#does anyone have any answers or are we all lost in the sauce together?

[leftoversludge]

why is the cat king in port townsend? is he everywhere cats are, sort of an omniscient being like the endless? making him of desire's domain? or is he just stuck in port townsend? because why would be trap edwin to that one town if he could just show up anywhere cats are? or maybe its hard to track people down, namely ghosts given they have no scent or anything to follow, and he just wanted the convenience of knowing what town he was in at all times, but if he didn't trap edwin there, edwin would've just gone to london.. they typically hang around in london, their main haunt, one could say... does each town/city have their own cat king? maybe he's not allowed to enter another's cat kingdom... does he just like it there? i can't imagine why, given that its on the beach and stereotypically cats hate water... does he like port townsend cats the best? are they his favorite? oh, beach=ocean=where fish live and cats love fish, so him residing in a beach town actually makes the most sense out of anywhere else in the world. is there a dog king? is there a king for every animal? or just cats..? he can turn into a cat, make flowers appear out of nowhere, transport himself and other people into another room, make boxes as chairs appear, how far can he transport himself? because then he could have just appeared in london if he really wanted... can he know what all cats know and see? how connected to the physical realm is he? i feel like he's about as connected to it as one of the endless, but his domain sort of thing is on earth, and he is not endless, he is cat. who is he, man?? i am just deeply confused and intrigued...

[cake-writes]

Just This Once

Pairing: Kakashi x Female!Reader

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, he gets lost in the sauce frfr, situationship… ish?, this man wants to RUN, disorganised attachment style (primarily avoidant), penis in vagina sex, teasing, edging (accidental), unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: Kakashi discovers that he has a breeding kink. It's kind of a spiritual experience.

Inspired by @rookie98writes's fic Leave It On

—

Kakashi isn’t used to the strange sort of domesticity that comes with being in a... whatever this is. It’s not quite a relationship. A situationship, maybe. He’d say it’s something more than friends-with-benefits, but the two of you aren’t really friends, either.  

You come together every now and then. That’s all. Like two passing ships in the night. 

So why is he standing in front of your stove, cooking dinner while you sort through the pile of unopened mail on your kitchen table? Why did he offer to water your plants while you were gone? Why does he want to do anything for you? 

Kakashi knows what it’s like trying to play catch-up after some time away from home—two months, in your case. He’d knocked on your door a few minutes ago with the intention of returning your key, and he must have caught you right after you got back from the store if the two bags of groceries on your kitchen counter were any indication. 

You looked so dead on your feet that Kakashi took over from there, unprompted. But now, as he stirs the pot of flavourful soup simmering away on the stove, his mind sees fit to wander.  

What the hell is he doing?  

He’s getting too attached. That’s what he’s doing.  

It’s that time again—time to cut and run, just as he always does when things start to become complicated. Kakashi makes a habit of ending any potential connection before it can even start, because he can’t afford to lose anyone else. He can’t get hurt if he never lets anyone in. It’s easier that way. 

“I need to schedule my injection,” you mutter to yourself as you read through one particular letter. Then you sigh and toss it back down onto the table, before you lean back in your chair and rub your tired eyes. “We should probably get used to using condoms again until I can book an appointment.” 

Your birth control must be overdue, then.  

“Sure,” Kakashi answers, feigning unbothered. The two of you used condoms in the beginning, but after a particularly gruesome mission that nearly saw him home in a box, Kakashi stopped reaching for the bedside drawer, and you stopped asking him to.  

He should have known then that he was getting too attached. 

Still, it’s your body. Whatever you want. He’ll end things in the morning either way. 

As Kakashi samples a bit of the soup he’s minding on the stove, pausing for a moment to add a bit more salt, it suddenly sinks in – really sinks in – what could happen if the two of you aren’t careful.  

He could get you pregnant. 

A jolt of arousal shoots through him.

Kakashi doesn’t want children, not now, not ever, which is why it doesn’t make a lick of sense that such a thing would turn him on. He likes the idea of his seed taking root inside of you. He might even enjoy it, the imagery his mind conjures—you bent over for him, begging him to give you a baby, your pretty yukata hiked up around your waist…  

His clan crest embroidered on the back of it.  

Kakashi swears.

You startle, looking over at him in alarm. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he lies. Then he proceeds to play it off like he burned himself, but he isn’t fine. No, that single thought, that single fantasy, scares the complete and utter shit out of him—but it turns him on even more, and that’s so much worse.  

He’s already too attached. 

—

Kakashi doesn’t do feelings. He has them, of course, much like any other person, but he doesn’t let them show very often, and he certainly doesn’t talk about them. He won’t say in so many words that he cares; instead, he shows you through his actions alone. 

His knees brush the underside of your thighs as he settles between your legs, bracing himself with one hand beside your head.  

What a vision you make, spread out for him like this.  

Your lamp had blown when you went to turn it on, leaving the streetlights to illuminate your features in a sickly hue of yellow-green. It isn’t romantic in the least, but he can’t help thinking that you’ve never looked more beautiful than in this moment—maybe because it’s the last time he’ll ever get to see you like this.  

The sight of you, so needy and wanting, fills his chest with something bittersweet.  

The tomoe of his sharingan spins lazily as he memorises the curves of your body, the muss of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest as you work to recover from your first orgasm of the night. His fingers are still tacky with your essence, and he smears the residual wetness over the head of his cock.

“You should wear a condom,” comes your breathy whisper, but you make no move to stop him. Your eyes almost seem to glow as you peer up at him in the dark, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. 

“Mm. Do you want me to?” 

His question hangs heavy in the air. The only things Kakashi can hear are your soft breaths and the sound of his own steady heartbeat, which quickens with every silent second that passes.  

You want to say no, he realises.  

He wants you to say no. 

“I like it better without,” you answer quietly, and the implication isn’t lost on him. Not when you look up at him with those big doe eyes, like you don’t know the risk. 

Because there is a risk, and he knows it. Kakashi hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it all night—wicked thoughts, terrible thoughts—thoughts of filling your fertile womb with his seed, thoughts of watching your belly grow round with his child, thoughts of seeing his clan sigil stamped between your shoulder blades like a mark of ownership. 

His.  

Against his better judgement, Kakashi does exactly what he shouldn’t do. He agrees.

“Just this once.”  

Just like he says every other time—except every other time, there's never been a risk.

Your coy little smile prompts him to lower down onto an arm and settle more of his weight on you. Kakashi dips his head to kiss you indulgently, savouring the taste of you, the feel of you beneath him. He kisses you like he hopes to convey just how much he missed you while you were gone, like you might be able to taste the unspoken words that linger in his mouth. 

He kisses you like he means it—and he does. That’s why he needs to go. 

As his tongue twines with yours, Kakashi fills you in a slow, beautiful glide that wrenches a whimper from your throat. He knows he should go easy on you, but he relishes in the rapid flutter of your walls as you struggle to adjust to him after so much time apart. A surge of masculine pride washes over him, tinged with a hint of guilt for stretching you open like this. He isn’t exactly small, after all, but you take him so well. 

To ease any potential discomfort, he smooths his hand up the silky skin of your thigh in a soothing caress, before he trails gentle, placating kisses along your jawline. “Is this okay?” Kakashi asks, voice low, only to be rewarded with a particularly strong contraction that makes his toes curl. 

“More than okay,” you sigh. 

As a test, he shifts his hips. When Kakashi hears your breath hitch, he knows that you can handle more.  

He starts slow, rocking into you sensually, but he already knows that he isn’t going to last. It’s been just as long for him, and you’re tighter than you’ve ever been.  

“God, Kakashi, you feel so good.”  

So do you. Kakashi sucks a bruise on your neck in response, if only to muffle the sound of his own pleasure when your perfect cunt clenches around him again.  

He needs to pace himself, or he’ll finish too soon—but then you ask him for more, and what else can he do but oblige you?

He speeds up, not overly so, just enough that both of you can hear the slick, sloppy sounds of your lovemaking. The smell of your arousal permeates the air, and he’s tempted to have another taste. 

Later. 

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. “Did you miss me that much?” 

Maybe he’s reassurance-seeking – just a little – but your answering whine tells him what he already knows. 

He’ll miss this. He’ll miss you. That’s why he needs to go. 

Kakashi doesn't want to think about that. He just wants to enjoy what little time with you he has left.

“Stay with me,” you rasp. You’ve always been good at noticing when he’s stuck in his head, but right now, Kakashi can’t help but wonder if you’ve just read his thoughts. You see through him so easily. It’s one of the things he likes about you. 

“Sorry,” he says with genuine apology, leaning in to capture your lips again. You let out a pleased hum into his mouth and lift your thighs up a little higher—an offering, one he’s more than happy to accept, even if he doesn’t plan to reciprocate your vulnerability.

It’s selfish, he knows. 

The new angle does something to him, or maybe it’s because he's well aware that it would be even easier to fill you up this way. He reaches deeper like this, and the tilt of your hips would perfectly hold his cum in place, increasing the chances that it’ll take. 

He wants it to take. 

Kakashi exhales a long, shaky breath. He shouldn’t want that as much as he does. He shouldn’t want it at all.  

“Close?”  

Yes, but he’s not going to tell you that. Kakashi pulls back to look at you, only to find you gazing up at him like he’s hung the moon. It makes his heart ache.  

He stamps it down. “I could be,” he teases lightly—a non-answer. “Are you?” 

When you open your mouth to respond, however, he snaps his hips forward suddenly to make you trip over your words. “I—shit,” you swear, and his eyes shine with silent laughter. Your own narrow playfully as you add, “I could be too, if you keep that up.”  

“Really?” 

To pick on you a little, Kakashi withdraws from your tight heat more slowly than he has all night, agonisingly slowly, until only the head of him remains inside; and then he lingers there, purposely, until the stirrings of impatience start to take you over.  

It’s cute, the frown you give him, the pout he sees beginning to form. “Don’t be mean,” you tell him sulkily. 

His lips tug up at the corners, revealing a hint of prominent canine. “Maa, I didn’t realise you were in a rush,” Kakashi drawls. “And here I wanted to take my time with you.”  

Before you can read too much into what he’s just said, he slams home. Hard.

Your startled gasp brings on a flicker of self-satisfaction deep within. Kakashi relishes in the knowledge that only he can make you feel like this—especially when he starts to fuck you in earnest, prompting you to fling your arms around his shoulders.  

“F-Fuck, Kakashi, oh my god—” 

“That’s it,” he encourages gently. “Hold onto me.”

He likes the closeness of it, the intimacy.

You cling to him like your life depends on it, which brings about a funny feeling in his chest that he can’t quite shake—something warm and gooey and affectionate.  

Kakashi stamps that down, too, and traces the line of your neck with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your sensitive skin until you shiver. Seeing your throat so littered with love bites unearths something within him, something primal that he’s always refused to name. He likes seeing the marks he’s left on you. He wants them to mean something.

He wants them to mean that you’re his. 

He’s too attached. 

To distract himself from what he intends to do in the morning, Kakashi picks up the pace, flesh smacking against flesh as he drives his hips into yours, fast and rough, exactly how you want it.  

It won't last long. He’s too worked up. 

Kakashi knows he’ll come before you do if he continues like this, but when he tries to slow down, you dig your heels insistently into his ass. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, please—” 

“I’ll have to pull out soon,” he says raggedly, even though the thought of finishing in you already has him ready to blow.

When Kakashi feels you lock your ankles behind him, he nearly does.  

“I want it inside,” you whine, your breath fanning hot over the shell of his ear.  

His thoughts screech to a halt. You want him to come inside you, knock you up— 

“Fuck,” he curses, stopping abruptly, buried all the way to the hilt. His cock throbs wildly, desperate for release, forcing him to tightly grip the the sheets above your head in order to stave it off. 

If he moves right now, he’s done for.  

When you make a quiet, frustrated sound deep in your throat and wiggle your hips, Kakashi barely manages to hang on. He can feel that tell-tale flutter inside of you, the one that indicates exactly how close you are, but he’s closer. His breaths come out in short, sharp pants as he tries to hold himself together.  

You finish first. Always. 

“Don’t be mean,” you say again, but you sound a little more petulant this time.  

Kakashi lets out an exhausted sort of laugh and presses a wet smack of a kiss against your cheek, making you giggle. “You like it when I’m mean.”  

“I like it when you’re nice,” you clap back, voice breathy. 

Kakashi hums knowingly. “All right. I can be nice.”  

Then he pulls back just enough to pepper your face with kisses, and you squeal in delight, though it soon tapers off into a moan when he starts to trail them down your throat, each one more sensual than the last. He palms one of your breasts, gently squeezing, tweaking a nipple— 

“Come on,” you whine, digging your heels into his ass a second time. 

No more teasing. You want him to be nice.

You inhale sharply when Kakashi picks back up where he left off, this time with quick, shallow thrusts that target your g-spot. He smooths his hand down your side, savouring the softness of your skin, then he slides it in between your bodies to rub your clit in just the way you like—the way he remembers you like, because he’s too fucking attached. And sure enough, when your hips buck from the added sensation, he knows that it’s working for you. 

“If you—If you edge me again, I swear to god—” 

Upon hearing the indignation in your voice, Kakashi laughs softly. “I won’t.” 

Then he remembers that he won’t have a chance to edge you again. Not after tonight. 

His jaw tenses at the reminder. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, holding onto him, needing him, which pulls him right back into the present. “Come with me. Please?” 

Kakashi bites back a groan and slides in deeper, readying to do what his body craves. 

No. He can’t come with you. He’d have to finish inside in order for that to happen. 

And just like that, he’s back to teetering on the edge. The filth his mind conjures nearly proves to be his undoing—a vivid image of your tight, wet cunt wringing out every drop of his cum until it takes, tying you to him, making you need him. Making you his. The threat of it simmers under his skin, but it’s starting to feel more like a guarantee. 

Get her there, then pull out. 

Kakashi repeats those words in his head like a mantra, over and over, like it’ll ensure that he lasts, and it works—at least until you start to move your hips in time with his thrusts. You meet him at the perfect angle, sucking him deep on every stroke, allowing him to slide just beyond your cervix and into that spot that sends your voice into a fever pitch. 

A choked sob escapes you as you rake your nails down his back, leaving red lines in your wake. The sting of it only sends him higher, and he sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder to prevent himself from blowing too soon. 

“Right there, Kakashi, right fucking there—” 

Right there, so deep within you that if he came right now— 

He groans when he imagines what would happen, and it all ends with his baby in your belly and his family crest on your back. It shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does, yet he fucks into you with purpose, now—hard, deep, powerful thrusts that knock your headboard into the wall. 

Kakashi knows exactly what that purpose is. The primal part of his brain won’t let him forget it. 

“Yes, just like that, fuck me, make me fucking yours—” 

He kisses you to shut you up, because if he hears another syllable, he’s sure to fill you to the brim. It’s not a gentle kiss, not now. He holds your head in place with a firm grip on your jaw, shoves his tongue into your mouth, and still, he recites his mantra. 

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then pull out.  

Get her there, then—  

You jerk your head away to gulp in a breath of fresh air, chest heaving from exertion, and Kakashi’s eyes sweep over your face for any sign of discomfort. What he finds is the opposite, and he drinks in the pleasured scrunch of your brows, the hazy flutter of your eyelids, the kiss-swollen state of your lips. 

Watching your muscles tense and strain as you struggle to keep your eyes on his is one of the most intimate things he’s ever experienced. “Come inside me,” you beg, and he can hear the desperation there, see it written all over your pretty face. “I need it, I fucking need it, Kakashi, give me your cum—” 

“I’ll give it to you,” he chokes out. Anything for you. Anything you want. 

The way your fingers wrench into his hair belies a hunger that matches his own as you drag him down for another kiss, messy and insistent, demanding that he make good on his promise to pump you full. He can feel the ripple of your inner walls as you come undone, feel the painfully tight squeeze of your legs around his waist, holding him there, ensuring that he stays; and never in his life has he felt so overwhelmed.  

He can’t pull out. Not now. Not when you’re so willing to milk him dry. 

Kakashi kisses you with everything that he is as he shoves himself impossibly deep inside of you, acting solely on instinct to drown your cervix in hot, sticky spend. He lets out a sound of pure male satisfaction that you eagerly swallow down, your tongue massaging his in tune with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself inside of you, painting your insides white.

It feels good. It feels right. 

He’s too attached. 

He doesn’t care. 

As he comes down from his high, all Kakashi can think about is how fucking risky it is, what he’s just done, which only ruins him more when the post-orgasm clarity finally hits. 

Why the hell did he do that?  

What the hell did he do?

Your thighs tremble and shake, a sign that he’s done his job well, though he feels no pride in it—just a growing sense of panic.  

He needs to go. He needs to go right now. Not tomorrow. Now. He needs to get the hell out of here and never look back, right fucking now.  

Then he hears your quiet sob, and his heart leaps into his throat. Kakashi jerks his head down to look at you, and when he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks, he actually does panic.  

“Did I—Shit,” he quickly pulls out to check on you, more attentive than he’s ever been, “Did I hurt you?” 

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s accidentally hurt a woman during sex, but he really should have taken it easier on you. He probably went too deep, hit your cervix too hard. 

“No,” you sniffle. “I’m fine. I just... I really missed you.” 

Fuck. Don’t say that. You’ll make him want to stay.  

His eyes soften as they trail over your features – the colour of your irises, the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips – and he gently smooths your tears away with the backs of his fingers. “I didn’t hurt you?” 

You shake your head and offer him a watery smile. “I also came really, really hard,” you add matter-of-factly, and he huffs out a relieved laugh. It’s hormonal, then. “They’re happy tears, Kakashi. Calm down.” 

Teasing or not, someone telling him of all people to calm down is an otherworldly experience. The phrase lands strangely, and for the first time since he came to see you tonight, his thoughts quiet down to a dull background murmur. 

They’re happy tears, you said. 

You’re happy with him. 

He’s happy with you, too. He doesn’t want to go. 

You frown, then, and lean up onto your elbows to look at him more closely. “What’s wrong?”  

Kakashi can’t be sure what you see in his expression to warrant that sort of question, but the fight finally leaves him. He sits back on his heels and drags a hand down his face, feeling defeated for a reason he can’t explain.  

“I was just...” Happy, for a moment. Happy to be with you. “Worried,” he finishes lamely. He can’t look at you, not when he feels the heat of a blush creeping up his neck. 

You laugh and gently cup the side of his face, turning him back towards you. “Okay. Well, I’m fine,” you pat his cheek in playful reprimand, “but I am leaking all over my clean sheets, and it’s your fault, so...”  

That draws his attention. When Kakashi sees the creamy mess spilling out of you, his flaccid cock twitches with interest even after he remembers why his stomach is in knots.  

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, transfixed by the sight. 

He wants to do it again.

He shouldn’t want to do it again. He feels fucking crazy for having done it once already, when the two of you aren’t even in a relationship, let alone in any way prepared for a child. But again? A second time? He’d have to be certifiably insane. 

“It’s fine,” you reassure him, and Kakashi wonders how the hell you can possibly be taking it so in stride. He came a lot. There’s so much of it dripping out onto the sheets that it’s starting to create a small puddle under your ass, and there’s even more inside of you—a lot more, judging by how hard he came. 

It might take. It might seriously take, and you think it’s fine? 

“You’re doing it again,” you tell him, and his eyes snap back up to yours. He’s in his head again, you mean. Then you chew your lip for a moment, hesitation evident, before you ask carefully, “You’ve been acting a little… off tonight. Is everything okay?”  

Every single one of his instincts is telling him to run. That’s where this conversation always leads, but he’s not ready for it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. 

He swallows the lump in his throat. “I’m fine.” 

When you frown at him, skeptical, Kakashi shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.  

“Okay. I won’t pry. But, um, I’m here. You know. If you ever need to talk.” You say it a little awkwardly, like you aren’t sure if he’d be offended by the suggestion, and the worried crease between your brows only grows at whatever you see in his expression. “Or... Or not.” 

You laugh nervously, then, and shift away from him, only to wrinkle your nose when more of his cum oozes out of you.  

It’s cute. You’re cute. 

“You said it’s fine. Why?” The question leaves him before he even thinks it through, but it’s too late, now.  

“What?” 

This wasn’t the first time he’s come inside of you, not by a long shot, but it’s certainly the riskiest. “I finished inside. Aren’t you upset?” 

“What do you mean? You finish inside me all the—” Then you stop, and your brows shoot straight up onto your forehead. “Wait, is this about my birth control?”  

“Well, it’s overdue, isn’t it?”  

You stare at him for a prolonged moment, and he can almost see the gears turning in your head. Then your nostrils flare. “Are you kidding me? You thought my birth control was overdue, and you still—” Scandalised, you slap him on the arm. “Kakashi!” 

Oh. Well. It must not be overdue yet, then. 

Of course you wouldn’t let him come inside if there was a chance that you might conceive. He’s a fucking idiot. 

“That’s so bad! What if you got me pregnant?” 

A lick of heat shoots up his spine upon hearing you give voice to what’s been on his mind all night. Kakashi stares at you, wide eyed, and blushes all the way to the tips of his ears.  

You study his face for a moment, before you purse your lips, looking a little troubled. Or pissed off. He can’t really tell. “I mean... Did you want to get me pregnant?” 

“No,” he rushes to say, his cheeks burning hot because yes, he did, but not for real.  “No. Not at all. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, and...”  

And how the hell is he supposed to explain himself? Neither of you are exactly vanilla, you’ve explored a number of kinks together, but this is something else entirely. Then again, a breeding kink would make the most sense out of any, considering it stems from a biological urge to procreate. 

But would you even believe him if he said he only gets off to the fantasy of it, and not the reality? Because if a woman ever said that to him, he’d get the hell out of dodge as fast as he could. 

A sly smile tugs at your lips, then, a knowing smile, and Kakashi quickly averts his eyes to the window, embarrassed. 

“You like it, don’t you?” you hum, seductively walking your fingers along his bare shoulders. “You like the idea of knocking me up.” 

Refusing to look at you, Kakashi clears his throat, trying to ignore the arousal that comes on from your suggestive tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No?” The sheets rustle as you reposition yourself, and then, when your fingers delicately wrap around his cock, he inhales sharply and bites the inside of his cheek. “Then why are you so hard?”  

And he is, too. He’s already fully erect and ready for another round, and he knows that there’s no way to lie his way out of it anymore. As you start to work your hand over him in slow, sensual strokes, up and down, coaxing the answer out of him, his head drops back. “Because,” he rasps.  

The sheets shift again, and then you crawl into his lap. He welcomes you gladly, splaying his hand over your lower back to steady you, though he still can’t meet your gaze. He’s too embarrassed. 

“Because why?” you hum. Kakashi lets out a pleasured sigh as you kiss and suck your way up the side of his neck, stroking him steadily, before you purr into his ear, “Because you want to give me a baby?” 

A soft sound of approval rips out of his throat, and his cock twitches into your palm. “Don’t—Don’t say that,” he pleads. 

“Hm? Why not?” 

To hell with it. No sense in hiding it anymore. “Because I might actually do it.” 

“Yeah?” Your teeth tug playfully at his earlobe before you pull back to look at him, and Kakashi finally wills himself to meet your sultry gaze, humiliated though he is. “You know,” you muse, “I don’t like condoms for a reason. I wonder why?” 

The breath leaves his lungs with a whoosh.

Oh, he should have known. You’re just as filthy as he is. Of course you’d have a breeding kink, too, though he’s exceedingly grateful that you’d kept it to yourself until now. You’ve never been shy about sharing the things you enjoy, which means you probably figured out how he’d react. That’s the only explanation. 

He likes that you understand him as well as you do. 

He likes you.

“I think I might be able to guess,” Kakashi says knowingly, a smile playing at his lips. When he leans in to kiss you again, all he can think is: maybe it’s not a bad thing to be too attached. 

-

Snippet #1:

“You said it was overdue,” Kakashi tells you pointedly.

“No, I said I needed to make an appointment,” you correct, and he can see that you’re struggling not to laugh. “I still have, like, a week left on it. Ish. It doesn’t hurt to be careful.” 

While you cook breakfast for the two of you, Kakashi wraps his arms around your waist from behind and traces the shell of your ear with his tongue.  “What if I don’t want to be careful?”  

He feels the shiver wrack your body, but then you do laugh at him. “Down, boy. Three rounds wasn’t enough for you?” 

“Oh, I don’t know...” Kakashi pulls you back against him, allowing you to feel the answer for yourself, hard and insistent against your ass. “You tell me.” 

-

Snippet #2:

Kakashi hides his face in your pillow, feeling distinctly vulnerable without his mask. “Don’t tease me,” he groans, muffled. “I have a delicate constitution.” 

You cackle at his discomfort, like the cruel woman you are. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I’m really, really curious.” Then you hum thoughtfully. “Do you want to know one of mine?” 

He lifts his head just enough to reveal one curious eye. 

You squirm a little, then, like you’re finally starting to realise exactly how embarrassing it is to talk about. “I, um...” A pause. “So, you know how...” Another pause, and you take a deep breath. “Okay. I like to imagine that I'm being used to—to repopulate a clan, I guess. Just, over and over. Lots of kids. But not for real.” 

He feels another jolt of arousal at your admission. 

Looks like you’re on the same page, then. 

Then Kakashi leans up onto his elbow to regard you properly, and then he lifts an eyebrow, as if to point out how closely that particular fantasy hits to home. 

That’s when you seem to realise who you’re talking to – the sole remaining member of a clan that could probably stand to be repopulated – and your eyes go wide, before you nearly trip over yourself to add, “It—It has nothing to do with your clan, specifically, Kakashi, it’s just—” 

“A fantasy,” he finishes for you, amused. 

 You worry your lip between your teeth and nod. 

“Well,” Kakashi says, considering his answer for a moment, “I might have imagined that, too. Specifically.” Then he gives you a roguish grin, intending to pay you back in kind for your teasing. “How many children do you think would be enough for my clan to be sufficiently repopulated, hm? I’m thinking eight.” 

Mortified, you bury your face in your hands. “Oh my god! Eight?” 

Payback’s a bitch. “Well, I was originally going to say ten, but—” 

When you squeal in embarrassment and yank the blankets over your head, Kakashi barely manages to stifle a laugh.  

—

A/N: This is the first thing I've posted in a hot minute, so your feedback would mean a lot - please let me know what you think :)

[blackjackkent]

1, 7 and 14 for Hector

4, 10 and 15 for Karlach

And some group ones for your standard Hectorverse group (Hector, Karlach, Jaheira and whoever you pick as #4)

2, 11, and 17

(OC Asks: Put Those Guys in Situations!)

Wheee, so many prompts. :D TY!

For Hector:

Your character is being offered three wishes by a genie. The usual rules reply. What do they wish for?

A healthy normal heart for Karlach (obviously)

Probably something nice for the monastery that it's been needing, like fixing a big wall that's been broken forever or something like that.

Some kind of cool magical item that gives him and his friends a group chat of some sort even as they start dispersing in the post-game.

-----

7. If your character could have an infinite supply of ONE food, which food would they choose?

Hm. 🤔

I think Hector does not have a particularly adventurous palate. There's exactly zero chance that the monastery where he lived for fifty years was doing exciting culinary things down in the kitchen; this is a man for whom variety was a foreign concept before the nautiloid showed up. We're going to go with a nice venison roast, because it seems something he would likely be familiar with and enjoy.

If this ever comes up as a discussion question in camp, Gale absolutely facepalms aggressively when he says this and starts pointing out much more exotic and interesting meals he could choose, to which Hector is sort of politely puzzled and says, "But I like venison."

-----

9. Your character gets stranded on an island. They can choose one item to have with them. What do they choose?

Hrmdehrm. Something practical, I suspect. A knife, or flint and steel. I don't know exactly how well Hector would do at surviving on his own without the help of anyone around him but he would need all the help he can get.

-----

For Karlach (she's not an OC but I will do my best regardless :D ):

4. Your character has to give a ten-minute speech on a subject of their choice to a room full of experts. What subject do they choose?

This literally actually happens in game, more or less; you can ask her the best way to kill a demon and she gets really excited and infodumps at you about all the different types. It's adorable and was ABSOLUTELY one of the things that first made Hector fall in love with her.

Hector to Karlach:

So... the answer is demon-hunting, and Hector would listen to the whole thing with the biggest heart-eyes imaginable. XD

-----

10. Your character finds a lost child. What do they do?

Again, we actually sort of get an example of this in-game, when Yenna comes to camp. Karlach is super pleased to help her, offers to play games with her, and is just generally a sweetheart. I think in any similar situation she would do the same; make sure the kid had a safe place to be, as long as necessary, and work to find their parents. She grew up poor and I'm sure knew plenty of street kids in the Outer City, and probably saw the big advantage that she was given by having a safe place and a roof over her head, and she also talks about wishing she'd been able to help with Jaheira's halfway house instead of working for Gortash; I think she'd want to help any way she could for a kid in need.

-----

15. Your character is doing a sponsored challenge to raise money for charity. What kind of challenge do they do?

Something physical, probably. She has an idle animation in camp doing one-armed pushups so maybe something around that. I could also see her doing one of those hot sauce challenges or the like.

Kissing booth would also get a lot of takers and give her lots of long-denied physical contact. XD

-----

For the Hectorverse Group! (We'll put in Minsc as the fourth since he was the standard fill in the flex slot for the latter chunk of the game.)

2. Your characters have been locked in a room together for 24 hours. It is impossible to escape the room by any means. What happens?

LOL. This sort of depends on the scenario that has put them in the room. It's impossible to escape, but is the confinement for a known reason with a known end time? Do they get out after 24 hours? If so, this is absolutely IMMEDIATELY taken as an excuse for everyone to get some goddamn rest. Jaheira sacks out in one corner, Hector and Karlach snuggle up in another, Minsc and Boo just kind of vibe until the time is up.

If they're just stuck there indefinitely things get a lot more tense. Karlach and Minsc definitely start getting restless at the start of the second day and between them smash a large dent in the wall with brute force. Jaheira and Hector have to divide their time between examining the room and trying to figure out why they're there and how to communicate with anyone outside, and taking turns talking their two pet berserkers repeatedly down off the rage ledge.

11. Your characters are sharing stories around the fire. What story does each character tell? Whose story is the most popular?

Jaheira and Minsc probably do most of the talking here. They have lots of fun stories about traveling with Caden in Amn and before, and Hector (being a history nerd) and Karlach (being a bit hero-worshippy) are both FASCINATED to hear about it. When it's her turn, Karlach avoids talking about the Blood War entirely, even if encouraged, and focuses on telling stories from her childhood in Baldur's Gate. Hector feels a bit foolish because he doesn't feel like anything of story-worthy interest really happened at the monastery for the most part, and sort of avoids the question by making some comment about not being a good storyteller.

17. One of the characters in the group has been replaced by an evil doppelganger. How does the group figure out who it is?

Damn it, Orin! [shakes fist] XD

This was really Hector's nightmare scenario and when it turned out to be the case with Lae'zel it scared the shit out of him. I am pretty sure he and everyone in the camp came up with some secret code words and gestures after that to use for this purpose, things that Orin wouldn't know, in order to verify their identity with each other if there was ever further doubt. I don't think they'd be anything obvious, but something mundane that could be slipped into the conversation without arousing a potential doppelganger's suspicion.

[muffinlance]

@captainkirkk

It takes days of wondering, is it him, is he the thing that's different, did he really screw up as an infant and that's why Ozai--

His mother is still here. His sister and he are in the same firebending classes, and she's better, of course she's better, but he doesn't have any of the little spackled scars from his teacher--their teacher--getting frustrated with his slowness, with being stuck training the lesser sibling, with--

And after the lesson, when he's still wobbly in this too-young body he woke up in, she grabs his sleeve and hauls him off

"You can't still be worried about dad," she says, like either of them have ever called Ozai anything but Father. "What's wrong with you?"

Oh, Zuko realizes; this Zuko is better. And this Azula noticed when he wasn't, and cares, and is crossing her arms and glaring at him while she demands answers, and

"You know I love you, right?" he says

"...You were running around in that mask again, weren't you. Zuzu, how much head damage did you get this time?" She knows about his Blue Spiriting--this Zuko still has reasons to Blue Spirit--and before he can even begin to process that she says, "This is why we need to go together."

So they do. Blue Spirit and Gold break into the nobleman's house, they find the evidence of the embezzlements, and they leave it, gigging and breathless, on the desk of the Fire Lord without his guards ever noticing.

On the desk of Fire Lord Iroh

Fire Lord Iroh ascended the dragon throne nearly fifty years ago, after the late Azulon's untimely heart attack

Fire Lord Iroh, then barely the age of majority, raised his younger brother Ozai like a son, just as he raised his nation to new heights

Ozai, second in line after Crown Prince Lu Ten, returns to the palace and hugs his brother (his father). Hugs his wife and his daughter and his son.

"Victory, I assume?" Azula asks, and she and her father have the same sharp smile as they all go down the hall after Uncle, who is eager to make the new tea blend his baby brother has brought back from Ba Sing Se.

Grand Secretariat Long Feng sends his most respectful regards. He and Ozai have finalized their arrangements, no unsightly sieges required. It's too bad, really, about his own young monarch's failing health--fortunately, wiser minds will soon prevail upon the throne.

Zuko sits. Zuko has tea. He can't tell if it's good or bad because

Because Ozai touches him on the shoulder, a casual gesture, just reaching past him for the soy sauce Lu Ten is teasingly keeping from his "big brother's" grip, and

And everyone is alive and everyone is here and the last time his own Ozai touched him was--

And he can't remember the time before that. He honestly can't.

The hand on his shoulder is light, is warm, is the casual touch of a love that never needed to be earned.

This family loves each other. Loves him.

They do not love the world.

"Oh," says Ozai, nearly off-handedly, "I heard the most interesting rumors on the way home. Apparently grandfather missed at least one of the air nomads. And an entire sky bison."

"An old man?" Iroh asks.

"A twelve-year-old," Ozai replies. "Traveling with--"

That part hasn't changed. Just... Everything else.

Just Zuko.

Iroh sits back from his tea, stroking his beard. "It would be a shame to allow the knowledge of such bending to be lost again. Perhaps we should send someone to retrieve them, before any of our troops get... over zealous."

Azula is suddenly catching Zuko's eye, is kicking him under the table, and--

And the Blue and Gold Spirits make such an excellent team around the capital, but neither of them have ever been allowed to leave home.

Have never been forced to leave.

Azula speaks up, when Zuko doesn't. "Uncle," she says, like that's how to address her Fire Lord, "Retrieving one pacifist and a barely-trained waterbender" --she does not bother mentioning Sokka, not that anyone at this table has earned the right to know his name-- "is hardly a mission worthy for our troops. But perhaps it would prove a useful introduction to command, for your two youngest officers?"

She smiles sharply, winningly.

And. And Zuko is off to hunt the Avatar.

I was thinking about universe swap AUs where characters from very dark (and often abusive) universes get brought into a much kinder universe. Those AUs are my favourite but consider:

Canon Zuko is temporarily brought into a universe where his father never hurt him, his mother never left, Azula adores her big brother- and he has no idea why this universe is so much kinder to him than his own

[frenchpuppycormier]

HI ZOË!!! angst #16 for that sentence starter post if you're still up for some writing. i love getting my feelings hurt 🤡

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Then why are there bruises all over your face?"

—

Kara doesn't have a mean bone in her body.

She waves at every animal she sees on her daily walks and patrols at night. She gives and gives to people without expecting anything in return. When someone is having a bad day or just really needs to talk, she listens, even criminals. Most of them aren't any different than the average person, they simply were dealt the wrong hand. She's extremely loyal and doesn't take anything personally. One time, Kara saved a fly that was trapped in a spider's web.

So yeah, Kara doesn't have a mean bone in her body. Which is why today is such an anomaly.

She's in the kitchen still dressed in her navy chinos and baby pink button up with palm trees from when she came home from work. Andrea made her rewrite an article thrice, Jeremy from accounting had broken the copier machine and politely asked for her help in fixing it, she stopped a bank robbery a few blocks down from CatCo when she realized the police wouldn't get there in time, and to top it all off she unwillingly skipped lunch after someone stole her sandwich from the staff fridge.

To say she was exhausted and starving was an understatement. Changing into her pajamas meant she had to walk all the way to the bedroom and Kara was too lazy, even for superspeed.

As she stirs her homemade tomato sauce she taps her phone screen and checks the time. 6:35 pm. Frowning, Kara doesn't see any missed messages or calls from Lena letting her know she's going to be late.

She shrugs to herself and thinks Lena must've gotten caught up in her lab and lost track of time. It happens more often than not, and Kara doesn't think it'll ever change, much to her chagrin. It's bad enough Lena forgets to eat lunch most days, but to continuously forget her phone and watch in her office? Kara knows her wife's a workaholic, but she wasn't aware until now, the fourth night this week, that it was getting this bad.

Kara strains the pasta and cuts the garlic bread while periodically stirring the sauce and checking her phone. She decides to finally turn on some music when the silence of the penthouse becomes too stifling and daunting.

She's in the middle of dancing to ABBA and plating the food when she hears a familiar heartbeat walking down the hall. Kara tries not to listen to it too often—she doesn't want Lena to feel like her privacy has been invaded—but sometimes she can't help it. Her wife's heartbeat is one of the most soothing sounds she's ever heard, and ever since she heard it for the first time, she's just been naturally drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

Kara smiles as she hears it get closer until Lena's opening the door and walking through. "Hey, babe! I'm in the kitchen!" she yells, her energetic voice reverberating throughout the house.

There's no verbal response like there usually is, which is the first warning sign. The second is when Lena walks by—she has to in order to go to their room—it's with quick steps and careful avoidance. But Kara's been able to read her like a book since they've known each other, and she knows something's amiss by the way Lena doesn't even greet her with a kiss. She always does.

"Lena?"

Her wife stops frozen in her tracks, head angled down, hair covering her face like a curtain. Lena's heart ticks up a beat, leaving Kara wildly concerned.

"Lena?" she steps around the island and stands in front of her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbles.

Kara tilts her head to make eye contact, but Lena moves her head so she can't. "Then why won't you let me look at you?"

"It's nothing, I-I'm fine."

"And why does that not convince me?" Kara sighs. Lena doesn't move a muscle and she keeps quiet. "Are you hurt?"

"No." She still shows no signs of moving. It's like she's decided her next career move is becoming one of those marble sculptures at the museum people love to gawk at.

"Lena...you're scaring me." She tentatively reaches out and grasps Lena's fingers, tremendously thankful when she doesn't pull away. If there's one thing her wife is bad at, it's letting people in. But she also knows when she's feeling stressed or overwhelmed that holding her hand relaxes and grounds her. "Please..."

Finally, after standing there in an awkward and probably painful way with the way Lena's neck is positioned, she slowly looks up. Kara audibly gasps when she sees her, and what she sees ignites a fire in her chest and a fury in her eyes. "If you're not hurt, then why are there bruises all over your face?"

"Kara.."

"Lena," she breathes and lifts her hands to gently cup her face, tears pooling in her eyes. Her breathing is significantly more ragged than before, and she mentally takes note of why that is. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," she repeats.

Kara frowns and backs away, crossing her arms. "Who did this to you?"

"Please, Kara. I don't want to make a big deal—"

"Who?" her voice is lower and angrier, sending chills down Lena's back. She grits her teeth, "Lena, tell me who did this to you now, so I can kill them."

"Kara, this isn't you," she reaches forward to calm her down, but Kara starts pacing.

"The hell it isn't!" Kara exclaims, fists clenching at her sides. "My wife was beaten for all I know, and she's acting like it's just another day at the office!" she gestures at Lena, exasperatedly. "How would you expect me to act?"

Lena flinches at her tone.

Kara notices, because she always notices when Lena's in distress, and she deflates. "Lena, you're the love of my life, my person, and when you're hurt I can't help how I act. I'm sorry if I seem like I'm overreacting or if I'm yelling, but it's you." She walks back into her space and places her hands over Lena's face, thumbs lightly grazing her cheekbones, careful not to bump her wounds. "It's you," she whispers.

Lena swallows thickly, and when she speaks her voice is soft and afraid. "It was an accident."

"Did someone do this to you?" Kara's jaw clenches as she lets go. She doesn't stray far though, crossing her arms in front of her chest to try and calm down.

"Kara, no," Lena sighs, tears pooling in her eyes. "I...I did it to myself."

"What?" Kara's arms drop to her sides. "What are you talking about?"

"I was in a board meeting," she clears her throat. "Um...I was presenting a new prototype for...for," Lena shakes her head and frowns tensely. She rubs her eyes with tight fists and with a shaky breath, she cries, "Kara, I—I can't remember!"

Kara steps forward and grasps her hands. "Hey, it's okay. Take your time." She rubs soothing circles over her knuckles with her thumbs.

Lena takes a deep breath and tries again. "I was in a board meeting, and I vaguely recall getting a terrible migraine. Everything after that is fuzzy," she sniffles and takes her hands back to wipe her eyes. "Jess said I fell and hit my head on the table on the way down."

Kara inhales shakily, "What?"

"I had a seizure, I guess," she says it with a slight lilt at the end like it's a question she doesn't want answered. "Uh, it lasted about five minutes until the paramedics arrived. They said I was lucky I wasn't doing something else, like driving. It could've been a lot worse."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anyone call me?," Kara looks at her with pleading but sorrowful eyes.

"I didn't want you to worry."

"We promised each other, remember?" squeezes her hands. "For better or worse," she says with all the conviction she has. Kara kisses her knuckles and asks, "What did the doctors say?"

Lena sniffles and bows her head. "They ran all these tests on me, but couldn't find anything serious as to why I had a seizure. It could be any number of things, but they can't really do anything for me until I have another one," she looks up at her wife, lips wobbling.

"Kara, I'm scared," she whispers. "This is—" her words catch in her throat, and it's hard for her to breathe. "This is—my mom," she cries hysterically, covering her mouth with her hands, "This is how my mom died, she—she had a seizure while she was in the lake and she drowned. I can't—I can't believe this is—this is happening," she hiccups into another sob.

"Shhh," Kara envelops her in a hug and rubs soothing hands along her back. Lena bawls uncontrollably into her neck, hands gripped tightly to the back of Kara's shirt. "I'm so sorry, Lena," she kisses her on the head and murmurs into her hair, "We're gonna figure this out, I promise."

"What if I have what she had?" Lena questions, voice muffled and watery. "Kara...I don't wanna die," her mind begins to fill with thousands of different scenarios and she spirals into a panic, her whole body shaking, "I don't wanna die, Kara!"

"Honey, no," Kara hugs her tighter, as much as she can without harming her, then pulls back and kisses her on the forehead. She pointedly looks into her eyes when she says, "You're not dying. Okay? Not today, not anytime soon, alright?" Lena's face is red and splotchy. She tries to reign in control of her emotions, and she exhales a shaky breath while managing to give a slight nod. "Good. We'll figure out what's wrong with you, and if we can't do that here, then...we'll go to Argo. Their advances in science are way ahead of Earth's, and if that's not enough then I'll personally travel to other earths or other planets until I find a solution. You're not going anywhere if I have anything to say about it."

"Promise?"

Kara palms the underside of her jaw and rests their foreheads together, Lena's puffs of breath hitting her lips. "I promise," she presses their lips together in a chaste kiss and mumbles, "I love you." Kara kisses her again, "More than anything."

"I love you, too," Lena replies and buries her face in Kara's chest, her arms wrapped around her waist tight and what would be restricting if not for Kara’s invulnerable body. A calming minute passes for them in the aftermath of Lena's breakdown, when Lena quietly asks, "Is something burning?"

Lena feels her wife stiffen in her arms. "Shit!"

She pulls back and raises her eyebrows curiously, an amused glint in her eyes as she asks, "Did you just swear?"

Kara extracts herself from Lena's hold and stutters, "N-no, I said sh-sheet," she fumbles over to the stove and turns off the burner. Kara leans over the pot and frowns at the wreckage.

Lena chuckles with such fondness it's almost like their previous conversation has been forgotten. Kara beams at the sound, one of the reasons she fell in love with Lena in the first place; that girl can make laughter sound like music. Even her out-of-control snort laughs are adorable. At least to Kara's ears.

"There's no point in denying it, love, I heard you loud and clear," Lena smirks and joins her in the kitchen, poking her in the side. Kara squeals and feigns hurting by falling to the floor dramatically.

Lena playfully rolls her eyes and holds out her hand. "Baby, get up, the floor is a mess." Kara easily obeys and jumps to her feet with barely any help from Lena. "I married a weirdo," she shakes her head.

"Do you regret it?"

"Never," Lena states firmly. "You're my weirdo, forever."

"I like the sound of that," Kara blushes. Even after being married for five years, and knowing each other even longer, Lena still possesses the ability to fluster Kara on a daily basis.

"C'mon, let's order Chinese."

"You're speaking my language!" Kara kisses Lena on the nose and watches with pure affection as it scrunches. She grabs the takeout menu from the junk drawer before twining her fingers through Lena's and snuggling with her on the couch.

No matter her diagnosis, not matter the outcome, Lena will be more than okay with Kara by her side.

[kinkymagnus]

Any favorite headcanons about Malec (as a couple or the individual people) (kinky or non-kinky) I like thinking that a good part of the reason Magnus invented the portal, is because he has an atrocious sense of direction, and he used to get lost a lot, before he could just teleport to where he needed to be. (I know they say in the show that he invented the portal together with Lydia's ancestor, but I personally think that Henry Branwell just helped him to make an anchored portal version for shadowhunter institutes to use, and that Magnus made portals for magic users that could be summoned without anchoring them in place way before then.)

For Alec, I don't actually have that many hcs. I do like to think that he has a secret sweet tooth, that he hides away out of some mistaken belief that it would make him come across as immature. (which Magnus cures him of over time, and that may involve eating chocolate sauce off his body.)

hmmm i mean that's a really broad question 🤔 for one i'm in the "they're neurodivergent kings" camp. autism/adhd solidarity. and we all know magnus is trans 😌

also i will see literally any character i relate to and go "oh is anyone gonna make that touch-starved?" and not wait for an answer so uhhhh Touch Starved Magnus. like. especially just like. god. i feel like for a long time magnus is used to mainly two types of touch: violent (aggressive, often painful, whether it's someone actively trying to kill him or just getting between people fighting or whatever) and sexual (not inherently bad, but there's a certain dynamic of wanting something from him, and the only positive touch he really gets outside of certain situations is like. through a certain lens, when he's being a certain way, especially because i feel like he's a big people-pleaser in bed, and can be a selfless lover to the point of like, it not being as good for him, you know?) that's not to say his friends never touch him, ever, but for one, being immortal, it's not like they meet up as often as mortal friends might, and two, several of them just aren't particularly touchy people and he never wanted to cross any boundaries with them . anyway what im saying is he needs hugs real bad :(

(alec provides said hugs, but also like. as he starts healing from all this past trauma and stuff he gets better at expressing these things to non-alec people as well so like!!! also with his friends!!! who may not have even known this was a problem because he's so good at hiding his own issues!!!)

also good call on the portal thing. both for henry and magnus being, ah, directionally challenged. he's insanely competent at like 99 percent of the things he does but bless him he's so bad at finding his way around. adhd king, i repeat

(and yes, henry helping out but getting all the credit. naturally. shadowhunters, amiright? not henry necessarily, but the people who gave him all the credit.)

oh alec would be more than happy to lick sweet things off of magnus 👀

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 14.3k

Warnings: timeskip, mutual pining, author doesn’t know shit about science subject matter, explicit sexual content, ass play, snowballing, tooth rotting fluff A/N: This is it, y’all. This last part was so much fun to write, I can’t even put it into words. The feedback on this has been incredible, so a big thank you for that, and before anyone asks, I have a handful of spinoff oneshots planned for this series. Enjoy~

- NINE YEARS -

“Hey, don’t forget about the meeting at three.”

 Mike glances up from his computer to find Henning leaning through his office doorway. It’s the first time Mike has looked away from the screen in at least an hour, and he blinks at his colleague several times in an attempt to get rid of the gritty feeling in his eyes.

 “Yeah, thanks,” he nods, rubbing a hand down his face. “Definitely would’ve forgotten about that one.”

 Henning leaves with one rap of his knuckles against the doorframe, and Mike checks his phone to see how much time he has before he has to make his way to the conference room. It’s twenty after two, so he spends a little while longer reading over the journal that had been sent to him, only tearing himself away when his alarm goes off at 2:55. 

 He waves at a few people as he passes, shows the reserved smile he’d mastered upon entering the corporate world, then walks into the large meeting space and sets his little notepad on the mahogany table as he sits down in a plush rolling chair. 

 This meeting has been planned for a few weeks now, a team of researchers contracted by the government to study Lake Sina and everything wrong with it. Its water quality is at an all time low, and it's up to Mike and his team to figure out a way to change that so it can be purified enough to distribute to the public. There are a few large cities close to the lake, all of lower income and all struggling with their water systems. If Sina can get clean enough, it would solve a huge crisis that most people don't even know is taking place. 

 Tomas, Henning, Lynne, and Nanaba are already in the room, and after a few minutes, another group of four walks in, all unfamiliar except…

 Mike’s eyebrows knit together as he stares. He can only see a profile from where he’s sitting, but it’s one he recognizes. The time he spent admiring it, mentally sketching every feature—of course he’d recognize it. Recognize you.

 There is a pounding in his chest that Mike hasn’t felt in years, and his palms are suddenly damp. The collar of his shirt is too tight around his throat, and he reaches up to undo the top two buttons so that he can fucking breathe, but Jesus Christ, he can’t believe it. It feels like a lifetime has passed since he last saw you. 

 He wonders if you’ll have the same reaction when you finally notice him, if you’ll gawk at him or grin or run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you tucked tail. That last conversation—if it could even be called that—is not one of Mike’s fondest memories, and he can’t imagine the toll it took on you, what you must have felt going into your final year of undergrad. 

 “Is there a remote for the projector?” You call out to the table, and your voice sounds exactly the fucking same. It makes Mike want to slam his head into the wood, but before he can, you zero in on him. 

 He watches as your eyes grow, jaw setting, shoulders rising with a deep breath, and oh, you’re panicking. You’re panicking just like he is.

 “Um,” you cough and shake your head, then lean over to speak to one of your people before basically jogging from the room.

 No one seems to think anything of it. Mike has to white-knuckle the arms of his chair to keep himself from getting up and following. There's no reason he should follow, though. The two of you haven’t spoken in almost a decade. He has nothing to share with you, no reason to talk to you on a non-professional level. You don’t know each other anymore, and that’s fine. It’ll be fine. 

 A mousy looking man starts passing out little binders to everyone at the table, then introduces himself as Moblit and the other two in the room as Hange and Abel. 

 "And, the other girl you saw is—"

 "I'm back, I'm here," you announce as you step into the room, closing the door behind you and introducing yourself with a wave. "Did we get the projector working?" 

 "Yes," Abel answers, passing you the remote that Nanaba had procured a few minutes ago. 

 Hange plugs a cable into a laptop and the white screen is lit up with the image of the well known lake, once beautiful, deep blue but now a murky brown. 

 Mike has been preparing for this project for a few months now, going to an off-site lab to look over the samples being sent in or dropped off. He knew there was a research team studying the lake, but… what are the odds that you would be part of that team? 

 He supposes your jobs could overlap just like your classes used to, but you had told him you wanted to go into natural hazards ("You're a natural hazard," he had replied with a snort). Of course, that had been a long time ago, but how had that dream morphed into hydrology? 

 Before the presentation starts, Mike's boss, Keith Shadis slips through the door and takes his seat at the end of the table. You're quick to grab one of the binders and walk it over to him, flashing a smile and never letting your gaze flit to Mike. 

 Hange does most of the talking, going over all of your findings while all of you "braved the wilderness". Moblit and Abel insert a few things here and there, and then Hange clicks to a slide with a graph on it and hands the remote to you. 

 "If you turn to page seventeen in the binders, you can probably get a better look, but this shows how much the level of pollution in Lake Sina has risen in the last year alone. We took samples over…"

 You keep talking, but Mike loses his focus, watching your hands move as you speak, the way you're rocking back on your heels, and how you look anywhere but at him. 

 Even though there's a tiny tremble in your voice, you sound passionate, and why wouldn't you be? Mike is passionate too. About the same god damn thing. 

 With a PhD in environmental science, his specialty is pollutants. It's something he's been interested in since grad school because the earth is beautiful but in an awful state, and Mike wants to fucking change that. He's written journals and articles, worked with leading experts, and it's what he's decided to dedicate himself to, so why is it that this life that he's built for himself is suddenly intermingling with yours? How—

 A hand comes to rest on Mike's and he startles at the touch, jerking his head upward to see Lynne with raised eyebrows. 

 "Mike, I get why you're lost in the pollution sauce, but if you click that pen one more time, I will throw you out of this high-rise."

 He stares at her for a second before chuckling and tossing his pen onto his blank notebook. He hadn't even realized he'd been doing it. It's a little embarrassing, actually. How many people noticed? Did you? 

 The presentation ends with Hange telling everyone that they're happy to be teaming up with the Corporation to work toward a solution and a plan to clean Lake Sina and possibly implement it into larger bodies of water.

 The planning stage of the project will more than likely last for a few months, meaning you'll all be regulars in the office which Mike isn't especially thrilled about, even if you will be sequestered in a little annex and spending a lot of your time in the lab. Mike will still have to see you and work with your team, god, probably have to talk to you. 

 The floor opens up for any questions, but Shadis is the only one who speaks, wanting clarification on some statistic that Mike is going to have to read over later. Once the boss is happy, he stands, then walks behind Mike's chair to slap him on the back and say the last thing Mike wants to hear.

 "This is Dr. Mike Zacharias. All of you should get familiar with him since he'll be heading this project."

 Mike sits up a little straighter and forces a tight-lipped smile that all of his colleagues know is fake. 

 "Happy to be working with you." 

 It isn't a lie. He's been excited about this project for a long time now. He just wasn't expecting such a massive wrench to get thrown right into the middle of it. 

 The four of you start packing up your materials. When Henning tries to hand you his binder, you tell him, "No, those are for you to keep. Just to get a real grasp on what we found out there."

 Mike knows he's staring, swiveling back and forth in his chair, twirling the pen he's picked up again, and he wonders if it would just be easier to rip the bandaid off. Exchange hellos, go over the bare minimum—how long he's been with the company, how long you've been researching. Just enough to appear casual, like you didn't break Mike's fucking heart in college. 

 And, then he thinks about just avoiding you altogether. There's always the chance your issues could come up in conversation, and it's so far in the past now, there's nothing either of you can say to make the other feel better. This can't be about closure. It's just a job. That's all. 

 "Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

 Mike's vision unfogs, and he glances around to find that yes, you're the only two left in the conference room. Fantastic. 

 You're wrapping a cord around your elbow then shoving it in a laptop bag, and he can tell you're moving as fast as you can, ready to get the fuck out of there. 

 "Uh, yeah," Mike agrees, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing his notebook to curl in his hands. "Everyone's just ready to get back to work, I guess."

 "Yeah. You can only hold someone's attention with a PowerPoint for so long."

 Mike's mouth is too dry, and it feels like he needs to cough, but he doesn't want to startle you, so he just quietly clears his throat in an entirely ineffective way and tells you, "Good PowerPoint, though."

 You snicker, not loud enough to hear your real laugh, and Mike doesn't know if he's grateful for that or not. 

 "Thanks. Mobs made it."

 Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you finally look up at Mike—really look at him for the first time—and he sees your expression go soft, mouth twitching like you’re caught between smiling and frowning, and Mike is taken back to the first night he met you when he wanted you to shotgun that disgusting beer. 

 You blink at him, open and close your mouth, and Mike is waiting with baited breath for you to say something else, but all you do is hold your hand out for him to take the projector remote from you. 

 "Here."

 He grabs it with two fingers, careful not to brush your hand. Fuck, he wishes his heart would stop beating so hard, it's incredibly uncomfortable. 

 "I feel like I should say something," you murmur, "But I have no idea what, so I'm just gonna tell you I look forward to working with you, Dr. Zacharias."

 He grins. Widely. He doesn't mean to, but he does. It's been so damn long since anyone has said his last name like that. 

 "Do you, though?" He asks. 

 "Do I what?"

 "Look forward to working here."

 "Oh, uh…" You bite your lip, start rocking on your feet again, then shrug. "I guess? I mean… Big project."

 "Very big."

 "It's important to me. I can't say that I was expecting—"

 "Me?" Mike offers with a tilt of his head. 

 He's standing too close. It feels like he is, anyway, so he moves back to lean against the conference table. 

 "Yeah, pretty much," you laugh. "It's been a while."

 Mike wonders if you remember that night as well as he does. No matter how much he's tried to forget it, that image of you with fat years rolling down your face just will not leave him. Do you remember how it felt? Can you remember everything he said to you? 

 Before Mike can respond, you wave a hand. "Anyway, I need to go help set up our little area, so…"

 "Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

 After powering through the last hour of his day, Mike bolts from the building. He needs to get home. He needs to get a drink in his hand. He needs to unwind and not think of you. 

 He needs to fucking call Erwin. 

 "Hey, bro, what's up?" 

 "Dude," is all Mike says at first. 

 "What?" 

 "You will never fucking guess who's on the team we’re working with on the Sina water project."

 Erwin hums in a sing-song sort of way, then chuckles. "Funny, I got a similar call about an hour ago."

 "You guys still talk?" Mike asks a little too loudly. 

 "Yeah, man. Not every day or anything, but—"

 Mike rolls his eyes. "You're unbelievable." He isn't mad, and Erwin knows this. He's just a little surprised. His friend hasn’t as much as uttered your name in the last ten years. 

 "Yeah, whatever. How'd it go from your perspective?" 

 "It—Wait, what did she say?" 

 "Oh, no no no," Erwin laughs. Mike here's a distant, "Hold that, please!" and figures he's making his way to the elevator to leave work as well. "I am not getting caught up in your bullshit again."

 Pouting, Mike finally turns on his car and pulls out of the parking lot. "Fine. It went… Well? I think? I mean, super awkward, but that isn't surprising."

 "No name-calling or confessions of undying love?" 

 "No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

 "Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts. 

 "Fuck off. It was a good presentation, but she was nervous, and I couldn't tell if it was from having to speak in front of people or if it was 'cause I was there, and then we talked afterward—nothing important or anything, just, like, an acknowledgement. You know, you're here, I'm here, we have to find a way to co-exist, except neither of us actually said that," Mike has to take a deep breath. He's rambling, he knows, and Erwin is just listening, probably storing it all away to make fun of him about it later. "It was okay. It could've been worse."

 "Could have been better too."

 "What? How—"

 "Could have bent her over the desk and—"

 "Dude!"

 Erwin breaks into that deep laugh Mike is so used to, tells him, "I'm just saying! I know she's still cute. We have each other on Facebook."

 He's right. Too right. You are absolutely still cute, all dressed up in business casual attire, so different from the leggings and hoodies you used to wear. Your face has matured slightly—naturally—and your hair is different but still suits you. Mike has no idea how he's supposed to work with you for the next few months. 

 "I can't deal with you," Mike grumbles. "Why did I even call you?" 

 "Probably because I'm the only one who has an inkling about what you're going through right now," Erwin replies. "Aside from her anyway."

 "Yeah, yeah."

 They chat for a little while longer until Erwin gets to the bar he's apparently meeting some coworkers at, and Mike spends the rest of his drive listening to music too loud as he tries and fails to clear his mind of you. 

 *

 You're pacing. You have been for the last hour. The food you made for yourself went cold some time ago, but you're too busy whining into your phone to notice. 

 "Just—like—what the fuck am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to work with him like this? He's overseeing the whole fucking project! I can't just avoid him!" 

 "Okay, first thing's first," Hitch stops you. "I need you to take a deep breath for me."

 "Hitch—"

 "Breathe!"

 You inhale through your nose then blow out through your mouth, but that's obviously not good enough for Hitch because she demands, "And, again."

 "What are you, my therapist?" 

 "I mean, I usually act like one, so… anyway, while you're calming the fuck down, I'm gonna call for backup. Hold please."

 Dropping yourself onto the hotel couch, you try to relax even though you know it'll be impossible because—

 "You're working with Mike?" Rhi's shrill voice meets your ear, and you have to pull the phone away. 

 "Rhi, you're supposed to help me calm her down, not add to her panic," Hitch reminds her. 

 "Yeah, no, that's not gonna happen," Rhi tells her, and you laugh to yourself. 

 "Agreed."

 "Okay, so tell me what happened. Oh my god, did you cry? Did he cry? What'd Erwin say when you told him? You told him, right?" 

 You've gotten used to Rhi's rapid fire inquiries a long time ago, so you have no problem answering, "We walked in for the big Sina presentation today, and he was just there, and I was freaking out, so Hange had to do most of the work but still made me go over my findings 'cause I understand them better than they do, but anyway. I don't think he was paying attention at fucking all which is cool 'cause I wouldn't have been either, and then we talked for a second afterward, but there were no tears. There was almost vomit 'cause I felt like I needed to throw up, but I kept it together. I think."

 "Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?" 

 You snicker to yourself. "He made fun of me for a little while and then he told me to talk to Mike once I calmed down just to catch up and then to—this is verbatim, by the way—to possibly have dirty sex in Mike's office."

 Both of your friends howl, Hitch being the first to gather herself enough to giggle, "He fucking would say that, oh my god, I hate him."

 "Same," Rhi drawls. "Okay, but is there the possibility of dirty office sex?"

 "Wha—That's what you're taking away from all that?" You splutter. 

 "Uh, yeah."

 "I'm kinda curious too," Hitch pipes up. 

 You wave your free hand around in confusion and tell them, "I—we—no! We don't even know each other anymore. We said, like, four words to each other today, and it was fucking weird, so no. Pervs."

 "Do you want to, though? Has he aged well?" Hitch asks in a low, sultry voice. 

 You click your tongue and pause, not wanting the first thought that pops into your head to be what comes out of your mouth because yes, holy shit, yes, Mike looks so fucking good. It was one of many reasons you were so tongue-tied in front of him. 

 He's still impossibly tall and broad, but in slacks and a button up. The beard he’s always had is short and rugged and a tad darker than the hair on top of his head that he's let grow out long enough to tie in a bun, and it fits him too well. You thought you were gonna start drooling on his fancy shoes. 

 "He's alright," you play. They see right through you, falling into another long fit of laughter until you admit, "Okay, okay, he's still stupid hot, alright?" 

 "God bless. I'm so happy to hear that. I'm so happy for you."

 "Why would you—"

 "Just promise you'll invite us to the wedding."

 "I think you guys are getting a little ahead of yourselves."

 "Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

 "And, Maddie."

 You shake your head as the other two start going back and forth, talking about you like you're not even there, bringing up college memories, old parties you'd all gone to. 

 "Hey, remember when you hated me?" Rhi questions, and both of you snort. 

 "And, you hated me right back. Stole your man or whatever."

 Hitch mutters a quiet, "Ew, fuck that guy."

 And, Rhi picks up, "Yeah, fuck that all-American, record-breaking pitcher."

 The three of you talk well into the evening, eventually switching to Zoom so that you can all see each other and add Maddie and Marie into the call. You and Hitch break open bottles of wine, but Rhi and Maddie don't drink, "Solidarity with this pregnant bitch," Maddie says, and Marie lifts her glass of water to cheers via internet. 

 Sophomore and junior year of college, you never would have expected to get close to anyone other than Hitch, but through a few shared classes and petty curiosity, all of you ended up seeking solace in one another and came out on the other side as best friends. Hitch was even Maid of Honor in Marie and Nile's wedding. Against all odds, everything turned out pretty wholesome. 

 "I genuinely hope it works out," Hitch says now, words long, lazy, and starting to slur together "Like, even if it's just you and Mike making up and being, like, cool with each other again."

 "Hitch, you're drunk, please go to bed."

 "I am drunk. But, I still mean what I said. I miss when you guys were just best friends."

 "Why?" You question with a head shake. 

 Hitch sighs, "'Cause you were so happy."

 "No, I—"

 "I mean, you were still all… weird and guarded, but that dude made you laugh and smile so much."

 "I daresay I even saw you giddy on a couple of occasions," Marie hums. 

 "Whatever. I just want it to be… not awkward."

 "Then, talk."

 "Mm, pass."

 *

 A light knock on the wall of the impressively large cubicle gets your whole team's attention, all of you glancing up to find Mike standing in the little entryway, hands in his pockets.

 "Hey, just checkin' in. Have you all gotten settled?" 

 "Yes!" Hange is up on their feet. "Great accommodations, and that lab you guys use?" They moan, and you can tell Mike is trying not to laugh because his mouth is twisting to one side like it always does when he tries to appear unaffected by something. However, you know well that it is very hard to remain unaffected by Hange Zoe. 

 "Yeah, we haven't had a lab that shiny in a long time," Moblit chuckles. 

 "Don't you work in government buildings?" Mike frowns. 

 "You ever seen the inside of a post office?" You question, immediately regretting it when those light green eyes land on you. 

 "Uh, yeah?" 

 Smirking through the butterflies, you tell him, "Those are government buildings too."

 "Don't mind her. She's just being a smartass," Abel says.

 Mike is really fighting that smile now. Even pinched to one side, you can see the way his lips are trying to curve upward, and you have to bite yours and look at the floor before you start acting like a god damn school girl. 

 It's nearing the end of the first week at your new location. It hasn't been terrible, and some of the strangeness is beginning to wear off, but it's still jarring to see Mike walk around or hear his voice carrying through his office door. 

 Neither of you have gone out of your way to talk to one another. Anything project related, Hange handles for the most part, and if anything is delegated to you, you try to pass it off to Abel because you're just not ready to be alone in a room with Mike. Your brain and your heart can't take it yet. 

 You can't deny that you're curious, though. You wonder what his life is like now, what his job is like outside of what you've seen (which, admittedly, is not much), what he does in his free time now, who he spends his time with. You couldn't help but notice (you made a point of looking) that there isn't any type of ring on his finger which is pretty fucking surprising since, well, Mike has always been a catch. How has someone not come around and swiped him off the market? Or, does he just not wear a wedding band at work? Or, does he just have a girlfriend and is waiting to take the next step? So many questions you have no business asking.

 Mike hums, rubs at something probably nonexistent on the carpet with the toe of his shoe, and mumbles a little, "Nothin’ I haven't dealt with before," that makes everyone look at him curiously. "With co-workers, you know. Lotta sass in the office."

 You stifle a laugh and stand up. There are a lot of sassy things you could say, but you figure none of them are actually appropriate, especially since Mike is technically your boss now—why is that so hot?—so you just slip out of the cubicle, doing your best to not brush up against Mike. He apparently doesn't care, though, because while he moves to the side, he does the thing that all men do, placing a hand on the small of your back as if to guide you past him, and it makes you burn. 

 "'scuse me," you squeak, relieved to be able to run to the restroom where you can sit in a stall and scream to Hitch through texts. 

 You are dying—mostly because you don't know what you want. Do you want to be friends? Do you want to seduce him? Do you want another nine years away from him? You have no idea. 

 You were sad for a long time after that holiday break. You trudged through your spring courses, took more classes in the Summer, then started all over. Hitch had to physically drag you out of your tiny apartment a few times but never to any parties, thank god. Just to lunch or the library, and eventually, Rhi, Marie, and Maddie came into the picture. Further into the picture, anyway. 

 While they got you laughing again, though, that ache didn't ever fade. Mike's words replayed in your head in a constant loop, day and night for months. I can’t do this anymore. Start fresh. Shouldn’t be hard for you. You were mad at yourself for a long time, for ruining everything and hurting him. If you could have gone back to the start of it all and done things differently, you would have, but you just had to sit with all your mistakes instead. 

 Then, your anger shifted toward him. Because you weren't the only one who messed up. You may have been the first one to, but he did some shitty things too. He's the one who didn't care even after finding out it was Zeke who blocked his number. He's the one who refused to believe that you and Erwin weren't actually a couple. He's the one who brought Rhi to the ranch house with the specific intention of hurting your feelings (and to wet his dick). 

 And, he's the one who didn't want to work things out. 

 You understand his frustration. You broke his heart, after all. But then, he turned around and broke yours too. 

 It was nine years ago, and you've moved on. You've dated people since then. You've fallen in and out of love. Mike wasn't even on your radar until Monday, but now… Now, there's no forgetting him. Old wounds get jabbed every time he peeks around the corner, any time you hear him laugh or see him smile, and when he actually looks at you, fuck, it's like someone is ripping stitches out of your skin.

 It is not a productive work environment. 

 Your team hasn't noticed much other than Moblit asking what has you so tense these days, but no one has made any connections, and you'd like to keep it that way. Hange would have a fucking field day if they found out. 

 There are many meetings to toss around ideas, plans and blueprints that get scrapped. You stumble through presentations, trying not to look directly at anyone as your cheeks heat up and your hands shake. 

 "You've never been nervous about stuff like this," Abel tells you in the conference room one day as everyone else files out. "What's up with you?" 

 "Nothing," you shake your head. "Don't worry about it."

 "Nothing my ass," he grumbles, walking out without you. 

 "You really should try to relax," Mike tells you from where he's still sitting at the table. "No idea why you're so nervous."

 Everyone else is gone which means you're free to squint at him, scathing retort on the tip of your tongue, but when you see that he's smirking at you, the words dry up. 

 "Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

 "I'm not playing anything," he tells you. "But, I do need to know how long we're gonna keep up this I don't know you-you don't know me thing."

 "You literally just said—..." Taking a deep breath, you look over your shoulder to, one, form a coherent sentence in your brain, and two, make sure no one is close enough to hear it when you say, "What would you prefer we do? Not like we can just pick up where we left off. Unless, you know, you wanna go back to being incredibly fucking pissed at me for months on end."

 "Man, you really are tense about this," Mike chuckles, and you're torn between slapping him and jumping his bones, so you do neither. Fuck, why'd he have to wear the purple tie today? It looks so good with his complexion and complements his eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from the bun at the back of his head, and he shakes them out of his face like he used to shake his shaggy bangs, and all you can do is stare and squirm and tell him, "I have to go."

 "Go where?" He asks, standing from his chair. It feels like he towers over you even from across the table. 

 You hold your hands out and gesticulate a little frantically, "I don't know—work? Maybe?"

 He's extremely amused, even laughs as you make your way out the door, then calls, "Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know! You know where my office is."

 "I don't wanna talk!"

 You really don't. But, you also really do. 

 *

 Mike starts having fun with his new department (you specifically) around the third week. 

 He's never seen you like this before, having to mentally prepare yourself before you walk into any room, like you have to be ready for him. You nibble on your lip and rock on your heels. Your hands shake in meetings when you have to point to pictures or graphs. 

 It’s just so unlike you. He got so used to the surly, uncaring girl in college, never happy to see Mike until you gave him a fair chance (and decided you enjoyed his cock). He expects everything to come out of your mouth to be sarcastic or suggestive, and when it's not, it takes him off guard.  

 Mike is nervous around you too. He can easily admit that. But, his neverending panic really just manifests in the form of nausea and heart palpitations which he thinks is better than trembling and stuttering, but it's still mildly distracting. 

 Every once in a while, he catches a glimpse of that old side of you, though, a mumbled smartass remark or an unimpressed expression, and he has to make a conscious effort to not grin like an idiot because he's still trying to decipher his actual feelings. 

 Is he supposed to act like nothing ever happened, or should he hold a grudge? What seems more natural? What feels more natural? 

 Mike knows the answer to that last question, but he hasn't fully accepted it. 

 "It's kinda cute, actually. Like, I walk into the room and she gets this little doe-eyed expression. Looks like she's about to run away."

 "You're kind of a sadist, you know that?" Erwin says. 

 "I mean, is it so wrong to get a little satisfaction outta this?" 

 "I think so, yeah. You're driving her crazy, dude."

 Mike smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. "Man, how would you know—"

 "'Cause she told me!" Erwin basically shouts like it's obvious. "The words came out of her mouth. Mike is driving me crazy. Just like that."

 Pouting, Mike takes another sip of his beer and lets his eyes travel to the bottom of the TV screen to check the score of the game he isn't watching. 

 "Well, it's not like I can really do anything about it. She'll only be here for a few months."

 "Do you happen to know how long it takes for a stomach ulcer to form?" Erwin asks. 

 Mike frowns. "Uh, no?" 

 "Well, neither do I, but I'm pretty sure it's not very long."

 Both of them laugh. Mike mutters something about Erwin being fucking stupid, and then Erwin sighs and speaks, "I am begging you, dude. Please just get a fucking drink with her or something."

 "We don't mix well with alcohol," Mike snarks. 

 "What's the worst that could happen—you end up in bed again?"

 "Well—"

 "Honestly, both of you could probably benefit from a good fuck, but what do I know? I'm just the guy both of you call for this shit."

 "Alright, I get it. I'll… see if she's up for something," Mike mumbles. 

 "I mean, I wouldn't open with sex, maybe start off with lunch or…"

 "I'm hanging up now."

 Mike doesn't actually know how to ask you, though. You're so fucking skittish around him, and you're obviously worried about people finding out you have a history, so he's gonna have to be strategic about it, maybe plant the seed a few days before or—

 "Hey, listen…" You appear in Mike's office doorway, long cardigan falling to your knees and swishing behind you even after you've stopped moving. "I know it's almost five, but I'm, like, right in the middle of mapping out a new plan, and I don't wanna lose steam, so is it cool if I stay late?" 

 "Yeah, I don't care," Mike answers, tacking on, "S'long as you're okay with being here late with me."

 "Oh, th-that's—" you splutter for a little while, and Mike raises his eyebrows. "That's n-not necessary. You don't have to, like, supervise me or anything."

 "I'm not supervising you," Mike snorts. "I'm trying to finish my piece for a journal."

 "Ah, right, that's… yes." You shoot off a half-hearted finger gun, and Mike wants to hop his desk to get to you. There you are. There are your dumb fucking mannerisms, please, just act like yourself, for the love of god. 

 "Okay, well if you need me, uh, I will probably be on the floor in the annex, so…"

 "We do have chairs, ya' know," Mike smirks. 

 "Yeah, but it's easier to just spread everything out so I can see it."

 "Want a corkboard? You can make it look like you're doing a murder investigation."

 "Hmm, might make it look more official," you muse, making a face of contemplation. 

 Before you can actually say yes, Mike pipes up again. "I don't actually have a corkboard. It was a joke."

 "Yeah, I know," you snicker. "Wouldn't be big enough anyway."

 Too many responses flood Mike's brain at once, causing him to bite his tongue because every last one of them is gross, but you must be able to read it on his face because you point and tell him, "Stop."

 "I didn't say anything!" He laughs. 

 "You don't have to. I know."

 Mike rolls his eyes, "Okay," and looks back to his computer, hoping the screen is high enough to hide his grin as you turn and walk away. 

 The next hour is spent editing the same paragraph over and over with no real motivation because everyone has vacated the floor except for you and Mike, and this could be a good time to talk to you, but he also doesn't want to disrupt your work. Just because he can't focus doesn't mean you can't. You'd only get upset if he distracted you from your work anyway—it's happened before—redirecting your attention from a textbook or study guide to… other things. 

 He goes down a rabbit hole, reminiscing on those occasions, then tweaking them just a little to fit into the current setting, and it's the absolute last thing Mike should be thinking about, but it's Friday, and you're slightly more casual in your flowy cardigan and tight jeans, and all he wants is to get one teeny tiny look at your ass in them because he knows your it’s perfect. He's seen it in leggings and cheeky little boy shorts and lacy thongs, and there is absolutely no way he can go out to talk to you now. 

 Also, he really needs to write at least one paragraph before leaving tonight. It's all about water and waste and pollutants which is the shit Mike knows like the back of his hand. He'd just rather have said hands on something else. 

 "Yeah, this isn't gonna happen," he mutters to himself, taking his hair down to scratch at his scalp. He's better off just going home. 

 Mike packs a few things up before stepping out of his office, closing and locking the door behind him. Half the lights are off, but the portion over the annex is shining brightly. Mike stares in that direction as he debates telling you he's leaving or bolting without saying anything. 

 It's the thought of you walking out to your car alone that makes his mind up, and Mike saunters to the annex and finds you on hands knees surrounded by several sketches, crumpled notes, and the set of blueprints that Mike is pretty sure got thrown in the recycling on Tuesday. 

 "Where'd you even find those?" 

 You don't look up when you answer, "Recycling comes every Monday."

 "So, you went… dumpster diving?" 

 Lifting your head, you squint up at Mike, tracking him as he squats on the other side of your organized chaos. 

 "Is it dumpster diving if it's all paper?" 

 Mike shrugs. "Dunno. How's it comin'?"

 "I'm comi—It!" You correct a little too loudly. "It's coming! It's coming along just fine."

 "Yeah?" Mike chuckles. "Cute Freudian slip there."

 "It was not—" You grit your teeth, fingers curling on the papers they're resting on, then question, "Did you need something?"

 "Just came by to say I was leaving," Mike tells you. Something catches his eye, though, some of your notes scribbled just big enough for him to read a few of the words from where he is, and he grabs the sheet to look it over more carefully. 

 Irrigation plans, specialized pumps, introducing new life into the lake, specifically filter fish…

 "I was just vomiting ideas out on paper, it's nothing important."

 Mike hums and reads further. Some of it is familiar because Mike has considered some of these himself, but while your engineering thoughts are a little vague, the ideas that lean more toward the biological side of things are pretty interesting, even if they're just sloppy bullet points and arrows. 

 "You wanna vomit on a person instead?" He asks, chuckling at the look you give him. 

 "Ew."

 "Just spitball. Throw it at me."

 "Oh, I'm gonna throw somethin' at you all right."

 Mike slips his bag from his shoulder and sets it down before sitting on the ground, picking up the papers closest to him. 

 "Tell me about the xylem tissue method," he prompts. 

 You don't speak right away, just chew on your lip while staring at the sketches on the ground, but then you nod and sit back on your heels. 

 "So, we know that white pine trees are a natural means of filtering, but there aren't any around here. I know it's more of a long-term plan, but we can't just go with a temporary fix, so I was thinking—"

 Mike listens. To everything. Everything you can think of. He watches too. You rub your hands over your jeans and flick hair from your eyes. You change positions, sitting on one foot while resting your chin on your knee as you think out loud, then move to sit cross-legged only to get up to pace the length of the cubicle, barefoot since your heels were kicked off long ago. 

 He asks questions or makes suggestions here and there, and soon it isn't just you who's brainstorming.

 It's easy. It's what Mike knows, and it's obviously what you know too, and a couple of hours pass before either of you realize it. 

 "Shit, it's almost ten," you state, looking at your phone. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you here so late."

 "It's fine. Wouldn't have stayed if I didn't want to."

 Mike stretches as he stands, twisting to crack his back and rolling his neck. You gather up all the papers, straightening them into a neat pile then putting them in a drawer at the bottom of your desk. 

 You walk out together, still chatting in the elevator and out to the parking lot, and Mike feels good. He feels like… He feels like he did in college. 

 "Please tell me that is not your car," you say, eyeing the boxy, white Mercedes that is, in fact, Mike's. 

 "What of it?" 

 "These fucking Jeeps are so ugly, I cannot believe—"

 "Uh, it's not a Jeep. It's a g-wagon, thank you."

 You roll your eyes. "I liked your Wrangler better."

 "I bet you fuckin' did," he mumbles, too lost in the memory of you riding him in said Wrangler to think about how you might take the comment. 

 "It was easier on the eyes," you explain. 

 "It was a frat boy car."

 "You were a frat boy!" 

 "And, now I'm a professional."

 "Are you, though?" You tease, expression skeptical save for your tiny smirk. 

 "Most of the time."

 The only other vehicle in the lot is a Land Rover, considerably larger than the little hatchback you used to drive but very fitting for someone in your line of work. Mike thinks about mentioning that it's basically the same as his Mercedes, just not as expensive and with rounder edges, but he knows you'll just get indignant and defensive. 

 He walks you over to your car, and you don't question it, just open the passenger side and throw your bag inside. 

 This is your chance, Mike realizes. Just ask. Ask her to go somewhere else and talk about something other than work.

 "Hey, uh, do you wanna grab a drink or something?" He tries, heartbeat picking up once again. His eyes are a little too wide as you regard him carefully, studying him like one of your samples.

 Then, you shake your head. 

 "No, Mike. I don't wanna grab a drink." His stomach opens up, the heat that comes with embarrassment creeping up his neck. 

 "Oh, sorry, I just—"

 "But, there's a breakfast place close to the extended stay they put us up in. I've been wanting to check it out."

 And, like that, his hope is restored. Hope for what, Mike doesn't know, but it's certainly there, blooming in his chest like unkempt wildflowers. 

 "Yeah?" 

 You nod. "Yeah. I'm still not really a morning person, but d'you wanna meet there at, like, ten or so?" 

 "Tomorrow?" 

 "I mean, if that works for you."

 "Yeah!" Mike clears his throat, lowers his voice so that he sounds a little less excited. "I'm usually up and moving by eight."

 "God, why do you hate yourself?" You cringe. 

 "I've always been an early riser."

 "Not from what I remember."

 Mike leans against your rover, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, maybe not when I was kept up into the early morning hours, but usually I was up before everyone else."

 You post up across from him, one hand on your hip, and Mike realizes this is gonna go on for some time. 

 "Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

 He's fine with that. He'll stand out here talking with you until the sun comes up if you'll let him. And, maybe after that too. 

 *

 Breakfast is good. Breakfast is safe. Breakfast is the start of the day and free of alcohol. There is nothing suggestive about breakfast. 

 Except breakfast has become a habit. For the last three Saturdays you’ve sat at the little cafe next to your hotel talking with Mike for at least an hour. You’re kind of getting to know him again, but most of the conversation consists of stupid jokes or blatant deflections. 

 His parents are still doing well, both in their sixties now, but Scout, unfortunately passed away a few years ago. Hearing it makes your eyes burn, and watching Mike’s face fall actually makes you wipe at your own rapidly forming tears. 

 He still keeps in touch with several of his frat brothers—Erwin (obviously), Nile, Gelgar, and some of the younger kids, Jean, Marco, and Connie.

 “Yeah, I’m actually pretty close to Marie now,” you tell him. “And, Maddie, and Rhi.”

 “Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

 “Yeah,” you laugh. “Bonded over the woes of college boys.”

 “Didn’t see that coming.”

 “Neither did I, honestly.”

 Working with him is easier now. The ice has been broken. The boundaries have been set even if they are unspoken. You still do your best not to touch him at all, never stand too close or brush against him in any way, but you’ve loosened up a lot, and your team seems to appreciate it. Unfortunately, they also start to notice the way you light up a little too much whenever you’re around Mike, and naturally, Hange just had to comment on it a few days ago. 

 “You have a crush on the bossman or somethin’?”

 “What? No. We just work well together, I guess.”

 You do not tell Mike about this exchange, in fear of him prying. Well, do you have a crush on the bossman? You’re not ready for that, probably never will be. 

 There are a few breakthroughs in the Sina project. The research team gets extra funding to run more trials, and you start to stay late more often, sometimes in the tower with everyone else and sometimes in the lab. Things are progressing nicely. 

 Eventually, breakfast turns to lunch, lunch turns to dinner, and then you find yourself in Mike’s apartment, sitting at his kitchen table while he cooks.

 “So, we talk every once in a while now, but it’s usually really awkward. Like, I still don’t ever know what to say to him.”

 “Do you find it weird that he reached out in the first place?”

 “Kind of? When I was younger, I always hoped he would, but now that he has, I almost wish he hadn’t. Does that make sense?”

 Mike shrugs as he pours noodles into a strainer over the sink. “I mean, he’s your dad, so yeah, it makes sense. What he did was super shitty, but I figure it’s hard to forget the good times and just abandon all hope.”

 “Yeah. On the bright side, he sends my brother money for commissary, like, every week, so that’s nice.”

 It took a little while, but you’ve let yourself open up to Mike much easier this time around. Whether it’s because you already know you can trust him or because you’ve gotten the closure you needed for so long, you’re not sure. You just know it’s been easy. 

 Unfortunately, with vulnerability comes feelings, and you are having a lot of those. Too many. You’re glad that it’s not debilitating dread and nervousness now, but the overwhelming affection isn’t any less distracting.

 Watching Mike move around his kitchen, though—clad in a t-shirt, faded jeans, and the dish towel thrown over his shoulder, you are painfully reminded of why you got so attached all those years ago. 

 It isn’t fair. You really didn’t want to fall back into this hole. You knew it was a possibility as soon as you saw him at that first meeting, but you were trying to put it off until you had to leave. 

 Because that’s the plan. You come in. You complete the project, get them started on a long-term plan for the lake, then head back to your home facility and wait for another job to be assigned. You can’t just stay here, even if the idea gets a little more tempting every day. 

 You’re just friends, though, just spending time together because it’s familiar. It’s nice being back on the same page, just letting the past stay there.

 “So, it’s been about two months,” Mike starts, and something about his tone makes your stomach drop. “I feel like that’s an appropriate amount of time to wait before finally addressing the elephant in the room.”

 So much for letting the past stay there. 

 Groaning, you rub your hands down your face. “Do we really have to?” Of course he would want to talk about it now that you’re comfortable.

 “I really think we do.”

 “Mike, that was so long ago. I was a dumb fucking kid. What do you need to know other than that?”

 He braces himself on his counter, face serious. “Nothin’ really. I just want you to know that I was a dumb kid too.”

 “Yeah, and we’ve grown since then and gotten over it, right?”

 He lets out a long sigh. “I had gotten over it, but working with you every day has kinda... brought some things back to the surface.”

 Staring at him, you swallow and try to stay calm. You know where he’s coming from, and it’s a little comforting to know that he’s been experiencing at least some of the emotions that you have been, but you don’t know whether or not it’s a good thing. 

 “I get it. I’ve been struggling too, but there’s nothing we can really do about it.”

 You’ve thought about just taking the plunge and sleeping with him again. It would be nice—really fucking nice—but it would only make things worse. 

 “I guess. It’s been cool to hang out again, but…” Mike chews on his lip for a moment before finishing, “We’ve never been good at just hanging out.” 

 The reminder makes your skin prickle with heat, and you shift in your chair, reeling in your thoughts before they run wild. 

 “Yeah. If it would be easier to just not hang out, I’d understand.”

 He turns back to the stove to stir something and turn on the vent then twists back around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

 “Then, what are you saying?”

 Mike makes a little disgruntled noise, hanging his head like he’s getting frustrated. “I’m saying some days are hard. I tried to keep some distance, but that lasted for about a week, and now you’re here, and even though you’ve changed some, you’re still you, and I’m still me, and… Some days are just hard.”

 Some minutes are hard, you think to yourself. You can be going about your day like someone who isn’t completely fucking smitten, and then you see Mike, and he nods or grins and suddenly all you want is to be alone with him and trace over his lips with yours, feel his hands on you, run your fingers through his long hair. 

 “If I could take those feelings away from you, I would,” you tell him, and it’s apparently the wrong thing to say because he frowns.

 “Do you not feel the same way then?”

 Your reply is almost instantaneous. “Christ, Mike, of course I feel the same! I was in love with you! I didn’t know how to show it back then, but that’s what it was, so yeah, I feel it too, but there’s no point in—in analyzing it or turning it into something—”

 “You were in love?”

 “Dude. Yes. It took me a while to realize it—like, way too long—but yeah. Definitely love. Junior and senior year wouldn’t have sucked so much if it was just lust or infatuation or something.”

 “Sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” you wave him off. “I fucked up. You had every right to be pissed.”

 “I could’ve handled it better,” he mutters.

 You shake your head. “Dumb kids, remember?”

 Mike looks genuinely upset, and you don’t know what to say anymore, so you get up from the kitchen table and walk over to him. You have to physically urge him to turn and face you, but once he does, you wrap your arms around his torso and sigh. He immediately locks his wrists behind your back, resting his chin on your head, and it feels familiar and right and a little bit like home. You can smell the fabric softener that clings to his shirt and the fresh scent of his deodorant, different from what he used to wear, but that doesn’t make it bad.

 “Can we wait for a while longer before we decide to act like dumb kids again?” You ask.

 Mike chuckles above you. “You say that like you’re positive we will.”

 You’re just being realistic, and you tell him as much. The chances of you leaving the city without having sex at least once are slim to none. You figure the two of you will break and indulge in one of those ‘just for old time’s sake’ fucks, but if Mike keeps talking to you like this, admitting feelings and what not, you’re gonna lose it much faster than you’d originally planned. 

 “Yeah.” You feel him nod. “Yeah, we can wait.”

 When he kisses the top of your head, you almost give up then and there. 

 *

 This fucking sucks. Everything sucks. Mike was never one of those people who looked back on college as his glory days, never really had the desire to go back to it, but now he feels like he’s reliving them because he’s back to being twenty-one and obsessed with a girl—being obsessed with you. 

 It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t know that you felt it too, but you admitted it, so now the only thing that’s stopping the two of you from exploring that avenue is, what, fear? Again?

 He gets it. He does. You don’t want to fall into something serious only to leave, but it’s possible to navigate relationships like that. Long distance-works. There’s technology for that like phones and video chats and sex toys. Then, there’s always the option of just relocating. It would be drastic, but Mike isn’t against the idea. Arrangements would have to be made, but he could swing it. It’s a little crazy so early on, but...

 He’s not gonna push it, not in a blatant way, but he’s gonna try his damndest to make it harder for you to go. He grows bold enough to start touching you more. A hand on the small of your back as you leave a room together, an arm around your shoulders when you watch TV over dinner, tucking hair behind your ear (“God, that used to be Erwin’s, like, go-to move.”). It’s fucked up because he knows your colleagues are asking about it, that he’s subjecting you to their interrogations, but he can’t help himself. He can’t stop.

 It definitely has an effect on you. You get flustered every time, can’t look at Mike for a while, and he hopes it’s because you’re thinking about other ways he could touch you—has touched you—f you’d just give him the chance.

 He thinks he has the patience to keep it up, wind you up more and more every day until you spin out of control and into his bed. You’re still spending time with him outside of work, still sharing pieces of yourself, and you’re not stopping him from putting his hands on you. so it’s only a matter of time.

 It comes to a head in his apartment after dinner. It’s so simple, something Mike didn’t even do on purpose, but as you’re washing your hands, he comes up behind you and reaches past you for a paper towel. He puts a hand on your hip without thinking, and his chest presses against your back, and then you’re exhaling in one quick huff and squirming to turn around.

 “Okay.”

 “Okay, what?” Mike asks, confused as he takes a step back. 

 “Okay, I’m ready to act like a dumb kid.”

 You don’t even dry your hands, just curl your fingers into his shirt and gaze up at him with dilated pupils, and Mike is elated.

 “Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

 He leans down, and you stand on your tiptoes, and when you meet in the middle and he feels your lips on his for the first time in almost a decade, he groans. 

 You pull him closer, tilt your head further back to give him better access, and Mike cradles it in his hands. He tries not to breathe too heavily, pant like a fucking dog, but he’s been waiting for this since he saw you again. Maybe before that. He thinks on some level he’s been waiting for this since he left you alone in the ranch house, a little voice nagging at him to go back, to fix things, and he just never did. 

 “This is stupid, this is so stupid,” you murmur against him. “Only gonna make things harder.”

 “Just stop thinking about it,” Mike replies, nipping at your bottom lip. He doesn’t want you to think about it because he doesn’t want to think about it otherwise he’ll blurt out everything he’s been stewing on for the last couple weeks, the possibility of a real relationship, of you staying or him going, and that's too much. 

 You both shed clothes on your way to the bedroom, a trail of shirts and pants until you’re naked and laid out for him, and Mike swears he just might cry because you’re so beautiful, just as he remembered with a little more meat on your hips and thighs, a new scar on your calf that he asks about before brushing his lips over it. That leg is already resting on his shoulder, and once he gets situated on his stomach, he throws the other one over himself.

 His mouth starts to water as he gazes at your pussy, so fucking pretty, hole fluttering when he spreads you open. You can’t answer his question about the injury as he lowers his face, pressing the flat of his tongue to the sensitive skin then dipping it inside of you. 

 “Oh, fuck.”

 You taste and smell and feel perfect, and the only thought in his mind is to devour you. He won’t stop until you’re crying, drool leaking from your mouth and your cunt. And, he knows exactly how to get you to that point. 

 Mike flicks over your clit until it grows firm against his tongue then sucks it into his mouth. The noise you make goes straight to his cock, and he starts to rut into the mattress to get some kind of friction. He can already feel precum dripping from his tip, knows you won’t be the only one getting messy tonight, but he doesn’t care. He’s never cared. 

 Mike only pulls away when your thighs start to tremble around his head, and it’s only to mark them with bruises. It reminds him of the last time, when you’d let him fuck you in a fit of desperation. It had been his undoing. He thought of that night for years, and now that he’s able to do it all again, he can’t help but confess, “Fuck, I’ve missed your pussy,” just before he spits on it. 

 Your chest is rising with every little whimper you release as your nails dig into your palms. He’s never been happier to have long arms, able to reach up and massage your tits, stretching his fingers out to span across your chest, thumb on one nipple, pinky on the other, and as he teases both of them, he moans at the fresh slick that coats his tongue. 

 “A finger,” you pant, “Give me a finger, fuck, at least one, please please please—”

 You’ve always been so cute when you babble. Mike can never say no when you talk to him like that, but after assessing and deeming you fit, he slides two fingers into you at once, still sucking your clit.

 You swear loudly, almost in surprise, but that doesn’t stop you from moving your hips, fucking yourself on every digit as your jaw drops open. 

 Mike wants to see your face—has to see it, so he licks up your body, stopping to tongue over your nipples as he goes. He never falters in his thrusting, still knows the exact angle he has to crook his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your back arches, and you plant your feet flat on the mattress to give yourself more leverage, more control. Mike smirks down at you, enjoying your euphoric expression as he grinds his palm against the bundle of nerves that is the key to making you fall apart. 

 “Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

 His breath catches in his throat. God, he hasn’t heard that in too long. He never told you, not that he ever had to, but hearing you call him that drove him crazy, made him fall further in love and lust at the same time, and hearing it now has the same effect.

 “Please,” you whine, then repeat it, spreading your legs to coax him deeper. “Fuck, I need you so bad, s-so bad.”

He’s in the perfect position to rub his cock over your stomach, smearing pre everywhere it touches. From the beginning, Mike has loved leaving traces of himself on you, always felt like he could almost smell it on your skin, like a sigil to ward off others.

 He places a soft kiss at the corner of one closed eye, then on the other, and when you open them to look at him, he sees that they’re filled with tears. 

 It makes him pause, but you keep riding his fingers and beg, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop, m’fine, just—”

 “Why're you crying then?" he grins, leaning down to lick your bottom lip. "Feel good?" 

 You nod, raising to your elbows to force your mouth against his, sliding your tongue inside then whining when Mike pulls away, but it's only to gather the spit in his mouth. When he kisses you again, he makes sure you take it all, pushing saliva past his teeth and onto your palette, and when you swallow, Mike makes a noise of satisfaction. 

 "That's my fuckin' girl."

 That wide, fuck-drunk smile he loves so much spreads across your face as you accept the praise you never would have when you were younger.

 Mike noses just under your ear then asks, "You ready for my cock?" 

 "Always,” you breathe. “Always ready for it."

 "Yeah?" You nod, face scrunching up, and Mike thinks there's a chance that you're—"Gonna come for me first?" 

 Your muscles are starting to tense, hips stuttering, and he can actually feel your pussy spasming around his fingers. 

 "Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

 Your eyes roll back as your body pulses. Mike's hand is coated with slick that he can't wait to lick off, and he fucks you with his fingers until you go limp. 

 He cleans his hand then slithers back between your legs to catch everything that's leaking from you. You release a pitiful moan when he traces a circle around your entrance then squeal when he rubs his beard over it. 

 "Jesus fuck!"

 "Sensitive?" He teases before crawling back up to kiss you. 

 Holding himself up with one arm, Mike takes hold of his cock, painfully hard at this point, and parts your wet folds with his tip. He slides it up and down, teasing both you and himself and gasping every time it just barely dips inside of you. 

 "Miche, please."

 "You sound good when you beg," he tells you. You've been doing an awful lot of that tonight. 

 "Good enough to fuck me?" 

 "Mm, maybe," he plays, but he's cut off when you lift yourself just enough to take his cockhead inside of you, squeezing it so that he swears. 

 It completely dismantles any self-control Mike thought he had, and he gives you everything he has in a single thrust that makes you scream his name. 

 "You asked for it," he tells you, starting to pull out. 

 You grip his biceps, shaking your head. "J-just stay still for a—oh god, oh god…"

 Mike doesn't move, lets you adjust while he enjoys the way your cunt clenches around his cock. You're panting, eyebrows knit together, and apologize, "Sorry, give me… a minute. Been a while since I've taken anything this s-size."

 It's juvenile, but Mike's chest still puffs a little when you tell him that, and that feeling only grows when you give him the go ahead to move and he pulls out to see that his cock is already covered in white cream.

 Breathing out a quiet, "Fuck," he slowly pushes back in, mesmerized by the way it creates a thick ring at the base. "So pretty," he mutters, rubbing a thumb over the skin that's stretched around him. "Such a pretty pussy."

 He lets a string of spit drip from his mouth and onto your clit then strokes the swollen bud in circles, the pad of his fingers brushing over the tiny hole that makes you twitch every time. 

 Mike falls into a very slow, deep rhythm, torturing you as he drags his cock over every inch of your satin walls. Tiny gasps are pushed from your throat with every thrust, growing louder when Mike sits back on his heels and pulls your hips up to meet his. It leaves you helpless, only able to claw at the blankets, but your efforts are half-hearted, the press of Mike's cockhead against your g-spot obviously making it hard to do just about anything. 

 "I—I—I—..."

 "You what, baby?" He coos while admiring how big his hands look where they wrap around your waist, holding you mostly still as he drives his cock in and out of you. 

 Your cunt is pulsing again, so tight around him as it drips with slick and cream. The sounds it's making, an obscene balance of suction and squelching, has Mike shaking over you because it's so lewd but so familiar, and god, he has missed this. 

 And, you're right. It's stupid because he's just putting himself in the same place he was in ten years ago, but now he's a grown fucking adult, able to handle himself better, communicate better, fuck you better. 

 Tears leak from the corners of your eyes when he picks up his pace, and he groans when he presses in just a little too far, cockhead nudging against the wall deep inside of you. Your eyelids flutter, toes curling where your feet dangle and shake on either side of Mike. 

 His hips start to snap against yours, his balls swinging every time, and Mike remembers how nice it felt when they'd slap against your clit, the way you'd sing for him, and well…

 "Turn over," he breathes, pulling out and helping as you get to your hands and knees. 

 He takes the time to appreciate the view, letting the weight of his cock settle on your back just to get a visual of how much you take of it, what it might look like deep in your ass and what it would be like to see your stomach bulge from it. 

 Another day.

 Not wasting any more time, Mike sheathes himself inside you once again, spreading your cheeks and spitting on your puckering hole so that he can press against it with a thumb. 

 Your pussy opens up for him, like your body is begging him for more, so Mike fucks you harder, faster, slipping the tip of his finger into your asshole so that you tense up and say his name drunkenly. 

 His heavy balls hit your clit over and over, making you squirm and swear, head hanging back in an invitation, so Mike uses his free hand to grab you by the hair, pulling and glancing at what he can see of your face to make sure he isn't hurting you too much. 

 That grin is back, crooked and shiny with drool you keep having to suck back from your teeth. Mike hasn't felt this good having sex in god knows how long (he knows exactly how long it's been), and he thinks out loud, "Always take my cock so well. Always been able to…"

 "Feels so good, Miche," you cry, "You feel so fucking good, oh my god."

 He takes you like this until you can't hold yourself up anymore, elbows buckling underneath you, and all he does then is fall onto his back and pull you with him, letting you ride him like this and dragging his nails down your spine. It curves under his touch, arching and bowing as you lean forward to plant your hands between his legs and bounce on him. 

 Mike has a perfect view from this angle, huffing at the way your puffy lips open for him, clinging to his cock and dripping gossamer strands. Pressure slowly starts to build in both his gut and his balls, a hot sensation that grows, making him feel full and swollen and fuck, he can't wait to fill you up, can't wait to see you sloppy with his cum again. 

 But, not yet. Not yet. 

 Pushing you until you move off of him, Mike grabs his pillows and shoves you down on them, kissing you again before burying his face between your legs. Your hands are immediately in his hair, and he smiles when you tug at it a little harshly, using the strands as a means to guide Mike right where you want him. Even though he's taking this little break to let himself calm down, he can't help but press his hips to the mattress. He's hot and throbbing and dripping pre, ready but not ready to unload everything inside of you. He doesn't want it to end too soon, wants to savor every second because you're here crying and pleading for him, pushing yourself against his face only to pull back when he sucks on your clit. 

 He's able to fit three fingers inside of you now, keeps licking and fucking you until you whisper a slew of curses and start to warn him, "You're gonna make me—" breaking into a high-pitched moan as you squirt into his mouth and all over his hand. 

 "Fuck yes, again, come on, baby, do that again."

 Mike coaxes another out of you, groaning at the feeling of you dripping down his face and chuckling at the way you shiver and sit up. Your eyes are barely open, head swaying back and forth, but you plant a hand on his chest with the confidence of someone who doesn't look like they're about to pass out, shoving him back until he lays down. 

Straddling him, you sink down on his cock and bite your lip as you rock back and forth for a few seconds. Mike can feel fluid dripping over his pelvis, murmurs, "So messy," while pulling you down for a lazy kiss. 

 He lets you ride him, lets you think you're in control for a while until your legs start to get tired, rhythm becoming slower, and then Mike takes over. He lifts and drops you to his content, hips meeting yours as he fucks up into you. Your own hands cup your tits, pinching your nipples and putting on a show as you bounce up and down. 

 "You're so good," you breathe. "So fucking good to me, god, Miche, right there."

 He's on the brink, so close to his climax, but he holds back, giving it to you just the way you want it until it starts to hurt, and then he grunts, "'m gonna come, baby, I have to. Fuck, please, please, let me—"

 "Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

 Mike's head sinks further into the pillow as his hips move without any thought on his part. He spills inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling your cunt so that it starts to leak out around him, then shooting even more inside of you. 

 "Jesus fucking—"

 Your muscles clench, squeezing and milking him until Mike starts groaning and twitching from overstimulation. 

 He could die right here and now and be totally fine with it. He really could. But before he can let that happen... 

 Mike urges you back, letting you get situated on your pillows again as he gazes at your stretched pussy and everything dripping out of it. 

 As soon as you stop moving, Mike is working his tongue inside of you. He can taste both himself and you, feel it coat his tongue as he drinks in as much as he can before sliding up to your face and taking your chin so you'll open your mouth. 

 The first drop makes you open wider, sticking your tongue out so that Mike can fill your mouth with his cum and spit, and the fact that you let him is so incredibly arousing, he just might fuck you until he's coming dry. 

 The little pattern is repeated a few times, Mike licking your pussy then spitting everything into your mouth, but he leaves some for lubrication, shoving the last of his cum back inside you when he starts fucking you on his fingers. He keeps you pliant, sucking on your clit so that he can slowly ease his pinky into your ass, and it isn't long before you're letting out breathy little sounds and tensing underneath him. 

 He takes care of you through your orgasm, looking at your face from where he lays. You're so pretty when you come, mouth open, eyebrows high, the picture of ecstasy, and Mike wants to remember it forever. He wants to keep you like this forever. 

 You shudder when he pulls his fingers from you, whine when he slowly laves over your sensitive pussy with his tongue, but after several long licks, Mike crawls back up to lay next to you. 

 "God damn," you laugh. "I had almost forgotten how good you are."

 Mike smirks, kissing your temple and nipping the shell of your ear. "Almost?"

 You nod, a spent smile making your lips curl. "I don't think I could ever fully forget even if I wanted to."

 Humming, he traces fingers over your stomach, now sticky from the mess of precum he had basically slathered you with. 

 "Yeah, we were pretty good for each other when we weren't being stupid," he muses. 

 He should probably step away for a few minutes, hop in the shower and wait for the flood of chemicals in his brain to fall away. 

 "We were, weren't we?" 

 "Mhm."

 Mike dips to press his face into your neck. He just can't stop touching you, can't stop breathing you in. He needs to memorize everything about this—how soft you are underneath him, how you smell like sex and sweat and your perfume, how quiet your voice is when you speak to him. 

 He feels your body rise and fall with a heavy sigh, and he's about to ask if you want to rinse off, but you open your mouth first, thoughtful when you tell him, "I loved you so much, Miche."

 "I know," he replies. Even if he couldn't see it then, he can now. You may not have told him to his face, but if Mike had been just a little smarter back then, he would have realized you were telling him in different ways. "I loved you too."

 He feels you pet his hair, probably a tangled wreck from being pulled. "I, uh…" You swallow hard, and Mike rests his chin on the hand on your chest, your heart beating against his palm a little too fast. 

 "You wanna shower before you say whatever you're about to?" 

 He knows what you're about to tell him. He just wants to make sure you don't regret it when you come back to yourself. "Yeah, probably."

 Both of you leave the bed on unsteady legs, Mike leading you to the shower and setting it to your favored temperature. He stands under the spray with you, taking the brunt of the water while kissing you. You move slowly, tangling your tongue with his, mapping out his body with exploratory hands. 

Mike is the one to break away after several minutes, insisting on soaping you up and dragging his loofah over your skin. He even sinks to his knees, gentle as he cleans your thighs and between them, careful not to get suds anywhere they're not supposed to be. When he’s finished, Mike presses a kiss to your pelvic bone before standing again, grinning when you pull him back to your face. 

 He doesn't have the same, short refractory period he used to otherwise he'd fuck you against the tiled wall, but he's content to stay like this, sucking on your lip and pressing against you. 

 Even after you've been given the chance to get your thoughts in order, you still blink up at Mike, water droplets dotting and falling from your eyelashes as you tell him, "I love you. I still love you. I don't think I can stop."

 He holds your head in his hands, brushes his nose against yours as his chest swells with more emotion than he thinks he can actually handle, and his own confession is easy: "I love you, too." Another soft peck to your lips before he adds, "I think you already knew that, though."

 "Wasn't positive."

 Mike knows there are logistics to consider, but the two of you can work on that later. For now he just wants to finish rinsing off and crawl into bed with you. 

 He should probably change the sheets, though, and find you pajamas, so Mike does exactly that as you traipse back out to the kitchen for some water, wearing absolutely nothing and making him bite his lip. 

 He puts new bedding on the mattress, then digs through his dresser for a t-shirt and boxers. Something catches his eye, printed material that almost makes him laugh out loud. He doesn't know why he still has the shorts, especially since he ruined the shirt a long, long time ago, but he's so glad he does. 

 Pink and covered in palm trees, he can't even fit into them any more, but it's fine. He thinks he knows how he can repurpose them. 

 But first, he needs to call his mom. 

 *

 It's an easy fix, really. Before the Sina project even comes close to wrapping up, Mike finds a place for you in his department, something you hadn't thought possible, but apparently he's kind of a big deal in the field. 

 When he makes you the job offer in the conference room, he's able to keep it professional for a whole three minutes before you agree to the terms, and then he's out of his chair and picking you up to swing around. Just like that, the whole fucking office knows about the two of you. 

 "Ha! You owe me fifty bucks, Moblit!" Hange shouts for everyone to hear, and you shake your head as the quiet man asks if he can Venmo them. 

 "I fucking knew it! I knew there was something going on! God, that's so satisfying. I'm not even mad that you're leaving us."

 "It's been going on for a long time now," you snort. 

 Hange leans against the wall and wriggles their eyebrows, "Yeah, what, like, the whole three months we’ve been here?" 

 "Try ten years," Mike mutters, and the eyes behind Hange's glasses nearly roll out of their head. 

 You and Mike have to sign a few things, contracts and couples disclosures and what not, but you don't mind. 

 The first thing you do is ask for a few days off in order to move, and Mike naturally does the same to help. You live just over three hours away, but are able to recruit some help in the form of your old friends. 

 You let out a shrill scream when you see Erwin step out of his car outside of your apartment complex, all but throw yourself into his arms so that he laughs and squeezes you tight against him. It's been a couple years since you've actually seen him, the distance between you just a little too far, but it's so nice to stare at his stupid face again. 

 Nile is also there with a very pregnant Marie on his arm, and Hitch and Rhi arrive as all the guys are carrying down the first load of packed boxes. 

 "Damn, it has been a long time since we've all been together," you say, looking around at everyone and grinning after you tape up another set of cardboard flaps. 

 "Yeah, kinda weird how we all just get along now," Hitch giggles. 

 "It's almost like we're adults or something," Rhi adds. 

 You pass her the box, but she just groans and passes it to Erwin. 

 Everyone takes turns making trips to Mike's apartment, and the moving effort takes three days in total. You really need to find a way to repay all of them, maybe suggest a nice dinner. 

 "God, why do you own so much shit, babe?" Mike asks after loading the last shelves of a bookcase into his car (that you still hate). 

 "Because everything has sentimental value. Don't judge me."

 "Oh, I'm judging. When'd you get so soft?"

 You roll your eyes and reach past him to close the trunk door. 

 The others are all standing in the parking lot with you, antsy and excited for the two of you, or so you assume. 

 "I really can't thank you guys enough. You've made this so much easier," you tell them. 

 Erwin grins widely and pulls you into a hug, and to your surprise, Hitch slides around you to hold you from behind. It makes you laugh and call them dumb, but when they step back, you're hit with the realization that they weren't just being goofy; they were strategizing, keeping you shielded from Mike who is now kneeling on the asphalt and chewing on his bottom lip. 

 Your eyes grow wide, and you step back only to run straight into Erwin's chest. He puts two, grounding hands on your shoulders, and you can almost feel his smile as Mike reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. 

 A small pink box. 

 A small pink box with pieces of fucking palm trees wrapping around it. 

 "Did you get that fucking upholstered?" You shout, and Mike lets out a giddy laugh, his eyes so narrow from grinning that you can barely see the green. "I don't even wanna open it. I cannot believe—"

 "Good thing you don't have to open it then," he chuckles. “I do.”

 "You are fucking impossible, you know that?" 

 "Yeah," he agrees before prying the ridiculous box apart and revealing a ring that makes you tear up. 

 It isn't huge, but it's far from plain, sparkling stones wrapping around it with a larger, round cut in the middle. It's extremely pretty and very you, and oh, you wanna put it on, you wanna put it on right now. 

 "Don't look too impressed. Mom helped me pick it out, and it’s all ethically sourced, of course," Mike says, and you wipe your eyes while giggling. 

 "Oh my god, she's crying!" Rhi yells. 

 "Shut up, it's because of that atrocious box."

 Mike looks behind you at Erwin. "I knew she'd love it."

 "Yeah, good call, bro."

 "I hate both of you."

 "Still gonna marry me, though, right?" Mike is still grinning, but you can see the barest hint of worry in his eyes, and you can't blame him because this is big. This is commitment. Marriage. He wants you to marry him. 

 And, some will say it’s too quick, that you’ve only been actually dating for a couple of months, but it makes sense because if you’re being honest, you never really fell out of love with Mike. He’s always been nestled deep in your heart.

 "Against my better judgement," you smirk. 

 He stands up quick enough to make himself dizzy, has to brace a hand on his car as he kisses you. 

 "Finally!" Erwin shouts, clapping his hands and being joined by the others. 

 Mike slides the ring from the terrible box, pushes it onto your finger with shaky hands, and when you admire it in the sun, you look at him and nod. "Very nice, Zacharias. Even in the parking lot setting."

 "I just wanted everyone to be here! If we went somewhere fancy, you would've figured it out."

 That's true. Going to some nice restaurant or quaint little park would have definitely tipped you off. 

 "Also, you know once we're married, you will also be Zacharias."

 "Yeah," you nod thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess I will be. Hey," you look at him with raised eyebrows. "Wanna shotgun beers at the wedding?" 

 Mike laughs loudly. "That is how it all started, isn't it?" 

 "Yeah, this stupid frat boy in a Hawaiian shirt came up to me and demanded I shotgun a room temp beer."

 "Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles. 

 You shrug as he pulls you into his chest and sigh into his shirt, "He turned out alright, I guess."

[drabbles-mc]

Starting Over

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Combining two Anonymous requests for this: reader is Jax's younger sister, and with Juicey boi. Stuck fiercely with him through Potter. Douchebag! Anyway, so. It's just after Tara, and Juice has gone MIA. As soon as reader hears Jax wants Juice, she goes to find him - obviously get's pointed to him by Wendy (not Gem because she knows what she'll do). When she goes to Juice, he tries to scare her off, but she gives him some lip, then maybe some smut - then she takes him far away, never to return! & can I get a Juice x Female reader where she finds out that Jax wants Juice after he goes MIA, and she's been with Juice for ages without the boys knowing - and she realises that Juice is in danger, so she manages to find out where he is, and she goes there, has some fluffy/angst time with Juice, before pulling him into her car and driving off to take him away and completely leave Charming and the sons behind. Maybe a fluffy pregnancy reveal too? Ultimately, must save Juice and protecc

Warnings: language, angst, slight steam

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Figured that these two requests ran pretty parallel to each other so I combined them! Only thing I didn’t do was full-on smut because it didn’t really fit with the whole mood of everything. But we gettin’ Juice outta his mess for sure. Enjoy! xo

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @mayans-sauce​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @chibsytelford​ @mijop​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @xladymacbethx​ @kkim120​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

Things had been falling apart for the club for a while. Growing up in the middle of it had exposed you to a lot, but even so this was the most chaotic it had been in your lifetime. You couldn’t blame it all on Jax, knowing that things started crumbling long before your brother took his seat at the head of the table. But there was a lot more frustration there between the two of you than there used to be.

That rising tension was the original reason that you never told Jax, or anyone in the club for that matter, that you had gotten involved with Juice. It had sort of just fallen together. There was something about him that you couldn’t pull yourself away from, no matter how far he seemed to spiral. His life was just as messy as yours, if not messier, which was another reason the two of you decided to keep things quiet—it was supposed to cut down on the mess.

However, once you noticed that Jax’s feelings about Juice took a turn, you got nervous. Ever since Tara was murdered, he was on a warpath. You couldn’t necessarily blame him, but Juice was on thin ice as it was and you weren’t going to let him become another casualty if you could help it. You didn’t lose him in the depths of things with Potter, you weren’t going to lose him now.

You had looked everywhere for him. You scoured all of Charming but he was nowhere to be found. You stopped by his place, and immediately noticed that certain things were missing. His place wasn’t cleaned out, but you could tell that he packed the essentials to make a quick getaway. Your heart sunk inside your chest as you tried to strategize how to find out where he was. There was a short list of people you felt like you could trust to ask who wouldn’t blow up your spot to the rest of the club.

You found yourself on Gemma’s doorstep. For as much as you loved your mother, she was the last person that you wanted to talk to about this. You did, however, know that she and Wendy were close these days, and that anything Gemma knew about Juice, she might’ve pipelined to Wendy. It was a long-shot but she was the only person you had left that you felt like you could talk to without exposing yourself, or Juice.

Gemma opened the door, “Hey, sweetheart, everything alright?” she hugged you once you stepped inside.

You nodded, “Yea, all good. I just, uh, is Wendy here?”

You could see the gears turning in Gemma’s mind, “Yea, why?”

You shook your head, “Nothin’ I just wanted to talk to her about some counseling stuff,” you tried to play it off, “One of Lyla’s girls is a little,” you shook your hand slightly, “Rocky right now. Just wanted to get her opinion on some stuff. That’s all.”

You’d gotten good at lying to Gemma—it was the only way to have any semblance of privacy. She nodded, convinced for the time being, “She’s in the guest room with the boys. Send them out before you start talking about that shit though, alright?”

You nodded, “Of course.”

You made your way back to the room, politely sending your nephews on their way before shutting the door, allowing you and Wendy your privacy. Confusion was written all over her face as you sat on the bed with her. You took a deep breath as you tried to get your thoughts together, praying that this wouldn’t backfire on you.

“You know where Juice is?” there was no point in beating around the bush.

“Why would I know that?” she couldn’t meet your eyes, and you knew that she was trying to hide something.

“I know the club wants him dead,” you paused, correcting yourself, “I know Jax wants him dead. I just…I just wanna help him.”

“You wanna help Juice?” she clearly didn’t buy it.

You ran your hands down your face, not able to fault her for being skeptical, “Jax might be my brother but that doesn’t mean that I blindly support everything he does. I’m not my mother,” you shook your head, “Juice can’t survive this on his own. He needs someone.”

“You?”

You took a deep breath, knowing you’d already put yourself in a pretty deep hole. What was the harm in digging yourself a little deeper? You met Wendy’s eyes, “I’ve been with Juice for a while now. Way before all this other shit started. I can’t…I can’t let Jax get to him.”

Wendy pressed her lips together into a thin line. She knew as well as anyone what your family was like. It was a wonder that you turned out the way you did. She took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose, “He’s at my place. That’s…that’s why I’m still here.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “Y-your place?”

She nodded, “Gemma was banking on me staying in rehab way longer. Figured it was a free, empty place for him to stay. I wasn’t gonna kick him to the streets when the club wants his head on a goddamn stake. So…he’s still there.”

You leaned in a hugged her, for the first time in a long time. It felt a little foreign at first but she leaned into you for a moment and accepted it. You pulled away, trying to fight back the tears that were stinging at the edges of your eyes, “Thank you. Seriously.”

She nodded, “Don’t mention it. Seriously.”

You both got a quiet laugh out of that. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you stood up. Before opening the door, you turned back to Wendy, “If Gemma asks, I asked you about some rehab counseling shit for one of Lyla’s girls.”

She nodded, “Got it,” there was a brief pause, “Take care of him. He needs it.”

You nodded but didn’t say anything more as you left the room. You made your way back through the house, giving your nephews hugs and kisses goodbye before saying goodbye to Gemma as well. You tried not to let your anxiety shine through as you tried to put together some semblance of a plan.

You raced back to your place and packed a few bags. You grabbed the few things that Juice had left at your apartment over the last few months, not wanting to leave any trace of that behind once you were gone. You packed the essentials, grabbed your emergency stash of cash, and then hit the road to get to Wendy’s place.

You knocked relentlessly on the door. When there was no answer, you finally spoke up, “It’s me, Juice.”

Seconds later Juice opened the door, gun in his hand by his side. You could see it written all over his face that he was spinning out. You took a deep breath as you stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind you. You immediately stepped in and wrapped him in a hug, your heart breaking at the way he practically fell into your embrace like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

After a few moments, you pulled away from him. You could see it in his eyes how lost he was. You reached out, gently cupping his face, “We gotta go.”

“What?” he looked confused.

“We gotta go. We gotta get out of here. You can’t stay here.”

“Yea but…but you can’t go with me.”

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear him say it so definitively. “Why not?”

“Because you’re Jax Teller’s fucking sister,” he snapped, “You can’t just…leave Charming. You can’t just leave. Especially not with someone the club wants dead. They, they won’t stop until they find you. Or me.”

“They’re not going to find us.”

“You’re an escape artist now?”

You scoffed, “I don’t think that you’re in a position to be criticizing. It took me one day to find you.”

He gnawed at the inside of his lip, “You can’t do this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“That’s a risk that I’m willing to take.”

“Well I’m not,” he shook his head, “You’re not putting yourself out on the line like that for me. I won’t let you.”

“You won’t let me?” your laugh was hollow, “Let me? You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do. I grew up under Gemma’s fucking thumb—I’m done getting bossed around by other people. You don’t get to tell me that I can’t come with you.”

“Yes, Y/N, I do. You’re not throwing your whole life away for me.”

“I’m not throwing it away! I don’t want a life here in Charming if you’re not in it.”

“They will never forgive you for leaving.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

“Y/N,” he sounded angry but you could see the tears in his eyes. He turned away love every chance he could, not wanting to deal with the heartbreak that followed, “You can’t leave. Not with me. Not for me. I’m…I’m not worth the fallout.”

“Yes you are,” you stepped in and cupped his face once more, “You are worth whatever it takes. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, tears escaping down onto his cheeks, “I love you too.”

You pulled his lips to yours, catching them in a rough, needy kiss. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, like it was the last time he was ever going to be able to touch you. His tongue ran along the inside of your lip before meeting yours. You moaned, fingers pressing into the back of his neck. His hands slid underneath your shirt, nails raking lightly along the soft skin of your back.

You pulled away, breathless as you rested your forehead against his. He gave you a light squeeze, “I love you.”

You smiled despite the heaviness of the situation that you were in, “I love you too.”

“We can finish this when we get to wherever we’re going,” he chuckled, and it was nice to see him smile.

You nodded, pulling away from him a little bit, “Right, right,” you took a deep breath as you looked around Wendy’s place, “You got a bag packed?”

He turned and walked towards the closet, digging around before resurfacing with a duffle bag that was bursting at the seams. You looked at the kutte that was draped across the top of it and your heart broke. Leaving Samcro behind was going to be a big shift for the both of you—it was all you’d ever known, and it was all the family Juice had anymore.

He saw the look in your eyes and the tears returned to his. You shook your head slightly, “You gotta leave it, baby. Nothing good is gonna come from you keeping that.”

He nodded even though he didn’t want to admit it, “I know.”

He gripped the leather tight in his hand for a few moments before laying it on the end of Wendy’s couch. You nodded in approval, pulling him towards you and kissing him softly on the lips to let him know that it was going to be okay.

“You sure you wanna do this?” his voice wavered a little, “There’s…there’s no coming back from this.”

You nodded, “I’m sure,” you tangled your fingers with his, “Let’s go.”

The two of you packed what little you had into the trunk of your car. You situated yourself in the driver’s seat before turning to look at Juice. Worry was still present in his features but you could tell that even despite that, he was glad that you were there with him  

You reached over, taking his hand in your own, “We're gonna be alright. We're going to figure all of this out. We'll be safe,” you paused, “Do you trust me?”

He nodded, no hesitation in his response, “With my life,” he paused for s few moments, “You’re really willing to leave behind your family for me?”

“You’re my family,” you waited for him to meet your eyes, “Juice?”

“Yea?” his eyes searched yours, trying to guess what you were going to say next.

“I mean it, you know. You’re my guy. My family.”

His smile as soft, sincere, “You’re my family too.”

“I know now might not be the best time,” you chuckled nervously, “But really when do we ever have a right time for anything, right?”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m…I’m not going to be your only family for much longer,” you couldn’t hold back your nervous laughter as you took his hand and rested it on your stomach, “A fresh start is going to be good for all of us.”

His eyes widened as he realized what you were telling him. A smile broke out across his face as he leaned over and kissed you hard on the lips. He’d never been more ready to run off with you than he was in that moment.

“Alright,” he chuckled, unable to believe the situation he was in, “let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”

You smiled, kissing him once more softly on the lips, “Let’s go.”

You threw the car in drive and pulled out onto the road. As you took off, Juice's hand came to rest on your thigh, “I love you.”

You smiled, glancing over at him for a moment, “I love you too.”

Your eyes made their way back to the road in front of you. Letting out a deep sigh, you let yourself soak up the fact that you were on your way to somewhere new, with the only person who really mattered, the only person who ever really tried to look out for you these days. Charming faded out of your rearview mirror and you had never felt more relieved, despite the uncertainty that laid ahead. All of the anxiety though., faded away when you felt Juice's thumb tracing back and forth on your leg. You had faith that the next chapter was really going to be the start of a whole new book, just for the three of you.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Play Me One More Time

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader Words: 3900 Warnings: FLUFF, little bit of angst but it's completely overwhelmed by the FLUFF, a swear word or two Synopsis: Marcus puts out a call for your old band to get back together again. You accept, but how long will it take before old feelings for Marcus get in the way?

Inspired by this gifset

Fic Masterpost

The notification popped up on your phone during your lunch break at work. Where you sat at your classroom desk next to the window you could hear children screaming and laughing. You nearly missed the ping of your phone over the sounds.

Holding your half eaten sandwich in one hand, you curiously swiped down from the top of your phone and clicked on the notification without much thought.

Marcus Pike has sent you a message!

You lost your grip on your sandwich as it plonked down onto your lap, but that was the least of your worries. You frantically tried to exit out of the messaging app before it could open but nothing worked. The conversation opened and the word 'read' stared at you mockingly underneath his message.

You sighed, ignoring the sauce that was seeping through your cotton trousers. You had no choice but to read it now. And then you'd have to reply to whatever he had sent you or he'd think you were ignoring him.

Hey! Long time no speak! I've been in touch with Jo and Tom and was wondering if you wanted to get the old band back together? Maybe have a catch up if you're not too busy? Let me know :)

You chewed on your bottom lip as you reread the message half a dozen times, heart hammering in your chest as you realised Marcus must be back in your hometown. You'd heard through Jo that he'd moved to Washington a couple of years ago, so what had brought him back?

You haven't played in the band since your college days, and your only captive audience since then has been the pre-school kids you teach. But you couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Marcus again, the man you'd been head over heels in love with since you knew what love was.

The school bell rang throughout the building, signalling the end of recess and the beginning of afternoon lessons.

Marcus! So good to hear from you. Would love to catch up, are you free this weekend? x

By the time you cleaned up your trousers you had your reply.

This weekend is great. Want to meet at our old diner? Heard Mr Howells still owns it.

You grinned down at your phone, thinking about the afternoons you used to play hooky with Marcus and hide out at Mr Howells' diner. You were surprised Marcus remembered it.

He does! The burgers haven't changed either. Is Saturday 6pm any good?

You tapped your feet as you waited for his reply. Your children were lining up outside the door and you needed to know if you were having a date with your forever crush before continuing with your day.

When your phone pinged, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

Sounds perfect. Can't wait to see you again! :)

You sent the thumbs up emoji and put your phone away, opening the classroom door with a smile on your face and a pep in your step.

-

You'd been here, at Mr Howells' Diner, a week before Christmas with a couple of teacher friends you worked with but now it felt different. Now you had memories of you and Marcus giggling over overflowing chocolate milkshakes and feeling sick from gorging on too many salty fries floating through your head. You saw Marcus' baby face fading into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, you'd seen him change from boy to man in this diner, and he'd seen you change from girl to woman.

You bounced from one foot to the other nervously as you peaked through the window of the door in search of your old friend.

"You could've waited inside," came a deep voice from behind you. You spun around and came face to face with Marcus. He glowed yellow and red under the neon sign above you, but he looked beautiful, grin plastered wide on his face as he took you in for the first time in years.

"Hey," you managed to breathe out a welcome without too much embarrassment, "I didn't know if you were already here."

"Shall we?" Marcus stepped closer to reach around you and open the door.

You blinked to readjust your eyes to the bright fluorescent lights inside the diner. You giggled when you realised Marcus was doing the same.

"You weren't lying, it's hardly changed since we were kids," Marcus laughed, eyeing the original furnishings and old menu signs hanging on the walls.

You took a seat in your old booth, the one you and Marcus would automatically flock to when you were younger. It was far enough away from the counter that you had privacy for your teenage musings, but it overlooked the car park so you could watch out for anyone you needed to hide from.

"This takes me back," Marcus mused, shaking off his coat when you did the same.

"Yeah, it brings back so many memories."

"Do they still do the Choc'o'Shock shakes?"

You laughed and pointed towards the milkshake menu above the counter.

"They do!?" Marcus gasped loudly, eyes wide in surprise, "that was my favorite, with the popping candy-"

"- and the cinnamon, yeah, we used to share because it was in the extra large glass."

"Yeah, oh man."

Your laughter died down as soon as the waitress came over and took your orders. Your nerves from earlier had completely disappeared. Even in the silence that followed the waitress leaving the table it was comfortable as you both tried to find the words to start a conversation.

"I've been in Washington for a couple of years," Marcus began.

"For work?"

"Yeah, I needed to go away for a bit. Some things happened and a fresh start was what I needed."

You nodded as you listened. You wanted to ask more but you had to remember your friendship wasn't what it used to be. There was a boundary now, an unspoken line that came with not being in each other's lives for so long.

"Are you back for good?" you asked.

"I hope so. Nothing beats home, y'know?"

"I dunno, I envied you moving to the city whilst I stayed on the outskirts. Felt like you were moving on to bigger and better things and I was staying still." You shrugged it off. You hadn't meant to be that honest but it was what you had felt at the time.

"You're still teaching aren't you?"

"Yeah," you smiled at the waitress as she brought over your drinks, you were glad for the distraction.

"You still like teaching?"

"I wouldn't want to do anything else," you smiled, thinking of the kids you taught, "it's a privilege to get to shape young minds, y'know? Even at pre-school age, they're so inquisitive, and they question everything and I'm the one that gives them the answers."

Marcus smiled as he listened. You suddenly felt shy under his intense gaze, something you'd never felt around him before. But he was listening, really listening to you and it felt so good that he wanted to get to know this different, older version of the person he'd known years ago.

"You look happy," Marcus sighed happily, though you sensed something else in his tone that you couldn't put your finger on.

"I'm happy with my job," you replied, but now there was something in your tone, a comment unspoken, 'I'm happy with my job but not in other aspects of my life'.

"And outside of work?"

Damn you Marcus and your ability to look right through me.

You gave him a smile that didn't reach your eyes, a smile that told him that things weren't as perfect as your job.

"I can't complain."

"You can to me," Marcus pushed his coffee to the side and gave you his full attention. He'd always been good at giving you his full attention, maybe that was why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"I live on my own, have for a while. It's fine, it's what it is." You couldn't look him in the eye, instead focusing on cars pulling in and out of the parking lot.

"I get it. The older I get the harder it is to find someone special," Marcus said wistfully. You glanced over to him and he showed you a crooked smile. "It is what it is."

Your food was placed down in front of you and thankfully your conversations turned lighthearted.

The hug he gave you on the steps outside the diner was longer than normal but you weren't one to complain. You held him close, breathing in the sweet, smoky scent of his cologne and committing it to memory.

"Band practice."

You sighed dramatically as you pulled away from him.

"I sing to pre-schoolers, I'm not as good as I used to be."

"You had a voice of an angel, that doesn't just go away."

You rolled your eyes at his compliment, but you felt warm inside.

"Just don't laugh at me, okay?"

"I promise," Marcus said, and you believed him.

-

Band practise was at Tom's childhood home, just like the good old days. He had moved into the house when his parent's moved back to their home country of Cuba when they retired five years ago. The white, spiky outer walls reminded you of the time when you fell up the steps and smacked your head against the sharp spikes. You involuntarily cringed.

The garage was nostalgic in every way. It still housed a legless, cracking leather couch (where you used to sit way too close to Marcus on), Tom's 90's television set sat above collections of dusty VHS tapes, bicycle frames decorated the walls and a drum kit was set up on the far side of the wall.

"Please don't tell me the drums have been here since the end of college?"

Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Jo helped me get them down from the attic."

You raised your eyebrows at Jo who blushed and quickly looked away in response. There had been this unspoken thing between her and Tom throughout college, just as there had always been something quietly charged between you and Marcus. Except you had your suspicions that Jo and Tom had had the courage to do something about their thing at some point.

Marcus entered through the garage door, rubbing his hands together with a childlike excitement on his face.

"I don't know if it's because I'm getting old but I've been looking forward to this all week."

You laughed and before you knew it you were behind a microphone stand singing late 90's/early 2000's indie anthems with your friends playing behind you.

"Should we play some of our old songs?" Jo asked innocently.

"No."

"Fuck no."

"Absolutely not."

You all burst into fits of giggles.

You thought back to those songs you used to write and sing. "They were all so..."

"Angsty."

You turned to Marcus who had spoken. You nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, what was that about? What was going on in our lives that we had to write like that?"

You were being lighthearted but the way Marcus flashed you a sad smile had you taken aback. What did Marcus write about? You wished you still had your lyric books, maybe that would give a clue as to what teenage Marcus Pike was thinking and feeling.

"Lunch break anyone?" Tom shook you out of your thoughts and you were quick to jump at the chance to change the subject.

-

Over the next few months you all met up for band practice whenever you were all free, which was rare. Eventually the meet ups became less about the music and more about getting to know what was going on in your friend's lives since college.

The summer evenings were getting cooler and you took the opportunity to light a fire pit in Tom's back garden and sit around with beers in hand and Jo's phone hooked up to a small speaker playing background music to your conversations.

"So, the FBI, " Jo took a sip of her beer, "you must have some stories."

Marcus preened under the attention, goofy smile stretched wide as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.

"Yeah, none that I can tell you I'm afraid."

You joined in on the mock 'boos' that echoed around the pit. Marcus laughed.

"I'm sorry! Anyway, I specialised in art, it's not that interesting."

"Any art heists?"

"No, Jo."

"You know I saw a documentary on Netflix about these Rembrandt's..."

Tom's voice seemed to fade away as you caught Marcus' eye over the flames of the fire. You felt content under his gaze, like you'd done this a million times, like you were teenagers again listening to Tom go on about something you weren't interested in, hearing Jo pacify him absentmindedly whilst you and Marcus spoke without speaking.

It reminded you how in sync you always were, and still seemed to be. It hurt that after all these years there was still something between you, but was it enough? Marcus had come back to his hometown but you still weren't sure why.

You smiled a wobbly smile and stood from your camping chair.

"I'm just going to get some water," you announced and made your way towards the kitchen.

You didn't put the light on, instead taking to stand in the darkest corner of the room to catch your breath. You closed your eyes and leant your head back against the wall, not seeing Marcus following you in.

"You okay?"

You jumped in surprise but didn't choose to reply to him just yet. You needed to gather your thoughts together, try and have this conversation without all the emotions you felt bubbling up inside of you spilling out in front of Marcus.

"Why did you come back?"

You opened your eyes to see Marcus leaning back against the kitchen island. He was too far away to touch, but close enough that you could smell the smoke from the fire on his clothes.

"It's home. It's where I'm most comfortable. It's where all my memories are."

Were you satisfied with that answer? It seemed too vague to be completely true, but Marcus was never a liar. He seemed to sense where your head's at and sighed.

"There was someone. I wanted it to be serious. We got engaged, I promised her the world, we were going to fly out to Washington together. But it turned out I wasn't who she wanted."

You don't know what got to you the most, the fact that someone rejected this wonderful man, or that he didn't sound all that sad about it.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it made me realise I didn't want any of it either. I do want all of that, but not with her."

He whispered the last bit but in the silence of the kitchen it was hard to miss. He wanted someone else. And at that realisation you think you felt your heart crack cleanly in two.

You didn't know how to respond without admitting how you've felt for over fifteen years. You leaned away from the corner you had tried to hide yourself in and came to stand in front of Marcus.

"It's her loss. You know that, right?"

Marcus' eyes sparkled in the setting sun, and you realised it was because they were watery. You moved forward quicker than you could think and engulfed him in your arms, holding him tight to your chest as he instantly wrapped his arms around you.

You had done this hundreds of times, but this time it felt special, and you couldn't put your finger on why.

-

Your morning class hadn't even begun when your phone rang in your bag. Glancing at the bright red clock on the wall you had five minutes before the first bell. You frowned, trying to find your phone amongst the mess of tissues, pens and bandaids that had fallen out of their packaging before you saw Marcus' name flashing on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm sorry it's so early, I'm just getting into work. I was wondering if you were free tonight?"

You felt your heart jackhammer in your chest and you inwardly cursed at the way Marcus' question had sounded. Like a date. You rolled your eyes at your nonsense.

"I should be free. Why?"

"I wanted to go back to the diner if you're up for it? We didn't order the Choc'o'Shock shake, wanted to see if it tastes exactly like it used to."

You smiled at the thought of sharing a shake like you used to, and found yourself agreeing.

"Sounds good. Meet you there at seven?"

"Seven's great."

You ended the call just as the bell rang. You reminded yourself that you were just two friends, catching up like you have been for months. And you wouldn't let yourself get your hopes up. Because now that you had Marcus back in your life, you wanted to keep it that way. And you weren't going to ruin it by telling him you loved him when he didn't love you back.

-

You got there ten minutes early so you took a seat at yours and Marcus' favored booth and waited. There was hardly anyone in the diner, a couple of families dotted about, two teenagers on a date giggling over milkshakes. It made you smile and hope that things turned out better for them than it did for you and Marcus.

The bell over the door chimed and in walked Marcus, freshly shaved, hair perfectly ruffled. He wore a smart jacket over a casual shirt and jeans. It made you feel a little underdressed, should you have dressed up?

He spotted you, long legs striding over with a purpose before taking the seat across from you, out of breath and cheeks tinged pink.

"I thought I was going to be late. Got a new assistant in the office but he's struggling to get to grips with the way I like things."

You smiled, trying to imagine the gangly, slightly awkward boy in your memories as someone professional, and bossy. You giggled.

"I've only just got here myself."

Marcus threaded his fingers together on top of the black and white checkered table.

"I wanted to talk to you actually, about the other night."

You frowned. Did he mean the night in the kitchen where you comforted him?

"You don't have to feel bad about it. It's normal to let out your emotions."

Marcus smiled gratefully. "I know that, I just want to be honest. I've always been a man who is upfront with the people I care about."

You nodded. Marcus was an honourable, straightforward man. You knew he'd never go behind your back and say something, he was completely trustworthy in that sense. In every sense. He was just a good guy.

"I didn't have to come back here this year. I had choices but after everything that had happened, I realised some things."

You mirrored his posture, hands on the table an inch away from his and gave him your full attention. Despite feeling sick to your stomach about what he was going to say next, you knew he needed you to listen, so you did.

"D'you remember the time I got my drivers license, and I took you for a ride in my dad's old pick up truck?"

"Of course. I warned you you should have driven something smaller so soon after your test."

"Yeah but I was trying to show off and I ended up getting it stuck in mud and I had to call my dad out to free us."

You chuckled at the memory. Marcus had been so embarrassed and you'd calmed him down by holding his shaky hand and plying him with copious amounts of gum to chew on to distract him.

"And when I got my letter to say I'd been accepted into the FBI training program, you were there when I opened it. And when we shared our first sip of alcohol at thirteen, and you got me my first VHS that taught me how to play bass, you remember that?"

"I remember it all, but I don't understand where you're going with this." You weren't opposed to this trip down memory lane, but it was bringing back all these moments in your life that just reminded you that you'd always loved him.

"If I made a movie of my life, all the important parts would have you in them. All the parts that make up the man I am today are filled with you. I never want you out of my life again."

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You grabbed a paper napkin and quickly patted at the tears falling down your cheeks as you prepared to ask the question that may change your life forever.

"What are you saying, Marcus?"

"I love you."

You let out a shaky breath. Marcus gently took your hands in his.

"I think I always have, but I know for sure I do now. And these past months have confirmed everything. I love you."

"I've loved you since the day I met you. When I grazed my knees in the park by your house and you heard me crying from your garden. And you ran over and pulled me up to my feet and played with me."

Marcus laughed loudly, disturbing the teenagers a few booths over who looked annoyed in your direction. You couldn't care less.

"I remember. My mom told me off for playing with a strange girl but we were inseparable after that."

"We've wasted so much time," you whispered sadly.

"No. How have we? We've spent most of our life together, building memories, having the time of our lives. We've been apart for a bit but has it felt like it?"

You thought about it and realised Marcus was right. You've gotten back into the rhythm of your friendship. It's not once been awkward. Since your last diner date it's like you had never been apart.

"I suppose it hasn't."

"So," Marcus began, clearing his throat and flashing you a cheeky smile, "do we count this as the first date or...?"

You let out a shuddery laugh. "Marcus, we've been here a hundred times."

"I know but, only as friends."

"Were we ever really just friends? We were in this weird, middle-ground where everyone knew we were into each other but we never went further than a kiss on the cheek."

"Ah! There was that one time."

You frowned and crossed your arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Christmas break during the first year of college, I turned too much when you leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and we ended up kissing on the lips."

You laughed, a full belly laugh that had Marcus gently shushing you, though he couldn't contain his chuckling either.

"I completely forgot!"

"That breaks my heart," Marcus said with a wink.

You eventually ordered your Choc'o'Shock shake, sharing it like you used to. Except this time everything was on the table. Your feelings were out in the open, you were happier than you'd ever been and there was hope for you and Marcus to go forward together.

“Would you like a redo on that kiss?” Marcus asked on the steps outside the diner.

You pretended to think about it before taking hold of the lapels of his jackets. “I’d like that very much.”

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @bts17army @phoenixhalliwell @anu-simps @computeringturtle

[cupcakemolotov]

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

                                                            -

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough. 

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services. 

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone. 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone. 

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?” 

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly. 

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed. 

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it. 

She trusted him. 

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy. 

Enzo did not match lightly. 

His magic liked the match. 

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her. 

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce. 

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.” 

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty. 

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother. 

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

[wienerbarnes]

Much Ado About Nothing (4/6)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1,608

Warnings: enemies to lovers, au series, some nervous thoughts, fruit

A/N: lot of steve in this one! and ooooo wedding next chapter👀

MAIN MASTERLIST | MUCH ADO MASTERLIST

Steve anxiously paces around the suite room that him and Sharon share, creating grooves in the floor waiting for her return.

As much as Steve loves fighting for what’s right, he hates this kind of confrontation.

She wouldn’t do this to me. Why would she do something like this to me? If she were cheating, why would she agree to marry me? Was it because there were a lot of people around? But, still, couldn’t she have told me in private if she wasn’t ready to get married, yet? It doesn’t make sense.

Every minute that passes feels like an hour and Steve can’t stand to just wait around for Sharon to get back from dinner. Or her affair. No! Her dinner! She can’t be cheating this has to be some kind of mistake!

“That’s it,” Steve doesn’t like infringing on the privacy of others, and he realizes that this makes him that kind of a fiancée , “F.R.I.D.A.Y., where is Sharon’s phone, right now? Can you track it? And where it’s been?”

“Yes, Captain. One moment.” The A.I. responds.

“Agent Carter’s private phone has been located at Le Bernardin, and has been at this location for approximately 114 minutes. Would you like me to contact her?”

“No! No! Don’t send anything! Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

He was right! He knew Sharon wouldn’t cheat on him! And, as happy as he is to be assured of his future bride’s loyalty, an unanswered question still remains. Who were the people that John thought was Sharon and another guy?

Everything seemed a little… staged? He sees John every once in a while because he works in the lab with Bucky’s girl, but otherwise, he doesn’t really know anything about him. Why would he go out of his way to tell Steve his supposed affairs in his love life? Based on what Sam has told him, he’s not the kind of guy that’s just looking out for someone that way.

He knows John has struggled a bit around here, especially with everything that comes with having a brother that’s pretty famous. And because of all of this, he wants to believe John was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, but he just… can’t. Something just doesn’t feel right. Like it was being done on purpose.

“Is my wedding being sabotaged?” Steve asks aloud to the empty room.

…  

It’s a bit childish, he knows. Pretending to be asleep in their bed as he awaits Sharon’s return, her On My Way! text sitting unanswered on his phone. Jeez, he grew up picking fights with people twice his size and now fights Nazis for a living and he’s scared of an argument with his girlfriend. Or, fiancée .

So, he’s choosing to hide instead. He knows she would never be unfaithful to him, and that’s not what he wants to talk to her about. She’s so, so smart, and she can help him figure out who exactly is behind trying to create heat between them, and if it is John like he thinks, she can be the one to help him figure out what to do.

He suddenly hears her steps down the hall outside the room. He pushes himself deeper into the bed, hoping the mattress will swallow him whole so he can just emerge on his wedding day and not have to deal with the threat of someone trying to break the two of them up.

She removes her shoes at the door and even though he isn’t looking at her, he knows she’s taking off her earrings and moving towards the dresser to replace them in her jewelry box, as she always does when she gets home.

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” She whispers into the dark room.

“How did you know?”

“You snore like a bear, babe.” She turns, a gentle smile on her face, and sits beside him on his side of the bed.

She leans down and pecks him on the lips as a hello, and he can smell the scent of bittersweet wine and cheesy pasta sauce, the smell of basil surrounding her. She smells like her favorite Italian restaurant, Le Bernardin, where she was tonight.

Any nerves Steve had has since vanished now that’s she’s pressed her sweet lips to his; her mere presence in the room calming him immensely.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on? Hope you’re not getting cold feet.” She scratches softly through his hair, and her joke comes out as just that - a joke. Because the thought of either of them having doubts about their love for each other is hilarious.

“I gotta tell you about something that happened tonight.” Steve finally tells her.

It’s time to get to the bottom of this.

…

You feel as though you might be more nervous than Sharon, the night before her wedding. You know she went out to dinner, and is probably cuddling with Steve on their last night together as fiancées. Meanwhile, you lie awake in your bed, the thought of going to a wedding so… displeasing.

You haven’t had the best luck with love. You’re grateful to not have encountered someone who hits you, but you have dealt with the manipulators, the gaslighters, the mental and emotional abusers, and the occasional stalker.

Other people tell you that not everyone is like that, and you tell yourself that, too. So you keep trying, keep dating, only to be disappointed once more. It’s exhausting. And it makes you hate love. And it clearly doesn’t seem to like you much, either.

So, as unbelievably happy as you are for your two best friends, you can’t help but dread tomorrow night. The light, dreamy colors of the ballroom, the sweet vows, the slow dances, the happy tears of pure joy.

You hate to admit because you know it’s wrong, but you’re jealous. And it’s less than twenty-four hours before the wedding and you don’t see how you’ll fix any of your problems in that time frame. So instead, you’ll lie here awake, lost in your thoughts, until you eventually fall asleep from utter weariness. And tomorrow, you’ll smile for your friends, and you’ll join in the dances, and then you’ll shed your own share of tears. But deep down, you won’t be able to help being a little sad.

What you think makes it worse, is that, as aware as you are based on your past experiences that relationships will fail you, you’ve done it to yourself again. And not only have you put yourself in the position again, but you’ve done it with someone who teased you, mocked you, and annoyed you ruthlessly here at the tower. You couldn’t have chosen better.

You hate relationships, you hate love, and yet, here you are, longing for one, wishing for one, dreaming for one, just looking for any kind of sign -

A soft knock echoes in your room and you glance at the small clock on your nightstand, 13:05. You roll over and stand up out of bed, your large shirt falling to cover midway on your thighs, socks padding across the floor.

You open the door to reveal Bucky, a pair of cotton shorts and a sweatshirt covering his own body, what you assume are his pyjamas, and he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear before asking,

“Do you like fruit?”

“... Did you knock at my door at one in the morning to ask me if I like fruit?” You ask.

“No. Well - yes. I, uh, I needed to make myself busy, so, I, uh, cut up some fruit, but now I have too much. Do you want some?” He explains. He almost looks… shy. And his shyness is what softens you enough to agree.

It’s a part of Bucky’s nightly routine to have trouble sleeping. And it’s been even worse over the couple of days now that he has so many new feelings to think about. To stress about.

The kitchen is silent as the two of you stand across from each other at the island, munching away at the mixed fruit cut into a large bowl.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Stop being so catty! Just talk to him! No wonder your relationships fail, you’re always so mean!

“Why do you hate me?” He asks.

A small pause before you answer, “I don’t hate anyone.”

“Well, you certainly don’t like me.” He responds. You have no idea.

“And you certainly don’t like me.”

He picks up a piece of strawberry before replacing it back in the bowl. “Look. I only didn’t like you because you didn’t like me. What else was I supposed to do?” He argues.

“Well, I only didn’t like you because you didn’t like me! What was I supposed to do? I didn’t do anything to you!”

“And I didn’t do anything to you!”

Old habits die hard, the two of you realize as your bickering comes so naturally. He goes to continue the arguing when two people suddenly enter the kitchen and turn on the lights.

Steve and Sharon in their pyjamas stare at the two of you, anger clouded in your faces over what seems to be a bowl of fruit.

“Is that fruit?” Steve asks.

“We have a problem,” Sharon interrupts, “It involves the wedding and John.”

“The wedding?”

“Sam’s little brother?”

You and Bucky question, respectfully, the argument from before forgotten.

“I’ll explain, come on.” Sharon tells them before walking back towards the private rooms, seemingly to retrieve Nat, in order to get everyone’s help to figure out the next plan of action.

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here!

A/N: I’ve been writing this since March, and finally wrapped it up. Slightly NSFW, and apartment scene is inspired by Lore Olympus by Rachel S. 

- You’ve been dating for 2 or 3 months.

- You do it basically every chance you get

- You moan as he pushes you up against the wall, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking at your collarbone

- “Dra-Draco please” you mumble into his shoulder

- “When do you have to be back at work?” He asks between kisses, piercing grey eyes peering into yours

- He never seems to lose his composure, not even during sex

- Which of course only makes you more flustered

- The first time, it had been fairly dark

- But over the past few months you’ve been with him so often you’ve got a very good idea of what his body looks like

- Toned arms, a firm outline on his abs, pale skin blooming with the hickeys you’ve left

- Not to even get started on that face

- No wonder you couldn’t keep your hands off of him

- He bites your collarbone and you yelp, only to be met with a raised eyebrow in return

- You feel your face grow hot, you were so busy admiring him, you forgot to answer his question

- “H-half an hour I think” you mumble.

- He frowns, that’s not as much time as he’d like

- “I guess you’re going to be late” he mumbles against your skin, his hand making quick work of your blouse

- You’ve got this glow, and everyone has noticed

- “Hey! Took a long lunch today?”

- You feel your face growing warm, your hand moving over the new hickey forming on your neck

- “Just lost track of time” you say with a laugh

- You haven’t told anyone at work about you and Draco because of his popularity in your office

- “Hey (Y/N)! Come over and look! The hot guys walking by our office again!”

- Draco’s got a scowl on his face, thin, pale eyebrows practically pressed together. His eyes hold a fierce glare.

- God, you haven’t seen that expression on him in months

- You had completely forgotten that you both hated each other at first

- You catch a glimpse of his soft, pale hair, falling against his eyes. A gloved hand moves to push it aside.

- A hand that had been somewhere rather intimate only a handful of minutes ago.

- Draco’s never been happier in his entire life

- Even his employees have noticed

- “Is it just me, or does Mr. Malfoy seem more chill than usual?”

- “Yesterday That part timer, Natalia, spilled coffee all over his coat. He didn’t even blink, just said ‘these things happen’, usually he’d sack her on the spot!”

- “Maybe he finally got laid”

- They both laugh at that, while Reginald is practically sweating buckets at his desk behind them

- Little do they know they’re spot on.

- Ever since Draco started seeing you, he’s constantly come to Reginald for advice on “navigating the muggle world”

- “The traps of the muggle world are terrifying” Draco had said with a shiver. “Y’know she wanted me to use one of these?”

- Draco pulls out a condom

- “I mean what even is this? A sweet? It tastes just like plastic”

- Reginald’s not sure what’s more embarrassing, that his boss tried to eat a condom, or that he had to spend an hour and half explaining what a condom was to him, and how to use one.

- “So you can shag as much as you want with these, and nothing happens?” Draco says with a face of sheer amazement.

- Reginald has to remind himself to be empathetic. He’s lucky his parents are muggles, and generally very open minded.

- It’s not surprising Draco doesn’t know anything. The wizard world’s typical propaganda encourages procreation to increase the wizard population.

- The truly desperate can drink a potion or cast a charm, but Reginald’s sure something of that sort is never discussed in pureblood familys.

- “Muggles are pretty brilliant aren’t they?” Draco’s staring at the small plastic square in his palm, with true wonder.

- Reginald can’t help but smile, he looks like a kid that just discovered sweets

- “They are”

- Draco’s feeling pretty good, he’s got your favorite take out in one hand, flowers in the other, and a smile on his face

- He’s got someone he loves, he knows what condoms are, he’s on top of the world

- “Draco, how come I’ve never been to your place?”

- Happiness is fleeting, and reality is a lie

- He’s just set down the take out on your dining table, watching you sitting on the edge of the sofa

- You’re only a few feet away from him, but you feel an ocean away

- Well, he can hardly tell you that he still lives with his parents and that they despise Muggles and would probably curse you before you could even make a sound

- His mouth opens, brain scrambling to find an excuse

- He’s going to go with “he lives at his parents estate” when he actually looks at you

- You’re not looking to him, waiting for an explanation. You’re looking at your hands, eyebrows creased together and teeth nibbling into the flesh of your lip.

- He places a hand under your chin, nudging your face to look up at him.

- “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

- It’s not

- You were too much of a coward, and chickened out asking him your initial question

- You hadn’t thought of it before today, when all the women in your office crowded around the window to look at him

- He must have women throwing themselves at his feet

- You were together so often, you doubted he had the time to have anyone else.

- But you never had dates at his place, always yours

- In fact, you had never visited his place

- He could have an entirely different life than what you imagined, and this relationship, the blossoming feelings inside of you could just be in your head.

- Well, you’re only half right. Draco does have a whole other life, but not like you think

- “It’s just- what are we?” Biting on your lip, mustering up every ounce of courage you have you add “...are we dating?”

- Or are you both just f*cking

- He’s taken aback that this is what you want to ask, and honestly he’s a bit annoyed

- In his mind he’s already given up so many things to be here with you now

- His pride, his family, his heritage, he’s even ready to give up magic if it comes to it

- It’s all so obvious to him, that he doesn’t realize it’s all in his mind, he hasn’t conveyed any of this to you

- A softer expression moves across his face, as he takes you in, your gaze lingering on your hands. 

- Of course you’re confused

- He kneels beside you on the ground, his fingers wrapping around your hand

- “Of course we’re dating, you’re my (girlfriend/boyfriend), my lover, my significant other, my partner” each title is pronounced by a soft kiss on your knuckles. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your flushed face

- You’re his entire future

- “How do you feel about me?” He asks, his breath held in his throat as he watches you carefully

- He’s only now realizing that much of your relationship has existed in his mind

- The thought that perhaps you don’t see your relationship as anything long term only occurs after the words leave his mouth.

- You’re flushed hiding your face in your large sweater

- It’s hard for you to be honest with your wants and needs, especially in relationships

- “I want you to be my boyfriend” you mumble, and he squeezes your hand

- The words take courage you didn’t know you had, but Draco’s grin is worth it.

- He places kisses on your hand, then your face, and finally your lips. You feel his smile, and can’t help but smile as well.

- Then his kisses trail to your neck

- “Draco... the food will get cold...” you murmur, but your hand creeps under his shirt.

- “It’s fine,” he mumbles against your neck. “Gives me an excuse to invite you to my place for a proper meal next time”

- Cue to the next day, with Draco sitting across from his mother in their home. She’s flipping through a book with her wand.

- “I want a flat!” He practically shrieks out, Narcissa doesn’t even look up

- “To own, or rent?”

- Crap. He didn’t think this far ahead, he didn’t really think the words would actually come out. But he promised you a date at his place, and he can’t exactly bring you to the manor now can he?

- Besides, possible hexes and curses aside, his parents being here would definitely kill the mood

- “Rent, I guess. It’s just hard commuting to the office from home.”

- He half expects his mother to tell him to quit then, not like he needs the salary anyway. They have plenty of money.

- But instead, she says:

- “Fine, I’ll tell your father to contact our real estate connection.”

- Draco lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, about ready to walk away, his mother looks up from her book for the first time

- “And Draco,” He meets her gaze, stopping midway from exiting “do bring them home sometime.”

- He’s attempting to play dumb when his mother adds

- “And make sure to cover up the marks on your neck before you see your Father. You know how he is.”

- Draco just nods, feeling the heat creep into his face.

- Apartment hunting is surprisingly stressful. Partially because of how little he understands the muggle world.

- “This is the electrical closet, it stays locked.”

- Muggles. Don’t they realize he can just use a quick ‘alohomora’ to open it.

- When the realtor isn’t looking, he opens it, takes in the air conditioning unit and the wires, and promptly closes it again

- The muggle world is truly terrifying

- He ends up choosing a flat a few streets away from yours, in a posh upscale building. Naturally he lives in the penthouse. 

- He considered moving into the same building, but decides against it

- He has to remind himself that even though he plans on marrying you, he has to play it cool.

- From your perspective you’re a new couple that’s still falling in love

- He hates his apartment, he doesn’t understand how anything works, he has to cook all his meals himself, and he didn’t realize how much cleaning went into living without servants

- He has a newfound respect for house elves as he scrubs pasta sauce off of the ceiling

- In addition, none of the appliances in this place are enchanted, which means he has to actually use his hands to turn on the water or open the refrigerator

- He hates it

- “Wow, I considered this building too, but it was pretty expensive” you say as he helps you out of your coat

- You wonder if the reason he never invited you over was because he was trying to hide the fact that he came from money

- Not like it was a secret, what with the clothes and the restaurants he took you to, he was either rich or close to bankruptcy

- Draco’s just hoping you haven’t figured out he only moved in a week ago

- Thankfully the red sauce stains on the ceiling and Draco’s inability to clean very well thoroughly mislead you into believing this is a well lived in apartment

- Your eyes twinkle as you take in the incredible view from the large panel window in his living room

- “The views absolutely bewitching” you murmur with a smile, enchanted as you gaze at the twinkling lights of London

- He watches you, watching the lights. You look like you’re almost glowing, your form wrapped by the scenery

- “You’re the one that’s bewitching” he murmurs, watching your grin

- Well he can manage for a bit longer

[closer-stars]

Gut Feeling (9)

Member: San Genre: Fluff, Comfort Word Count: 9k Requested: Yes Content: the stuff people have been waiting for. food. boys being boys (affectionate). life being a butt. relationships are tricky. the turns have tabled. just stuff i owe you all after the pain that is called Slow Burn Note: I’m so sorry this took so long. A lot happened in between (covid scare at home if anything) in my life ahah. :( . writer’s block. trying to tie some loose strings while having something to close off for the last chapter. we’re nearly done! Proof read!. (also ehe, look forward to another fic i’ve been making maybe? ; w;)

Network: @ateezlovenet

Tag list: @barsformars @yeotlny @seoultraveller @shinyddeonghwa @frankenstein852 @miniyeo @hwaberrykiwi @jeongyunhoed 

Part 8

Blood runs loudly in his ears that for a brief moment he thought he was hearing things. 

“Can we take it slow?” It’s not really a question for you but somehow you managed to make it sound like such. 

“Y-you’re really giving me a chance?” In his case, it really is a question phrased and sounding like such. 

The way he looks, cheeks flushed in various warm shades, hands pinned under his thighs-- in all honesty, he looked like a nervous high school boy. It was adorable. “Why else would I ask if we can take it slow..” You point out gently, trying to chuckle a little lightly to gently rid the tension in the room.

Relationships have always been tricky. 

Words stumble out of his mouth with the ease of a duckling who doesn’t know how to swim. “Yeah! I, uh, I mean, yeah, we can take it slow.” San can keep his composure together on the stage despite wardrobe malfunctions or falling microphone packs but put him face to face with someone who has his heart and he’s fumbling. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He confesses. He doesn’t want to commit the same mistake. Not again. 

His words soften your features. You can’t blame him. The road the two of you walked on was a tricky one. You’re a little hopeful that this time it won’t be as troublesome as it was in the past. “I think,” you start. It’s easy to miss the hesitance the flashes behind his eyes. “I think, I trust you enough to know that you won’t hurt me intentionally.” You say carefully. There are things you’ve learned in your years without him that made you who you are, now you’re willing to learn a little more with him by your side. 

His gaze on you is intense, studying your features closely as he hopes that you aren’t joking. It takes a moment for him to realize that you’re sincere. You’ve never joked about relationships with the members or with anyone. You’re taking the risk, what kind of sign was he looking for still? His lips curve upwards slowly, until his dimples show. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

It’s obvious how the weight on both your shoulders has been lifted at his answer. You can’t help but giggle at the sight of how happy he looks. The happy moment is cut by the growling of his stomach. Two pairs of eyes look at his stomach but only one pair of ears heat up upon realizing what had just happened. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” You say without missing a beat. “I’m not good like Wooyoung though when it comes to cooking meat.” You warn as you pull him up to bring with you to the kitchen. 

“The food you cook in barbeque restaurants says otherwise though.” He points out, truthfully, he’s at the point of hunger where he’ll eat anything. 

The face you make at his words makes him giggle. It was fun teasing you. “San, those meats were marinated in their sauces.. All I had to do was put it on some hot surface to make it edible.” As you go through your pantry, you ask him if he’s okay with seafood. Of course, this was met with enthusiasm. 

That’s how the rest of the night goes, just San telling you how the commercial filming went. He recounts how tired he is of the drink he had to sip over the day-- not that he’ll ever get tired of the drink itself but just for today he didn’t want anything to do with it. Along with the usual discomforts of filming, he retells the antics the members do that haven’t changed over the years.  It hasn’t quite set in yet that the two of you are now officially together, if anything, it still feels like the two of you are still just friends only with reciprocated feelings. 

It’s not hard to notice how tired San feels now that he’s clean and full (in stomach and heart), that you can’t help the smile growing on your features as you watch him stifle a yawn. “Go get ready for bed, your mattress is already ready.” You say, shooing him to get his needed rest. 

“No, I want to help clean.” He mumbles as he stands up, used utensils and dishes in hands. While you were packing away the leftovers, he already was one step ahead of you-- cleaning them already. He just knows where everything is by now. You also know how stubborn he is by now, so you let him. As thanks, you give him a quick hug. Just as you were about to pull away to let him finish, he makes an indignant sound. “Stay like this, please? I like your hugs.” 

“As long as you wash them thoroughly.” You murmur. 

---------

The two of you are on your own beds, until now San’s a little dismayed that Lily has to sleep in another room. It was to curb her neediness, you’ve told him in the past, but still. He didn’t mind having a little fur friend next to him while he sleeps. That is, if he could actually sleep. 

It’s been an hour since his back hit the mattress to call it a day. To his right was you, sound asleep with half your face covered by the blanket. He was a little envious of how you could sleep without any sort of habit like him. Unfortunately for him, he forgot to bring something to hug to sleep so he’s left alone wide awake with his thoughts. The conversation replays in his mind, picturing how you looked at him, he wonders too how he looked earlier. This wasn’t a dream was it? He doesn’t know why he keeps doubting everything. A part of him thinks he doesn’t deserve this, knowing how he was in the past. Another part of him has to remind himself that he’s grown from it. Should he have stayed for the night? He really needs advice from his members right now. But if he didn’t stay for the night then the two of you wouldn’t have-- 

“Still awake?” 

The soft voice startles him from his thoughts, his head whipping to the source. But, you look asleep so who’s speaking? 

“Can’t sleep, huh? Did you forget to bring something to hug?” The voice was from you despite your closed eyes. He gazes at you in relief, thankful that he wasn’t being fooled by some supernatural being. 

“Go back to sleep, I’ll be able to sleep soon.” He tells you softly once he catches the rasp in your sleep ridden voice. 

You raise your arm, inviting him over to your bed. “Come here. I know you by now.” 

Even in the dark, his eyes widen at your invitation. “I thought you wanted to take things slow.” San returns, staring at your open arms before looking at your features, your eyes now open. Who knew they could sparkle even in the dark?

“I do. I also do know that you’re very cranky when you don’t get a minimum of three hours of decent sleep.” At your words, he checks the time, blinding himself at the sudden brightness of his phone. 4AM. He shifts carefully into your arms. Good god, you’re so warm and comfortable. It takes him a while to wrap his arms around you. By the time his body melts with yours, and how his arm sinks onto your side, you’ve already fallen asleep.

Sunlight hits your eyes and you try to cover your eyes from the disruption, only to gently hit your forehead against something. That’s what gets you to open your eyes. A blue shirt? You shift in alarm to look up at who was right next to you. Oh right, you let San sleep with you on your bed. This is the first time you see him so vulnerable up close. His lashes just barely brush against his skin, his mouth slightly ajar as he snores softly. A small part of you wishes to have him like this a little longer, that even if you spoi yourself with a few moments of just gazing at his sleeping form, the day has to start. “San..” you murmur, shaking him gently. 

No response. The man continues to sleep on, with no plans of letting you move out of his hold. No wonder he sleeps with a plush toy or pillow in his arms.

“San.” You say a little louder. “It’s 7AM. You have a schedule..” You remind him, patting his arm gently. His groan lets you know he’s awake much to his distaste, even going as far as covering his eyes with his forearm, to block any sunlight from forcing him up. “Get up please?” You ask him nicely, though your hand proceeds to squish his cheeks, this time you let your phone blare your alarm. “I’ll cook you some breakfast as long as you get up and get ready for your schedules.” His arms tighten just a little around you, begging for a few more minutes through a raspy whine. San, come on.” You plead gently, patting his cheek lightly to get his arms to loosen up. Eventually he does, and you catch up on the lost time to prepare food and prepare yourself up for the day. 

“Only because your alarm’s Illusion.” 

--------

Breakfast goes by smoothly once San wakes up, coffee and a decent meal putting him in a better mood. You wonder when did he become a little better with the mornings but that’s another story for another time. The two of you eat quietly, the TV faintly plays the morning programs. 

“Ah, right..” You speak up after a moment. “Manager Yoon’s going to be the one to pick you up.” At least that means San doesn’t have to rush anymore when it comes to preparing for the day. That also means he’s the last to be made up for today’s guestings in the nightly radio. 

The man stifles a yawn, his body still warming up to the mere fact he’s awake in the morning. “That’s good. What time is he coming here?” He asks as he looks at his phone. “Nevermind, half an hour.” He quickly adds as he sees the message. 

This also means he would have to tell the boys and the managers of his relationship status now. “Is it alright if I tell the boys about us?” He asks, remembering the conversation he had with the members in the past. He gave it a shot now, and it was successful. “Of course, I won’t say anything if you don’t want to.” It was through the months of catching up that he realized just how private you are with your own life. 

You don’t mind, so you give him the go signal. “Yeah, if you have to tell the company too that’s alright. I just don’t want to go public with the relationship at least for now.” You trust San yes, but can you trust the fans? A lot has changed between the two of you but surely more so for the fans they cater to. 

He nods, a little giddy to tell the boys already that the two of you are now a thing. He sees the food that’s still on the table and feels a little bummed that he won’t be able to eat this at the end of the day. 

“Go get ready, your manager’s going to be here any time now.” You stand up as you finish your own meal.

He places his own plate by the sink as a thought flashes in his mind. He wonders how nice it would be to live with you, instead of just constant sleepovers. These thoughts were better saved for another time, for now, he opts to press a quick kiss on your temple. “Thanks, babe.”

---------

The trip to the hair salon was a little rowdy to put it simply. After San dropped the news on the three members and Manager Yoon, the questions just kept going. The questions were just the same thing though, just coming from two sources: Wooyoung and Yunho. Seonghwa on the other hand was watching the entire scene unfold with relief and amusement. It was nice to see San smile this bright and giddy again. 

San did tell the entire conversation to the best that he can to the three. Manager Yoon smiling to himself as well as he listens to him. “About time.” Yunho teases as he hits San’s shoulders over and over. 

“As much as I’m happy for you, I’m bummed I won’t get to see Hongjoong drunk.” Wooyoung says with a snicker. San takes no offense, admittedly he also wanted to see Hongjoong drunk too. Maybe some other time. 

“I’ll tell the other members in the dorm. I promised them that it would only be the members and managers.” San immediately follows it up with the promise. He trusts his members, he really does but the extra precaution was needed especially with you. As much as he wants to tell the members now, it’ll have to wait when they’re back in the privacy of their dorms. For now, they had to focus on their schedules for the next few days. 

--------

The other members noticed that San was a little happier than usual even at such an early hour. Yeosang throws an inquisitive look at Wooyoung, hoping for an answer to the strange behavior. The latter says nothing but gives his friend a patient smile. Even as San tries to contain his relief for you, there’s the feeling of quiet content on his shoulders. 

The cameras start rolling, and the smiles start showing. It’s nice to see the fans again after so long. New and familiar faces are in front of them, it was an odd feeling to see people this close again. The cheers that erupt after greeting them puts a rush of adrenaline into their veins. Though there was a glass wall that separates them, the djs and the fans, it wasn’t a big deal. Things were safe now. They can go out and have a small fan meeting with the fans afterwards.

The radio show goes smoothly: a few TMIs of their daily life and comeback preparations. Some skits were done for those listening in along with a short QnA with their new songs playing in between. As much as San wanted to check his phone during the break, there were fans just outside that could look at his phone just because he knows you usually message around this time. Instead, he looks out the window, greeting the fans and waving to the cameras. He’s grateful for the fans who have stayed through the thick and thin. In a sense, both sides have seen each other grow through life’s milestones. He wonders how many of them are in a relationship as well and the thought unknowingly makes him smile softly at the fans. 

It’s Wooyoung’s insistent poking and tickling that gets him out of his thoughts, just in time for the show to continue. Before the show ends, they’re told to sing their latest song. In typical fashion, they sing their hearts out even if this is just a radio show, even if their dancing won’t be caught on camera, they still do the choreography in their seats. 

For the ending of the show, they go to where the fans are waiting, waving to them as the curtains of the venue slowly go down. It takes a while for the curtains to go down but the boys make the most with a few finger hearts, waves, and kisses to fans who have been waiting for hours for them. Now that the radio show has ended, San was able to comfortably complain and retaliate Wooyoung’s teasing and poking earlier. 

“Don’t get mad at me. You really looked like you were out of it!” Wooyoung claims as he squeaks over the tickling that he can’t escape from. Thanks Jongho. 

It’s not like San can deny that he was busy in his own head but he wasn’t going to confirm it outright here. 

Hongjoong’s return with their new album that they signed in the hair salon managed to break the bickering. It was their way of thanking the DJ for being invited onto his show, along with the hopes of being invited again in the future. With all the niceties and other gratitudes out of the way, it was time to head home. 

---------

It’s when everyone’s finally at home that the air was buzzing with curiosity. It’s rare to have San be that warm in the mornings. Well he’s gotten better with the mornings, that was a fact but there was some sort of warmth that was oozing out of San today. He knows this too or at least, he can sense that there’s something in the air with his members. 

“San, did something happen?” Hongjoong asks, now that they’re complete again for their weekly catch up. The other four were still in the dark about what had happened, the three that do know are just smiling at him. The smiles though are clearly in different stages. 

Yeosang, despite his curiosity to know what happened, can’t help but feel a little bit of alarm at the sight of how different the smiles were on Seonghwa’s, Yunho’s and Wooyoung’s faces. “San did something really smart or really dumb.” He blurts out, much to Mingi’s alarm. 

This makes the mentioned male wince at how true it sounds. He did do a lot of dumb stuff behind the camera so he couldn’t blame Yeosang for that. “Depends on how you guys take it though…” San speaks up now that everyone’s eyes are on him. His hand reaches behind his neck, rubbing it to ease his nerves. After a deep breath, he tells them that you and him are now dating, officially. The room bursts into celebration after it sinks in: Yunho and Mingi tackling the poor guy to the floor, Jongho and Seonghwa have bursted into song-- a popular OST from a recent drama they’re watching, Hongjoong says nothing but smiles in relief at his member. Thank god it ends on a good note. Truly, his kids are growing up. 

“Wooyoung looks bummed.” Yeosang points out, though with no concern after knowing the reason. It gets everyone to look at him, everyone but San who feared the worst. 

“Nah, I’m happy for our Sannie here.” Wooyoung explains, putting emphasis on his nickname the same way you would for him. “This just means, Hongjoong-hyung and I won’t be able to drink ten shots.” 

It’s only then that Hongjoong bursts into cheer, going as far as to tease him much to Wooyoung’s fake annoyance.

San looks at the entire room, eyes slightly wide with shock. “So you guys are okay with it? The two of us dating?” Even to him, the mere fact he’s dating someone he’s had feelings for so long feels unreal. 

Hongjoong shakes his head, bottom lip out in thought. “No? Why would we have an issue with it? You’ve been in love with them for so long and growing through it and now the two of you are together. Why would we be mad about this? San, we’re happy.” He stops for a moment. “Do you have plans of telling the company?”

San tilts his head in thought this time. “I’m still thinking if I should. I mean, they’ve given me the go signal if I want to tell the company but they’d rather I don’t go public with the dating.” He recounts the conversation. Hell, even his fellow friends in the other groups didn’t go public with their dating. For now, he’ll stick to being private about your relationship. “Give me two months before telling the company maybe?” 

“Six?” 

He looks at Seonghwa, a little surprised by the input. “Really?”

“Or you know,” butts in Yunho. “Just tell the company when you’re ready.” 

“Can we at least meet up with them again soon?” Mingi asks now that it seems settled. “I miss seeing them too.” He admits, a dusting of embarrassment over his cheeks. 

Now that Mingi mentioned it, it’s been quite a while since all of you met up again. While he did have you all to himself for the most part, their hectic schedules have made it hard for the nine of you to meet for dinner. “I can send them a message, ask their schedule then we can plan it from there.” San suggests.

Seeing the younger yawn through their words, Hongjoong decides to end the catch up session there. “I guess we can end it here then. Everyone’s tired and we got a full schedule for the next three days.” 

It goes without saying that if there’s a full schedule then San won’t be able to sleep over until the end. For the most part, he manages not being able to see you on the daily. He’s used to it. It’s a little different now that the two of you are dating, he wants to see you more often but work comes first. The text messages will do for now. 

---------

The last schedule finally ends and already the members can feel the buzz in his body to see you again. Seonghwa snickers at the scene in front of him. A wide eyed San that’s about to bounce on the balls of his feet. If it weren’t for it being seen as rude, he would be bouncing to leave the building. While the younger’s too busy in his own thoughts and excitement, Seonghwa sneaks a video to send to you. 

[ Seonghwa to You ] excited_san.vid

[ Seonghwa to You ] be prepared for tonight

[ Seonghwa to You ] he was so exhausted the past few days.

[ Seonghwa to You ] he’s gonna be clingy

[ Seonghwa to You ] don’t say i didn’t warn you.

“Did you just send them a video of San?” asks Wooyoung under his breath to not be caught by San. All they were waiting for was the director in order to say properly bid goodbye after the long shoot. At his question, Seonghwa shows Wooyoung the video.  “Send it to me, hyung. I want to have something to use for his birthday.” The younger begs. 

“Just shoot him now. He’s swaying on his feet.” Seonghwa points out. True enough, San couldn’t keep still now. To others, he just seemed restless, aching to be in the comfort of his own bed. But the members know better, he’s excited to come home to you. 

[ You to Seonghwa ] I’m not surprised. 

[ You to Seonghwa ] I already have food ready in case he skips on dinner again.

[ You to Seonghwa ] laughing_apeach.emoji

Seonghwa keeps his phone immediately once the director comes in. Proper niceties were exchanged along with a gift of a signed album. Now that was done, San lets out a relieved exhale as they leave the premises. 

“Sleeping over at their place again?” Seonghwa teases his younger member. “Don’t forget to ask for their schedule for a dinner with us too.” He reminds lightly at the sight of San’s red cheeks. 

“Of course! Ah, hyung, what do you take me for?” San complains lightheartedly as they make their way to the car. 

“A lovesick puppy.” Seonghwa returns without missing a beat and it’s enough to make San hide his face behind his hands. While San tries to calm down from such a straightforward answer, Seonghwa already sends San a reminder to his kakao. “There, if you still forget, you’re cleaning the bathroom for a week.” 

The doorbell rings and you immediately make your way to the door. Lily following by your feet, the little one already knowing who it was by the door. By the time you unlock your door, you see San now in his casual get up, smiling warmly at you. “Hey.” San says simply, his arms slightly raised, a shy request for a hug to which you grant once he steps inside your home. 

--------

The familiar scent of your shampoo and your clothes relaxes his strained body after a strenuous week. You can feel him practically melt in your arms. “Hey, hey, don’t fall asleep like this. I’m not strong enough to carry you to bed!” The way your voice rose in concern and alarm made San giggle lightly against your neck. Not wanting to scare you any further, he peels himself off you. 

He spots your Lily looking up at him, tail swishing about in warm welcome to his return. Once they’re given the chance to head home for a break, he’ll get to see Byeol again. Once he sets his things down by your couch, Lily loops herself around his legs. “Nice to see you too~” he coos softly as he carefully picks her up in his arms. 

As he busies himself with your feline companion, “Have you eaten?” You ask from the kitchen. At least you don’t have to worry about what he likes to eat. 

“Not yet…” He confesses, a little shyly as he approaches the kitchen, gently setting Lily down on the ground. “What’s for dinner?” He asks, as he looks for how else can he help around your place. 

“Beef, shrimp and some tteokbokki I cooked yesterday.” The table was already set up. You lean against the counter as you wait for the microwave to finish heating up the last of the meal you prepared for him. Silence shortly falls over the two of you, save for the microwave whirring in the background. It’s hard not to spot how hungry San looks at the sight of the food in front of him that it makes you chuckle lightly. “You can eat already, San. I’m just heating up the tteokbokki.” 

The microwave beeps as it finishes heating the last meal. Already San has started to eat the beef first and you let him eat in peace, god knows how long it has been since his last meal. He notices you watching him with soft eyes and again he feels his ears heat up. He asks you a question that you can’t quite decipher with the food in his mouth. “Eat first, before you ask again.” You reassure, once he tries to rush through his food. 

You had a point so he chews slowly this time, making sure to not choke in the process before speaking up again. “How was your day?” He asks, this time a little clearer, before taking another spoonful of what looked like his 2nd serving of rice. 

Well, you entertain him with your day: meetings, pre-production preparations, scouting of locations. It’s the same old day for you but you don’t mind. You’re always on the move even at the odd hours of the night sometimes. He sees it in your smile, despite the dark circles under your eyes from sleepless nights, he sees how fulfilled you are with your work. It’s the same feeling he has with his. It’s through you that he learned how to be a better artist in front of the camera and with the staff. It’s also because of you that Wooyoung’s video editing skills got better but that’s another story. 

So you return the question to him, wondering how he’s been for the past few days. Honestly, you tune in to his shows whenever you can, sometimes even just having it as background noise as you work on your own at home. 

He takes your question as his cue to let his body digest the food he practically inhaled. He leans back against the chair, trying to recall the blur of the past few days. To a degree, he does. Truthfully, the days melt into each other when it comes to work. The only way he knows that time has passed is through the habits the members have, along with your text messages. It’s not that he doesn’t care for himself but his life as an artist is always fast paced that even someone as seasoned as him still has trouble with telling the days apart. Despite that, he’s able to remember enough to give you a bit of story, though he ends it with a bashful confession of how the days just blur into each other sometimes. Your reassurance relieves him even if it’s a bit. It’s a little worrisome that he confuses the days when he works, he admits. 

When he realizes that he’s already full from the food, he lets out a content sigh. “Thank you for the meal, really.” He says, already feeling sleepy from how sated he feels. 

“Hey don’t fall asleep on me!” You whine as you nudge his calf under the table. “Help me put these away first!” It takes him awhile to regain his surroundings, food coma already coming in fast for him. Fortunately, he manages to get himself out of his lazy state to help you. 

Once all of that was over, the two of you lounge by the couch, letting the tv play whatever movie was playing. It’s only when the two of you are in your sleepwear that the exhaustion sets in. 

Your head finds comfort leaning against his arm. The two of you weren’t really paying attention to the movie, it was just there for white noise. Both of you were just basking in each other’s presence-- even if it meant Lily pads back and forth on the couch behind you. The two of you watch the feline bolt across the room, chasing after its own toys. As Lily bounces off, running after a ball, San takes a peek at you. “I know that look.” He says softly, careful to not startle you. “Wanna talk about what’s in your head?” He offers. 

Truthfully, he also had some thoughts in his head. Though, he still has trouble phrasing them out loud, he’d rather listen to you first. Maybe from there he’d get answers or relief from your thoughts as well. 

Your gaze has fallen from Lily running around to your hand just brushing against his and it’s when San speaks up softly that you snap out of your daze. “Hm?” You hum in response. “Nothing serious.” You reassure. “Just thinking of how we’ve become.” You add. How do you tell San the thoughts in your tangled head? There’s a lot of thoughts in there, verbalizing these thoughts still aren’t your forte. 

“Oh?” He replies, hoping to hear more of your thoughts. As much as he is talkative, taking the role of the ears was something he appreciates just as much. “Like how?” He asks, his palm upturned as an open invitation for you to hold his hand.

It takes a few moments for you to accept the invitation as you ended up just keeping your gaze on his open hand. “It’s just… I feel happy with you.” It’s not the answer he expected but he listens. “Not saying that I wasn’t happy without you, I felt happy and fulfilled on my own. I think,” You stop often, trying to find the right words. “There’s something about us now dating that makes my heart race.” 

“Is it a good kind?” San asks, leaning forward and shifting to face you properly. 

It’s hard to miss how intense his gaze can be despite the soft look in his eyes that it makes you look down at your hands that brush against each other. “Yeah, I like the feeling so far.” You admit. It’s a new feeling, the best way you can describe it is how you get so excited and nervous for the first day of doing something you love. Only instead of doing something, it’s knowing you have someone willing to stay by your side. 

It’s such a new feeling and you’re not sure of how to treasure it properly. 

 like, we went from these two awkward adults making ends meet with their jobs, still trying to get used to the fact we’re both in our early twenties.” The mention of the age makes him think back to those years. It feels a little weird to have started out like that to end up becoming the man he is today. He thinks back to his members, seeing each other grow and become their own individual selves outside the group. Eventually the thoughts go to you, the one sitting next to him with their arm looped around his. “Come to think of it, San. I did a lot of stupid things too back then… in hindsight, I could’ve reacted better and done things a little differently and maybe neither of us would’ve gone through such things but…” A soft sigh leaves your lips. “That’s life. We’ve learned from it from the looks of things.” 

Once you finish your thought, San’s features soften up. It’s not that he’s been wanting some kind of apology for how you acted, he’s moved past that by now. He’s been in good terms with you now but he still wonders just how vivid your thoughts are. After you spill your thoughts, he leans over to brush his lips against your temple. He doesn’t know why he does so but it just felt like he should. Having you lean into his affection was a thrill he doesn’t see himself getting tired of, it leaves such a warm feeling in his chest that he couldn’t help but pull you closer. “What has happened brought us to where we are now, so please, don’t beat yourself up for what happened.” He murmurs softly, pulling away to make you look at him in the eye. 

The two of you were so close. So painfully close, that one could just reach out a little and your lips could touch. No one makes a move though. Instead, the two of you look at each other, quiet content in the air. San closes the gap between the two of you by leaning his forehead gently against yours, giggling softly. 

“What?” You mumbled, slight confusion in your voice. The lack of distance now had your heart racing, the faint scent of his shampoo already had your head spinning. 

“Nothing,” he just giggles and quickly presses a kiss on your forehead. “The movie’s already finished. We barely even paid attention.” Already, the screen’s rolling credits along with bloopers in between. He glances at the time. It’s a habit of his when he’s had a long day. 

“Let’s go to sleep?” You offer, after he puts his phone down. He flashes a small smile. “What?” 

“I don’t have anything tomorrow, so I’ll be able to catch up on sleep.” He says with pride. A small part of you tightens in pain, you have a full day tomorrow. 

“Crap, I got a full day tomorrow. I can buy us fried chicken and maybe some soju to make up for it.” You explain. He looks at you and guilt shines in your eyes to which he shakes his head.

He squishes your cheeks together, producing a surprised yelp from you. “Babe,” he starts. “It’s okay, that’s work. You have to deal with me working crazy hours day in and day out, I don’t mind.” He explains. The way your lips pucker up makes him laugh. “At least bring home some mint choco ice cream too!” A thought of how your lips would feel against his passes his head. 

On the other hand, you felt your heart skip as he called you ‘Babe’. Maybe you can call him something similar down the line. His words bring you reassurance, managing to smile after he lets go of your cheeks. “I’ll buy you a big serving.” You promise as you stand up, stretching your now sleeping legs. San raises his arms to you, looking like a baby asking to be carried. With your utmost strength, you pull him to his feet. 

To be honest, ever since he slept with you in the same bed, it’s been a little weird to sleep on your own. He says hugging you makes him sleep better, but you can’t deny that sleeping in his arms does feel nice. Now that you’re settled under the blankets, he pulls you flush against his chest. “You sure it won’t get too hot for you like this?” You ask him once you make sure your alarm is ready for tomorrow. 

“Nope. I’ll be fine. You need to get your sleep. Do I need to sing you a lullaby?” 

You were thankful he couldn’t feel how hot your cheeks have become at such an offer. Maybe in the near future. Instead of saying anything, you just lace your fingers with his that were around your waist. “Go to sleep, Sannie. You got chicken, soju and ice cream waiting for you tomorrow.” Just as you were about to drift to sleep, you feel his nose nuzzle lightly against your neck. The last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his smile against your skin. 

--------

You wake up to your phone buzzing to start the new day. Something in you tells you staying at home is better but you press on. As much as sleeping in with San is nice, you need to earn money. 

A soft yawn slips from your lips, and you stretch just a little. It’s a little tricky to wake your body up when San’s warmth practically envelops your entire being. Regardless, you miraculously wriggle yourself free from San’s sleeping figure to get ready for the day ahead of you.   

You get ready for the day quietly, making sure to not make too much noise. Carefully, you manage to make yourself something filling and quick to eat on the way. Of course, knowing how late San wakes up on off days: you put his share in the fridge. A quick note is placed on the fridge, just something to let him know there’s some food for him if he doesn’t want to order take out. You also make sure to feed Lily as she’s already pacing around expecting food for the day. “Don’t disturb Sannie okay?” 

Before you leave, you press a quick kiss on his temple-- it was the only spot you could see as he practically buried himself in your blankets. How lucky. With that, you’re off to work. 

--------

It’s midday by the time San wakes up. Lily’s already on his chest, meowing at him to wake up. The weight on his chest gets him to his senses quickly as he scrambles for his phone. “What time is it…” He rasps out as the screen momentarily blinds him. 2.00 PM. He’d sleep more but it’s not an option when Lily’s impatient for her lunch. Once Lily knows he isn’t falling back asleep, she hops off him. Her tail swishes about in impatience and hunger. Once he was free, he rolls off the bed with a yawn. Feed her first before doing any of his morning routine. 

He’s wide awake by the time he gets out of the shower. Also, he’s hungry. He looks through his messages as he walks around your apartment. 

[ You to San: 8:00 AM ] hello hello! I made some food that you might want to eat once you wake up!

[ Wooyoung to San: 9:54 AM ] When can we eat with the two of you? :> 

[ Hongjoong to San: 1:45 PM ] We got a photoshoot three days from now. Don’t forget! 

You usually message him around noon to remind him to eat even if he was just in your apartment. But it’s already 2.45PM, he worries for a moment but he tries to chalk it up to you just having a full day. He checks the kitchen and sees the note that you stuck onto the fridge. 

You made rice balls and took some of the left over meat for your breakfast. This means that you made some for him too. He looks into the fridge once more if there’s any other food he could pair with the rice balls. He does: pickled radish, fermented anchovies and some beef with the rice balls. If he still wants more, he can go for take out while waiting for you. 

He spends what’s left of his day watching tv or playing games on his phone, all while entertaining a rather clingy Lily. 

[ San to You ] How are you? 

It’s been a couple of hours since you’ve made any message to him. It’s become the topic on his mind, being battled out by two opposing sides of: you’re probably busy or something’s wrong. There was another possibility that he didn’t consider until now: both. For his peace of mind and hopefully yours, he writes up a message for you.

[ San to You ] Babe, don’t stress about the food! Leave it up to me, just come back into my arms okay? 

[ San to You ] San_Duck.jpg

He looks at the time, he remembers you mentioning that you’ll be back by ten in the evening. That’s roughly five more hours of waiting and lounging about. He treasures the moments of silence and alone time he gets regardless of where he is: they’re a rarity in his field of work. His phone’s barely ringing from anything work related, but it rings when it comes to game invites. Who was he to turn down a match or two with his dear friends? 

For the next hour or two, he manages to entertain himself with a few games, all while Lily finds entertainment in his hoodie’s zipper. The only reason he stops is because Lily was about to pull his hoodie off from her insistent pulling and tossing about. “Alright alright, you’re really just like your owner huh?” He jokes under his breath as he stands up to play with the feline this time. 

In between playing with her, San manages to get some snacks in his system. With only less than three hours left before you arrive home, he orders take out for dinner for the two of you. 

All that’s left now is to wait. 

It’s already eleven. The food’s a little cold now, the ice cream and alcohol are in the fridge. Maybe he should heat it up again? Are you okay? He doesn’t know if he should worry or go out and look for you. Even Lily’s restlessly swishing her tail about by the door. He looks at his phone and your message comes in right on time. 

[ You to San ] Sorry work ended late.

[ You to San ] I couldn’t buy your favorites too.. 

Something definitely happened at work but he won’t ask through text. You’ll tell him anyways. 

[ San to You ] It’s fine! I’ll heat up our food ^^

When he stands up and picks up the food from the table, Lily looks up at him unblinking. “They’ll be late but they’re on their way home.” He replies, a bit of an attempt to reassure himself as well, while heating up the chicken and other meals he bought. 

You arrive at home at nearly midnight. Your bag being dropped somewhere in the hallway. The drop startled both San and Lily. He immediately jumps to his feet and peeks into the hallway, you’re there against the wall, running your fingers through your hair. He notes how you’re trying to pace your breathing. “Babe…?” He calls you softly, worry obvious in his eyes as he takes a careful step forward. “What’s going--” you run into his arms, and slowly, his shirt feels a little damp. A little surprised by the turn of events, he glances at Lily. The feline says nothing but approaches you, gently butting her head against your leg. Even she was worried by the sudden burst of tears. “Hey… let’s sit down, you’ve had a long day.” San ushers gently. He doesn’t make a move until you cry out the initial frustrations. 

He sits down first, letting you sit in between his legs, almost cradling you as you try your utmost best to stop crying. Lily pads over to the both of you, hopping onto the couch to keep an eye on you especially. San doesn’t say anything, letting you cry as much as you can, proving back rubs whenever your body shakes from tears you try to hold on to. 

Whenever his hand’s on your back, the tears keep flowing. No matter how hard you try to use your usual methods to stop crying, it still keeps going. “Need tissue..” you mumble through your sniffles. Already your boyfriend has one in his hand and he wipes your tears first, before attending to your nose. He reassures you to take your time, that you don’t need to tell him if you don’t have the strength to talk about it. Besides the reassurances, he reminds you to eat too. That’s when you realize you’ve been on an empty stomach for a long while now. You shift in his arms just to get some food in your system. 

As the two of you eat, the walls you tried to keep up earlier, come down. You tell him of a horrible meeting that set everyone a week back which could mean a longer delay down the line. It’s not your fault, you say over and over, wanting to believe your own innocence. No matter what you did to avoid this situation, it still happened because of uncooperative talents who decided not to tell anyone of their plans. Yet it fell on you, you were the point person for both sides yet because of their inability to communicate, the brunt of the chaos fell on you. All the pent up stress you kept away from San bursted today after that horrific meeting. The reason you left late was due to all the follow up meetings to rearrange the timeline of projects. The constant frustration and disappointment from everyone and yourself just broke you. As you explain, your voice breaks again that you had to put down the potato wedge. You try to control yourself again. You’ve cried too much. 

San has none of your insistent need to control yourself. He whispers soft praises and words of comfort. “It’s okay.” he would say as he feeds chicken pops to you. “You did everything you can and I’m proud of you still.” He would remind you as he urges you to drink water.  “Let me know who these are and I’ll give them an earful.” He threatens. While it sounds empty to the two of you, he knows just what to do should he know who these were. At one point, the tears continue again and he wonders just how much you’ve tried to keep from him no matter how many times he asks. Your lover sighs a little, pained to see you in such a position but he knows you need to let out all the things you’ve kept inside. He lets you cry it out but he also makes sure to wipe the tears that continue to run down your already tear stained cheeks. He could only imagine just how heavy you feel. “Can you look at me?” San asks gently. It takes a few heart beats but you eventually do. Eyes shining still with tears that have yet to shed, yet you manage to still have that flame in you to keep going. “Today’s one bad day. That’s okay.” he starts, cupping your cheeks because of how often you look away whenever he gets into these moods. He needs you to keep his eyes on him this time, just once. “Tomorrow’s another day. Another beginning. Your co-workers are aware now of how insufferable those talents are. They’ll come to their senses to apologize to you.” A small smile flickers in his serious visage when he hears you laugh a bit at his choice of words. “Also, it’s okay to cry. Don’t hold it in to yourself. Even if we’re both always so busy, you can talk to me or Jiwoo.” A meow comes from behind you and it makes the two of you look at Lily, pacing around the couch. “Of course, Lily’s here as well.” His thumbs run across your cheeks ever so carefully, wiping away the tear stains. “Promise me at least? Anything that bothers you, talk to anyone about it, even me.” 

You lean into his touch, your hands rest over his ever so lightly. At his words, your chest tightens at how worried he is for you. Your eyes close again, breathing slowly. “I will.” You say simply. It doesn’t surprise you anymore when you feel San’s lips flutter over your eyes, your cheeks, then your nose. The ticklish yet comforting feeling causes giggles to bubble out from your lips. Yet you don’t say anything, still so shy by how close he is to you. He doesn’t pull away yet, and you can’t open your eyes just yet. You can feel his gaze on you though and it makes you squirm a little, self conscious and curious of what’s San looking at exactly. His words, barely above a whisper, makes you sit still in between his legs. 

“Can I kiss you?” It didn’t take much for you to understand where he wanted to kiss you. For a moment you bite your bottom lip in thought at such a question. In your exhausted state, his question brings your brain out of the fog enough to make you nod. 

The kiss isn’t like those in dramas. There’s no music that plays in the background, no fireworks. It was just silence in your room and your heart beat in your ears. It’s not like the pop songs that talk of sweet lollipops and chocolate flavored kisses. This tasted of dried tears and take out food but it was familiar. It’s not like the books where they describe just how soft their lover’s lips were. This was a little chapped and rough but it felt so right. The kiss was a little clumsy, noses bumping along the way but it was something that made your day a little better. 

You never thought you could melt under someone’s affections and love. But here you are, feeling a little weak in his hold, wanting more of his lips against yours until either of you pull away for air. 

It takes a moment before the two of you pull away from the kiss. It wasn’t the most ideal situation to do so but it just happened naturally. He wished he could take the pain away from you but that’s not how life works. This was the best thing he could think of to comfort you. You lean against his forehead, a smile so faint, so soft, it reminds him of pillows just before sleep takes him. “Thank you.” You say softly. “Thank you for being with me.” 

You didn’t realize that your hands have slid over to loosely grip his shirt. 

 He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he tilts his head just a little, just to kiss the corner of your lips. “Anything for you.” He simply says. There’s relief in his shoulders when he sees how you’ve stopped crying, how the rain clouds in your head have cleared up. Giggles bubble out of your lips, slowly the you that the two of you know comes back. 

“Can I take a shower? I want to be in my pajamas.” You say, slowly regaining your surroundings. You were still rather hungry but you want the comfort of fresh new clothes. 

“Go ahead. I can clean up from here. I’ll see you in bed then?” he asks as the two of you stand up, putting all the bones and other trash in one bag. You press a quick peck on his cheek as thanks, scampering off quickly before you could see the shocked look on his face. It takes him a moment to get back to reality. “Ah, what am I going to do with you..” He asks to no one in particular. He feels Lily’s eyes on him, her ears flicking in what he assumes could be amusement. “What? I’m in love with them.”

--------

The two of you are finally in bed, getting ready to wind down. “What’s your schedule tomorrow? Er, well, today.” He asks as he towel dries your hair. 

“I come in at noon, they said they’ll look through the records as protocol.” You say simply. Now that your head’s clearer, you know that this won’t mean the end of your career with the production house. It could mean some reprimands but it’s not the end of the world for you. 

“Okay good, at least you get some sleep.” He muses, satisfied now with how dry your hair is now. He carefully combs through your locks.

“San If you keep that up, I’ll fall asleep on you like this.” How you managed to say that through a yawn was beyond you. 

“That’s okay, I can carry you.” He says without missing a beat but he stops either way, putting away the towel and comb. “Tell you what, by next week, let’s have dinner with the boys.” 

It’s a good idea. You miss the boys already and you wonder how they’ve been since the shoot. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll send you my schedule when we wake up then we can plan it from there?” 

The two of you shift a little in bed and as always, San’s arms finds their home around your waist, pulling you a little closer than usual tonight. “Sleep well, babe.” He murmurs softly against your neck. In return, you squeeze his hand just a bit. 

“You too, Sannie.” Tomorrow’s a new day. As long as you can have him, you can take on anything.

Relationships might be tricky but you’ll make it work.

Part 10

[collectionofcherries]

👀couldnt help but notice you talking about hannibal in your billy loomis imagine 👀 also couldnt help but to notice thats in your fandom list 👀 maybe you should shoot your shot with an imagine with hanni 👀

So over on my Naruto blog I did a little fluff piece called Morning Coffee that everyone seemed to enjoy so I thought I'd bring it here. It’s a simple concept, it follows your morning to the start of your cup to the end of it. Hope you enjoy! --- ☕ Morning Coffee ☕

---

written in the mind-frame of a Female!Reader but there are no pronouns mentioned nor gender specific anatomical body parts.  Warnings: None, flirting with the idea of smut but no actual smut. Sexual longing maybe? Word Count: 1,155

--- Hannibal Lecter

   Having coffee with a friend shouldn't have been this stressful, being this stressed in the morning couldn't be good for you but it wasn't like you could help it. How are you supposed to dress for morning coffee with a man who practically lives in three piece suits? Formal? Business casual? Casual casual? Your clothing covered floor seemed to bare no answers as you stared at what you swore was everything you owned...had everything always been this ugly? God! Why did you even propose a breakfast together? Hannibal does dinner but no you had to pitch breakfast to be different and try to impress him, yeah you're sure he'd be impressed by the amount of clothing on the floor. If you'd been like everyone else and just gone for dinner you'd have more time to try on clothes but a look at the clock told you that you had to leave now or you'd be late and that'd be terrible, that'd be rude and Hannibal can't stand people who're rude. However messy your floor was it was worth it for the compliment you got when Hannibal opened his door to greet you. “I don't see you in colour often, red looks lovely on you.”     Well, guess you're wearing red for the rest of your life.     "Oh thank you.” Finds it's way out of your throat as your face is painted the colour that apparently looks lovely on you.     “Please, come in.” He welcomes stepping to the side to allow room.    You never gave much thought to what a foyer could be, yours is technically where you just kick off your shoes and put your keys but this, this was proper foyer. Just the entrance to his house was nice. God it was big too, he could probably rent it out to a poor college kid for like 500 bucks if he wanted not that he looked like he needed the extra money. Did you even know how to say Foyer properly? You bet Hannibal did, without a doubt he knew all those fancy French words--was that word even French? Oh no, what if you were stupid and it wasn't French? What if this wasn't even a foyer? How dumb were you? H-- hands came up to your shoulders jolting you out of your spiral. Hannibal gently pulls the edges of your jacket and you immediately understand. “Thank you.” You repeat once again.    He smiles with a nod as he slides your jacket off of you with your help and hangs it up on a beautiful wood stand you're sure costs more than half your rent. Thinking about how much money was within these walls could make your head spin but that spinning is halted by the soothing tones of his voice. “Lost in thought?” He inquired.    “Uh, just early morning brain fog you know?” You try to bluff.    It's not convincing but he nods anyway. “Perhaps some coffee would help.”     “Sounds good.” You agree.    Following him through his house only furthers your awe, you could spent a lifetime in here just looking at stuff. “I thought it'd be pleasant to make breakfast together instead of having it ready, eating together is one experience but preparing a meal is another entirely.” He explained    The idea of sharing an experience with Hannibal was one that filled you with butterflies, the more you thought about it you didn't think you'd heard of Hannibal cooking with anyone else, maybe the stress of this morning would pay off after all. “I'm not a chef but I'll do my best, what're we making?”     “Uova al purgatorio.” Which leads to a bit of a blank stare on your end, as pretty as it sounds you've got no idea what that means. “It's an Italian dish, eggs in Purgatory.” He explained.    “Sounds interesting.” You quip.    “It is, the name comes from the eggs sitting in a tomato base, the white of the eggs floating within the red sauce giving the illusion of souls trapped within the unknown of Purgatory.” He explains as he prepares the boiling water for your coffee. “Even at breakfast it seems we wonder where our souls go to lay.”     “Well makes sense for Italy home of the Pope, I'm sure there's religious overtones at most meals.”    He smiles a little and nods. “During my time in Italy it truly does surround you, it's an interesting feeling, almost euphoric to be encapsulated by it at every

turn.” He remarked.    “Wow, you spent time in Italy? It looks beautiful there.” You say, trying to stray a little further from the religious aspect, you don't exactly know where Hannibal falls on that spectrum and the last thing you want to do is come across rude or disrespectful to him. “Coffee smells great.” You add as he pours the boiling water into his very fancy looking French Press.    Your attempt to change subjects doesn't go unnoticed at all but he once again nods as he looks at you. “Yes, I traveled quite a bit in my youth, I called Italy my home for some time.” He explains.     “Do you ever miss it?” You ask    “I take with me what I relish in the places I've been, while I may no longer be surrounded by the Primavera or the walls of Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini they are ever present in my mind, reproduced with the utmost detail.” You could listen to Hannibal talk all day, it wouldn't matter what he said you just like the way he said things, the timbre of his voice. “Have you ever given thought to travelling?” He prodded.    “Course, who doesn't think about travelling? See far off places, experience new people, new things, different cultures.” You reminisce.    “What stops you?”     You shrug a little. “Funds mainly but I'd want to take the time to learn the language of where I'm going, understand the culture so I don't offend anyone. I don't want to be one of those tourists that makes an ass out of themselves.” You said cringing at the end.    “It's considerate to take the time to understand a culture you will not live in, many go on whims like they're visiting amusement parks.” He agreed. “Would Italy be a place you'd like to visit or would you find their taste for religion leaving a sour taste in your mouth?” He asked.    Did you really think you'd get out of a question Hannibal wanted answered? You shrugged a little once again trying to make sure you phrase things that wouldn't step on toes that were in shoes that likely cost more than your rent. “I'm unsure...I don't know if my broader and more open views would be welcome in the narrower scope of such a religious place and I wouldn't want to impose myself or my views upon anyone.” You slowly clamber out as he pours two cups of what smells like incredibly coffee. “Thank you.” You quickly add as you take it from his hands.    “While I do know you enough to welcome you into my home, I'm not sure if I know you well enough to know of the open views you believe would be scrutinized under the gaze of the Church. Do you speak a broader view of all religions? Racial rights? Sexual appetite?”     You stomach almost leaps into your throat at the last question, talking sexual appetites with someone who could feed that said appetite for the rest of your life? How were you supposed to talk about that? You didn't want to impose but you certainly didn't want to miss any chance of feeding that appetite. “All of the above, you know?” You pitch at first. “I'm a big believer in religious freedoms for everyone, from anywhere--just freedom for everyone in general.” You tackle first, that's the more important one and the one that won't get you into any trouble. “And um--yeah I suppose my sexual appetite wouldn't please the Church.” You say with a small laugh breaking your gaze from Hannibal and down at your coffee cup. “Not exactly a born again virgin.” Smooth. Great job. Wow. Fuck. Maybe you could drown yourself in this coffee? You take a sip and to spite being too shy to ask for sugar or milk this coffee is great, actually smooth. Unlike you. “This is great, what is this?” You try.    Why do you try? He always notices, you're luckier than you know that it endlessly amuses him rather than annoys him. “It's Peaberry Coffee from Tanzania, it's a rounder sweeter bean, almost tea like.” He explains, allowing for a moment for you to believe you've somehow fooled him into letting his prior question go thoroughly unanswered. “It can take a more refined palette to taste all the notes.” He remarks.    “I don't know how refined mine is, I just know it's nice.”

You admit with a small laugh.    “Usually our tongues know more than we think, close your eyes and allow the flavours to dance over your tongue.” He instructed.    Hannibal could tell you to jump off a cliff and if he said it nice enough you probably would. You take a small breath and take another sip and try your damnest to impress Hannibal if only even a little but as you swallow you know your guesses are little more than shots in the dark. “It's sweet...kind of like a berry...?” You weakly pitch.    You're not wrong but Hannibal can tell your guess isn't confident. “Do you know you have a habit of coming in on yourself when you're unsure of what you're saying?” He asks letting you know he's been on to you for much longer than you would have hoped. He comes around from his large kitchen island to stand in front of you and you fight the urge to step back and away which only adds to how hard your heart beats in your chest. “Coming in on ones self allows negative neurons to fire, by simply lifting your head you'll allude more confidence and though red looks lovely on you so does that.” That compliment alone made your head spin so his next action of bringing his warm hand up to gently lift your head? Your entire body felt weak. It was laughable that the simple touch of his thumb resting on your chin and his forefinger below it could have such an effect on you, looking up at him him with unsure eyes as to where this went next was laughable to him. You were putty in his hands, vulnerable in every meaning of the word. "Try again, close your eyes and when you take a sip allow it to work around your mouth, to explore every inch of your tongue.”    Was this porn? This could be porn, this might as well be porn as far as your body was concerned apparently. It took you a moment to actually get your limbs to move and grab your coffee again and it felt good to close your eyes, you liked Hannibal but being so close and having him stare back at you was overwhelming. And he knew it, there was something very satisfying about your kind of vulnerability, it was raw and open for him to touch and mold with his hands. You brought the cup to your lips and took another sip and once again tried to find a defined note in this coffee and maybe it was having your head tilted up, maybe it was having him so close but an answer did come from your mouth. “Cedar?”    Opening your eyes you knew you'd gotten it right by the contented look you were rewarded with. "I had a hunch your tongue knew more than you were letting on.” He teased.    He let his thumb trail back and forth on your chin before moving it away and your head felt like it was floating. “What does your tongue taste? I'm sure it's much more experienced than mine.”     You're sure if you didn't feel so floaty such a blatantly flirty question wouldn't have come out of you but it seemed to fly just fine as a small amused breath made it's way out of him. “Your assumption would be correct.” He let you know. “The notes in this coffee I've become very acquainted with over the years so it wouldn't be much of an exercise in taste for me to tell you them all. Perhaps another breakfast we could expand upon both our tongues.” Your entire body clenched and you had to practically drown out your whine of want by taking a sip of your coffee. “For now we'll be expanding on yours, come, wash up I'll show you how to make uova al purgatorio, a taste from my past.” He said walking back around the kitchen island.    You follow him around the island and with one last sip put your empty coffee cup into the sink. --- ~Admin Coral 🍒 Buy Me A Coffee?

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

compromise is made out of peace but history's made out of violence

Fandom: Kamen Rider Amazons Characters: Mizusawa Haruka, Izumi Nanaha, Takayama Jin / Chihiro, Nagase Hiroki / Mizusawa Mizuki, several orphanage children Song: "Sing Along," Sturgill Simpson (playlist here) Warnings: Well, this is Amazons fic, so if you've watched Amazons I'm sure you can guess, but--TW for references to cannibalism, although there is no actual violence. There is also, in the third part, a small amount of blood.

well i know you know that you’re killing me, but it’s worth it just to see you smile

.

The couch in Jin’s apartment is old and beat-up and not especiallycomfortable, but Nanaha’s draped one of her many shawls over it, and so it makes the entire room seem warm anyway. Haruka sits nearly at attention, nervous, hands half-folded on his knees, and says, again, “Thank you, Ms. Nanaha.”

She just flaps a hand at him from where she’s working in the kitchen. “It’s fine, I like to cook. And I figured having you over might keep Jin on his toes, he gets too full of himself.”

The entire apartment smells of food, rice in the cooker and vegetables and spices and sauces and chicken. Especially chicken. Haruka shuts his eyes and breathes the scent in, and it calms him so much that when he realizes how good he feels he’s shaken again. Did meat always smell so extraordinary? It was difficult to sit while she was cutting it up; he wanted to offer to help just so he could steal bites, eat it raw and feel the texture against his teeth…

He shakes himself, keeping his eyes shut, and Nanaha says, very calmly, “See, this is why I didn’t let you help. I can’t let Jin in the kitchen when I’m cooking at all.”

“I—” He flushes hot. “You can tell what I’m thinking about?”

“Not really, just an educated guess. Jin tilts his head the same way when he’s thinking about food.” Suppressed laughter audible in the back of her throat. “Among other things. Anyway, if you eat all the chicken raw then you won’t get to taste it when it’s cooked. You can help with dishes after, Jin’s terrible at that.”

He nods, eyes still shut against his own embarassment. “Yes, Ms. Nanaha.”

Another deep sniff, and it’s astonishing, how he can smell the meat in the pan, tracing the shifts in its flavor as it cooks and soaks in sauce. There’s another scent, too, underlying the cooking food, and he’s not sure what it is, but it’s intoxicating.

The floor creaks, the fridge door opening, and the strange scent moves too, and Haruka’s eyes snap open as he realizes that what he smells is Nanaha, and she smells like food.

He’s so hungry. And she’s right there. It would be so easy, she’s not even two meters away and just smelling her he can almost taste—

The apartment door opens, and a moment later Jin thumps down on the couch next to him and murmurs, cheerily, “Teeth off my girl.”

“I, I wasn’t, I don’t—”

“’course you do.” Jin slaps him on the back, almost friendly. “Who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t talk about eating me like I can’t hear you,” Nanaha says, not looking up from her cooking. “Dinner’s almost ready, anyway, you can control yourselves for two minutes.”

Haruka buries his face in his hands. “Does it ever stop, Jin? Are we always hungry?”

He can hear Jin grinning. “Always, always. It’s about self-control, Haruka. Secret is, when you get down to it, we’re all made out of meat. Me, her.” Hand on his shoulder, mouth next to his ear. “You. It’s all meat.”

Haruka shudders, and then shudders again as he realizes that he can still smell Nanaha, that she smells like she would be the best meal he’s ever had. And he can smell Jin too, different, gamey but good, and his mouth is watering.

The edge of a plate bumps his hand, and he looks up at Nanaha, who smiles down at him and says, “Here. Dinner. It’ll take the edge off.”

--

bitter air and the winds of spite

.

Chihiro has been sleeping on the floor of Hiroki’s bedroom for a week, ever since the day after he ran away from 4C, and he’s not sure he can stand it anymore.

It’s not the floor itself, the floor is fine. He’s got a few blankets. He’s got a pillow. The carpet is soft and not dirty, because as much as Hiroki tries to talk big and act rough he likes his things to be clean. The room is warm and full of life. But Hiroki is in bed, asleep, and the smell of him is overwhelming.

He tends to fall sleep on his stomach, vulnerable, the back of his neck exposed. One of his arms dangles over the edge of the bed, so close that Chihiro could reach out and grasp it. Breathing slow and even, pulse steady.

Chihiro drifts off with his mouth watering.

Later in the night he wakes, and the scent is still there, Hiroki in the bed so close by smelling like prey for the eating. Slow and sleepy, he sits up and says, “Hey, Hiroki?”

No answer but an unconscious sigh, and then Hiroki rolls over onto one side, facing the wall, his back entirely open. He’s slim, too, even in the dim light Chihiro can practically count his vertebrae, and in counting become lost in a dreamy imagining of what they might taste like when crushed between his teeth.

He's moving before he’s even really aware of it, like a sleepwalker, crawling the short distance from his nest of blankets to the edge of the bed. The closer he gets, the more the scent fills his nose until he’s certain he can taste it, the siren call of fresh meat making his mouth hang open. He leans forward and presses his face close to the back of Hiroki’s neck and breathes it in, drowsy and hungry, and oh, it would be so easy to taste, so easy to bite—

He’s scrambling backwards right as Hiroki wakes up with a startled snarl of, “What the fuck do you think you’re, Chihiro, what the fuck.”

Chihiro’s already hiding himself in his blankets again as he stammers out, “Sorry, I’m, I don’t, I mean, I think I was asleep, I think I was dreaming, I’m sorry.”

Hiroki stares at him for a long moment, looking affronted and alarmed, and then says, “Just stay off my bed and don’t be a fucking freak. Go back to sleep.”

Chihiro mumbles assent and pulls a blanket over his head. “I’m sorry,” he says again, even as he rolls the scent around his mouth, the memory of that pulse so close to his teeth, and tries to pretend that his stomach isn’t growling.

---

after the war of the words has ceased all that’s left is the deafening silence

.

The staff of the orphanage was always minimal, and with the death of the principal the others all fled, leaving Mizuki to handle everything. Her mother has somehow managed to transfer the orphanage accounts to her, so managing things isn’t especially difficult. They’re mostly self-sufficient, anyway; most of what the children eat, they grow themselves, and they’re all learning to cook together.

Tonight they’re making rice bowls. The rice is already cooking, of course. Two of the older girls are cutting up vegetables, a younger boy is mixing a sauce, and Mizuki is cutting tofu. The tofu is homemade too; she’s been consistently surprised and delighted by how good it is. She was mostly a vegetarian already before coming here, for reasons that she doesn’t ever plan on explaining to anyone here, but the food they make together has made it a pleasure.

The girls are singing a song together, cheerful and bright, and as Mizuki looks up to ask if they can teach her the words, her knife slips and opens a red gash along one finger. She yelps, dropping the knife and grabbing for a square of paper towel to keep from bleeding on the tofu.

The kitchen has gone still.

The girls are staring at the bloody knife, now on the floor next to Mizuki’s feet. The boy, Kuhi, is frozen with his whisk in the sauce, gaze fixed on her cut finger. Mizuki stares back at them, blood soaking into the paper towel, and for a moment.

For a moment.

She feels hunted.

And then the children all visibly shake themselves and she fights the feeling back and says, “Kuhi, could you go get the kitchen first aid kit, please? Natsu, please find me another knife, I’ll get this one into the sink but I don’t want to use it on the food anymore until it’s been thoroughly cleaned. Shina, I’d appreciate it if you’d check to make sure none of the tofu got blood on it, we should throw away any that’s gotten contaminated.”

They all nod, and Kuhi runs to the corner of the kitchen where the first aid kit is stored while Mizuki gets her knife into the sink and washes her hands. It’s not a bad cut when it’s cleaned, it was just the location making it look nasty.

Kuhi bumps her elbow with his head when he comes back, affectionately, and says, “Do you need me to help you bandage it?”

She nods. “That’d be very helpful, Kuhi, thank you.”

The tension doesn’t come back into the room, even when he’s wrapping gauze around her finger and taping it closed. Smiling, she reaches out and brushes hair from his face with her uninjured hand. “Thank you very much, Kuhi. I appreciate your help.”

He nods, smiling brightly at her. “Of course, Miss Mizuki.” The end of the tape goes neatly into place. “We love you.”

“I know.” She hugs him, watching Shina hesitate over the trash can before she throws away the few cubes of bloodied tofu. “I love you all too.”

[ohkiyo]

characters: shiratorizawa team, reader, sakusa kiyoomi, and komori motoya. (quick appearance)

warnings: none, just some good ‘ol fluff.

word count: 5.1k

a/n: this is like a peace offering for not posting any content for the last two or three weeks (?), I also did not intend for this to reach over 5k+ words lol, so hopefully you won’t get bored reading this one. I also gave up editing this somewhere in the middle, so yeah that’s that hahaha. XD

anyways have fun and enjoy! :D

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

    shiratorizawa navigation || stth navigation

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

“We’re going on a trip in our favorite rocket ship, zooming through the sky! Little Einsteins~” both you and Goshiki bounce on your seat at the back of the bus, singing the theme song of the cartoon you two watch for fun a few days ago. “Climb aboard, get ready to explore there’s so much to find little Einsteins~”

“Aren’t they excited?” a fond smile made its way into Semi’s face as he watches the two first years belting their hearts out to a song made for children. Tendou and Yamagata joining the two, causing the overall noise inside the bus to increased in volume. Their English pronunciation was horrible, but it didn’t stop them from sharing their – talent.

Kawanishi, who was two seats away from the four was also humming along, snacking on a chocolate bar, his phone on his hand capturing it all on camera, probably for future blackmail material. While Shirabu who was seated beside him, continues to sleep, unbothered by the ruckus happening inside the bus.

“This is their first time going to Tokyo after all” Reon answered, before he tilted his head to the side when they switch to a different song, this time, it was Tendou’s famous baki baki ni ore. “Since when did Satori taught them that?”

“Probably since the moment they joined”

They were currently on their way to Tokyo for a practice match with another college volleyball team, the colleges that they use to play against in Miyagi were coincidentally busy with academics, something about an upcoming exam that they need to prepare for so they had to cancel.

Fortunately, with Shiratorizawa being a powerhouse school, Coach Saito and Washijou-sensei had connections to institutions outside of Miyagi. So they called up a friend who’s currently handling a college volleyball team and requested for a practice match.

The singing lasted for another thirty minutes before they eventually fell asleep, the bus now quiet. Washijou-sensei who was seated up front, let out a sigh of relief, thankful for the silence, something that Semi and Reon didn’t fail to notice. The two chuckled, as strict as he may be, Washijou-sensei knows when to let his players have their fun, he isn’t exactly a killjoy like some had thought. He’s actually very nice, once you get to know him of course.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

“You’re allowed to go sightseeing but please always bring a buddy with you, to prevent anyone from getting lost” his eyes landed on the older members, silently asking them to keep a close eye on their two first years. “Washijou-sensei and I will be meeting up with Coach Sasaki, so be back before 11”

Everyone nods their heads at his words before the two finally entered the elevator once it reaches your floor. The hotel you were staying at was a bit high class, you don’t know how the club’s fund covered it, but you weren’t complaining.

Each one of you had your own separate room, each guest had three food slips with, one was a free access to an eat-all-you-can food at the dining area’s buffet, while the other two were for a free breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

“So...” Tendou turned around, a grin plastered on his face as he held up the food slip the receptionist gave earlier. “Let’s go fill up our belly and enjoy Tokyo’s nightlife”

With that all nine of you piled into the elevator and press the button for the ground floor, the space a little too tight for your liking. The elevator stops at another floor, two new people entered, resulting in them moving backward to create a space for the newcomers, leaving you to press yourself to the wall.

“Sorry (Y/n)” Ushijima whispered, after accidentally stepping on your foot, he looks over his shoulder as you gave him a thumbs up. Your face now buried on his shirt, his perfume entering your nostrils.

He sure does smell nice, no wonder the girls are after him.

Luckily, for you, your struggle did not last long because finally, the elevator reaches the bottom floor. You swore you almost past out because of how cramp that space was, you feel like you were starting to develop claustrophobia because of it. For a fancy hotel, they sure have very small elevators.

Your group weaves through the other guest inside the hotel, some of them going back to their rooms; some were going the same way as you all were, while the others were going out to enjoy whatever Tokyo has to offer.

“Tokyo hotels are on another level” you whispered, following after them as they went over to where the eating utensils were placed. You carefully scanned the foods displayed, cuisines coming from different countries were all too delicious-looking, you feel like you want to have a plate of each.

“You’re drooling (Y/n)” you heard Shirabu say as he walks past you, the person that was standing behind the counter chuckled as you rub the spit that unknowingly trickled down your chin.

“Sorry”

“It’s fine” she laughs again before she suggested the lamb meat for you to taste. You haven’t tried lamb before so you accepted her offer, watching as she threw in a bunch of slices into the grill. “Well done or medium?”

“Well done please” she started tossing the meat around the steel griddle, the wonderful smell reaching your nose. It smelled so delicious, as the meat slowly turns to that familiar charred look of a well-cooked meat. Once she was done, she places it on your plate as she suggested for you to drizzle it with some of the sauce near the grills.

You moved from one area to another, filling your plate with foods before finally taking a seat on the table they occupied.

“Now we know who are the best people to bring to buffets” Yamagata mused, eyeing yours and Goshiki’s plate filled with different kinds of food, not only that, there were at least one or two more plates on the side also filled with foods.

“They’re big eaters”

Kawanishi took a piece of meat from your plate, exchanging it with a fried dumpling that he accidentally dipped in a spicy sauce. He can handle his spice, however, this particular dip was so spicy his mouth was burning from it.

“Kawanishi-san why…?” you took the glass of cold water Ushijima offered you as you drank it all. It didn’t help though, your mouth was still burning, so Semi fed you a spoonful of chocolate ice cream, the dessert finally easing the flames in your mouth.

“Sorry (Y/n)” Kawanishi bit his lip to stop the smile threatening to come out, secretly sharing a low five with Tendou from under the table. However, that didn’t go unnoticed from Semi’s watchful eyes, stepping on the red head’s foot, Semi shoots him a pointed look as Tendou tries to remove his leg.

“Ow, ow, Semi-Semi that hurts”

The setter didn’t listen to him and continued eating his meal, they all ate in silence after that. Too hungry to strike a conversation with each other, their attention focus on the food in front of them.

Dinner went by fast, once they had finished their food they went out of the hotel and walk through Tokyo. The streets are a little too crowded than the ones they’re used to in Sendai, passing by different kinds of coffee shops, restaurants, inns, and hotels. The choices were endless, it all depends on where you all plan to go.

“Let’s go there first, I want to buy some manga” Tendou pointed at a rather large book shop just across the street, customers walking in and out of the store, wrapped packages in hand.

The inside was filled with rows and rows of shelves full of books, such as novels, textbooks, and of course, manga, on the sides were a section for school supplies and other similar materials. Tendou looks like he’s in heaven because the store offers manga that wasn’t available in Sendai. The moment his foot steps inside the store, he immediately disappeared behind the shelves where the manga was displayed.

“Wasn’t this the book Yato-sensei told us to buy?” Shirabu opened the textbook, skimming through its contents.

“Its ¥2,000” Kawanishi taps the price tag of the same book he’s holding. Shirabu pinches his lips together, closing the book and putting it back to where it belonged.

“Nope, I’ll just borrow from the library”

They move to the end of the aisle to see you holding a basket filled with different kinds of stationeries, Reon and Ushijima also going through the pens and notebooks they had on display before dropping it inside the basket you were holding.

“That’s a lot of pens (Y/n)” Goshiki drops a couple packs of sticky notes in your basket before grabbing a pen and examining it. The little penguin at the top sparking his curiosity as he clicks it, the ball-point emerging from the bottom part of the object.

“My pen’s keeps on disappearing, along with my highlighters and I don’t know who’s taking them” Goshiki stayed quiet at your reply, blinking at you, once, then twice before he slowly returned it in the basket. Reon let out a quiet laugh, fully aware that it was Goshiki who keeps taking your school supplies and not returning them.

Goshiki grabs three more pens and two more highlighters, the exact number of stationeries he took then dropping it in the basket. “I’ll buy these for you (Y/n)-chan”

You smiled at him in gratitude, standing in line at the cashier. “Thank you ‘Tomu-kun”

After paying for the items, you were once again back to the cold street. Aimlessly walking towards your next destination.

“Let’s go to a karaoke bar” Yamagata suggested, zipping up his jacket as the cold had become a little too much for him. Letting out a shiver from the cold air.

“Sure” they located the nearest karaoke bar, entering the establishment. They paid for the amount required for a one-hour session, before entering an empty room. Semi, Tendou, and Yamagata going for the songbook and choosing what song they’re going to sing, while you, Goshiki, and Ushijima went through the menu instead.

“So who’s first?” Tendou’s hand shot up as Yamagata gave him the mic, pressing his song’s code as the title flash on the screen.

“You’re singing Lion King?” Semi laughs watching as Tendou dance around to the song’s opening beat.

“The song has been stuck in my head for a long time now” the redhead cleared his throat before he started singing the first verse.

“There’s a Japanese version of that song?” Kawanishi whispered in surprise, Tendou’s jolly voice and merry demeanor fitting so well with I Just Can’t Wait To Be King’s upbeat tune. It was as if the song was made for him.

10:15pm.

There were only 15 minutes left before the one hour expires, Shirabu was singing some sort of heartbreak song, while sitting on top of Kawanishi who was laying sideways munching on some chips. Totally unbothered by the weight on top of him.

The setter ends his song, a cue for everyone to start packing their stuff and go back to the hotel before Coach Saito and Washijou-sensei catches them still walking around after curfew.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

It’s been three hours since you went to bed and unfortunately not once were you able to get a wink of sleep, nightmares were plaguing your mind. Two people, you’ve never met before constantly visits you in your dreams. It was a man and a woman, you couldn’t see their face but their voices you could hear.

They sometimes try to talk to you, asking how you were doing, if you were alright, or simply saying words of encouragement whenever you were feeling down. Sometimes they were accompanied by another girl, a teenager, who looks like the 15-year-old version of your aunt.

Once again, you turned on your side, pulling your blanket a little closer, screwing your eyes shut. However, it wouldn’t work, so you sat up, and check your phone.

1:30 am.

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating whether or not you should bother one of your teammates. They had a game tomorrow and you don’t want to disturb their sleep, but you were getting restless, and you’re afraid that you might not be able to fall asleep at all.

Finally making up your mind, you got up from your bed, grabbing your phone, key card, before exiting your room. Walking down the hallway towards Goshiki’s room, you have a feeling he’s still awake since he likes to play games until the wee hours of the night.

Standing on his door, you knock twice, pulling at the bottom of your shirt as you look left and right. The empty hallway looking a little too creepy for your liking, you knock again and this time it finally opened, a half-asleep Goshiki greeting you.

“(Y/n)?” he rub his eyes as he opened the door wider, letting you inside. “Did you have nightmares again?”

You nodded your head. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Sure” you followed him to his bed as he took the other side and you on the other. Both of you laying under the covers facing each other. “Better now?”

“Yes, thank you” he gave you one last sleepy smile before closing his eyes. So far, Goshiki was the only one who knows of your nightmares, after he discovered you one time during your first training camp crying under a table.

He was the one who comforted you and offered to let you sleep with him, it somehow became a routine and whenever you would knock on his door, he immediately knows what’s wrong.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

The door to Goshiki’s room burst open as a group of panicked Shiratorizawa upperclassmen barge into the room. Goshiki having heard of his door nearly tearing off its hinges, sat upon his bed. “Senpai?”

Semi marches over to him, grabbing his shoulders and basically shaking him awake. “(Y/n)’s gone, she’s not in her room. We can’t find her anywhere”

“What?”

“Oh man, oh man. If the coach finds out we’re screwed” Yamagata and Tendou grips their hair in frustration, as Reon and Ushijima discuss the possibilities of your disappearance. Kawanishi and Shirabu though were the only ones calm in this situation. 

“Huh?” Goshiki’s brain still wasn’t working though as he still sat there in a daze, unaware of the growing problem his upperclassmen were having.

Kawanishi ruffles his hair as he looks around the room, shifting from one foot to another, before his eyes landed on a lump he failed to notice before that was beside the first year. He taps Shirabu on the shoulder then pointing at the said lump, who was starting to move, leaning dangerously close to the edge of the bed before falling off and landing on the floor with a thud. Bringing the blanket along with them.

“What?” they watch as you continued to snore away on the floor, the fall clearly didn’t affect you in the slightest.

Shirabu shots Goshiki a look of suspicion as the rest shakes you awake. “Why is (Y/n) sleeping with you?”

He didn’t really get any answer because Goshiki just looks at him, still half-asleep.

A scandalized gasp left Tendou’s lips as he points a shaky finger towards the spiker. “Did you and (Y/n) do something? You’re only first years, wait until you’re in college!”

“Satori, what are you talking about?”

“Tendou, I think you took this the wrong way” Ushijima’s hand landed on Tendou’s shoulder, as the redhead whips his head to the captain.

“But Wakatoshi-kun you can’t be too sure!”

“(Y/n) probably got scared and went to Tsutomu for help” Reon started pushing them all out of the room. Semi carrying you, still wrap in Goshiki’s blanket, leaving the first year still sitting on his bed. Once his door clicks shut, he fell back on his bed and went back to sleep.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

“Let’s have a good game!”

You carefully arrange the water bottles and towels on the bench as your team and the college team had their match. Diligently doing your duties as a manager.

“Hello” you look up to see your opponents’ manager standing there, giving you an easy smile, stretching out her hand for you to take. “My name is Mikana Ritsu, nice you meet you”

“(L/n) (Y/n), nice to meet you too Mikana-san” you answered, grasping her hand and giving it a firm shake.

She took a seat on the spare bench, with you taking the place beside her. “I didn’t know they had a manager, are you new?”

“Yes, I’m a first year. I started just a few months ago”

She let out a hum in response as the both of you observe the game in silence, leaving your spot once in a while to assist your respective players before sitting back down again and watching the game. From beside you, Mikana lets out a long yawn as she covers her mouth with the clipboard she’s holding.

“Are you tired Mikana-san?”

She nodded, another yawn leaving her lips. “I had to stay up very late last night for my research paper” she chuckled. “Sleep is very hard to come by when you’re in college”

You turn to look at the older girl, a question forming in your mind due to your curious nature. “Mikana-san, how is college like?”

She taps her chin for a moment, looking up at the ceiling to figure out the best answer for your question. “It’s an emotional roller coaster you know? One moment you’re smiling, then the next you’re crying your eyes out”

She turns her body to look at you. “I remember during my first year that my history teacher vowed to fail all of us because the school has enough students already”

You look at her incredulously, surprised at what she said.

“She made her exams and quizzes very difficult, and her projects were also very ridiculous” she huffs in annoyance, bad memories resurfacing. “We didn’t understand at first why she was doing it, but eventually we found out that she was having problems with her dissertation and she’s taking out all her frustrations on us”

You stared at her wide-eyed, your mouth open agape. The fuck? “We all passed though, so suck for her”

“That was just mean”

“I know right?” she lets out a sigh, before standing up from her seat and re-wrapping their setter’s fingers with tape. Tying it to his preferred tightness before she went back to her spot and him going back into court. “Then we have our thesis”

“Oh yeah, I sometimes see students having breakdowns because of it. Is it really that bad?”

“The process of doing it is very hard, because not only do you have to choose your own topic, you have to choose a very specific one and one that has a lot of references available” you nodded your head, listening to her every word. “Getting rejected is fairly common, so you have to go through the process again and then present it to your panelist”

“When you do your defense, is it scary?”

She laugh at your choices of words, but she can’t really deny it though, because she did felt scared whenever they had a defense. “It’s nerve-wracking honestly, you have to prepare an answer for every possible question or else they’ll reject your paper”

“And you have to repeat all over again” she nods. “That’s so tiring”

“It is, but we have to comply or else we’ll never graduate”

“True”

You both talk throughout the game, until the final whistle was blown and the match finally ended, your team winning the match.

“Shiratorizawa High is still as strong as ever I see” she mused, watching as both teams gave each other a bow. “Congratulations (L/n)-chan”

“Thank you Mikana-san”

You both went on your separate ways, tending to your own players. Giving them their towels, and water bottles along with their snacks. After your final goodbye, you all entered the bus, driving back towards your hotel. It was still early, 3:00 pm in Tokyo is still very lively compared to in Sendai. Most people prefer to stay indoors due to the intense heat, however, a bustling city will always be busy no matter what time of the day.

“We’ll be leaving early tomorrow, so if any of you have anything buy. Souvenirs and other things, you can do so right now. But as always, bring a buddy with you and be back by 11” Coach Saito reminded one last time, before he and Washijou-sensei went inside the hotel, probably to rest and get some sleep before they go out again.

“I actually have some things to buy at the mall” Semi started adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“Me too” Yamagata said, rummaging through his bag to find his phone, he almost started panicking when he didn’t saw it, but immediately let out a relieved sigh when he saw the device hiding under his sweaty shirt.

“We saw some souvenir shops a few blocks away from here, we’ll be over there”

Once everything was settled and everyone had decided where they want to go. You all separated, Semi, Reon, Ushijima, Yamagata, and Shirabu going to the mall to buy the things they needed while you, Tendou, Kawanishi, and Goshiki decided to walk around instead.

Going through the various shops that were selling different types of souvenirs from shirts to mugs, to keychains and other kinds of stuff.

“(Y/n)-chan, do you have my phone with you?” Goshiki patted his pockets as he looks for the said device.

“It’s in my bag” to patted the backpack you were carrying, adjusting it on your shoulder before letting out a groan at how heavy it is. “Kawanishi-san can we exchange bags? This one’s very heavy”

He nodded his head, pulling the strap over his head as you exchange bags, you let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the strain on your shoulders are now gone. The smell of freshly cook taiyakis catching your attention as the four of you speedwalk towards the stall making it, the food still hot and fresh.

“Ah, hot, hot, hot” Tendou rapidly let out a breath of air to cool down the burning of his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Not expecting for it to be too hot.

You gently blew on your taiyaki, waiting for it to cool down, before you started taking small bites. As your group resume walking along the streets, you spotted a shop filled with trinkets, calling for their attention you all entered the store.

They had a wide range of displays, and although some were a bit expensive, it wasn’t stopping you from buying what you want. The allowance your Aunt gives you every week could literally last you a month, and so any extra money you had, you deposit it in your bank account and wait for the time when you have to use it.

Walking over to Kawanishi, you took your wallet from your bag before you walk off to where they had plushies on display, that dolphin plushy the only thing on your mind right now. Taking the dolphin from its spot on the shelf, you examined it, before looking at a similar one but this time it was a bit bigger. Not too much, so you were contemplating which one to buy.

“The big one looks very comfy though” Goshiki appears beside you, holding a scarf, a cap, and a sweater. “You can snuggle it to sleep”

“Yeah, but don’t you think it’s a little too big?”

He observes the two carefully taking in their size, but still, he preferred the bigger one, so you followed his suggestion.

“Oh! Why not take this one too?” he grabs a tomato plushie of the same size. “Tomato-chan~”

You flick him on the forehead. “I can’t believe you’re sticking with that nickname”

“It’s funny though” he grinned at you.

“Tsutomu, (Y/n) let’s go” the both of you didn’t hear Tendou called you out, as the two of you stayed there. Goshiki insisting that he buys the tomato plushie for you, while you immediately denying his offer because it was already too much. It cost about a thousand yen, and he still has the items he’s holding. Not only that, you still remembered how he bought you those pens and highlighters last night.

The bell hanging at the top of the door rang as the two middle blockers left the shop, unknowingly leaving the two of you behind.

They cross the street, turning a few more corners. Before they were back to the same book store everyone went to last night. Tendou wanting to buy a few more mangas, then Kawanishi forgot he needs to buy a new calculator because he broke his old one. He could just buy one in Sendai, but why wait when he could just do it now?

“(Y/n) can you get my wallet? It’s in the-“ Kawanishi turns around, but no signs of the two first years. He looks from left to right, thinking that maybe they’re just around the corner, but alas, there were no Goshiki, and (Y/n).

“Uh… Tendou-san” Kawanishi tugs on the red head’s jacket as Tendou turns around.

“Hmm, what is it Taichi?”

“(Y/n) and Tsutomu are gone”

Tendou’s eyebrows furrowed as he looks behind the second year, thinking that maybe he was just pulling a prank on him, but still, like before, no first years in sight.

“Oh dear”

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

“I can’t believe you actually bought the tomato plushie” you stared at the red-colored plush inside the bag you were holding. Both of you exiting the shop.

“Told you I’d buy it” he looks proud though, you don’t know why, but you’re very grateful for the gift. You note to yourself to get him something in return in the future. “Are Tendou-san and Kawanishi-san still inside?”

“Maybe” he went back inside the shop, as you waited outside the door. When he went back out, he looks worried, which also made you worried.

“Something wrong?”

“They’re not inside”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He rub his arms, as he went back inside again to check. But still, they weren’t there anymore, walking back out, he shook his head.

“Did they just left us?”

“Probably”

“Should we go find them?” you started fidgeting on your spot, before you remembered, you had Kawanishi’s bag with you. Opening his bag you located his phone only to be left disappointed when you find out it’s dead. “Great, now we can’t contact them”

“Should we go back to the hotel instead?”

“I don’t even know which way our hotel is”

Both of you shared a heavy exhale, retracing your steps to where you both felt your hotel was located. However, you both accidentally took a wrong turn and were now in a different part of the city.

“I knew leaving that place was a bad idea”

“Oh. Aren’t you two from Shiratorizawa?” you saw two persons walking over your direction, wearing a light green and yellow track jacket and track pants.

“Yes” you answered, the one who was currently talking looks nice, you don’t know about his companion though. Even with half of his face covered with a mask, you could still feel the intensity of his stare.

“Ah. I’m Komori Motoya, and this is Sakusa Kiyoomi” he pointed to his friend. “We’re from Itachiyama, we went against your school before”

Itachiyama, the school is familiar, but these two? Not very much. However, they seem nice.

“Are the others with you?” Komori looks around the vicinity. “I don’t see them”

“Uh…”

“You got lost didn’t you?” it was Sakusa who asks this time and Komori let out a laugh.

“We can’t contact them because this phone is dead-” you showed them Kawanishi’s phone. “-and it’s also the only one we have right now”

Komori turns to look at Sakusa. “You have Ushijima’s number right? Why don’t you give him a call, they might be worried right now”

Wordlessly, Sakusa fished his phone from his pocket and dialed your captain’s number, pressing the loudspeaker button. It rang a few times before Ushijima finally picks up.

“Hello?”

“We found your stray” Sakusa answered before putting the phone in front.

“Ushijima-san!”

”(Y/n)? Goshiki? Where are you two?”

You both look at the two, but Komori answered for you. “We’re in front of the Kamakura coffee shop, where are you?”

“In front of the Marimo bookstore [1]”

“Alright stay there, we’ll be there in ten minutes”

“Alright”

The call ended and the four of you made your way towards the bookstore, Komori was the only talkative one between the two, instantly befriending the both of you. Although Sakusa would sometimes participate in the conversation, majority of it, he prefers to listen.

“So, what are you doing here in Tokyo?” Komori questioned.

“We had a practice match with a college team today” Goshiki answered, holding your hand to avoid getting separated from the group, his initial fear from when he discovered you two got left behind still present.

“Are teams in Miyagi too weak to handle Shiratorizawa?” Sakusa’s eyes momentarily shift in your direction before focusing forward.

“I guess so” you shrug your shoulders, you were told no high schools in Miyagi wants to have a joint practice with your school anymore, and you don’t really know the reason behind it. So you can’t really say they’re all weak.

Thankfully ten minutes later, you arrive at Marimo Bookstore to see your seniors waiting in front of the building in worry.

“(Y/n), Tsutomu. There you are!” Tendou was about to give you two a big hug, but Semi beat him to it by bonking the two of you on the head.

“You idiots! What did I say about wandering around?!”

“We weren’t wandering around! We were just inside the shop when Tendou-san and Kawanishi-san left us!” you replied with a pout, rubbing your head as Semi shot the two a glare as they both look away. Kawanishi casually whistling a tune whilst Tendou rocks himself back and forth on the soles of his feet.

“Well, we’ve delivered the package. We have to go now, see you guys next time” Komori wave your group goodbye as Reon and Semi said their thanks.

Sakusa gave Ushijima a nod before turning around. “See you at nationals Wakatoshi”

“Of course”

They both left, their tall figures disappearing into the crowd, as your group went back to your hotel. Upon arriving at your lodging, you stumbled along with Coach Saito and Washijou-sensei near the entrance, the two older men inquiring of your shopping spree. Everyone answered the question as honestly as they could, leaving out the details of yours and Goshiki’s little accident.

Satisfied, they both left while your group went back to your own room to enjoy the rest of your stay, and to avoid any more mishaps.

«──────────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────────»

[1] anyone here who also watches sekai-ichi hatsukoi?

a/n: the idea from the college convo between Mikana and reader was inspired from a conversation I had with a mutual hehehe, though not word per word but just the overall gist of it. Dear, if you’re reading this you know who you are. ;)

also, my team stories aren’t suppose to contain any romance, yet here I am lowkey shipping Goshiki and reader.