other side of the door, her voice thick with authentic terror, “Leave me alone! I’m scared.” “I’m nothing to be fucking scared of Emma!” She had always said she was scared. Knowing she wouldn’t submit to persuasion alone at the time being, George kicked down the door which came off with surprising ease. George found himself in his flat kitchen, just as he had left it this morning before heading out. Emma was darting across the flat towards the front door, but he managed to catch up and grab her arm as she tried to negotiate her way around the furniture. “LET GO OF ME!” she squealed, still crying. “Emma, wait!”, there was tremendous force in George’s voice, “Listen to me”. “You’re fucking hurting me, George”. “How could you do that to me?!”, he screamed square in to her face, “How could you fuck those other guys! You’re fucking evil!” “Then let me go! Let me go, George, now!” Without thinking, he punched her and she fell to the floor. She was still fighting back, and with all his strength, he restrained her and, still without thinking, began to strangle her. She gasped and clawed at his face with her nails, but he wasn’t to be stopped. She pressed her thumbs in to his eye sockets, momentarily blinding him, and when he regained his vision, he was back in the waiting room. The lights were still off, the people around were still all in a dead sleep, and Emma was still in the place of the elderly woman. “Oooh, maybe that’s what happened!”, she said with tantalising excitement, “Maybe you killed me! What if you’re crazy? Like, like actually crazy. What if you killed me and you don’t even remember killing me?” “Emma, shut up. This is serious”. “What? Is it not dramatic enough for you?” The anger George had felt had climaxed with the sensation of asphyxiating her, and now he felt nothing but sad. “Were you scared of me, Emma?”, he asked. “Yes”. “Why?” “You’re obsessive, George. It’s too much. It’s scary”. The words instantly drew tears out of George’s eyes, and he wept. “Don’t you care that you hurt me?” Emma exhaled, and sounded more serious than she was normally capable of being. “You stole my childhood, George. You scandalised me”. “What fucking good is a childhood anyway! Hey! Who wants one!”, the notion of a spoilt childhood brought back George’s anger as if it hadn’t gone anywhere. She looked back at him with the same repulse that he recalled vividly from their last ever encounter. She spoke the same words, “I’m gonna go now”. George clutched her shoulder and searched her eyes for the person he once knew. “No, please, please don’t go Emma, not again. Don’t make me do this, please, please don’t leave me”. “See you on the other side, George” “NOOOO!” She had evaporated. The lights to the Clinic turned back on, and the people around came back to life. But George was really screaming this time, and the people around him jumped back in their seats. He wasn’t able to get out any words, he was just wailing at the top of his lungs. The ticket-giver instantly dashed out of her seat and over to George. “Sir, please, calm down, sir, sir, please, if you’d like to come with me”. “Fuck off!”, George mustered and threw his shoulder away from her as she tried to touch it. Two especially muscly Body Disposers with vacant faces barged in to the waiting area and each grabbed one of George’s arms. George was taken aback by their strength, and started flailing his legs around. The people in the waiting room looked in horror as George shouted, “No! This is wrong! This is all wrong!” The Body Disposers dragged George out of the waiting room, down the white corridor, and through yet another door. This time they had entered a much smaller room than any of the others, and the walls all matched the red of the Disposer’s ghastly jumpsuits. Before George could react, one of the Body Disposers was injecting him with a foul-smelling blue liquid. “What the fuck is that?!” George exclaimed. Nobody responded. After he had been injected, the Body Disposers softened their grip on him and he was able to break free, push the ticketgiver out of the way, and he flung open the door and began sprinting for the waiting room. The Disposers and the ticket-giver gave chase, and his feet slipped on the squeaky corridor floor. George felt as though his legs were filling up with concrete, and movement became an increasing struggle. His back hunched and he felt as though something invisible was pulling him down to the floor. Still, he pushed on and reached the waiting room door, and without a second of conscious-decision making, flung himself at the black man’s feet. “Don’t kill yourself. Please. Please, don’t kill yourself”. A few people jumped to their feet, and even the rocker with his head in his hands looked up at the commotion. The man looked back at him as if George had just asked for his hand in marriage. The concrete sensation as now filling his entire body, and he felt like an anchor was forcing him through the ground. “DON’T KILL YOURSELVES”, George screamed at the rest of the waiting room, and before the Body Disposers grabbed him again, he fell to the floor, unconscious.

#writing #prose #suicide #depression #heartbreak #literature #publishers

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uniformbravo · 3 years ago

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having a full on existential crisis over an episode of anime i watched tonight

it all started with big time rush

in 2009 a sitcom called big time rush aired for the first time on nickelodeon; it was about a group of four teenaged boys from minnesota who move to hollywood under a famous producer to become his next big boy band sensation. a simple premise, launched into unprecedented success, resulting in four seasons of musical shenanigans, three full music albums, and three big concert tours, including international shows. the band, both fictional and real life, featured four attractive young men by the names of kendall, james, carlos, and logan. they quickly gained a fan base of mostly teenage girls, which resulted in online spaces created for the purpose of sharing their passion, and as is common in such online communities, this certainly involved fanfiction- lots of it.

enter me, a teen in high school who loved to write fanfiction. my big time journey began the day my younger sister decided to put on the show big time rush in the living room, where i sat at the family computer typing away. the noise caught my attention, and i got sucked into the episode. there was a boy wearing a dress on the screen. i became interested.

i watched more of the show. i typed its name into the search bar on the website fanfiction dot net. i had a friend at school who shared my interest in fanfiction, particularly of the slash variety. i introduced her to this new show i had been watching. she shared a fanfic she had enjoyed immensely with me. we dragged each other into the world of big time rush fanfiction reading and writing.

it took over my life; i lived and breathed big time rush. i began posting my own stories to fanfiction dot net. i received positive feedback; i met people. i made friends- two people in particular who became very close friends. we communicated through ffn’s private messaging system, then through email. we talked every day, we wrote stories for and with each other, we exchanged phone numbers. it was one of these friends who introduced me to the website called tumblr, where fellow fans of our beloved big time rush gathered and talked about it- a community.

it was a slow start- this website was new and unfamiliar to me- but eventually i got the hang of things and settled into my niche. i had fun, gained followers, met even more people. tumblr was a place not only for sharing one singular interest, but for accumulating all of your various interests and celebrating them in one place. it was through this aspect that i first learned of the up and coming band known as one direction.

they had released their first smash hit single and everyone was talking about it. i was wary, far too loyal to my beloved big time rush- but eventually i started to feel left out and in an effort to feel included, i decided to take the plunge and see what this “1d” was all about. it was intimidating, though- there was so much information, and no apparent beginner’s guide to tell me where to start. this drove me to making a post calling for a “one direction buddy” to take this role, to introduce me to all the most important aspects of this band. and my call was answered.

enter my wonderful friend cam, a follower of mine at the time. they were into both big time rush and one direction and were eager to provide me with all the information needed to get into 1d. while ultimately this venture didn’t amount to anything, as i lost interest in becoming a fan, my friendship with cam persisted and we grew very close. even as time went on and big time rush faded into the background to be replaced with newer, fresher interests, and our paths as fellow fandom members split, we kept in contact and remained friends. years and years of fandoms, years and years of friendship.

in the midst of the tenth year, cam developed a new interest, in a sport called ice hockey. as is tradition, they shared their passion with me, showing me their favorite team, highlighting their favorite members. we watched a game together. personally, i’ve never been one for sports, but i am quite into anime, which consists of many genres, including the “sports” genre. one in particular that i’ve enjoyed immensely in the past is the volleyball anime, haikyuu!!. this anime devotes a lot of time to explaining and depicting the sport in a way that makes it easy for any viewer to understand the rules and inner workings of volleyball. it’s exciting. it’s the first time i’ve ever even adjacently been invested in a sport. one could even call it a gateway into the world of sports.

all this to say, when i watched that game of ice hockey with cam, the same parts of my brain that loved haikyuu!! lit up and in a classic display of my specific brand of interest, i found myself yearning for the epic highs and lows of ice hockey, but in an animated format. an animated format originating in japan. a japanese animation. an anime. my curiosity burned a hole in my brain that resulted in a combination of the google search bar and the words, “hockey anime”.

to my disappointment, i found nothing- at least, not to the degree i was hoping. there is an upcoming anime, slated to air in the fall 2021 anime season, about a group of girls who form an ice hockey team together- as it is an original project rather than an adaptation, it remains to be seen whether the anime will fall into the category of “sports anime,” or if indeed it will lean much more closely to the “moe” genre. the latter is not what i had in mind during that particular search.

adding the anime called “pride of orange” to my “plan to watch” list on myanimelist dot com, i moved onto the next result: an article about an early 2010’s anime i had never heard of before. while not about the sport i was looking for, it featured a character whose signature weapon was a field hockey stick. it wasn’t even the right sport. it was a weak, insignificant link, but all was not lost.

i happen to have an affinity for watching anime i happen upon completely by random and know little to nothing about; i found the movie “anthem of the heart” purely coincidentally, when i searched the name “jun” as part of some research for one of my original characters and discovered that it was the main character of said movie, which i then watched and ended up enjoying quite a lot. another time, when i was at best buy one day i happened upon a dvd on their dedicated anime shelf for a movie called “hana and alice”, which i had never heard of before. i liked the box art, so i took a picture of it to remember the title and watched it on my own later that week; it became one of my favorite movies.

with these and other similar experiences in mind, i saved the anime in my “plan to watch” list, and, later that same week, began my watch of “sket dance.”

it’s a school comedy anime, one of my favorite genres, so it’s no surprise that after overcoming the initial skepticism i carry into every new show i watch it quickly became my new fixation. not an obsession, but something i was pleasantly surprised to find consistently enjoyable. the characters are fun, the humor is tight and fresh, and the stories are unexpectedly touching at the right moments. everything i like to see.

which brings us to tonight. the culmination of this ten plus year string of events and occurrences. getting into big time rush. joining tumblr. meeting cam. watching anime. searching for hockey anime.

i put down my apple(TM) pencil. i set my ipad aside. i downsized the ebook window i’d been referencing. i stretched; i was hungry and tired. i’d been rereading passages of various animorphs books all day. i needed a break. i needed to sit back with some food and an episode of my latest comfort watch, sket dance. it’d be nice to set the dramatic, tragic world of animorphs aside for something lighthearted and fun in its place.

well.

i sat down with my bowl of strawberries and played the episode. it finished. i watched another. this one broke the formula a bit, played with the art style. i was into it. the preview for the next episode was mysteriously blank, and short, stating only the title. it was intriguing. i’m down for the show to get a bit more serious for an episode, i thought. i’m down for some potential backstory for one of the main three. i’m ready.

i was not ready.

bruh.

b r u h .

next two episodes proceeded to take me out back and beat me to within an inch of my life, slowly at first and then all at once. barely made it out alive. questioning everything. how can a show, so silly and goofy, do that, to me. how could i let my guard down like that. how could i be so tricked, and deceived, and blindsided like this. i don’t know who to trust. i don’t know if i can trust again. whiplash so damaging, permanent. i thought i wanted answers. i thought i wanted to know backstory. i didn’t want this. i never wanted this. emptiness

how did it come to this, these twelve years of my life. had i known back then, would i have posted that fanfiction? would i have joined tumblr? would i have sook out a “one direction buddy”? a hollow husk of a person, i am left with only my thoughts to ponder this small history of mine. the things i could have done differently. the things others could have done differently. all these butterfly effect moments, adding up to what? culminating in what? it’s 2:26 am and i’m writing an essay on how shook i am over that episode instead of going to sleep. but i can’t just say nothing, you know? i need to put something out there, reach deep enough within myself to find the thing that’s still there, broken and huddled and tiny as it is. i need to feel some semblance of the self again. the me from before i watched this episode. the innocent version of myself, blissful in ignorance. it’s too late now.

that episode…………..was fucked up. that was seriously fucked up. im not okay bro they really just came in left field and slapped that in my face expecting me to get up and walk away just fine afterwards like No that isn’t how this Works y’all need to bundle some therapy sessions with ur episodes pullin that shit come ON

exhaustion is taking over the shock, i am simply tired now. i will fall asleep and when i wake up sket dance will be a happy fun show again with NO fucked up backstories ever Or Else. i’m fucking serious right now i’m gonna count to 3 and that shit better be retconned when i turn around,

screams

thank you

#tldr sket dance has some really fucked up shit in it & i wasn’t expecting it & im having a crisis #it was supposed to be funnie clown show not ouchie oof show #how did it end up like this #fuck. christ. what the fuck #retag later #ani blogging #me watchin this show: yea this is fun like idk if i see myself getting /invested/ invested but i’m enjoying myself nonetheless!#gets to That Episode: …../oh./ oh i /see./ we’re doing That Shit huh #*sound of me getting /invested/ invested*#just a neat lil show about funy jokes :)#wheeeeeeee

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hystericalweenie · 5 years ago

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Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Seven: Confessions

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Also, thank you to all the anons that sent in ideas! They were so helpful! I can’t figure out how to screenshot them and put them in here :( but y’all know who u are <3

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some extreme smut y’all... NSFW content, continue at your own risk

“What are you doing here?”

My arms were crossed and my eyebrows looking angry. A confused expression painted his face, telling me that he wasn’t sure why I was upset.

“You weren’t answering my texts, I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he confessed, his eyes softening in embarrassment.

“Oh.” I looked down at the floor, not sure what to say.

He brought his hand to the nape of his neck, scratching awkwardly.

“I, uhm, I’ll leave,” he announced.

No.

“I saw you and Faith at that restaurant down the street,” I blurted, my words jumbling together quickly in anxiousness and fear that he’d leave.

“Oh.” He dragged out the “o” vowel, accentuating the word, making me more nervous.

I held myself back from bringing my fingers up to my mouth and gnawing on my nails, not wanting to show him how anxious he’d truly been making me.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend,” he confessed.

What?!.

I think my expression was able to display the emotions I was feeling, considering I could feel the color drain from my face in shock and that familiar nervous knot in my stomach made me feel like I could bend over and retch all over his shoes.

“No,” he began, putting his hands up defensively. “Not like that; we broke up, because she’s gay, Y/n.”

My eyebrows angrily furrowed as my confusion heightened and I wasn’t able to form words.

“Huh?” I was able to muster, given the situation I’d just been informed of.

He chuckled lightly, bringing his index finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, looking down for a moment as if he was searching for the right words to say.

“Remember when I told you about my last relationship? That things just didn’t work out?” He used his hands to gesture as he attempted to explain the situation to me.

I nodded, recollecting the memories from my sofa.

“Your last relationship was in college?”

I gulped. Did I let that detail slip?

“Yeah,” I began, scratching the back of my neck. “I haven’t really had the time for a relationship since I started working full-time.”

I hoped he wouldn’t be able to tell that I was lying. I prayed that my inevitable blushed cheeks wouldn’t turn scarlet. I begged that he wouldn’t think I was weird for not having been in a relationship for so long.

“How long has it been, then?”

I chewed my lip. Fuck. I felt like Bree had asked me the same question just yesterday, except in a different context, of course. Though, my answer remained the same.

“Two years,” I cringed at my own answer, before gesturing my hand out to him. “How about you?”

“Almost a year,” he admitted with a shrug. “Only lasted a few months, things just didn’t work out.”

“Well, I wasn't receiving much from her side of the relationship, figured she just wasn’t into me,” he used his hands to gesture again, staring into my eyes as he explained himself. “Well, that’s how the relationship ended. But, she told me a few months ago that it had nothing to do with me; she’s gay, she’s been gay, she just wasn’t in a place where she felt comfortable to come out until then. Since then, her and I have been friends and sometimes she’d hang out with Dean and Andrew, as well. Yesterday, she came with us to visit Andrew in rehab. We went for lunch afterwards, which is when you saw us.”

I froze at the explanation, realizing how dramatic I was being and how much I’d overreacted without letting him explain himself first. I groaned, bringing my palms to my face.

“God, I feel like such an idiot!” I exclaimed, my voice muffled against my hands.

He grabbed my hands, gently bringing them to my sides as his amused expression stared back at my exposed face.

“You were jealous, huh?” He chided, smirking down at me.

I rolled my eyes as I felt my cheeks redden.

“Love, you have nothing to be jealous about,” he brought his hand to caress my face, pressing his lips to my forehead. “Although, I find it adorable.”

I tried not to melt right there, my cheek in his hand as I looked up at him, admiring the way his locks sat perfectly on his head and his pink, plump lips were curled in a lazy smile. His eyes were soft, blue abyss staring down at me lovingly, whilst I attempted not to get lost in them.

I brought my face to his, my lips brushing softly against his own. I knew I could have tried, but I was in too deep. The taste of his lips brought me peace, the scent of him brought me serenity and eased all of the anxiety I’d been previously experiencing. There was no way in hell I would’ve been able to just let him slip through my fingers; I wouldn't allow it.

That week had gone by fast, much more quickly than I would have liked. George’s birthday was on Friday, and I had no idea if it was expected of me to get him something or not. Hell, I wasn't sure if he’d wanted to spend his day with me.

Nonetheless, I woke up extra early, so that I’d have time to do my hair in waves and put a little more effort into my makeup than normal. I wore a sexy black pencil skirt, knowing that he loved that way it hugged my figure. I paired it with a blouse, showing enough cleavage that I knew would drive him crazy. I finalized the look with a pair of heels, making my exposed legs appear longer. Satisfied and giddy, I rushed out of the apartment with endless thoughts of his reaction.

Grinning as I greeted the receptionist and getting into the elevator, chewing anxiously on my lip, I awaited my floor. Once the doors slid open, I made my way to my desk, my legs carrying me with a confident stride. Dean’s eyes lingered on me over his computer, as I sat myself down in my chair.

“Hi, Dean,” I spoke to him, leaning my head away from my computer to meet his eyes.

I noticed a faint blush on his cheeks, his eyes peeling from his screen to look at me.

“Morning Y/n,” he began, clearing his throat. “You look lovely today, by the way. Not that you don’t look good any other day, bu–”

“Thank you, Dean,” I interrupted him, grinning at the adorable brunette.

I kept to myself, working silently until my nerves took over me. My heels were tapping nervously on the ground, wondering what his reaction would be like. I fantasized about his fingers wandering up my legs, grasping my bum with his large palms. I could feel the wet patch in my panties beginning to form at the thoughts, finally getting up from my seat and marching toward the elevator. Pressing the button as the doors closed behind me, I flattened my skirt and tousled my hair, hoping to perfect my appearance during this intermission.

The doors slid open, revealing a figure in a button up and slacks.

It was him.

I gulped, grabbing his collar and pulling him into the elevator with me, pressing the closing door button along with a bunch of random floor buttons, truly not caring about anything else but him. His lips attached to mine in an instant, his hands resting on the small of my back before lowering to my bum, squeezing my ass, causing a moan to escape my lips. Our tongues fought for dominance, my fingers wrapping around his neck and pulling at his hair eagerly.

“I can’t take you here in the elevator, love,” he complained, his voice raspy with lust and his minty breath hitting me before attaching back onto my lips again.

The doors opened, causing us to quickly peel away from each other as someone entered the elevator. We exchanged glances, eyes wide at the intruder. They reached over, pressing their desired floor before pulling their phone out and entertaining themselves with the tiny device momentarily. The multiple lit up buttons flashed back at me, reminding me that I’d pressed buttons at random. The next floor that the elevator stopped at, George and I piled out quickly, laughing at the awkward situation. We found the stairs, opening the door to the abandoned, dimly lit flights of narrow stairs. He grasped my face with his palms, bringing me back to his lips.

This time, our lips moved with less eagerness, instead at a slow pace, our tongues less involved. He pulled away, finalizing our kiss with a peck.

“Happy birthday,” I sighed blissfully, my lips swollen.

He bit his lip, bringing my face toward him again to peck my lips once more, resting his forehead against my own.

“Best birthday ever,” he admitted. “Thank you, my love.”

His thumbs stroked my cheekbones before he pulled away, grasping my hand as we made our way down the stairs. I intertwined our fingers, trying to bite back the giddy smile that threatened to make its way onto my lips. My stomach erupted with butterflies, as our footsteps echoed throughout the abandoned flights of stairs.

“You have any plans today?” I asked, gently swinging our hands.

He shrugged. “I think Dean wants to get drinks somewhere after work, but that’s it.”

I nodded, wondering if he was hinting at making plans. Once we’d reached his floor, he brought the back of my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss before untangling our fingers.

“Text me tonight? We can do something?”

I blushed.

“Of course, George.”

He walked over to me, fixing my hair for me before fiddling with my blouse and skirt, flattening the wrinkled fabric and fixing the disheveled top. He stepped away, scanning me and smiling in satisfaction before pressing a quick kiss on my cheek and opening the door, leaving me a blushing mess. This man was going to be the death of me.

I slipped my heels off, my sore feet carrying me to my bed. I plopped onto my stomach, pulling my phone out.

Me: What do you feel like doing later?

Buzz.

George: Hmm...

George: Wine and movies at mine?

I grinned.

Me: That sounds perfect.

George: Does 8 sound good? Sorry if that’s a little late, Dean and I are going for dinner and drinks right now.

Me: Nope, perfect. Have fun, don’t get plastered ;)

George: I know my limit, love

George: I’m not like you ;)

Me: Omg. That feels like forever ago now, when the hell are you going to live that down?

George: Never.

George: I’ll text you when I get home

Me: Sounds good. See you then, birthday boy!

George: *insert... Is there a birthday emoji?

George: Never mind.. See you, Y/n

I was glad my hair was at least done, it was one less thing for me to do. However, with two hours to spare, I wished that I had something else to do. I fixed my makeup, powdering the spots that’d managed to get shiny throughout the day and reapplying my lip stain. I began picking out an outfit, shoveling through the hangers in my tiny closet. I settled on my usual jeans and flattering top, dressing myself and leaving my bedroom to watch television with Bree, listening to her rant about her day.

After enduring her complaints about her coworkers, I received a text message from George.

George: I’m ready whenever you are

I looked at the time on my phone, realizing it was already past eight o'clock, and I’d lost track of time. I grabbed my purse and rushed out of the apartment, practically jogging to my car. I started the vehicle, hearing it roar to life before making my way to him.

Finally arriving to his building, I texted him, letting him know that I’d arrived before I waited for him to meet me at my car. He walked me inside, leading me to his apartment as I eyed his outfit, which consisted of jeans and a white tee. With such a casual outfit, he managed to make it look so good. We entered his home, the familiar scent of sandalwood and vanilla welcoming me. A bottle of wine and two empty glasses sat on the coffee table in front of his sofa, awaiting my presence. I smiled at the gesture, taking my jacket off and following him to the sofa. He poured the red deliciousness into my glass before pouring himself a glass and bringing it to his lips.

He grabbed the remote controller, starting some random movie and wrapping his arm around me, pulling me into his side as the opening credits rolled. I sighed in content, breathing in his scent as my head lay against his chest, his skin warm through the fabric of his shirt. His fingers traced my arm, drawing shapes and patterns at random whilst his eyes remained concentrated on the screen. The simplicity of this moment, yet the weight of sincerity it held, made my heart ache for him. It was at this moment that I’d realized I was fully emerged in George, there was absolutely no way that I could have turned back, even if I’d wanted to. I longed for him, I needed him.

“George,” I called to him softly, turning my head to look up at him.

His eyes gazed down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. His deep blue eyes bore into mine, awaiting an explanation for the way I called his name, his curly light locks contrasting. His skin looked soft and calm, no angry creases or lines except the concerned ones between his eyebrows. His lips were slightly puckered in a curious pout, slightly stained with wine. I devoured these features, wishing I could look at him forever. But staring at him made me miss the physicality of him, the sweet rhythm of our lips together and the feeling of his hips rolling against mine.

I needed more with him.

I needed him to make love to me. I needed to feel him inside of me, filling me up like his dick was meant to be there. I needed him to stretch me out and fuck me into tomorrow.

I needed this; I needed him.

“Y/n?” he brought his hand to my face, gently stroking my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I need words, love.”

My lips trembled from my thoughts, my core dripping and aching in agony as I devoured his features once more.

“You,” I whimpered, with a gulp. “I need you.”

He bent his face down to me, his hand moving to my chin to lift my own up to meet his lips. He stilled, his lips barely brushing mine.

“You have me, love,” he confessed, his thumb moving to drag across my bottom lip. “Any way you need me; I’m all yours.”

I moved up to my knees in an instant, crashing my lips onto his as my hands went to grasp his face, my lips moving feverishly against his. His lips adapted to my rhythm quickly, tongue slipping between my own. He was quick to grab at my thighs, pulling my legs around his waist before standing up and carrying us to his bedroom, our lips still connected. He waisted no time, kicking his door open with his foot and closing it the same way behind us, gently laying me on the bed. He kicked his shoes off, peeling the fabric of his shirt off of his torso. I did the same with my shirt, revealing my lacy black bra that I’d worn in case he’d end up seeing me in my undergarments. I scooted myself up on the bed as he made his way on top of me, his lips finding their way back to mine.

His lips began trailing down my jaw to my neck, finding my sweet spot and gently sucking. My fingers went to his hair, tugging as breathy sighs left my mouth, the feeling of his mouth nibbling and sucking at the pleasurable spot. Positive that he’d left a bruise, he moved to my chest to repeat the same thing on one of the valleys of my breasts. His locks tickled my face, erupting my senses with the smell of his shampoo. I lifted my body as his fingers slowly wrapped around the band of the bra, going to the back to unclasp it. Successfully moving the bra off of me, his mouth went to latch onto one of my nipples, causing me to moan at the sudden sensation.

The feeling of his tongue lapping at the bud, his hand moving to massage the other breast, was almost enough to drive me over the edge. I could feel the obvious wetness in my panties as my core dripped more and more by the second, my hips bucking for some kind of relief. His mouth left my nipple, moving to the other one and repeating the same actions. My fingers continued to thread through his locks desperately, my hips bucking against his stomach.

His lips released from my nipple with a pop, looking up at me and meeting my y/e/c eyes with his blue ones, looking darker than ever with lust. His eyes continued to gaze into mine as he unbuttoned my jeans. I lifted my hips, helping him slide the fabric off of my legs. He moved himself down, his lips pressing over my clothed core. I moaned aloud, the sudden tease giving me stimulation. I could feel him grin, his fingers hooking around the band of my panties before painfully slowly peeling them off of me. His arms hooked around my thighs, pulling them apart as he gazed at my heat.

“Christ, love, you’re dripping,” he observed in awe.

I watched as his lips pressed to my mound, to each inner thigh, before finally latching to my clit. My jaw went slack as I watched him, his dilated pupils meeting mine as his tongue moved against me. The sensation made my eyes roll to the back of my head, giving me relief and better pleasure than I could have ever imagined. As his tongue lapped slowly at the sensitive bud, I felt his finger tease my folds, my hips bucking in reaction. His finger finally entered me easily, slipping and curling right into my clenching walls. He kept at a slow rhythm before adding another finger and lapping at my clit more quickly. His fingers began to speed up at as well, causing my back to arch.

I felt my climax near, before he pulled away. I gasped at his action with a frown. He quickly unzipped his pants, his briefs following suit as his cock slapped against his stomach. My lips parted at the sight, before he moved to his nightstand.

“You don't need one,” I cleared my throat, my legs still open as I lay there. “I’m all covered.”

He eyes widened, and I swore I saw precum beginning to leak out due to my words.

“Shit, are you sure?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

I nodded, recollecting memories of taking my birth control on the dot for the past week, knowing that this moment was inevitable. He walked back over to me, moving back on top of me. He pressed his lips to mine, giving me a sweet kiss before pulling away and positioning himself.

This is it.

He rubbed his tip up and down my heat, coating his tip with my wetness, before slowly pushing into me. His face hovered above mine, watching my expression as I felt him carefully slide his entire length into me. It was uncomfortable, his large size was something I’d not been used to. He stopped, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Let me know whenever you’re ready for me to move,” he assured me, his hand coming to my face to stroke my cheek and push a few strands of hair out of my face.

I nodded, my eyes closed and my forehead creasing at the pressure as he allowed me to adjust to him. I forced myself to open my eyes, meeting his blue ones. I concentrated on the blue orbs, eyes moving to the freckles on his nose and the disheveled waves on his head. His swollen, plump lips called for mine, as I attached mine to his without thinking. I pulled away, eyes absorbing his features once more, and I felt myself open up for him. It amazed me that I could find such comfort and peace so quickly in his features. I gave him a nod, letting him know that he could begin moving. He pressed one more gentle kiss onto my lips before slowly pushing himself out and moving back inside of me.

His hips moved gently against mine, still keeping at a careful pace. I was quick to adjust to the movements, beginning to find pleasure in the feeling. I could feel him stretching me, feeling all of the veins and ridges of his bare cock against my walls. I sighed, giving him more confidence to pull more of himself out and reenter me with a little more force. Our lips attached to each other, moving together at a rhythm, similar to the one he’d been fucking me with. His hips rolled against mine, feeling him go deeper into me as my fingers went back to his hair, needing to tug on the soft locks.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, giving him more access to fuck me deeper. I moaned against his lips as his pace began picking up, hearing the sounds of him moving through my juices, his skin slapping against mine. His thrusts became deeper and harder, bringing me close to my edge.

“I-I’m close, George,” I informed him, my lips pulling away as our foreheads rested against each other.

“Cum for me, angel,” he encouraged me, thrusting himself deep enough to brush a certain spot that drove me to my orgasm.

My eyes shut as my vision went fuzzy, feeling myself clench around him whilst I rode my high through his thrusts, bucking my hips to meet his own. He quickly pulled out of me, his hand going to his cock as he pleasured himself. I moved myself under him, causing him to finish himself over my breasts, his mouth agape and his eyes half-lidded. The sight of his cum on my breasts was enough to make him hard again, his pupils dilated at the sight underneath him.

“Can you go for another round?” I asked, looking up at him after noticing his already-erect penis.

He blissful, fucked-out expression turned into a smirk.

“I thought you’d never ask, angel,” he admitted, bringing me back up to his lips.

We kissed with much more force this time, as I rolled myself on top of him, his juices meeting his chest as well. But we didn’t care–we needed to feel each other again. I sat up, straddling him, before raising myself up and positioning his dick at my entrance once again. I slowly lowered myself onto him, feeling him blissfully fill me again. I didn’t need to adjust this time, instead, I began swirling my hips almost instantly. His hands immediately went to my hips, his fingers digging into the skin, guiding me against him. My own hands went to his chest, looking down and watching as I moved against him.

His hands snaked up my back, pulling me down to meet his lips. We kissed sloppily as I began moving faster against him, feeling him deeper and deeper inside of me, hoping he’d hit the spot inside of me again. I pulled away, sitting back up and rocking my hips faster, feeling my second climax approaching. Without warning, he lifted me up by my hips and began pounding into me, chasing his own release. And with this faster, harder, and deeper pace, he hit the spot I’d been searching for, and he hit it over and over. I screamed in pleasure, clenching around him, as I felt him spurt inside of me, hitting the spot again whilst I rode my high, the stimulation causing me to roll my eyes back and my thighs quiver.

I raised myself off of him, watching his juices, mixed with my own, slowly drip out of my entrance. I plopped next to him, my chest heaving up and down, my body exhausted from all of the energy I’d just exerted.

“I need to take a fucking shower,” I breathed with a laugh, looking down at my chest, still littered with his juices whilst more of him dripped out of me.

I turned my head to look at him, noticing he’d already been looking at me.

“Be mine, Y/n.”

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #x reader #smut #1917 #1917 cast #fanfic #fanfics

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