#also the fact they called it disgusting smuts implies that they had to have went to ao3 and read smut on there

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I certainly didn’t see this being on my 2023 bingo card.

Edit: Ya’ll this meme above isn’t accurate anymore since other messages from the group came out. I made this meme when the first initial message came out.

The meme down below is more correct as to what’s probably happening with Ao3. Also wanted to say that despite the name of group, the people behind it are probably Russians.

Edit: July 11th, So Ao3 is back! Though the donation link is being attacked now. There’s also a second account on Twitter trying to impersonate Ao3.

[titan-fodder]

Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

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

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

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

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

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

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volcanic depression with a diameter many times larger than its included volcanic vents; commonly formed when magma is withdrawn or erupted from a shallow, underground magma reservoir.*

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

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

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

*definitions taken from USGS website

4  Y E A R S  B E F O R E 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. The boy scout’s here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?” 

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

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

“And, in the others?” 

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

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

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

And then, it stops. 

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you. 

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

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

“Was that…” 

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

"Supereruption."

3  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

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

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

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

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

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

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

“Then why aren’t they here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not really. Survive, I guess." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2  Y E A R S  B E F O R E

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

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

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

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

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

Not dead; just waking up.

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

“Exhausted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t imagine anything does.

1  Y E A R  B E F O R E

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Embarrassing, is what it is." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop."

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

"You're thinking things, though."

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

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

"Hange!" 

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

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

Not the way you are here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So are you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6  M O N T H S  B E F O R E 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," Erwin answers first. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Levi..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We—”

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

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

Quite possibly. 

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

But, that is not the case. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

S I X  W E E K S  B E F O R E

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

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

And, the owners have definitely prepared. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tch." 

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

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

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

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

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

"How long did you work together?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you start.

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

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

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“What?”

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

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

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe so…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fu—”

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

“Mike—Mike—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

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

“Holy…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except maybe a supereruption, of course. 

E - D A Y 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1  M O N T H  A F T E R

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need something, baby?”

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

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

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

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

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

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

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

4  Y E A R S  A F T E R

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

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

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

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

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

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

[foodieforthoughts]

Sand and Stars - Chapter Nine

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, angst, foul language, mentions of war, military technicalities

A/N: I had been struggling to write this chapter for so long, being at a loss of words, even if I have the entire plot figured out. But a quick chat with @agniavateira​ finally gave me a boost. So thank you honey. And obviously a huge thank you to my favorite, my girl, @thelastsock​ for patiently beta-reading it. I am forever grateful to you, sweety.

Also, it is kind of like a filler chapter really, but everyone is at Camp Warhorse and the temperatures are soaring high!

<Chapter Eight

Title: Chapter Nine

Liv could feel her heart race and her pulse echo in her ears. Her hands were beginning to sweat inside the gloves, and she knew for a fact it wasn’t because of the summer heat that had descended upon the arid desert of Iraq. She glanced at Sloan who puffed her cheeks before taking quick steps backwards and running back to where she came from.

Taking a deep ragged breath, Liv slung her gun over her shoulder and removed her helmet, holding it in the crook of her arm as she walked towards the two men. Alex looked completely different than the last time she had spent time with him. He had his sunglasses on, camouflage cap perched on his head and his jaw covered with a clean cut beard. Even with the uncharacteristic facial hair Alex had going on, he walked with the arrogance of the decorated military officer that he was. Next to him, Sy looked rugged and even though he was in his military sanctioned t-shirt and camo pants, there was a distinguishing difference between the two Captains.

“Sergeant Ross.” Alex called out, taking off his sunglasses. He smiled at her staying put in his spot but scrutinized her with a glance from head to toe. Putting his hands behind his back, Alex stood straight, exuding the kind of dominance he always did in public. “Captain Syverson was telling me about how great a help your unit has been around here.”

Liv felt her mouth go dry as she looked at a grinning Sy with his hands placed low on his hips. He was looking at her proudly, puffing out his chest just a little bit. But Liv couldn’t bask in his admiration because the thought of the two men discussing about her made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Sy is too kind.”

She did not miss the surprise in Alex’s eyes when the words left her mouth. She felt the anxious sweat return, beads of sweat trickling down her back now. Awkwardly adjusting her gun strap over her shoulder, she waited until either of them spoke.

“Sy?” Alex asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance showed how he was not in approval of a junior rank calling a senior officer informally. Liv was beginning to remember why she felt smothered around Alex, it was his overly decorous and overbearing nature that had made her realize she could never be with a person like him.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them. Liv noted how her unit members working on carrying the ammunition from the Humvees were throwing glances their way. It was humiliating for her to be meeting both of her partners out in the open, in front of everyone where she couldn’t hide the uneasiness.

“They call me that.” Sy intervened and Liv couldn’t have been more thankful. His grin had disappeared though, replaced with a tight-lipped gritting of his teeth. She could see the muscle in his jaw clenching and his eyes boring into hers. Without glancing at the man standing next to him, Sy took a step forward. Liv’s heart thumped against her chest as she expected Sy to do something to assert his claim on her but let out a sigh of relief as he only reached inside his pocket and pulled out her chain.

She was immensely relieved when Sy only whispered, “You forgot this.” Before handing her the chain in her palm. She nodded at him while smiling weakly. He seemed to be observing her too, looking at her with slightly narrowed eyes. Clearing his throat, Alex pulled their attention towards him. Liv quickly pocketed the chain, careful to not let Alex see it and looked at the newly arrived captain.

“Can I speak to you in private, Sergeant?” He asked, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands inside his pockets. He waited until she replied, glancing at her and Sy before turning around and walking towards the housing building.

Liv almost did not want to follow him. She wanted to stay there with Sy, maybe take him to the roof and go back to the time when they sat there drinking chai. Balling her hands into fists at the unfavorable circumstances she had been thrown into, Liv only touched Sy on his arm before walking towards the man who was the worst mistake of her life.

Placing her gun on the floor to rest against the wall, Liv started to search for Alex when she felt her body being turned around and slammed against the wall. Air left her lungs at the force and her senses went on high alert, her hands ready to get a hold of the person’s neck when she noticed who it was. Alex had pressed his entire body against hers, every contour of her frame touching his.

“Alex,” his name barely left her lips before she was rendered speechless as his lips came down on hers. Grabbing at her hair and winding his arm around her waist, Alex deepened the kiss with his lips parting and his tongue darting inside her mouth. She was aware of the empty corridor with footsteps sounding only a few feet away, but the familiarity of his body against her, the taste of his lips and the tight grasp of his hand in her hair made her close her eyes. She relaxed in his arms, letting him ravage her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, her hand had slid into his hair but instead of the buzzcut she'd come to love, she felt soft length between her fingers.

Disgusted with herself and her wrongdoing, Liv turned her face to the side. Bringing her hands to his chest, she pushed Alex away, panting to catch her breath. Alex staggered backwards and hurt instantly flashed in his green orbs, making its way to her own heart. She couldn’t meet his eyes for the last time she had tried to break things off, her guilt had caught up to her and she couldn’t do it.

“Liv,” Alex whispered, beginning to take a step forward when two heavy footsteps came running their way. Looking towards the open doorway, Liv spotted two of her men running towards them.

“A team was attacked, they just arrived. Captain Syverson told me to get you both to his office.”

Quickly nodding at her men, Liv picked up her gun from the floor. She adjusted her fatigues, her cheeks heating under Alex’s gaze. She needed to address their situation, but it had to wait. She looked over her shoulder at him and felt remorse creeping its way into her gut again as he stared at her appalled.

***

Sy stood at the entrance of the building with the cup of coffee in his hand. He sipped the steaming liquid as he scanned the compound as several units prepared to leave for their patrols around the village. They had increased the security around the camp since last week’s attack on their men. Luckily, no one was severely injured, but it had been a huge blow for Liv’s confidence.

Sy had watched as she had entered his office fuming with anger. He had anticipated she would be upset since the person at the head of the attacking group of militants was the insider, she'd believed was on their side. He had tried to assure her no one held her accountable for the attack, but he knew her plenty by now. He knew she would berate herself about it and go back into her shell of self-loathing.

And she had done exactly that.

Sy licked his lips, gulping down the bitter shot of caffeine as he spotted Liv with her unit. She was helping her corporal load up the box of ammunition and instructing them. He admired her dedication to her work immensely, but on the other hand he also wanted her to just let herself go once in a while.

His eyes narrowed as he observed Alex making his way towards her. He had decided from the very moment he met the captain, that he did not like him. Sy had read about him; born and brought up in a family of army officers, gone to private school and having arrogant pricks as his relatives, Alex was the kind of army man Sy despised. He had noticed the way Alex tried to ascertain control over Liv or his subordinates, very subtly hinting at things that he wanted to happen his way.

But those weren’t the only things that he disliked about the new Captain. Sy hated the fact that while Liv was maintaining her distance from him, she was spending an awful lot of time with Alex.

It wasn’t happening in an obvious kind of way, but since Sy could hardly ever keep his eyes off of the woman he loved, he would spot the two of them together up and around the compound. When they spoke, he noted how Liv’s body was stiff, but she spoke effortlessly. He would feel the muscles in his arms twitch when Alex would place his hand on her arm, and she would lean into his touch. He had gathered from a few of Alex’s men that Liv and Alex had been friends for a really long time.

Sy felt the bubbling of an emotion, which had no other word than being called jealousy, as he watched the two interact. He gripped his cup tightly as he watched Alex place his hand over her shoulder, a minute too long for Sy’s liking. He detested how Liv did not shrug away from Alex’s touch and every time Sy spotted them together like that, all he wanted to do was throw his arm around Liv and blatantly claim in front of everyone that she was his.

He took in a deep breath when Alex started walking towards him. Widening his stance and crossing his arms over his chest, Sy stood with confidence as the other captain made his way to him. He saw Liv looking at them from her place near the Humvees. They had a long eye contact with straight faces until Liv turned around to get inside the vehicle.

“Good day there Sy?” Alex stood next to him with his hands inside his pockets. Sy regarded him with a half-hearted smile before his eyes fell to the silver chain tangled up with the man's dog tags.

“That chain?” Sy pointed at the glinting medal laying on Alex’s chest. “That’s-”

“Saint Christopher. A gift from my mother to keep me safe.” He answered, his voice gruff from the early morning.

Sy narrowed his eyes, trying to study the make of the medal without being too obvious. He felt a pit in his belly as a realization dawned on him. “Liv has one too.” He meant to say it to himself, but unknowingly murmured the words out loud.

Alex chuckled, swiping his hand through his neatly combed hair. Squaring his shoulders and turning slightly to face Sy, Alex spoke. “I gave it to her. Don’t want anything to be happening to her.”

Sy felt his mouth go dry. He smiled at Alex but his mind was racing with all this new information. He couldn’t understand why when he already knew they were friends, Sy felt himself becoming irate. He couldn’t differentiate if he was angry about them being close or the sinking gut feeling he had that something was going on behind his back.

Sy couldn’t shrug the feeling off. All he could do the whole day was look at his watch and wait for anyone to come announce at his door that Liv was back to the camp.He had to talk to Liv about it, he needed the peace of mind. His thoughts were swirling about Liv and Alex, bordering on overthinking about every little detail about her life she had told him. He couldn’t concentrate on his work and he had stared at the piece of paper in his hand for far too long. Irritated at himself, Sy threw his cap on the table and rubbed his hand over his face.

He looked up when he felt a presence at the door and as if he conjured her, delight filled his chest as spotted Liv. Sy didn't waste any time in covering the short distance between them, pulling at her arm and closing the door in one swift move. Sy held her neck, tilting her face to capture her lips with his. He felt her melt in his arms, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders while he nudged her lips open with the tip of his tongue. Their tongues danced, interrupted only as she moaned into the kiss, grasping at his t-shirt until the fabric was taut across his shoulders. Gasping for air, Sy parted from the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’ve missed you.” He shakily professed, pecking the tip of her nose.

“I’ve missed you too, Sy.” She breathed out, smiling at him and rubbing the nape of his neck. “Listen, can you come to the roof tonight? I really need to talk to you.”

Sy felt an unknown dread envelop him. He knew those words never meant anything good. He looked her in the eye, trying to understand what she meant, but seeing nothing but silent pleas. Taking her lips in his one more time and he savoured every moment, before he let go of her.

And then she was gone, leaving his office feeling weirdly empty.

***

Liv chewed on her bottom lip as she looked out towards the vast expanse of the desert. There was a lot more chatter in the compound with the new people arriving. She waited for the lights to turn out, for midnight to roll in and finally meet Sy in their safe haven.

She had taken a week to realize what she felt for the man. Scared to address it, maybe she would have taken even longer if it weren’t for Alex. For when he had kissed her that day, she had finally realised the difference in her feelings. But she had remained quiet, distanced herself a little from Sy, to understand what she really wanted.

Liv felt a pleasant warmth in her chest about how much she loved the stupid captain she had stumbled upon in the desert.

Lost in her thoughts, smiling to herself as she thought about Sy, Liv did not notice the person standing behind her. The warmth of their breath caressed her neck as they leaned in and wound their arms around her body. Letting out a sigh, Liv felt herself leaning against the hardness of his chest, wrapping her arms over his and closing her eyes.

“Sy,” She whispered expecting to be turned around but instead she felt him go stiff. Her eyes flew open as their arms dropped from her waist and she noticed the faint smell of the cologne that she recognized belonged to someone who wasn’t Sy.

Turning around swiftly, Liv felt the blood drain from her face when she came face to face with an astounded Alex. He stared at her with knitted eyebrows, his mouth slightly open and his figure looming over her. She took a step back from him, feeling her heart race and her cheeks heat under his accusing glare.

“Did you just call me, Sy?” He said through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck strained as he took a step forward. “What is going on between you and Syverson?”

“Alex, what are you doing here?” Liv asked meekly, feeling miniscule in front of him.

“Answer me.” He demanded, his eyes blazing even under the faint glow of the moonlight. “Are you fucking him? Is that what you’ve been doing here?”

Liv’s feet touched the low wall as Alex made her cower away from him. Coming to stand extremely close to her, Alex towered over his Sergeant. She could see how his eyes bore into hers, anger flaming in his orbs. She felt herself jump when he caught a hold of her arms, gripping them tightly.

“Alex,” she pleaded, feeling the spasming pain as his infuriated grasp increased in pressure.

“You said you loved me.”

Tears were beginning to brim in her eyes under the pain. She had seen Alex angry before, but this was different. It felt like he was overtaken by a mad man as he clenched her tightly.

“You’re hurting me, Alex.” She couldn’t help but let out a whimper, pursing her lips to stop from crying out.

“You said you loved me.” He repeated again with fervor.

“I never said I loved you.” She spat out, trying to free herself from him. “I never loved you, Alex. I am not fucking Sy, I love him.” She wrapped her arms around herself as Alex let go of her. She rubbed the sore spots on her arms as she tried to breathe through her pain. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she sat down on the ledge, looking at Alex who stood stunned.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She tried to apologize but Alex looked at her like they meant nothing but mere words.

Balling his hands into fists and gritting his teeth, Alex huffed angrily before turning on his heels and walking away. Liv grimaced when he pulled the worn-out door open, it rattled against the hinges and rebounded with a bang when he threw it open against the wall. This is what she had feared. Liv had not only intentionally hurt someone, but she had also lost a friend.

🌟 Series Masterlist 🌟

Chapter Ten>

[spencerscoven]

— idle hands

about ; Spencer looks back on to the months before at the events that pulled him under, all of them starting and ending with you.

gif by sarahmichellesgellar

WARNINGS: unedited— fem!reader unsub, unsub!spencer, handjobs, smut, mentions of drugs&addiction, mentions of depression, mentions of torture, mentions of death

“Is it really so hard to believe I wanted to do it?”

A small smile played on Spencer’s features, his eyes on Hotch’s, unmoving. His eyes were bright honey, within them holding something that had been foreign to him for much too long. Happiness. Euphoria.

He sat in the same seat as you once did, letting himself soak up the aura of the interrogation room. The metal jingle of his handcuffs paired with the rough floors that were once waxed allowed him to be brought back to half a year ago, to a Wednesday in September, where the sun rose south on the horizon in Quantico, where nothing would be the same again. 

Spencer’s brought back to the day he first met you, the memory so vivid he could stick his tongue out and imagine he tasted your perfume in the air. It only takes a little longer before he’s also taken back to the moments before, when he leaned against the hallway walls of the BAU with an unsettled stomach and weak knees.

“I just can’t.” Spencer had said. Begged, even.

“You can’t? Or you won’t?” Spencer knew it wasn’t a question, no matter how Hotch had phrased it. He shook his head obediently, heart heavy and guts threatening to spill onto the brown leather of his shoes. It was even worse with every step, his fingers feeble on the cool handle of the door. And he hated himself for knowing where he’d go after, the image of a small seringe behind his lids each time he blinked.

The temperature inside was only cooler, making the claminess of his hands more evident, his jaw clenched. He inspected over you for as long as he could before it turned into staring, observing just who you were in the flesh. The woman behind the profile.

Soft hair.

Established at work.

Calm.

Smart.

Perfectly hidden in everyone’s good graces, leaving you out of suspicion.

He examined you so long that he was able to see you do the same to him, gazing up and down, the corner of your lips turned up. Twenty four men within the last eight months— erratic at first, until the murders gained a special flair, your signature. The photos sat infront of you already, their tongues cut skillfully out of their mouths as you paid the snapshots no attention.

“This one,” You pointed to the photo to the farthest left, your nose scrunched up in slight disgust, “To me he looks very proud, doesn’t he? I’m sure somebody wanted to shut him up.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, watching the game you were getting at, moving your chess piece three spaces over and looking him in the eye, daring him to join.

“Is that what you wanted? To shut him up?”

“Couldn’t say. I only read about it in the papers,” You retracted his accusation as if you’d been looking forword to the chase, crossing your legs and watching as his eyes followed them. “I read that he was a man with wandering hands, and much too many secrets. Maybe he deserved it.”

He watched you lean forward, embracing the space of the table as you placed your elbows upon it, holding your chin in the palm of your hand. You were the exact opposite of what uncomfortable was. You were eager. Excited.

“Do you agree that he deserved it?”

“I couldn’t possibly agree with you.” Spencer appealed.

Your painted nails motioned him to come closer, his jaw going slack at what was a demand, not a request. His body acted first, the scent of you nearly lifting him off the floors as it hit him. It made him sick as if he was on a rocking boat— shipwrecked. And to feel something felt good.

“I mean, there’s really no proof of who the killer is anyway.” You sighed, collecting your things without much regard for the bloody mess of the images below you.

Spencer glanced at the two way glass to the left as if he could see the figures behind it watching him crumble, letting you go because you were right in all the ways that were wrong. He’d hear about another thing he had done wrong as soon as he exited the doors.

You dismantled the space between the two of you, stopping close to look into the bronze gold of his irises, holding his energy alongside yours. Spencer tried to justify the way he didn’t step back— the soft soul of your breath against his ear just barely.

“I just wanted to see you up close...” You lead off without finishing, implying you wanted his name.

“Doctor.” He tutted, his arms held defensively by his side as if it would get him out of this newly dug hole that already contained multiple sprouting seeds inside of it.

“Doctor, you seem unsettled...” You let out a little hum at the title, nodding as you swiped your hand on the shoulder of his jacket. It was your only excuse to touch him. “Some people do bad things for all the right reasons, and sometimes, they do far too well at it.”

You struggled at your last statement, as if you were passing it onto him to consider. He couldn’t help himself from looking over his shoulder, watching the sway of your hips fade into the distance, leaving the door open only to reveal the figure of the black haired man, as if he was ready to stop what everyone else could see happening.

Hotch watched from the open door as Spencer stepped closer to the table, eyes burning through the print that you once referenced to before he took it between his thumbs, tearing it apart.

In the beginning of October, he let himself come to true terms. Sure, his team acted like they cared. They never ratted him out in fear he would lose his job— in fact, they never even uttered the words of it out loud, instead preferring looks of empathy. And as time went on, their empathy switched to looks of pity that soon became dehumanizing as they pressed and prodded at him like a cell below a microscope.

So he told them what they had already known when he was finally able to come to terms with it himself, droplets falling to the floor from his eyes as he quietly announced “I’m an addict”. And he listened as they said completely nothing, looking up to only see them watch anything in the room but him, averting their eyes to something that was somehow more important than what he had to confess.

And it dawned on him that very moment that they didn’t care when they only spoke to accept his apology for the sudden slip of the tongue. To them, he ceased to exist beyond the ways his brain benefited them.

Spencer realized they didn’t care to talk about the trackmarks that riddled his arm, or the noise of the glass vials that they heard from his pockets. He was becoming increasingly uncaring and disorganized, becoming less and less sterile each time he pumped his viens and chased his impending doom in the form of a sweet high. They just wanted to go to sleep at night without guilt sitting on their chests.

They wanted him to suffer in the shadows, swaying against the side of the bathroom stall as he rolled up his sleeves. They wanted to get off scot free and go on with their lives if they were to ever find him slumped against the cold floors, barely conscious.

It made Spencer’s skin crawl.

During an evening in mid October his fingers shook on the bottom half of his old cellphone, eagerly inching towards the final number— the one that had been burned into the front of his head right from the manila folder.

187...The one he promised he wouldn’t call.

187-654...The one that smelt like vanilla graced with casablanca lillies, and something else he just could not sniff out.

187-654-337... Was it so bad that he thought of you in a way he wasn’t supposed to?

“Hello?”

Spencer’s breath hitched against the receiver, keeping his voice in his chest while he nuzzled against his phone, taking you in as if you were right beside him.

“It’s you, isn’t it, Spencer?”

He worried his lips at your tone, patience and humility just waiting for him to speak up. Spencer counted the seconds over as several minutes passed, your tolerance never wearing down.

“Why do you know that?” Spencer asked, running his slim fingers through his head of hair at the sound of his first name, one he had never given you. Was he that fucking obvious to you?

“You were easy to find, I googled you. You’re quite remarkable, aren’t you? Besides, I’ve been expecting this call,” You admitted.

He could hear you shuffling around the room, discarding something metal and turning on the pipe, washing your hands clean. He could see your image now, phone held between your cheek and shoulder, hair falling infront of your eyes as you rinsed. He wondered what you were ridding your hands of, or if it even mattered now that he had crossed this line.

“You’ve been expecting me?”

“It’s a pity you didn’t call sooner, Spencer... I’ve been thinking about the things we could discuss. Is that what you want? To talk?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat to stop himself from reciting his uttermost single thought: You’re no good for me.

“Yeah, I’d like to talk.”

He’d forgotten what it felt like when someone listened.

On the ripe night of December 31, he sat upon your couch, his elbows on his knees as he covered his face in shame. Hours before he stumbled onto your porch, rambling about you and him, him and you. You’d only chuckled at it, calling him admirable and sickingly sweet. His pulse began to beat harder as you told him that he reminded you of your mother, a woman who stood pure and good. He didn’t have the heart to just let you blindly say so, spoiling the image of her. Not when he wouldn’t do that to his own mother, either.

After the new person he’d become the past year, he wasn’t so sure he was deserving of such a thing. He played with the band of his watch, nothing that in just two more hours it’d be the new year. He couldn’t stop himself from spilling his truth, the one he had implied to you for months.

“What did you used to take?”

“Dilaudad, when it was available. But Morphine mostly,” Spencer’s voice was no louder than a whisper, “It was easier to get.”

He sat without saying much else, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, expecting you to dismiss him like so many others had before.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months.” Spencer pierced his lips, ignoring the look you gave him that implied you knew, like he did, that he wasn’t ready to admit exactly just how long he had been at it.

“Did they care?” You asked, your body leaning closer into him, waiting for a reply that never came from his mouth. You paid attention to the slight tremble of his body and the glossiness of his eyes.

He never told you the specifics about himself, and you wondered if it was because he kept you at arm’s length or because he truly thought there wasn’t anything to tell. But sometimes he’d talk about them; a woman called Emily, and one by the name of Garcia. You already knew who Hotch was from the moments he tried to shake a confession out of you before. You had assumed they were the only ones he had because he never said much else. His silence only pinged as an answer.

“Spencer, you deserve better, you do.” Your hands glided along his jaw, tilting his head to look at you. With the pads of your thumb you wiped the few tears that cascaded down his cheeks, his eyes shut tight in protest. “I care. Did you ever know that?”

Spencer stood with limp arms, his head nodding as he brought his cheek closer to your hand and laid a gentle kiss on your finger, dropping his whole world into yours.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why would you need to apologize, Spencer?”

You didn’t look at him through a lense that demonized him, reducing him to just another case who had let his addiction eat his life up from the inside out. He knew that to you he was someone like he had never been before. He was just himself, not an obstacle. And you were unreal, ready and willing to protect him.

“Can I touch you?” Spencer croaked, looking down at you with wide eyes. You didn’t answer verbally, instead opting to bring his face closer to yours, steering his lips into a kiss. It became clear as to who was in control as he submitted, hands delicately wavering above your hips without the permission to do much else.

You threw your thighs over his, straddling his hips and beginning to grind slowly, only to see that he was already showcasing a hard bludge in his pinstripe trousers. At the speed of it you pondered on the thought that he hadn’t been touched in a long time— or ever.

“Yes, you can touch me.” You assured him, a ginger grin appearing in response to his nervous eyes and hands that grasped your tits above your shirt, so eager to touch. “I meant what I said. If they can’t help give you what you need, what can they do for you?”

You palmed Spencer through his pants, admiring the little sounds that poured out of his mouth, each a bit louder than the one before. The button of his pants came off easy enough, allowing his cock to spring out, the rosy tip already leaking and sensitive. His hips jerked up to your touch, breath caught up against your neck. Your hand worked between the two of you, traveling up and down his dick repeatedly. At the perfect pace, your thumb ran across the tip, coaxing swears from his mouth as you brought your lips back to his.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Spencer. You don’t always have to stand so strong...”

Spencer’s hips moved underneath you to meet your hands, his orgasm coating your hands as he continued to whine well after he had cum, a sound that ensured the happy death of you. Through hooded eyes, he taped you licking his finishes off the back of your hand and your fingers, a keen look of contentment placed upon your face.

“You’re not alone anymore, are you?”

Spencer nodded ‘no’, embarking on how you resembled Eris, spirit dripping of discord and nasty twists, yet headstrong enough to hold the both of you up. It was an infatuation; a dangerous one.

He rubbed circles into your thigh, the after effects of his orgasm making his head hazy, head stuck in the clouds. His long fingers inched closer to the waistband of your jeans, face confused when you gently directed them away.

“I just want to please you,” he mewled, pout evident.

“You already have.”

Spencer nodded, following your lead to drop it, a long sigh drawn out his peachy lips. His head tilted, almost as a puppy’s would, an epiphany settling in. His eyes became earnest, unable to tiptoe around the dark reality surrounding the two of you. To him it didn’t matter anyway, not anymore.

“You killed those men, didn’t you?”

“Who’s to say?” You raised your eyebrows, feigning innocence like a code, meant for Spencer to see right through.

“Right,” His shoulders dropped, body no longer tense. “My team... they’re wondering if you’re worth all the trouble.”

“Am I?”

Spencer’s lips rose north, resembling something that he hadn’t done for months. You watched, a bit hypnotized, lips swollen and skin sensitive to the touch.

“You are.”

When it became March, it was too late.

“The victim is male, mid 50s, his identity yet to be verified,”

Hotch watched the scene infront of him eerily silent.

“Body has several struggle adhesions, the tongue was severed from the mouth, as well as both hands. They’ve yet to be found— I’d say the body is about five days old.”

He’d last seen Spencer six days ago after he entered the passenger side of the familiar black car, windows just a bit tinted as he saw his torso reach across the center console, kissing who had been in the driver’s seat. He hadn’t asked where he planned to go.

Idle hands ; the devil’s workshop. Nothing good came from hurt.

masterlist

[animedaddymilkers]

Kinkmas 2020: Day 21

Prompt: Yandere/Spanking w/ Inoichi

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Yandere, Mutual Pining, Implied Stalking, Mild Dubcon, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Aftercare || Characters: Inoichi Yamanka, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

this fic contains yandere and mild dubcon themes, if that makes you uncomfortable please do not read!

With a content sigh, you unlocked the front door to your apartment, a slight fuzziness blurring your vision and limbs thanks to the alcohol coursing through your veins. Your keys were discarded into the cutesy trinket tray, your shoes kicked off into the ever-growing pile nearby. The date was an okay one, nothing extremely exciting but, hey, he was cute and it was a fun time. It may have sounded obnoxious when said out loud, but no men your age interested you. Not like you didn't give a plethora of them chances, and you still made friends with most of them. You just never seemed to form that romantic attachment you craved so desperately. What that said about your mental health wasn't totally lost on you, but not like you could (or wanted) to do a whole lot about it.

The sweater covering your shoulders was thrown onto a chair, your constricting belt quickly following as you made your way to your bedroom. At first, you didn't notice it, didn't notice anything at all. You simply continued walking on past the kitchen and living room, into your bedroom where you stripped your shirt and pants off. Trudging back out to the bathroom in your underwear and bra, your brows furrowed. You didn't remember turning one of the lights on… Chalking it up to the kitchen stove light you always left on, you continued your mission of brushing your teeth and face. When you came back out of the bathroom, you headed to the kitchen for a glass of water, freezing when you saw a figure sitting in one of your chairs, contently reading a book.

"S-Sir?!" the big kitchen light was on, illuminating the stoic face of one of Konoha's strongest shinobi.

The older blond man placed his book down, seeming annoyed it took you this long to notice him before he started with a huff, "I pay all my employees well, even ones as low down on the ladder as you. One would think that allows for better locks. And it's about time you arrived home, considering you have work tomorrow, no?"

Confusion was about the only emotion you could feel as your boss all but scolded you, besides the dull horny you always felt when it came to the man in front of you, though you suppressed that part for now, "Better wha- What the hell are you doing in my house?!"

Inoichi stood slowly, towering over you and making you regret the harsh tone you used, "Because it seems you forgot whom you belong to, dearest rosebud."

Besides the fact that his reply gave you more questions than answers, you silently gasped at the pet name he used. It was the same pet name your secret admirer had been using for you. You never saw the constant flower bouquets, food deliveries, or expensive gifts as harmful. They were, if anything, an ego boost to you thus far. All delivered to you with the sweetest notes, describing how ethereal you were, and always addressing you as rosebud, albeit also sounding a bit possessive. Additionally, in the six months, you had been receiving gifts, you hadn't been on any dates, instead choosing to focus on your new career supporting the Torture and Interrogation Department. A career that found you moving up the ladder fast, though you were still just doing menial tasks. Briefly, you wondered how much Inoichi had to do with those promotions, but he took a step towards you, cupping your face in his hand, and tore you from your thoughts.

"I think it's about time you come home. To your true home, don't you?"

Your heart thumped loudly in your throat and you nodded against your better judgment, "I do."

The smile you were met with sent a warm tingle through your body, and you returned a smile of your own. Inoichi nodded and picked his book up from the table, his other hand patting the top of your head. The silent praise had your chest swelling with pride for some reason unknown to you. It should have alarmed you how easily you accepted his offer, though you rationalized that you didn't have much choice, fearing that if you rejected him the trained ninja would take you anyways. Better to go willingly than be taken by force, right? Well, that and you were still a bit tipsy.

Before long, you were tucked snugly into the side of the blond man, his arm wrapped protectively around you. The route to his home was longer than it should have been, you suspected he was purposely avoiding the main streets. Being a high ranking shinobi taking a girl home during the early hours of the morning would raise questions. Especially a girl that worked under him. His warm touch was protecting you from the cold and the smell of his expensive cologne was intoxicating. It had you snuggling into his side more, an act which made him smile, he knew his rosebud wouldn't deny him. This definitely proved you deserved a present larger than anything he gifted you previously.

The Yamanaka clan complex was expansive and the main house was nothing to sneeze at either, easily dwarfing your apartment several times over. He led you inside, showing you around and you took notice of how similar his place was to yours. Not in the layout or big furniture pieces, but he had the same type of napkins, your favorite drinks, even your shampoo in his bathroom which you assumed was his daughter's. It didn't dawn on you until he took you on a tour of his room just how deep you were in. In his room, you found clothing that was unmistakably yours, items that had gone missing months ago and some just last week. They ranged from shirts and leggings to underwear and even a pillowcase. You tried not to take note of how some pieces were stained with white spots. Uneasiness began to grow in your gut as you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into when your phone buzzed with a notification. You pulled it out, only to have Inoichi take it from you and punch in your passcode.

His face soured, "You really think that lowlife deserves a second date? Before you give me even <em>one</em>? Disgusting."

Your date from earlier must have texted back after you replied you wanted to see him again. He was about to slide your phone onto the dresser when it began to ring. If the scowl on his face told you anything, it was, unfortunately, your date calling. The guy did say he preferred talking over text and at the time, you didn't mind, but now, it was really rather annoying.

"Answer it. Reject him. Reject him like you know you want to," the direction was clear and stern, leaving no room for discussion as he thrust the phone in your direction.

Nervously, you took the device from him and answered the call. Rejecting someone, in general, was an anxiety-inducing task, but to have an overbearing admirer glare you down while doing so was all the more nerve-wracking. Your voice wavered slightly as you talked and although Inoichi still frowned, his hands played through your hair, skimming the ends of your locks. The guy on the other end was rightfully confused while you explained you never wanted to see him again because just an hour ago you texted you were looking forward to it. Part of you hoped he would pick up on the odd behavior and come after you, but the realistic part of your brain told you the boy was too daft and a measly coward. The opposite of the man in front of you.

Once the call was complete the smile returned to the blonde's face, "Good flower! I knew you wanted to be with me. But-," his face fell again, a look of complete seriousness that made you swallow hard, "I can't forgive your little indiscretion. Not yet. It seems you need a punishment to truly remind you of whom you belong to, rosebud."

Your face grew cold at the implications, yet still, you allowed Inoichi to lead you towards the bed. He sat on the edge and patted his expansive thighs, hardened with all the training he did. You should be refusing, should be running far, far away from this situation. But, it was too tempting. How many times does the man you fantasize about return your affections so vigorously? Additionally, a spanking from him sounded like time well spent and you did deserve it for trying to date someone else when you were meant for him. You laid yourself across his legs, the pants you haphazardly put on before leaving being tugged down to your knees. His hands caressed your backside, massaging your ass cheeks before giving a playful swat to them.

"Count them. If you lose count we start over. We'll stop when I think you've learned your lesson. Got it?"

You nodded before squeaking out a, "Yes, daddy."

The name seemed to both please and shock the man, as his hand stalled in mid-air before he grinned. Then, he brought his hand down to your cheek, prompting you to call out the number. A second smack was quick to follow onto the other cheek along with a third, his hands only stalling to hear you mutter out the number. Thankfully, he was merciful in his technique, alternating cheeks and making sure to smack the untouched parts of your backside. A couple even landed harshly on your folds, the wetness gathering there only intensifying the pleasure-pain you felt. After spank thirty, it was hard to find an area that wasn't welting up, and so he went over the areas he already smacked. It made it all the more sensitive as your legs jerked slightly and hands clutched at the comforter beneath you. Your ass was raw and bleeding slightly in a few places, yet still, his hands struck you, enjoying each conflicted whine that left your mouth.

At fifty, you prayed he would be finished, but he kept on spanking, making sure to land more smacks over your pussy. He'd make comments that were a mix of degrading praise about how wet you were for him and how well he was going to fuck you. The promise of being railed by the ever-growing hard-on beneath you was the only thing keeping you from begging him to stop. You were determined to be a good girl for your daddy, despite the burning pain you felt on your rear. Somewhere in the midst of the sixties, you actually came on his hand after he smacked your pussy again, earning rumbling praise from the man above you. Finally, at seventy-five, he stopped, most likely because his hands were sore at this point too. Your reprieve was capitalized by him affectionately rubbing and massaging your abused cheeks as if it pained him to hurt you. Without restraint, you whined into his chest as he held you, hips grinding down against his.

He laughed softly and kissed along your jaw, "Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to accept me as your one and only?"

"Yes, I've learned my lesson, daddy. You're the only one I want in my life. Now and always, please never leave me," you held onto his shirt as you locked gazes with him, your best puppy dog eyes on display.

They worked their intended magic, as you could see his expression soften almost immediately, "Good little blossom. I'll never leave your side and you'll never leave mine. Especially not after we become one, petal."

The notion was intoxicating, being loved by someone so much they'd do anything for you. But right now, the love you needed was physical and with the goal dangling right above your head, you were desperate to reach it. Your hands slid under his shirt and peeled it off, your own being removed soon after. Within a flash, you both were naked and kissing each other feverishly. Inoichi laid back on the bed's pillows, admiring the sight of you perched atop him. You didn't mind being on top, taking the advantage to push his cock into you quickly. As you sank down on him, his hands stroked up and down your thighs, giving a testing thrust up into you. You sat on his cock as much as your body would allow and without hesitation, began to bounce yourself on him. He sighed in pleasure as you wrapped around him so perfectly, telling you he expected nothing less from his perfect rosebud. The praise drove you wild, finally getting the recognition you deserved, albeit in the form of compliments on your sex technique.

When your thigh muscles began to clam up from overuse he laid your body down on top of him. His thick arms wrapped around your torso and he wasted little time in thrusting up into you. Hands caressed your shoulders and he locked gazes with you, unable to tear his eyes away from your face. In the midst of your passionate throes, Inoichi couldn't help but get lost in your otherworldly beauty, only the noises you made and the movement of his hips kept him grounded. It felt like your pussy was made for him, wrapping around him so perfect and driving him insane, he had trouble restraining himself from fucking into you harder. His lips met yours fiercely, kissing and holding onto you like you might disappear at any time. You put a hand on his cheek as you kissed him back and snaked a hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit. Though, your hand was soon removed, being replaced by one of Inoichi's, who explained he was determined to be the one who pleased you. As if you'd have any qualms about that.

His surprisingly smooth fingertips rubbed at your clit and with the constant feeling of his cock pounding against your cervix, you quickly came a second time. Yet still, his fingers kept moving, only stopping for a brief moment to let you ride out your high. The look on his face let you know he was close to orgasm himself, the blush covering his cheeks made your own heat up. Seeing the older blond man so lost in ecstasy, lost in your body, was absolutely pussy clenching. He groaned and held onto you tighter, his face burying into your neck as he moaned your name. The number of times you imagined him calling out your name in pleasure had absolutely nothing on the real thing. You whined into his chest and dug your nails into his shoulder, relishing in the way his cock pounded into your hole, hitting the same spot over and over. Every little thing was mind-blowing when added together and when you heard Inoichi announce he was cumming inside of you, you easily spiraled into another orgasm of your own. You clenched around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was giving you.

After you coaxed a second orgasm from Inoichi you let him pull out, both panting hard and nearly passed out. Yet somehow, he managed to get you into the bathtub and cleaned you up, personally washing you as he whispered constant praises in your ear. You nearly fell asleep like that, if it wouldn't have been for the cold surrounding you once the water was drained. Inoichi sat you down in front of the vanity after he dried your body and affectionately brushed your hair while blow-drying it. Again, the attention and repetitive actions almost put you to sleep, your daddy coaxing you awake with kisses to your jaw. He instructed you to pick out something to wear in the closet while he waited for you in the bed. You assumed he meant to pick something of his to wear for the night, but once you entered the expansive walk-in closet, it all became a bit too clear. The wall opposite of what you assumed was Inoichi's was filled with clothes that fit your exact aesthetic. A few flips through and it confirmed, they were all in your size, some items were exact copies of things you had in your closet, others literal things that you had gone missing. The sight should have disgusted you, creeped you out, something. But looking at the wall of clothes and shoes all you could think of was how thoughtful it was of him to so thoroughly prepare for you moving in.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

[floralseokjin]

;good2me (m)

Hoseok has been your friend and one of your roommates for over a year. That’s fine by you. In fact, most of the time he’s getting on your last nerve, even though you love him half to death. He’d agree. But soon you both find out there’s a very thin line between friendship and potential lovers... Are you prepared to cross it? 

pairing; jung hoseok x reader (slight kim seokjin x reader)  genre/warnings; friends to lovers (idiots to lovers), roommate au, bartender! hoseok, romance, bearable angst, a small infidelity, some mature content, implied smut  words; 15,351

author’s note; i started watching new girl again and got inspired by jess and nick’s relationship! Late, but for hoseok’s birthday 🥺💖

“Ohhh!” Hoseok hollered as you walked into the living area, looking up from where he was sat on the couch, flicking through the television. “Mama’s looking sexy!”

“Thank you. She is,” you said, trying to put on your best sexy voice. You did a little spin, before squeezing your cleavage up. “Got a little breast on show. A little booty if I bend over at a ninety degree angle.” You didn’t bend over the whole way, but he got the picture. 

He laughed, genuinely amused. “What is the occasion?” 

Trying to keep your bashful smile away, you failed. Big style. “Seokjin’s taking me out on our very first official date.” 

“Where to? Somewhere fancy no doubt.” 

“It’s a surpriseee.” 

You were giddy. Had been all day. You and Seokjin were finally happening, after all this time. Three months ago it seemed impossible. You had met in a quite unsavoury way, as in, you’d been determined to go out that night and have a one night stand. The one night stand had sure happened, but make that a multiple night stand. 

It was just casual sex for a few weeks. You didn’t know much about one another—more detail would mean this thing would just get deeper, and it was supposed to be the most casual of casual. You had come out of a longterm relationship at the start of the year, nearly 30 and very unsure what to do now when it came to dating. You’d met a couple of guys along the way, but you kept making the same mistake. You kept getting into relationships with them. You were sick of being Serious Sue, you wanted to be Fun Fanny. The nickname wasn’t the most desirable and you quickly stopped announcing that to potential hook ups you found at the bar. (Hoseok said you were giving off vibes you really didn’t want to be giving off.) 

Seokjin was a bit of a closed book back then, you didn’t know his story, why he wanted to keep things so casual. The guy was super sweet, really attentive and amazing in bed, but you didn’t pry. He hadn’t asked for your history, so you didn’t ask for his. Until you found out he was a doctor. A kid’s doctor. Or if you wanted to be official, a paediatrician. The dude was actually perfect, and that’s how you started to fall. 

It didn’t end well. When you confessed your feelings and implied you wanted more, he took off. He was sorry about it, apologised profusely, but he still left. You were heartbroken. But not just because of the rejection. It was because you’d fucked up again, wanted something serious, even though you’d sworn this thing with Seokjin was just a hook up. 

You managed to shake your dark mood, but you couldn’t shake the fact it felt like Seokjin was the one that got away. The one who was husband material if the situation had been different. It still felt like that nearly two months later when you ran into him at a Christmas party. However, to your surprise, he came at you with a thousand apologies. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d let go. He couldn’t concentrate the regret was so deep. He’d just come out of a shitty relationship when he’d met you, he’d gotten hurt and the idea of getting into a fresh relationship so soon had half frightened him to death. But the truth was he really liked you and wanted to be with you. He wanted something serious now, but he totally understood if you told him where to go. 

You very nearly did. You’d put your heart on the line once and he’d stomped all over it. Maybe it was just the stubbornness in you, seeing as you’d secretly held out for this. You’d needed time to think and Seokjin understood. It was actually Hoseok in the end who’d encouraged you to give it a shot. He knew you were frightened of getting hurt, but you deserved happiness and Seokjin could give that to you. (The dude’s perfect, were his exact words. And rich. Bag him now, before I do.) 

“Well, have a great time,” Hoseok grinned, taking a moment to get another look at you. “You look stunning. He’s gonna be blown away.” 

Your phone dinged in your hand. It was Seokjin, he’d just pulled up. “That’s him now.” Your voice was an unusual pitch. All high and excited. You were nearly at the door when you stopped, remembering what you wanted to tell Hoseok before you’d gotten distracted. You turned back. “Thank you again, Hobi.” 

He groaned. “Quit thanking me. I just gave you my opinion. You’re the one who made the decision.” 

You nodded, smiling softly. You were a broken record by now. “I don’t think I’ll be coming home tonight so don’t wait up.” 

“Ew.” He wrinkled his nose, feigning disgust. “Get out of here!” 

You laughed and opened the door to leave. Yeah, you were big style getting laid tonight. “Have fun with the guys!” You called, managing to get a grunt in reply. 

Living with three males was interesting, to say the least. Definitely not how you imagined seeing in your thirties. But when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. Life had dealt you a lot of lemons (Read: blows. Lemons = blows) these past twelve months. The breakdown of your eight year relationship had resulted in you moving out of the home you shared. Living with your best friend Joy had been fine at first, but it was always a temporary thing in your mind. That’s how you found yourself here, in loft 4a, living with three guys. Your mother had always told you not to trust an ad on Craigslist, but she lived 100 miles away. What she didn’t know wouldn’t harm her. 

There was Hoseok, of course, who you were closest with. It didn’t make any sense, most of the time you were like chalk and cheese. He was hard to read, kind of judge-y on a bad day, but somehow he got you the most. Maybe it was because just before you’d moved in he’d gone through his own similar breakup. Another long term relationship with a woman you’d meant once when she was picking up some of the things she’d left at the loft. You hadn’t known him well back then, but now you did, and you’d seen first-hand what the separation had done to him. It made him insecure. In himself, in his capabilities and in his job. He worked in a bar down the road, had for a few years after he dropped out of law school, and even though he’d never said it outright, you think that was the parting dig Minah, the ex, had left him with when she’d walked out. But despite that, Hoseok could be fun and easy to be around. That’s why you liked him the most. Because he’d always made you feel comfortable. Right from the beginning. 

Next, there was Yoongi. A radio host for the local station in your area. You might think he was aloof if you didn’t know him any better, but the guy was very much similar to a cat. Slight in his affection but that just made it all the more sincere. You’d never forget the time he’d kicked out this lame-o you’d thought you were exclusively dating, when in fact it turned out he was seeing three other girls too. Yoongi found you in tears in the living room, jerkface trying to apologise for the misunderstanding. He was out on his ass in under five seconds. From that night on you knew to call him a friend, much to his chagrin. He was a big softy really, and very loyal. That’s why Joy had fallen for him pretty early on. One introduction, a few weeks later and Bam! They were an item. There went her vow to never date a guy shorter than her. Plus, Yoongi was very smug about dating a model. Thought all his Christmas’ had come at once. But yeah, they were very much in love now. Pretty sickening really…

And last but not least, there was Namjoon. He was the brains of the group. The only one with a master’s degree, and the only one with a “proper” job. A high school science teacher. Well, technically you were a teacher too, but it wasn’t particularly the same when you taught a bunch of adults creative writing. Namjoon was the sensible one. The one who kept the lid on everyone’s antics when they were in fear of getting out of control. Although boy could be erratic when he wanted to be. More often now that the woman he’d been dating on and off for six months had finally ended things. Heartbroken Namjoon was not fun. Nor was the depressing music he played at 2am in the morning. But you were there for him because you loved him. You, Hoseok and Yoongi. 

3 guys, one girl. Best friends until the end, living in loft 4a. 

Ew. It could be a sitcom. 

“I don’t understand why you had to meet me outside,” Hoseok said to you. “I work here, it’s not like this place is new to me.” 

You hummed, not really wanting to answer him, but also severely distracted. It was a good few weeks later now, winter was pretty much over, life had long and resumed after  Christmas. In fact, it was the middle of February and today was Hoseok’s birthday. The last but one of you to turn the dreaded three-oh. You were pretty nervous right now, inside the bar a whole bunch of people ready to celebrate. Hoseok thought it was just you, the guys and Joy joining him for a few drinks… There was minor detail you’d left out and ignored: Hoseok hated surprises.  

Walking through the bar entrance first, leading the way for obvious reasons, you were met with darkness. Hoseok stopped dead behind you, and you heard him mutter oh, god, aghast. Your stomach dropped out of your ass but you flicked on the lights, yelling SURPRISE! with the rest of the partygoers filling the dingy room. 

“Happy 30th birthday, Hobi!” You exclaimed, hugging into him slightly. You pulled back, a grin on your face, eyes wide as you tried to gauge his reaction. He wouldn’t make a scene, surely? You watched with slight dread as he tried to stretch one across his face too. His eyes were piercing though. Piercing into you with complete and utter disbelief. You then watched as he turned his head and addressed his guests. “Thanks, guys. What a lovely surprise…”

Frick. He was definitely using his fake voice. 

.

.

“What is this?” Hoseok hissed at you. He’d finally been able to corner you an hour in, and you stood huddled together by the restrooms. “I told you I didn’t want a big deal. You said it was just going to be a few lowkey drinks at the bar!” 

“It is,” you insisted, before muttering that next part. “Just with an added 20 more people…” 

“I don’t even know half of them!” He looked around the room, and you joined him. 

Okay, you had to admit, after the first five people you’d added to the list it was pretty hard to think of more. In the end you’d had to improvise. Invite acquaintances or just even friends of a friend… You wouldn’t admit that though. “Sure you do,” you shrugged. “There’s Yoongi and Joy.” 

“She’s your best friend.” 

“There’s Namjoon.” 

“They don’t count.” He frustrated. “They were supposed to be here! It was just supposed to be them!” 

“There’s Mrs. Choi from our building–”

“You invited a 60 year old lady to my birthday?” 

She had a soft spot for him. Of course she should be here. “There’s Brian, your-your boss…” You admit by now you were struggling. 

“He’s just here because he works every night.” 

“There’s…” You glanced around again, desperate to see a familiar face of Hoseok’s. Finally, you found someone. “THERE’S NARA!” You shouted pretty loudly, excitement taking over. She drunk at the bar a few nights a week. Hoseok had become a little enamoured. 

He jerked his head in her direction. She was sat in a booth with Yoongi, Joy and Namjoon. The latter chatting away with her. “Oh, my god. You invited Nara?!” 

“Of course I did. You like her.” 

“No, I don’t.” He was quick to refute. “I don’t like her. How do you know I like her?” He was also quick to give in. 

“You find a way to bring her into conversation every single time. Ask Yoongi.” 

He sighed dramatically, rubbing his his temples. “Well, that’s just great. Now she knows I’m 30. She knows I’m old!” 

“Shut up,” you scoffed. “She’s close to 30 too.” 

His head shot up. “You know her age?” 

“Yes. I know a lot about her.” You smirked, feeling powerful. “In the five minute conversation we had while I was inviting her, I found out way more than you have in the past three weeks you’ve been into her.” 

“I like to take my time.” He fumed. You were close to bickering, you could feel it. Hoseok said you were a butt-er in-er. You took control of things that weren’t your job. This was probably a classic example. However, this time around he relented. He wanted in on this info. He lowered his voice, leaning in. “What did you find out?” 

You shrugged, pretty nonchalant. If it wasn’t his birthday you’d make him pay you ten bucks for the facts. “Her surname. Her age. Where she was born. She prefers cats over dogs. LOVE that,” you exclaimed. Hoseok rolled his eyes, speeding you up with hand motions. “She’s only had one serious relationship in her life. Kinda like me. Although, who knows now that me and Seokjin are an item.” 

You found yourself easily on a tangent. Your relationship with Seokjin the biggest distraction in your life right now. Things were going amazing. Just over six weeks in and you were finding that domestic bliss you and your ex never had. 

“I don’t care about your life. I care about mine.” Hoseok rudely interrupted. “What else did you find out?” 

You glared at him but replied. “Not a lot after that. Bottom line is I love her. We’re a lot alike actually.” 

“No, you are not,” he insisted, a little bit of nausea in his face. You knew better than to get offended. “Hey, how did you find this all out in five minutes?” 

You tipped your shoulders. “People feel comfortable around me. They can open up, y’know?” 

He grunted in response, before his eyes widened in horror, thinking of something. “You didn’t tell her I like her, did you?”

“No,” you scoffed. “What do you take me for? An idiot?” The look he gave you was a yes. You rolled your eyes and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re going to tell her. Tonight. That’s why I invited her.” 

He swallowed, now looking scared. Talking to girls was never his forte. The last “relationship” he’d had since the big breakup had lasted four weeks. He had a lot to learn. You tapped his back encouragingly and he gave you a tight nod. Damn, maybe he really was about to get his flirty flirt on with this woman. You smiled at him and he looked around the bar one last time, shaking his head with a chuckle as he realised something. “God. You threw me a party at the bar I work at.” 

When would you ever win?! 

.

.

An hour later you were making your way back to the apartment. Hoseok in tow. You wanted to convince yourself it was because you could see the party wasn’t his style at all. You mean, you could see that, but the real reason you were in the elevator right now was because you’d been hit with another, even better idea. In fact, you wished you’d just thought of this first. 

“They’ll be fine back there. They won’t miss you,” you tried to reassure Hoseok, stepping out into the hallway. 

“Gee. That makes me feel so amazing on my birthday. Thank you.” Sarcasm all day, everyday. You didn’t deserve it. “Thank you for gathering a bunch of strangers to celebrate that I am one step closer to death.” 

See? It hadn’t been that hard to get him outside and convince him to walk you home because you were feeling a little lightheaded. It was like taking candy from he baby. Hoseok was dumb. 

“What happened to you?” You glared his way. “The guys always tell me you were so full of life before I moved in.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I think you’ve answered the question yourself there.” 

You tutted, letting it go over his head. “Thirty is not bad, at all. I turned it a few months ago and I’ve just felt amazing ever since.” 

“You cried all day.” 

Goddamnit. “They were happy tears. Now,” you changed the subject, because yes, he was calling you out, but also he was pulling out his key, about to let himself in. You pushed him to the side, grabbing yours from your purse. “Just let me go do it,” you announced loudly. Almost like you wanted someone to hear you. “Just getting my key. Pushing it in the lock.” You continued the description. “Arriving home!” 

“What are you doing? What’s going on?” He was bound to be suspicious. You weren’t exactly being discreet. 

“Nothing.” You shook your head, now pushing the door open. 

“Nothing? I—

“SURPRISE!” 

Hoseok didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, door swinging open to reveal the guys. Namjoon pushed forward to slip a ’30 Years Old’ banner over his head, and he had the audacity to glare at you. 

“I specifically said don’t make this birthday a big deal and instead you throw me TWO surprise parties in the span of a couple hours.” He was in disbelief. “Don’t you listen to a word I say?!” 

“This is a better one though.” You whined. “The one I originally should’ve planned. It’s just friends.” 

“Hi again,” a little voice sounded from behind Namjoon. 

“And Nara.” You grinned, watching Hoseok’s face light up a little. “See Nara came. I invited Nara.” Success. Namjoon had followed instructions. Get the woman into the apartment. 

Hoseok finally smiled at you, stepping inside the loft. “Nara came! Hi, Nara!”  You’d take that as his seal of approval then. This place was much better for getting to know her. He’d failed miserably at the bar, you wouldn’t allow it here. You were going to play matchmaker tonight. 

“Baby!” 

The sound of Seokjin’s voice in the hall distracted you, and you shrieked a little when you saw him walking towards you, dressed in all black. “Yay, Seokjin! You made it.” He hugged you straight away, landing a kiss on your lips. 

“We managed to get someone else in for the night. I escaped.” He cheered, still holding your waist as he turned his head towards Hoseok. “Happy Birthday, man.” 

“Thanks, Jin,” he smiled, before shooting a misplaced compliment. “You’re looking very handsome. As always.” 

You rolled your eyes, laughing a little as Seokjin pulled a confused face at you. “Ignore him, he’s already a little buzzed.” You still didn’t understand Hoseok’s obsession with your boyfriend’s looks. But the guy wasn’t wrong, Seokjin did indeed look very handsome tonight. As always. 

You glanced around the room, Yoongi and Joy had managed to put up some balloons and a banner in record time after you’d frantically text them the plan half an hour ago. Alcohol stood on the dining table, a few snacks in bowls. Definitely Joy’s doing. You clapped your hands. “Music please! Let’s get this party started!” 

The room erupted into cheers. 

.

.

“Okay, I have an idea,” you yelled into the room. It was over an hour in now. This party was popping, much better than the one happening in bar you bet. You were drunk. Not wasted or anything, but definitely merry. “Let’s play spin the bottle!” 

You’d already played Pass the Balloon, thinking of games from when you were a teenager in desperation as you tried to hook Hoseok and Nara up. The balloon one was going well until Namjoon and her had found themselves in some difficulty. Then it was just a wasted ten minutes as you watched them fail to give in. At least Joon was having fun though, it had been a while since you’d seen him have fun, let alone laugh. 

“We’re not in high school,” Hoseok grumbled from beside you.

Nara piped up from the kitchen. “I think’ll be fun.” 

“Yeah. Yeah. Cool.” Hoseok soon changed his tune. “I think it’ll be fun too. Cool.” 

“Great!” You took the bottle Seokjin had been drinking from and swigged the last bit much to his amusement. You hadn’t told him what you were up to yet, but he was going along with your crazy ideas anyway. He always watched you with fondness, which was sweet considering he also called you the wackiest person he knew. 

“Everyone, get in a circle and sit!” You ordered. They listened. You grabbed Hoseok just before he took off. “You, come here.” Dragging him out into the hall that lead to your bedrooms you tried your best to whisper. “Sit next to Nara.” 

“Huh?” 

God. Was he dumb? “I’m helping you here. Setting you up.” 

“I don’t need you to,” he exasperated. “I got this.” 

You knew for a fact he didn’t “got this”. “It’ll be your turn first, birthday boy n’ all.” You carried on like you hadn’t heard him. “Spin it ever so slightly.” 

“That’s so obvious.” 

“You want to make it obvious.” 

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine.” 

You smiled in triumph, grabbing him by the arm. “Remember: ever so slightly!” And with that you dragged him towards the circle. You were pretty feisty when you needed to be. 

“It’s Hobi’s turn first because he’s the birthday boy,” you told everyone as you pushed him down between Nara and Joy. You sat to Nara’s left; convenient to keep an eye on everything, plus you were next to Seokjin too.   

“It’s so cute how you call him Hobi,” Nara commented, leaning into you with a smile. 

“Oh, really?” You were a little caught off guard. “Everyone calls him that. No big deal.” You tried to think if that was true… You must’ve heard it from somewhere else why would you have started calling him that…?

“Are there rules?” Joy asked. 

“Yes! Rules!” You suddenly realised. You racked your brains. Hoseok and Nara couldn’t kiss in front of everyone. That would just be odd. Hm, maybe this was too obvious. “Whoever the bottle lands on, that’s who you kiss! But there’s a twist. It has to be in my closet.” 

“You got cameras in there or something?” Namjoon piped up, Nara laughed loudly. 

“No,” you said slowly. “Because it’s the biggest. You can’t come out until the deed is done.” 

“Isn’t that like seven minutes in heaven?” Yoongi asked. 

“Yoongi, just shut up and listen.” Why couldn’t people just be excited? You were trying to hook up their friend! “It’s not like that because I don’t want people having sex in my closet.” You nudged Nara and giggled. She slowly laughed back, a little confused. You caught Hoseok shooting you a look but ignored him.

“Kissing only,” you continued. “And we need photographic evidence.”

“What?” Hoseok sounded like he was about to run off any moment. 

“Just a quick pic,�� you shrugged. If truth be told, you wanted Hoseok to have the memory of when you set him up with the girl of his dreams forever. That way he could always thank you. 

“Is the guy to girl ratio a little skewed?” Yoongi pointed out. “I’m not kissing Joon.” 

You ignored him. “TONGUES.” You shouted instead, clapping your hands. “Almost forgot to specify: tongues!” 

“I’m not tonguing anyone bar my girlfriend.” Yoongi was adamant. 

“Whatever.” You sighed. Didn’t he realise this wasn’t about him? You didn’t care who he tongued or didn’t tongue. It was about who Hoseok tongued! 

You stretched over and handed the bottle to him. “Hoseok, spin.” You were careful not to use your, no, the, nickname. There was nothing cute about it. 

“Okay. Kinda nervous.” He was practically shouting. If this was his way of trying to sound casual, he was failing. “Don’t want to mess it up.” Thinking about it, this was a very stupid idea. He was about to spin a bottle four inches to the left. You watched feeling a little sick. 

The sick feeling turned to one of horror in a nanosecond. You watched in slow motion as the bottle passed Nara. It wasn’t four inches, it was eight. He’d landed on you. 

“No.” Hoseok spoke into the room. The denial was strong. “No. No. Nope. No.” 

You could hear the room cheering. Yoongi laughing, saying something about how amazing this was. The game had backfired on you. But in truth you weren’t really listening, too busy having a minor breakdown. 

You looked at a Hoseok. “No.” He said it back. You looked around at everyone else, eyes wide. In denial and begging for someone to say you didn’t have to do it. “No. No. HA,” you forced a laugh. “I have a boyfriend. I can’t kiss anyone else.” 

“If you were going to make me kiss Joon, you’re kissing Hoseok.” 

“Baby, it’s just a game,” Seokjin chuckled, hooking his arm around your shoulders. “It’s fine.” 

“No.” You were adamant. “I would call that cheating. Wouldn’t you?” 

“I would.” Hoseok piped up. At least someone was on your side. No one listened to him. 

“Relax.” Seokjin rubbed the back of your neck. “Come here.” He dipped his head, capturing your mouth in a soft kiss before pulling away and winking. “That’s to remember me. Now get on in there!” 

The guy physically hauled you up. You perfect boyfriend had no problem with this. Damn him. Damn him for being so reasonable and laid back. Yoongi made a beeline for Hoseok. The glee on his face was pretty frightening. 

“To the closest! To the closet! To the closet!” The chanting wasn’t necessary, but it happened any way. Frog marched into your bedroom and pushed into the closet. Surrounded in pitch black before you reached for the light switch. 

“You overshot it,” you hissed. 

“I was under pressure!” Yelling in whispers was hard. “You do not know how stressful it was!” 

You groaned, rubbing your hands all over your face. “Don’t do that you look like The Scream.” Hoseok commented.

You shot him a look before stomping your feet and pointing a finger at him. “I can’t believe this. You were supposed to be in here with Nara!” 

“Why the hell did you sit next to her?” 

“I don’t know. To keep an eye on you!” In hindsight it was a very bad idea, but what would have happened if you hadn’t? Hoseok would be in here with Seokjin? That was even more weird! 

“You guys kissing yet?” Yoongi asked through the door. You could almost see his Lenny face. 

“Oh, god,” Hoseok muttered. He sounded faint. 

“Yeah. We did it!” You yelled back. You were getting you both out of here. “Was super wet. Hoseok has a freakishly long tongue. Yuck.” 

“Hey. No, I don’t.” 

“Send the pic. Did you take a pic?” Yoongi sounded way too excited. 

Shit. The stupid picture?! Why did you even come up with that rule… “Oh, would you look at that. I didn’t hit the button. Oh well, doesn’t matter,” you shrugged, moving to turn the door handle. It didn’t budge. Almost like someone was holding it shut. “Hey, let us out!!” You yelled. 

“No evidence, no escaping.” That was Namjoon. He sounded overly amused. 

“Namjoon!” You shrieked in surprise. You twisted and tugged on the handle, hoping you he would relent, give up so you could get the hell out of here. “Let us out. Let us out! I’m claustrophobic!”

“Kiss and take the pic!” Joy shouted. 

Joy?! That was it! Friendship over. Come to think of it, where was Seokjin? Maybe you could appeal to him. He’d give in surely. You were about to open your mouth when fresh chanting started. “KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS! KISS!” It was so loud you swear you’d wake up with a noise compliant. But more importantly, you could hear Seokjin’s voice along with the rest. Goddamnit. You were really going to have to kiss Hoseok. 

You turned back to him, defeat on your face. He’d been oddly quiet since you’d tried escaping. “Let’s just do it,” he shrugged. 

“What?” You mean, you’d been planning on saying the same thing, but you’d thought it would take some cajoling. 

“Get your phone out. Let’s just get it over with,” he told you. “You want to get out of here, right?” 

“Okay.” You nodded, telling yourself it would be fine. “Yeah, we’ll just kiss. It’s no biggie.” 

“Nope, no biggie.” He stepped closer. You were suddenly sweating. It was really hot in here and you swear the floor was shaking because of how rowdy they were being outside. 

“Hey, remember when I saw your boob that one time?” Hoseok laughed. “It popped right out of your towel when you were talking to me as I brushed my teeth.” He made a popping sound to emphasise, his hand flopping from his chest in an unnecessary reenactment

That had actually been particularly mortifying for you. Especially seeing as it was only a month into living with the guys and you’d just flashed a boob accidentally. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

He looked at you, releasing his mistake. “It doesn’t. Just if I’ve seen your boob, I can kiss you.” There was no correlation at all. You wanted to point that out but now he was a few inches from your face. You were going crosseyed trying to look at him. “Okay, let’s do this,” he murmured. 

“Ew. What did you just do?” You startled, stepping back. 

“Huh?” 

“You licked your lips.” He’d licked his lips and moved forward. He was about to put his wet ones on your normal ones. 

“Of course I did. Do you want dry lips?” 

“Yes! I want dry lips,” you insisted. 

He pulled a face, more than puzzled. “These things can get pretty chapped, but ok.” Before you could say anything else he had his hands on your face, lunging closer with his eyes closed. 

“No. No.” You ducked from his grip, darting to the other side of the closet. Had it always been that small in here? You used to think it was massive. 

Hoseok sighed. “What now?” 

“You cupped my face. You did this thing with your eyes.” 

“What, closed them?!” 

“Don’t kiss me with your eyes closed.” 

“So you want to be staring at each other the whole time?” He thought you were crazy. Could tell by the tone of his voice. He exhaled, voice calmer when he spoke again. “You don’t want to kiss me, do you?” 

“Of course I don’t. It’s weird as hell.” You caught the look on his face. “Oh, come on. You cannot be offended. Does the idea of kissing me not gross you out?” 

“No, it doesn’t gross me out. That’s a bit drastic.” 

God, he was not guilt tripping you right now. It worked anyway. “Fine! Let’s kiss.” He looked startled, probably feeling dizzy by your back and forth. “C’mon. Kiss me, Jung.” He didn’t budge. You started chanting. It was the only way. “Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!” 

“Ok, okay.” He yelled over you. “Shut the hell up.” You continued. You always did like pissing him off. 

In a split second he was in front of you. “Come here.” His cupped your face again and you instantly shut up. Your eyes were locked on his, and in this pretty dismal lighting he looked beautiful. It made your insides feel funny. For a moment there you caught yourself puckering. You caught yourself actually wanting to kiss him, and then in the blink of an eye it was gone. Almost like it never happened. He murmured your name and pulled away, shaking his head 

“What?” 

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “It’s too weird.” 

“Ha! See!” You were triumphant. “It is weird!” 

He shook his head again, chuckling quietly. “No, I mean… This is not how it’s supposed to go.” 

“What?” There was silence. He didn’t try to elaborate. “Supposed to go?” No matter how much you tried to make sense of that, nothing worked. “How’s it supposed to go, Hoseok?” 

“Forget it. I didn’t say anything,” he tried to backtrack. “It came out wrong.” 

“Hoseok.” He didn’t tell you. He just stared at you, unable or unwilling. “Hobi—p”

“You guys win.” You were interrupted as the door burst open, Yoongi grumbling like a giant baby. 

You blinked rapidly, not used to the bright lights. Everything felt a little weird, like you’d been in that closest for years. You walked out first, not looking behind you. You felt a little shaken up. You couldn’t explain why. 

Seokjin wrapped his arms around your shoulders and laughed. “We were sick of waiting.” He smelt of beer and his eyes were unfocused. You hadn’t realised before but he was drunk. Way more than you were. 

“Get back in the circle,” Namjoon ordered, leading the way. God, this game was still going to continue? You’d all be here until tomorrow morning. “You guys are spoilsports.” 

“What’s a little kissing among friends?” Yoongi piped up, which was rich coming from him. “Okay, Nara’s turn,” he said once everyone had gotten back into place. She took the bottle eagerly. “Spin it, girl!” 

You all watched it go. You totally forgot to pray it landed on Hoseok until it was too late. The room erupted into cheers and wolf whistles as it stopped and your heart sunk. 

“NAMJOON!!” Yoongi yelled. “Get it, Kim!” 

You shot Hoseok an apologetic look. 

.

.

“Hey.” You said, stopping by the sofa where Hoseok sat. “I’m sorry about tonight.”

It was a fewhours later, the party was over and you were in your pyjamas ready for bed. Seokjin was already tucked up on his side and you’d just gone to get a glass of water. You didn’t want a headache in the morning. You were surprised to see Hoseok still awake and in the living room. 

He shook his head, laughing a little. “It’s fine. I actually kinda enjoyed it in a strange way.” 

“You did?” 

“Yup. What better way to see 30 in. Trapped in a closet with you.” 

You laughed at his silliness, making your way over to the sink to fill up your glass. You gulped the water down, thinking to yourself. You didn’t care if he was just trying to make you feel better. You were still relieved he hadn’t totally hated it. There were worse people to be stuck in a closet with. You hoped. 

As you placed the now empty glass down a faint banging appeared. Like something hitting against a wall. It got louder and then slowed away. “What’s that?” You asked Hoseok, turning around and genuinely puzzled. 

“Oh, that,” Hoseok chuckled. “That’s Namjoon and Nara. He’s giving it to her good. Real good.” 

Your mouth dropped open, just as the banging re-emerged. Yes, it was definitely coming from his room. His headboard. Then the guilt kicked in. “Oh my god. Hobi, I’m so sorry.” How had this happened? How had you not seen the signs? It was pretty obvious now, thinking back, Nara had been totally into Namjoon. All that hushed talking, giggling and touching. The game of spin the bottle. That girl had rigged her own spin for it to land on him. Only she’d been a good shot. Hoseok on the other hand… 

Hoseok raised his hand, brushing your apologies away. “He asked for permission. He needs this.” Maybe so. This was the first woman Joon had shown an interest in after Sookie. Hoseok was too understanding.  “Besides, I oddly don’t care.” 

Or maybe not. 

“You don’t?” You instantly kicked yourself for prying. Prying and being nosey had been the downfall of this night. Yet here you were itching for more info. 

“Yeah, I just…” He trailed off and shrugged. “Maybe I don’t like Nara that much. It was just a stupid crush. No big deal.” 

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to ask what made him change his mind so suddenly? Made him realise? But that seemed inappropriate. You nodded instead, letting him know you got it, and turned to leave. “Goodnight.” 

“Wait,” he called. “Hold up.” He jumped up and you turned to face him again, waiting like he’d asked. “I want to say sorry too. I made that weird. The game.”

“Oh.” The closet. The awkwardness had slowly disappeared through the night and now you had a sickly feeling it was about to come back. If the look on his face was anything to go by. 

“What I meant was,” he was talking slow, a little stunted. “If I was ever going to kiss you, it wouldn’t be like that. Because of some stupid game.” 

His words took a moment to process. Perhaps you had another hundred questions to ask but they seemed impossible. You should just take what he said and accept it. The game was over and you’d never play it again. You’d never get in a closet with him again. You felt strange, but you didn’t admit that. Instead you smiled. “Okay.” 

That feeling was creeping back. The one from the closet, when he’d been holding your face and staring into your eyes. The one where he’d looked so good under that weird yellow light. Hoseok was handsome, you’d always thought so, but in a way where you’d never actually thought of it, if that made sense… In that closet, you’d thought it. 

“Come on, I’ll walk with you,” he told you, interrupting the butterflies in your stomach. You walked side by side, down the corridor. Your rooms were directly opposite one another. Had you pointed that out before?  

You stopped when he did, forcing yourself to say something. It was just Hoseok. You talked to him all the time. You yelled at him all the time. And laughed, and fooled around. He was your friend. “I promise I’ll make next year’s birthday better.” 

He smiled gently, head tilted, voice soft. “You don’t have to promise me anything. Night.” 

“Goodnight, Hobi.” 

You made to turn, hand nearly on the door handle, but then he pulled you back. One hand reaching for yours, the other curling around your waist. Your mouths met in such a rush you didn’t realise until you felt the warmth of his tongue. It was passionate and eager. The kind of kiss you see in the movies, where no one comes up for air, where their bodies move on their own accord. 

There were no thoughts, just feelings. The feeling of how good this was, and how much it took your breath away. The feeling of his lips on yours and how you should’ve been feeling them a long time ago. The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist, clutching you tight, and yours around his shoulders, holding him close. 

When you finally pulled away, no choice but to, you were trembling. Boneless. Hs breath fanned across your face and you were sad. You wanted more. You wanted to kiss him all night. Slowly, more deliberately, you pushed your lips against his, savouring the feel. He kissed you back just as softly before breaking away for good. 

“That’s how it would go,” he murmured. He was breathing heavily. “How I imagined it to be.”

And that he was gone. To his room, door shut. 

You stood there dazed, lips tingling and you brought your fingers out to touch them. There was silence all around you, and slowly, the haze began to lift. In its wake brought panic and guilt. Seokjin. Your boyfriend was asleep just behind the door.

What had you done? 

You got hardly any sleep. Your brain wouldn’t switch off. The guilt twisting your gut, even more so when you kept thinking of the kiss and how good it was, and how short lived it was. Seokjin centimetres away from you, clueless. You rose early. Everyone else was still asleep, the loft silent. Still in your pyjamas you poured yourself some cereal and sat on at the counter, munching away sombrely. 

Hoseok was the first to wake up. Of course. You should’ve just stayed inside your room, but you couldn’t bear to be near Seokjin. He strolled into the living room casually, making his way to the kitchen. You tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped because you didn’t know what it meant. Were you angry, panicked, something else? 

“Good morning.” He greeted casually. 

Angry. You were angry. It rushed up your body. How dare he be so casual. As if nothing had happened. “Seriously? Good morning?” You retorted. He was making himself a coffee. “What’s good about it, Hoseok? You kissed me last night!” 

He gave a little shrug. “I know I did.” 

You were flabbergasted by his gall. Had to force yourself to continue. “Well,” you stared at him. “Aren’t you going to explain yourself?” 

“I already did.” He spoke simply. “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to show you how I would kiss you.” 

Nope. You weren’t feeling guilty over this any longer. Not when he was acting so unfazed. He was the one who had kissed you. This was his doing. And he didn’t care at all. “To what? Prove a point?” You demanded. 

He scoffed, dropping a teaspoon into the sink. “No, not to prove a point.” He turned to face you, back leaning against the counter. “I wanted to kiss you.” 

Your mind was beginning to reel. “I have a BOYFRIEND,” you said slowly, unable to keep a lid on your anger. “Who I had to sleep next to last night.” 

Right on cue, Seokjin came from around the corner, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes. You froze, feeling instantly sick. You hope he hadn’t heard anything. 

He hadn’t. He smiled when he saw you both, making his way over. “Morning, guys.” 

“Seokjin, hey,” you breathed, feeling a little trembly. You pushed your bowl away, not hungry now. You caught Hoseok’s eyes. 

“Morning,” he nodded, turning to look at Seokjin but averting his gaze. 

Seokjin leant down and kissed your cheek, rubbing your shoulder. “Did you sleep at all last night? You were tossing and turning like crazy.” 

You felt yourself panicking. You needed to cool it. “Ah, I think I was still pumped from the party.” You laughed lightly. 

Seokjin joined in. “You guys sure do know how to have fun. I think I’ve drunk more in these past two months than I have in my entire life.” You heard Hoseok gave the lamest laugh back. It sounded more like a scoff and you shot him a look.  

“Hey, wanna go to the zoo today?” Seokjin suggested. You’d been on about going for weeks now just hadn’t gotten around to it. “I’m not due at the hospital until tonight.” 

You forced yourself to smile. Hoped it seemed natural. “I’d love to.” 

“Perfect,” he grinned, reaching to kiss your lips. They twinged, and you remembered the feeling of Hoseok’s mouth. You were also very aware he was a witness to all this. You pulled back quickly. “Wanna shower first?” Seokjin asked. 

“No, it’s okay. You go.” 

You couldn’t bear them to be alone together. Hoseok was acting weird, you didn’t trust him not to tell Seokjin. As it would have it though, by the time you looked across at the counter, Hoseok was gone, already walking off back to his room. 

.

.

“What’s wrong?” You asked Seokjin as you made your way into your room. You’d showered straight after him. Gotten dressed in the bathroom because you did not fancy bumping into Hoseok wrapped in a towel. Even though you had many a time. 

Seokjin looked a little sad, you could tell by his face straight away something was up, and  delayed, you felt dread begin prick at your spine. What if Hoseok had told him? 

“Bad news. They need me at the hospital.” He sounded guilty that he had to let you down. 

While you felt instant relief. He didn’t know about the kiss and your guilty conscious was happy you wouldn’t have to spend all day together. You felt terrible at the realisation. Maybe you should just tell him what happened. But… not like this. Not today. You were a serial put-er off-er.

“That’s okay, it can’t be helped,” you told him, making your way over to the bed where he sat perched on. You rubbed his shoulder. You both liked doing that to one another. Thinking that made you sad. “I feel bad for you though. You haven’t had a proper day off in weeks.” 

It was true, Seokjin worked harder than any person you’d met before. You didn’t know how he did it. More sadness filled you. You couldn’t explain why. This time it wasn’t the guilt over the kiss, but something else. Everything had changed. 

“You’re cute,” he smiled. “I’ll be fine. Always am.” Those words stuck with you. “I’m sad we can’t go to the zoo. Rain check?” 

“Rain check,” you nodded, smiling slightly. 

“What will you do instead today?” He asked, before chuckling. “Hoseok’s here all day. Keep him company.” 

Your eyes widened. “You’ve been talking to Hob–Hoseok?” Damn that nickname. He didn’t deserve to be called Hobi. 

“Yeah, while you were in the shower.” 

Change the subject. “I think I may hang out with Joy.” It was the weekend after all, and Yoongi had work this afternoon and then he was going out for drinks with some coworkers. Joy would be free. “We can have a girly day. I could stay over maybe.” You were babbling. Trying to make this believable even though it wasn’t a lie. “Face masks, pillow fights, all that sleepover stuff.” 

Seokjin looked at you funny and laughed affectionately. “You’re really trying to relive your high school years, aren’t you? You’re cute,” he repeated. He always called you cute. He wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you a little closer. “—and weird. That’s why I like you.” 

Yes. Sometimes you did think you were a little bit “too much” for Seokjin, but he always seemed so endeared by you. Usually this kind of talk made you happy, but you felt strange inside. Like everything was slowly dying. Seokjin kissed you, it didn’t bring you back to life.    “I’ll see you tomorrow night. Promise I’ll be free.” 

You forced yourself to smile. Any more and your lips would start aching. “Can’t wait.” 

He rubbed his nose against yours, voice low. “You can come over. Maybe we can play seven minutes in heaven…” 

You giggled, but in your mind you couldn’t stop thinking about your kiss with Hoseok. 

.

.

“Hoseok kissed me last night.” 

It was a few hours later, not even twenty four after the kiss, and you were finally telling someone about it. You weren’t built to keep secrets. Joy knew that. She knew you the best out of anyone. She’d been your best friend for over twenty years. That’s why it was her you told. Curled up on her sofa you blurted it out. No lead up, no ‘Hey, can I tell you something?’ Just straight out with it. 

She turned her attention away from the television, a look of confusion spread all over her face. “During the game or?” 

You breathed out. “After. Once everyone had gone home.” 

Her eyes widened, but she spoke slowly, as if she was trying really hard to understand. “I’m confused. Was it a drunk thing?” 

“I don’t know why he did it,” you admitted. If you had a solid answer maybe you could get your head around it more. “He said he wanted to show me how our first kiss would go.” 

“Hold up.” Now Joy had come to life. Still in shock, but needing explanations. “He imagined a first kiss? Does he like you?” 

“No,” you exclaimed, pulling a disgusted face. “It’s Hoseok. Me and Hoseok.” 

“Do you like him?” 

Was she crazy? “No.” But that sounded too mean. “Yes. I mean, of course I like him, he’s my friend.”

“Christ. He kissed you,” she muttered, shaking her head a little in disbelief. 

“I kissed him back.” Had you left out that minor detail? It was all very well saying Hoseok kissed you, but you’d let him, and you’d kissed him back just as hard. The memory had your insides feeling funny again. 

Joy looked a little in stunned. You didn’t blame her. You and Hoseok kissing? His mouth on yours, his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth… You needed a cold shower. Where was your guilt now?! 

“What was it like?” She asked hesitantly. Curious. 

“Really good.” You couldn’t lie. And you couldn’t keep the truth in. You just needed to be honest with yourself. “I’m so confused. Joy, I cant stop thinking about it. I’m so mad at him but it was just so… It was just so hot. But out of this world. Like, I saw through time and space, and it was Hoseok doing it!” In what world did that seem realistic? He was your friend! 

“Damn, Hoseok has game.” Joy sounded half impressed. 

You sighed sadly. “I think it was the best kiss of my life but it can’t be because…” There she was. The guilt. She settled in your stomach, heavy and sickly. “Seokjin. I have a boyfriend. One who I’ve liked for the longest time.” 

You remembered how much you wanted to make it work with him while things were still just a hook up and how heartbroken you’d been when he’d told you he couldn’t give you that. How confused and kind of mad you were when he found you again and confessed his feelings and how happy you’d been when you’d given him another chance. When Hoseok had encouraged you to give it a try. Nothing made sense. Everything had changed after one kiss.  

“Are you going to tell him?” Joy asked. 

“I don’t know. I was going to forget the kiss ever happened but I don’t think I can do that,” you admitted. Seokjin deserved the truth, but selfishly, more than that, you couldn’t live like this, so conflicted. It wasn’t black and white. You’d kissed Hoseok back. 

“Just think it through, okay?” She told you gently. “If you tell him it’ll make things awkward. You’re friends with Hoseok. You live with Hoseok.” 

You didn’t think Joy got it. You didn’t think you got it. You couldn’t forget about the kiss. That’s why you had to tell Seokjin. “No, I should tell him.” Your voice was a little shaky. “I kissed Hoseok back. It wouldn’t be fair to blame it all on him. Seokjin needs to know.” 

.

.

You slipped through the door, trying to be as quiet as possible. You turned left, towards your bedroom and began creeping. It was past midnight but you still wanted to go as undetected as possible, praying Namjoon and Hoseok were in their rooms already. 

“Hey.” You winced when you heard Hoseok’s voice, freezing. “I was waiting up for you. Where were you all day?” 

You turned back slowly, trying to make your voice sound as neutral as possible. If truth be told, the last person you wanted to have a conversation with right now was him. “At Joy’s. I was going to stay over but Yoongi got drunk and she had to pick him up.” 

“You were going to stay over because of me?” He asked. You stayed silent and he sighed your name. “Look, I’m really sorry I did this. Made things awkward between us. It’s the last thing I want.” 

Your jaw tightened in anger. Then why the hell had he kissed you? “I don’t feel awkward. Do you feel awkward?” 

“I feel a little awkward.” He admitted, hands in his pockets. You stayed a few feet apart. “You left the house all day to avoid me.” 

“I’m not feeling awkward. I’m feeling…mad.” 

“Mad?” He had the cheek to sound surprised. “At me?” 

“You kissed me when I have a boyfriend.” You explained like you had to. “Did you not think of the consequences?”

He lowered his head, sheepish, yet he still didn’t apologise. “Are you going to tell him?” He asked instead. “Just don’t.” 

“What?” Your voice was low, anger rising. 

Hoseok shrugged. “Just forget it ever happened.” 

“Forget it ever happened?!” You exclaimed. “I can’t.” You shook your head, the memory of the kiss pushing its way back into your head. No. That wasn’t why. “I can’t lie to him. You’re asking me to lie to him?” 

“It’s not lying, it’s just not telling him something happened. He’s oblivious to it anyways.” 

“What the hell?” You couldn’t begin to explain why you felt so frustrated. So offended. “I can’t do this.” You voice shook. You were blowing up. “I was happy before last night. Like really happy, and now everything is ruined because you kissed me!” He stayed silent. You couldn’t read his expression. 

“Like jeez,” you laughed in frustration. “It doesn’t make sense, Hoseok. You were encouraging me to give him another chance and now what, you like me?” You mocked, instantly regretting it by the way his face fell. 

“Is that funny to you?” He scoffed. “Is the possibility I like you so hilarious you feel the need to laugh in my face?” Oh no. “Or are you laughing because it seems so crazy? Impossible?” 

You could feel the dread prickling your skin, but all you could do was watch him in horror. “I like you.” The way he said your name afterwards made something inside of you long. You pushed it away, because otherwise your legs might give way from under you. 

“I like you a lot. Way more than a friend and I don’t know for how long.” 

You couldn’t speak. Just watched him struggle to find the right words himself. “It-It’s just one of those things. You came into my life like a bulldozer and I kept thinking, how had I gone through nearly thirty years of my life not knowing you?” He scoffed. “It sounds stupid, but it’s true. Slowly I just began thinking maybe one day it’ll be our chance. It wasn’t urgent. Just kinda there in my subconscious. Most of the time I didn’t even think about it.” He shrugged. “I was okay with waiting. Okay with watching you date other guys because it wasn’t our turn yet. One day,” he sighed. “One day it would be, and I’d get to kiss you like last night.” 

The kiss was back behind your eyes. The feeling of his lips, the taste of his mouth. The touch of his body. For some reason you were angry. 

“That game messed it all up and I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry for kissing you. I won’t apologise for that.” 

“No.” You finally said something. It was final, but your voice shook. “No. You can’t be doing this right now, Hoseok.” You pointed at him, accusing him. “I’m happy. For the first time in a long time I was happy. I like Seokjin. He’s the first guy I’ve really felt something with since Seungwoo. Do you know how important that is?” He should understand that more than anyone, with what happened with Minah. 

“You expect me to throw it all away because one day you see yourself with me? One day?!” You were a goddamn after thought. One of those pacts friends made. If we’re still single at 40 we’ll get married. Was that what you were to him? You blinked away frustrated tears. He was one of your best friends and that’s how he saw you? 

“Oh, please,” he sneered. He sounded hurt, but mad. You’d never seen him angry before. You hated it. You’d bickered many times, but never to this level. “You’re always choosing shitty men.” 

“You’ve known me for a year!” 

“Yeah, and in that time it hasn’t been great,” he scoffed. You thought of the handful of men Hoseok had witnessed you date and cringed. He was judging you. Two could play at that game. Childish or not. 

“Oh, and you have such a great taste in woman. If I remember correctly, one robbed you after you slept with her!” 

“That could’ve happened to anyone!” 

Whatever. “Seokjin is not a shitty man!” He was kind, and sweet, and probably way too good for you. 

“You were his fuck buddy for weeks and when you told him you had feelings for him he ran away only to come back with his tail between his legs. He had his chance and he blew it. You deserve better.” 

“You were the one who told me to go for it!” You exasperated. He wasn’t making sense. He was the one who encouraged you to give Seokjin a second chance. Without Hoseok, you wouldn’t be together right now. 

“I regret that now. What more do you want me to say?” 

Really? You stared at him. “I want you to say you don’t know anything.” 

“I don’t know anything?” 

“Yes, you don’t know anything about anything.” He just said things, did things, without thinking of the consequences. He was thoughtless. “Seokjin might’ve been the one, but now it’s all ruined!” 

“He’s not.” 

Fuck him. He sounded so sure. What did he know? “It’s ruined because of you!” You shouted in frustration. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel.” All you could remember was the kiss. “I was happy and now I’m not.” 

“Well I’m sorry for making you unhappy,” he sighed. “That’s what I do.” He threw his hands into the air and laughed bitterly. “I’m sorry for thinking me and you could be something great. I’m sorry for not having my life together. Not being rich, or for not being devilishly handsome—which I may add,” he shot, “is freaky. No man should be that beautiful!” 

For god’s sake. What was he trying to do now? Guilt trip you? “What are you going on about? Those are your insecurities. I don’t care about all that stuff.” Was he trying to say you were shallow? 

“Of course you do,” he insisted. “Seokjin has it all. What do I have? Nothing. I’m 30 and work at a bar. I dropped out of law school and forget to shower some days. I don’t own my own home. I live in a loft with two other guys and you.” 

You? Why did he say it like that? For someone who supposedly liked you he wasn’t doing a good job of showing it. From the seems of things he didn’t like you. 

“Do yourself a favour and just don’t tell him. Forget about me and be happy. Fall in love with him, marry him, have tons of super pretty babies.” 

Jaw tight, you sneered. “This is why we wouldn’t work out.” You told him. “You’re childish.” He wasn’t relationship material. He wasn’t what you were looking for. “You’re selfish. You’re mean.” 

He scoffed. “I’m mean?” 

Your bottom lip wobbled, eyes filling up. “Yeah, you really are.” And then you stormed off. Down the hall and into your room. Just in time to hide the tears that slipped down your cheeks. He couldn’t see you cry. He couldn’t see he’d gotten to you. 

He yelled your name, calling you back, sounding regretful, but you didn’t listen and he didn’t follow you. 

The next morning you didn’t see Hoseok at all. He was either in his room when you finally emerged from yours, or he was already at the bar. You were thankful either way. You didn’t think you could handle facing him. You were still so mad, but more than that you were upset. Confused. 

You showered and got ready with a struggle. Forced yourself to go grocery shopping even though you had no appetite for food, and then you just tried to keep yourself distracted. You caught up with some marking that needed to be done by tomorrow, meal prepped for lunches and tried to seem normal around Namjoon who was milling about the loft too. Then Seokjin messaged your asking if you still wanted to hang out this evening. You replied yes with a heavy heart. 

On your way there you’d convinced yourself that you weren’t going to tell him. Yes, you had kissed Hoseok back, but he was the one that had made the move. You could forget about it with time. You could be happy with Seokjin again. Your guilty conscience would go. 

But sitting with him on the sofa, his arm looped around your shoulders and his soft laugh rumbling in your ears every time something funny happened in the movie you were watching, you realised something. The only reason you didn’t want to tell him was because you wanted to spite Hoseok. You were being selfish. The same thing you’d accused Hoseok of last night. 

Seokjin deserved to now, whatever the outcome. For him, for you, for Hoseok… 

“I kissed Hoseok.” 

It didn’t sound like your voice, but you’d said it. 

You felt Seokjin move and you automatically wriggled out from under his arm. He paused the movie, looking back at you with a bemused expression. “You kissed him?” He laughed slightly. “Why didn’t time say? We would’ve left you out sooner.” 

He’d mistaken what you meant. Just like Joy. You closed your eyes softly, sadness filling you. You wanted to say yes, in the game more than anything, just not to hurt him, but that wasn’t the truth. You’d kissed Hoseok off your own back and you’d enjoyed it. “No,” you said softly. “We kissed after the party. Later on when I went to get some water. He kissed me, but I kissed him back.” You didn’t take a moment to pause, needing it all to be out. 

Seokjin was silent as he absorbed the information. Shocked being a given. Finally he said something. “You kissed him while I was in the loft too? In your bed?” 

When he worded it like that you felt sick. You nodded sadly. “I feel terrible, Seokjin. I do. I just couldn’t not tell you. Hoseok said to forget it ever happened but I… It–We…” You fumbled over your words and took a moment to compose yourself. “We argued last night and I’m just… I’m really confused.” 

Two nights ago everything had changed. You’d been in this perfect new relationship. It had promise, it was going somewhere and you were over the moon. Then the kiss had happened and you hadn’t been able to see a future with Seokjin anymore. No matter how small. 

His face was unreadable as he looked at you. You wanted him to get mad. You wanted him to yell at you and tell you how much of a horrible person you were. You deserved it. But that wasn’t his style. Instead he breathed out some kind of little laugh. “There’s no need to be confused. I get it now. You like Hoseok. Of course you do.” 

You were too surprised to even think about refuting him. Of all the things for him to say, you had not been expecting that. “Seeing you guys together,” he carried on. “You always bicker, get on one another’s nerves, but now I see it.” He chuckled. Sadly amused. “It was chemistry. You two just bounce off one another so well. I don’t know, maybe you’re frustrated too, mad you’re not together.” 

You let his words sink in. Trying to think of every interaction you’d had with Hoseok since you met him. It was pretty much an instant connection. You’d always thought so, but did that really mean… You couldn’t let yourself think here. In front of Seokjin, after you’d just confessed to him. But everything was flooding to the forefront of your brain, and it was hard work trying to stop it. There was no point trying to deny it. Not now. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” you told him instead. Meaning it sincerely. You hadn’t even realised anything yourself. Not even when it was right in front of you. When Hoseok was telling you he liked you. 

He smiled sadly. “Better for it to happen now, right?” 

“I really care about you, Seokjin. These past few weeks have been amazing. Even before, when we were…” You stopped and shook your head. “You’re the best and I’m really sorry.” You truly did mean that. No matter how lame it sounded. 

“You’re a really great girl, remember that,” he told you. “Maybe if I’d figured out my feelings months ago things would be different, but then again,” he shrugged, “maybe you’re just meant to be with him.” 

Meant to be with him. Hoseok. Were you meant to be with Hoseok? 

Seokjin took you hand and squeezed it gently. “I’m done,” he murmured, his eyes kind but firm. “I don’t want to be second best.” 

.

.

You had déjà vu. You were slipping through the door again. This time you didn’t try to creep into your room though. You made your way into the kitchen, needing a glass of water. Just to take some time for yourself, needing to find some clarity. You found it as soon as your eyes landed on Hoseok walking from the direction of the bathroom. Everything fell into place, began to make sense. 

He stopped dead when he saw you, awkward and probably panicked after last night. “Hey,” you said gently. “Where is everyone?” It was strange for the loft to be so quiet on a Sunday night. 

He cleared his throat. “Namjoon has Nara over, Yoongi‘s still over Joy’s place.” He was already beginning to walk away.  “I’ll be out of your way, just going to bed.” 

You opened your mouth to call him back. You had so much to say, but… But was tonight a good time to start? Your head was still whirring. Sadness and guilt over your breakup with Seokjin but you also felt giddy at the sight of Hoseok. You wanted to say sorry for the argument, for all the things you said, and most of all you wanted to tell him that you—

“Aren’t you supposed be staying with Jin tonight?” Hoseok had stopped, turning back with the afterthought. “Namjoon mentioned it.”  

He didn’t need to explain himself. You didn’t care how he knew. You didn’t care about a lot right now. Only one thing. “He broke up with me,” you replied. “I told him about the kiss and now it’s over.” 

Hoseok’s eyes bulged, visibly shocked. “What? Didn’t you tell him it was my fault?” He walked over to you. There was still a distance but it was a start. “No,” he muttered. “Why would he break up with you? It’s not your fault.”

Sweet, caring Hoseok. You smiled at him, the words that left you almost bubbling into a laugh. “It is.” 

He looked mighty confused. He was probably thinking you’d lost it right now. You hadn’t. You’d only just found it. You took a deep breath. It was now or never. “It’s my fault because I like you too.” 

Silence. He looked stunned. It seemed strange to say it out loud but also sort of invigorating. Nothing made sense in this world, bar one thing. Your feelings for him. You laughed, more words now rushing out. “I really like you. And I don’t know for how long. Maybe from the beginning,” you shrugged, “maybe from the kiss. I don’t know.” 

You’d been trying to pinpoint the exact moment on the ride home. Going through each memory you had with him in an attempt to understand when it happened. There was no real answer. It had snuck up on you, wanted you to be oblivious. And you think that was how it was for him too. Why last night had been so confusing. 

You were mad at him because you liked him too. You were mad at him because you thought he didn’t like you enough. He didn’t like you like he thought he liked you. God, you were a mess. Your thoughts weren’t making sense. What were you trying to say?

“I don’t know,” you repeated. “My head’s a mess and I really have a headache right now.” You rubbed your temples and then remembered something. “I also have a flat tyre. I think I drove over a nail on the way here. I don’t know how I’m going to get to work tomorrow morning.” 

“You could borrow my ca—

“Hobi, I don’t care.” You interrupted, laughing again. You felt funny, like you were floating. It felt good to call him that again. “I don’t care about anything right now, except you.” His eyes flashed at that, something changing on his face. He moved forward, closer to you. The counter was the only thing that separated you now. 

“I don’t understand anything and I’m really confused, but I know one thing,” you insisted, finally giving into the urge that had been raging your body for nearly two days. “I really want to kiss you.” You swallowed, tasting the memory of him. “Again. I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. It was the best kiss of my life.” 

He rounded the counter in the blink of an eye. He’d stayed silent for the majority of your confession, except for offering you his car, the idiot. You almost laughed again; why was he so sweet? Yeah, you would’ve laughed if he didn’t look so irresistible right now. So serious, so desperate, so intense. He was breathing heavily, almost panting, eyes blown black. 

“Can I kiss you now?” His voice was rough, broken with desire. 

You parted your mouth to reply. To say yes, to say please, to almost beg, but his lips were already on yours, hands cupping your face. Hungry, needy, eager. He pushed you against the counter your back was to, and you let out a gasp, maybe more of a moan. He took the opportunity to swipe his tongue against yours. He tasted like toothpaste. You hated spearmint, but now you loved it. 

You grasped him, letting your hands roam over his back. You wanted to touch him, feel him, never let him go. You grabbed the corners of his t-shirt with your fists and pulled him closer. He stumbled forward and your head feel back against one of the overhead cupboards. You didn’t care, clung to his mouth as he tried to pull back and check on you. “Don’t stop,” you whined against his lips. 

He chuckled but it trembled, probably had something to do with the way you were pressing your body into his. He gave up in the end, needing to get his hands on you too. He moved to your waist, hands gripping around the small of your back, holding you tight and pushing just as much into you, because he wanted to feel you against him too. To get as close as possible because there had always been a stupid, unnecessary distance between you. 

You felt hot, a little sweaty and out of breath, unsure how a kiss had got you this wrecked. It was just as good as his birthday—no, better. It was better because now you both knew what you wanted. 

“Hey—I know—this isn’t r-really the–mm–time,” Hoseok was trying to speak but he couldn’t stay away from your lips long enough. Words blurred and getting caught short, but you just kissed him more furiously. “But I really f-feel guilty about—last night. All the–the stuff I said–”

“It’s fine,” you got out, but it was enough to begin distracting you. 

He pulled back successfully, gazing at you, eyes warm and sincere. His breath fanned across your face. “I just feel really bad about all that stuff I said about Seokjin. He’s a good guy, I just—

“Let’s not speak about him now,” you interrupted softly. You took a deep breath, slipping your hands up his sides to rub his back. You were both coming down from that high slowly. 

He sighed weakly. “Yeah, I know, I just,” he paused, struggling, before giving a small shrug. “I was jealous of him.” 

“It’s okay,” you reassured. But now Seokjin was back in your head. The guilt was still there. Of course it wouldn’t go immediately, no matter how understanding he had been. But these emotions were conflicting. Plus, you knew you and Hoseok couldn’t be this simple. There was still so much to talk about. From both of you. 

“We need to talk before anything happens, right?” He read your mind. You smiled and nodded, feeling a little sad. 

And right at that moment a familiar banging appeared again. You caught Hoseok’s eyes and you both burst out laughing. Trust Namjoon to ease the moment.   

Hoseok pulled you upright, wrapping his arms around your waist now in a slight hug. You wrapped yours around his neck and he grinned. “We should go on a date tomorrow. We can talk then.” Your eyes widened. A date? Hoseok didn’t do dates. Not proper ones anyway. 

“I want to to this properly.” Again with the mind reading, you smiled to yourself. “I’ll take you out for dinner and we can, I don’t know, talk about what this means.” 

You grinned, Namjoon’s headboard still hitting the wall. “I’d really love that.” 

You were giddy all day. Couldn’t concentrate in work. You were still replaying last night in your head. After the kiss you’d watched some television together, like you always did on Sunday nights. You sat close, but not entwined, too afraid Namjoon would pop out of his bedroom—hopefully fully clothed. You couldn’t explain why that fear hadn’t been there when Hoseok had your back against the counter, but whatever, you weren’t ready for the weirdness that would unfold, nor the conversations that would need to be had. You hadn’t even talked it out yourselves yet. 

That was for tonight. Hoseok had text you just gone midday to tell you he’d gotten his shift for tonight covered and he’d booked dinner at a restaurant for 8pm. After that it had all felt too real. You were nervous, scared and excited all wrapped up into one. You were going on a date with Hoseok. Your friend Hoseok. The one who you’d bumped into this morning in the kitchen. The one who’d handed you a coffee with a shy good morning because he couldn’t say anything else with Namjoon rummaging around in the fridge next to you, totally oblivious. 

And later on, once you were home, getting ready for the date was a whole new experience all together. You know, living with the guy in question and all. You bumped into one another in the bathroom, brushing your teeth together with awkward giggles. He met you outside of your bedroom once you were dressed, eyes wide, cheeks a little flushed at the sight of you. Maybe the fact you were dressed up for him now turned him speechless. “You look beautiful,” he’d managed to splutter finally. 

He didn’t scrub up too badly himself. He was in a shirt for one. Loose at the neck, no tie, but a shirt nonetheless. And dress pants. Where exactly was he taking you? You didn’t have time to ask because you had to ninja your way out of the loft before you got caught. 

Dinner started off awkwardly at first. Stumbling over words, small talk drying up, lots of nervous laughter, but gradually you both found your groove. How could you not? It was you and Hoseok! All the history and chemistry you had didn’t just disappear because of one date. You were soon giggling together when you noticed a man accidentally walk into the women’s restroom. Childish, yes, but who cared? That’s who you and he were. 

By the main course you were both ready to open up, talk about you guys and what this meant. 

“I’m sorry about yelling the other night,” he apologised, pushing some spinach around his plate absentmindedly. 

You gave a little shrug.  “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I was mad at myself more than anything.” 

“No,” he shook his head. “You don’t have to do that.” 

“Do what?” 

“Blame yourself.” He looked across at you. “You were mad because I kissed you when you had a boyfriend. I mean, it was a pretty dick-y thing to do and I feel really bad about it.” 

You smiled, that meant a lot to you. It was a complicated situation. The suddenness of it all the sole problem. 

You didn’t want to talk about Seokjin. You didn’t want to compare the two men, even though throughout the day your mind had tried to. In all honestly, both were very different, but both were good men. There was no winner, there was no loser. It just happened that you couldn’t ignore this chance with Hoseok. Not when he had been there first. Maybe looking at it now, you and Seokjin were different kinds of people. Maybe the relationship wasn’t as perfect as you’d thought. Not your perfect anyway. It could’ve worked out yes, but you knew he deserved someone better than you. Someone different to you. 

You realised something at that moment. Seokjin had always found your quirkiness adorable, but Hoseok found it normal. You didn’t know what that meant, but it made sense in your own head. It made you happy. You were here, in front of one another, on a date. Nothing else mattered.  

“If you hadn’t have done it we wouldn’t be here right now.” You told him. It was no good just thinking everything in your head. You needed to tell Hoseok some things. You wanted to tell him how happy you were. “On a dateee.” 

He laughed, relaxing into his chair. “We’re on a date!” 

He couldn’t quite believe it still. You laughed at how cute he was being and looked around. “You chose the fanciest place.” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, looking a little sheepish. “Did I go over the top? Feel like I did.” He stopped and then laughed. “I hope your heels aren’t too high, we gotta run outta here when they fetch the bill.” 

“Hobi,” you whined. He didn’t need to make a joke like that. Then you thought of something else. You hoped he didn’t take you here because he thought you expected it. Any restaurant would’ve done. “Hey,” you said softly. “I hope you don’t still believe all that stuff about you just being a bartender.” He shrugged a little sheepish. “I teach adults how to write fiction and I’m not too hot at it. Half of them are failing.” 

He chuckled at that, picking up his glass of wine. “I think the problem probably lies with them not you.” 

You looked at him, needing him not to laugh this off. You wanted him to see you didn’t care what job he had. “My point is, my job isn’t all that glamorous. It doesn’t have to be.” You thought he liked his job. It should never be used as something to separate you. 

He sighed softly, giving in. “I’m sorry I laid all that stuff on you. They’re my insecurities not yours. It’s just after… Just after the breakup with Minah. The stuff she said to me really stuck.” 

You reached for one of his hands, grasping is fingers. The warmth was all you needed. “I get that.” You still had some insecurities left over from your breakup with Seungwoo, but with Hoseok none of those things mattered. “I’m sorry for calling you childish, and selfish.” 

“And mean. Don’t forget mean,” he joked. 

“And mean.” You looked away sheepishly, before realising you needed to look him in the eyes for this. “I don’t want you to be insecure around me. I like you for you.” 

He chuckled quietly, squeezing your hand. “Thank you.” 

“I think it’s cool that you work at a bar.” You wanted to lighten the moment now, shrugging. “But maybe that’s because of the free drinks you give me.” 

He laughed, both of you pulling your hand back to carry on eating. “I’m actually not allowed to do that, but you’re so pretty how could I not?” 

You felt your cheeks flush at his casual remark. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“Very much so. Plus other things…” 

You smiled shyly. “I find you pretty too. Huh?” You noticed the face he pulled. “Is that not a good thing?” 

“I’m not pretty,” he baffled. 

“Are too.” You insisted. You’d always thought so, especially when he smiled. “I think you’re sexy too. Very sexy.” 

“Oh yeah?” He seemed to like that one better. “What’s so sexy about me?” 

You looked down at his wine. It wasn’t the right alcohol, but it made you remember something. “I like the way you drink beer. You gargle it a little.” 

“I do?” He looked puzzled. 

“Yeah, you do, and I don’t know, it’s kinda hot.” He looked chuffed at that. “What about me?” You added. 

“Hm,” he thought out loud. “It’s not really sexy, maybe a little misogynistic,” he laughed, “but I like when you struggle to open things. Like that bag of chips last week. When you ask for my help, I don’t know, it makes me feel good about myself.” 

It made him feel good when he opened a bag of chips for you? You awed loudly. “That’s so sweet, Hobi.” 

He scoffed, a little embarrassed. “Oh.” He remembered something. “I like when guys mistake me for your boyfriend.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I like that too. And vice versa.” You had never been able to pinpoint why in the past. It was usually gone before you could even try to explain it, but it had still been there. Numerous times. You’d just been clueless. 

“Isn’t this scary?” You asked. It was new and exciting, and you were happy, but it was also weird to be here. Sat opposite your friend, your roommate… the man you had feelings for. The man who up until a few nights ago, had a crush on another woman. No wonder he hadn’t really cared when Namjoon asked if he could bone Nara. And he, well he was sitting opposite you, who up until last night had a boyfriend. Talk about whiplash. This was crazy. 

“It’s the scariest thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted. 

“We’re like best friends, but is it because we’ve always had feelings for one another?” 

Hoseok upturned his shoulders. “I honestly have no clue. It makes sense, but…” 

“But at the same time it doesn’t?” You finished for him. He nodded. If he had never kissed you that night, then this wouldn’t be happening right now. Maybe it would’ve never happened. You would’ve kept missing one another. The moment never there for him and you probably oblivious until it was too late… 

But that wasn’t the case now. You were both here. Suddenly and maybe not in the best of circumstances, but you were here. That’s all that mattered. Was there really such a thin like between friendship and lovers? You tried imagining kissing Namjoon but couldn’t do it. It made you feel weird. Not the same weird you’d felt locked in the closet with Hoseok. 

“I don’t want to ruin what we have already but I can’t ignore these feelings I have for you.” Hoseok explained. “I’ve been repressing them for so long they’re uncontrollable.” He chuckled. 

“Same. I think.” You were beginning to realise that love didn’t have to punch you in the face immediately for it to be the real thing. “If I ignore how I feel about you I’ll spontaneously combust. I know it. I will.” These feelings had hit you full force and now you couldn’t ignore them even if you tried. 

He chuckled at your passion. “I don’t want you to spontaneously combust.” A thought popped into his head. “What will Yoongi say? Namjoon?” He groaned, rubbing his temples.  “What do we even tell them?” 

“Maybe we won’t tell them for a little while?” You suggested. You didn’t want to share this new, uncertain thing with other people just yet. The loft wasn’t the best set up in this situation. “Just until we work out what’s going on between us?” 

“Like keeping it a secret?” 

“I know it’s not ideal but I don’t want to mess this up.” He nodded, agreeing with you. “If we try and fail our friendship could get ruined. That terrifies me, Hobi.” You wanted to be honest here. All cards on the table. “I love you a lot. I don’t want to jeopardise anything.” 

“Hey, hey, nothing will get ruined, I promise you,” he reassured, reaching for your hand with both of his. “We’ll take it as slow as you want. This is new and if we do it properly then everything will be okay in the end.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Whatever the outcome. If we decide to move forward or decide to just stay friends, we’ll be okay.” 

Maybe that’s why you’d never realised your feelings for him. Why he’d never said anything. Your friendship meant too much to one another. If that was ruined somehow it would kill you both. But it didn’t have to be like that. If you both saw the potential danger, you could avoid it best you could. You shouldn’t be thinking of the potential end if it was only just the beginning. 

“You’re right,” you smiled back. 

Letting go of your hand he relaxed back into the chair again. “But for tonight, let’s think of this as a new thing. It’ll take the pressure off us.” 

“How do you mean?” You asked, curious. He had a giant smirk on his face. 

He shrugged. “Maybe we met on Tinder. Decided to go for a drink.” 

Oh. Okay, you saw where he was going. A little bit of make believe. That sounded fun. You and Hoseok always messed around like this. Why would it change? “Yeah,” you nodded, getting into it instantly. “We liked what we saw. I liked the way you dress.” 

He snorted. “You hate my dress sense. You told me I dress like a twenty year old hipster.”  

“I like it!” You insisted. You mean, in your defence you’d only said that because he’d said you dressed like a granny. He’d started it. 

“Thank you.” He was satisfied, you both could commence. “I liked your glasses. Reminded me of the librarian kink I had in high school.” 

“Eww.” You wrinkled your nose. “Weirdo.” You both laughed loudly. 

.

.

“Goodnight, pretty lady. I’ll see you in the morning,” Hoseok murmured. The night was over, the loft was empty, the guys probably already in bed, when you got back and you both walked down the hallway to your rooms, stopping outside to say goodnight. 

“Lame,” you scoffed, but he could tell by your face you loved it. “Night.” 

He leaned in for a kiss. It seemed like he was trying to keep it brief, nothing like last night or two nights before that, but no matter how hard he tried, it lingered. It was painful pulling apart and walking into your bedroom. You knew he was trying to be chivalry, and patient, and whatever else, but there was an itch inside you that screamed to be relieved. 

You pressed the back of your head up against the door, closing your eyes and taking a few breaths. Praying the desire you felt would ebb away. You heard movement from the other side. 

“Slow, we should take this slow.” Hoseok almost whined from outside.  

You opened your eyes immediately and flung the door open. You were on him in an instant, kissing him eagerly. Thankful your rooms were the other side of the loft from Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s. There would he no explaining this, and you didn’t want to share this with anyone else yet. Not to be careful, not just in case, like you’d originally thought, but because you were selfish. You wanted Hoseok for yourself. 

“I really want you. Like so bad,” you panted, hands all over his body. You wanted him out of his shirt. Out of his pants. Thoughts and images jumped into your mind. You were a woman possessed. “I’ve waited too long already. Please.” 

“Don’t beg like that.” His voice was so low, maybe even a growl, and it did things to you. 

You didn’t want to take this slow. Everything was already perfect. No matter what had happened to get here, it was all perfect now. 

You couldn’t wait a moment longer. You needed to be with him. 

“Pleaseee,” you said purposefully. 

He growled this time. For real. “I said don’t–ah, fuck it!” You exclaimed out loud as he picked you up from the middle, legs dangling alongside his as he walked into your room. He let go and cupped your face tight. He was breathing heavily. “I really want this, I really like you. I’m sure of it. Now that this is finally happening. Now I finally had the guts to make a move. This is for real.” 

You blinked. “Forreal for real?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Never been more certain of anything in my entire life.” 

And then he was kissing you again. You never wanted it to stop. With shaky hands you took his and began to lead him backwards towards your bed…

*bonus* 

“Morning,” Hoseok smiled from above you. 

You’d only just woken up, eyes still blurry, but you rubbed them and rolled onto your back. “Good morning,” you smiled back. 

He rubbed his hand over your waist under the covers, now grinning like he couldn’t stop it. “We did that.” 

You were still naked. So was he. What a thought. “We really did that.” 

“Twice.” 

You hummed, reliving last nights antics. It was just so natural. The sex you mean. No awkwardness, no nerves. It was just…perfect. Giggling and messing around, just like you were as friends. Nothing had changed. Only now you were probably going to be bumping uglies on the regular… It was only right to make a new suggestion now. “Wanna make it a third?” 

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, dipping his head to kiss your neck. You let yourself sink, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment until you remembered something. 

“Wait, wait—!” Your eyes flew open. “What’s the time?” 

Hoseok stopped and looked back, craning his neck to catch the time on your alarm clock. “Twenty past 7.” 

You groaned. “I have a class in 2 hours.” 

“Uhh,” he started awkwardly, pecking your lips. “This is new n’ all but I don’t want to get your hopes up so early into this. I will never be able to last two hours. You’ll be fine. You won’t miss class,” he chuckled. 

“Shut up,” you groaned, kissing him just to roll him on his back. The thought of leaving this bed today was depressing. “I’m just going to call in sick anyway.” You told him, pulling away.

He stroked his fingers through your hair, smirking. “Oh, a bad girl, huh?” 

You narrowed your eyes. If he wanted you to be bad, you could be bad. “Get a condom, Jung.” 

[theowlspeaks]

I know I shouldn’t be surprised but…the smut week mods posted actual r*pe. Only one of them had the decency to tag it “consensual noncon”.

What the hell is wrong with this fandom. How can they look at that kind of content between a white-passing male and a BROWN FEMALE and say “yeah, that looks good!”. This this the shit that is driving POC from fandom, especially *this* fandom. That type of fic should’ve been left behind in the early days of 2005-2008, buried and forgotten (though they never should have been written in the first place).

I don’t know why anyone would want to write r*pe between a couple that are supposed to be in love, that these content creators supposedly love. This isn’t love. And idc what they call it (consensual noncon or dubious consent or what the fuck ever), it’s still disgusting. And no, I don’t consider that kink shaming or purity policing or whatever bullshit terminology they come up with to justify their disturbing behavior.

I’m at the point where I’m reluctant to read anything labeled “dom Zuko” or “dub-con” because it takes it so far out of the realm of what it’s meant to be. I love zutara and I’m grateful for the people who make loving, appropriate content between them, and for people like you who speak up against this stuff. It’s the only reason I’m still here. Not all hope is lost.

I saw, and you and many others have reached out. I'm so sorry we as a community have to worry about things like this again. We just went back on 15 years of progress.

Reading the fics is even worse. It's written in a way that makes it complete r*pe, with a few tags forced in to show it's "technically consensual" and the acts themselves are extremely violent, degrading, and wholly disrespectful to both characters. They made the conscious choice as mods of a ROMANTIC EVENT to platform and promote it. They wrote violent r*pe and tried to dress it up in different clothes which only makes it even more insensitive and disgusting.

Don't let anyone use the kinkshame excuse when you try to talk about racism. I'm sick of it. You aren't being censored. Your racism is being criticized and pointed out. Content that actively harms people has no place especially not when we're trying to celebrate two people that love each other. I have trouble with any "dub con" lately too because almost all dub con I see is mislabelled (should just be labelled r*pe). This goes to show you how harmful this type of content is. We're at the point where people think r*pe with "implied" consent counts as dub con if the victim enjoyed it or the perp felt bad. Think about how sick that is. By these people's definition marital r*pe is dub con. They are actively harming people's perception of sex and consent.

(also I'd like to say I'm not super comfortable with calling Zuko white passing. He's East Asian but I completely agree with your point that the fact he's a light skin character and holds a position of institutional power over Katara (especially in book 1 scenarios where he's actively aiding a genocidal empire and taking her prisoner) gives a distinct racial element to the abuse and r*pe that is an obvious racial fetish.)

[amandaoftherosemire]

The Perfect Fit

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff

Author: @amandaoftherosemire​

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,062

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, mild angst, fluff, implied smut, oh so much fluff, adult and light sexual situations.

Summary: Steve Rogers always seems to be wearing shirts that are way too tight for your peace of mind. One day you get the whole story.

A/N: The meta regarding Steve’s smedium shirts inspired this light little one-shot. I had the time to finish one thing this week and wanted to show Steve some love since it’s been awhile. I’m in a mood to smother him in fluff, so here we go.

 The Perfect Fit

You came skidding to a halt in the communal kitchen, a sweaty t-shirt in your hand, and a hooting crow on your lips. "I knew it! I knew it!"

Surprisingly, several members of the team were still there. Bucky and Sam were plowing through a massive pile of eggs and bacon while Natasha and Wanda delicately spooned up the oatmeal and berries porridge Vision had made with Wanda's supervision. Delighted to have such an audience, you held up your prize.

"Size small! He wears size fucking small t-shirts!" You were shaking the t-shirt in your fist, your voice strident with mock insult but wobbling with repressed laughter. "I fucking told you guys!"

Natasha stood up. "Let me see." She held her hand out for the shirt, then, sneering at the sweat, took it between the fingernails of her thumb and forefinger. Looking at the label printed on the inside of the shirt, she raised a brow. "Nonsense," she scoffed. She had been sure he wore at least a medium. Her eyes met yours, and the amused exasperation there matched how you felt exactly. Medium could be explained.

Small was simply gratuitous.

"Doll," Bucky started as Natasha delicately handed the shirt back to you and returned to her oatmeal, "so he wears small shirts. What's your point?"

"Yeah, doll," said an unamused voice behind you, "what is your point?"

On the premise that a good defense is a good offense, you spun around to shake the shirt in Steve's face. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face, evidence he'd hopped out of the shower to chase you down when you stole the t-shirt from the locker room after his morning workout.

Unfortunately for you, he was also wearing nothing but the gray sweats he’d hurriedly tugged on, leaving you even more distracted by Steve's chest than usual. Normally you at least had a size small t-shirt between your eyes and all… that… muscle. Your fingertips itched to touch, which is why size small offended you so much.

The least he could do is not be so fucking tempting all the damn time.

“Size small, my ass! You’re the size of a semi-truck!” You went on the attack, trying to make it about the fact that he wore ridiculously small shirts considering his size. Hell, it was like he picked everything he wore based on how much his chest stretched the fabric.

You shot Bucky a vicious look when he called out, "Yeah, but why do you care?"

"I'm not saying I do," you retorted haughtily. "I just wanted to prove that Cap wears a size small even though that's insane. Why he does so is up for debate."

"So, what's your theory, beautiful?" Sam asked, a smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up in pure merriment. He was hopeful that if he and Bucky pushed you in the right way you'd finally give up and admit to Steve you had a thing for him. If you did that, maybe they could push Steve into admitting he had an almost painful crush on you. And then maybe the rest of them could stop walking through the mutual pining clouds.

You scanned Steve's chest, trying and failing to keep your gaze from heating. Even Steve couldn't miss the pure sexual appreciation that raked his body along with your eyes. His heart picked up at the thought that maybe you were more receptive than he'd thought.

You'd always been playful, but carefully detached. You were never unfriendly, but you always remained carefully separate. He was beginning to wonder, based on the speed of your heart as your eyes roved over his chest, if your aloof demeanor hid a secret.

"I think he's showing off," you laughed. You winked and tossed the shirt back to him. "And who can blame him?"

The last thing you saw before you sauntered out, figuring there was no way you were going to get a better exit line, was Steve's blushingly pleased smile.

Much, much later, well into the evening, you sat reading in the library. The stereo was on low, as were the lights but for the reading lamp over your shoulder. You were staring at the page, but you weren't really seeing it, too focused on the memory of Steve's smile that morning. Could he see that it was more than just harmless flirting? Could he tell that it was more for you? If he could, did he like it?

Should you ask? Or leave it be? If Steve was interested, he was more than capable of making a move. You’d always kept a deliberate platonic barrier between yourself and your colleagues, however, wary of mixing the personal and professional. Should you make it clear you’d be receptive? Were you receptive? Were you making an exception in this case? It was Steve, after all. Sweet, kind, amazing Steve. Wouldn’t anyone make an exception for him?

The sound of the door opening and closing as someone came into the room had goosebumps inexplicably running over your skin. You scolded yourself that it could be anyone, that just because your unruly heart was jumping up and down didn't mean Steve had come in. Even if it was Steve, that didn’t mean he was looking for you.

"There you are." Steve's voice, warm and friendly, had you melting like chocolate on the tongue. He sounded happy to see you and had you beaming a welcoming smile back as you looked up from your book.

"Here I am," you flirted, your smile taking on a hint of the coquette as he came further into the room. Fuck it; you were making an exception.

His cheeks went pink. It was the cutest fucking thing you'd ever seen. Big frat-bro looking men like this shouldn't be so bashful and blushy. It wasn't fucking fair. "Is it okay if I join you?" he asked gently, as though there was a universe in which you were capable of saying no.

"Of course," you said incredulously, grinning at him. Still pink and smiling, he settled onto the couch next to you.

"I wanted to tell you the real reason I have so many small shirts."

You felt a rush of chagrin at the thought that you might have hurt his feelings. You’d been teasing, flirting, and hated the idea that you may have inadvertently caused pain. Without thinking, you reached out to touch his knee with an apologetic smile.

“I’m so sorry if you thought I was complaining.” You chuckled a little and opted to flirt more overtly than was your usual so he’d could see you’d meant the whole thing as a joke. “‘Have you seen how good I look in size small t-shirts?' is more than enough reason for me, Steve.”

Steve looked down at your hand on his knee; the warmth seeming to seep into his skin. He practically lived for the accidental brush of your skin against his; your deliberate touch made his heart race. Which is why, when your gaze followed his and you started to pull away, he couldn’t stop his own hand from coming up to cover yours and stop your retreat.

Your breath caught and your eyes lifted to his adorably pink face. He looked both embarrassed and terrified as he smiled, a little weakly, at you. Your heart pounding like a drum, you threw caution to the winds and smiled fully at him as you turned your hand in his until you were palm to palm with him.

The smile that lit up his face in response nearly blinded you. "Still," he said, his face turning shy as he looked down at his hand closing gently around yours, "it's because I'm terrified of department stores."

You frowned a little in confusion. “Why?” You ducked your head a little to try and catch his eye.

Steve couldn’t resist the sweet expression on your face, couldn’t help but smile shyly into your eyes when you squeezed his hand gently.

“They're so complicated,” he confessed, a little ashamed. You could hear the genuine anxiety in his voice and you almost sighed as you melted. “There’s so much stuff and a lot of it doesn't make sense.”

Steve kept going, not noticing that the pink staining his perfect cheeks, the shy, sweet curve to his lips, the bashful, embarrassed dip to his eyelids was absolutely destroying you. Now that he was telling someone, he couldn’t stop, the words tumbling out.

“I just grab whatever looks closest to what I need and escape.” He shrugged, a lost look in his eyes as he imagined it. "I grab small because for a lot of my life, even the smallest stuff was too big. I'm in panic mode, so I don't think, I just grab and go."

"Oh my god," you muttered, practically losing your mind at how unbelievably fucking cute he was. You could barely resist Steve as it was; this sweet, lost softness was demolishing what little resistance you still possessed. It was taking everything you had to not crawl into his lap. "How are you this…" You trailed off, not able to articulate how much you adored him in this moment.

Steve thought for a moment that you were disgusted with him and the sick feeling that caused in his stomach only intensified when you pulled your hand out from under his. He existed in an endless moment of torment until your hands came up to cup his face. His eyes lifted and caught yours and in the next moment he was drowning in the affection he found there.

"…perfect." Your voice was breath of devotion. Something about his vulnerability made you feel like you could be vulnerable back and you heard yourself saying, your voice an ache of sound, "Steve, is it okay if I kiss you?"

Steve couldn’t understand, lost and confused by your sudden overt adoration. "Why?"

Your eyebrows lifted both at the question and at the look of surprise on Steve's face. Apparently, you weren't the only one not thinking before you spoke this evening. It gave you even more courage. "Because I've wanted to almost since I met you and I can't keep my mouth shut about it anymore."

The next moment Steve’s lips were on yours and you were sighing giddily into his mouth as your arms slid gently around his neck and his came around your waist. He had you folded close almost immediately, delighted with both your answer and the feel of your body against his. Your last resistance had crumbled, and you'd slid into his lap as you'd pulled yourself close to him.

"Y/n," he chuckled gently when you pulled your lips from his to brush them all over his sweet face, "I would love for you to kiss me."

You heard yourself giggle and if his smile had been less cheerful, you would have been embarrassed to hear yourself make such a noise. Steve looked overjoyed, however, at being the inspiration for such a happy sound bubbling out of you and you couldn't resent or regret it.

You also couldn't resist his eyes when the sadness lifted, when he was looking at you with the lightness of the young man he was never allowed to be. You'd had a girly crush on him for what felt like forever, and the sight of his happiness, because of you, left you reeling. You decided not to question your good fortune, opting instead to take him at his word. Your lips met his and you sank into his kiss with a hum.

Steve couldn't have been happier with the direction this conversation had gone. He’d meant merely to take an opportunity to talk to you, put your relationship on a more friendly footing by sharing a part of himself with you. He'd never expected to reap this kind of reward.

Your world narrowed to Steve, and in his solid yet gentle arms you found a soft and generous place where nothing existed but the two of you. His lips tenderly coaxed yours apart until his tongue was sweeping in and you were tasting the honey sweetness and cinnamon spice of his mouth. Soft plump lips gave enough to leave you obsessed almost immediately. If you’d known kissing Steve would be like this, you’d never have waited this long.

Sweetness held sway as your lips and tongues tangled together. Almost innocently, his hands moved from your back, one down to your hip to squeeze tight and pull you close, the other up to cup to the back of your neck.

Your arms were tight around his neck, your hands buried in thick blond hair. For a long, beautiful moment you simply caressed his lips with your own, tasting his mouth, breathing his breath, bright and joyous.

All too soon, your hands started to clench with heat rather than only warmth, his soft hair tempting you to use it for leverage to tilt his head for a deeper, hotter angle. His hand at your hip was gripping and releasing as he pulled you closer to his chest. His arms tightened as innocent affection heated until he was hard as iron beneath you.

You pulled back to look at Steve and the expression there took your breath away. Flushed and pretty, his lips were swollen from yours and parted to let gasps of excitement escape. His bright blue eyes were shining with both desire and affection and had you feeling like you were falling in to drown. You nuzzled your mouth and nose against his as you shifted and breathed, “Steve?”

“Yeah?” he breathed back, his eyes fluttering at the feel of your ass rubbing against his erection as you shifted in his lap. You couldn't help yourself; you found him both sweet as sugar and so sexy you were having to stop yourself from ripping his too tight shirt off.

"Should I ever" --you stopped to brush your lips over his pretty pink cheek-- "suspect that" --you kissed his other cheek-- "you are wearing" --his left eyelid-- "any size shirt” --his right eyelid-- "other than small" --the right corner of his mouth-- "I will sneak into your room" --the left corner of his mouth-- "remove the offending garment…"

Now that you were at his mouth, you couldn't resist it and you trailed off to sink in again with another hum of enjoyment. After another long, even more heated kiss that had you wondering how he'd respond if you invited him back to your rooms, you broke the kiss gently to finish in a whisper against his lips, "…and replace it with one of the proper size. Clear?"

Steve's smile spread, slow and wickedly sexy. "Yes, ma'am." He took your lower lip between his teeth and purred in his throat. You were astonished to find you could actually feel yourself clench in excitement at the sound. "You don't need to sneak, though," he murmured against your mouth, his voice both an ache and a temptation. "You're always welcome."

Steve was nearly blinded by your smile, and his mind nearly blanked by the slow roll of your hips, when you replied, breathless, “Is tonight too soon?”

Steve could barely believe that his inability to shop could lead to this. He'd been pining away for you, certain he'd only make you uncomfortable should he confess his feelings. To hear you offer him all he'd wanted, just that simple, made his heart race.

“I don’t know,” he replied, and the dimming of your smile had him kissing you quickly and grinning into your face to show you he was teasing. “If I say yes, you’ll discover my secret right away.”

Now that you knew he was flirting rather than rejecting, you teased back, your fingers combing through his hair, fingernails dragging gently over his scalp. “I love secrets,” you breathed into his ear. “Do tell.”

Steve’s eyes were rolling back in his head as his hand slid up and down the outside of your thigh, the heat of his palm seeping easily through the denim into your skin, setting it aflame. He adored the tingling pleasure of your hands in his hair, the shivers from your breath on his skin.

“I have plenty of shirts that fit,” he confessed, his voice low and tight with lust. You were rocking your body seductively against him as your grin spread. “Thanks to Nat, because I really am hopeless in department stores.” You narrowed your eyes in amused suspicion when he shrugged sheepishly. “I only wear the small stuff around you.”

You sat back, a little surprised, but utterly charmed, both by the confession and the sweet pink all over his face as he made it. “You wanna wear me?” The words were out of your mouth before you could think better of it, though when you could you wanted to take back the crude phrasing rather than the sentiment.

Not that it mattered when Steve’s arms were sliding under you as his jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek jumping and inexplicably making your underwear wet. He stood in a burst of motion, carrying you quickly toward the door.

“Your bed or mine?” he growled, and the relief had you fastening your mouth at his neck to taste the salt of his skin. Your arms were tight around his shoulders, one hand in his hair, the other with your fingertips caressing the soft skin in the hollow of his throat.

You answered against his skin, your voice a rasping ache, “Against the wall for all I care." Steve shuddered and burst into the next thing to a run when your voice breathed the words he’d never thought to hear but ached for, nonetheless. “Steve,” you whispered, “I just want you.”

Now that he was hearing them, nothing could stand in his way.

A gloriously long time later, Steve lay on his back in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a decidedly smug grin on his face. His big warm palm was smoothing up and down your spine and if you were still solid, it’d be melting you. As it was, his lovemaking had left you boneless and satisfied. You were cheerfully draped across the bare chest that had so obsessed you.

You lifted your head to smile into Steve’s pretty face. “Perfect fit.”

The End

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[multifandom-girlie]

𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐫

Imagine: You have a secret admirer and your very shocked by who it is.

Pairings: Human!Enzo x Human!reader Human!Kol x Human!reader Human!Klaus x Human!Caroline Human!Hayleyx Human!Elijah Human!Rebekah x Matt Human!Stefan x Human!Elena 

Warnings: implied smut, boner, Kol being jealous, perverts(it just came up ok, please no hate. It’s not as bad as it sounds.)

I’ve just got out of the shower and I’m starting to get ready for school. I read a text from the groupchat I have with my bestfriends Caroline, Rebekah, Bonnie, Elena and Hayley. 

Hayles💕: Guys it’s Valentines day !

Carebear🐻: I know I can’t wait to see Klaus😁!

Lena💖: I can’t wait to see Stefan either !

BonBon🍬: Me and Jeremy haven’t sorted things out...so i’m not so excited this year girls.

Bekah💞: I am excited to see Matt but Y/N what about you ? This is the second year you’ve been single on Valentines xx

Hayles💕: Oh yeah. I didn’t mean to be insensitive Y/N❤.

It’s ok girlies😂i’m fine. Yes I may be single but that is Kol’s fault and he’s missing out on all this, plus how many cards do I get ?

Hayles💕: She’s right guys she does get the most guys hitting on her. Mikaelson boys are idiots Y/N, Kol is missing out.

Hayles your dating a Mikaelson boy or did you forget about Elijah😂?

Hayles💕:I forgot he was a Mikaelson he doesn’t act like one. Just Kol then cause Klaus isn’t that bad either, i’ve never met finn and Henrik is too young.

Carebear🐻: Klaus is dreamy😍.

Bekah💞: Finn’s married and doesn’t really contact any of us except my sister and my parents, and Care please don’t be like that in front of me please🙏.

Lena💖: Anyway moving on. Everyone dress in pink or red, cause I have a really cute outfit picked out look.

Okay nobody else show their outfit wait till we get to school.

I picked out my outfit. I then got in my car and drove to school. When I arrived I got stared at, this started happening since after I broke up with Kol. I have no idea why sometimes it was nice to feel noticed. I saw the girls and ran over to them, we looked hot there was no denying that. 

We walked to first period and as usual we got handed all Valentines cards that were for us. What the school did is a week prior to Valentines day everyone puts cards in a big mailbox in the cafeteria for people as secret admirers and you get given them on Valentines day. Your not allowed to put them in the box on the day though, or actually you can but they will get thrown away because they empty the box the night before.

This year I got alot more than I was expecting. Usually I know who it is straight away. This year there���s Rebekah(bestfriend), Elijah(promised to always send me one, because ‘I always deserve one’.), Tyler(a fling), Damon(boy bestfriend, always sends me one), Matt(sends our whole girl group one each every year cause he’s sweet), Mr Williams(Mr pervert), the janitor(saw me naked in the changing room once, since then he’s trying to convince me to sleep with him), Stevan(sweet guy I kissed in middle school), Klaus(my first time, he’s always had a thing for me),Stefan(pity’s the fact i’m friends with Damon, also to be nice),Ollie(first boyfriend), Kai(my first kiss),Kol(yes we aren’t together anymore but we ended things on good-ish terms) and one extra and I have no clue who sent it which is off all is says is,

I have had my eye on you for a while, I can’t stop thinking about you gorgeous. 

Your secret admirer xox

The first periods flew by as usual and we were having our break already. I was doing the usual rounds today at break. Giving Rebekah a hug, texting Elijah thankyou, telling Tyler I said thanks with a kiss on the cheek and a cheeky wink, doing a run and then hug with Damon when he gets out of the girls toilets to have his ‘Valentines day fling’, giving Matt a kiss on the cheek, telling Mr Williams to stop being a pervet or threating to get him fired, telling the janitor very kindly to back off and then punching him when he says no, giving Stevan, Ollie and Kai a kiss on the cheek, telling Klaus that he’s needs to stop when the girls aren’t with me because he has a good girl and he doesn’t need to mess it up, Stefan I give a hug cause Elena doesn’t like it when I kiss his cheek cause she’s worried he might care for me to much, When I found Kol I madeout with him and I know I shouldn’t but it’s hard and then I didn’t have enough time to find out my actual secret admirer. 

I was kind of shocked when I realised that 2 periods had gone by already and as I was walking to the Cafeteria to eat my lunch, I got winked at. By Enzo St John, holy jesus. This officially just turned into the best day of my life, every girl in school has had or has a crush on him. You are incredibly lucky if he likes you back or even acknowledges you in the slightest, I call that a win. It’s weird that none of me or the girls have ever spoken to him he’s in a friendship group with Klaus, Damon, Kol and Tyler. 

We sat down in the cafeteria and the boys joined us as usual except obviously Enzo. From the minute I sat down I could tell the boys were all pissed at me and I had no idea why. Klaus was scowling, Damon looked pissed at me, Kol had a knife in his hand looking like he was about to murder someone and Tyler was probably the calmest out of them. The one thing they all had in common though was that they were staring at me.

“Guys why do you all look extremely pissed at me ?”

Kol stood up, grabbed my arm and walked me out into the janitors closet.

“How long have you had a thing with Enzo ?”

I looked at him weirdly.

“What are you talking about ? I don’t have a thing with him, i’ve never even spoke to him. Why would it matter if I did anyway ?”

“Stop lying ! It matters cause he’s my bestfriend Y/N.”

“We broke up Kol that means I can do whatever, whenever with whoever. You clearly don’t understand that.”

Then I saw the janitor and I rolled my eyes when he spoke.

“You broke up can I have a spin now.”

I scoffed in disgust.

“Go away Phil, I will not sleep with you.”

I then stormed out the closet to get away from Kol but he was following me back to the cafeteria.

“So that kiss the morning meant nothing?”

“Kol what do you want me to say that it did ? Cause I can’t do that. Your the one that broke up with me, I accepted that and I moved on which is what you should’ve done aswell, clearly your not very good at that. I don’t know what that what was this morning, but we are done ! I don’t want to hear the excuses or the lies. We are done ! That means no more random make outs or one nighters, no more texting me late at night when you feel lonely or coming to my house whenever you want acting like we never broke up! It was your choice! We aren’t together anymore! So get that through your head and stop trying to control me !”

For a second I felt relieved that I put Kol in his place but then I realised where I was. Smack bang in the middle of the cafeteria, with everyone silent and staring at me with their mouths gaping. I quickly walked out the cafeteria with tears streaming down my face when I got pulled in the janitors closet.

“I swear to god Phil...I WILL NOT SLEEP WITH YOU!”

“Who’s Phil ?”

I widened my eyes and wiped my tears, I knew exactly who it was. I turned around slowly and looked at him.

“Enzo ? I uh I thought your were Phil-uh the janitor.”

“He’s been asking you to sleep with him ?”

“He saw me naked in the changing rooms once and now he keeps trying to convince me to sleep with him.”

“Right. Anyway did you figure out who sent you that random card ?”

“No I di-wait how do you ? How do you kno-oh sweet jesus. It was you ?”

He laughed at me and nodded.

“Why would you-is that why Kol is pissed?”

“I don’t know why Kol’s pissed. Maybe it’s because he found out his ex girl likes his bestfriend and then got even more pissed when he found out his bestfriends likes her back.”

“Oh right okay.”

I was about to leave again when I widened my eyes. He just said he likes me. he likes me. Enzo St John like ME! Holy Jesus this is...woah.

“You like me ? You must be cr-”

He cut me off by kissing me. Of course I kissed back. He’s such a good kisser. 

“Yes I might be crazy. But I have liked you for a while. So how about a movie tonight Y/N ?”

I blushed like crazy and nodded. I couldn’t help but kiss him again this time longer and more passionately.

6 Months later....

I walked into school, except this time not alone. I was walking side by side with Enzo holding my hand. I talked to Kol he eventually gave up fighting with me and gifted us his blessing. The girls had finally talked to him and I couldn’t have felt better.

“Okay well we all have Gym let’s go.”

“Yes !”

I looked at Enzo and saw how excited he is ang giggled. 

“Stop getting so over excited about Gym, people will think you like school.”

“I don’t like school. But I like Gym not just because I’m good at it but I get to see you in your little gym shorts and it excites me.”

I giggled and kissed him and as I pulled away I bit his lip. I knew it would drive him crazy it always does, especially before Gym. I looked down and brushed my hand against ‘him’. 

“Yeah I can see that.”

He had a boner but he didn’t hid like most would he wore it proudly, which makes us all laugh.

“I’ll get you back for this Y/L/N!”

“I hope you do.”

I winked at him and went to the girls changing rooms.

[captain-mcdavid]

word count: 2.9k

smut: yes | no

warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of mental illness

“Baby, c’mon!” He yells, and you roll your eyes, pulling the popcorn out of the microwave, yelling back at him while you fling the bag onto the counter so you don’t burn yourself.

“Just a minute!” It comes out harsh, and you shake your head, muttering to yourself afterwards. God he was impatient.

Then there’s a knock on the door, and with an annoyed groan you begin to turn, but only until you hear him call out, “I’ll get it!”

Well at least he’s good for something.

He saunters through your apartment and out of sight to the door like he owns the place, and it annoys you. Just like almost every other thing that he does.

You really shouldn’t have let him back into your life. He cheated, which is reason enough, but he’s also just an asshole.

But here you are, recycling.

You can hear hushed voices from the entry way, but you don’t bother to leave the kitchen to see who it is, cause if you do he’ll just complain about the popcorn not being ready again.

The door shuts and then he walks stiffly past the kitchen, and you call out, “Who was it?”

“Just uh,” He starts, and doesn’t finish, making you furrow your brows, “Just the neighbour. Wanted to let you know he’d be gone again.”

You think about Mr Danby and for the first time since he got here, you actually genuinely smile. The sweet old man next door went was a frequent flyer and usually came to tell you when he left, quote, “Just so you don’t think I died,”

You take the popcorn out with a small laugh, “He must have a good pension. He goes on a lot of trips.”

When you look up at him he looks tense, shoulders and jaw squared in an angry set, it reminds you so much of someone else, and then you’re floating towards him with a cautious gaze.

“Josh?” You say, and he looks over at you.

“What?” His voice is harsh and your mood instantly declines. Not this again.

��What’s the matter?” You ask, and he laughs. Here we go.

“You know what.” He spits back, and you stand up straighter, preparing for the fight.

“Why do we keep coming back to this?” You say, and you can hear the deflation in your own voice.

“How can we not?” He growls.

“We can move on!” You cry back. “I’m trying, but you do this every fucking night!”

“That’s rich!” Josh says with a laugh, “You haven’t moved on, you’re still just as pissed as I am!”

“Maybe I am!” You shout, “But I have a right to be, you cheated on me, and then you left for months. Of course I’m mad!”

“You say this like you think I don’t have reasons to be upset.” He argues.

“Don’t put words in my mouth, I never said that,” You state calmly, holding up a hand.

“But you imply it all the time! And it makes me feel like an asshole. I get it, I fucked up. But you sulking around here like I killed your fucking family makes it really hard to get past this whole thing.”

“I don’t sulk-,” You start, but he cuts you off.

“You’re miserable all the time, and don’t try to tell me you’re not. I can’t even make you smile anymore.”

“That’s not true.” You try to insist but he’s dismissing you quickly.

“I’m sorry.” He starts, holding out his hands. “I’ve said it a thousand times and I’ll say it again. But I’m done feeling like shit for this, because it wasn’t just me that screwed up.

“You should feel like shit!” You rasp, tears stinging your eyes. “What you did was horrible.”

“So was what you did.” He interjects.

You sigh feebly, shaking your head while you hold the popcorn bowl tighter. “I don’t want to fight Josh.”

“Yeah you do.” He says, and you furrow your brows.

“Huh?” You say, but you know what his answer is going to be. You’ve done this before.

“You do wanna fight with me, cause it means that you’ll still see me. You’d rather play out this scenario in your head, where we scream ourselves voiceless, because you don’t wanna deal with the fact that you actually lost me.”

And then you’re snapping back to reality, and the person sitting in front of you isn’t Josh, it’s your ex, Blake.

“Jesus, you zoned out there.” He says, still sitting rigidly on the ouch, and you stand there clueless. “What are you waiting for? Come here.” He says, and it’s meant to sound funny, but it just sounds rude.

“Who was at the door?” You ask dumbly, taking a seat on the couch.

“I told you already, neighbour.” He grunts, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

“Right,” You whisper, leaning back into the cushions. “Sorry.”

He winds a stiff arm around you, and you look up at his tense jaw line. “Are you okay?” You ask curiously, “You seem kinda off.”

“Says you,” He fires back. “I’m fine.”

“So am I,” You defend. “You were good like five minutes ago, what happened?”

“Nothing!” He insists harshly. “That old guy just gives me the creeps. He’s like, praying on you or something.”

You scoff, scooting away from him. “Don’t say that about him. He’s the sweetest old man. He’s never been anything but polite.”

“Whatever,” Blake waves you off, “Now are we gonna watch this? Or are you gonna keep talking?”

You don’t answer, you just move further away while you direct your eyes to the screen.

You watch without paying attention, your thoughts miles away from your body.

It’s been this way for the last four months. You’ll see Blake out of the corner of your eye, or when you walk into a room, and his tall build and brown curly hair fool you into thinking he’s someone else.

It’s insane really, and you probably should see someone about it, but in your mind, Josh is right. Actually dealing with what happened seems far too hard, so you’ll just imagine that nothing actually ended. The fights are painful, but much less painful than just getting over it.

Even just thinking about what you’re doing to yourself makes you feel insane, so much so you actually think you might be driving yourself crazy.

Between fake scenarios and all the time you’re spending with Blake, you rarely have clear thoughts.

Everything about Blake makes you so annoyed. Every time he speaks, his voice sounds wrong. And every time he touches you, his hands feel wrong. All of it is wrong because he’s not Josh. But you still keep him around, because even though he’s an asshole, spending time with him is better than spending it alone.

You’d initially reached out to Blake about two weeks after Josh had left, when the lonely nights became too much. You missed Josh’s body on top of your own, and you thought getting underneath someone else would mute that, but it only made it worse.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts again, when Blake shoves his hand in between your thighs, he looks at you expectingly and you’re about to stop him when he comes at you fast, pushing you down while he presses his lips to yours.

Every time he kisses you, you get more and more disgusted with yourself. Trying to pretend that he’s someone else is unfair, and even though he’s a complete dick he still doesn’t deserve to be played.

Although why should you have a problem with fucking with someone now? You obviously didn’t before.

With a grunt you push him off you, and he looks at you with a mix of curiosity and disgust, and in the moment you really just want him out of your apartment.

“I’m not in the mood tonight.” You tell him, standing up.

“Then what am I here for?” You hate that he actually has the audacity to ask that question. Who does he think he is?

“To hang out? God I don’t know. Don’t get so disappointed, you get laid like every other night.”

He shakes his head and stands, muttering something under his breath about putting out, and you have to hold back from punching him in the throat while he walks out of your apartment. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grunts, slamming the door on the way out.

About a minute later there’s another knock and you roll your eyes, stomping towards it, jeez, he can’t take no for an answer.

You swing the door open, ready to yell but when you see who’s behind it your breath catches in your throat.

Emma.

“Did I just see motherfucking Blake Wilson walking out of here?” She says the words while she saunters into your apartment and you don’t know if you should be happy or sad.

“Uh... yeah.” You say, kind of ashamed.

“Y/N, when you fell off the face of the earth I knew it was bad but I didn’t think it could be that bad.”

You shrug, and then she pulls you into a hug. It’s the first hug you’ve had since Josh that actually made you feel okay. You were comfortable in her arms, Blake was a different story.

“What happened? What’s going on with you?” She asks, leading you to the couch to sit down.

“Just having a rough couple months.” You answer.

“Lindsay told me she moved out, but she won’t say why... Does that have anything to do with it?”

Just the mention of her name makes you tense up, and you clench your jaw to keep from rambling swear words. You look up at Emma, studying her face for emotion. You honest to god have no idea if she knows what happened or not. She was always closer to Lindsay than you, what if she was the same kind of person as Lindsay? Cunning and manipulative.

She looks genuinely concerned, so you sigh before saying, “It’s got everything to do with it.”

“What happened with you two?” She asks quietly, voice dropping while her eyes spark with something you can’t quite put your finger on.

Your furrow your brows and then say, “She slept with Josh. While we were seeing each other.”

You’re surprised when she starts to laugh, you look at her like everyone else has been looking at you for the past months, has she lost it? That’s not a laughing matter.

“God. Some people really never change.” The words come out almost like a snarl, and your eyes widen when you realize that Lindsay was probably a repeat offender.

“Bitch stole my boyfriend in high school.” She explains, and then extends a hand to put on your knee. “I’m sorry, I know how you feel.”

“She’s psycho.” You say, and Emma laughs.

“You got that right. I don’t know how I stayed friends with her for so long. I actually thought maybe she had become a better person.”

You chuckle, and Emma shakes her head, in awe of the situation.

“I’m really sorry Y/N, I know you really liked Josh, are you okay?”

You pretend to shake it off, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “I wasn’t that invested, I’m go-“

“You don’t have to lie to me,” She interrupts and you bite your lips, embarrassed.

“It’s been hard.” You say quietly.

“Is that why Blake was here?” She’s not trying to sound judgey, but it still comes off a little so.

“I haven’t really had anyone to talk to, okay? I know he’s not the best person for that, but he’s someone.” You defend, and she’s quick to stop you.

“Okay well you have me now. So you can stop clowning around with him. He’s a loser.” She states, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

She reaches out to wind an arm around you, and you lean into her. “I’m sorry you were alone for this long.”

The next month is better. The fights with Josh have stopped, but not the nights with Blake.

They should stop, and they are less frequent, but you still find yourself opening the door for him at eleven o’clock at night, and he follows you down to your bedroom and then leaves in the morning.

You really don’t know why you keep him around, Emma questions you all the time, but for now, seeing him less seems like an accomplishment so you’ll take the wins one at a time.

“Okay, I don’t understand why you always drive to this one. There’s one way closer to your house.” Emma chirps, getting out of your car.

“This one has better produce.” You lie, and Emma rolls her eyes. You’re definitely not gonna tell her that you come to this one because it’s closest to Josh’s. You’re also not gonna tell her that you go to the gym closest to his house, and the Starbucks, and his favourite Thai place. The last month you’ve been praying for a run in, but nothing has happened.

“We’re not getting produce. We’re getting Ben and Jerrys.” She reiterates, but follows you into the Safeway none the less.

You look up and down the isles long after you’ve found your ice cream, and Emma stalks behind, mumbling about being hungry. You leave the store disappointed again, but she doesn’t take notice, talking away for the ride home.

You get home and start the princess diaries, you’re deep into your pint of cookie dough ice cream when your phone buzzes beside you.

You still get really excited whenever you receive a notification, and you still feel really let down when it’s not who you want it to be.

Which is the case tonight. Emma looks down at the screen too, on reflex and when you pick it up you see her sit up in her seat.

You read the message from Blake, waiting for her to say something.

“Okay I’m sorry,” She starts, and you strap in. “But I can’t watch you do this to yourself any longer.”

You hope she can’t see the way you roll your eyes, you’ve heard this lecture numerous times, and it’s not helping so you don’t know why she bothers.

“Don’t you see what you’re doing here?” She asks, and because you’re actually kind of curious about the answer you shrug. “He’s the rebound that never ends. I let it happen when I thought you needed to get over Josh, but this has gone on long enough. You’re using him and you know it.”

“I’m not-,” You start to say, but then she gives you a look, and you stop.

“You’re doing to him what everyone else has done to you, and I know that he’s a jerk, believe me, I know that, but he still doesn’t deserve to been on the back burner.”

“It’s not like either of us want a relationship!” You say back, getting defensive.

“Do you know who would say that?” She asks, and you raise a brow.

“Josh. To one of his friends when they roast him for doing this to you.”

“Em,” You start, but she just keeps talking.

“You’re being naive-,”

The word nearly drags you over hot coals, and you don’t hear anything she says after it, that one word stuck in your head. It’s like she sees the change in persona immediately, and then stops talking.

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping.” She whispers, “I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“Yeah, that’s what Lindsay said.”

The words fall out of your mouth and you see Emma’s shoulders slump. That was something you definitely shouldn’t have said.

“Okay, I think I’m gonna go. Give you some space for a little while.”

You don’t say anything, you just let her go, feeling like shit all around. Once she leaves you cry for a solid ten minutes, a frequent occurrence in the last four months, and then you pick yourself up and head out for some Thai food, which is also a frequent occurrence. The spice just seems to brighten your mood ironically enough. And so does the thought of maybe seeing Josh.

You listen to sad music on the drive over, spending way more time in the car than necessary. And when you pull up to the restaurant, your heart almost stops, cause there’s a car out from that looks just like Josh’s.

But still, you get out, and walk into the restaurant, trying not to get your hopes up. He’s probably not even here.

But once you enter you’re greeted by the amazing smell, and blue eyes and curly brown hair.

He turns when you walk in, and this time, your heart actually does stop.

You stare blankly at each other, and you’ve imagined this moment a thousand times but you never actually thought it would happen.

And now that it has, your stomach is on the floor and your heart feels fragile enough that it could break with a single beat.

You don’t know what you were thinking you’d feel, but it’s certainly not this. Cause all you see when you look at him, is cloudy vision from endless tears, Lindsay’s smug face, and that pink jacket.

You were sure you wanted this but now you’d give anything to take back the last thirty seconds. You’d never have walked in that door if you’d have known this is how you’d feel.

And then he says your name and his voice floats in your ears, only it’s not gentle, it’s harsh and loud and all you can hear is him yelling.

It’s only when he steps towards you that you have the mind to turn around, and run out the door.

[cake-writes]

Little Lies (Part Twelve)

Pairings: Steve x Reader // Bucky x Reader // Slight Natasha x Reader // Slight OC x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Implied Smut, WLW & Bisexuality, Dubious Consent, 18+

Summary: You went to Bucky when you wanted punishment. He’d be rough with you because he understood your self-loathing, and he’d leave bruises on your hips that wouldn’t go away for a week. You loved it. He didn’t.

You went to Steve when you wanted reassurance. You went to him because he liked to whisper sweet, sweet things into your ear as he made love to you. He’d tell you that you were perfect and amazing and beautiful. Then you’d get your fill, just far too much of it. He cared too much.

It all came to a head when the three of you went on a mission together. You’d done it a hundred times, even during this mess of a situation, and still neither of them was any the wiser. Your little lies always slipped right through the cracks - until one night, they didn’t.

Part Eleven / Master List

Tony definitely followed the limousine back here that night. Over the past three days, your hunch was only further confirmed when you caught glimpses of him in the sky every now and then. He was always way, way high up in the clouds, almost unnoticeable; in fact, you only noticed because you were purposely looking for him.

Now, he’d just flown by again. It was unfortunate that you hadn’t had a chance to call him out on it yet. You didn’t want him to get hurt.

Luckily, you finally had a minute to yourself, so you used it wisely.

Marisol was in her office down the hall, meeting with her first and second in command about an upcoming shipment. You recently snuck into that same office in the middle of the night and gathered as much intel about the shipment as you could – photos, mostly, but you had no secure way of sharing them and you didn’t have enough time to get into the finer details over comms.

That was the other reason why you put the device back into your ear. You knew it was suspicious that you’d taken out your earpiece that night, but you needed to keep it well-hidden for something like this. Because of your quick thinking, it hadn’t been confiscated like the rest of your electronics had been. Instead, Marisol had given you another phone – one that had her number pre-saved as Mi Corazón.

My Heart. That was what you used to call her once. Kind of ironic that you’d used that very same phone to steal some intel about her operation.

“If you think you’re being discreet, you’re not,” you commented dryly into the earpiece.

“Jesus, kid!” You could hear Tony’s relief plain as day. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you responded, letting your bedroom curtains fall back into place. As much as you would have liked to catch up, you couldn’t. “I don’t have much time. There’s going to be a shipment next week. Meet me at Coco Bongo on Friday - we’ll be there at 8.”

Friday was another three days from now, so hopefully you’d be able to unearth some more intel before then. You had plenty of information about this shipment, but you wanted more about the rest, about her entire operation.

“What the hell?” came Bucky’s question – almost too quiet to hear, probably muttered under his breath.

At the same time, Steve immediately jumped on another part of what you said, and his tone was anything but nice. “’We’? What do you mean ‘we’?”

He would have already known, but he wanted you to say it anyway.  

That was when Marisol’s office door creaked open again much sooner than expected, and even though you wanted to say something – anything – to fix this shitshow of a situation, you just didn’t have enough time. “Shit! Friday at 8. Don’t be late.”

“Roger,” Natasha said just as you ripped the device from your ear and shoved it back under your mattress, where you’d kept it hidden since you arrived. The moment you finished, Marisol was already walking into your bedroom, and you quickly started straightening your sheets to make it look like you’d just been tidying up your bed.

“Oh, kitten,” Marisol purred, pulling your hands into hers, away from the bedding. “Don’t waste your energy on this. I pay my employees well.”

You were well-aware that she had a full complement of staff to maintain the residence: a head chef and kitchen hands, maids and butlers, and a groundskeeper, not to mention all of the armed guards posted outside. They were also her eyes and ears, though, too, a fact you remembered from the last time you were here.

In response, you gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve just gotten so used to doing these things myself.”

“I know, but you don’t have to. Not anymore.” Her voice was kind, but the implied order wasn’t; she was telling you to stop doing things yourself and just let her take care of you like she used to. Then she pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, lacing her fingers with yours as the two of you made your way downstairs. “Lunch is waiting for us in the garden. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Nothing else compares to the weather here,” you admitted. “I’ve missed it.”  

That was the truth. Some part of you did miss it.

After a butler opened the French doors to the garden, you and Marisol walked outside hand-in-hand to bask in the warm sunlight. Spring and summer were typically quite hot, but today, the temperature was just right. When the balmy breeze blew through, the delicate fabric of your sundress brushed pleasantly against your thighs and a genuine smile came across your lips.

You had missed this. The weather. Not Marisol.

She smiled back at you and squeezed your hand.

That was a lie. Maybe you did miss her just a little.

The gazebo was surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, wafting a sweet aroma through the air and as you approached, the perfectly-manicured grass tickled your bare feet. 

It was familiar. It was lovely. It was home – or at least, it had been once.

That was when you got the feeling that you were being watched. You knew you were; your teammates were likely still in the area looking for a way to rescue you, but they wouldn’t find one. The fences were reinforced, and there were far too many armed guards posted everywhere, inside and outside the gates and on the roof – not to mention your life would be at risk if they even tried.

The two of you started on lunch: a lovely spread of cured meats and cheeses, finger sandwiches, and champagne. Marisol toasted your arrival – “To new beginnings,” she said, and you cheerfully clinked your glasses together. Her happiness was real. Yours wasn’t. 

While you easily held up your end of the conversation, your heart wasn’t in it. Of course it wasn’t. Steve and Bucky were clearly not happy about your choices, but you couldn’t blame them. You’d done so many terrible things, too many of which they’d seen let alone the history you had here in Cancun: a history with Marisol, and a home with her, too.

You couldn’t help but scan the tree line, looking for any sign that your boys were there, but they’d taken your feedback to heart. Now they were being so discreet that you couldn’t spot anyone.

When you first left Cancun, you didn’t know how to cook, clean, or do laundry – and now that you were back, those mundane things proved to be good distraction. The normally boring chores you’d otherwise be doing right now back at the compound helped you twofold: to get your mind off of things, and to play Marisol like a fiddle.

One evening, you spent a couple of hours over the stove, preparing a lovely dinner for her. You had nothing else to do, and you thought that it might be a good way to show her that you cared. In truth, however, it was just another way of manipulating her. Not that she noticed.

She’d been extremely busy and cooped up in her office, so you set the table, lit some candles, and laid out the three-course meal you made. It wasn’t anything special compared to what her chef could have done, but she swooned at the hard work you’d put into such a kind, loving gesture, and after dinner she drew a bath for the two of you.

She, of course, ensured that there was a large selection of scented bath oils and bubble bars on display just for you. Some small part of you was flattered that she still remembered your favourite scents, but you were disgusted with yourself because of it. Slowly but surely, she was creeping back into your heart, and you hated it – hated her just as much as you once loved her. 

Maybe in some warped way, you still did.

While you soaped up her back and shoulders, she aired some of her frustrations about the upcoming shipment. She didn’t say when or where it was, just that tensions were high between the buyer and herself and she might need to find a new one depending on how things went. It wouldn’t impact the shipment itself so much as where the product went after.

That, at least, was a relief. You didn’t want to show up with useless intel. 

Worse still, you found yourself seeking comfort in her arms and in her bed. You wanted to forget everything, but you knew you never would. She was toxic. Some of that toxicity had seeped into your bones and poisoned any other relationship you may have had. 

Marisol was unforgettable in the best of ways, and the worst.  

The next day, you went back outside to the garden. It was nice to see how much the plants had flourished in the five years you’d been gone. The trees were taller, the bushes were larger, and there were so many more colourful flowers than before. Your original plan was to pick some for a bouquet, but you wound up chatting and helping to plant some seedlings with the groundskeeper you’d met so long ago. 

When you got back inside a couple of hours later, Marisol took in your dishevelled appearance with pursed lips. The sweat and soil on your skin wasn’t exactly ideal, and unsurprisingly, you could read her like a book. She wasn’t happy. You were her porcelain doll, prim and perfect; her caged bird. 

Clearly she hadn’t remembered how headstrong you were. You didn’t take kindly to orders. Never had. Your gardening was an act of rebellion, and she knew it well. 

Before she could get too worked up about it, however, you offered her a coy smile and the colourful bouquet, which she begrudgingly accepted with a quick peck on your lips – but she was adamant that you not get your hands dirty again. The look in her eyes was dangerous and dark, meant to remind you of your place here. 

You knew how she was – how she’d always been. Controlling. Domineering. She didn’t want you to lift a finger. No, she wanted to take care of you. She wanted to give you everything, and you were happy with that once. Ecstatic, really, because the two of you used to have ‘holier than thou’ attitudes. Once upon a time, you’d seen yourselves as above that kind of work. Only in recent years had your opinion changed on the matter.

By doing those things yourself, it was a clear statement that you’d changed in the last five years. She still seemed to be in her own little bubble of delusions, like nothing had changed at all and you were both still madly in love. You weren’t, but you sure could act like it, so that was what you did.

It was a façade you knew entirely too well. What you despised most was that some small part of it was real. 

Coco Bongo was one of the busiest nightclubs in Cancun. Before you left, you conducted a lot of your business in the upstairs VIP area overseeing the dance floor. It seemed that things hadn’t changed much. The only difference was that Marisol had taken over in your stead.

This was her domain now. The VIP lounge was purposely not very well-lit in order to help conceal deals and identities – yours being one of them.

When you first arrived back at her estate, she asked you to come out with her tonight to see all the work she’d done over the last few years. You soon learned that she came here every Friday night, just like you did once. You only came along this time because it was a good spot for an in-person meet-up; you didn’t want to spend any more time with her than necessary. 

After you passed on the intel, you were going to drink so much that you forgot your own name. 

It was really doing a number on your psyche, playing along with her delusions. You were a great actress and an even greater liar, but you could only handle so much. She was insatiable to the point that you’d lied about having your period, and even that wasn’t enough for her. Your fingers and mouth worked just fine, she told you, so you used them as unwilling as you felt.

Despite your many talents, even you couldn’t get Marisol to take ‘no’ for an answer. Never could. Never would. And now, you were starting to break.

You were already a few drinks in, feeling loose but nervous. Her hand rested on your thigh as she organized deals and shipments right in front of you. There was no need to be discreet here, and for that, you were thankful; you were getting plenty of information to pass along.

“I’ll be back,” you whispered into her ear, before you pressed a quick kiss to her cheek. “Nature calls.”

At that, she smiled and smacked your ass when you stood. Maybe you would have winked at her once, but tonight, you were in no mood for it. Instead, you just offered her the ghost of a smile and half-stumbled your way down the stairs. Her laughter followed you until the bass took over.

Maybe you’d had a bit more to drink than you thought.

The music was much louder on the ground floor, booming in your ears as you tried to find a quieter, more secluded spot for a meet-up. What you wound up doing was actually going to the bathroom: the men’s near the east entrance. Unsurprisingly, it was empty. This entrance was still rarely used even after half a decade.

Shoving your comms into your ear, you reported your location under your breath. “Men’s room, east entrance.”

You expected Tony to be the one to respond, but it wasn’t. It was Steve. “Copy that.”

Hearing his voice only tied your stomach in knots. Your fingers drummed a anxious cadence next to the sink as you waited for him to come in. Of course it was Steve; he probably volunteered for this just so he could read you the riot act. Over the past few days, your troubled mind wound up overanalysing every single word he said to you over the past couple of weeks, and now you’d all but convinced yourself he hated you. 

Why wouldn’t he?  You were an awful person. You always had been.

The door was suddenly shoved open, then, and you jumped. Deafening music spilled into the small room before he shut and locked the door behind him. At first you didn’t recognize him, and you very nearly said that it was occupied – at least until you realized who it was.

Steve hadn’t relied on sunglasses and a baseball cap for his cover this time. Instead, he was wearing tight black t-shirt and jeans, along with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses and some week-old scruff. Probably hadn’t shaved since the gala.  

Natasha surely would have had some input considering you hadn’t even recognized him, but damn.

Both of you just stared at each other for a moment, with so many unspoken thoughts floating between the two of you but not a single one came to mind. All you could focus on was that the terrible fluorescent lighting brought out the blue in his eyes – eyes that trailed down your body, taking in every inch of shimmery exposed skin.

The short, tight dress you wore to the nightclub did nothing to hide your curves. Rather, it embraced them, and the glitter all over your body only added to the effect.

Steve used his tongue to wet his lips before he met your eyes again, but by that point your face was flushed. You blamed it on the alcohol.

Despite the butterflies in your stomach, which you also blamed on the alcohol, the way you greeted him was impersonal. “Rogers.”

It broke the spell.

“What do you have?” He nodded down to the phone in your hands, and his tone had a certain bite to it that made you wonder if he was accusing you of something, rather than just asking what intel you’d gathered. The offense must have shown on your face because he quickly rephrased, “What intel, Agent?”

He wouldn’t even say your name. That stung.

“Here.” You flipped to your new phone’s gallery and offered it to him so that he could take a few photos of the screen. Despite his unfamiliarity with technology, Steve would have known just as well as you did that you couldn’t just email them because they’d be tracked. As he took the photos, you explained further, “She’s got weekly shipments on Monday nights at the port. They land in the US every Wednesday. Still trying to figure out where.”

“We’re working on that,” Steve told you, continuing to flip through your gallery, taking notes every now and then until one photo in particular made him freeze.

You tilted your head. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he spat, shoving the phone back at you. “You tell me.”

It was a photo of you and Marisol laying in bed, naked, with just the sheets covering you both. You were fast asleep with your head on her shoulder, and she was taking the selfie, running her fingers through your hair as you slept. Sweet. Intimate. Fake.

Well, not to her, it wasn’t. It wasn’t fake to Steve, either.

“I was just playing along,” you explained as evenly as you could. Truth be told, you didn’t even know she’d taken the picture. That bothered you, but you wouldn’t let it show. “If I win her back, I can get us a ton of intel.”

“If you win her back— Christ, after all the shit you’ve pulled, you expect me to believe that?”

Here it was, the riot act you’d been waiting for. Even though you’d been expecting it, however, the shame you felt from his words made you look at the floor, chewing on your lower lip. You’d told him the truth, but he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. You lied to him for months, hurt him in so many ways that he couldn’t trust you anymore.

“Steve, she's nothing to me.”

Not like you. 

He let out a long sigh at that, one full of annoyance and irritation.

“Yeah. Alright.” He clearly didn’t believe you. “Thanks for this,” he added, waving his phone briefly before he pushed it into his back pocket. “We’ll work on it. You just keep doing what you do best, you know, being you.”

That stung, too. Being you was punishment enough.

When he went to leave, you reached out for him before it even fully registered in your brain. Instinctive, almost.

“Wait—”

His skin was always so hot to the touch, and the feeling of his callused hand in yours sparked all sorts of emotions: loneliness, longing, happiness – or at least the ghost of what could have been, once.

You missed him, but he wasn’t having any of it. You realized as much when he pulled his hand from your grasp and gave you a look in warning.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, holding your hands up in front of you in surrender, doing your best to keep your tears at bay. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough to ugly cry yet, but it was definitely coming if the way your voice wavered was any indication. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

“Jesus, doll,” he said, exasperated, muting his comms before he reached over to mute yours, too. This wasn’t a conversation either of you would have wanted the others to hear.

Steve’s fingertips accidentally brushed against your cheek as he pulled his hand away from your comms, and your heart stuttered within your chest. 

You missed him.

You missed him so fucking much. 

“I never meant to hurt you. I’m stupid and selfish and—” A sob escaped you, then, “and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so sorry.”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. You didn’t apologize. That wasn’t who you were. You’d hurt him – him and Bucky – and you’d never once apologized for it until tonight. Still, you meant every single word.

That was why it hurt so much when he bit out, “That’s low, even for you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise, eyes wide. He didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. He thought you were still trying to manipulate him.

Of course he did.

That realization was what finally made you cry.

Steve exhaled slowly and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, looking away from you – away from your tears like he couldn’t bear the sight. The bitter way he spoke your name made your heart weep. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Just when I think we’re on the same page, you do something else and then we’re back to whatever the hell this is.”

“I know,” you croaked, sniffling. “I know, Stevie. I’m sorry.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to get the tears to just stop, but it didn’t work. Then you blinked them open in surprise when you suddenly felt his palm on your cheek, large and warm and so, so familiar. It was hesitant, the way he touched you, but it made your face burn all the same. 

There was the barest hint of a smile on his lips when he said softly, “You’re a real mess, you know that?”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh a little, leaning into his touch. “I know.”

Your gaze drifted from his eyes to his parted lips and back again; you couldn’t help it. His body was closer now, so much that the breath caught in your throat, especially when you realized that he was looking at you in the exact same way.

Embarrassment coursed through your veins. It hadn’t exactly been an ugly cry, but it wasn’t pretty either, what with your smeared makeup and running mascara. You were a mess in every sense of the word, and you knew it. 

Steve had seen more sides of you than you cared to admit.

Your skin flushed hot under his touch and the butterflies in your stomach multiplied as you stared up at him, almost in a daze. His eyes were always such a gorgeous blue, kind and gentle, even now – and for the first time in days, you felt like things were going to be okay.

“Can I trust you?” Steve asked you again, quietly, like he was afraid of the answer.

This time, however, you placed your hand atop his and gave him a watery smile. For the first time in a long, long while, you were completely honest. “Yes.”

That was the right answer, because he pulled you into his arms, flush against him as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and whispered sweet nothings into your hair – things like, “I’ve missed you,” and, “Come back with me,” and, “I’ll take you home.”

Your fingers caught in the fabric of his shirt as you breathed in his comforting scent – clean, like fresh laundry and soap and home.

Three little words were on the tip of your tongue, but you forced them back. As tempted as you were to say them, you didn’t; and as desperately as you wanted to go with him, you couldn’t. This was the best opportunity any of you would have at shutting down the operation for good. Having someone on the inside was better than trying to gather information externally, especially considering how reclusive Marisol was let alone the fortress she lived inside.

You knew that he knew it, too. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, holding each other under the too-bright fluorescent lights in that small nightclub bathroom, but it must have been too long – because when you finally returned to the VIP lounge upstairs, Marisol looked positively treacherous.

Part Thirteen