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yelena-bellova · 2 years

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Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Strangers in the Night

Plot: Joel and Y/n try their hardest to ignore and avoid their past while waiting on the cover of night to leave the QZ.

Warnings: M for violence, gore, language, allusions to sex, alcohol, unwanted advances (16+)

Word Count: 6.9k

A/N: Okay, let me just say, did not expect such a big reaction to this little 2.2k fic I thought up randomly. You guys wanted a series, so here’s a series. It’ll be 16+ from here so please specify your age in your bio if you’d like to be tagged. I’m really excited to write this one, hope y’all enjoy it! It's gonna be a wild frickin' ride...

——————————

May 9th, 2002, Austin Texas

It was unseasonably warm for spring in Austin. Summer was making an early entrance and driving everyone indoors. The bars were packed each night, but especially on the weekends. Something about the heat always inspired people to drink more.

The Miller brothers were seated at a table in the far corner of Dane’s, each nursing a Budweiser. Despite it being a Saturday, they’d worked overtime on a garage apartment conversion. It was in Joel’s neighborhood and he needed the money. Jobs hadn’t been ripe for picking lately, in going the extra mile with the clients he did have, he could bank on a few referrals.

“We’re runnin’ short on the 2x4s,” Joel told his brother, “And it wouldn’t hurt to-“

“Dude,” Tommy made a slicing motion with his hand, “You’re off the clock. Switch off for a while.”

“I’m just trying to get ahead,” Joel replied.

Tommy smiled, lounging in his chair, “Look, you’ve got two modes: work mode and dad mode. And guess what? You never come out of either. It’s a Friday night, you’ve got a sitter, why not just try being a single, not-offensively unattractive, guy?”

Joel’s eyebrows were permanently furrowed, especially around conversations like this. Tommy meant well, but he’d been trying to get Joel to find something outside of work and his daughter for years. It wasn’t happening.

“So you’re sayin’ I should focus less on keeping a roof over my daughter’s head and makin’ sure she’s happy?” Joel asked, leaning back in his chair, “I get that right?”

Tommy chuckled and shook his head, “I’m just saying…you’re gettin’ more and more like an old man the longer you’re by yourself. Wouldn’t hurt to find someone that makes you happy.”

It was easy to ignore Tommy’s ramblings, but Joel couldn’t deny there was some truth to what he was saying. After Sarah’s mom up and left them, he kept his heart guarded from the world. Sarah and Tommy were the only ones he had the space to love. No, not the space. He had all the capacity in the world to hold someone else close to his soul, he was just too afraid of getting hurt again.

A few feet away at the bar, Y/n twirled her wine glass in her hand. Navigating a new city and a new job was taking it out of her. There had been no catalyst in her decision to move to Austin. She wasn’t running from a bad relationship nor did she need space from her family, she’d just wanted a change. So far, aside from the random heat wave, she was enjoying herself. The people were friendly, the neighborhood was quiet…she could see herself eventually calling the place home.

As she enjoyed her own company, a muscly man approached the seat next to her. He didn’t even do her the courtesy of asking if it was taken.

He flashed a pearly smile at Y/n, “Havin’ a good night?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded, not looking up from her glass.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” the man continued, “You new to town?”

Y/n politely smiled, wishing he’d taken the hint. “Sure.”

“Findin’ your way around alright,” he put his elbows on the bar, indicating he wasn’t going anywhere, “Or are you thinkin’ you need a tour guide? Someone to show you around? Help make you feel a little more comfortable?”

Y/n was fighting the urge not to laugh, she’d seen dogs in heat more subtle than this guy. “I’m doing fine on my own, thanks,” she replied, her will to smile fading with each second he stayed.

“I don’t know,” the guy dragged his fingers up and down the condensation on his beer bottle, “You seem a little lost to me, darlin’. I got a hog outside, we could head out…night scene’s pretty wild here.”

Y/n took another sip of her wine, “Not really a wild kind of gal.”

The man’s lingering stare was beginning to make Y/n’s skin crawl. It was like he was staring straight through her clothes. He leaned in to her, his arm grazing hers, as if the close proximity was imperative to what he was about to say.

“I got this theory that inside every woman,” he lowered his voice, “There’s a wild girl just waitin’ to come out. She just needs the right cowboy,” he paused, a smile spreading across his lips, “To let her loose.”

Concealing her annoyance, Y/n looked down at her glass bashfully. She peeked back up out of her eyelashes, “What’s your name?”

“Jacob,” he answered.

“Jacob,” she repeated sweetly, leaning in closer to him, “Going around trying to prove how big your dick is ain’t gonna make any woman want to touch it.”

Jacob pulled back a little, shocked at both the comment and how easily being foul mouthed came to this woman. Y/n scrunched her nose and gave a sugary smile before moving to get up from her stool.

Jacob grabbed her shoulder, not prepared to lose the battle. “Hang on there, sweetheart.”

“Let go of me,” Y/n was quick to say.

“I don’t think you quite understand what I’m offerin’ you here…”

“Let,” Y/n gritted her teeth, raising her voice slightly, “Go of me.”

Jacob began to close the space between their faces, “What’re you gonna do if I ain’t ready to say goodbye to ya yet?”

“Hey.”

Y/n turned to the two men who had approached while she was fending Jacob off. The one with the mustache swung his fist and landed a shiner on Jacob’s nose. The whole bar gasped as he stumbled backwards, clutching his now bleeding face. The mystery man placed an arm in front of Y/n, making himself the barrier between Jacob’s advances and her safety.

Once Jacob caught his footing, revealing just how tipsy he was, he clumsily stalked back towards them. The second man stepped forward and effortlessly threw a punch to Jacob’s abdomen, knocking him off his feet and to the ground. The other patrons actually clapped and cheered at the knockout.

The man shielding Y/n and his friend grabbed Jacob’s arms and pulled him to his knees. Dane, the owner, came out from around the counter and marched towards the door. The men dragged Jacob through the bar, taking no care to his hands and feet as they knocked into chairs and tables. With Dane holding the door open, they threw him out, earning another round of cheers from the bar.

Y/n watched it all with a hand over her mouth. The whole thing had left her more anxious than she cared to admit.

Her two saviors made their way through the room, earning pats on the back from most of the patrons.

“Are you okay?” The man with the mustache asked when they reached her.

“Yeah,” Y/n answered, trying to hide how her hands was shaking, “Are you?”

“Not the worst we’ve seen,” the clean shaven guy smiled, flexing his bruised hand, “But I think you’re gonna have to take a shower to get that creep’s touch off ya.”

Y/n chortled, the feeling of his fingers digging into her skin hadn’t left yet. “I’m really sorry you had to step in,” she said earnestly, “I’m not great with following through on my smack talk.”

“Nah, you were holding your own,” the cheerier of the two men laughed.

“Hey, can I buy you guys a round?” Y/n asked, “It’s the least I can do.”

“There’s no need,” the quieter guy shook his head.

“No, I want to,” Y/n insisted, looking between the two of them.

The one who had done most of the talking so far was the first to relent. “Fine, but we’re spotting your next glass. Just to try and restore the ever-deteriorating reputation of men.”

Y/n laughed heartily for the first time of the night. She liked them.

“Hey, Dane,” the talkative man flagged down the bartender and turned to Y/n, “What’re you drinking?”

Y/n held up her dwindling glass of rosé.

“Another rosé for the rosebud,” the man finished, winking at Y/n in a way that felt more playful than flirtatious, “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

“Y/n,” she took his extended hand and shook it before turning to the other man.

“Joel,” he pressed his palm to hers.

Y/n smiled, her eyes lingering on the man as they shook hands. There was a peace to him that she already knew she liked.

Y/n ended up at Tommy and Joel’s table, each of them sipping a victory drink and talking up a storm. It was one of the easiest conversations any of them had ever had.

“So you just picked up one day and,” Tommy made a swooping gesture, “Came to Austin?”

Y/n shrugged, “Just needed a change.”

Tommy whistled, “That’s brave.”

“I mean, it’s Austin,” Y/n chuckled, “It’s not New York,” she took a sip of the free rosé, “What about you two?”

“Nah, we’ve been here forever,” Joel answered, holding his beer to his lips.

Tommy raised his bottle to his brother, “Can’t even get this fucker to take a vacation somewhere.”

“Workaholic or homebody?” Y/n asked.

Joel was inhaling to answer when Tommy spoke up, “Both.”

“Nothin’ wrong with working hard or staying home,” Joel replied, throwing back a swig.

“Nah,” Tommy replied, smirking, “Only when you do it.”

Joel glared out the sides of his eyes at his brother. Y/n laughed against the rim of her glass.

“Well,” Tommy leaned against the table, “If you ever need a tour guide, we’re at your disposal. We’ll show you the real grimy hole in the wall places. Best food or beer in the city are always in the places you’d least expect it.”

Contrary to Jacob’s thinly veiled advances, Y/n took Tommy and Joel for exactly how they presented themselves. They were funny, they were gentlemanly, and they were the first people in Austin she’d met who she felt truly comfortable around.

Joel, who was naturally more quiet than his brother, had never felt more lost for words. He was trying to keep himself in check considering the happenstance of their meeting, but all he wanted to do was look at Y/n. When she laughed, something inside his stomach twisted. When their eyes met, his chest tightened. There was something about being around this girl that felt very, very different than anyone else.

“Well,” Y/n checked her watch, catching the late hour, “I’ve got the morning shift tomorrow and I can’t be too hungover. Thank you both for the company and the wine,” she smiled at Joel, “It was a big improvement on how the night started.”

“Yeah, we’d better go too,” Joel announced, rising to his feet with Tommy, “Gotta get a head start tomorrow before the storm moves in.”

Tommy gestured to his big brother, smiling at Y/n, “What’d I tell you?”

“I gotta side with your brother here,” Y/n smiled, scrunching her face a little, “Everyone needs a break. That’s kinda what weekends are for”

“See?” Tommy said, “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

Joel was on the verge of busting out in to a grin. “Not my problem if you two are lazy,” he shot back.

Y/n and Tommy each gaped with laughter. Joel smiled, he’d wanted to hear her laugh one more time before they parted.

“Well, you two have restored the name of ‘men’ quite admirably,” Y/n grabbed her purse, “Thank you for what you did, really. If you hadn’t stepped in, tonight would have ended much worse.”

Tommy shook his head, “Don’t mention it. Just learn how to throw a punch,” he slapped his hand against Joel’s shoulder, “And I think we’ll both sleep better at night.”

“I’ll get on that,” Y/n chuckled. She wasn’t sure if it was the kinship she felt or the rosé had simply relaxed her, but she reached over to Tommy and gave him a one-armed hug.

“See ya around, Rosebud,” Tommy said, keeping his hand respectfully high up on her shoulders.

“See ya,” Y/n replied, pulling back to look at Joel. She wasn’t sure what she expected to happen, only that she wanted to memorize his face before she left. “Goodnight,” she said with a small smile.

Joel tried to ignore how his heart was thudding in his chest. “‘Night,” he replied.

His eyes followed her all the way to the door, till she stepped out into the steamy evening air. He wasn’t sure why he had to urge to follow her.

“You,” Tommy gripped Joel’s shoulder a little tighter, “Are fucked.”

Joel rolled his eyes at his little brother’s laughter, “The hell’re you talking about?”

Tommy fell back down in his chair, a hand resting on his chest, “You were fuckin’ smitten with her.”

“‘Smitten?’” Joel cringed, taking his seat and his beer, “What’re you, 14?”

“Fine, hot for, taken with, enamored, mesmerized,” Tommy chuckled, “Whatever you wanna call it…you liked her.”

Joel shrugged and took another drink, “‘Course I liked her. You liked her too.”

“Not like you,” Tommy shook his head, still grinning, “I think she liked you too.”

Pushing down the way his stomach jumped when Tommy said that, he glanced over at the door again. He looked back to the table, checking to see if she’d left anything. Maybe she’d have to come back. What would he do if she did? Would he ask for her number? Or was that too forward? He didn’t want anything he did to remind her at all of the asshat they’d tossed out-

“She didn’t leave anything, dude.”

Tommy’s voice brought Joel out of his thoughts. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at Y/n’s empty seat. There was no reason for her to come back.

“You’re fucked,” Tommy brought the conversation full circle, patting his brother’s shoulder and taking a drink.

Joel hid his disappointment, just like his infatuation; well, but not well enough. He looked down at his bottle, “Doesn’t matter. We’re not gonna see her again.”

Tommy shrugged, “Austin ain’t that big.”

Outside, Y/n was making the three minute walk down the street to her apartment complex. Her mind was no longer focused on the douche whose name she was already forgetting, all she could think of was how Joel smiled like he had a secret. How his laughter was reserved only for when he found something hilarious. How whether he was sitting beside his brother or punching out a handsy creep, he was completely relaxed. How his brown eyes were so warm, one gaze into them had given her goosebumps…

Y/n shook her head at herself, completely thrown for a loop. One encounter with one guy and she felt like there was some invisible string tugging harder with every inch of distance she put between herself and the bar. The chances of bumping into Tommy and Joel again in a city as big as Austin were slim. It was a reality she had to face. It was just one of those meetings that left you feeing like you’d experienced true magic. She was saddened at the thought of never sitting across from Joel again.

Into the night, with a total distance of seven minutes unbeknownst between them, Joel and Y/n each retired and prepared for their respective early mornings. Joel paid the neighbor who’d watched Sarah, Y/n called and checked in on her sister, who’d just had a baby. Joel kissed his daughter goodnight, Y/n finished up a load of laundry. They each changed into their pajamas, brushed their teeth, and turned out the lights. It was then, in the sweet space between sleep and consciousness that they let their minds drift back to each other….

—————————

2023, Boston

Of course it was raining. Rain made everything easier.

Joel, Tess, Y/n and Ellie trudged through the streets of what was once downtown Boston. Y/n kept a hand on Ellie’s back at all times, untrusting of both the people around them and the ones they were traveling with.

Even with the utter chaos they were in the middle of, Y/n’s mind was overtaken by the holes being burned into the back of her head. Joel’s stare was unfaltering. She wanted to turn around and scream at him, but that would garner the attention they were trying so hard not to attract. That was fine, she had more than enough anger and more than enough time to let him feel it.

Joel, whose every move was made with vigilante like precision, was struggling to keep his thoughts in order. The past was so easy to put behind you when you never had to look at it. Faced with the person who knew it all, had seen it all…the second he’d laid eyes on Y/n, it had all come flooding back. He had to get himself in check. Y/n’s unfiltered hatred was helping him there.

They made it to Joel and Tess’ apartment without any trouble, the four of them filing down the narrow hallway. Y/n pulled as far away from Joel as possible while they waited for Tess to unlock the door, which wasn’t very far. Once it was open, Joel impatiently waved for Ellie to enter, saving the same glare for Y/n. Ellie entered apprehensively, while Y/n knew enough to know that they were Joel and Tess’ leverage. Without them, they couldn’t get their battery. They were safe, for the time being.

“Give us a minute, all right?” Tess stated more than asked, heading back out to the hall.

“What the fu-“ Ellie started, the door silenced the last two letters.

Y/n put a finger to her lips, standing beside the door and listening to the other side of the door. Tess and Joel were discussing which route to take, something that infuriated her. There was only one child in their party, she refused to let Joel make her anything other than an equal.

She threw down her backpack and threw the door open. “If you two are planing on excluding me from the planning side of things, let me know now so I can strangle you both,” she said, smiling sweetly.

“You wanna tell us what we’re really doing with this kid?” Tess fired back.

“Not particularly,” Yn replied.

“Then you don’t get a voice here,” Tess looked to Joel, “We leave after dark. Stay with them.”

Joel took a step forward as his partner walked off, “Wait, why do I have to — Tess! Tess!”

Tess turned the corner of the hall without ever breaking stride.

Joel sighed loudly, eventually looking over to Y/n.

“She’s lovely,” Y/n snarked, earning a signature Miller scowl.

Joel nodded towards the door and Y/n slipped back inside, he kept an overly safe distance between them. Y/n unzipped her backpack and grabbed her first aid kit, sitting down at Joel’s table to tend to her bullet wound. Joel shrugged off his pack and threw himself on the couch. Ellie was splitting the distance between them, holding a large book in her hands.

“So,” the girl started, “Who’s Bill and Frank?”

Joel looked up confused, as if he couldn’t imagine how she could have possibly heard anything from the other side of the door.

“Oh, come on, Tool Time,” Y/n chortled, as she opened the bottle of disinfectant, “This whole place is paper thin.”

“The radio’s a smuggling code, right?” Ellie asked, “60s song, they don’t have anything new. 70s, they got new stuff. What’s 80’s?”

Joel got off the couch and ripped the book out of Ellie’s hands, throwing it to the side. He glanced over at Y/n, who was struggling to keep her grunts quiet as she cleaned her wound. A twinge of pain ran through his chest as she scrunched up her face, trying to keep her breaths steady. His fingers automatically twitched to help her, but it wouldn’t actually help anyone. Instead, he fought his instincts walked back to the couch and laid down.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked.

“Killin’ time,” Joel said, his drawl particularly noticeable.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure that out,” his eyes were already closed, just like the conversation.

Y/n began to use a q-tip to spread antiseptic cream over the wound, the cooling sensation dulling the pain.

Ellie took back the book and walked past Joel, “Your watch is broken.”

Four little words froze Y/n, hunched over the table with her supplies. She didn’t have to look to know that Joel’s eyes were open again. It was the second time today that they’d been perfectly in sync. The first was pulling their guns on one another and, to be honest, Y/n would have preferred to stare down the barrel of his pistol. Bullets were simple and easy to dodge, memories were more cunning and hurt significantly more.

Y/n finished dressing her wound, zipping the kit back up and throwing it in her backpack. She laid her jacket out to dry on the back of the chair and finally took a good look at her surroundings. She couldn’t have chosen a place more opposite to Joel’s 3-bed 3-bath in Austin. The floors creaked, the walls were stained, and the ceilings were uncomfortably low. Home was a fluid concept in the world they lived in, and the kind Y/n was thinking of was lost entirely.

“He’s fun,” Ellie grunted from her seat at the window.

Y/n scoffed, “You have no idea.”

If they’d be using the cover of night to travel, Y/n knew Joel had the right idea to sleep now. She pulled out a sweater from her backpack, bunched it up and set it on the ground across from the couch. Without any blankets, she made the call that a nearby rug would be the next best thing. She shook it out and placed it below the sweater.

“Try and get some sleep,” Y/n instructed Ellie, “You’re gonna need it.”

Ellie simply hummed and continued paging through the book. Y/n slipped under the dirty rug and sighed, she’d slept in worse places for much longer…

She took the moment of peace to finally take a good look at Joel. His eyebrows still furrowed as he slept, as if he was in a constant state of disapproval with the world. The rest of his face was softer, a strange contrast, but so very him. His chest rose and fell in a perfect rhythm. It was hard for Y/n not to remember how it felt to lay with her ear against his heart, lifting and lowering with him…

The QZ was small, and stories got around. Y/n had known for a while that Joel was in Boston. She’d also heard the stories of the things he’d done, the people he’d killed, and just how far he’d go to guarantee his survival. Despite not owing him anything, Y/n had refused to believe them. She adamantly denied the possibility that she could have ever loved a man capable of such hideous acts. The Cordecyps had changed them all in different ways, but she had to believe that Joel was still Joel…

————————————

“Hey.”

A mumble and a boot kick to the shoulder had Y/n startling awake. She rolled over to see Ellie, still sitting by the window with the book in her lap.

“How do you know him?”

Y/n squinted and sat up, her joints cracking as she stretched her limbs. The sky outside was pitch black, clearly she’d needed more sleep than she thought.

“He’s an…” she began to say, the complexity of the situation hitting her all over again. There was only one answer to give that wouldn’t invite any more questions. “I was friends with his brother a long time ago.”

Ellie’s seemed to accept it, “Where’re you from?”

“Texas.”

The girl’s eyes widened, “You lived in Texas?”

“Just for a little while,” Y/n replied, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes,

Ellie looked down at her hands and then out the window, “I’ve never been out that far.”

Y/n sighed, thinking about what it might be like to grow up never having known what the world used to be like. “You’re not missing much, kid,” she lied. She’d have gone back to Austin in a heartbeat, if it was at all possible.

“What’s ‘rosebud?’”

Y/n’s body went cold, as if she’d just been plunged into ice water, memories slamming into her like waves. A glass of rosé and belly laughter, a backyard game of football, soft lips whispering sweet nothings against her ear…

She looked over at Ellie calmly, “What?”

The girl nodded towards Joel, who was still peacefully sleeping. “He kept mumbling the word ‘rosebud,’” she replied, “Thought maybe it was a code word or something.”

It did serve as a codeword, containing secrets, laughter, and all the love that had once existed in Y/n’s world. Now the mere utterance cut her worse than any blade could.

“If it is,” Y/n got to her feet, not wanting to be anywhere near the word, “I don’t know what it means.”

Joel woke then, startling without any real physicality. He stared up at the ceiling, dazed from his dreams. No, nightmares. That’s what they were.

“You mumble in your sleep,” Ellie said, announcing her presence, “Something about ‘rosebud.’”

If that didn’t wake him up, nothing could. His eyes flitted across the room, looking for the woman who owned every inch of the word. When Joel couldn’t find her, he pushed up on one arm and found her sitting at his kitchen table with her back turned to him.

In his subconscious, he’d seen her as she used to be. Her eyes full of light, her smile like pure sunshine, laughter pouring out of her with a freedom so few people allowed themselves. He’d felt her soft skin against his, felt her lips pressed to his jawline, right between his neck and his ear. He’d known her for the first time in twenty years, only to wake up and find her ghost.

Joel swung his legs over the couch and rose, his knees and back aching. Getting older in a post-apocalyptic world felt extra cruel. He ventured over to the table, ready to test the waters and see just how bad of a time he was in for.

Y/n sighed in annoyance as Joel took the chair next to her. She needed distance she wasn’t going to get, from him and all that he reminded her of.

They sat in the most awkward silence either of them had ever known.

Joel was the first to break it, “You get some sleep?”

Y/n glared out the corner of her eyes at him, the first words he spoke to her after their confrontation and that was the first thing he said?

Joel’s chest tightened at her poisoned stare, he wasn’t going to get an answer. “Wound okay?”

“This whole thing’ll go a lot easier if you stop pretending to give a shit about me,” Y/n said quietly, the sharpness of her tone cutting through the volume, “We both know you don’t.”

The walls weren’t coming down. Joel knew that. He didn’t want them down. But after seeing her, full of energy and joy, he had to check and see if there was any bit of that woman left. His eyes scanned her skin, so many scars and scrapes where there had once been a smooth surface. Her hair was dry, streaks of oil laced like highlights through the strands. Her nails were chipped and caked with dirt underneath. But most noticeably, there were two prominent frown lines across her cheeks. That let Joel know that the woman he’d once loved was absolutely gone.

“What happened to Tommy?” Y/n asked. She couldn’t help herself, but she kept her tone frosty.

“Sent a message three weeks back,” Joel answered, his fist fidgeting against the table, “Haven’t heard anything.”

Y/n didn’t want to take any strolls with Joel down memory lane, but Tommy was…Tommy. She couldn’t deny that she still cared about him deeply. “Do you know where he is?”

“Wyoming,” Joel answered, looking past her eyes at the wall. He didn’t think he could handle speaking about his brother to her, of all people.

“Oh,” she said, “So you’re completely crazy now.”

That earned her a hardened gaze, as if Joel had anything else for her.

“I’ve never been on the other side of the Wall,” Ellie spoke up, “Look how dark it is.”

Y/n got up first, smoothing her tank top back down and leaning against the wall near the door. Joel followed, retaking his seat on the couch. They both pondered the same thing separately: how much life Ellie had missed out on just by being born in the wrong decade.

“You guys go out there a lot?” Ellie asked Joel.

“I guess,” he answered.

“When was the last time?”

“Maybe a year,” Joel quickly replied, he wasn’t enjoying all the questions, “What’s it matter?”

“But you know where to go,” Ellie clarified, looking too much like a kid, “So we’re gonna be okay.”

It was a fair question, and Joel couldn’t fault her for being scared. Fear was all she’d ever known.

“Yeah,” he answered, significantly softer than his last one.

Y/n’s eyes grazed the window, spotting the plastic butterfly that clung to the glass. After all these years, Joel had managed to keep it. It took all the self-discipline she had not to let her tears fall.

“So what’s the deal with you anyway,” Joel asked Ellie, “You some kind of bigwig’s daughter or somethin’?”

Both Ellie and Y/n knowingly smirked to themselves. “Something like that,” Ellie replied, “Oh, the radio came on while you were sleeping.”

“What?” Joel snapped to attention, leaning forward, “What was the song?

“He kept sayin’ like, “wake me up before you go-go?” Ellie answered, making Y/n and Joel feel much much older.

Joel knew what that meant, and it was nothing good. “Shit,” he whispered to himself.

Ellie’s smirk spread across her face, “Gotcha. 80’s means trouble. Code broken.”

Joel got to his feet, having used his patience up earlier in the day. “Listen-“

Y/n was between him and Ellie in a flash, sticking out a hand towards Joel. She was off limits, even for a light scolding. Luckily, the door opened up before anything could be said. Tess had returned.

“The spot under Lancaster looks good,” she reported, turning to Ellie after, “You got a jacket in your pack?”

“Yeah,” Ellie responded.

“Okay, get it. It’s time to go.”

Y/n stuffed her sweater back in backpack and went to retrieve her now-dry jacket. It had been a long time since she’d gone outside of the QZ, she couldn’t decide whether she was terrified or happy to step outside the fence.

Joel on the other hand felt like he couldn’t move. Between the fear over his brother’s safety, being close to Y/n once again and the daunting task ahead of them, he wanted to pause it all for a moment. Tess throwing his jacket at him was a good reminder that he didn’t get to take minutes.

As Y/n went to the window to check Ellie, her eye caught the butterfly in the window again. Much like ‘Rosebud,’ there was another name that she never said. She could practically see it weaved into the fine details of the creature, the bright blue against the dark black. When Joel’s back was turned. Y/n pulled the cling off the window and shoved it in her backpack. If they were going to do this, she needed to feel strong enough to do it. She’d give it back to Joel and face his wrath when the deed was done.

The four of them made it out and into the underground tunnels, landing in a lesser frequented area of the QZ. Joel climbed out first and scanned their surroundings, helping to pull Ellie out after. Y/n came through next, though Joel knew better than the extend his hand to her, and finally, Tess.

“Holy shit,” Ellie remarked, spinning around to take it all in, “I’m actually outside.”

Not half a second later, a helicopter made its round over them, searchlights shining off it. Tess pulled Ellie in and crouched behind a large piece of debris.

“Okay, we’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone,” Tess explained, “You stay close and you follow my lead.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Ellie nodded in understanding, glancing over to Y/n as if to get approval. Y/n nodded back, placing momentary trust that Tess would protect the girl.

“Same goes for you,” Joel said from beside her, his voice low.

Y/n glared over her shoulder, “I really don’t think you want me where you can’t see me.”

“Let’s go,” Tess ordered.

The four of them crawled under an abandoned school bus with Joel bringing up the rear. Walking while crouched was hard, but they managed their best and paused behind a car when a FEDRA patrol vehicle passed by. Once it was clear, they made their way through a rusted, metal pipe, stopping when the chopper passed over them again. Y/n caught a peek at Ellie’s face as the light shone on them, she looked terrified. Through her own nerves, Y/n reached over and took Ellie’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Joel watched the whole thing, if he wanted a glimpse of the woman he’d once known, he’d gotten it. Her heart was still there.

Their team hurried out of the pipe, rushing to hide behind another big piece of debris. A storm was starting, the lightning acting as temporary lighting for their path. Joel was leading the way when their presence was detected.

“Hey,” a FEDRA soldier shouted, “Hey! Don’t, don’t, don’t move.”

Joel hurriedly looked around for more, pushing Ellie behind him. He held his hands up in surrender, along with Y/n, Ellie and Tess. If they wanted to get out of this, they needed to play along.

The FEDRA soldier opened the visor of his helmet, getting a look at Joel. “You gotta be shittin’ me…”

“Okay, let’s talk this out,” Joel said calmly.

“Turn around,” the soldier ignored him.

“Hold on-“

“Get on your fuckin’ knees,” the soldier yelled, “Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

Joel wasn’t giving up, “Now, hold on-“

“What did I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said stay the fuck home,” he pointed to the ground, “Get on your knees!”

Y/n knew if he fought any harder, he was going to get them all killed. Taking matters into her own hands, she dropped. “Ellie,” she said calmly, “Get down.”

“Just get on your knees,” Tess said to Joel, “Just get on your knees.”

Joel listened and kneeled between Ellie and Tess, turning his back to the soldier. Ellie finally followed Yn’s directions and got down next to Y/n.

“Listen, you let us do this run,” Tess bargained, “We’ll split the cards with you.”

The soldier wasn’t having it, “Oh, will you?”

Y/n’s breaths quickened, knowing their chances of escape were slim. There had to be something to do. If she gave herself up, would he let Tess and Joel leave with Ellie? She didn’t particularly feel like dying, but Ellie was too important to compromise. They could get her the rest of the way.

“Hands on your head, eyes forward,” the soldier instructed. It was the eyes forward bit that bothered Joel the most. They wanted to control what they couldn’t even see.

“Hands on your head,” the soldier screamed, startling them all into doing it. He came up behind Tess, holding a device to her neck. Checking to see if they were infected.

Y/n’s heart stopped in her chest. Shit.

“Really, man?” Tess complained.

The soldier was undeterred, “Yep, we’re doin’ this by the book.”

Ellie nudged Y/n with her boot, signaling she knew what was coming. Y/n wasn’t sure how to offer her any assurance that they’d be okay.

“Unauthorized exit,” the soldier reported, “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine,” Joel tried again, “Everythin’ off this run and half off of all the pills.”

Their voices faded in Y/n’s ears. If she could move quick enough, she could spin around and shoot the soldier before he knew what was happening. It would give Tess and Joel a few seconds to get away.

Before Y/n could make a decision, Ellie stole her move and stabbed the soldier in the leg.

“Ellie!” Y/n and Tess cried in unison.

The soldier was momentarily dazed, stumbling backwards and trying to figure out where the injury was. Y/n took the opportunity to shove Ellie behind her. Joel did the same, jumping to his feet and standing in front of Y/n. It was pure instinct.

“Get out of the fuckin’ way,” the soldier yelled, aiming his gun past the adults.

Joel could talk his way out of a lot, but this looked grim. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.

“We can fix this,” he tried, holding up his hands as a barrier between them and the soldier.

The soldier was done listening to their pathetic attempts. “Move.”

Joel didn’t budge.

“Move.”

Y/n had been on the recieving end of a lot of guns, held by people who thought that God had abandoned the post-apocalyptic warland and it was their job to fill His seat. But the military regulated weaponry, the uniform, the expressionless face that wouldn’t fill with guilt the moment its body pulled the trigger.

It transported her back twenty years.

And she knew Joel was there with her.

He surged forward, letting out a gutteral cry as he tackled the soldier to the ground. He climbed atop him, pinning him, and began to throw one merciless punch after the other. The crunching of bone and squishing of flesh formed an awful, perfect, rhythm.

While Ellie watched and felt something awaken within her, Y/n felt something die. She watched the man she’d known in her past life as loving and tender become a necessary monster. People thought mourning was only for those who left the earth, but there were plenty of dead souls still breathing. If there was any debate as to whether or not her version of Joel Miller was truly gone, the proof was now and forever burned into Y/n’s mind. Someone else now inhabited in his body.

When the job was done, Joel sat heaving over the man’s body, looking down at his bloody and bruised fist. It was the closest he could ever come to avenging her. When he looked up, his eyes first fell on Ellie, who didn’t seem to mind the violence at all. It seemed she actually liked it.

Y/n’s eyes told a different story.

A well-timed lightning strike lit her up, and Joel saw tears pooling below her y/e/c pupils. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, anxiety mixing with terror. Joel knew exactly what she was thinking about him and for a singular second, he felt guilt. He felt guilt for causing her pain, for forcing her to see him as anything other than the man she’d known.

It passed as quick as it came. It had to.

Tess grabbed the dropped scanner and read the bright red screen. Y/n hurried back to the present pulled Ellie by her jacket away from Tess.

“No, no,” Ellie yelled, “No, I’m not sick!”

“Joel,” Tess called, beginning to panic.

“She’s not sick,” Y/n backed Ellie up, “She’s clean!”

“Joel,” Tess yelled again, putting space between Y/n and her.

Ellie pulled her jacket sleeve up to reveal her arm, “Look! Look! This is three weeks old! Nobody lasts more than a day! Does this look a day old to you?”

Tess examined the bite site, it looked more like a bad scar than an infectious wound.

“You would have fuckin’ killed me!” Ellie said in horror.

“I should fucking kill you,” Tess bit back, looking up at Y/n, “What the hell’s Marlene trying to pull?!”

“It’s true,” Y/n said, keeping one hand over her pistol in case Tess didn’t listen, “She’s clean.”

She looked past Tess’ shoulder and over to Joel, who was still watching her. It was a long shot to get him of all people to listen to her, but now, she was happy to bank on their history in hopes that he’d believe her.

“I swear it,” Y/n held a hand up, her eyes digging into Joel’s, begging for him to not raise his gun.

Joel stopped short at Y/n’s vulnerability, he was shaken in every direction just from the last thirty seconds. He felt his will to argue with her slipping away.

“They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run,” Ellie stated, she wasn’t wrong. They could argue elsewhere and keep their lives.

“Joel, we gotta move,” Tess called, interrupting the stare-off between Y/n and him, “We gotta move, Joel.”

Ellie and Tess were already making their way to the fence, but Y/n and Joel stayed a second longer. Neither one had much credibility with the other, not after the last time they’d been together. But at the moment, Joel had two choices. He could either die at FEDRA’s hands, or he could follow the woman he’d once trusted most in the world and believe her one more time.

He chose the latter, though he was far from believing.

Joel picked up the soldier’s rifle and gestured for Y/n to move, the two of them ran after Tess and Ellie, who were already slipping through a hole in the chained fence. Y/n pushed through it, coming to stand on the other side of the QZ’s limits and pausing for Joel. She knew he trusted her as far as he could throw her and she wasn’t totally confidant in turning her back to him. She waited till he came through and the two of them ran after Tess and Ellie, into the night and into the unknown…

————————

TYL Taglist: @bachiracore @stolenxkissess @kayleezra @the-wistful-reader @allthesesonsofbitches @goth-detectives365 @trippovert @rh1nestonecowg1rl @emiliaserpe @khaleesihavilliard @frietiemeloen @gracie7209 @dorck26 @thegirlnextdoorssister @alanis-altair @mariwinns16 @whosscruffylooking (for anyone whose tag isn’t working, change your settings to ‘show up in search results’)

Joel Miller Taglist: @xsnak-3x @xmoonknightlyx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #twenty years later

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nomoreusername · 24 days

Text

How TMR Characters Would React To Sharing a Bed With You

Thomas and you weren't the closest, but you weren't enemies

-You were at best neutral

-When he got trapped in Scorch City though, you both found yourself in an awkward situation

As you two looked at the motel room you would be sharing, you realized there was only one bed

He started looking around the room as if another one was going to appear out of thin air

When it obviously didn't, he turned and asked if you wanted him to sleep in the chair

You told him not to be ridiculous and crawled into it and under the covers

He awkwardly stood by the door for a minute before shutting it and slowly getting in beside you

As you realized he was sleeping on top of the blankets despite literally shivering you promised it was only a bed and told him to get under the covers

He ended up reluctantly doing so and realized that it was much more comfortable

Almost instantly, he was out like a light

When he was, you secretly stayed up, admiring his sleeping figure

As you laid there on your side, you tried to figure out how to tell Greenie that you want to be so much closer to him

Newt and you had been friends for almost four years and were inseparable

That’s why when you were all told that two people would have to share a room due to lack of space by Janson, you guys decided it wouldn't be a big deal

As you were both led to it you were completely relaxed, quietly making jokes about life

The guard unlocked the door, shoved you both inside, and left

When you realized there was only one bed in it he asked you what you wanted to do

He said he could find another place in the room to sleep, but you were worried about his bad leg getting sore if he sleeps anywhere else but a bed when he doesn't have to

You both decide it’s only a big deal if you let it be

You start out on completely opposite sides, in your own worlds

As the night goes on though, you end up gradually getting closer and closer

When he wakes up before you, he finds you two holding hands with your face right next to the other

His heart was racing like crazy, but he tried to play it cool but reminding himself that it’s only you

When that makes it worse, it becomes clear that the problem has nothing to do with one bed or how close you two are

The problem is that he has feelings for you

As you squeezed his hand in your sleep though, he thought that maybe you return them

You had been crushing on Minho for a while but didn't think he noticed your existence since you kept to yourself

He had been crushing on you but didn't think you noticed since you never talked to him

The thing was that you were far too nervous to

Thomas noticed the way you two made heart eyes at each other but never did anything

That's how he came up with a genius plan to lock you both in his bedroom

He said he had something to show you both separately, and when you both fell for it, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and ran off

You both banged on it for a while, yelling that it wasn't funny

After half an hour of no answer, you ended up giving up

All the screaming had worn you both out though

You looked at the cot, and both your faces heated up

Y’all went back and forth on who would take it for a few minutes before giving up and deciding that one night of sleeping together wouldn't do much harm

Despite your exhaustion, you didn't end up doing much sleeping

You guys talked about mindless things, stupidly wide grins on your faces as you did

When Thomas came back in the morning, he saw that you had both fallen asleep as one mess of limbs, arms and legs tangled together

While neither of you had confessed, this was one step closer

You and Gally had both escaped the Maze together and somehow also both been left behind by the Gladers

You had also both got picked up by Right Arm and fixed up, side by side

You were both scared

You had just been thrust into a totally different world with no hint on how you were expected to act yet told to start swimming

Needless, to say everything was pretty heavy

That's why even though he would normally mind very much, he was relieved when there was only one bed in the room you two were sharing

After the experience you had to go through with him, that feeling was mutual

You both climbed right into bed despite not planning on sleeping

There was a television that you both used to try and drown out your own thoughts

When it didn't work, he found himself speaking about Chuck, apologizing a million times for something he could barely remember

You leaned over and lightly hugged him

He instantly clung to you while holding back tears of regret and anguish

Only when he felt yours pour on his shirt was he unable to stop it

You both held each other all night, mourning the people you’d never see again, the people lost along the way, and who you once were

The only slightly good thing, the only thing that let you both keep hanging on, was that you would get to mourn all of that together

You and Aris had both been taken by WCKD during the betrayal

While you hadn't known each other before then, you become well acquainted when you ended up being each other's only cellmate

You two would pass time, talking about random things or plotting escapes you weren't ready to attempt

You always did so with him on the top bunk and you on the bottom

One night, you had been tossing and turning since had had been taken but hadn't been brought back

As the worry was about to leave you in tears, the cell opened, and he was dragged through, placed on the ground

It was obvious that whatever they did to him left him with so little strength that he wouldn't make it to his usual bunk

You carefully grabbed his arms and helped him onto yours, whispering promises of it being okay

After you tucked him in you went to get on the top bunk only for him to weakly grab your wrist and mumble for you to stay

You were unsure at first but couldn't find it in yourself to say no

You crawled under the blankets with him, wrapping your arms around him as you quietly hummed to him

Having human contact that wasn't causing him pain was such a change that he almost wanted to cry, but he didn't

He just laid there, dozing off to the feeling of safety while secretly falling deeper

When you woke up the next day, you realized he had gone to sleep with dried blood on his skin and a smile on his face

After Teresa turned everyone into WCKD, she was back in the city

They didn't pay a lot so at first she slept in the facility

As she worked her way up though, she ended up earning enough for a small apartment with a roommate

You were also looking for one so that way you could lower your rent

When you met her, you realized that you two clicked and decided she would room with you before even meeting anyone else

Despite this, she still stayed as late as possible for fear of burdening you

One night you went into her room decently late to ask if she wanted some of your snack only to realize she had no bed

You also didn't have a couch so you realized she had been sleeping on the floor

You waited up for her, and when she walked into the door you got up from the counter and asked if she was sleeping on the floor

She tried to lie but tripped over her words, giving it away

When she explained that she didn't make enough for one, you grabbed her hand and took her to your room, where you pointed to your perfectly available one

She started to protest but was so tired that she was slurring her words

After a few minutes she gave in and crawled in on the very edge

You got in and pulled her more towards the middle, whispering to her in the dark that she could never be a burden

Her entire face burned at the closeness of you two

As butterflies filled her stomach until she thought she was going to be sick, she realized a terrifying truth was she cuddled into your neck

She was now very much over Thomas and very into you

You had been found in the Scorch by Jorge

He brought you to his home where you were introduced to Brenda

You didn't have any family so they essentially said that they would become yours

After you accepted, Jorge then explained that you would have to share a bed with Brenda for a few nights while he found you one

She knew what it was like sleeping on the floor and was completely fine with it

Since you were still strangers she didn't want you to feel awkward though so she put a pillow barrier between you

Since it was your first time in an actual bed though, you ended up moving around a lot in your sleep

You also moved over the pillow barrier until you were cuddled into your side

She woke up in the middle of the night realizing that and froze as she tried to figure out what to do

Eventually, she decided the best thing to do was nothing and went back to sleep

As she did though, her arm ended up around you

When you woke up, you apologized a million times only for her to promise that it was okay

You both got so used to ending up cuddling in your sleep that when you got a bed you ended up back in hers anyway

It was cramped and sort of inconvenient, but it

The Spring was slowly but surely running out of room

It seemed like there were more people than supplies, and it was killing y'alls resources

You all had to combat this in different ways, one of which was sharing a room with one bed

It was randomly drawn, with Harriet and Sonya’s names in the jar to prove that it was fair

Sonya’s name was pulled, followed by yours

She knew you didn't choose but was so surprised she almost didn't believe it

She had liked you for forever now so this was absolutely huge

She didn't want to admit that, but she didn't want to make you uncomfortable so she offered to take the floor

You told her that was silly since you had a perfectly good cot and patted the spot beside you

She was nervous but giddy and just full of feelings as she accepted it

She tried to sleep on top of the blanket, but you could feel her shivering later at night and pulled it over her

Her face felt like it was a thousand degrees knowing she was so close to you, but she resisted the urge to squeal

She didn't sleep a wink that night, too caught up in her emotions that one of the most romantic cliches was happening to her

She did daydream about what this could lead to though

After getting “rescued” by what was secretly WICKED, you and her stayed up later then the others, talking as you ate pizza

Eventually, you were both too tired to keep your eyes open and agreed to go to sleep

You attempted to get into the bedroom only to find that the door had been locked

You looked at each other to ask what the hell was happening, but neither of you knew

After a while of trying, it was clear that the door wasn't opening anytime soon

You both looked back at the single couch, then each other, silently asking if it was okay

When she nodded, you slowly took her hand and led her over there

It wasn't small, but it was still only a couch so you so two were pretty squished together

Your bodies were pressed against the other, and she had to wrap her arms around your waist so neither of you would fall off

Goosebumps traveled up your skin at the feeling of her breath on the back of your neck, but you didn't know what to say

So you stayed silent, holding her hands as she hugged you from behind

She was nervous about it but ultimately felt at peace knowing her best friend was so nearby

If there weren't obvious feelings you were both blind to though, maybe your hearts would beat at a normal pace

#thomas x y/n #newt x you #minho x y/n #gally x y/n #aris x reader #sonya x reader #harriet x reader #brenda x reader #teresa x y/n #the maze runner #tmr #tmr preferences #cute fluff #hurt/comfort #request

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emmalostinwonderland · 2 months

Note

Emma Happy Friday!! and a Ficlet prompt for ya

🥾 Walking tour for firstprince plz 💚

Thanks for the ask! I also got a 🥾 from @tailsbeth so this is for both of y’all. Sorry for the late submission 🫣

This is just absolutely un-fucking-fair. Alex has been giving food tours in New York for a couple years now – it's the perfect side gig for a college student trying to stay in shape and get to know a new city – but despite bad weather and Karens and the occasional scheduling issue, he’d never been tempted to quit on the spot. Until now, of course. This one guy with his blondness and his posh accent and his pink, pouty lips has no business taking his tour and practically fellating everything they try. He looks like he’s having an orgasmic experience at each stop on the tour, and Alex is… barely coping. “Oh, it’s been absolutely ages since I’ve had good gelato,” the guy moans at their Eataly stop. “This is just divine.” “I can’t say I disagree,” his companion, the beautiful, dark-skinned man with teal hair, replies. Alex briefly considers the appeal of being the filling in their sandwich so-to-speak before he shakes the thoughts away. Keep it professional, he thinks to himself. Blondie doesn’t seem to notice his blatant thirsting anyway, thank fuck. He’s moved on to asking Fashion Colors what kind of gelato he ordered. “Pretty sure it’s technically sorbetto, dear heart, but I simply could not ignore the passionfruit. My instincts were correct, of course; it’s delightful. What’s yours then? Mint?” “Pistachio.” Oh and how Alex both loves and loathes the way this guy pronounces pistachio with a hard C like the Italians do. So pretentious, and yet… well. “Ah, of course. You always have been a slut for the nut though, Haz.” “Pez! Some bloody decorum, if you please,” Blondie hisses at the other guy, and Alex can’t help but scoff. “Like you’re one to talk.” Both men turn and stare openly at him, leaving Alex to finally realize that he was the one who just fucking said that. So much for a good review. “Pardon?” Blondie asks, looking incredulous. Alex glances around to make sure his other tour group members are distracted. “You’ve eaten everything this afternoon like you’re filming an OnlyFans video, man. Not judging, just like… I dunno, I assumed you knew.” “I– I absolutely have not,” he splutters, his forgotten gelato dripping onto his fingers and nearly driving Alex to distraction once again. His mouth has gone completely dry, and he lets his subconscious run wild imagining all the scenarios in which he could lick the guy’s fingers clean. “Well,” the other man (Pez? Surely not his real name) adds in, “he’s not entirely wrong, darling.” Blondie looks like he wants to melt right through the sidewalk along with his pistachio gelato. “It’s cool, plenty of couples are like that,” Alex says as casually as he can manage. The words burn his throat on the way out. “Are y’all newlyweds? Honeymoon in the Big Apple?” “What? Us?” Blondie’s shock is about equal to his horror. His companion doubles over laughing. “Pez, stand up, you’re making a scene. We, er– no.” “No?” Pez, wiping tears from his eyes, straightens up. “No. Lifelong mates, though only in the English sense. Henry here is completely unattached, in fact. You wouldn’t happen to know any strapping young lads seeking a hopeless romantic with a fondness for good food? He’s new to the area, you see, and I think he’d benefit from being shown around the city.” “Fucks sake, Pez–” “Funny you should ask because I do have someone in mind, as a matter of fact.” Pez grins as Henry falls silent. “Do tell.” Alex clears his throat. “He’s actually a tour guide, so he’s friends with half the restaurant owners around here and can get a last-minute reservation practically anywhere. And he’s free tonight.” “Please be referring to yourself,” Henry says softly. “I don’t mean to overstep, of course, but–” “I’m absolutely referring to myself, sweetheart. Can I take you out after this?” “I’d like that very much.” Pez claps each of them on the shoulder. “Wonderful. You two go on mooning over each other; I shall be inside buying more pasta than I know what to do with. Henry, I’ll see you at home eventually — don’t hurry back.”

#ficlet friday #rwrb #firstprince

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tchallasbabymama · 1 year

Text

Ménage à Trois Part Deux: Chapter One

Hey there! Mholo! Sawubona! What’s been up??? I know y’all missed me, and I missed y’all too. I think I’m figuring out the whole work/life balance thing a little better, but I still have less time to write than I used to. That being said, it might take longer than before, but I just couldn’t wait to start this series finally! For those of you who are new here, welcome, and check out the first part of this series HERE before you read part 2. Also, check out my masterlist HERE to see my other stories.

Your feedback is always appreciated, so leave comments and please, please, PLEASE reblog if you like what you read. As always, just let me know if you want to be added to this taglist, and ENJOY!😘

Word count: 5,023

T’Challa looked out over the bustling Golden City and tapped his long, slender fingers against the side of his leg. An annoyed grimace tightened his handsome face while his eyes frantically searched the skies for even the tiniest hint of movement from the west. Even though the king desperately wanted to pace around the room, he stood still while his tailor put the finishing touches on his suit for the night. His agitation grew as the time ticked on, but despite his less-than-pleasant mood, he couldn’t help but admire himself in the mirror when he caught a glimpse of his reflection. The embroidered black ensemble he chose for the occasion covered his streamlined body like running water. The locs that usually dusted his jawbone were twisted back into an elaborate bejeweled bun, and he looked every bit a king.

A knock at the door eased T’Challa’s anxious mind for a second until his younger sister swept into the room in her suit that mirrored his, just with a silky golden scarf draped across her shoulders. T’Challa’s own shoulders slumped with disappointment, but he pivoted to positivity quickly enough for Shuri to miss his initial reaction.

“Look at you copying your big brother,” he teased her.

Shuri rolled her eyes as she crossed the room, but she still dapped him up in their special way. He was still her favorite person, no matter how much he annoyed her.

“Whatever,” she sucked her teeth. “I wear it better than you.”

“Who lied and told you that?”

“Zora. And she’s about as honest as they come!”

T’Challa’s jaw tightened at the mention of her name.

“Where is she, anyway?”

“Late,” grumbled the king.

“I should have known,” Shuri chuckled. “She also never gets anywhere on time.”

T’Challa grunted in response, and Shuri noticed the annoyance in his voice. She put up her fists, playfully tapping him on the shoulder with a weak jab.

“Come on, bro. She’ll be here. Chill out.”

“She’s two hours late.”

“Was there a problem with the opening?”

“No. According to Okoye and Bahati, they just could not pull her away from conversing with the crowd.”

The princess smiled.

“You know how Zora is. Or has it been so long that you’ve forgotten?” she asked him dramatically, with a hand to her chest.

“Just wait until you meet someone. You’ll finally understand why being apart is so painful.”

“It’s been two weeks, T’Challa. You’ve gone away for longer on missions before.”

“Being the one left at home makes the time move slower.”

“I guess.” Shuri shrugged as she plopped down on the end of the bed and began picking at her fingernails–an anxious habit that she rarely resorted to. T’Challa immediately caught on to her discomfort, and his overprotective nature flared in his chest. He hated when Shuri wasn’t her normal bubbly self.

“Something bothering you?”

“Just your mother.”

T’Challa laughed away the tension that had built in his shoulders just that quickly.

“What did our mother do this time, Shuri?”

The exasperated younger sibling groaned as she fell backward onto the bed, “She won’t stop trying to set me up!”

“Who is it now?”

“Nakia’s younger cousin, L’Nela.”

T’Challa’s face scrunched up disapprovingly. Even the tailor stopped moving the lint roller across the king’s chest to look at Shuri in disbelief before continuing his job.

“She’s not your type,” T’Challa stated as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

“You know that. I know that. All of Wakanda knows that! But mother is horrible at lesbian matchmaking. Bast bless her for trying, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take, brother!”

“I will talk to her,” the king chuckled at her dramatics.

“Well, actually, I came to see if Zora would-“

T’Challa’s kimoyo beads chimed with the tone he had reserved for his love, and the communication bead rolled down into his palm.

“Speak, and she shall appear,” he grumbled as Zora’s hologram smiled at him apologetically.

“I know, I know, I’m late-”

“Two hours, Zora?”

“I couldn’t just cut off the Ghanaian ambassador and ignore the excited children, T’Challa.”

“Brother’s been in a sour mood all day,” Shuri tattled from her spot on the bed, and Zora chuckled before her picture cut out momentarily.

“What are you doing?” T’Challa asked with an accusatory tone, his eyes squinting curiously.

“Getting dressed-“

“Just now?! It’s a two-hour ride!”

“I needed a nap!”

“I tried to tell her,” snarked Bahati, now promoted to Zora’s assistant, as she helped her into her attire for the evening.

“Not you both ganging up on me! I can be late to my own damn event if I want to. And need I remind y’all I’m not even that late? We’ll be landing in a minute.”

“A minute?” T’Challa asked for clarification, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“More like ten, kumkani wam.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Bahati,” Zora mocked. “You know, sometimes I think she’s your favorite.”

“It’s because she listens.”

“She’s paid to listen; I’m not.”

“Don’t I know it,” T’Challa smirked, and Zora mirrored the expression.

“I’ll be there soon, love.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

————-

Racing through the central African skies on the Royal Talon, Zora ended the call and allowed the makeup artist to touch up her gold eyeshadow while Bahati zipped up the side of her backless black jumpsuit.

She knew she was pushing T’Challa’s nerves by running so far behind schedule, but Zora liked it when he was all worked up about one thing or another. Granted, that wasn’t actually her intention this time. She really did get caught up at the grand opening of the new Wakandan International Outreach Center in Accra. Still, she recognized that she should have planned for that possibility instead of booking a gala immediately after.

After two years of working with T’Challa and foreign dignitaries to bring her vision to fruition, Zora was finally kicking off her student exchange program. One hundred students of all ages, fifty from Wakanda and fifty from across the diaspora, would trade places for a semester. Zora spent countless hours pouring over applications and hand-picking who she thought would benefit most from the carefully crafted program. Now the diaspora students were coming to Wakanda for a warm welcome.

As excited as Zora was for her exchange program to begin, she was running on fumes and needed time to relax and refuel. Not only had she just left Ghana, but she and T’Challa had just visited several Outreach Centers before that. Their trip started in Oakland at the very first Outreach Center. Then, they made stops in Houston, New Orleans, Chicago, D.C., and Atlanta before finishing their rounds in Charleston, where they met their goddaughter for the first time. Unfortunately, T’Challa couldn’t visit long because the elders called him away to handle a security problem near the southern border, but what little time he spent with the new addition to their extended family was more than enough to make an impact on Zora.

Indigo Ayers-Odun, daughter of Keisha and Dakarai, absolutely took Zora’s breath away. She was the best of both her parents, with her mother’s catlike eyes and her father’s broad smile. Zora and T’Challa were both tickled by how cautious the little girl was with them initially. Dakarai’s cautious nature shone through her before Keisha’s bubbly personality took over once she determined they were trustworthy enough for her to bless them with her laughter. She was a little miracle. One that captured the attention of everyone around her and made them wonder about making little miracles of their own.

Zora got caught up in the magic. As soon as she observed T’Challa playing with the infant, she began wondering if maybe the time was right to try for one. She thought of her belly stretching and her hips cracking to make way for a baby that she hoped looked like her twin, and a warmth filled her chest. Those thoughts didn't stick around long, though. They were quickly shot down by her logical mind telling her she was too busy for babies, but they still lingered in the back of her consciousness like a dull headache.

T’Challa noticed the way Zora’s eyes seemed to look past Indigo into the potential future, and M’Baku saw it when she called him on her kimoyo beads so he could see the baby while stuck in Jabariland. Neither man mentioned their observation, but they both held onto hope that they could become parents soon. They tried to hide their baby fever from Zora so she wouldn’t feel pressured, but she knew what they wanted. And as the days passed by, she wanted it more and more, too…

The thought of a tiny hand wrapping around her tattooed finger made Zora sigh as her eyes examined the design, and Bahati smiled knowingly at her friend.

“Missing your Jabari man?” she asked.

Zora simply nodded, not wanting to get too deep into the true reason for her melancholy.

“The gala will fly by, and you can be together after.”

“I know,” Zora sighed again. “I just hate having to treat him like a spare.”

“Zora, I’m sure he knows he’s not a spare. This is all just for show. It’s all politics.”

Zora glanced at herself in the full-body mirror, and a sense of déjà vu washed over her as she found herself transported back to her first morning waking up in Wakanda. She’d never forget the day that Bahati first gave her, Keisha, and that incompetent ambassador a tour of the country that she now called home. She had come a long way in just three, almost four short years. Zora was just an ambassador’s assistant when she first came to Wakanda. So much had changed in her life with that trip to Wakanda. It was supposed to be for a few short weeks, and she ended up falling in love with the country and two of its sons and sticking around. Now, Zora couldn’t imagine living anywhere else in the world.

“Don’t worry. Tonight will be a breeze,” Bahati reassured Zora as she gave her one last glance over to check for anything out of place.

Zora smiled at her friend and let the optimistic words wash over her. Tonight would be a breeze…

---------

Black students and their chaperones, journalists, and government officials from across the diaspora flew into Birnin Zana earlier that day, and each member of the royal family greeted them with a welcoming speech when they arrived. Shuri spoke of her excitement about sharing her technology with the brilliant young minds that had come to Wakanda. Ramonda spoke of how her travels with her late husband only gave her a taste of the outside world but encouraged the young Wakandans that would spend time beyond their borders to truly appreciate the cultural exchange. T’Challa ended the welcome brunch by telling them how the program came to be: Zora. He explained her absence and promised she’d grace them with her presence at the gala when she returned that evening.

Zora ensured each guest received a kimoyo bracelet complete with translator capabilities, and Wakandan tour guides were assigned to small groups of five to ten people. The following day, they’d all receive the same tour that Bahati and T’Challa gave Zora and Keisha when they arrived, plus more specialized tours based on academic focus. The Wakandan students would be greeted by their host communities in their own unique but similar ways. They mingled with their visitors with ease, and by the start of the gala, the only thing that separated them was the culturally specific styles of their formal attire.

The event was held in the palace courtyard, with the setting sun front and center for the guests to marvel at while they trickled into the space from their lodgings across the city. Zora had spent months working with a team of artists, contractors, and craftspeople to make sure the courtyard (as well as the entire palace and the visitor’s apartments) was perfect and to her liking for her visitors. Drummers struck their instruments with their palms in a high-energy rhythm that got the guests dancing before the event began. By the time the guests spotted the Royal Talon descending from the sky on the other side of the palace spires, spirits were so high that they erupted into applause that rang out loud enough for Zora to hear inside the aircraft.

She was a vision in black when T’Challa laid eyes on her as she came down the ramp, and as soon as she saw him, her face lit up. Zora ran to T’Challa and jumped into his arms, not caring about messing up their formal attire or makeup. Their lips locked in a wet embrace they had longed for over the past two weeks, and their bodies came alive at the other’s touch. His firm hands held her up and grabbed her cheeks to pull her body closer to his while her arms wrapped around his neck. Tongues explored mouths, and they breathed as one again.

Being apart for the past two weeks was rough for Zora and T’Challa. Seeing Indigo brought up a lot of emotions for them both, and being without their loves during that time made for some lonely nights. Kimoyo chats can only do so much, especially when Zora loved taking every opportunity she could to tease her man. Her fingers would explore her depths while she panted and moaned and called his name, wishing her walls were contracting around his girth, and he couldn’t help but stroke himself until he overflowed with passion watching her performance. He’d tell her what to do, and she’d become her bratty self instantly, forcing him to keep a running tab of her infractions.

There were eight.

Half of those infractions come from her insistence on not calling him by whatever name he allows her to at the time. Sometimes he wants to hear her call him the same name as the rest of the world, and other times he only allows “Sir.” When she wants to get under his skin, she’s always resorted to calling him by his title, and T’Challa kept count of four times when she chose to push that button.

Another three came from her refusal to take his directions. He told her to remove her panties; she pushed them to the side. He ordered her to stop rubbing her clit when she seemed like she was about to climax, but Zora did it anyway, a satisfied smirk on her face as her juices dripped down on her hand. Then, her striptease while the king was in a meeting with the council. Every few seconds, T’Challa’s kimoyo beads dinged with a picture that he dared not open until after the meeting, each one of her in fewer clothes than the one before. By the time he called her after the meeting ended, she was cumming all over her favorite vibrator and screaming his name in her soundproof suite on the Talon while he tried his best to maintain composure in the two free minutes he had in his schedule.

The last infraction was when Zora’s bratty side got out of hand. T’Challa had missed her usual before-bedtime call, and when he called her back twenty minutes later, Zora was tired and cranky from a long day of global politicking. Her attitude made her mouthy, and when she accused him of sleeping with his assistant, he’d had enough. The following day, she didn’t even remember their conversation, but the king had already begun plotting revenge.

Those thoughts of punishment disappeared from T’Challa’s mind when he saw Zora in the flesh again. His heart nearly stopped as he took in her curves, from the royal purple polish on her stubby toes to the tip of the beaded halo resting comfortably in her curls. His hands felt like they were glued to her ass, and he couldn’t help but squeeze it tighter and test the jiggle in his hands to make sure it was all still there.

Zora whimpered against T’Challa’s mouth when his fingertips got dangerously close to her lower lips, and his body responded with a rush of blood between his legs. He pressed his pelvis into her warmth and held her tighter while she gripped him as if he would ever drop her.

“Oh, my Bast!”

Zora pried her eyes open at the interruption and saw T’Challa’s new assistant trying her best to remain professional. The rest of the staff was used to their displays of affection and worked around them like it was nothing, but poor Kidada looked stunned to see her boss and king in such a precarious position.

“Uxolo kumkani–”

The two lovers cooled down and pulled apart with a chuckle, and the king waved off her nervous ramblings.

“No need to apologize, Kidada.”

She nodded and pushed her gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her round nose, looking away nervously while Zora and T’Challa were both swarmed by their stylists.

“How’s it looking out there?” Zora asked the assistant while the makeup artist touched up her lipstick.

“The visitors saw the Talon arrive, and they’ve begun asking for you.”

“We won’t keep them waiting much longer.”

“We?” T’Challa scoffed, and Zora cut her eyes at him, forcing Bahati to stifle a giggle.

“We’re a unit now, T’Challa, or have you forgotten your vows?” Zora teased, and it became T’Challa’s turn to cut his eyes.

“As if I could ever do such a thing.”

“I know, baby. You love me too much.”

“That and the eidetic memory,” T’Challa smirked, his eyes trailing up to the isicholo on Zora’s head.

His mind traveled back to the day he first placed it there as vividly as if he still existed in that very moment. The procession through Birnin Zana was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen until they made it to the palace steps, and he was allowed to turn around and face his future wife. The brightly colored flower petals that filled the air and covered the ground they walked on as they made their way through the city streets had nothing on Zora in her intricately woven purple robes and stark white wedding paint. Ramonda comforted Cheryl as they gave their children away to be married on the palace steps, and both mothers had tearfully proud smiles on their faces as the priestess declared their union to be blessed by Bast. T’Challa remembered hearing slight sniffles coming from Shuri’s direction, but he was too busy gazing into his new wife’s twinkling eyes as he secured her crown.

Zora caught him staring, but she knew where his memory had taken him. She reached out her hand to intertwine their fingers, and the swirling patterns that the tattooist etched into their skin the day they were wed completed the design in the way they intended.

“Let’s go,” she said with a soft smile.

T’Challa brought her hand to his lips and led the way out of the dressing room with Kidada, Bahati, and their Dora Milaje detail on their heels.

“My king, my queen,” Kidada rushed out as she followed behind them. “The queen mothers and the princess are already seated at the table, as are the council members, and the-”

“M’Baku?” Zora stopped walking and looked back at the assistant expectantly, but Kidada deferred to T’Challa.

“Zora,” he began, “he decided it would be best if he kept his distance. He sent Dembe in his absence.”

“Oh.” Disappointment weighed on Zora’s vocal cords like the heaviest boulder. “Is he ok?”

T’Challa sweetly cupped Zora’s face with the hand not interwoven with hers.

“He knew he could not remain professional in front of our guests.”

Zora nodded solemnly, and took a step forward, only to be pulled back into T’Challa’s embrace.

“My love, he-”

“I understand… it’s hard for me, too.”

He kissed her forehead, and the two of them took off again towards the courtyard with their entourage in tow.

Zora tried to go over her speech, but her mind kept wandering back to M’Baku. She couldn’t help but feel a little hollow inside every time he came up. That emptiness came not just from missing her Jabari man, but because, in order to build relationships with foreign dignitaries, Zora had to become something she despised: dishonest. More than telling simple lies, she had to hide a piece of herself because of her global peers’ conservative sensibilities surrounding non-traditional relationships.

Wakanda was already under so much scrutiny from the global press. The country’s name was being dragged through the mud by conservatives and liberals alike for their exclusionary practices, neither side of the political spectrum truly grasping the concept of reparations for descendants of chattel slavery. The United Nations was breathing down their necks for a taste of vibranium. Zora specifically had become the target of many a smear campaign calling her every foul name under the sun for “sleeping her way into the palace”—a sentiment that lost a news reporter in the UK his job when his boss mysteriously received pictures of said reporter in blackface taken just two years prior.

To Wakandans, and many people around the world with liberated mindsets, polyamory is just another way of life; there are also many who see it as unacceptable, especially when a woman has more than one man. The woman is considered loose and therefore unworthy of respect, and the men are seen as weak for allowing such a thing to transpire. As incorrect as that thinking is, Zora knew all too well the ass-backward logic of the colonized world, and it was her decision to keep the true nature of her relationship with M’Baku under wraps to be taken seriously. The world would at least halfway respect a gold-digger, but a whore, especially when in the body of a Black woman, was seen as nothing more than an object to be used. To only speak when spoken to and to not demand the respect said whore deserves.

That meant that while the visitors were inside Wakanda, the throuple was to act as a couple in public, and that M’Baku didn’t join Zora and T’Challa for diplomatic trips to foreign countries. However, when Zora chose to keep her other man from the world, she quickly learned that it wasn’t as easy as she thought it would be. In fact, it downright ripped her apart every time she had to restrain herself from holding his hand or planting a kiss on his cheek in specific settings. Every time Zora had to lie about their relationship or stop herself from touching him, her stomach churned at the lack of affection, but she’d always more than make up for it later.

Zora gave up on practicing her speech and let her mind wander to after the gala when the three of them would be together for the first time in weeks. She knew her guilt would make it difficult for her to accept the intimacy that M’Baku and T’Challa were undoubtedly about to lay on her for both her successful event and to celebrate their reuniting after her travels. She’d have to pay extra close attention to M’Baku, but as soon as she began planning all the things she wanted to do to him, the group arrived at the final set of double doors leading to the courtyard.

---------

The king and queen of Wakanda smiled so wide their cheeks hurt as they took picture after picture with their guests, much to Okoye’s dismay. She was on high alert, having so many foreigners in her home country, and although she loved the idea of the children coming to visit, she loathed the politicians and journalists that followed them. She didn’t trust them one bit, so she had her Dora Milaje, the palace guards, and the tribal warriors, on guard. Of course, each person had been vetted, and no weapons were brought into the country, but the warriors remained ready just in case something popped off.

The general scanned the crowd while Zora spoke to a twelve-year-old girl who was interested in design and had complimented her isicholo when she noticed the entrance to the gardens darken, and a prominent figure appeared from the shadows. Okoye fought a smirk as she continued to survey the space, and as soon as the young girl left Zora’s side, she leaned in close to whisper a message to her queen.

“Your husband is here, kumkanikazi wam.”

Zora’s face lit up, and she instantly began searching the crowd for his figure until she felt a nudge on her shoulder. She looked T’Challa’s way, and his eyes darted to the back corner as he nodded in that direction, having heard Okoye’s whisper with ease. Zora’s gaze followed his lead, and not a second later, her body felt flush as she laid her eyes on none other than the chief of the Jabari himself.

M’Baku stood near the entrance to the gardens wearing his chief furs, his large arm guards filling out his already massive silhouette in a way that made Zora’s mind go straight to the gutter. She felt a tingle between her legs at the thought of parading around his room in his furs while he was naked and tied down to his bed. The queen tried in vain to fight the urge to stare, but she was too weakened by his presence. He felt her gaze from across the room and looked away from his conversation with his liaison Dembe. Their eyes met, and it was as if the entire room had melted away. All that mattered was the man by her side and the man yards away from her. The only thing she felt was T’Challa’s warm arm sliding around her waist and the icy chill of M’Baku’s absence from her other side.

Always knowing exactly what Zora was feeling, T’Challa leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Now would be a good time for you to stretch your legs if you’d like.”

Zora tore her eyes away from M’Baku, and they landed square on the only man the entire world knew to be hers, a knowing and thankful smile gracing her plump lips before she met him for a chaste kiss.

“I’ll be back.”

T’Challa unhanded her waist and let her slip from his side, his eyes slyly taking in her figure in her jumpsuit as she sashayed toward the gardens with Ayo not far behind. He didn’t have time to daydream about what lay beneath the dark fabric because the U.S. Secretary of State dampened his mood by stepping into his line of vision.

While T’Challa was being hounded by Secretary Ross yet again, Zora slowly made her way through the room, stopping every few steps to mingle while she monitored M’Baku as she grew closer and closer to his warmth. When she stopped just four feet away from him to applaud a blended group of teenagers dancing together, he slipped away from Dembe and back into the gardens, causing Zora to smirk. So, he wanted to play games?

Zora glanced at T’Challa across the room to check in, and his slight nod gave her all the approval she needed.

“Ayo, please make sure we are undisturbed.”

“Ewe, kumkanikazi wam,” the lieutenant nodded and stood guard at the garden entrance.

Zora winked at Dembe as she slipped through the gate, and they sent back a knowing little wave as she disappeared into the shrubbery. The sounds of the party grew fainter with every step she took into the depths of the lush gardens until her stilettos became louder against the stone path than the drums in the distance. Zora’s feet carried her all the way there on autopilot, and when she rounded the last corner, her body came alive when a warm presence engulfed her.

It was a presence she knew all too well, one she had joined with before Hanuman in a ceremony that brought tears to her eyes. When she looked down at the large hands that had taken hold of her waist, a smile took over her face at the black ink embedded in the skin. His and her hands marked forever to solidify their union, just as her right hand held the same marks that decorated T’Challa’s skin. Her smile grew wider when he pulled her in tight and kissed her neck, his hands gripping the two strands of beads that decorated her waist given to her by her two husbands in a much more intimate exchange within the confines of her bedroom.

“You were great up there, my sweet,” M’Baku rumbled into the crook of her neck, and Zora sighed into the deep vibrations.

“How would you know? You missed my speech.”

“Dembe recorded on their beads so I could still watch you.”

Zora turned around in his arms and cupped his bearded face in her hands.

“I wish you could’ve been there with me.”

M’Baku kissed her deeply.

“I do, too.”

Zora reached for his hand and led him to her favorite bench in the entire garden. It had been carved from the trunk of an ancient tree that fell during an unseasonably powerful storm that blew through the night Shuri was born and placed in a secluded corner of the gardens. The carpenter paid extra close attention to detail when they made it, and Zora couldn’t help but feel drawn to it every time she entered the green space. So much so that M’Baku and T’Challa regularly found her escaping her duties by reclining on that very bench and soaking up the fresh air in silence.

“I have missed you, Zora,” M’Baku mumbled, his lips dusting over Zora’s knuckles as he planted soft kisses on her inked skin.

Zora’s lips met his before she could even think to preserve her makeup, and not seconds later, she was straddling his lap… until the sound of a shutter pierced the air, and a rustling of leaves forced them apart.

Next chapter

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heart4gyu · 2 years

Text

friends date pt.2 || nicholas x reader

note: finally right? it’s been like ages since pt.1 but i finally got around to finishing this ^_^ hope you enjoy give me some feedback i always love to hear it !! (also i didn’t proofread i just wanted to post this already aaah)

wc: 2,533 words

as you walked along side each other, you tried to stay involved in the conversation but you really couldn’t stop thinking of what your mom had said. ‘make him your boyfriend already’ she had to be joking. how could she say that? he was your best friend, for years, basically your whole life. and in what way did y’all act like a couple? you literally just acted like friends… whatever, just let it go, she doesn’t understand. no one needed to understand your relationship with nicholas except you and him, and that’s all you needed. “you okay?” he said, interrupting your thoughts. “hm? oh yeah i’m fine, my mom was just being… weird,” you said, laughing it off awkwardly. “oh uh, you wanna talk about it?” he offered but you just shook your head and he let it go. he knew you well enough to know that if you wanted to tell him you would, sooner or later.

you tried to not think about it too much because you knew he’d notice. “so where are we going this time?” you asked, trying to get back to your usual self. "hmm..." he started, staring up at the sky pretending to think about it, "it's a surprise." you chuckled, looking down at the ground, and he looked down at you beside him with the sweetest smile that you just so happened to miss. "oh i bet i’ll be so surprised,” you said, sarcastically. there really wasn’t anywhere you hadn’t taken each other. after all these years, you knew every single one of each others favorite spots. but you could never get bored of any of them, or maybe you’d just never get bored of him…"come on, we're almost there," he said, holding his arm out for you to link yours. you hesitated but took his offer quickly, giving him a smile as to not give yourself away. he always did that, that's how you always walked with him, especially in crowded places. it's normal, friends link arms. you and nicholas are friends who link arms. though, what wasn’t quite normal, was the feeling in your stomach when his skin came into contact with yours. not to be cliche but you felt butterflies in your stomach as you walked so closely to him.

the walk after that wasn’t too long. everything in the city was pretty close, you tried to figure out where he was taking you. you’d already passed up most of your favorite arcades, so no, and the science museum was your favorite but he passed it up too. the zoo wasn’t too far from here just on the other side of the big local park in the center of downtown. “hey, i said surprise, stop trying to figure it out,” he said, waving a hand in front of your face. you laughed, swatting his hand away, “okay okay.” “it’s this way,” he said, turning toward where the zoo was. maybe you were right, you hadn’t been to the zoo in a while. you smiled to yourself, proudly, there hadn’t been a time when you hadn’t guessed correctly where he was taking you. then he suddenly came to a stop, and was pulling the door of a huge building open. “wait- i thought we were going to the zoo,” you said, kind of off guard. he smiled, “nope, you guessed wrong. one point for me.” you rolled your eyes and looked around still trying to figure out where he’d brought you. you’d never been here before and the building was unfamiliar, despite you and nicholas having seen most of the city. the lights were dim and it was cold, you could make out waves and ripples painted onto the wall though. “here, sit here while i get our passes,” he said, walking you over to a bench at the side of the room. he got in line and your gaze found the reception desk, finally noticing to blue led letters behind the employees. aquarium. you smiled to yourself, feeling a blush rise up in your cheeks. you had sent him a tiktok a couple weeks ago of one of the biggest aquariums in the world. it was beautiful and you added that you had never been to one before. but honestly you thought he didn’t take the time to watch all the tiktoks you sent him daily or even read your replies. you almost teared up at the thought of someone caring so much.

a couple minutes passed before he came back holding both wristbands in his hand. when you noticed him coming back, you stood up taking a couple steps toward him. you smiled shyly, and he returned it taking your hand to put your wristband on. “were you surprised?” he asked, looking up at you while he adjusted the band. “yeah, i’ve never been to an aquarium before,” you said, smiling fondly at him. “i know, i remember you told me so i wanted to be the first one to bring you,” he said, handing you his band. his hand was warm when you brought it up to wrap the band around his wrist. “hm, well who else would want to bring me,” you scoffed, lightheartedly. you kept your head low to hide the embarrassment dusting your cheeks, but the look he had in his eyes was not one of pity. he looked at you with stars in his eyes, you’d have to be an idiot to not see how much he adored you. you looked back up at him once you were finished, taking a step away from him toward the double doors. but he stopped you, taking hold of one of your hands, pulling you back a bit. “y/n, anyone would be happy to bring you,” he said, taking a step toward you. he looked at you and you could tell he wanted to say something but he didn’t. he stared at his hand holding yours, then intertwined your fingers. you felt goosebumps from his hand being completely connected to yours. “guess i just always get to be the lucky one,” he said, looking back up at you. your faces only an inch or two away from each other but neither of you moved away for a couple of seconds. you’d never felt tension like this, not with him at least. you kind of hoped he’d lean in some more, or confess something to you in that moment. he backed up and gave you a small smile, and you couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes as he walked you through the entrance.

it was nice, there wasn’t too many people but just enough to fill the silence with quiet conversations. there was a long hallway with marine life facts before the first room. once you entered, the first tank was huge, taking up the whole wall. there was a family and a couple in the room with you. the kids sitting pointing up at the tank and the couple sitting on a bench, leaning into each other. you looked down at your intertwined hands again. finally you looked up into the tank and it was almost like you were inside the tank because of how large it was. you watched the fish make their rounds around the tank, the larger animals taking longer than the small ones. you gasped softly when you saw a small shark making it’s way around. “look, a shark,” you said, only loud enough for him to hear. you pointed excitedly with the hand that wasn’t holding his. “want a picture with it?” he said, letting go of your hand and scooting back quickly when you nodded. he took out his phone and you posed pointing up at the shark before it could move away. he snapped a few, then looked down at his phone, satisfied. he moved beside you to show you the pictures, placing his other hand on your back as you swiped through. you flinched at his touch but not enough for him to notice. what was up with you today? he was always like this with you. both of you were, you were both touchy. but friends are touchy, it’s fine that’s how people show their love. but if you were only his friend and he was like this with you does that mean he’s like this with his other friends? no. no this is not jealousy. you weren’t jealous because he’s just your friend. and it’s okay if he’s touchy with you and it’s okay if he’s touchy with his other friends too… except you still felt somewhat bothered by the thought. you looked up at him and he looked back at you, staying like that for a second. you were close again, really close and you felt yourself leaning towards him. in that moment you almost forgot where you were and that there were other people in the room with you. you blushed again as you took a step back, “uh yeah, they look nice,” you said, hurriedly walking past him, toward the next room.

you spent the rest of your time avoiding his touch, like when your hands brushed past each other as you walked or when you both tried to pet the same stingray. and of course, he noticed. he noticed something was off since he picked you up but he didn’t want to force you to tell him. “you sure you’re okay?” he said, sitting beside you on the small wooden bench. you had decided to stop and take a break, finding vending machines near the bathrooms. he handed you a water bottle and you drank from it before answering. “yeah i’m fine,” you smiled at him as you handed him the bottle. he nodded, as he took a sip from it too. indirect kiss. you looked away, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious. “the hallway before the last room is made completely of glass, like a semi-cylinder, i think you’ll really like it,” he said, as he stood. he held his hand out for you to grab it so you did. “you’ve been here before?” you asked, feeling shy all of sudden. “yeah, my mom brought me a couple of times,” he said, leading you towards the next area. you nodded, but for some reason, you felt relieved. the doorway leading into the hallway that nicholas mentioned was glowing, much brighter than the rest of the aquarium. once you stepped in you were in awe, it was like nothing you’d ever seen before. the fish were swimming all around you and the water cast these wonderful shadows onto the floor beneath you. “it’s beautiful,” you said, as you continued walking. he stayed behind as you went on, not knowing where to look. too many colorful animals and plants to choose from. you reached up trying to touch the curving glass above you but you could just barely graze it. “yeah, beautiful,” he said, but when you looked back at him he wasn’t looking up at the tank like you were. he was looking at you. you both blushed when you made eye contact for a split second. then both of you looked away abruptly, trying to find anything else to look at.

you made it through the hall and into the last room. looking around quickly, and taking a couple pictures. but when you exited the aquarium, you didn’t hold hands or link arms like you usually did. you just walked silently, side by side, onto the deck outside. it looked over the ocean and the sun was setting as you made it out. you both stopped at the edge to watch the sunset, folding your arms over the wooden rail. “did you call me beautiful in there?” you finally spoke after a few minutes of silence. he groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “i couldn’t help it, i’m sorry, it was weird,” he said, his face still buried in his hands and you laughed. “no it wasn’t weird… it was kinda sweet,” you said and he looked back up at you. he watched your face for any sign that you didn’t really mean it but you just smiled. “… no one’s ever said that to me,” you said, making him raise his eyebrows, beyond shocked. “like ever? how?” he said, standing up straight from his previous hunched over position. “well just my parents or friends when i’m all dressed up, but never just like that,” you said, looking down at the water under the deck. the sun was gone now just leaving the moons reflection on the dark water, but you could still see and hear the small waves washing in. “well you are beautiful… everyday, just like that,” he said, turning his body to face you now. you just smiled at him with your head resting on your hand. he knew you weren’t good at taking compliments, never really believed anyone when they praised you. you always have half-hearted ‘thank you’s or smiles that didn’t reach your eyes. so when he took a step into your personal space and placed a hand under your chin, he just wanted to show you that he was being genuine from the bottom of his heart. “i really mean it y/n,” he said, looking directly into your eyes. the bright, yellow lights that were hung across the pier making your eyes shine just slightly more than they usually did. he didn’t just think you were beautiful, he knew it and he was mesmerized by you right now just like he always was. your chest felt tight as you placed your hand above his on your cheek, leaning into his warmth. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, and when you looked up at him again, you were sure. with your other hand, you pulled him down until his lips came into contact with yours. and you kissed him, like you never thought you’d want to kiss anyone. his lips were soft and gentle as they moved against yours. after a minute, he pulled away and placed your hand on his chest. “my heart’s gonna explode,” he said, making you laugh because his heart was in fact beating so fast. he placed his forehead on yours and closed his eyes, unable to contain the smile that remained on his lips. “you don’t know how long i’ve waited for you to do that,” he said, barely above a whisper. so you kissed him again, this time more passionately. “then i won’t ever make you wait again,” you replied, just as quietly. now he took his turn to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he smiled into the kiss. and when you lost count of how many times he kissed you and you kissed him, he walked you home. with your arm wrapped around his except this time it wasn’t in a “friends” way and you didn’t even try to deny it. you leaned into him and he kissed the top of your head and every single thing about this felt right. the only thing you were worried about now was how you would explain this all to your mom…

#heart4gyu #violetsblog #kpop #jpop #&team #nicholas #&team nicholas #wang yixiang #nicholas x reader #nicholas imagine #nicholas fanfic #&team x y/n #&team imagines #&team x reader #&team soft hours #&team scenarios #&team fluff #&team drabbles

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standbyme-shit · 2 months

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Let’s talk about my little fic I’m writin for Stand by Me/The Goonies.

This is such a fun AU that I love fuckin around with but I haven’t really been writing that much for it which is sad but what can you do

• so I’ve deCIDED. That Teddy Duchamp is Mouth Devereaux’s uncle. Uncle Teddy.

• this fic would take place during the Goonies movie okay

• I like to think that Richard Chambers, being the stupid fucker that he is, made a big huge ultra mega incredibly dumb mistake and got some girlfriend of his pregnant and was like “well shit. Can’t do the responsible thing and better myself for this kid. Not as long as my name is EYEBALL CHAMBERS. No no no honey I’m gonna drop this thing off with my brother and his twink roommate”

• so that’s what he does. Leaves a kid in front of the door to Chris and Gordie’s apartment in NY with a note that says nothing but “don’t want it. Yours now. - Eyeball” and Chris is like “what in the everloving fuck”

• but Gordie is ecstatic???

• bro’s like “A BABY? FOR FREE??? WE ARE KEEPING HER CHRISTOPHER”

• the birth of Robyn(Bobby because Chris js despises “Robby” for some reason idk he’s a diva w names) Denise Chambers

• get it. Get it. Denise like Dennis Because Denny because Gordie’s dead brother

• anyways.

• IN A WORLD. WHERE DOROTHY LACHANCE DIVORCES HER FUCK KNUCKLE OF A HUSBAND IN THE YEAR 1985

• guess where she moves. Guess.

• like right outside the Goon Docks. Where it ain’t considered part of the town so her house don’t get torn down by what’s-his-fuck

• aNYWAYS. Bobby and her parents are helpin Grandma Lachance move and then she’s like “hey. I got a friend/extended family member that lives like five minutes from here” and tells her parents that she gon go find Mouth and they’re like “okay you do that”

• so begins the whole plot of Goonies but Bobby just does not wanna be there whatsoever

• she’s just like “holy fuck guys I just wanna leave what the hell” the ENTIRE TIME

• pulls the “my dad’s a lawyer” card when the Fratelli family literally be threatening their lives

• they’re like “you aren’t gonna make it out of here alive” or “we’re gonna kill you when we get to you” and Bobby just fuckin scoffs and is like “my dad is one of the best lawyers in New York. He’ll DESTROY your ass”

• city girl is NOT afraid to talk back to these ruthless criminals istg it’s a fatal personality trait

• best thing tho. The whole time, nobody else involved in this whole thing knows how Mouth and Bobby know each other. Like at all

• they just be talkin about ‘that one time five years ago’ and everyone’s like “if y’all ain’t related then what the fuck” because they’ve literally never met Bobby and Mouth’s lived in Astoria his literal entire life

• at the end of the movie when the kids are being reunited with their parents and family and all that, Bobby goes to her parents and our boy Michael Walsh flips his absolute shit because one of his all time favorite authors is this random chick’s father

• Mouth starts talking to Chris and Gordie and they’re all just catching up and Mikey’s hyperventilating because now one of his best friends somehow knows Gordon Lachance???? They’re just acting like old friends that haven’t seen each other in a couple months????

That’s. All I have really. At least right now. But I love this AU and wanna write it but honestly with what fucking motivation because I haven’t seen it anywhere

#stand by me #chris chambers #gordie lachance #teddy duchamp #lachambers #vern tessio #the goonies #i’m starting a bobby chambers tag because i WILL be writing for her more so #bobby chambers #i love her she’s such a shit

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meteors-lotr · 11 months

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Lotr/The Hobbit Pokémon AU

We havin’ fun here

Y’all knew this was coming, because I told you it was

A few years ago, I actually made a Pokémon AU for the Bardlings, and I will be using the same teams now, just with a few additions.

Not every character will be included, because there’s just so much I can do, but if you have any ideas for teams of a character who wasn’t included here, then feel free to share! Same goes if you have any other suggestions for the teams I made

They’re all grouped into the people they travel with, because the idea of them all traveling alone makes me sad. The gym leaders will be at the end of the post, and they will all have full teams but like they’d be changed around depending on what order they actually are in.

Also, I do not know who the champion is. Maybe it’s Manwë, maybe it’s Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

Frodo Baggins, Traveler - Umbreon, Joltik, Kecleon, Sableye, Honedge, Bagon

The nephew/adopted son of the gym leader of Shire City, the Step-Nephew(?) of the gym leader of Erebor City, and the brother/cousin of the gym leaders of Dale City, Frodo lives under constant pressure. Growing up in Shire City, there was a certain expectation that he would one day become a gym leader himself like the rest of his family, or at least a great battler. Frodo is not. He’s too soft to be a battler, he doesn’t like to see his Pokémon hurt, he’s forgetful of moves, he’s just not that good at it. The reason he’s traveling is less because he has a goal, and more because he wants to avoid people (He’s like his uncle in many ways).

Samwise Gamgee, Cook in training - Espeon, Mudsdale, Lycanroc Dusk Form, Floette, Greedent, Diglett

Born and raised in Shire city, has been the best friend with Frodo since they were three, and has been in love with Frodo since they were four. He understands Frodo’s plight with his family, and he does anything to help and support him in any way he can. Travels both to help his bro, but also to see the world and learn about new and exotic plants. He’s very curious about both botany and cuisine, so he takes in as much as he can.

Merry Brandybuck, Pokémon Coordinator - Gogoat, Pancham, Thievul, Bibarel, Galarian Zigzagoon, Minun

A boy of Shire city, Merry is a clever but very stupid lad. Thing is, Merry likes battling. He’s not bad either. But he also just really fucking likes showing off, and cool move effects and big explosions. Contests give you all of that. Man’s a brilliant battler, with a lot of good strategies and ways to combine his Pokémon’s moves to make for some beautiful creations, but the place he falls is just that he has no fucking idea on what is good against what. It’s not just the type charts, but also simple stuff like stats. He usually helps his mate Pippin in any way he can with his battling, as he would never be able to make it in an actual battle.

Pippin Took, Pokémon trainer - Breloom, Spinda, Sudowoodo, Swinub, Zigzagoon, Plusle

This Shire City boy may be dumb af, but by god he is trying alright? He’s attempting to be a trainer, but he can be a bit “uncreative” when it comes to strategies. The angel/devil on his shoulder Merry is the only reason he’s getting anywhere. At least he’s very caring about his lil guys.

•

Aragorn Eveningstar, Pokémon ranger in training - Empoleon, Aegislash, Sceptile, Scizor, Marowak, Galarian Farfetch’d

The adopted son of the Rivendell City gym leader. Fricking stacked trainer, honestly, with a strong and relatively balanced team. He’s always been more interested in Pokémon rangers though, with their goal to preserve nature and protect rare Pokémon. He’s had a few (rather strange) run ins with legendary and mythical Pokémon before as well. He’s still a bit away from applying to be a ranger though, mostly because he still has a lot he wants to see and do. Rather cliche, but he wants to find himself.

Legolas Greenleaf, aspiring gym leader - Decidueye, Leafeon, Hisuian Lilligant, Formantis, Serperior, Abomasnow

Guess three times what his favorite typing is. The Mirkwood city gym has been in his family for many generations, and he’s determined to be the next one in line. He enjoys the free spirited nature and wildness of grass types, the way they can survive in any climate through adaptation. He’s absolutely smitten with Aragorn, partly just because he wants to protect nature and partly because, have you fricking seen Aragorn

Gimli Gloinson, Pokémon trainer - Tinkaton, Kleavor, Golett, Alolan Golem, Emboar, Froslass

Gimli is a trainer from Erebor city, but he has family all over the fricking region. Wherever they travel, he will have a relative there, even in this remote ass village in the woods, or this strange house atop a mountain. He's a big fan of Pokémon who look really bulky and tough, even though they sometimes aren't. Froslass was an accident, he meant to evolve her into a Glalie, but she accidentally came in contact with a dawn stone, but she's his baby. He may not look it, but he spoils his Pokemon absolutely rotten.

•

Boromir Minas-Tirith, Pokémon trainer - Bisharp, Aegislash, Samurott, Litwick, Luxray, Weavile

The older brother of the Gondor city gym leader, though he was set to inherit the gym after his father. He'd wanted to be a traveling pokémon trainer since he was young though, so he entrusted it to the person he trusts the most. He traveled alone for a long time, occasionally meeting and battling his friendly rival Aragorn, but then a short but hot headed girl started following him around, so you know there's that. He travels home a lot to watch his little brother battle and cheer him on more often than not.

Tilda Dragon, Pokémon Trainer - Sawsbuck, Flareon, Braixen, Shiny Dartrix, Phantump, Druddigon

A girl from Dale City, Tilda is less traveling and battling in an attempt to actually take on the champion, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and more to just get out there. Sometimes just skips the middle man when battling Pokémon, and just starts punching them herself. She’s a hazard to people and Pokémon alike, but mostly she’s a hazard to herself. A weird friendship with Boromir, but they make it work somewhat.

•

Bain Dragon, Pokémon Trainer - Mudsdale, Vaporeon, Shiny Liepard, Lycanroc, Sobble, Crobat

Bain is from Dale City, and he lost his eyes to a Sableye when he was young. Having always dreamt of becoming a Pokémon trainer, Bain’s dreams were crushed as without his eyesight, he could no longer see the battling before him. At least that’s what you’d think. But Bain learnt to fight without his eyes, going off his other senses instead, mainly hearing and feeling. He’s known throughout the Middle Earth region, and is an inspiration to many young trainers with disabilities.

(Also he travels with his partners Vivian and Kamarind (OCs), but I’m not bothering with giving both of them full teams. Kami does have a lot of water Pokémon tho, and Vivi has a Smeargle)

•

Sigrid Dragon, traveling nurse - Jolteon, Stoutland, Blissey, Noctowl, Milotic, Alcreime

Sigrid is the oldest of the ‘dragon children’, and has always been a very maternal to her siblings since the death of their mother. Because of Tilda’s habit of straight up fist fighting Pokémon, and Bain’s wounded eyes, she had to pick up the healers skill that is mostly reserved for the Joy family. She studied under Dale City’s Nurse Joy so she could help her siblings, but once they both left on their journeys, she became kinda lost. Until she realized, that while most people know a lot about how to heal a Pokémon (and even if not, there’s a Pokémon center in every city, town, and village), human healing is a less honed craft. So she travels across the region, helping out and educating as many people as she can. She knows absolutely nothing about how to heal Pokémon though, her Blissey is better at that.

(Sigrid also travels with Tauriel, but her team hasn’t been made yet. I will gladly take suggestions tho)

•

Gandalf Gray, the disturber of peace - Shiny Delphox, Hisuian Braviary, Hatterene, Rabsca, Galarian Rapidash, Cosmog

No one knows what’s going on with this dude. He’s incredibly powerful, yet he almost never battles (apart from with his ex husband that is). He just sorta wanders around, giving unhelpful advice to people, and encourages people to go on a journey. Also, a lot of the older generation knew him when they themself were kids, and he looks he exact same, so he might just be immortal

•

And here comes the gym leaders. They are in no particular order, and they all have full teams what can be switched around and changed depending on what order you yourself choose to start in.

•

Thorin Oakenshield, Steel types - Perrserker, Skarmory, Aggron, Bronzong, Archaludon, Kingambit

The gym leader of Erebor city, who looks very intimidating and majestic, but is a huge family man. Erebor City gym has always had a…reputation, mainly cause his grandfather went mad running it, overtraining his Pokémon and refusing to give out badges to people who beat him, and it was abandoned by his father and taken over by a fire trainer named Smaug for man years, but Thorin is adamant in that he can run it. He struggles with holding back when people come to his gym first, so it’s usually recommended that his is one of the later ones, but he’s gotten better at it. Happily married to the Shire City gym leader, and sometimes his gym is closed for a few weeks just cause he wants to visit his husband. Never during league season though.

•

Bilbo Baggins, Normal types - Kangaskhan, Snorlax, Ursaring, Buneary, Cinccino, Furfrou

The gym leader of Shire city, who looks very sweet and kind, but is about as stubborn as they come. His mother was a very famous traveler and explorer, and while he did do some travel in his youth (it’s how he met his husband), but he never quite had his mother’s spirit. He likes normal types for the simplicity of them, sure sometimes more fantastical Pokémon can be nice and cool, but you know what to expect with a normal type. During off league season, he run a small bakery, mostly for the fun of it. Also his Buneary hates his guts and refuses to evolve.

•

Elrond Eveningstar, Water types - Milotic, Quaquaval, Starmie, Lapras, Kingdra, Lanturn

Elrond is not just the gym leader of Rivendell City, but also the ‘lord’ of it, unofficial title. Rivendell has always been seen as a very welcoming and comforting city, especially to travelers, and no one embodies this better than Elrond. Despite being a strong trainer, Elrond tends to go a little too easy on new trainers. If you’re an experienced one he will not go easy on you though. His twin sons work in the gym as gym trainers, and they’re both pretty good at putting up a challenge for newer trainers, so it evens out for the most part.

•

Galadriel Galadrhim, Flying types - Altaria, Masquerain, Togekiss, Swanna, Sensu Oricorio, Mandibuzz

Every single forum discussing the gym challenge has agreed on one thing about the Lothlórien City gym leader, DO NOT TAKE HER ON FIRST. Galadriel is fully capable to becoming the champion, defeating even the legendary Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, but has too much passion for her city and gym. But she is stupidly strong, never dare underestimate.

•

Thranduil Greenleaf, Fairy types - Grimmsnarl, Shiinotic, Florges, Mawile, Sylveon, Alolan Ninetails

Mirkwood city gym isthe oldest still standing gym in all the region, and it’s been in the same family for that entire time. Thranduil has a lot of pride for his heritage, which can make him a bit of an intimidating person. He seems to be this regal, opposing figure, but in reality he’s just a very sassy drama queen. He has a throne in his gym that he sprawls out on between battles, dressing dramatically to match with his Pokémon, man wears a crown for Arceus sake. Absolutely adores his scraggy ass husband as well.

•

Faramir Minas-Tirith, Fighting types - Bewear, Falinks, Primape, Tauros blaze breed, Medicham, Scrafty

The extremely surprising gym leader of Gondor, as it was believed that his older brother would take over the gym. He struggles a lot with being the unexpected choice and the newest gym leader, and while his brother supports him as much as he can he is gone for the most part, out on a journey. He likes fighting types because they’re strong and resilient, despite all the hardships they face. All of his team are softies for him (Even Primape and Tauros, two naturally aggressive Pokémon), and Falinks especially has taken him in as their seventh member.

•

Sauroman White, Ghost types - Mismagius, Dusknoir Hisuian Zoroark, Sinistcha, Spiritomb, Gourgeist

Isengard city’s gym leader is known for two things. One, he is incredibly old fashioned in his battling style, refusing to ever change up his tactics and strategies. He frowns upon the new “Tera Types”, and “dynamax forms”, and all that. Back in the day, your Pokémon remained normal sized and normal typed, and we liked it! Two, he managed to fumble the region’s most iconic and famous person. Big L.

•

Fíli and Kíli Oakenshield, Duo trainers - Amped Toxtricity, Shiny Flapple, Armarouge (Fíli) Low Key Toxtricity, Shiny Appletun, Ceruledge (Kíli)

After former Dale city gym leader, Bard Dragon, retired, the two nephews of the neighboring city’s gym leader took over. Fíli and Kíli are two peas in a pod, fully inseparable. Their battling is so in sync it’s almost scary to witness, and many people struggle when facing them because of it. Outside of battle they are very boyish and loud, finding jokes in anything then witness. They enjoy teasing their brother/cousin, but when it comes down to it they’d protect him with their heart and soul.

•

Like I said, I don’t have many ideas for most other characters, but I know I want Éowyn to have a Glastier and Éomer to have a Spectrier.

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rodolfoparras · 7 months

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I got a low score on my exam 😞 and I dropped my grade down like it's not my fault I'm dyslexic this is why I like math more it's easier. Also, I got a new doctor for now cause my doctor is on holiday and I don't like them I felt very off. Also is it weird that I'm scared to shave like I've always been big on hygiene and grooming is sort of big for me I'm more on the hairy side but I do trim not too much but enough but I'm scared to go anywhere near my private parts cause I'm scared I will get botched. Also, I kinda miss my dog Pongo it's very close to his death anniversary I miss the little pup. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing something wrong but I don't know what. I feel like I'm gonna be single forever sometimes I love both aspects of a relationship romantic and sexual but it is very hard for me to feel relief from the sexual aspect like I'm never satisfied which sucks I've never had many partners cause I'm more of an in it for the long run type of guy so I only ever had 2 partners and one of them was non-sexual cause we never reached that part. Not only that but I get sad cause I want to have a family of my own someday but I can't cause I like guys and guys can't get pregnant I also want to live on a nice farm or modern cabin someday while having an apartment or house in the city. But I have been going to the gym mainly to build muscle cause I used to be a twig.

- ❤️‍🔥

Sugar I am so sorry your grade dropped but please don’t beat yourself up! Dealing with dyslexia isn’t easy. I’ve always known what dyslexia is but it wasn’t until I was peer grading another classmates paper that I realized that y’all have it fucking hard.

When it comes to doctors I know it isn’t easy to pick and choose your health care professionals but I’d be like ok does this doctor listen to my needs does this doctor help me as long as those boxes are ticked that’s all it matters bc I assume you’ll only meet them limited amount of times? Either way just make sure the doc is doing their job

In terms of shaving there are tutorials on tiktok on how to shave down there I unfortunately didn’t save the video bc this was months ago but I know there’s a YouTuber who does shaving tutorials !!

He went viral for shaving his ass on camera but he genuinely gives good shaving / hygiene advice !

Is it okay to ask when pongo passed away? You see my moms death anniversary is March 28 and I’m sure she’ll happily arrange a party for him 😌

But the loss of a pet isn’t always easy and I know it’s not like losing a relative so I’m giving you all the kisses and hugs and wishing you sm strength and love!!!

The feeling about doing something wrong but not knowing what it is, it’s a very common feeling!! It can be that we have a lot of expectations and goals bubbling under the surface and it feels like we could be doing so much more but I’m genuinely not being cheesy when I say that being alive is enough like I promise you with everything in me

In terms of relationships,a tip I do have is to wait with the sex, yes you’re in it for the long haul but meet as many people as possible without trying to make it sexual

One day you’ll meet someone you click with and whatever you do will become so much more elevated because you’ve spent time getting to know each others likes and dislikes etc

Also sugar it’s very much possible nowadays for gay men to have a family! You can have surrogate you can adopt! There are so many ways!

Also you sound just like my dad his dream is to retire and live on the country side!

Also hello let’s go!! I’ve started going to the gym as well I even have a personal trainer to keep me accountable 😭

#alec answers #❤️‍🔥 anon

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thelanders23 · 11 months

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Our story ♡

A few weeks ago, Lyle and I celebrated 3 years of marriage. It’s crazy how fast it goes y’all. Feels like just a few months ago we got engaged and moved in to our house. I just don’t understand where the time goes. I thought I should share our story to y’all. It’s long so buckle in :)

After I graduated High school, I went to junior college for my the first part of my Nursing degree. During this time, I was still living with my momma. She always struggled with substance abuse and after my brother passed away in a motorcycle accident my freshman year, it got worse. I tried really hard to get her better but to no avail. It got really toxic towards the end of my time at junior college. I decided that if my momma couldn’t get better, than I had to distance myself.

I looked for colleges to attend for my RN for months. I wanted something new and far from my hometown in East Texas. I found that. There was a college out in West Texas. It was a technical institute. I was nervous. The college was in New Crest, which is quite a big town. I didn’t wanna live anywhere big, so I found a trailer out in a small town, Chestnut Ridge. Where we live now.

I quickly got two jobs, one as a CNA at a local nursing home and one as a cashier at a gas station. I worked whatever shifts I could while still being a nursing student. Most of the time I was picking up shifts at the gas station because most of my free time was in the mornings and that’s what needed covered most.

I met Lyle while working at the gas station. Because I was new to town, didn’t know that Lyle’s family owned the ranch down the road. Or that Lyle came from a pretty prominent family of Chestnut Ridge. Charles and Mae, Lyle’s parents, are on the city council, they are apart of the booster club at the High School, and Mae runs a family owned bakery on Main Street. He definitely came from a different background than I did. Lyle was known by everybody in town, but I only knew him as the cute, cowboy who came in every morning.

I secretly had a small crush on him, but I never thought of asking him out or anything. We simply small talked during transactions and that was it. Til’ one morning. I rang up his usual drink and he just smiled. I smiled back, taking the money he was handing me. He softly chuckled and said “Now Miss, I don’t do this often. But I’ve been staring at you for weeks now. I think it’s time I tell ya that I’d really like to take ya out.” It was simple, but effective. I found his deep southern accent cute and he made me blush.

Although we came from different backgrounds, we instinctively clicked. It only took one date. We truly became inseparable. If I wasn’t working or at class, I was with Lyle. Soon I was meeting his friends, parents and siblings. I became apart of the family almost immediately.

We got engaged in April, 6 months later. It might have been fast, but it was a mix of young love and “when ya know, ya know”. Everyone knew how crazy we were for each other, that it never really a shock anyone with how fast our relationship was moving. We got married and about a 2 and a half years later, we welcome Rhett into our lives.

After all this time, I still get nervous around him. Still blush when he says things in his cute southern drawl. The only feelings that have changed is the love we share. It just grows more and more everyday ♡

#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 story #sims4 stories #sims 4 poses #my sims #sims 4 realistic

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simthorium · 1 year

Text

Luna’s senior internship was going very differently than Jordyn’s. She was working with her Aunt Kamaria in the city government, and things weren’t going too well. “Luna, focus!” Kamaria said. “Put your phone away and listen.” “I am listening,” Luna muttered, still looking down at her phone. “This is serious,” said Kamaria. “We’re canvassing for voters, and you need to be really detail oriented. We want to get an accurate count. And what the hell are you wearing?” “Provocative clothing will help sway voters,” Luna said. “Duh.” “God,” Kamaria muttered. “Let’s just get started.”

Luna headed downstairs, not really feeling this whole thing. She loved hanging out in Midtown for the babes, not for political canvassing. Holding a clipboard did not look very sexy, she thought. Before she could internally grumble at herself anymore, she spotted a particularly handsome guy and sidled up to him.

“Hi,” she said in her sweetest voice. “Are you registered to vote by chance?” “Why, you tryna get my number?” the guy asked, shaking her hand. “Something like that,” Luna said.

“You’re a fraud!” Mrs. Crumplebottom screeched at Kamaria, who was seated outside. “I don’t want my tax dollars going to some stupid train project!? That’s fascism!” Kamaria sighed; she was so over this. As Mayor of SimCity, she knew it was going to be a hard sell to convince voters that her inter-neighborhood train project was worth the price, but there were always grouches like Mrs. Crumplebottom who refused to listen to reason.

“Thank you for your input,” Kamaria said. “I’ll certainly take that into account.” “You better keep your hands off my account!” Mrs. Crumplebottom said. “No, I said I’ll take it into--never mind,” Kamaria muttered.

Luna and Kamaria had been canvassing for an hour, but the only person Luna had even talked to was the hot guy with a manbun. It didn’t take long for them to start full on making out. Kamaria spotted her niece from the corner of her eye and groaned; this was going to be the longest internship ever.

Before Kamaria could even make her way over to Luna, Mrs. Crumplebottom was smacking her with her purse. “Decorum, young lady!” Mrs. Crumplebottom shouted, swinging the weirdly heavy purse into Luna’s shoulders and head. “Ouch!” Luna said, pushing her away. “Keep away from me, crazy!”

“God, being a political operative is so hard,” Luna said, rubbing her head. “That’s not what that means,” her cousin Caleb said from behind her. “Having such a big family is so annoying,” she muttered. “I can’t go anywhere without seeing one of y’all.” “It’s a blessing and a curse,” Caleb said with a shrug.

“Luna, you really need to get your shit together,” Kamaria said as they regrouped inside later on. “I know you might not think this is important, but the work we’re doing here is going to lay the groundwork for a lot of critical stuff in the future. I need you to do your job.” “It’d be a lot easier if that stupid old woman wasn’t lurking around all the time,” Luna said. “Can’t you write a bill to kick her out of the city or something?” Kamaria turned around to see Mrs. Crumplebottom staring at them.

“God, I wish,” Kamaria said. “You know how we can get her back?” “How?” Luna asked. “She thinks my train project sucks,” Kamaria explained. “If we blow this thing out of the water, she’ll have no choice to back off.” Luna thought about it for a moment. “Ok, let’s rock this shit,” she said, high-fiving Kamaria. “I hate you all,” Mrs. Crumplebottom muttered.

#Zarro legacy #generation 6 #generation 7 #Kamaria #Luna #work #i like the idea of them having college internships #i didn't have them do many tasks tho #maybe in the next gen

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Text

A June Wedding

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: alcohol and the consumption of

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: idk what this is, I opened the doc and just started typing, so yeah // the flashbacks are set two years ago, when y/n meets Buck. The end is back to the present

----

From B: I was thinking about you.

From B: I miss you.

The phone sat in your hand, you stared down at the message on the screen. It had been months, maybe longer since you met him- 2 years to be precise.

The two of you had a weird friendship to say the least. One of those “will they, won’t they?” kind of things. Everyone seemed to notice how the two of you were in love except the two of you.

Your story starts in a hole in the wall coffee shop two years ago, when Buck comes in after his first shift at the station.

*Two Years Before*

Tired and hungry was a typical look you saw among the folks who came to your shop. It was downtown LA and there were a lot of businesses around including station 118.

Among your typical morning crowd, there were people in suits and ties, the few hippies/skater crowd and your favourite, the fire-fighters.

They were your favourite not because they always had larger orders but they usually left big tips and were super sweet.

It was around 9 in the evening when the bell on the door chimed as it was pushed open. You were closing up for the day but the ‘come in, we’re open’ sign still hung on the window that was ideally supposed to be taken down an hour ago.

Pulling a tray of cookies from the oven, you were startled by the door considering that you thought you locked the door. Peering from the doorway of the kitchen, there was a man by the counter, staring up at the menu board.

“Hi,” you smile, hesitantly stepping towards the counter from the kitchen. He glances down at you and smiles, mumbling a hello.

“Uh, we’re actually closed right now.” you inform him.

His brows furrow, glancing over his shoulder at the window. “But the sign-” “I forget to take it down.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I’ll- okay, I'm gonna go.” he looked.. disappointed. He pulls a phone out his pocket and sighs. You take that moment to study him. A grey sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, there’s a hat sitting backwards on his head and a duffle bag tossed over his shoulder. As he turns to leave, you notice the 4 letters written on his hat in bright red - LAFD.

“Hey!” you call out, “You’re a firefighter ?”

The blonde smiles and nods, “yeah, I started today actually. The guys at the station were talking about the coffee shop down the street. I didn’t get a chance to come during the day so I thought I'd come now- but I can come back another time, you’re closed”

Waving off his statement, you pick up a cup from the counter. “Nonsense, I'd never turn away one of the city’s finest.” you smile, he chuckles. “The city’s finest is more of a cop thing.” he tells you.

“Is that so ?” asking, you begin looking through the fridge to see if there was any milk, he hums.

“I think you’re pretty fine yourself” you mumble, standing straight when you realize what you’ve said. Your back was to him, a blush burning up your face.

What you didn’t know was that Buck was blushing too, a pretty person like you calling him fine was surely going to make him blush and that it did.

Clearing your throat, you turn to face him again. He was looking anywhere but at you for the moment.

“What can I get you ?”

“What do you have right now ?”

“Just about everything, except for baked goods. I usually put those in the oven in the morning but I do have a tray of cookies if you’re interested.”

“That sounds good,” he smiles at you. “I’ll take a cookie and uh-” glancing up at the menu, “whatever is your favourite drink”

Humming, you turn and head to the kitchen to get two cookies for him and then begin mixing some coffee and creamer in a cup, along with ice and some caramel sauce. You ended up making two, one for him and one for you.

The man was sitting at one of the stools by the window. He was watching the cars drive past. “Here,” you slide the plate over to him and set the cup beside it.

He smiles, “thank you. How much do I owe you ?” he asks, reaching for what you assumed was his wallet. “Oh, don't worry about it. The register is locked and it’s your first time here, I wouldn’t have charged you anyways”

“You don’t charge first time customers ?”

“Only the firefighters, y’all hold a special place in my heart” you laugh, he smiles once more.

“Are you in a hurry to leave? I can take it with me if you are.”

“No, you're alright. The cookies are warm, I just took them out when you got here.” you sit beside him, taking a sip of your drink. He also takes a sip of his, you watch as his face twists and he smacks his tongue to try and figure out what it is.

“I call it the y/n special” filling him in, his brows furrow. “It’s basically just caramel ice coffee” a small laugh passes your lips as you take another sip.

“I’m y/n by the way.” “I’m Buck” he smiles.

From that day, Buck was a regular in your shop. You made him a regular coffee before his shifts, 2 cream and 3 sugars - you've come to realize he had a bit of a sweet tooth. After work, he’d stop by for an iced coffee and a cookie. You’d always keep some in the back for him.

This became a routine, you asked him for his number so he could let you know when he was on his way to work that way you’d have his coffee ready if he was running late.

Most mornings you’d just get an ‘coming’ or a little fire truck emoji letting you know he’s on his way to work.

Over the next year and a half, the two of you became close. All the guys that came in from the station always teased you about your “boyfriend Buck” although he wasn’t your boyfriend.

The two of you were close, you hung out all the time - when Buck had days off, he’d still stop by the shop for coffee or just to see you even though he lived in the opposite direction. He would also pick you up after work when you could walk home because you lived down the street.

You often stopped by the station when you knew they were on a 24 hour shift. Buck would text you hourly with whatever he was thinking about, especially during the nights when most of his team was asleep and he couldn’t. During those 24 hour shifts, the last few hours kicked their asses, everyone was tired and too lazy to move to do anything about it- those were the days that you headed into the shop early to get some stuff together to take over for them.

Over time, the affection between the two of you became clear to everyone but the two of you.

You only really noticed you liked him after his unfortunate run in with the fire truck and his promotion which you decide to celebrate with him.

There you were, a bottle of champagne in one hand and a bag of Thai takeout in the other - the perfect thing to celebrate his new- temporary as he kept reminding you- position.

He had invited you over to watch a movie but life was short as was recently reiterated after Buck’s “getting stuck under municipal equipment” phase as the two of you joke.

“Hey!” he smiles at you when he opens the door, immediately noticing the bottle of champagne in your hand.

“The nice stuff,” he hummed, stepping aside so you could come in. You set the bag on the counter with the bottle before venturing further into the kitchen to find glasses.

“What are we celebrating ?” he watches as you tumble through the cupboards.

“Y/n?” “What ?”

“What are we celebrating ?” he asks once more.

“Do you not own any champagne glasses ? All I can find are solo cups and those ugly ass mugs you have.” sighing, you grab the solo cups knowing his answer already.

“Y/n/n, I'm a 20-something year old guy living by himself-” “What makes you think I have such things?” finishing off the sentence for him which makes him laugh.

Setting the cups down on the counter, you push the bottle over to him. “Would you be so kind as to do the honours?” you hop onto the counter. Buck peels the casing from around the top and then shakes the bottle.

Your brows furrow, “that’s going to make a mess-” before you finish your sentence, the bottle pops.

The cork ends up somewhere in the apartment whilst the very expensive champagne is sprayed everywhere. Buck just so innocently titled the bottle your way, soaking you in the liquid.

Laughing, you pull the bottle away from him. He's standing in front of you when you grab his chin, pulling him towards you. Your left hand is cradling his jaw and leaning his head back to pour some of the champagne in his mouth. You over poured and split it on his shirt.

The two of you were a laughing, sticky mess and the bottle was already half way empty. He held the cups out for you, letting you pour some into each cup before handing you one.

“Okay, now will you tell me what prompted the champagne showers ?” he smiles, leaning against the counter next to you.

“Well, life is short. You’re a fire Marshall now so, I’m here to celebrate.”

Buck smiles at you, he wasn’t the biggest fan of his new job to be honest. Sure he liked it, but he’d do anything to be back out in the field.

Your arm stretched out, “So to you Mr. Evan Buckley, wait should I say Fire Marshall Buckley ? Anyways congratulations my love, you deserve the job but if the power goes to your head, I'm putting you in your place.” laughing, you bump your cup to his.

“To a speedy recovery and hoping for your return to the field soon because you’re driving everyone mad. Cheers!”

Both taking a sip before Buck hops up onto the counter beside you. He shifted slightly, making a gap between the two of you and pulling the bag of takeout to the spot. Dinner was had on the counter, eating straight out of the containers.

“Bobby would be so upset if he saw us right now.” Buck mumbles, his mouth full.

“Mhm but he’s not here. He doesn’t have to know.”

A few moments later, his phone began ringing. He pulls it out and his eyes widen. There’s a confused look on your face, waiting for him to give you some context or tell you who’s calling. Finally he shows you his phone.

Bobby is calling.

“You summoned him!” Buck shouted. You resisted the urge to laugh.

“Answer the phone!”

You watch as Buck answers the phone, holding back his laughter at the conversation moments ago. He looked happy, you loved seeing him like that. The way his eyes glimmered when he smiled that million dollar smile of his, how his curls showed when his hair was wet or if he hadn’t cut his hair in a while.

It was the little things that made you fall in love with him.

He was still on the phone when you decided you’d find something to change into.

He watched as you made your way to the bathroom, coming back out shirtless with a towel in your hand, drying off. He noticed the way you took a step every two steps like he does. He could hear you humming from upstairs, the way you went up in pitch when you saw something you liked or how you’d stop in-between to start whistling. He smiles to himself as he ends the call.

He too had fallen love with you somewhere along the line.

----

You watched as the little bubbles popped up on the screen on and off for the next few minutes.

Today was your wedding day.

You hadn’t spoken to him all day, things had been hectic. You promised to see him before you got married but truthfully, you had been so consumed with planning and making sure everything was ready that you didn’t get a chance to.

Your friend comes in, sticking their head in and smiling at you. “You ready ?” they ask, you hum before taking one more look at the phone.

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

It was a hot summer day in June, you and your fiancé had decided on an outdoor wedding considering you had always wanted a June wedding.

Standing at the end of the aisle, each side of the yard was filled with people you loved and cared about but your love was smiling at you on the verge of tears at the altar.

Resisting the urge to laugh at him, you smile as the music begins playing - your cue to make your way down the aisle. Making it to the end without tripping, you smile at him.

“Hey,” you smile, reaching for his hand.

“You look beautiful” he smiles, he leans forward to give you a kiss when a hand against his chest stops him.

Bobby gives him a disapproving look, “I’ll be fast but you gotta wait to the end to kiss them, Buck.” The statement earned him a laugh from the crowd.

The heat was getting to everyone including the two of you so Bobby skipped over the unnecessary parts, letting the two of you say your vows.

You started, your hand giving his a squeeze. “The day you walked into the shop, I thought ‘damn, I'm gonna die. Why do I always forget to lock the door?’ but little did I know, it was going to be the love of my life walking in. From the moment we sat down and started talking was the moment I knew you were the one- you made me smile, laugh, gave me butterflies but you also made me feel safe, like I could tell you anything and you’d always be there for me. I watched you walk out with the promise of coming back in the morning and I knew then, we were gonna have a June wedding.” you laughed.

“You taught me what love was, how to be happy, to never give up no matter what life throws my way because for the last 2 years, that’s what I've watched you do and I'm so incredibly proud to be marrying you. There’s no one else for me. It’ll always be you.” you smile, blinking back the tears.

“How am I supposed to compete with that ?” he hums, giving you a grin.

“Everything about you is.. perfectly imperfect, in every single sense of the term. You strive for perfection, but you come up with a slightly different version every time and I love that about you- like when you run out of breath while singing you start whistling so you don’t lose the melody, it’s the little things that make me love you. You hold the stars and the moon, you’re my whole world y/n, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You make me a better man and I could never thank you enough for that.” Both of you are about to cry, looking at each other with the most love and adoration in your eyes.

Bobby cuts to the end, both of you now impatient and waiting for him to announce that you were officially a couple and the moment he does, Buck pulls you towards him, kissing you like it was the last time he was ever going to.

The sound of clapping and cheering filled your ears, making you both smile as your made you way back down the aisle officially as the Buckleys.

----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13 @artemishunter18 @multibuckley

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1kook · 4 years

Text

disney+ & bust

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb. It’s not. It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. warnings; arguments, feelings of insecurity, bit of asshole jk, smut in the forms of degradation, dumbification, choking, fingering, spit kink, self punishment, unprotected but [ passionate ] sex, jk losing his cool, return of mean jk, he is actually an emotional mess in this one wtf miscellaneous; ANGST, anniversaries, the L word😳, app developer kook, rip ‘pretty girl’ </3, we all become phineas and ferb stans word count; 13k !!

notes; me: *writes couple who’s whole arc is being silly* y’all: MAKE THEM SUFFER GIVE US ANGST!! u ask I deliver so now we all suffer 😐 ngl it was hard writing this fic n u might notice there’s some parts that seem weird n that’s bc this was TWO fics w diff wording but I ended up mixing them bc I’m insane. still had a lot of fun! felt like I challenged myself!! not proofread bc when I say we suffer we SUFFER

please let me know what you think!!! a simple ask goes a long way <3

previous part: kissanime & foreplay

Approximately one week after The Bullet Bestie’s rise to prominence, Jungkook grows annoyed with it as his weirdly competitive nature rears its ugly head the more and more orgasms that little vibrator coaxes out of you. It turns on a weird switch in him, something slightly stuck up and snooty that he’ll never admit to out loud but is there nonetheless. By the following Friday, The Bullet Bestie is nestled deep in your garbage can and Jungkook’s back to pleasuring you with his tongue and fingers alone.

He had those moments in him, the ones where he liked to think he was better than any and everyone else, and occasionally they manifested against inanimate objects like a bullet vibrator.

Despite his polite and generally soft exterior, you catch glimpses of that cocky spirit more than anyone else. Over the past year, you’ve come to realize that Jungkook’s personality was like a coin that had been left out in the sun too long. He had this sweet and reserved nature you saw most times, a kindhearted boyfriend who adored you almost as much as you adored him. He was your angel whom you knew had a heart of gold, even if you were slowly bringing out his more childish tendencies. You knew him like the back of your hand, knew what his mom’s favorite color was and how he liked to stack the plates in his cabinet according to size and make. It was a side that was rusted from years of being out in the sun, basking in its adoring warmth, and you loved every inch about it.

And still, there was this other side to him you rarely saw. This cocky asshole who hid beneath the soft smiles and careful hands, making his appearance only through sly smirks and a tongue prodding against the inside of his cheek. He was a braggart, a man who knew his greatness yielded for no one and wanted that fact shoved down everyone’s faces. This Jungkook, this other side that never saw the light of day, was like the Hyde to his Jekyll. An unexpected, almost mean side to him that only dared make his appearance when his exhilaration was at an all-time high. Like when he was fucking you into another dimension, or kicking your ass in Mario Kart, or like now, when he was receiving an award at an annual tech ceremony.

On the eve of your one year anniversary, Jungkook’s company invites him to an awards ceremony for other web and app developers like him. It’s a grand event, filled with all the biggest nerds in the developing industry here to present the baby nerds with awards. Jungkook lies somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, both a seasoned player and a rookie all at once. He spends the night tolling you around in a floor-length gown and fangirling over all the “legends” in the room.

You know next to none of these people and none of their accomplishments but still pretend you respect them to hell and back. By the end of the main dinner, you’re sympathizing with Barbie’s ever-smiling features because your cheeks feel sore.

Towards the end of the night, Jungkook wins that random award— okay, who were you fooling? He wins the Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award, recognizing him for all the hard work you’ve seen him put in this past year. It’s probably the highest recognition he can receive at this point in his career. It was an esteemed award that was bestowed upon only the most innovative developer of the year among tech companies, something Jungkook had briefly mentioned he always wanted. It’s basically the equivalent of placing first place in his field, but given Jungkook’s competitive industry and his young age, you think it’s like telling all these old Facebook lords to suck his big fat cock. (But that was your job when you got home.)

He gives a short little thank you speech, promising to work hard and own up to this title. The people around you are swooning, obviously endeared with his soft puppy dog features and melodic voice. They don’t know him like you do, don’t know that uppity twist to his grin like you do. It doesn’t slip off his face even when he steps down off the stage, arms wide open as he comes barreling towards you. Even with you in his arms, the congratulations that are thrown from every direction ring loudly in his ears and swell that ego of his.

The night goes like that for the most part, Jungkook’s acquaintances approaching him every few minutes to rain down their praises. He goes a little crazy at the open bar after a while, shoving the gold trophy into your arms as his beloved work seniors whisk him off for drinks. You don’t mind because you resigned yourself to a night of playing Jungkook’s perfectly perfect partner anyway, watching him politely mingling with his coworkers. Despite his earlier success, you know he won’t brag about it verbally. No, he’ll wait until the two of you get home—your place or his—and remind you how amazing he is with a quick snap of his hips.

As you said, he’ll never boast aloud.

However, that doesn’t mean you won’t.

“That’s my boyfriend,” you explain to the seventh person that greets you that night, excitedly pointing to where said boyfriend was slowly losing all sense of self by the bar. You don’t know anyone here beside Jungkook, and you’re pretty sure no one in their hammered minds is going to remember who you are anyway, so a little gloating never hurt anyone. “He won the ‘I’m Better Than Everyone Else’ award tonight,” you emphasize to the tipsy woman beside you who only laughs at your exaggeration. You assume she’s like you, accompanying one of the many developers here, because as soon as you finish boasting about Jungkook she moves to brag about someone too.

Truth be told, you spend the whole night re-analyzing the Zootopia movie you saw on Disney+ the other night in your head. So if the little fox fellow didn’t control himself would the city have fallen to ruins? Why was the useless sheep girl so evil and bitter? Why was there an unreal amount of romantic tension between the fox and the rabbit? Whatever, you’ll have to rewatch it some other night, and with your new Disney+ account, you could watch it anywhere you wanted to.

Now, you had never bothered to purchase a Disney+ subscription or even tried to swindle Jungkook for his password before. As far as you know, Disney+ was filled with old tv shows from your childhood, sitcoms that made you laugh when you were ten. There’s nothing wrong with that, but personally, you were a firm believer that that which was perfect should not be touched once finished; in other words, you were utterly terrified you’d rewatch an old episode of The Wizards of Waverly Place, only to find out the same joke you’ve been regurgitating for the past ten years doesn’t actually go that way.

However, the harsh reality was that Disney+ was good for a few things. Ugh, you hate when giant corporations provide decent services. Aside from Zootopia, you’ve watched about every animated media on there as well, all of which you replay in your mind as Jungkook has the time of his life with these nerds, knocking back champagne glass after champagne glass.

Anyway, the night ends a little past midnight, and Jungkook who is buzzed on alcohol and high on exhilaration ends up calling an Uber for the two of you. Your apartment— the new one he had not only helped you hunt for but also helped you move into, greatly cutting the cost of movers out with those glistening biceps and thick thighs —is still going through her rebellious phase where the potted plants are trying to take over, courtesy of Kim Namjoon. So for now, there’s a potted plant in an awkward corner that both of you stub your toe against on your way to your bedroom.

You’re thinking Jungkook is going to go to town tonight, given the fact he’s on Cloud 9 and has had his ego stroked by a bunch of dudes for the past couple hours. Maybe you guys can try out the hot role-playing scenario you saw on GirlsWay a few weeks ago, or the handcuffs you impulsively bought from Amazon one Monday night. Or maybe, and this one really makes you flutter, he’ll let you fully take the reins for once.

All those lewd fantasies end up being for naught because just as you shimmy out of your gown (with the help of his hands, of course) and turn to climb him like a tree, he’s on the other side of the room getting your makeup remover out for you. And also talking. A lot. And way more than usual.

“Did you see him, babe?” he sighs, dare you to say, dreamily, handing you the cotton pads as he begins pulling a million pins out of your hair. Slowly and with a lot of confusion, you pull your fake lashes off and begin cleaning your face. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh,” you say, having absolutely no idea who ‘he’ is or why Jungkook is so in love with him and not you at this very moment. “But so were you,” you add. Perfect. Stroke his ego and then stroke his cock.

Jungkook sputters at your praise. He’s carefully placing your hairpins on your thigh, cheeks flaming red every time he leans over you. “Was I?” he murmurs, voice sweet in that cute little way it always gets when he’s downed one too many shots of whiskey, enough to be buzzed but not enough to be wasted.

You turn and the pins clatter to the floor and across the bedsheets. “Yes,” you confirm, ignoring his sad huff at the mess you’ve made. Instead, you grab him by the collar of that pink button-up he taunted you with all night. “You were fucking incredible and I think incredible men deserve to have their dick sucked.”

Jungkook laughs at your vulgar statement, holding you gently by the hips as you climb into his lap. “Is that so?” The soft, shy persona is gone now, replaced by the gentle stirring beneath his dress pants. You nod hurriedly, plopping down on his lap and running your hands through his styled hair.

“Yes,” you confirm, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Luckily for you, I know this nymphomaniac who would gladly gobble up your cock at your every command.”

He snorts just as you push him into his back, nose adorably scrunched up. “First of all, you know I hate that word,” he chuckles, finally gracing you with a sweet peck that only makes you want him to fuck you into the fifth dimension. “Secondly, please don’t ever say you’ll gobble my cock up ever again.”

Something inside of you squeals with excitement as he rolls the two of you over, firm body pressing down on yours. “Oh, baby,” you groan, lazily throwing a leg over his hip. Jungkook grins and then decides to entertain you for a few minutes with a sloppy kiss.

You say a few minutes because just as things are heating up, he pulls away. He smiles apologetically. “As much as I’d love to be here with you, I actually have an early morning tomorrow.”

You frown at the sudden change in events. “Huh? They’re gonna make you work the morning after a Gatsby party?” you gasp, sitting up as he gets off of you. With every step he takes away from the bed your heart breaks a little more. “They can’t do that— that’s illegal!”

From the doorway he levels you with a comically raised brow. “No, it’s not.”

You scamper after him down the hall, watch the muscles in his back flex as he pulls his suit jacket on. “You can’t work on our anniversary— that’s illegal!” you offer instead.

He stops at your front door, feet squeezed back into his shoes. “Baby, it’s not,” he rolls his eyes, leaning down to peck your forehead. “It was either I work in the morning or work at night,” he explains, giving your messy hair a soothing caress. He’s looking at you with those eyes, the ones that make your heart lodge itself into your throat and make life a tightrope experience. There’s a devastatingly lovesick part of you that wants this moment, this kind face, to be engraved into your mind for the rest of your life. You want this to be the first and last thought you have and nothing else: just Jungkook’s adoring gaze on you for the rest of time.

The moment ends too soon when he flutters one last peck against your lips. “I’ll be done in the afternoon, okay?”

You pout. “Okay, your place?” you huff, making sure to get one last octopus squeeze around his waist. He nods. “Promise you won’t be late?”

The corners of his gaze soften. “You know I won’t,” he smiles, leaning down to bump your noses together playfully. “Can’t stay away from my pretty girl too long. Besides, I have a gift for you tomorrow.”

It’s with that sentiment and a hammering heart that you let him go. With Jungkook gone, there’s really nothing for you to do now. You took the next two days off in preparation for your anniversary sex, so you don’t have to head to sleep early like usual.

With nothing else planned, you decide on rewatching that Zootopia movie that had plagued you all night, ready to dissect every plot hole to hell and back. You don’t think Jungkook’s seen this movie yet so you add it to your long list of animated movies you’re forcing him to watch.

Part of you is actually really surprised Jungkook left. Well, kinda sorta, very, but not really. Jungkook was a good boy, that much was obvious. He took his job seriously, and if his job wanted him to come in at the asscrack of dawn, then he’d come in before the sun even rose. He was a goody-two-shoes, but even so, you were occasionally able to bring out that darker side in him.

Jungkook working, like actually working in an office setting, was pretty rare though. The dude had a chill job that let him stay home most of the time, and essentially clock in whenever he wanted. Every now and then you were able to convince him to stay, tucking him beneath your body or the covers, depending on the night, and refusing to let him go the morning after.

Once he had eaten you out until the wee hours of the day, ravenous between your thighs, and then went to work the next morning like he hadn’t broken you. Another time you had persuaded him into watching every season of the 2017 DuckTales reboot through the night. When the alarm had rung in the middle of the season finale, he had simply gotten into your shower and gone off to work.

So maybe you were a little confident in your skills, and Jungkook slipping between your fingers tonight was a huge bummer. But there was no use crying over spilled milk, you tell yourself, flinging your bra off somewhere in the corner as you snuggle back into your sheets. You’re ready to tear this Zootopia movie apart, scene by scene.

Even though your apartment is a little cold, you’re comforted by the fact Jungkook will be here to keep you warm all day tomorrow.

All men do is lie.

Despite his promise to come home early the next day, Jungkook ends up lying. The meeting he had been in all morning— the same one that had stopped you from getting bent like a pretzel the night before —drags on well past noon. Then, Kim Namjoon, AKA Jungkook’s favorite senpai in the entire world, catches wind of Jungkook’s success last night and absolutely has to take him out to lunch to celebrate.

You scoff, glaring down at your phone and the impulsive messages you’d sent out an hour ago when Jungkook had first texted you telling you he would be late.

You whirl around to stomp off in the direction of his living room, where all of yours and Jungkook’s favorite foods were growing colder by the minute. You had spent the longest time carefully laying them out, making sure the fried chicken was closer than the pizza but not closer than the breadsticks. Truthfully it’s a nightmare. There are about eight stomach aches worth of food sitting on his coffee table, the greasy stench makes you gag and will certainly stick to your hair for weeks, but none of that mattered because it was all for your beau.

Your very late beau who was making you grow more and more agitated with each minute that passed. Ugh! How inconsiderate of him to test your patience on a day like this. You didn’t want to be upset with him, but this was your first, real milestone as a couple with him. You had wanted to spend the whole day cuddled up, maybe finally tell him how much he really meant to you— definitely not waking up alone with eyeliner crusted eyes and an aching heart.

Deciding you’re being a little too dramatic, you head into the bedroom to calm down. This was fine, you tell yourself, carefully laying out the damn near harlotrous lingerie you had yet to put on. Jungkook would come over soon and everything would be A-okay.

Except for the part it’s actually F-not okay because soon it’s nearing sunset and the food has gone cold so you’ve stocked it into the fridge, and the pretty sheer bra has a wonky wire that’s two seconds away from piercing through your heart, but that doesn’t even matter because Jungkook being late for your all-day anniversary celebration has already ripped it to shreds anyway.

You plop down on the couch in defeat, impulsively opening up the Disney+ app to cry through another episode of Phineas and Ferb. You’ve abandoned the satin robe that came with the lingerie in favor of donning a big t-shirt that smells like him and makes your heart hurt even more. The setting sun paints the living room in muted oranges, the chirping of birds outside the soundtrack to your lonely day.

You end up watching some other cartoon on Disney+, avoiding the Marvel section because you had promised Jungkook he could be there when you lost your Marvel virginity. Well, at least one of you was good at keeping promises, you think bitterly. For a second, you think about randomly watching one of the infamous MCU films out of order just to spite him. But then you think of that soft puppy gaze and how disappointed he’d be in you.

Whatever! It wouldn’t ever match up to the way you felt now.

Anyway, you circle back. When you’re five episodes into Phineas and Ferb you hear the doorknob rattle.

You sit up just as the door swings open, visible from your spot on the couch. He meets your gaze almost immediately, big doe eyes caught in the act. What act? You’re not really sure. In fact, you don’t even know what you’re looking at when he walks in because he’s drowning in shopping bags. His lips twist into a grin. “Honey, I’m home,” he says playfully.

You don’t laugh.

Jungkook frowns, dumping all his bags down at the entrance before waddling over towards you. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, coming to stand before you and cupping your face in his hands. He’s towering over you, so tall and gorgeous but for the first time, you’re not dazed by his beauty.

“Kook, you said you’d be back hours ago,” you say slowly, avoiding his gaze. You try to keep the frustration out of your voice, but you’ve had hours to dwell on it now, and those annoying cartoon characters, though charming at first, had only served to multiply your annoyance.

Jungkook blinks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean… yeah. But I got you presents?” he beams, glancing back at the mountainous pile he made by the door. You look over too. There are some luxury bags squeezed in between other shops you like, the occasional jewelers' logo on the side.

You stand with a sigh, sauntering off into the kitchen with him on your tail. “I don’t want presents,” you mumble, reaching to pour yourself a glass of water. You’re briefly aware of how childish you must seem. Jungkook hovers behind you.

“What? Yes, you do,” he says. “You had an entire wishlist on my Amazon of things you wanted.” It’s his turn to level you with an unreadable expression, slowly crossing his arms over his chest.

Your frown only deepens as you turn to match his stance against the counter. While it may be true that you did indeed have an entire list of impulsive items on his Amazon, that didn’t necessarily mean you wanted them all. Sometimes you just wanted to stare longingly at a pair of satin gloves without actually buying them. You don’t know how to explain this much to him. “They’re not…” you stop with another deep breath. “Forget it. Thank you for the presents.”

Now it’s Jungkook’s turn to question you. “What,” he says in an unimpressed tone, padding over to you before you can escape back into the living room to watch the entire princess movie collection on Disney+. “No, tell me what’s wrong.”

For some reason, that’s exactly what you don’t want to hear. “Jungkook,” you say flatly, narrowing your eyes at him. “You come home six hours after you said you would without telling me why, and normally I wouldn’t care, but today was supposed to be a special day for us.”

Jungkook reels at your bluntness. “Babe, I was out getting stuff for you. I know it’s our anniversary— that’s why I wanted to treat you,” he responds, oddly condescendingly like you’re a child who doesn’t understand what exactly he was doing.

You brush his hands away from your shoulders. “Yeah,” you huff. “Now I know that. But I spent all day waiting for you,” you stress, chest puffing as you grow more and more agitated by his inability to understand you. God, can he let you go now? At least a bunch of animated, geometrically drawn cartoons won’t question you like this and make you feel as childish as he was.

When he doesn’t say anything else you stomp back into the living room, snatching up your phone from its forgotten spot against the couch. “I’m going to bed.”

At that Jungkook seems to kickstart back to life. “What? ___, it’s barely six,” he says as he follows after you into your bedroom. You ignore him, shuffling beneath the covers. In all actuality, you’re going to bed to mope and watch more animated family shows, maybe cry under the guise of the plot just being so sad. Jungkook sits beside you just as you click back on to finish off your episode. “Baby, I don’t get it,” he sighs. “You’re always talking about how much you want this or that, and I go out and get you it all but now you’re mad?”

You bite down on your lip, eyes lasered in on the pictures moving before you. “Jungkook, just forget it.”

“No,” he says, more sternly than he’s ever been with you before. “If there’s a problem, tell me.” There’s a heavy pause, and then he says, “don’t make me waste my time guessing what’s wrong, okay?”

“Waste your time?” you scoff, sitting up with pinched brows that you find match his. “I’m not trying to waste anyone’s time— in fact, that’s hot coming from you, Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes. “What are you even saying? You’re mad because I took a little long getting presents, for you, might I add,” he huffs, plopping down on the edge of the mattress beside your knee. “You’re always saying you want this and that, but you can’t handle me going out to get those things? Do you hear how weird you sound?”

You whip the covers off of you. “Me talking about things doesn’t always mean I want them,” you defend.

Jungkook snorts. “Yes, it does,” he says. “Anytime you ramble about stuff for minutes like a little kid it’s because you want me to buy it for you.”

You blink. “Like a little kid?” you repeat, stunned by his comparison. Granted, you always knew you were the more childish of the two, but you never thought that would equate Jungkook thinking of you as a child. Something red and nasty flares in your chest. “Well sorry,” you spit, crossing your arms over your chest defensively, “sorry we all can’t be perfectly mature golden boys who would never see the light of day if I constantly wasn’t dragging them out.” You know it’s a somewhat low blow, especially because Jungkook’s told you before how his introverted tendencies were a sensitive issue growing up, but you can’t help it.

Jungkook groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Baby, don’t do this now,” he warns, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Stop acting like this.”

“Like how?” you spit, “like a kid?” Jungkook says nothing, leveling you with a blank stare from the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes, phone falling off your lap. Another episode of Phineas and Ferb had started, the corny opening tune filling the space between the two of you. “At least now I know what you think of me,” you mutter over the guitar riff.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook blurts, sitting up wildly. “Of course I’m gonna think of you as a stupid little kid, look at you,” he seethes, gesturing at the phone beside you. You flinch. “All you do is watch kids shows and whine whenever I wanna watch anything normal adults watch. You complain every single day about the most normal things, like your job? Why should I fucking care that you’re working a dead-end office job in a field you didn’t even study for— that’s not my problem, __!” he snaps, eyes narrowed into little slits. “I just won an award last night,” he says suddenly, voice back to its regular volume. “I’m at the height of my career and I’m only going up, but I can’t even enjoy that because I have to come home and cater to you,” he finishes, a loud scoff punctuating the final word.

You had never imagined Jungkook finally bragging about himself would be at your expense.

A beat of silence passes, the angry glint in his eyes quickly fading away the longer you don’t say anything. You sniff once, turning your head idly to the side where Phineas and Ferb is still blaring loudly from your phone speaker. Picking up the device, you throw it across the room where it hits his closet door with a terrifying bang the breaks the silence.

The sound snaps Jungkook out of whatever shock he’d been in. “Baby…” he says slowly, carefully, like you’re a caged animal that’s just escaped the zoo.

“I’m going home,” you say, also a little too calmly. You saunter over towards his closet where your shattered phone screen glares up at you as you yank a pair of sweats off a hanger. Jungkook is still frozen on the edge of the bed, watching you with wide eyes as you move about the room.

It’s when you’re in the hallway leading downstairs that Jungkook finally snaps out of his daze, scampering behind you as you descend the stairs. “Baby,” he rushes out, loudly bounding down after you, “___, wait,” he gasps, catching you by the kitchen counter collecting your keys. “I-I didn't mean that,” he rushes out, eyes wide and frantic as they flicker over your expression. “I don’t think that—I don’t, baby, please, just… let me explain, please.”

“Jungkook, let go of me,” you respond, shaking your wrist in an attempt to release yourself. He’s not even holding you tightly— he never would—but the sound of your heart pounding in your ears makes your movements jerky and erratic. “I wanna go home.”

“No,” he chokes, cornering you against the counter. “No, baby, please just listen to me, I-I—“

“You what, Jungkook?” you snap, placing a hand on his chest and forcefully pushing him away. He lets you, stepping back with a wobbly bottom lip. “You need to tell me how you’re too good for me? How much I hold you down because I wasn’t lucky enough to get a job like yours straight out of college?” He says nothing, swallowing roughly as you jab a finger into his chest. “Well let me tell you something,” you snarl, chest heaving, “I may be childish and a huge complainer, but I’m not stupid enough to let someone walk all over me like this.”

With that, you make your great escape. Truthfully, you don’t want him to see the tears in your eyes as you yank his door open, stomping down his steps and in the direction of the nearest bus stop. The door opens right after you tug it shut, painting your shadow across the sidewalk. There’s the scrambled sound of house slippers against the concrete that follows you down. “Go the fuck back inside,” you snap without missing a beat.

Sensing your obvious anger, he pauses before he can reach you. “Text me when you get home?” he calls out quietly.

“No,” you respond.

You would never admit to anyone that you spend the entire night eating a tub of mint chocolate ice cream. It’s disgusting and makes you gag, but it’s the only one you have in your apartment. And of course, it was brought over by none other than Jeon Jungkook himself a few days ago. Even when you’re trying to comfort yourself over how mean he was, on your anniversary night no less, you’re plagued by thoughts of him everywhere.

As much as you want to brush his words off, put on that cool girl exterior you’ve maintained since high school, there’s something different about this situation. You guess it’s impossible to brush off such hateful words when they come from someone you love and adore so much.

Were you too childish? You had always believed that side of you was what made your relationship with Jungkook so perfect. The two of you meshed well because of your differences, like yin and yang. So how had he been able to so easily deconstruct every inch of that balance in a matter of a few seconds? Was this perfect reality all in your head this whole time?

You want to tell yourself it was just a heat of the moment outburst from Jungkook, give him the benefit of the doubt because he’s never snapped at you like this before. Of course you’ve fought a couple of times in the past year, but neither of you had ever stooped as low as you did yesterday. Furthermore, the insecure part of your brain says he obviously felt this somewhere in his heart to bring it up at all. What he had said to you wasn’t something someone could make up on the spot.

You don’t text him when you get home, partly to spite him, but mainly because you had left your phone at his place anyway. You know he tried calling you last night because the call log is synced up to your laptop. He called on and off for about thirty minutes before he probably found your phone in his room. Whatever, he can mope in his regret for all you care

—is what you wanna say, but the longer he goes without showing himself to you the more your insecurities and hurt fester. Was this it? Was this the end of what was probably the best year of your life? It’s too painful to think about, to even consider the possibility that Jungkook might have gained a new insight last night and decided, hey, maybe this is for the best after all.

You drown yourself in an ungodly amount of sugar for breakfast, your laptop blaring yet another episode of Phineas and Ferb on the dining table. Muscle memory has you making Jungkook’s favorite pancakes before you can stop yourself, and by the time you do realize, you’ve resigned yourself to the blueberry smell anyway.

There’s a pounding on your door a little past noon, so hard and rough, that you almost think it’s the police finally coming to catch you for all your years of illegally pirating Phineas and Ferb.

It’s not.

It’s just a really drunk boyfriend wailing for your forgiveness at the door. You open the door with a fright, jumping back when he slumps forward and almost crashes face-first into the floor. “You didn’t call,” Jungkook cries, leaning a little too much of his weight onto you when you reach out to steady him.

The thundering of your heart slows upon registering it’s him. “Kook?” you frown, nose pinched at the ungodly stench of alcohol wafting off his clothes. “Have you been drinking?” you ask even though the answer is staring you right in the face (and in the nose).

He groans, staggering deeper into your arms. You blindly push the door shut behind him, resigning yourself to this new situation while your pancakes grow cold in the other room. “Baaaby,” he slurs, letting you guide him into the living space. He’s unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, half-opened eyes gazing up at you. “Let me,” a hiccup, “explain.”

You won’t lie. There’s a very obvious sense of discomfort sitting in your chest, torn between two paths that you don’t wish to choose between. His skin is warm and flushed like he’s just walked all the way here in this morning sun. You step over to the window that faces down onto the street below. There’s no sign of his car; you would have killed him if he ever tried to drive in this state.

“Did you walk here?” you ask instead, deciding there’s no need for one singular path, not when you can walk straight down the middle, both cleaning him and grilling him at the same time.

Jungkook’s response is delayed, head lolling from side to side as you help him out of his sweater. His skin is sweaty beneath, scorching to the touch. “Uh-huh,” he groans. Jesus, you sort of assumed but him confirming it really set things into perspective.

By no means did you and Jungkook live on opposite ends of the earth. On a good day, a drive from your place to his took about ten minutes. But walking? Easily an hour. Had he walked all the way from his place, drunk on top of that?

You brush his hair away from his face, his eyes fluttering shut at your touch. His lips are pouty yet chapped, dehydrated from the sun and the alcohol he reeks of. “Sit up for me,” you instruct, scampering off to your room for chapstick and water.

“Anything for you,” Jungkook wheezes, throat probably dryer than a desert. When you return, he’s two seconds from face planting into the coffee table and breaking that pretty face of his. You catch him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him balanced. “Tell me what to do,” he chokes out, voice hoarse.

“Just need you to drink some water,” you say, pressing a cup against his lips. He drinks it, but a drop still dribbles down his chin.

“No,” he groans, catching your wrist in his hand when you reach up to apply some chapstick on him. “Tell me what to do,” he stresses, “to fix this. Fix us.”

His words make you pause, the tube of chapstick hovering over his plush lips. “You don’t have to do anything,” you respond quietly, trying to finish the application so you can pull away.

Jungkook doesn’t let you go. You try to look away, but there’s something about him that looks off. Maybe it’s the raw skin under his eyes, red and swollen. Or the sad droop to those same eyes that hold you captive. Or maybe it’s the subtle tremble in his hands, the fingers that hold tightly to your wrist, not to keep you there but to ground himself. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he rasps out, shakily bringing your hand to his mouth, where he presses one airy kiss to your knuckles. “Tell me ho-how to fix this and I’ll do it,” he pleads, a vulnerable look in his eyes.

Unable to withstand the sheer amount of agony on his expression, you look away. “___, please,” he chokes out, stumbling off the couch in his drunk and desperate haze until he’s kneeling in front of you. “I can’t… I can’t,” he sniffles, tears clouding those pretty eyes you’ve come to love so much. “I don’t know who I am without you.”

You clench your jaw. “You’re Jeon Jungkook,” you murmur, slipping your hand out of his hold to run through his hair. It’s knotted and a little too greasy, two things Jungkook would usually never allow. “This year’s Platinum Mobile Standard of Excellence Award recipient,” you remind him, trailing your thumb across his cheekbone when he turns to look up at you with those big Bambi eyes. “Sweet and shy, but you love being rowdy with your friends. You love movies and TV and organizing your shirts according to fabric type. You work harder than anyone I know and never complain. You date me, even though I’m a huge child,” you smile sadly.

“No!” he jumps, turning that frantic stare back into you. “Y-You’re not— it’s not,” he stammers, words still slurring together. “I’m a liar,” he cries, resting his forehead on your knees. His shoulders shake. “I don’t deserve you,” he weeps quietly. You place a hand on his shoulder. “Y-Y-You make my life so much better, ___, so colorful and fun. I-I wish I knew you in high school,” he admits, “maybe I wouldn’t have been so emotionally constipated now.”

“You’re not,” you reassure him softly.

He disagrees. “You bring out the best,” he hiccups, “the best in me.” Your heart skips in your chest. “I-I love you, you know that?”

You sputter, eyes wide at his sudden confession. “I… love you so much, y’know? I think about you ev-every night, ___,” he rambles, eyes dreamily gazing off into some miscellaneous spot on the wall behind you. “I can’t get you out of my head. Like you're a song, o-on repeat but it’s not annoying because it’s my favorite song, and I could listen to it for the rest of my life, y’know? My favorite song, I know all the words b-because it’s all I think about! I love... My love… I love you so much.”

“Kook,” you rush out, cheeks flaming as you try to pull him away from where he’s slumped over your legs. His passionate speech has you abuzz, body tingling everywhere until you feel overwhelmed, head spinning like you’re on a rollercoaster. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He nods sleepily, seemingly coming down from whatever alcohol induced rampage has allowed him to walk for an hour straight in this searing heat just to confess to you. “Y-You don’t have to say it back,” he continues to stutter as you guide him through the living room on wobbly legs. “I just-I just— can I?” he babbles. “Can I love you, ___?”

You pass through the kitchen space, where whatever you were watching on Disney+ is blaring loudly. It distracts Jungkook for about two seconds before his attention returns to you. When you don’t answer, he presses on. “Is that okay?” he asks, whirling around to face you, catching your shoulders in his hands. He towers over you by the entrance to your bedroom, dark curls tickling your forehead. His eyes are dark and glazed over, both in tears and an emotion so raw and unfiltered it squeezes around your chest until you can’t breathe. “Is it okay for me to love you?” he murmurs softly, knocking his nose against yours.

Your cheeks blaze. “Yes, th-that’s fine, Kook,” you blubber, placing a hand over his chest, where his heart is also hammering away. “Just need you to go rest now, okay?”

He nods sleepily, nudging your nose with his one last time, like a soft almost-kiss, before letting you push him into the room. “Yes, yes,” he breathes, his body finally crashing from his adrenaline spike. He flops down onto the bed unceremoniously, dark waves fanning across your pillows. You try to wiggle him out of his shirt, but it only gets about halfway up his chest before he blindly reaches for the covers. His legs stick out awkwardly, clad in the sweatpants you’ve come to associate with him.

When he’s all swaddled up in your blanket he finally goes limp, tiny snores leaving his lips as he dozes away from reality. You sigh, pressing a palm to his forehead. He’s still warm and clammy, but at this point, there’s nothing you can do but wait for him to sober up.

With a final kiss to his forehead, you leave the room, closing the door behind you before sliding against the wooden surface. There’s a trapped bird in your chest, wildly flapping its wings in an effort to get out, and it’s all stupid Jungkook’s fault in the next room. Stupid Jungkook who demolished and remodeled your heart all in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn’t calm down, even when you rush off into the kitchen for a glass of water, or when you try to immerse yourself in some other show on Disney+. It stays beating against your ribs and your chest until you’re forcing yourself to sit down on the couch and process.

He wakes up a little before dinner. You hear him from the living room, where you’re flicking through the options on Disney+ for the nth time that day. You’ve seen the first fifteen minutes of about twenty different series and movies by now, always growing antsy and abandoning them early on. The only reason you know he’s awake is because the shower turns on for a few minutes, and then his bare feet are heard padding across the hallway back into your room.

By the time he resurfaces in the living room, you’ve resigned yourself to just more Phineas and Ferb, nonchalantly watching the silly cartoon. (Except you’re anything but nonchalant, and your heartbeat rings in your ears.)

Jungkook hovers by the door, clad in a pair of shorts he’s left here before, and a t-shirt you stole from him. “Hey,” he says quietly, lingering by the doorframe. You nod back in response. “Can I watch with you?” Again, another nod.

Slinking over to the couch, he’s rather careful as he sits down, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. You don’t even think he can see the screen of your laptop until he murmurs, “he’s my favorite character,” when Perry the Platypus appears on the screen.

You hum. “Thought you didn’t like these kids shows?” you ask. You don’t mean it to sound as petty and backhanded as it comes out, but that’s really no one's fault but his own.

Jungkook’s breathing tightens beside you. “No,” he admits, “I don’t. Only watch them because I know you like them.” You contemplate pausing the episode and engaging in a real conversation with him, but at this point, you’re very tired from the events of the last day. Jungkook doesn’t press either, just shuffles more comfortably beside you.

You get about five minutes in, quiet chuckles shared between the two of you, before he strikes. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says, so hushed you almost don’t hear it. His hand is resting in the space between you, pinky brushing against yours. “About… being late. And the presents.”

You inspire slowly. “That wasn't even the problem, silly,” you brush off. From your peripheral, you see Jungkook’s slow nod. “I didn’t want any presents,” you mention, “I just wanted you.” You look away from the screen immediately after, pretending like the spot on the ceiling is actually really interesting.

The two of you fall into silence, the animated characters on your screen rapidly chattering away. “Oh,” Jungkook says after a moment.

You roll your eyes. They’re moist but you don’t want him to see. “Yeah, oh,” you parrot back softly, relaxing into the couch again. “Did you eat the food I left out?”

Jungkook shuffles beside you, the soft lull of the speakers soon being cut as he reaches over to pause Phineas and Ferb. A couple of seconds pass and then he’s leaning into you, head resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, placing a palm over the hand he had been teasing for the past few minutes. “I thought I knew what I was doing but I was wrong.”

His voice is so soft and sincere, it makes your chest ache. You try to burrow your face against your opposite shoulder, try to hide the stray tear that escapes out of the corner of your eye. “It’s fine,” you brush off, voice choked off and hoarse.

Jungkook leans up, pecks your cheek so tenderly it makes you go mushy. “No, it’s not fine. I acted like a know-it-all and said something way out of line,” he murmurs, raising his head to look at you. His hand feels warm over yours. It’s the touch you craved all day and yesterday, the warm feel of his body against yours. You’re embarrassed at how easily you melt into it. “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a long time,” he tells you, holding your hand close to his chest. “I had no right to say those things to you.”

You sniffle, resting your head against his shoulder now. His heart beats loud enough for you to hear. “Was it true?” you mumble. “Do you really think of me like that?”

He shakes his head, his soft breaths fanning across your forehead. “No, never,” he answers. “I think you’re incredible. My brain was just trying to justify my dumb anger.”

You nod, even if you don’t believe it just yet. But that was a conversation for later, you suppose, sometime in the future when you aren’t on the verge of tears and threatening to crumble apart at the simplest word that leaves his mouth.

“I should have come home like you wanted, thought about my words before saying them,” he says, snuggling closer to you. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” you sniffle, covering your face with your free hand as he presses a kiss to the vein that runs over the back of the hand he’s holding captive. “Now it just sounds like I'm just being inconsiderate of your gifts and a crybaby.”

Jungkook kisses your temple softly, gently. “Don’t think about the gifts,” he says. “Just tell me what you wanted to do, doll.”

His voice calms you, has you like putty in his arms. “Watch movies,” you mumble, toying with a thread on your couch cushion. “Be with you.”

He hums. “Then we’ll do that,” he says, reaching for your laptop again. The screen nearly blinds you when it flickers back to life before you, Jungkook’s low breaths against your ear making it near impossible for you to process the titles on the screen. “You liked Disney+?”

Belatedly, you nod. “I like the animated movies,” you admit quietly, the anxieties of before slowly melting away, even more so when he slides his arm around you, pulling you close against his chest.

Unlike other times where he’ll critique the hell out of such childish films, Jungkook says nothing as he starts up the Zootopia movie instead, the same one you had wanted to show him before, right from the beginning. “That bunny looks like you,” you murmur when Judy Hopps first appears on the screen.

Jungkook snorts. “You say that about every cartoon bunny.”

You turn your head to glance at him over your shoulder. He meets your gaze with a small smile you return. “It’s because you’re so cute,” you say softly, lips twisting playfully when his cheeks grow scarlet.

He knocks his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “Not cute, just lucky,” he chuckles. “Lucky enough to have you.” Your heart turns over in your chest, threatening to burst out of your rib cage at his words. You try to turn in his arms. Before you can say the words that have been sitting on the tip of your tongue for months now, he’s beating you to it once again. “I love you,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, no alcoholic influence.

Something inside of you blossoms, eyes wide as he chastely kisses you. He pulls away without you ever reacting, too caught up in surprise to kiss him back properly. He stays close, curls tickling your forehead as he leans over you. “You don’t have to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I love you,” he says again, long lashes blinking down at you. “So much. It makes me feel like a stupid teenager again, going to the mall to buy a gift for my crush.” He laughs sheepishly, reaching down to tangle your fingers together. “Is that okay?” he asks quietly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

It mirrors the confession he’d given you that morning, those slurred words and teary eyes. It had been difficult to pinpoint the legitimacy of it before, the meaning scrambled by his hazy mind. But with him staring at you like this now, like you single-handedly plucked the stars from the sky to put them in those sparkly eyes of his, it makes something inside you ache.

Still, you choke on your own spit. “I-Is it okay for you to love me?” you sputter incredulously, realizing the oddity of the same question he’d thrown at you earlier. But now, you’re both sober and you can really tear apart that sentence. Jungkook nods a little too seriously for your liking. “Are you crazy?” He blinks in confusion, brows pulling together as you slowly but surely lose the last bits of your sanity. “You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook,” you huff, “a stupidly handsome, rich, walking dream, idiot who goes out with stupid girls like me.”

“Not stupid,” he murmurs, closing in on you again as he finally understands the truth behind your masked insults. He smells minty and like his favorite body wash of yours.

“No,” you deny. “You’re actually, like, insane. You have a bachelor pad, make enough money to sustain an entire litter of kittens, look and talk like every teenage girl’s dream boyfriend— but you mess it all up by dating evil, conniving hoes like me who lose their shit over Disney cartoons.” He says nothing, watching you with an amused grin as you talk over yourself, basically regurgitating his statement from yesterday except it kinda seems plausible now that you’re over it. “It’s stupid. No, you’re stupid. No— I’m stupid.”

Jungkook chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth gently. “Done?” he says, a dimple appearing on his cheek. You could kiss it away, but you need him to know the amount of stupidity in this room was astronomically high. “You’re not stupid, baby,” he says. You level him with a look. “Well. You have your moments.”

“Moments?” you repeat, standing up in a hurry that has him flopping down beside you. Your laptop is lost somewhere on the cushions, the voices faded as they grow farther away. “I am so stupid. I called Namjoon a whore for taking you out for lunch!” you cry. “I am the stupidest person in the world.”

Jungkook cackles, standing up beside you. “Yes, yes, you’re my stupid girl,” he teases, tapping the pout on your lips playfully. “So stupid she slanders herself instead of just telling me she loves me too.” He bumps your noses together, dark eyes staring at you almost daringly after his claim.

You fold soon enough. “I love you,” you mumble, “even if I’m too stupid to say it.”

He rewards your confession with a kiss, pulling you into his arms soon after. He sighs, almost wistfully. “Whatever shall I do with my very stupid girl?”

After exactly three minutes of feeling safe and loved in his arms, he abandons the living room in favor of leading you back to your room, where he pushes you down against your mattress. You cling to him, leaving him positioned over you at an angle. His chest presses against yours, arm curled around the back of your head. “Gotta get up, baby,” he laughs.

You shake your head, caging him in your arms. “Nuh-uh,” you murmur, legs wiggling when he places a hand on your hip.

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss against the side of your ear. “Your movie is still playing in the other room,” he reminds you, thumb drawing soothing circles on your hip. You don’t release him, his mindless touch only encouraging you to keep him close. “Babe?”

You say nothing, relishing in the comfort of Jungkook’s presence. His hair smells good and feels even softer against the side of your face. The cotton shirt he found is crumpled beneath your fists, dark blue pattern wrinkling. Finally coming to terms with his new home, Jungkook eventually relaxes into your hold with a sigh.

“Alright,” he hums, patting your hip as he repositions himself more comfortably. “I get it. My pretty girl must’ve missed me, huh?” You nod, soaking in every detail about him in this moment. Jungkook shifts, the hand on your hip suddenly falling over your thigh instead. “Or should I say my stupid girl?” he purrs, hand slipping between your thighs. “My stupid, little girl?”

A gasp catches in your throat when he runs his fingers over the front of your panties. Your legs kick out wildly at the sudden touch, toes curling at the hands you dreamt about all day and night. “Oh,” you pant, each brush of his fingers feeling better than the last.

“What?” he says, mouthing against the side of your neck. His tongue feels warm, but the trails of saliva he leaves have you shivering. “Too dumb to speak?” he scoffs, biting down against a particular spot on your neck. You whimper, unsure if it’s because of his hands or his mouth.

“N-No,” you try to sneer back, fingernails digging into his skin through his shirt. His hands are getting braver now, the pad of his pointer finger dancing over your engorged clit. The sheer material of your panties certainly doesn’t help, each touch feeling like it’s being magnified three times over. And if it felt this good with underwear, you can’t even begin to imagine how it’d feel without.

You don’t have to ponder for long, because soon after Jungkook is slipping his hand beneath your waistband, touching your sensitive pussy head-on. “Kook.”

He uses your momentary vulnerability to ease himself from your hold, finally recoiling enough to smother your mouth with his. You moan in surprise, thighs quivering as he gets to work circling your hardened bud sans your panties. Jungkook isn’t the least bit kind as he kisses you ruthlessly, likes he’s trying to compensate for something with his movements. When he finally pulls away it’s with an obnoxious pop and cherry red lips. He huffs, glancing down to see where he’s got his fingers pleasuring you.

Your thighs are squirming back and forth, closing around his hand every few seconds. Jungkook snorts. “Huh, look at that,” he mutters, trailing down until his fingers are gliding over your quickly sopping folds. “Stupid girl is good for something.”

Your cheeks burn. “Kook, I’m not—“

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed glare. “Not what? Not stupid? But I could’ve sworn you just spent the last few minutes saying you were,” he drones meanly, landing one light slap against your cunt that makes your hips buck.

You bite down a whimper. “I was just…” you trail off, eyes rolling back when he teases one finger against your opening.

“Kidding?” he supplies. “Well, I wasn’t.” Your heart stutters in your chest, eyes growing wide as he finally pushes himself off of you, propping himself up with an elbow beside your head. His gaze is dark and unrecognizable. “I think you’re so fucking stupid, doll,” he sneers. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You should have seen this moment coming, the manifestation of that shiny side of the coin finally reaching its full potential.

While Jungkook wasn’t exactly shy about his interests, he certainly wasn’t tripping over himself to tell you every new kinky thing he wanted to try. You sort of guessed he had some interest in this sort of play a few weeks ago when you watched the Barbie movie at his place. A lot of that night had branded itself into your three am wet dreams, but there was one particular moment that stood out to you. That was you, on your knees, with him condescendingly patting your head. Or just last week, you vaguely remember the term slipping through his lips as he pleasured you with The Bullet Bestie.

The thing about Jungkook was that, until last night, he would have never admitted, or so much as even thought, that he was better than you. That was fine because you would say it enough for the both of you anyway. Did you think Jungkook was amazing, an absolute diamond among these measly rocks? Absolutely. (Were you slightly biased because you were his girlfriend? Skip.) However, you also had this insane evil villain complex that made you want to brag about everything you possibly could, especially if that meant bragging about your boyfriend.

Realistically speaking, he was better than you, that much you could look past yesterday’s anger to admit, and not even in a stuck-up, conceited way; he had a really good job, an architecturally amazing house, and a hot girlfriend. Meanwhile, you had a mediocre job, an okay apartment, and an insanely sexy Calvin Klein boyfriend, half of which he had pointed out yesterday. Regardless of how powerful that third factor was, he still outnumbered you three to one.

Sue you, Jungkook was amazing. Anyone could see that! Except, maybe, himself.

And if the only time Jungkook would openly brag about his greatness or establish how much better than you he was, was in a post-fight, sex-induced setting, then you were more than happy to be his punching bag. So long as it was on your terms, and not as a result of his weirdly bottled up feelings.

(Yeah, you would have a long talk about that tomorrow.)

But for now, you pout up at him, clamping your thighs shut purposefully. “You’re stupid too,” you defend, “stupid and mean.”

Something in his expression changes. Suddenly, he’s moving at superhuman speed as he snatches his hand out from where you had previously trapped him between your legs, yanking you up by the front of your shirt. “Mean?” he mocks. “Isn’t that what you always wanted?” You shiver, fingers wrapping around the wrist that holds your sweater. “Wanted me to be mean and push you around like a little rag doll?”

Jungkook looks at you for another two seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away from you, leaning back on his knees. His tongue is pressing against the inside of his cheek, jaw tightening from the movement. “Baby,” he says so quietly it instills a prickle of fear in you, tainted with delicious excitement.

“Yeah?” you whisper, sitting up tentatively as you watch him, He was a bit frightening, like a wild animal about to devour you whole.

Jungkook rolls his neck, the joints in his spine cracking as he begins tugging off his shirt. You salivate at the sight, too focused on the sinewy muscles of his body to catch the dark gaze he levels your way. He throws it off to the side, his sleeve of tattoos that wraps around his bicep and begins to crawl down his chest wonderfully unobstructed now. “Eyes up here,” he says and you quickly meet his gaze. He leans forward, muscled arms coming to cage you against the headboard. “Stupid little sluts don’t have the room to make such comments,” he rasps out, unamused expression adorning his normally soft features. “Don’t you think so?”

“I-I don’t know,” you stammer, leaning away as he comes closer and closer, eventually just turning your head to the side to avoid that emotionless look. It’s the wrong move, and Jungkook lets you know as much by forcefully digging his fingers into your cheeks and turning your face back around to meet his gaze.

A hand grabs beneath your knee, tugging harshly until you’re flopping down onto your back with a squeal. You settle with his knee pressed hotly against your core. Jungkook stays towering over you. “Dumb little girls who make me watch cartoons,” he spits, tracing a hand over your chest, molding your breasts beneath his hands roughly enough to make you gasp. “And watch little animal movies on Disney+. Aren’t they just so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you concede, subtly shifting your hips for some desperately needed friction. Jungkook snorts, finally granting you your wish with one rough slide of his thigh against your core.

“I agree,” he says, and surprises you with a hand around your throat as he leans in to properly grind his thigh into you. “All they’re good for is being dumb little sluts with good pussy,” he murmurs darkly, thumb pressing into the side of your neck forcefully. “Sometimes, they don’t even do anything,” Jungkook continues, his other hand on your hip hauling you higher up his thigh. You mewl, soaked panties rubbing roughly against your folds. You miss the soft swirl of his thumb, the gentle prod of his fingers. Even so, you can’t deny this change in Jungkook is doing something to you, riling up a part of you that you hadn’t known existed. Maybe it’s the horniness from yesterday that was left unfulfilled, the one year anniversary sex that was put on pause. “Just lay there and take it, too fucked out and dumb to say anything.”

His fingers loosen for the briefest of seconds and you gasp for breath. “That’s terrible,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into his thigh, so close to his swollen cock.

Jungkook chuckles without an ounce of humor, pressing your foreheads together as he helps grind you to completion. “Isn’t it? I think that stupid little girl is cute though.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, vision spotting as he tightens his hand back around your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you moan, stomach tight from all the stimulation.

Jungkook hums, slowing you down with a tight grip on your waist. “Hm, what are you sorry for?” he croons, pink lips pulling into an evil smile. “You said you weren’t that stupid girl, __.”

You shake your head, trying to roll your hips up again but he’s holding you too tightly now, rendering you immobile beneath him. “I am,” you choke out shamefully, grabbing at the hand on your hip in a feeble attempt to remove it. “I am a stupid little girl.”

Jungkook smirks, leaning down to slot his mouth over yours. “That’s right,” he murmurs, “nothing but a dumb little slut.”

You shiver, opening your mouth when he slides his tongue against your bottom lip. He’s not the slightest bit nice, and more messy than usual. He pulls away with a bite to your lower lip, meeting your trembling gaze with that same unrecognizable glint in his eyes. “Come on, dummy, keep up,” he snarks before devouring you again. You try to, you really do, but he’s moving like an animal today, despite his slow and drunken movements from that morning. So you end up with his saliva dripping down your throat, clinging to the corners of your lips as he begins slowly grinding you against his thigh again. He flashes you a wicked smile, pearly teeth on display for you as he glances down at your messy appearance.

“Are you gonna touch me?” you ask, lower lip trembling at the thought after your desperate rutting. Jungkook purses his lips together in thought.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Don’t know yet.”

You whine. “Jungkook, please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist. “I need you.”

Jungkook chuckles, running his hand up your waist and taking your shirt with him. He slips his fingers beneath your bra, pushing the wire over your chest as he mouths at your neck. “Cute,” he says. “Can’t do it yourself?”

You tremble, chest arching into him as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I-I can,” you gasp. “Just feels better with you.”

Jungkook follows your statement with a nip against your skin, tongue soothing over it right after. “Why? Because I do everything better than you? Even make you cum better than you?”

Your cheeks heat up at his blatant ego rearing its head, hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. You say nothing, and that only eggs Jungkook on. “Come onnn,” he teases, finally, finally rolling his hips down onto your core. You squeak, head falling back against the pillows as you’re granted the one thing you’d been chasing. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you ask, voice wobbly as he continues to slowly rut against you, the front of his shorts pressing against the soaked crotch area of your panties. “Oh, oh, Jungkook,” you whine.

Suddenly he bites down harshly, teeth digging painfully into your skin. You yelp in surprise, pussy throbbing at the pain that shoots throughout your body. Jungkook pulls away and doesn’t bother soothing over it as he leans up to capture your jaw this time. “Say you’re a stupid little slut who can’t do anything without me,” he purrs, kisses too soft for the words he says.

Your mind blanks, torn between the humiliating phrase he wants you to say and properly checking him in his place. In the end, it’s with a twisted need to please him that you’re repeating the words back to him. “I-I’m a stupid slut,” you whimper, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he continues pushing you right along the edge. The rope pulled tightly in your core is slowly being pulled apart, threads hanging on for dear life. “Can’t... can't do anything without...”

“Without who?” he asks, reaching down and untying the front of his shorts. “Can’t do anything without who, baby?”

“Without you, without you,” you cry, bucking your hips up against his, the combined movements of both your bodies making you shake like a leaf. “Ah, K-Kook,” you wail, hips stuttering as your orgasm finally swallows you up. Your panties quickly grow wet and icky from your own arousal that pools between your thighs. Jungkook lets you writhe beneath him as you chase your high, mouth sucking a pretty blossom against your jaw.

You know better than to expect the night to end here, especially after seeing the glint that had been in his eyes as he watched you unravel.

He leans close, let’s his nose brush against yours as you catch your breath. “So perfect for me,” he groans, slotting his lips against yours. You can barely keep up with him, languidly going along with his hot tongue. “Perfect, perfect girl,” he murmurs, a stark change from the less than friendly adjectives he used just moments before. “Tell me you love me?” he says softly.

You nod, mind fuzzy as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Love you,” you exhale, letting your fingers knot in his hair. Your proclamation does something to him, makes him grind the front of his cotton shorts hard against you. For someone that was often rough and brutal with you in bed, he sure was sensitive to the mushiest of things.

“Don’t deserve you,” he huffs, hot breath fanning across your skin. He switches gears fairly quickly. “Tell me you hate me,” he begs hoarsely, rutting against your soiled panties. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit and you could do better without me,” he pleads, voice too airy to be another one of his usual sex-induced thoughts.

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he rolls his hips. “It’s not true,” you whisper, “I love you more than you’ll ever understand.”

Jungkook groans, suddenly winding back and tearing your ruined panties down your legs. You gasp in surprise, letting him haul you about in his blind, self-inflicted rage. “Stupid, stupid,” he huffs, though at this point you can’t tell who it’s directed at. With your underwear out of the way, he wastes no time plunging his fingers back into your cunt, bypassing the tight ring of muscle around it without any of his usual care. “You should hate me,” he snarls, lips pressed against your ear.

You moan, back arching at the sudden pleasure that blossoms between your thighs. “I-I don’t,” you gasp, toes curling.

Jungkook groans, the sound traveling down your spine and straight into your pussy. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, slipping an arm around you to pull you so close until you can’t breathe, chests lined up together. His skin is warm to the touch, scorching almost. “Fuck,” he groans, curling his fingers inside of you. You whimper and moan, incapable of staying still beneath him as he tortures you with a thumb to your clit. “Tell me you hate me,” he seethes again.

Despite the fog that’s settled over your mind, you still manage a resolute shake of your head. “N-no,” you cry, digging your nails into his back. They run dark red lines over his skin, making him hiss at the sting.

Whatever punishment he’s trying to put himself through is falling through with your refusal to admit such a thing. It aggravates him even more, your adamant stance on loving him so, and he’s retracting his fingers before you can cum again. “Please,” he chokes, face tucked into your neck. He’s sloppy with his movements; as he pulls his shorts down and kicks them away, he nearly suffocates you with his weight. “I don’t deserve you, ___, please.”

“I love you,” you whimper for lack of explanation. Jungkook leans back, that same madman gaze in his glossy eyes. He’s looking at you in disbelief almost, pouty lips puckered and swollen. Your hands slip from around him, falling on either side of your head.

Like a cobra he strikes, collecting your wrists in one hand he pins above your head. The sudden movement has him leaning in close, lips brushing over yours. His lashes are coated in a wetness he refuses to acknowledge, looking at you like you drive him insane. “If you ever try to leave me,” he whispers, jerky breath fanning over your skin, “I’ll lose my mind.”

He loves you so much it aches.

“I won’t,” you whimper, feeling your own eyes well up with an emotion that consumes every inch of your being. “I’ll never leave you, you stupid, stupid boy.”

A faint smile crosses his features at your words, lips quirking to the side. You relish in it for all of two seconds before he’s ramming his cock into you, your sensitive walls spawning around him. You sob loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. Your legs instinctively hook themselves around his waist, digging into the base of his spine as he rolls his hips into you.

You feel full and complete like he belongs there in this moment and every moment after this. It makes your heart constrict painfully. Jungkook’s soft groans follow your more unraveled noises, the vulgar slapping of skin on skin the underlying melody to it all. “Ffffuck,” he spits, greedily swallowing your moans up. You whine, arms bucking in an effort to hold him close. But he’s determined in his act of restraining you, long fingers tightening around your wrists until they hurt. “I warned you, didn’t I?” he huffs, snapping his hips into you.

Your walls clench around his hard cock, the drag as he exits sending shivers throughout your body. Jungkook’s body towers over you, glistening in sweat as he nails you into your mattress. “Remember what I said?” he asks, voice but a shuddery exhale. You shake your head numbly, overwhelmed by the rough drag across your walls. “All those months ago, when you first came over,” he adds. The hand on your hip abandons its post to cup you beneath the jaw, palm pressing sinfully against your throat enough to block the tiniest of airflow. “I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he murmurs, voice deeper than the pits of hell. He licks a fat stripe over your cheek like you’re nothing but a sweet for him to devour. “Do you remember that, pretty girl?”

You nod jerkily, hips arching up into him when he thrusts into you again. It’s a memory that replays in your mind every so often, your first night with the man you had planned to humiliate over a mere misunderstanding, now your boyfriend of one year. “Want that,” you gasp, tears blurring your vision when he begins picking up the pace. “Wanna be y-your pretty girl forever.”

Jungkook groans, kissing the corner of your mouth. His thighs are some magnificent beings, keeping his pace consistent even as he loses himself in his overwhelming need to kiss you. “Always,” he manages, soft lips pressed against yours. “I won’t ever let you leave.”

A shriek tears itself from your lips as he picks up that harsh piston, releasing your jaw to hold both wrists above your head. It makes his curls dangle in front of his eyes, covering that beautiful dark gaze. It makes his thin little necklace swing back and forth too, though it’s too small to actually touch your face. The rhythmic swing has you hypnotized, just like everything else about Jungkook.

With the length of his hair, you’re left staring at his lips, pulled taut between his pearly white teeth. The word from before sits heavy in your chest, begs to drip from the tip of your tongue. But he’s moving too fast and too hard, scrambling your thoughts until all you can think about is the cock plunging into your heat. His name falls from your mouth like mindless blubber instead, arms thrashing as your second orgasm swallows you up. It sends you crashing, body spasming as the sheer euphoria waves over you slowly and then all at once.

“Perfect,” he grunts, leaning down to slot his mouth against yours, “my perfect girl.” Your cum makes the sound of his hips erotic, the loud squelching following your panting. Still sensitive from your high, your body unconsciously tightens around him, keeps his cock from fully leaving. It brings a soft whine out of Jungkook, one he tries to muffle against the side of your face.

“Inside,” you whimper, even though your body feels like jelly beneath him. “Cum inside, Kook, please,” you beg.

It only takes a few more thrusts into your leaking hole for him to finally reach paradise, hips stuttering when that first shot of pleasure hits him. “Fuck, fuck,” he growls, wildly snapping his hips into your achy cunt. You moan, feeling just about brainless at the overstimulation. His cum leaves you full, almost makes your belly bulge from it. When he’s done he doesn’t bother pulling away, simply slumping into your limp form. His cock, though quickly softening, serves as a plug for the cum threatening to spill out of you.

There’s a muted noise coming from the other room, the faint sound of the mail slipping through your letterbox, the quiet chattering of the street outside. And of course, the loud blaring of your laptop playing the Phineas and Ferb theme song. Jungkook registers it at about the same time as you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

He pushes off of you soon after, leaning on his palms over you. He’s got that molten look on his eyes, the heat of a thousand suns burning behind those irises as he looks at you. Like he can’t get enough, even though he’s just about taken everything there is to take. “Love you,” he murmurs quietly.

A drop of sweat rolls over his forehead, clinging to the end of his eyebrow. You reach up and brush it away, let your hand trail down his face to cup his cheek. Immediately he leans into the touch, eyes falling half shut. “Love you more,” you respond.

“Impossible,” he scoffs.

Soon after you’re both stumbling out of bed, clothes haphazardly shrugged back on as you drift through the living room. There’s a thin, hot pink package sitting at the door, just having slipped through the letterbox; the stark Sexuality Unleashed logo is printed on the visible side, so you have to wonder what Doyeon could have possibly ordered this time that could be so thin. The laptop is awkwardly sandwiched next to a throw pillow, barely open a crack. Jungkook retrieves it, sets it on his lap as you scamper over to the couch.

“More Phineas and Ferb?” he asks quietly. He hates it, you know he does. And still, he wants to watch it with you.

You nod. “Please.”

He isn’t so concerned with the plot as you, clicking some random episode to start. You snuggle into his side, quietly singing along to the opening. After a moment, Jungkook speaks again. “Phineas and Flirt?” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes. “That might’ve been your worst one yet,” you sigh, trying to drown out his indignant huff by focusing on the screen.

“I don’t exactly see you coming up with these,” he points out, obviously feeling wronged.

Without missing a beat you say, “Disney+ and bust.”

epilogue

commercial break one ; the resolution

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet- Joe Toye

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Ok, so here’s the 411- Joe gives it his all when y’all are fucking. He’s flipping you around into different positions, he’s gripping whatever part of your body he can get his hands so he can reach deeper faster harder better, Joe is fully prepared to do all the work.

That being said, the boy’s EXHAUSTED by the time he’s done with you. You’re lucky if he doesn’t collapse on you in a sweaty, sleepy mess. But after he’s had a second to regroup and rally- he’s totally down for some pillow talk.

WARNING: it’s going to be in that sexy husky voice of his, which means round two is imminent.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog).

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel.

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him.

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience.

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again.

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside.

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world @holdingforgeneralhugs @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

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

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

- NINE YEARS -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And, the other girl you saw is—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Happy to be working with you."

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

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

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

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

"Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks. Mobs made it."

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

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

"Here."

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

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

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

"Do you, though?" He asks.

"Do I what?"

"Look forward to working here."

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

"Very big."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

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

He needs to fucking call Erwin.

"Hey, bro, what's up?"

"Dude," is all Mike says at first.

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It—Wait, what did she say?"

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

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

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

"No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

"Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts.

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

"Could have been better too."

"What? How—"

"Could have bent her over the desk and—"

"Dude!"

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, yeah."

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

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

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

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

"Hitch—"

"Breathe!"

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

"What are you, my therapist?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Agreed."

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

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

"Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?"

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would you—"

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

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

"Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

"And, Maddie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why?" You question with a head shake.

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

"No, I—"

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

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

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

"Then, talk."

"Mm, pass."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Uh, yeah?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is not a productive work environment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't wanna talk!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike frowns. "Uh, no?"

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

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

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

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

"Well—"

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

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

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

"I'm hanging up now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I didn't say anything!" He laughs.

"You don't have to. I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where'd you even find those?"

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

"So, you went… dumpster diving?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ew."

"Just spitball. Throw it at me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What of it?"

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

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

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

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

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

"It was a frat boy car."

"You were a frat boy!"

"And, now I'm a professional."

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

"Most of the time."

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

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

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

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

Then, you shake your head.

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

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

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

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

"Yeah?"

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

"Tomorrow?"

"I mean, if that works for you."

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

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

"I've always been an early riser."

"Not from what I remember."

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

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

"Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

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

“Didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I, honestly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for letting the past stay there.

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

“I really think we do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then, what are you saying?”

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

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

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

“Do you not feel the same way then?”

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

“You were in love?”

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

“Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's my fuckin' girl."

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

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

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

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

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

"Come on, baby, you can do it. Just—'

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

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

"Jesus fuck!"

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

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

"Miche, please."

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

"Good enough to fuck me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I—I—I—..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But, not yet. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

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

"Jesus fucking—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We were, weren't we?"

"Mhm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wasn't positive."

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

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

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

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

But first, he needs to call his mom.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A small pink box.

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

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

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

"You are fucking impossible, you know that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, good call, bro."

"I hate both of you."

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

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

"Against my better judgement," you smirk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles.

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

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

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