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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

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The Garden Thief (M)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).

Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour's rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.

A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!

...

“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—

You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”

The ears immediately disappear, ducking down behind the barrier. The sound of his hurried footsteps trailing away are followed only by the slamming of a door.

You rush into and through your own house carrying the wilted carrot greens. Exiting out the front, and over to the house next to yours, where you repeatedly press the bell.

The entry whips open on the fourth ring to reveal Jungkook. His face is flushed, beads of sweat racing down his brow, and a shirt that one would normally use to cover their chest, is instead thrown over his shoulder. “Something wrong neighbour?” He asks with a carrot stick in hand. Bringing it to his mouth, he taunts you with a bite and crooked grin.

“Is-is your caretaker home?” You stutter trying your best to swallow your nerves. Concentrating hard on his face, you plead with your eyes not to wander down. That’s exactly what he wants, a reason to put you off your mission, to make you so flustered that you have to walk away. He’s always trying to use his allure against you, and you hate how often he succeeds doing just that...

“No, he’s at work.”

“When will he be back?”

“Not sure, maybe a week, or two? He’s on a business trip.”

Your gaze falters in it’s determination for a brief second as a drop of sweat descends from his neck to his chest. Holding your breath you watch it’s path, tracing the valleys between his muscles. When Jungkook finally wipes it away your brain catches up and scolds you for your weakness. “And he left you here, alone?” You ask, while trying to recollect your dignity, reminding yourself of how much grief he has put you through.

“Of course.” Jungkook’s smile grows. “I’m not just some common pet. I know how to behave myself.”

The statement makes your brow twitch, enraging you enough to overcome his tactics. “I know you haven’t been here long, but you should know, people typically don’t like it when someone steals from their yard.” You lecture him, waving the carrot tops in front of his face. “So stop treating my garden like your own personal snack bar!”

“Now why would I take from you? I have plenty of food here, even got another delivery this morning.” The hybrid kicks at a box next him filled with a vibrant collection of fresh produce and grains.

“I don’t know why. I just know it was you.”

“Prove it.” He prods, while taking the last bite of the vegetable from his hand.

The loud crunching gnaws on your composure, stripping you of any patience you may have had for the hybrid. “This all started when you moved in, and I’ve ruled everything else out!” You shout, but as good as it might feel to finally vent your anger, you feel as though you’re somehow playing into his hand.

“That doesn’t seem like very good evidence. It’s circumstantial at best. If you want to find out who the real culprit is you should have a stake out.”

“A stake out?”

“Yeah, you know, watch over the garden for the night, catch the criminal in the act. I could even help if you’d like.”

You scoff at the ridiculous notion. “You really think I should invite you over to guard my crops?”

“I do, so I’ll come over tonight? Say around seven?” You open your mouth to object, but the rabbit hybrid jumps from one statement to the next casually inviting himself into your own home. “Perfect. See you then.”

“I didn’t-no wait, that was sar-” The door closes between you before you can finish. Leaving you baffled and alone on the doorstep. You ready to knock but stop just before your knuckles hit the wood. Trying again right now is a lost cause, it’ll just play into his game. So why waste your breath when you know it’ll just end the same way? Tonight then, as he suggested, that’s when you’ll be ready to hit him with some hard evidence that he won’t be able to refute.

Admitting defeat for now, you retreat back to your garden to pick the surviving vegetables and contemplate the encounter. You wish your could have just spoken to Jungkook’s caretaker—fuck what was his name again? You’ve only seen the man a couple times since they took the house, but at least he doesn't give you a nervous knot in your stomach, or leave you confused and speechless like his hybrid does.

It’s been three months since they moved in. You were excited at first, to have new neighbours in your almost vacant cul-de-sac. Buyers don’t seem to be interested in the old houses with large lots in your area. Too much work to maintain, and not enough good job prospects to go around. So when you saw the sold sign go up you were beyond thrilled. Greeting the new residents with a fruit basket and a smile.

The rabbit hybrid you now know as Jungkook appeared rather shy at first, you did your best to welcome him. Always greeting him when he was outside, trying to engage him in small chat, but the first time you caught him during his workout everything changed. Until that point you had not considered him as anything but a prospective friend. You were stunned to see him in such a confident state, throwing around his weights like they were nothing. In that moment, with you too nervous to admit that you found him attractive, you became the anxious and blubbering fool in his presence, and he, unfortunately, took note. The once quiet and cute rabbit, became a flirtatious and bratty bunny.

And since then, whenever you would work in your garden he’d be on the other side of the fence grunting and panting. Staying close to the gap in the divider, a missing panel you had yet to replace. On days like today you would often look up from your radishes and accidentally lock eyes with the hybrid, drenched in sweat and showing off his skills.

Out of respect and self preservation you tried your best to not to pay attention, to keep your nose buried in your garden, but as the weeks went by the vegetables under your care started to disappear. The ample crops you tended to in the evening, lessened by morning, with only the refuse remaining to indicate it’s former presence. You didn’t want to point fingers immediately, but today was the final straw, and tonight no matter how hard he tries to distract you, you will find him guilty.

After harvesting the choice crops for the day and watering the rest. You dust yourself off, settling inside and in front of your computer; opening the visitors page for your place of work, the city's greenhouse conservatory. To help promote the centre in the community the staff all take turns writing articles revolving around their own projects or home gardens, and you’re up next in the rotation. You stare at the blank document for several minutes trying your best to concentrate on the task, but you are unable to think of anything other than the mischievous hybrid next door.

Embracing the topic of your aggravation, you start the post off with a title sure to catch the eye of any reader, ‘Garden Thieves.’

‘We’ve all been there, finding a tomato just about to reach its peak ripeness. We give it another day to grow into perfection, only to find it missing later on. In your absence something else has taken it into its own clutches. I myself have been dealing with a vegetable thief for several weeks, so if you are struggling like I am, here are a few things that might help. ’

You proceed to outline several garden pests uploading photos of their damage, along with quick remedies to deter their presence. Netting to block the sparrows, raised beds and fences to keep out most rodents or mammals, and a caffeine solution to stave off slugs.

‘I hope this may help you all in your efforts to keep your plants safe, but I must add a disclaimer. Unfortunately nothing here is completely foolproof. Even if you do follow all of these steps you still might lose some of your crops to a crafty critter. But I wish you the best of luck on all of your backyard battles. I myself plan to face off with my own long-eared menace tonight.’

You finish your post with a smile. Sending it off to your coworker Namjoon to get his approval before you make it public.

He calls a few minutes later, his laughter carrying through the speaker. “That was easily the best article you’ve written all year. You should definitely post it.”

“Thanks.” You chuckle, hitting the submit button. At the very least feeling a bit relieved to have one less task weighing on your mind. “I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I take it you’re still having trouble with that hybrid neighbour of yours?”

“Yeah,” you groan. You’ve complained to Namjoon about the issue several times in the past month. It must have been all too easy for him to read between the lines and see what set you off to create this specific entry. “But he refuses to admit it was him. It’s like he’s trying to make me question my skills as a gardener and I hate it! I went over to talk to his caretaker but he’s away on business for a couple weeks.”

“He left him alone for that long? What about food?”

“He’s been getting deliveries. By the looks of it, he has a healthier diet than I do.”

Namjoon pauses on the line giving you only a simple, “Huh...” in a long break.

“What?”

“Well it’s just-” A loud buzzing sound erupts through the phone line cutting off his answer. A noise you know to indicate someone is at the back door. “That’s weird. I didn’t think we were supposed to get anything delivered today. No one else is here.... did you have anything scheduled to come in?”

“No.” You double check the calendar sitting on your desk. “I shouldn’t have anything until next Monday.”

Namjoon puts you on hold while he checks on the reason for the interruption, returning only a minute later. “It’s a delivery all right, but are you sure these aren’t yours? I’m seeing a lot of tropical species on the invoice. Combretum rotundifolium, Heliconia angusta, Myrciaria dubia-”

You mouth a swear as Namjoon carries on with his list. It’s obvious they are indeed the specimens of your expected batch. You're in the process of redesigning one of the tropical habitats. The lead director was adamant that the conservatory host a butterfly exhibition in the next coming year, and in order to support the grandiose endeavour you are required to introduce a vast amount of new flowering species over the next few months. “How many in total?”

“About two dozen. Looking pretty rough from the journey too.”

You’re not surprised by their current state. This summer is already one of the hottest and driest on record, and all the stock you had received this season was excessively wilted and near death because of it. “Do we have any holding houses with humidifiers available?”

“Not at the moment,” There’s a clatter in the background as Namjoon sorts through what must be the slack of clipboards. “But I’ve got the inspection chart here and your last delivery did just finish it’s quarantine. No signs of pests or illness, so they’re clear to plant. That should free up some space for you.”

“That’ll have to do. Thanks for checking.” Standing up from your desk with a sorrowful sigh. You mourn the loss or your afternoon off as you start to dress for a day of hard labour. Throwing on your work-issued overalls over your t-shirt and shorts. Unfortunately you can’t just leave the new stock to sit out under the beating sun. With little humidity outside and no protection they’ll be burnt to a crisp if you delay too long. But the worst part is that your planting staff isn’t scheduled until later in the week, and that volume of work will put you well into the middle of the night before you complete it. “I’ll be in soon to deal with it.”

“That’s a lot of planting to do on your own. I can help if you-”

“I can’t take you away from your trees, isn’t there a bonsai exhibition next week you have to prepare them for?” He’s been agonizing over this showcase for so long you couldn’t possibly inconvenience him now with your own troubles. “It’s fine, really. I’ll call to see if anyone else is willing to come in today.” You hang up letting Namjoon return to his tasks, and work your way down the contacts for the gardening staff as you prepare yourself to leave. Though as expected, all of those who answer have prior commitments and won’t be able to assist.

Grabbing your badge and plans for the updates to the garden you slip back out into the noon-day sun, so strong it’s turned your car into an oven on wheels. You’re just about to pull it into reverse when you spot the blinds shift in your neighbour’s window. Prompting you to recall the plans he had made for tonight.

With all the work you have, it’s doubtful you’ll be back home for seven. You return to Jungkook’s door to give him the news. He has it open before you can even knock, his usual smirk crawling across his face as he greets you.

“About tonight... something has come up at work and I really don’t know how late I’ll be.”

His ears perk up. “You’re going into the conservatory?”

“Yeah,” you respond, somewhat shocked that he remembered where you work. It’s been a couple months since you mentioned it while introducing yourself to him and his caretaker. “An order came in earlier than expected. I’ll likely be planting all day and night.”

“I can help,” he offers, already stepping out to join you, and locking the door behind him.

“You want to help?”

“Of course, isn’t that the neighbourly thing to do?”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want it or expect it from someone who terrorizes my own garden.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook corrects. “And wouldn’t you rather have me with you, under your supervision, than here, all alone with only a measly fence between me and your impressive bell pepper harvest?”

“Stay away from my peppers!” You scold, pointing your finger at him. “Even if I wanted to take you, what about your caretaker? Don’t you need his permission to leave and work?”

“He’s never paid attention to my whereabouts before, and it’s not work if you don’t pay me. I’ll just be a volunteer. You have people volunteer all the time right?”

“Yes but-”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Alright, fine.” You finally agree though with a heavy dose of reluctance. Namjoon often brings his own hybrid in so it shouldn’t be a problem. “But if I see you nibble on even a single leaf, you’re coming straight back here.”

“Deal.” He rushes past you straight to your passenger seat and buckles himself in. Practically bouncing with excitement beside you as you pull out and head towards the conservatory.

The minutes pass and you try your best to focus on the road but you’ve never been so close to Jungkook in such a small space. And with his built frame taking up most of the car, he’s hard for you to ignore. His ears folded against the roof and his shoulders so wide they brush repeatedly against yours.

“Ever been to the conservatory before?” You ask, trying to divert your mind from the battle which builds inside you. A wavering war between frustration and attraction, with the former trying it’s best to pin down the latter, a move which only arouses the latter more...

“No, I’ve wanted to go ever since you mentioned it but my caretaker hasn’t had the time.”

“Oh.” A sense of pity joins the ranks of your emotions, nudging at you as you pull into the lot. “Sorry, I didn’t-”

“Why are you sorry?” Jungkook asks in a low whisper, snapping back to his flirtatious behaviours. His mouth turns up at the corner as he leans into you, so close that his drooping ears graze the top of your head. “Would you have taken me earlier if I had mentioned it?”

“N-no,” you choke out. Placing your hand on his solid chest, you push him back and away. As tempting as his advance might be to accept, you know his forwardness to be nothing more than an act to make a fool of you. Why else would he try to both seduce you, and steal from right under your nose? “You’re only here today because I am in desperate need of help, and I can’t trust you to be alone.”

...

You lead him through the unoccupied greenhouses. The conservation is closed to the public today (as it is every Monday and Tuesday); which usually allows for some time off, but at least now it’ll give you a chance to work unimpeded by visitors. Your own curated section is located in the most humid of all the houses, set in such a way to mimic the tropical environment you are attempting to represent.

The first stop is the holding house where the carts of new stock wait just outside. Grabbing an empty trolly you enter and start to load up those that are ready to plant. Jungkook following your actions does the same, easily lifting the heavy planters that you yourself struggle with. “Thanks,” you whisper as he relieves you of a particularly burdensome tree. To which he smiles in return.

After making the switch, by placing the recent delivery in the house for it’s quarantine, you lead him to the supply closet. Where you collect a couple shovels, trowels, and two pairs of gloves. As you continue to scan for anything else you might require, Jungkook pops in behind looking at the shelves with a sense of curiosity. He reaches up and over you to a spray bottle labeled ‘slug repellent.’

“We won’t need that, it’s for the outdoor gardens,” You explain. “It’s just a mixture of ca-”

“Caffeine and water?”

You snap your gaze to him. “How do you know that?”

He bites his lip as a snicker starts to escape. “Just a bit of morning reading. I found an interesting article with that particular tidbit. One which also happened to reference the exploits of a long-eared menace.”

“Y-you read the conservatory blog? You read my post? No one reads that, there can’t have been more than ten views!”

“Which is such a shame.” He goads you. “I’ve found your work to be both informative and comical. You really have me rooting for you in your quest to catch your thief.”

You groan in utter fury. “Why must you be so-so-”

“Handsome? Funny? Caring?”

“Antagonizing!”

“Because you seem to take more notice when I am.” Jungkook answers, with a turn of his heel, his tail poking out from under his shirt as he starts to walk away with the cart. “And I like seeing that perplexed look of yours. Your nose is cute when you scrunch it up like that.”

You remain in the shed, your traitorous heart beating erratically over the fact that he called a part of you cute. While your more sensible side grabs your nose and smooths out the wrinkles he referenced.

“Should we get to work?” He calls out after you. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go home and expose that bandit of yours.”

You roll your eyes and follow him out, before taking the lead to your tropical glasshouse. The air sticks to your skin the moment you enter. Jungkook lets out a long exhale behind you tugging on the collar of his shirt. “Is it always like this in here?”

“It’s a bit warmer today, but not by much. Are you already regretting your decision to help?” You tease him.

“Nope,” he answers, slinging a shovel over his shoulder. “Show me where to dig, and I’ll get to it.”

Pulling out your plans for the new exhibit arrangement, you select a couple species placing them on the empty plots of garden as directed, careful to allow for future growth. Jungkook follows behind digging out their new homes faster than at least three of your staff members combined.

You stare at him for a second, unable to believe the pace at which he’s going. “Something wrong?” He asks, pausing to lock eyes with you.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d be so quick at digging.”

“I’m part rabbit, what did you expect?” Jungkook boasts with a chuckle and a raised brow. “I share their strengths. Especially when it comes to burrowing and fu-”

His words are cut short when a fresh breeze from the outside washes over the both of you, a sure sign that someone must have entered the greenhouse. Your neighbour goes rigid, his nose lifts into the air and his ears fall back flat against his head. “Jungkook what’s-” Leaping up he closes the gap and grabs you. Tucking you into him with his chin resting on your head, where a warm and earthy scent envelopes you. His breaths are quick and deep, causing his chest to rapidly rise and fall against your back.

Namjoon’s voice calls out to you. “... are you in here?”

“Over here!” You yell out in reply, before turning back to the hybrid who still has you locked in his clutches. “What the hell Jungkook? Let me go! Now’s not the time for your games.” Sure it might feel nice to be wrapped in his arms, to get lost amidst his aroma. At any other time you might even consider taking a moment before chastising his boldness. But here? Now? And with Namjoon coming to greet you? No, this is too much.

You try to push him away like you have before, but this time it’s as if he’s set in stone, and not registering you at all. He focuses only on the direction your coworker's voice hailed from. “That scent, he smells like-”

“There you are.” Namjoon interrupts stepping around a flowering bush and into view, looking surprised by your guest. “Oh, hello there.”

The point of Jungkook's chin rubs against your head as he grips you even tighter. Embarrassed and confused by the hybrids embrace. “Jungkook, this is Namjoon.” You introduce your coworker while delivering an elbow to Jungkook’s gut. He finally snaps out of his trace and lets you go though he continues to hover behind. “He works with the bonsai of the conservatory.”

“You must be the neighbour I’ve heard so much about, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Namjoon extends his hand to the hybrid, but Jungkook ignores the gesture, choosing to glare instead, with his nostrils flared and his ears pinned back.

“Jungkook?” You whisper trying to chase him from his mood.

Namjoon gives him a nervous smile. “You probably smell my hybrid, on me don’t you?”

“A hybrid?” Jungkook confirms, his eyes narrowed at Namjoon.

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I’m sure the scent of a predator, especially a tiger, is a bit of a shock. He’s harmless, I promise.”

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask, hoping to see his affectionate part-feline companion.

“Nah, he’s with a friend today. I needed to get some work done and he’d be more of a distraction than a help... but it would seem that didn’t stop him from scenting my shirt before I left.” Namjoon explains, and then turns to your neighbour again. “Jungkook would you mind if I borrow her for a second? I need help with one of my tropical species.”

Jungkook gives a solemn nod. For the first time since you’ve known him, he looks frightened, and somewhat hesitant to release you over to your coworker.

Worried by his current disposition, you reassure him with a squeeze on his arm. “Just keep digging where I’ve placed those pots and I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon leads you into the adjacent greenhouse where you can continue to keep watch of Jungkook through the pains of glass. But the instant the doors close between you, Namjoon starts bombarding you with questions. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long has it been going on? ”

You take a step back having been caught off guard. “Tell you what?”

“About you and Jungkook! Is the feuding neighbours just a cover story?” Namjoon’s eyes are wide and hopeful as he carries on, not letting you fit a single word in. “Don’t worry, I won’t inform anyone you're together. I know it’s not easy having a human-hybrid relationship out in the open. But I think you should be careful about going out into public because he’s far too obvious about it.”

“We’re not- we’re not a couple. Why would you think such a thing?”

“Because the way held you, he looked like he was marking you with his own scent. That’s what rabbits do isn’t it? They rub their chins on what they want to claim as their own.”

“They do what?” You ask, stunned by the possibility, before the realism settles back in. It must just be Jungkook’s idea of a joke. “No, that’s not what he’s doing, our connection is nothing remotely like that. Don’t get me wrong he’s very attractive, and he knows it.” You mutter the last part under your breath. “But-”

“But you really are having trouble with him. It's not a cover?”

“You think I would keep something like that from you?” Namjoon over the years has come to be your closest confidant. A good friend and coworker, you would never dream of hiding something like that from him.

“I suppose not.”

“Is that why you brought me back here, to question my relationship status?”

“Not entirely.” Namjoon shakes his head with a small dimpled smile and changes the subject. “I do actually want to get your help with one of my new acquisitions.” He points out an unusual tree on his work bench, much too big for the pot it’s currently situated in. It’s extensive roots spill out over the top and threaten to swallow the pot whole. “A Ficus microcarpa, far from the most sought after species when it comes to reputable bonsai, but I couldn’t pass this one up. It has such good character.”

“What made it grow in such a way?” You examine the plant and it’s container with care, prying between the roots and taking note of cracks starting to form in the terracotta.

“The last owner neglected it for far too long. It sat hidden in the back of a commercial greenhouse, still under the watering and fertilizing system, but since it was confined to such a small space it tried to root it’s way out. If I were to guess, it probably hasn’t seen a new pot for at least five years.”

“It’s a miracle it survived.” You nod impressed by the tree’s determination. “What’s your plan for it?”

“Give it what it wants, let it leach out. I doubt I would be able to pry it out entirely without causing significant damage to the roots that are gripping the sides, so instead I want to put another bellow to catch it and give it the fresh soil and room it needs.” Namjoon lays the tree and pot down on the table, and asks you to hold and support the trunk, while he taps and pokes at the bottom of the vessel with a metal trowel. Enlarging the cracks, but not breaking the pot fully. It’s a tedious process. The small chunks of clay are removed piece by piece, giving him access to see and free some of the tightly bound roots inside.

While your coworker continues his task, your eyes are free to wonder. You check on Jungkook through the glass, as he kneels in front of the garden bed digging even faster than before.

Namjoon appears to notice your distracted state. “How's he doing?”

“Fine I guess.” You whisper. “He’s acting stranger than usual today though. He stole from my garden again. Invited himself over to my house, then here, and you saw what he did back there.”

“Huh...” Namjoon mutters, trailing off the same way he did on the phone.

“What is this ‘huh’ you keep giving me? You know I don’t like games Namjoon. If you have something you want to say, say it.”

“It’s about what you said earlier, how his caretaker leaves for extended periods of time. Usually if an animal is alone for too long they look for ways to stimulate themselves and resort to their natural instincts, scavenging and such. But he’s a hybrid and therefore part human, so if you were isolated and restricted to your house what would you do?”

“Probably look for the closest person I could find. So he’s acting out in my garden and teasing me, because he’s lonely?”

“I think so.” Namjoon responds as he extracts another root, freeing it from its confines.

“But why?” You ask, worried for the answer to come. “Why wouldn’t he just say something?”

“There could be a number of reasons. He might not understand what he’s doing on a conscious level, or he might be afraid to show any sign of weakness to you or anyone else. Jungkook is part prey animal, and humans are all too often predators.”

“If that’s the case...” You curse yourself for not realizing it sooner. The fury you held for him slowly fades away as you replay every encounter in your mind. He was literally jumping at the chance to spend time with you, to help you with your work, and you were to blind to see it. Your anger over your missing vegetables is so trivial in comparison to what he must have been going through. The loneliness he must have felt, and the inability to admit it, you can’t imagine how he suffered through it alone. “What can I do to help him? I have no legal claim to him Namjoon. What can I do within such limitations?”

He looks down at his work in progress. “The way I see it you and he, like this small tree, have three options. You could maintain the status quo, leave him be, but how long will he be able to survive like he is? Creeping over the edge but grasping on to nothingness?”

You shake your head vehemently rejecting the idea while Namjoon continues.

“You could report his caretaker for neglect, breaking the container entirely, but that too could be very damaging to him, tearing him away entirely could put him in a state of shock, and in a home that is no better for him, while the legal battle is decided. Or...” Namjoon grabs another container, slightly wider than the one in which the plant is seated. Filling it with substrate he takes the tree clinging to it’s partial pot and places it on top. Pressing the newly freed roots down into the soil.

“You could support him, give him a better home just outside of his own where he can be himself and access what he needs. I personally think it’s your safest option for now.” Namjoon leads over inspecting the bonsai and lowers his voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “Until the day, when it is possible to fully cast the pot aside.”

You nod, though now left to grapple with what you could possibly have to offer the hybrid. “I’m not sure I would be the best person to care for him.”

“I think Jungkook would disagree. He was already trying to scent you. That to me, implies his desire for something more in the realm of an intimate relationship.” You choke on your breath as Namjoon comes to an additional conclusion. Upon seeing your distress he makes a suggestion. “Of course you could keep it strictly to friendship between the two of you and I’m sure that will improve his situation, but his other needs will need to be met for him to feel completely at home...”

“His other needs? You think he wants to be with me? Intimately?! No! Surely he would have acted differently if that was his intent! He’s done nothing but tease me when he catches me even remotely looking in his direction.”

“So you have been looking at him!” Namjoon taunts you with a massive grin. Apologizing a second later when you proceed to glare at him. “But to answer your question, no, not necessarily. You have to remember most of society deems him a lesser being. He could be feeling a lot of guilt and pressure not to engage with you in that way. Though he might not outright say it, I bet his instincts will continue to shine through. I’ll even prove it to you.” Namjoon takes off a glove and rubs your head. “I bet this rabbit of yours will take less than a minute before he tries to replace the smell of my hand with his own again... trust me.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “I should probably get back to him.” You are just about to step away when your thoughts return to the long neglected plant. “Where do you plan to house that when you’re finished? Ficuses naturally belong in a more tropical location don’t they?”

“They do, especially if I want to give it a better chance. It’s going to need a place far more humid than this space.”

“Was this all your calculated way of guilting me to store it in my greenhouse too?”

“The thought might have crossed my mind.” Namjoon gives you a sly grin. “But my logic is still sound in regards to Jungkook. He needs someone, he needs a better home... and it would seem he’s chosen you.”

...

You wander back to your greenhouse, still full of doubt. Finding Jungkook to have finished most of the required digging.

“Sorry for leaving you.”

“You-you okay?” He asks, upon seeing the dazed look on your face and then scowling in the direction that Namjoon led you.

“Fine, he just needed help with one of his plants. Sorry about earlier, I didn’t think you’d be affected by the scent of his hybrid, Taehyung is rather sweet though, you’d like him.”

“You trust him then?” Jungkook grumbles as he pierces his shovel into the ground. “You trust Namjoon and his hybrid?”

“Of course, why shouldn’t I?”

“Because it wasn’t just a tiger that I smelled. He’s been around a lot of hybrids. Every scent on him told me to run, all of them put there by dangerous predators.”

“Oh,” you shoot back in surprise. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Taehyung is rather popular, he has a lot of friends and Namjoon often caters them at his place. You don’t need to worry, you're safe here.”

“It’s not myself I’m worried about.”

Jungkook inches closer as you crouch to place the plants in the holes he dug. His nose twitches as he takes a deep breath, his eyes watching while you bury the root ball in the warm soil, firmly securing the trunk of the young tree.

While you are leaning down, Jungkook reaches across to the other side of you. Grabbing the trowel to your right despite the fact that the same tool can be found on his left. The bottom of his chin grazes the top of your head and lingers for a spell. Your heart stops in that moment while questioning his motives. Though Namjoon said he’d do just this, you still can’t be entirely sure that it proves him correct; Jungkook might just not have seen the other option available to him, and he’s never bothered about invading your space. This could be nothing, though there’s a small growing part of you that wants it more and more to be something.

“He’s a good guy,” you promise, returning to the conversation so as to not dwell on his actions. “He even suggested that I should bring you along more often, if you’re interested in spending some of your days here.”

“He did?”

You nod. A small white lie, but not entirely incorrect, and if it gets him to accept Namjoon easier you’ll all be better for it. “I wouldn’t expect you to work, but you're more than welcome to just hang around. The staff here could always use some company and I’m sure it would beat staying at home alone all day.”

“I would like that. I would like that a lot, but would you want me to keep you company too?”

“If that’s what you want to do.”

“No, I need to know if that’s what you want.” He looks over to you pinning you down in his line of sight.

“I suppose I would....” You answer and turn your head, unable to bear the nerves that his gaze brings. The both of you fall quiet. Knowing what you know now, being free of your anger for him leaves you vulnerable, open to his persuasion, and now you are no longer certain of how to act. So you start to rely on what has made him comfortable in the past, and interject with a new condition to bring an end to the awkward silence. “As long as you treat this garden better than mine back home.”

Jungkook lets out a long laugh. “I have nothing but the highest respect for your garden.”

...

When planting is finished your clothes are entirely saturated in sweat and your muscles aching from use. It’s hard to believe how much you’ve both done in such a short amount of time. While carting up the supplies, Jungkook’s eyes catch on something behind you. You look around spotting the newly potted bonsai on a back table. Namjoon must have dropped it off while you both were busy.

Looking at it now you can’t help but notice how even the shape of its leaves remind you of the hybrid’s ears, long, pointed, and reaching up to the sky. You consider your friend's words one more time and while Jungkook leans over to inspect the tree. Reaching out to his back, your hand shakes with hesitation before setting down on a spot just below his shoulder. He softens under your touch, a low hum leaving his lips. His attention turns from the plant to you. With your hand still in place, your arm is now wrapped around him, leaving only an inch between the two of you. You stand there fixed and unmoving, but content in the knowledge, that you seem to have left him speechless this time. His eyes darting away from yours, to your lips, your neck, and finally the hand you place upon his chest.

Only to have the moment broken when you can hear and feel the rumble from his stomach. His nervous laugh follows as he reaches up to scratch behind his ear.

“Hungry?”

He nods in response, his eyes wide as he remains unusually silent.

“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner.” You offer as you turn him around to head to the car.

...

You both settle on a take out spot, and return home to wash up and eat.

After finishing your meal and tearing off your overalls, you both settle down on the hammock in your yard. With Jungkook’s legs long enough to touch the ground, he slowly rocks the seat back and forth. He’s been near silent since that close moment together. He’s never had a problem with banter and flirtation, but now you’ve come to notice that any attention which can’t be passed off as a joke causes him to flounder.

Laying back in the hammock, both full and content, your eyes threaten to close after the long day as Jungkook continues to sit beside you. The sound of crickets lulling you to sleep. “Keep an eye out for that thief of mine will you?” You may not like games but if it makes him comfortable, and keeps him talking, you’ll continue to play this ruse with him.

“You trust me to keep watch without your supervision?”

“Are you suggesting I shouldn’t?”

“No, it’s just a lot more credit than you usually give me.”

“I think you’ve earned it.” You whisper as you finally drift off.

It feels like only a few minutes of rest before the sun sets and the air turns cool. Jungkook’s chin comes to rest on the top of your head like it did back in the greenhouse. He shifts his weight, burrowing his arms around and behind to cover you as he takes deep breaths. You lean into him seeking the warmth of his chest. No longer restricted by your childish anger to enjoy his company is a welcome relief, you only wish you could relinquish him of any of his own troubles and doubts. And then, you feel it, a drop of cold rain hitting your neck. The hammock moves again as he adjusts, the back of his fingers running across the damp spot. Another finds your cheek and he wipes that away too, your skin shivering in response.

But when a speck lands your mouth he stops. You wait, a second, then two. Your anticipation grows with face heating up and your chest tightening as you continue to crave his touch. You want him to wipe it away, to touch you, to act on whatever desires he might be keeping. You part your lips with the desperate hope that he will take the hint. Rejoicing when the warm pad of his thumb spreads the drop across the delicate skin.

He comes down on to you, his mouth catching any and all remains of the droplet as he encases your lips. Jungkook places a hand on your neck while the other grabs the ropes of the hammock, his legs straddle your hips. The scattered rain turns to a downpour as he remains fixed to your mouth, even his form isn’t enough to shield you from the current washing down from the sky.

As your hands reach up to his own damp and curling locks entwining your fingers in the strands he moans and nips. But as quickly as it started, so too does it end. When Jungkook snaps up as though jolted from a dream. His ears point back as an apology flows from him. “I-I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Jungkook,” you call out to him but he ignores you as he tries to detangle himself. When one foot hits the ground. You grab his waist and try again. “Jungkook, you don’t have to be sorry.” But instead of stopping he merely pulls you off and along with him, sending you both to the muddy ground, but this time with you on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks the loud pouring of the rain forcing him to raise the volume of his voice.

You chuckle at his concern considering he’s the one flat on his back. “I think I should be asking you that question instead.” You pause as he mirrors your grin. “Why did you stop? Did I do something wrong?”

“No.” He looks up at you, his brow furrowing. “You did nothing wrong. It was me. I was the one acting on my instincts. I shouldn’t have done that when I know how much you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you...” You explain, trying your best not to be drowned out by the water cascading down. “The things you did might have annoyed me, but I get it now. I’m just sorry it took me so long to notice.”

“Notice what?”

“How fucked up your situation is. For not realizing how alone you must have been. How caged you must have felt. I’ve been so focused on my own little world that I didn’t realize what was happening or why you were acting the way you were. I like you, a lot, but I was too wrapped up in my frustration to say how I felt...”

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head. “I am not innocent in this. I should have been paying more attention.”

“Then pay attention to me now.” He begs with his round eyes shining up at you.

“But in what way? As a neighbour, as a friend, or maybe something more?" Your voice cracks in desperation, trying to find his needs while also hoping they are the same as yours. “Is that why you were always teasing me the way you did? You wanted something more?”

“You really want to know?” Jungkook’s tone is low as it grips on to his every word. “I did it because it was the only thing that could distract me from my incessant need for you. Seeing your reactions and having your attention kept me in check. I’m very different from you and I’m aware it could cause a problem. I wasn’t sure if you could ever fully want me because of that.” He reaches to rub around the base of his ears. “But every day that I looked over I wanted to hold you, to claim you, to take you right here on this very spot. So often I dreamed of jumping the fence and coming for you instead of...”

You smile down at him, noting his near admission. “Instead of?”

“Instead of watching from a distance.” He smirks, catching and narrowly fixing his statement. Pleading guilty only to his longing for you.

“Then do it.” You demand of him.

He groans from his position beneath you. “Don’t tease me like that.”

“I’m not. You weren’t the only one peeking through the fence Jungkook.” Reaching up to your collar you tug off your shirt. He follows your lead with his own to reveal his sculpted chest he’s taunted you with so many times. “I don’t care if we’re different from each other. I don’t care if it causes a problem.” You shift back on his body traveling from your seat near his stomach down to his hips, his clothed dick firm and pressing against you. A moan escapes his lips, confirming that you’ve made your point. “There’s no one else nearby, so if you want me so much that you’re willing to fuck me out here, in the rain and mud-”

His hands come to grip your waist, and in one swift motion, he lifts you off, maneuvering out from underneath, to fall into place behind you. From there he pushes you down to your hands and knees, his body bent over yours. “You have no idea how much I want to.” He whispers with a kiss to your bare shoulder damp from the rain that continues to pour.

He takes off your bra before his face moves down your back, nose trailing against your skin and pausing at your shorts. Unfastening the button he pulls them down, freeing you of your underwear too before they are both cast aside. “I want to smell you, and taste you.” Jungkook takes in a deep breath, wrapping an arm around your legs, and barring your thighs. He buries his face between your legs, his tongue reaching out to deliver a long lick to your folds pausing after every lap.

Your palms dig into the ground, the cool mud coming to the surface to meet them. You buck against his tongue but the forearm holding you remains firm, sending your squirming downward to bury your elbows in the soggy grass too.

Jungkook chuckles as you inadvertently give him a better angle. From behind you can hear the zipper of his own shorts. Rubbing the head of his cock against your damp folds, he covers it with the slick of your slit, and with a long groan he eases it inside. He’s slow at first, letting you savor the girth and warmth of him. So you start to edge back and forward on his cock. Taking the time to enjoy every inch, along with the sounds that leave him. But when he returns to take control, the first thrust is so powerful, his thighs hit your ass with a loud clap, and every jolt of his hips after, drives you further down each time.

A stuttering groan escapes him as he fills you. Thinking he’s finished you lean forwards and until his cock pulls out, but in response he grabs your waist. Turning you over, back to the ground on top of the discarded clothes and facing him.

He lowers himself pressing his chest against yours. His fingers reach to grab your chin and take a kiss. His cock, despite having come only moments before, is hard once more and poised to enter once again.

“How are you-” You manage to squeeze a few words in the gaps between his kisses as he draws breath. “Ready for more-” Another pass of his tongue. “Already?”

“You have my hybrid traits to thank for that.” He moves to nibble on the side of your throat. “I have more to give you, if you want it.”

You nod unable to emit any noise other than a gasp as his mouth finds a sensitive spot on your neck. His dick forges in again, your slick and his cum dripping out of you as he fills you with himself instead.

You’ve avoided touching him with your own hands as they are patched with mud, but as his thrusts grow more powerful than even before, you’re forced to grab on his arms and chest. Leaving behind streaks of dirt which display the path of your grip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact looks rather encouraged by your touch, and the marks you leave him.

“What a dirty woman you are, and getting me all messy too.” He scoffs while admiring your handiwork. “Can I return the favour?”

“Help me come first and you can do whatever the fuck you want.” You gasp on the brink of your climax.

His ears perk up and a grin streaks across his face. “Close are you?” He grabs your calf and wraps your leg around his back, the other follows suit and his hand comes to rest on your lower back pushing you up and into him effectively grinding your mount against him.

You gasp and flinch with the sudden pressure, but he holds you firm as your back arches to meet him.

His hips beat on at a rapid pace, a small whimper escapes him as you reach the peak, tipping you over the edge. The chilling rain can in no way can douse the searing heat that spreads through you. You're still gasping when his jaw clamps down hard, his teeth poised upon your skin. The first pulse of his cock comes inside, but on the second he pulls out to splatter your chest and stomach with the rest. His hand comes to clutch his shaft, spilling more out and on to you with each stroke.

After every remaining drop has been cast on you he smiles, dragging his fingers across the rain drenched mess of mud and cum on your skin. “Never thought I’d ever see you so thoroughly soiled.”

You giggle at his remarks through your deep breaths. “And now that you do, what do you think?”

“I think it suits you, the dirt, the rain, and me...” He lowers himself down onto you, with his head now resting upon your shoulder. “It’s too bad though. Now I just want more, but we’re both far too filthy to carry on like this.”

You turn to whisper at the base of his ear. “Who says we can’t continue in the shower...”

...

You wake early the next morning with the sun spilling into the room, lighting up your bed, and the hybrid sleeping next to you. His ears and nose twitching as he continues to rest. Slipping out from the covers, and into a set of clean gardening clothes, you exit the room with as little sound as possible.

On the tile floor of your hall, muddy footprints trail from your backdoor to your bathroom. A smile pulls at your lips as you recall the events which brought them there. Jungkook had been so excited to keep going he picked you up and rushed you inside.

The feeling from the warm water and hands in contrast to the cool rain was enough to bring back the waves of pleasure. He was so thorough in washing you down, you might have to ask him to join you for another this morning and repay the favour.

Outside in the garden you find all your harvest from the day before present and untouched. You’re pleased by this new development, but it’s not the fact that your crops are intact which makes you happy, it’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook didn’t feel the need to take them.

A few minutes later the hybrid in question comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist pulling with him a blanket he took from the bed to cover the both of you. “Morning.” He mumbles, as his nose finds the crook of your neck where he exhales with a deep and relaxed sigh.

“Morning.” You respond, enjoying the tickle of his breath before you turn around to better see him. “It seems the thief didn’t strike last night. ”

“I guess they found a new garden to plunder and devour?” Jungkook suggests, giving you a sly grin, before he opens his mouth again. It’s easy to see that he’s getting ready to confess, his face shifts to a stern expression as he looks down at the ground, the guilt weighing heavily upon his brow. Placing your index to his lips you stop him. No longer needing to hear those words of admission, you offer a new proposal instead.

“Maybe, but that was just one night. The thief might still come back. So if it’s alright with you I would like you to stay here. Until we can be sure they won’t return.”

Jungkook lets out a satisfied chuckle, pushing aside your finger and pulling you tighter into his warm embrace. “You’re right, I suppose it would be safer if I stayed.” His lips plant a kiss on the top of your head where he then rests his chin. “A temptation as enticing as this, shouldn’t be left alone and unattended.”

...

#jungkook smut #hybrid jungkook #bts hybrid au #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts the garden thief #bts smut #jungkook x reader

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charnelhouse · 4 years ago

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Rating: Explicit, 18+ Pairing: Will Ironhead Miller x F!Reader Words Count: 2.1K Summary: Will and you have a secret “thing”. Warnings: A lil angst. Smut. Oral. PTSD. Bathroom sex. Floor sex. A/N: IDK what i’m doing but I just like his character

They don’t know. Santi. Frankie. Benny.

They don’t know and they won’t know because you tell it to him plain.

“If they find out, it’s gonna be a whole thing, Miller.”

“I doubt it.”

He’s rucking your skirt up over your hips, his thumb nudging your panties to the side. He slides a knuckle through the slick seam of your cunt, nearly groaning at how wet you are.

“You’ve been like this the whole party?” he grits as you dip your tongue into his mouth, kissing him rough while you cling to his shoulders. His muscles are bunched - fucking tense after having to sit and wait for you all afternoon. His stomach feels twisted - his wiring hums with a thousand sighs of want.

“Yeah,” you husk. He’s got you on the sink, your back pinned to the mirror while he slots his hips between your spread thighs. He grinds the thick bulge of his denim-covered cock into your sex as you moan something high-pitched and nearly pained against his parted lips. He feels like his head is on backwards - his mind on a reverse carousel that is a cycling band of different colors and raucous musical notes and strange animals and there is no end - no stop in sight - and Jesus fuck he wants you in a way that hurts.

“Poor thing,” he teases. The others are outside. Nearly thirty beers between them. Locked in a poker game and sweating under the pulse of August sun.

You had made up something about checking your computer for work. He said he was going to start on the dishes. They had fifteen minutes if they were lucky.

They’d been waiting, eyes locked tight to the other as they kept their distance. He’d practically broken the arm off his pool chair, watching you laugh into Frankie’s ear. Santi with his hand clasped around the nape of your neck. The constant circling around and around until one of them gave in and texted the other: Now. I need you.

The others would lose it if they knew. At least, Will thinks they would.

You were untouchable. You were one of them. A combat nurse who had seen them at their worst - had shared in the many traumas that had whittled each of them down to matchsticks. You were like their younger sister and Will had been absolutely fine with that until he hadn’t.

Until he had realized that he liked you in a way that went far beyond mutual admiration. He wanted to fuck you. He wanted to pound your ass into the mattress. Once he started, he could not stop. He could not get the taste of you off of his tongue. He showered, scrubbing your sweat from his skin and it wasn’t enough. He’d find himself lost - alone on his bed in his shitty bedroom and he’d grab his phone and text you: That was amazing. You’re so fucking hot.

Nothing romantic or sensitive because he really didn’t know how you’d respond. He didn’t know how serious you were about him. He simply wanted to stay connected to you - keep you tethered so you’d understand that he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You you you with your sun dresses and your work ethic and the way your eyes went half-mast when he snuck a finger inside you and curled it just right.

He can’t even remember how the first time happened. He knows the actions - the words that had been shared - the sensation of you gripping his face as he kissed you with a coaxing tongue. It’s just - well it’s just that he can’t quite believe that it had happened and that it was still happening.

They’d all been drunk at Ray’s bar down on 4th street. He recalls with stark clarity the neon shimmer of the decorative signs. The street lights. The coeds. A number of them who wouldn't leave their group alone while you stewed in the corner with the biggest pout on your face.

They weren’t going to actually hook up with any of those girls (alright, maybe Benny). They were too young, too loud.

There was absolutely no contest.

But it became quite apparent that you were pissed and a little drunk. Your cheek was shoved into your palm as your gaze raked over one of the girls who kept grabbing Will’s arm and asking him about the meaning of his tattoos. It was kind of endearing - the way your brow furrowed with each press of the girl’s fingertips to his elbow, each tug of his t-shirt.

Finally, you’d gotten up and stormed out of the bar when the girl jumped into his lap. Will had felt something clench in his gut, an uncomfortable anxiety ruffling his feathers. The thought of you upset and at him had pinched a nerve and would not let go.

He had gone after you.

He hadn’t meant for anything to happen. It had just been instinctual. Make sure she gets home okay. Make sure she isn’t mad.

He’d caught up with you about a block away. He’d know your gait anywhere, the bounce of your step, the swing of your hips - especially when you were angry and a brush tipsy.

He called your name and you shot him a withering look over your shoulder. It had gotten him uncomfortably hot.

“Stop,” he pleaded. “C’mon, you’re being ridiculous.”

You whirled around and poked him roughly in the chest. “Don’t come after me, Miller! Go back and - and - go home with one of those - those chicks.”

It sounded absolutely weak. Your voice husky and thick and for a second he thought you were about to cry.

It’s the alcohol.

“Why would I do that,” he reasoned. “When I have you right here?”

You blinked at him. “You don’t mean that.”

No.

The problem was that he had very much meant it. It had been the confession he had long held close, buried deep, only lifting it out to nurse when he was alone in his room with his cock in his hand.

It - it had just burst out of him without a second thought. The liquor loosening his tongue - the warm buzz fueling his courage.

You looked alarmingly gorgeous underneath the flickering streetlights. Your lips swollen from several margarita salt-rims, your eyes bright and face flushed with damp sweat from Florida summer.

He stepped toward you and you allowed it. Your gaze was still branded on his face. Suspicious. He slowly reached his arm out, palming your cheek.

“Will,” you breathed, lashes fluttering. “Don’t do anything you don’t mean.”

He frowned. “Never - I always mean what I do - or do what I mean - or wait - that came out wrong - “

The whole situation tripping him up and making him clumsy and then he completely forgot what he had even intended to say because a smile had broken out across your face and it had blinded him.

“Fuck - you’re pretty,” he mumbled as he dragged you up to his mouth - insistent tongue slipping against your own and oh your lips were perfect - pliant and soft.

He could remember the rest of it - flashes of skin and sensation. They had stumbled back to your apartment and once inside you had both fallen to the floor with frantic kisses and fumbling hands and him tearing your dress nearly in half.

He had fucked you right there, shoving your knees back against your chest as he thrust into you. The sight of his length - shiny and drenched - disappearing inside your stretched pussy. The pace had been fast and hard - almost ruthless. Too much.

He had finished shamelessly quick - the silken, hot clutch of your sex around his cock better than anything he had ever felt before. That combined with the simple fact that he was fucking you - a girl he’d dreamed about, lusted after, wanted in a way that unsettled him. He’d made his lack of stamina up to you. He’d slipped down the smooth planes of your body, hitching your thighs over his shoulders so he could eat you out.

Your nails scraping through his hair, the impatient roll of your hips against his face as you cried out his name on a loop. It had been so fucking sexy - your pussy searingly tight and fluttering on his fingers - his tongue - the salt-tinged musk of your folds.

In the morning there hadn’t really been questions. Will had fiddled with your expensive coffee machine for twenty minutes until he’d given up.

You can defuse a bomb, but you can’t figure out a Nespresso, Miller?

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so fucking smart.”

He’d grabbed your ankle, tugging you down your rumpled bed so he could part your legs and shut you up. The blankets had been torn off, the sheets bunched beneath the pillowcases. He’d fucked you all night - knees planted into your mattress as he clung to your headboard and slammed into you.

It had been unforgiving. It had been so good.

He dropped to the edge of the bed, admiring your naked body, your bare legs, the curve of your foot that you nudged into his shoulder. He placed his hands on your inner thighs - pressing and spreading - splaying you glossy and flushed and wide for him.

“You’re such a brat sometimes.”

“You like it.”

“A little.”

“A lot.”

“Shut up and let me taste you, sweetheart.”

The day had slipped away from them.Their bodies threaded together, damp skin and hot, open-mouthed kisses. The AC humming beneath your muffled cries and his sharp groans as they sent the other over the edge every hour.

It had been sweet.

Lately, Will had felt done with this boring fucking town; its red-brick and its clock tower and its strip-malls and drive-throughs and churches. But - in your bed - it was all so fucking new. For the first time in months - maybe even years - something like excitement bubbled in his chest. Something close to joy.

Their phones had gone off all day as the others tried to figure out where they were.

We can’t tell them.

Why not?

I just - I know they’ll tease us. We’ll never hear the end of it.

So this is a one time thing?

No. No, Will! I - I just want this to be ours for a bit.

So this is Will now - presently - fucking the girl of his dreams on the white-tiled counter of Santi’s bathroom. You grab fistfuls of his ass, pushing him deeper, your cunt spasming around him as he hits that spot again and again.

“You gonna cum, baby?” he growls, tugging your ear lobe between his teeth.

“Yeah,” you hiss as he gets a particularly good pump in, knocking you up against the mirror. “You gonna - fuck - you gonna join me, Miller?”

He fists his hands into your hair, forcing your chin up so he can slant his mouth overs yours. You grip his jaw - your tongue urgent. A frantic kiss - bruised in genuine desperation. He cannot get enough of this - enough of you. It’s all so fucking wet and Will knows that the lower half of your face is going to be a mess: lips swollen, jaw and nose rubbed raw from his beard.

He’s not sure how they’ll explain that one.

He’s not sure if you care anymore. He’s not sure what the fuck they’re even doing.

He’s been on some of the most dangerous missions for his country - the most risky, the come-home-successful or come-home-in-a-body-bag ones. He’s seen things and done things where morality and ethics were slapped in fine, grey paint. He went to war as a kid and came back with his head rocked and it’s not like the migraines or the nightmares ever went away. He could hold them off - he could try and pay his penance through speaking to others and offering advice. Public therapy sessions with men and women that did what he did, but still he doesn’t know if he’s meant for the life he wants.

Picket-fences and rib-roast dinners and chunky toddlers. Christmases where he’d build his kids doll houses or lego castles or bicycles. The very thought of filling you up and getting you round and watching your breasts spill out of the cups of your bra and fuck that does it for him as his pace grows sloppy and his hips jam up against your pelvis as he pulls your face against his chest and simply holds you there.

“Fuck, Miller,” you nearly sob as you dig your nails int the flesh of his waist.

He holds you tighter, his hand at the crown of your head - nearly dwarfing it as he presses you into him.

Because at the end of the day, Will doesn’t know if he deserves a good life. He’d screwed his twenties: getting into nonstop bar brawls, running headlong into any tour they offered him, cheating and ruining every romantic relationship he’d had. He was older now - not necessarily wiser, but there was enough therapy under his belt to at least guide his sorry ass out of the PTSD that consistently threatened to shove him off a cliff.

And then there was you - who had seen what he had done in living color and remained at his side. The girl who used dark humor to try and laugh off the fact that he’d gotten into a fist fight at the local Aldi over a bag of oranges. The person who had come over after his girlfriend dumped him and made him play Monopoly for six hours until they were too drunk to read the board. The person he had called first when he had been overcome by a panic attack and had to be nearly hospitalized because he couldn’t see straight.

He feels you run your hand up the planes of his back, petting at his spine and the sensitive skin above his ass. He’s completely out of breath. His jeans are around his ankles. Everything is wet as he feels his cock soften inside you. If he pulls out right now, his spend would spill - paint your thighs and Santi’s sink and it would no doubt get him hard again.

You sit back so you can peer up at him. You cradle his face, brushing your thumb over the bump of his cheek, stroking your knuckles across the scrape of his beard.

“You want to come home with me tonight, Will?”

Will. Will. Will. His name is soft and tentative on your tongue.

He doesn’t know if he deserves what you give him, but he thinks he can at least accept what’s offered.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Yeah I want that.”

#will miller x reader #will miller x female reader #will miller x you #will ironhead miller #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier #charlie hunnam characters #charlie hunnam #william ironhead miller x reader #william ironhead miller x you #william ironhead miller x female reader

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sailorhyunjinz · 4 years ago

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~𝘓𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; hyunjin x fem!reader, SMUT!! childhood!bestfriends, in vino veritas, sex under influence, summer!au, uni!au, drunken confession, (not really) mutual pining, explicit language, piv, unprotected sex (once again, a bad example! don’t forget the raincap in the storm), riding, kinda vanilla sex, uuuh,,, corruption kink if you squint, orgasm (m/f), cum, muffled moaning? (that is not the correct term but lets go with that)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 2.8 k

𝘙𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 ; ye ye thank u anon!! <3

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; lmao i know he has dark hair in the picture but just imagine that he’s blonde aight also damnit wtf happened to that edge of the header picture aaah,,, im no editor u guys- also once again, the fucking title has nothing to do with the story, i just felt like it

holy shit now i understand why i dont write vanilla sex or like slow stuff,,, because it pains me with cringe- or maybe i get flustered,,,

29. “Maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes” ; The 1975 - If you’re too shy (Let me know)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

Hwang Hyunjin.

You liked him in every type of way. You even liked the way his name rolled of your tongue like some kind of sweet mantra. You would have confessed if only he wasn’t your childhood best friend.

“y/n! ready to parteeey?” he yelled across the crosswalk, holding up a slightly dirty tan canvas bag, the bottles of cold liquor clinking against each other as he moved, the green man lighting up on the red stoplight. His high platform sneakers moved swiftly against the white striped concrete, making his way over to you and stretching out his arms, catching you in an embrace when he finally crossed the road.

“i see you brought drinks even if it’s only a casual sleepover” you chuckled, patting him on the back as you pulled away, walking towards the direction of your house in the scorching summer evening.

“of course, who said you couldn’t have a party with two people?” he answered back, slightly embarrassed by the way the bottles hit each other, causing other pedistrians to turn their heads. You shrugged your shoulders, looking at him as you walked closeby his side, admiring his profile and the way his blonde long locks were pushed behinds his ears, exposing his cute studded earrings. He turned his head, gazing at you to which you quickly diverted your eyes towards the ground below your feet, hearing Hyunjin giggle from your antics.

“how’s your mom? she doing good?” he asked after walking a couple of meters, holding the bag in one hand and his phone in the other one.

“yeah! but why do you ask? you literally messaged her yesterday” you smiled to which Hyunjin hummed, pouting and shrugging.

“because she’s like my best friend,,, duh?” he chuckled, poking you playfully at the side of your tummy causing you to flinch away, you being rather ticklish.

“hey! you can’t just make my mom your bestie, tsk,, stealing away my mom like that” you said, laughing in between words and noticing that the two of you were soon standing infront of your house door, the kitchen and living room window radiating warm yellow light and a silhouette moving behind the dark curtains. You retreived the keys that were in the pockets of your shorts, something you threw on quickly to go meet Hyunjin even though he knew the way to your house. It was just an excuse to be with him a bit longer.

You put the keys in the lock, jumbling around as Hyunjin looked at you with glossy dark brown eyes, holding the bag with two hands in front of his knees. The door opened and the light shined on you, illuminating the front yard that was getting dark as the sun was setting. The two of you stepped in, removing your shoes and hearing Hyunjin place the bag down on the cold tile flooring moments before your mother walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn.

“Oh hello Hyunjin! How’s school?” She asked, placing 3 pieces of popcorn in her mouth and chewing, her jaw moving from side to side.

“Uni is going great, stressful but y/n helps me,,, kinda” he chuckled, scratching the back of his head and looking down at the ground, you playfully hitting him on his upper arm. Your mom smiled at the two of you.

“Don’t stay up too late!” she yelled as she made her way to the living room where your dad was lounging on the sofa with a cold beer in his hands, watching a game of football.

“We won’t mom!” you yelled back, grabbing Hyunjin’s bag and waving your hand, signaling for him to follow you to your bedroom. He tiptoed carefully, not wanting to knock something down even though he’s slept over at yours well over a thousand times since your early childhood but still, it was in Hyunjin’s nature to be gentle and timid at first glance, another reason as to why you liked him so much.

Your bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary. White walls filled with various trinkets, family photos decorating them. Your bed was big enough to fit two but you had a sleeping bag in the corner of the room from just how often Hyunjin would crash at your place. There was not much more besides a cluttered desk, your single bed and a carpet along with a white drawer and a mirror. You plopped down on the bed, feeling the soft material against your exposed calfs. Hyunjin knew what to do, grabbing and unfolding the sleeping bag before emptying the contents of his beige bag, multiple bottles of beer and cider along with a small bottle of pure vodka.

“Why the fuck did you bring vodka? You know my parents are gonna kill me if they find this in my room” you sneered, rolling your eyes at the boy that was sitting on the bedroom floor, mischievously looking up at you.

“y/n you’re in uni, what are they gonna do? ground you?” you shook your head.

“Yeah? or kick me out of the house” you persisted, tilting your head as Hyunjin looked around the room in search for a bottle opener.

“Says the girl that puked behind a slide” he laughed to which you kicked him, causing him to fall over and you getting the final laugh.

“I’m gonna go grab some snacks and a bottle opener since you’re too weak to open them” you tsked, heading towards the door and turning the doorknob.

“ppft,,, too weak” you heard Hyunjin complain as you exited the room, small steps making their way to the kitchen. You flipped the light switch, the grey lamp hanging from the ceiling, you witnessing the messy dishes from dinner earlier. You opened the dark brown cabinet where you usually stored your snacks, grabbing two packets of crisps and rummaging through the smaller cabinet that was home for the multitude of kitchen supplies your dad and mom like to collect. You found one, decorated with some picture of a sea, probably from one of dads business trips you thought, closing the cabinets and turning off the light, stepping back to your bedroom.

“Here” you said, throwing the metal opener towards the blonde boy that was mindlessly scrolling on his phone, lying sprawled out on the carpet. Hyunjin dramatically clutched his stomach, acting as if he’s been hit with a boulder to which you scoffed, sitting down next to him on the floor and opening the first bag of crisps and being once again disappointed by the air to chip ratio.

Hyunjin opened two bottles of beer, handing one over to you which you happily received, putting the slightly cold edge against your hot lips and drinking the bitter liquid, feeling it burn a bit in your throat but soothe it in this summers heat. Your face contorted into disgust, looking on the rather dodgy blue lable that was peeling a bit on the edges. You looked over to Hyunjin that was making a similar expression to yours, his nose sqrunching in that cute manner it always did.

“aren’t we both like,,, too easily influenced?” he said quietly as you stood up, retrieving your computer to put on a movie. You nodded, giggling when you sat back down and placed the computer on the floor, typing something on your computer and pointing towards the screen.

“this one or,,,, this one?” you said to which Hyunjin pointed at the latter, knowing he would pick the animated movie, him being childish as he is.

An hour passed and at this point the two of you were tipsy, multiple bottles making their presence known by standing beside you, all emptied to the last drop. The alcohol was flushing Hyunjin’s cheeks, tinging them with a light red along with the tips of his ears, your hearts thumping from how dangerously close his hand was to yours. You were starting to get tired, probably drowsy from the alcohol you thought as you layed down to which Hyunjin reacted, patting his lap.

“Put your head here, why put it on the floor?” he chuckled, his words slurring slightly. You froze, comtemplating on whether or not you should do it or if your heart could even manage being in contact with him. You cleared your throat, trying to get back to your senses. He was your childhood best friend for fuck sake. Shyly you put your head on his thigh, still watching the movie and trying to focus on what was happening on the screen but being completely lost in your own lewd thoughts, wondering how his soft lips would feel brushing up against yours, ctaching you in a hasty kiss. You sighed as the end credits rolled, seeing Hyunjin’s angular face reflecting on the screen and his gaze catching yours on the reflective monitor. Both of you burst out in laughter, the substances intoxicaing you into a laughing fit. You sat up again, pushing him by the shoulder and causing him to fall over with his arms stretched out to the sides, you falling closely to him and using his forearm as a headrest.

“y/n, have you ever liked me?”

You gulped. Was it that apparent? You shook your head, mumbling a quiet “no” to which Hyunjin giggled, his chest heaving up and down. He messed with his blonde hair, pushing it back and furrowing his eyesbrows before relaxing his facial features, closing his eyes softly.

“i like you but maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes”

You choked on your own spit, sitting up and patting yourself on the chest. It was unlike Hyunjin to speak this bluntly, especially about such suggesstive topics. He laughed at your reaction, acting as if he hadn’t just made you choke with only his words. After the initial shock set in you decided to play smart, if he was being oblivious so would you. You looked back at the blonde boy that still had his eyes closed, smirking and with a tone interlaced with pure erotic connotations you said;

“yeah? and if I did take off my clothes, what would you do?” you giggled back at him, feeling a warm flash of heat zap through your body and ultimately landing in your dripping core. Hyunjin’s eyes sprung open, the corners of his mouth curling upwards into a exuberant smirk. A million thoughts ran through Hyunjin’s mind. Should he continue the little game he had started or end it all now in order to save your friendship? But maybe ruining your friendship was exactly what he needed or more like what you needed.

The tall boy sat up, pulling you by your wrist and quickly pursing his cherry red lips, clashing them against the surface of your gently chapped pout. You thought you melted right then and there, taking in the scent of the boy you never invisioned yourself kissing but here you were, your lips pressed up against his. He grabbed your hand, encasing yours in his and feeling the warmth radiating from your nervous state. With a slight tilt of the head, Hyunjin could reach deeper inside your mouth, tracing his tongue over yours and pursing his lips causing a smooching sound to escape. Your felt his hot breath stroking your heated cheek, sending shivers down your spine.

“a-are you ok, y/n? I’m s-sorry!” he said, pulling away and hiccuping after finishing his sentence. You shook your head, giggling which caught Hyunjin by surprise. You were ecstatic.

“please kiss me Hyunjin, i’ve been wanting you so bad” you mumbled, Hyunjin’s jaw clenching in confusion.

“me? i want you!” he said, laughing at your seriousness causing you to crack a smile, pushing him down on the floor and slamming the computer shut, the background track of the movie disappering. Now only the sound of the loud TV downstairs was heard along with your lips pecking Hyunjin’s. You hovered above the boy, your hands on either side of him. You felt your wet cunt aching for him, you wanted him inside of you and it seemed like you weren’t the only excited one, Hyunjin’s bulge growing bigger with every caress of his body. Your hands snaked down to the zipper of his ripped jeans, with a steady hand unzipping and unbuttoning, wanting to free him from his clothed prison that was keeping you from him.

“Eager or something?” Hyunjin tsked, trailing kisses along your jawline and neck. You didn’t answer his stupid question. Of course you were eager, this was what you had dreamed of for years. This was what played out in every single wet dream you ever had. This was what occupied your mind when nothing else mattered. It was him. Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin bucked his hips upwards, granting you the honor to pull down his pants and boxers in a brisk motion which you happily took. His cock sprung free, leaking with precum embarrassingly enough causing you to snicker. Could the sight of his best friend make him this horny? You quickly moved aside from Hyunjin’s figure in order to free yourself from your shorts and white lace panties. The blonde boy was in a dilemma. He liked you,,, a lot, but you were his best friend. Was it worth risking a friendship for sex and maybe even something else?

Your answer was yes. Yes if it was Hyunjin.

You straddled Hyunjin’s thigh, balancing on your knees and placing your hands firmly on his hard abdomen, positioning your hungry hole above his dick, the slit being decorated with a shining pearl of precum. Hyunjin’s eyes were closed in anticipation, his hands trying to grab onto the carpet on the floor, clawing at the material.

“you good? ready?” you asked in worry, thinking maybe he was uncomfortable.

Hyunjin shook his head in agreement. He was nervous. If he opened his eyes he could cum by just the lewd sight of your pussy about to swallow his dick whole. He was adorable being this shy, always acting innocent but not really living up to that standard, at least not in this moment. You slowly sink down on his erect cock, Hyunjin letting out a hiss at the same time you gasped, slapping a hand over your mouth in order to not be too loud. The boy was stretching you out to the brink of completion, it was impossible to bottom out from the sheer size of his throbbing cock. Hyunjin turned his head side to side, his cheek coming in contact with the cold floor. He looked in pain, his forehead furrowing but he reassured you that it felt good, maybe even too good. Your gently bounced up and down his cock, with each thrust earning another groan from the panting boy. Seeing him lost in pleasure made your core burn with arousal, needing to chase your impending orgasm. The boy slowly opened his eyes, peeking at you rocking backwards and forwards on his cock, biting your lip and tracing your hands along his abdomen underneath his shirt.

“d-does it feel good?” he asked in a dazed voice, striking a half smile as he moved his hands to your waist, simply resting them there. You nodded, lulling your head backwards, your tits bouncing underneath the fabric of your oversized t-shirt, hardened nipples poking through. Hyunjin drooled at the sight and the sensations. He had longed for this just as much as you had. Hyunjin’s hands trailed up your shirt, wrapping his hands around your boobs and harshly kneading them, the pads of his thumb gliding over your nipples. You shuddered, clenching around his cock, Hyunjin’s eyes shut tightly and his toes curling from the sensation of balancing on a pinnacle, tumbling into his orgasm. He couldn’t control his words, whispering your name out like a mantra along with the words “i love you”. Those were words you didn’t hear him say often.

The feeling of his hot cum oozing between your velvety walls got you holding onto Hyunjin’s shirt for life, his hand gently placed over your parted lips that continusly spilled with whimpers and pleas. You looked at Hyunjin with lost eyes, your pace slowling down as you rode out your orgasm, thighs shaking involuntarily, giving up beneath you. Hyunjin lifted slightly by your hips, you pulling off him and with a thud rolled over on your back, laying next to him on the floor. The room filled with heavy breathing, sweaty bodies trying to find composure after the rather interesting orgasm. All your thoughts were in once big mush, hindering you from forming a sentence.

“What now?” Hyunjin said in a sleepy manner, rolling over to his side and hugging you awkwardly. You didn’t know. All you knew that you wanted him. You were hoping he would become yours. More than once.

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

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Pyroclastic (Mike Zacharias x Reader)

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

Not dead; just waking up.

Rating: E (explicit)

Word Count: ~19.5K

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

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

Enjoy~

GLOSSARY

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

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

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

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

*definitions taken from USGS website

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why’d you make him sound Russian?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. The boy scout’s here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mike, what’s up?” You greet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?”

Moblit is quiet for a beat too long.

“Mobs, what is it?”

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

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

“And, in the others?”

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

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

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

And then, it stops.

“Why did it…”

“Just watch,” Moblit shushes you.

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

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

“Was that…”

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

"Supereruption."

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see anything,” you say.

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

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

“Then why aren’t they here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not really. Survive, I guess."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which one was that?” Zachary asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Small,” Nile scoffs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lunchtime soon, right?”

“Yeah, in a bit—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trail Closed

Road Closed

Danger: Keep Out

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

Fourteen casualties. Twenty-nine injured.

That’s what it took.

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

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

Not dead; just waking up.

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

“Exhausted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Explosions. Falling rocks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t imagine anything does.

1 Y E A R B E F O R E

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Embarrassing, is what it is."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop."

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

"You're thinking things, though."

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

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

"Hange!"

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

"How dare you. I am nothing like—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not the way you are here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So are you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes," Erwin answers first.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Levi..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We—”

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

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

Quite possibly.

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

But, that is not the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Two for Washington D.C.”

“And, two for Bergen, Norway.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

And, the owners have definitely prepared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tch."

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

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

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

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

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

"How long did you work together?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey,” you start.

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

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

“But, you miss the park,” he says.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“What?”

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

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

“Guess they don’t know us very well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe so…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, fu—”

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

“Mike—Mike—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mike’s brow creases. “You’re sure?”

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

“Holy…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where do you want me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except maybe a supereruption, of course.

E - D A Y

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 M O N T H A F T E R

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Need something, baby?”

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

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snort and shake your head. “Dummy.”

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

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

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

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

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

4 Y E A R S A F T E R

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, you have shit taste, too.”

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

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

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

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

Is what remains of Yellowstone.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

481 notes · View notes

imjusttpeachy · 5 years ago

Text

bumpy roads & broken promises. (c.h.)

EDIT: Lmaoooo I did not expect this to actually get notes, thanks guys! I already made it onto someone’s fic recs-- I feel special. Actually might end up writing more if this gets more attention. :^)

I wrote this as a vent/comfort fic for myself but figured others might like it. Corpse has been my new safety youtuber ever since the old nosleep reader--deep voice/no face gamer went to shit so... yeah.

Heavily inspired by @mmonamona ‘s fic “Petty Fights and Lonely Nights” just more angst.

playlist

feng suave - sink into the floor

current joys - a different age

feng suave - venus flytrap

rei ami - do it right

summary: Corpse gets frustrated with work and snaps at the reader when she tries to ask what’s wrong, triggering a bad memory from a past relationship.

word count: 2, 932

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, shouting, panic attacks, reference to past relationship trauma (no retelling, nothing detailed)

(angst, hurt/comfort, crying! lots of it)

>>>

“God would you just fuck off already?!”

Frozen. Your body tensed up as the deep growl echoed through the cramped dark room.

You had been staying at your boyfriend’s apartment for about a week while you were on break from college. Flying out from the UK to California so you could spend as much time as you could with him before ultimately having to return to 5am facetimes while drowning in papers and essays.

Even before you’d booked the tickets, Corpse was already apologizing for everything under the sun. The size of his apartment and its cleanliness, the fact that he couldn’t do much more than order take out for you, his irregular sleeping patterns.. the list could go on and on. And while you assured him every time that you didn’t care, that you were coming to see him— not his apartment, not home cooked meals, and definitely not to scrutinize him for things he couldn’t control due to his mental health. But he wouldn’t buy it.

Not one bit.

He’d offer you a weary half-smile, pulling you into his chest or ruffling your hair before placing a soft kiss on your temple and changing the subject. You didn’t press any further knowing how often he was at war with his own mind and couldn’t help but think the worse of every situation.

As the days carried on, you’d spent most of your time tangled up in each other. Whether it be a movie, or playing some co-op games, or even just laying in his bed with him, you could barely stand to spend any time apart. But, of course, you were adults with responsibilities that would tear you from one another eventually. While you did miss his presence every second he wasn’t around, you couldn’t help but try to make his life even better for when he got back and for when you’d eventually have to leave him once again. Now, a week into your stay, his apartment was a good amount tidier than how it’d been when you arrived. The cupboards and fridge were stocked with groceries that would hopefully last for some time after you left, on top of the home made meals you’d make together or for him everyday. New picture frames were hung up on the wall of the two of you that you’d gifted to him when you arrived; it actually started to feel like home. Well, as much as it could without those familiar strong arms wrapped around you every second of the day.

Unfortunately, this evening was one of those times. Corpse had already been locked up in his office for a few hours now, the sounds of button mashing and frustrated exclamations making its way through the thin walls every so often bringing an amused smile to your face. He’d woken up a bit anxious already knowing he’d have to both leave you alone and put up a brave front for the stream that was planned that evening. You didn’t push him or try to talk about it, knowing that it would just make it worse; so you two had spent the day as it normally would (though he always looked and felt on edge) until he was forced to retreat back into that dreaded workspace.

You occupied yourself on your phone and laptop for a while, checking up on friends, reviewing anything you’d need for the upcoming semester, just scrolling through your socials— y’know, the works. But by the time you’d gotten bored with your scrolling, you’d notice it was a perfect time to start dinner that you’d hopefully be able to eat together with Corpse. You’d gotten to work right away, doing your best to be as quiet as you could to not disturb his work as the different aromas began to spread through the small kitchen in his apartment. Finishing up the dishes after the meal was all cooked, you dished up two servings and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch before you went to retrieve your other half.

Turning the knob of his office door slowly, you peered into the dark room; only the silhouette of the floppy mop of hair you adored so much was able to be seen in the dim light of his computer monitors. Taking a hard look at his right-most monitor you notice an editing software pulled up instead of the usual live chat he had on while streaming, so without any worry of interrupting you opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a cozy room for sure, and it always seemed to smell just like him— which of course is a given but with how much time he spent in this room, it was even more so present. Walking up slowly to his right side so you wouldn’t startle him with just your voice you watched his gaze flick to your form before steadying itself back in the monitor. Furrowing your brows at his strange behaviour but not letting it get to you, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I made dinner!” You smiled down at him, taking a few steps back toward the door so he would be able to get out of his gaming chair without you in his space. However, the hunched form of your focused boyfriend didn’t move an inch. Your heart sunk a little at his attitude but decided to just try again.

“Corpse, baby, dinners ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” The short statement left his mouth in a low grumble, if you hadn’t spent all this time with him studying his voice and begging him to speak more to you, you probably wouldn’t have been able make it out at all. You huffed out a sigh, this was new for him, you really hadn’t seen him as anything other than the cuddly baby you’d grown to know and love. But, you thought to yourself, love would come with days like this and it was bound to happen eventually. Trying your best to not get frustrated or angry with his snappy attitude, you kept your voice light and cheery as you tried again to coax him out to eat.

“Corpse you’ve barely eaten today I-“

“I said I’m not hungry.” Startling at the angry tone you’d never heard from him before, you could feel yourself start to get choked up. Pulling your hands up to hug your arms, trying to sooth yourself, you could feel yourself starting to slowly freeze up. Goosebumps ran over your skin, a chill snaking it’s way up your spine as you gulped, trying your best to muster up the bravery to speak again. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, he knew how the tone affected you— he was usually even the one to comfort you after an episode triggering something like this. As your mouth began to run dry, you took a deep breath deciding that he would definitely come to his senses in the next moments, you opened your mouth to speak again.

“Is everything alri-“

“I’m FINE! I’m not a FUCKING CHILD I don’t need you constantly checking up on me! God would you just fuck off already!”

You didn’t even notice the tears dripping off your cheeks until they splashed against the bare skin of your hand. Slipping into the defense mode you knew so well, your body switched onto autopilot as you began to backpedal out of the room, almost tripping a few times as you sputtered out a choked “okay, I’m sorry,” before closing his door once again and stumbling messily down the hallway to his room. Your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute yet was completely blank at the same time, and before you knew it you were tucked away inside the dark closet in his room.

This was the routine, this is where you’d be safe.

Trying to slow your erratic breathing you hugged your knees even closer to your chest, praying that in some way it would ease your shaking body. But inevitably, you felt the sobs that you’d kept trapped in your throat since you’d left break through. Your chest heaved with the breaths you took to keep your sobs as silent as possible. You thought you had trained yourself well enough for this, you’d done this a million times before— but in the back of your mind you knew that this time it was different. Shrinking into the corner of the closet, the only thing on your mind was all the broken promises he’d sworn to keep.

>>>

Corpse sighed, his body weighing him down in his chair heavily, head aching with all the work he’d been doing that evening. Pulling his attention back, he stretched his arms as his sore eyes glanced over at the clock in the corner of his screen. 11:34pm. Fuck. That much time had passed already? Raking a hand through his hair he yawned sleepily, he knew he should probably spend more time working before calling it a night but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you-

Shit.

Finally snapping out of the heavy trance he’d set himself in every time he sat down to edit, he thought back to the last time he had seen you— calling him for dinner where he snapped at you to leave him alone… almost 3 hours ago. The memories of the past moment flooded into his head and seconds later he was scrambling out of his chair and out into the hallway. It was dead silent, Corpse felt like his heart was practically breaking his ribs with how hard it was pounding in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gripping at the right side of his shirt he rushed into the living room, rubbing frantically at his eyes as they darted around the room quickly looking for any sign of you.

“(Y/N), baby?” He rasped out, voice caught in his throat, walking through the living room and spotting the now cold meals she’d prepared waiting uneaten on the coffee table. His heart sunk as he hurried to the kitchen only to see the rest of the meal out on the counter, not doing anything to ease his mind. He called your name again and again; rushing back into the living room his eyes darted to the front door, a tiny bit of relief pricking his system as he saw the door was still locked and latched, as well as seeing your shoes and jacket by the door. Rushing back into the hallway he peeked into the bathroom, flicking on the light switch and with no sign of you, continued down the hallway to his room.

“(Y/N), please baby.” Flicking on the light his eyes scanned the room not catching a single sight of you-- when he heard it. Slowing his breathing down as much as he could in his panicked state he focused in his hearing on the small heaves of air coming from the closet. Stomach dropping, Corpse collapsed onto his knees, legs giving way from underneath him when he realized where you were and what was happening. Crawling his way toward the closet door he stopped right outside of it, he heard your breath hitch and knew you were holding it out of practiced instinct which made him want to vomit. But it wasn’t about him right now, so with a deep breath he finally managed to whisper out.

>>>

“Princess, I’m gonna open the door okay?”

Finally releasing the breath you had been holding, your lungs heaved for air as light flooded into the dark closet. Peeking an eye out from where it was buried in your knees, you blearily made out your boyfriend’s blurry figure kneeling outside the closet. With your body feeling like it was completely out of your control, sobs once again began to rack your huddled form as you shrunk away from him as far as you could into the corner of the closet.

“I’m gonna come in and sit with you okay, I won’t touch you unless you say I can alright?” You could hear some shuffling before hearing the door creak shut again engulfing the both of you in almost complete darkness, save for the few streams of yellow light coming from the cracks of the door. Corpse stared forward in complete silence, long legs bent uncomfortably and body hunched over in the cramped space of the closet trying to give you as much space as possible but knowing that the first step was sitting with you. The man beside you sighed softly, feeling his heart splinter with every heaving sob that raked over you; he could feel his own tears prick at his eyes and a sob starting to well up in his throat but he held them back. Mustering up the courage and will he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“(Y/N) I am so, so fucking sorry,” his voice pitched just above a whisper because he knew if his voice got any deeper that it would startle you and scare you even more than how you were already feeling right now. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. It never should’ve hap-“

“Y- You br- broke your promise.” Your reply came in watery, stuttered breaths; the knot in Corpse’s throat came right back up, tears filling his waterline as much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake.

“I know. I know I did.” The man beside you managed to choke out thinking back to the day where he first lost his temper around you. You’d told him everything about your experience with your past relationships and how you were treated, what you used to cope and what he could do to avoid that in any way possible. He promised that day that he would never again raise his voice, or move too fast even when he was angry or frustrated, and made sure to note down anything that would possibly trigger you to completely avoid altogether. And he kept those promises… until today. Tilting his head to glance over at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the closet to see you staring straight ahead, tears pouring endlessly down your damp face as your body still shook with soft cries.

“I can’t lose you (Y/N)” Corpse’s voice shook as he tried to figure out the right things to say that would keep you from walking right out that door.

“I’ll do anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll be better, I swear on my life I’ll be better. Anything you need— it’s yours. I just.. I can’t lose you. Not like this.” He hated how much he sounded like he was pleading when he’s the one who fucked up. The last thing he wanted to do was manipulate you into staying with him which was exactly what your ex did when they made the same mistake time and time again; something he swore he’d never even think of doing. But here he was, and here you were glancing up at him with bloodshot eyes, hair sticking to your tear slicked face and body shaking so much you’d think it was below freezing in there.

Tearing your gaze away from his, you heaved a watery, shaky sigh trying your best to get your thoughts in order. While you had your issues, you knew he had his as well; and with as much patience and understanding he gives you with your snappy, frustrated, sad days, you needed to give back that same patience and understanding with his own. You needed to be brave here.

“Baby-“

“C-Can you just hold me? Please?” You sputtered out just above a whisper, and before you could even unwrap your arms from around yourself Corpse was pulling you into his lap; strong arms encasing you as he pushed his face into your hair. That’s when you found out he was shaking just as much as you were, chest rising and falling erratically with contained sobs as he tried to keep his brave demeanour up for you. Tucking your head under his chin he leaned back against the wall as he crushed you to his chest, the droplets hitting the top of your head giving way to the fact that he was crying too. Pulling your arms up from your side, you slowly wrapped them around his shoulder as he pushed his face against the crook of your neck, sobs finally giving way as he cried helplessly into your shoulder; further dampening the already tear-soaked cloth of the hoodie you were wearing.

“I’m sorry,” Corpse sputtered, hooking his chin over your shoulder so he could keep up with the heaving of his chest, pulling an arm up from around your waist to rest on the back of your head. As much as he wanted to run his hands all over your body and bury his fingers in your hair to feel and memorize every inch of you, he kept them still not wanting to overwhelm you more than this kind of touch already did.

“I love you, I love you so much, I love you..“ he whispered over and over into the darkness of the closet as you both began to breath slower as one. Shushing him softly, you repeated the soft words back to him before wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, ensuring him that you were going to be alright.

There would be bumps in the road but Corpse was worth it.

__________________________________

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse imagine

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junhuiste · 4 years ago

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next level (ex-wip)

pairing: wonwoo x gn reader

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, angst, slightly suggestive, cursing, friends to enemies to lovers, college au

a/n: so i said i’d publish my other ex wips and here’s another one! i planned on making this a 3 parter where y/n asks wonwoo for help on a computer game even though they were enemies but before that they were friends …does that make any sense i didn’t think so! also this is an ex wip so sorry for the asterisks everywhere! those words were the ones i was gonna replace later on lmfao!!!! also i wrote this 2 years ago when i was 17 so my apologies if its utter bullshit 😭

as wonwoo help you leveled up, you wondered if you should do the same regarding your friendship…errr…enemyship….

It’d been an hour or so of Wonwoo verbally guiding you through the various moves and strategies but once he stood up your breath suddenly hitched, for whatever reason.

Breathing seemingly became somewhat harder as you saw from the corner of your eye that wonwoo was coming to stand behind you.

“it’s gonna get harder,” he said softly, his hand finding yours, “let me help you.”

as much as you appreciated his help, you didn’t need wonwoo to baby you; you were perfectly capable of taking verbal directions without needing guidance like a rookie. “i can do it; i swear!”

though it was hard to train your eyes on both wonwoo and the computer monitor simultaneously, you managed to do it anyway. “that’s not what you said last week when i offered you my help.”

it wasn’t that you didn’t need wonwoo’s help, and it wasn’t certainly that you didn’t want it, but there was something mischievous yet somehow alluring and amusing pushing him away. it was honestly quite ***horrible ** for you to admit it, but playing cat and mouse was refreshing, though it was a game hard to keep up with.

eventually you gave in and you took deep breaths slowly and surely as wonwoo’s hand rest atop yours. it was warm, but not sweaty; relaxed, but not ***heavy***. his head was most definitely closer to yours than last time, even though you tried to focus solely on the computer monitor, he was within an ear’s whisper from you. as he guided your hand, your thoughts glided slowly away from the game entirely and onto the boy behind you. it was hard, really, to ****focus*** on the 146th level of the game when the boy you liked a while back had his shoulder barely leaning into yours, with his warmth radiating onto you so so comfortably.

it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since wonwoo had stood up behind you that his arm was now resting ***comfortably***on yours. the weight of his top half ***barely*** on yours wasn’t even what went into consideration, for the most part. it what you could feel was ***slowly*** developing in the room, moment by moment, and it was excruciatingly painful how much time it took to build up. palms clammy, fingers ready to give out, and breathing ***most definitely*** not under control, you were ready to tap out and give into your instincts.

a mosh pit of psychedelic colors reflected onto both of your faces as the round ended. with the blinds only half drawn and how bright the screen was turned up, you winced at what seemed like a light source that envied the sun glared at you. the heat from the screen wasn’t the only **warmth**** prevalent, however. you certainly hadn’t forgotten about wonwoo’s shoulder ***leaning** onto yours.

avoiding all what you’d learned in high/secondary school about what freud said about the ego calming the id, you surpassed straying from your normal actions. you’d leaped from them, and it couldn’t be fathomed by anyone, by you or soonyoung, or especially jeon wonwoo, what lead you to remove your headphones and turn around in the computer chair and then kiss jeon wonwoo. what was most surprising was that he leaned in too, so much didn’t have to be done on your part.

as he leaned in closer, you pulled wonwoo closer, as if it were instinct and you’d kissed him a thousand times before. knowing him for quite some time, it was evident that he didn’t link up with anyone, whether that be for a single night of pleasure or months of commitment, so it was ***most definitely*** more than alike to a jack-in-the-box when he knew what he was doing, and so well too. his hand **softly*** stroking your cheek with your thumb and your hand ***softly **rubbing*** his neck were a pair you never would’ve expected in light years would be together. the whole ***thing** was just unbelievable…and undoubtedly **breathtaking***, as such as you would ***hate*** to ever tell him.

flashes of blue and red glossed wonwoo’s face again as you looked up at him. “would you look at that,” a slight tinge of satisfaction laced his tone and captured his expression, as you heard a faint “level 147 unlocked” behind you.

the exact reason you were at the dorm for you had completely abandoned; your endeavor was ***seemingly** cut short by your id, too strong for it to be tamed by your superego. in fact, all goals for the game were temporarily thrusted into the iceberg of your unconscious thoughts as you looked up at wonwoo again while tugging his shirt.

it was a precarious game of truth or dare you were playing with yourself, and you were losing to nothing none other than your current desires? mere attractions? repressed feelings? whatever it was, it didn’t really matter as wonwoo leaned into you again, this time more ***forcefully/intensely**, with both of you managing to slip a tongue in here and there. french kissing wonwoo? not exactly on your bucket list but something you were glad to have checked off, be it for lust, regret, or simply nostalgia of how you once felt for the boy who’s sweater you were tugging at to bring him closer and closer and closer.

it had **certainly** been more than a few good minutes of locking lips with jeon wonwoo, and what resulted was both of you panting heavily and looking each other in the eyes a little too intensely for your liking—not necessarily a look of sin but rather of repressed longing and ***regret**. the tension swore to engulf you and spit you out but what was sprinting through your mind instead was that wonwoo kissed you back.

had the naive, freshman you known that making out with jeon wonwoo would become a reality, you would’ve jumped at the thought. was he cute or irritating? bold or brazen? or was he simply just there that you immediately caved in and let your libido think for itself? it was just like that class where he palpated you; did feelings resurface because of a craving for affection? or was wonwoo a person you genuinely wanted to pursue something with. restating what he’d said earlier, that’s not what you’d thought a few months ago.

confusion. that’s what it was at most, at best, with the clearest label. wonwoo was there, yes, but he was also ***caring** (yet competitive), offering (yet **pretentious**), and someone you’d cared for back. the way he carried himself around you was *annoying** at times, sure, but he was never malicious. wonwoo had not one bad bone in his body, and you were willing to stand by that statement. his competitiveness and bold nature that peeked in once in a while were far outweighed by his humility.

no matter how many times he corrected you as naive and curious freshmen, you’d always find yourself falling back to feelings. just like now. but what was it really? did bubbles reappear just because of his hand on yours? because of his somewhat secret smiles when he knew you enjoyed his company? maybe. but it certainly wasn’t because he was just there.

even if bubbles popped and didn’t reappear, it would be better to get feelings out, right? it would lessen the blow, for both you and wonwoo. would you come to terms with what you once harbored for jeon wonwoo? maybe not.

sitting on the bed, wonwoo perked his head up at the sight of you in the chair finally facing him. “this…this isn't a heat of a moment thing…” you began, taking as much of your precious time as possible. if you were going to confront how you felt and didn't feel simultaneously, it might as well have taken some thought at the very least, especially for wonwoo’s sake.

the raven-haired** boy hunched over with a quirked eyebrow to continue to hear you out.

“i like you—i’m sorry, i mean i used to like you. like a lot. sometimes a lot for my own good. back in freshman year.” it was a struggle to get it all out in one breath. confrontation should be something you’d never have to do again. wonwoo stayed silent, his eyes no longer **trained* on yours, but shifted **somewhat** nervously to the floor. the way your heart pulsated mercilessly at the brutal sound of silence forced the temperature to shoot up suddenly.

it didn’t work; you didn’t feel clean, worse actually, and from what it looked like at the moment, wonwoo probably did as well. he usually did well when it all boiled down to fear, feelings, and *rationality* mixing, because he pushed it away. everyone knew that, and you especially. he didn’t take any hard hits when he was third-wheeling soonyoung or roaming mindlessly at one of **NCT’s** notorious frat parties.

maybe it was time to leave. perhaps those moments of silence where you had to recollect yourself, your dignity, and your feelings were a pure waste.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i just threw that at you. i’ll leave now—and uh, thanks for the help.” sometimes feelings weren’t merely felt, other times they were ruthless and just sprung up at the worst of times. maybe that’s why your body was unforgiving and threatening to prick your eyes with water. hurriedly, you grabbed your headphones and clenched them tightly in your fist before taking a step to leave.

however, a pang of something hit. it was unidentifiable, that thing that was keeping you from taking any more steps to leave wonwoo’s room. it was agonizing at the same intensity as it was delirious, and wild and tantalizing even. whatever it was, it was piercing you, forcing you to stay in place.

once again, the air around you was impassioned and the evident thumping and thrashing and thrusting in your chest occurred as wonwoo stood up in front of you. his tall stature didn’t threaten you, only how you felt did.

“how long?” he pried with a *cold** kind of warmth before sitting down in the computer chair. his knees were almost touching yours, and he leaned back with burning curiosity.

“i…don’t know. it was a while back…and for a long time; that’s all i remember.”

the unspoken miracle had graced you as river that almost formed around your eyes earlier had finally dried up.

wonwoo had that same look on his face he always had when no answers or solutions came to mind right away. it wasn’t expressionless, far from it. you didn't know if it was inquiry or discontent, or even a thrill; the latter you’d wished but was far from being a reality.

the way wonwoo struggled to get out what he wanted took you aback. he always knew what to say, whether witty, spiteful, or helpful, and to plain sight of him also choking on his words threw you for a numbing, yet throbbing** loop.

“do you still like me?” wonwoo finally made eye contact with you, the kind of eye contact someone makes when they itch for the answer to so badly be yes.

it was at that moment that he locked you in again. but you spent the last year convincing yourself you hated him. indeed, hate was too strong of a word for it. something else. and just as you’d told him, it was absolutely not the kiss that stirred you to confess in a half-assed manner. it was just so bothersome to not know what those feelings were.

it almost choked to say it, because you *genuinely* felt it, but didn’t know what exactly to do about it.

“i-i don’t know.” you couldn’t keep up with eye contact. it was much too biting.

wonwoo captured your eyes again, but this time it wasn’t the same confused gleam they held, but rather one of clouded elation. you couldn’t exactly tell, but you knew it was just electricity in there somewhere.

“do you want to kiss me again?” was the million dollar question that was lurking. wonwoo asked it with such subtle amusement. instead of taking advantage of your feelings and vulnerability in this situation, which he would never think to do, he decided to act upon his own.

there was an evident yearning in his tone, his body language, his eyes, everything. you knew the difference between when wonwoo was simply waiting for an answer and when he was aching for it immediately. this moment called for the latter.

his inclination provoked a smile out of you. whatever it was, you didn’t know how you felt; you just knew you needed to kiss him again.

you dropped everything you had been clenching so tightly in your hands and and bent down to hold his face in your hand as you leaned in. his soft lips finally met yours again, and unlike the first couple of kisses you shared, this time it was *softer***, slower, driven by an avid and throbbing want to be as close to the other person as possible. this time it had meaning. and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away as wonwoo’s hand came behind your thigh to pull you closer to him.

he was never one to make the first move, for most things, and it surprised you when he popped the question and pulled you to him. practically falling on him in the chair, you whispered out a faint “sorry”, as he rushed to hold you. he *giggled softly** before he continued to kiss you. eventually you repositioned yourself to straddle him in the chair and oh my god you were making out with jeon wonwoo.

videogames, huh?

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagine #seventeen #wonwoo

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years ago

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VICTORY! New Free File rules ban tax-prep firms from hiding their offerings, allow IRS to compete with them (a love-letter to Propublica)

Six months ago, Propublica began beating the drum about "Free File," a bizarre, corrupt arrangement between the IRS and the country's largest tax-prep firms that ended up costing the poorest people in America millions and millions of dollars, every single year.

The scam is one of those baroque, ultimately boring and complex stories that generally dies in the public imagination despite its urgency, because "boring and urgent" is the place where the worst people can do the worst things with the least consequences.

With that warning, here's a short summary: in most wealthy countries, the tax authority fills out your tax return for you, using the information your employer already has to file every time it pays your wages. If all the numbers look right to you, you just sign the bottom of the form and send it back, without paying a tax preparer. If, on the other hand, you want to claim extra deductions, or if something complicated is going on with your finances, you can throw away that free tax return and fill in a form from scratch, either on your own or with the help of a professional.

When Americans asked to have the same courtesy extended to them -- a move that would save the vast majority of Americans millions and millions of dollars they were currently paying to the likes of HR Block and Intuit/Turbotax, every single year of their entire working lives -- the tax-prep industry mobilized to kill the proposal. The industry (which is highly concentrated and dominated by a small handful of firms whose top execs have mostly done time in all their competitors' board rooms, making them into essentially one giant company whose different divisions have different shareholders) lobbied the IRS very hard, and won a resounding victory.

That victory is called "Free File." Under Free File, each tax prep company is required to serve a slice of working Americans with free, online tax-preparation. The arrangement was hailed as a victory for public-private partnerships, harnessing the efficiency of the private sector to perform this public duty of the state. Importantly, it meant that the IRS would not expand its headcount or budget, both of which had been slashed by successive right-wing presidents and their legislative enablers. The move was cheered by anti-tax extremists like Grover Nordquist, who was delighted by the "efficiency" of you saving a bunch of pieces of paper the government already had, typing them into an online form, and hoping that a company's website came up with the same calculations that the government had already made about your tax-bill.

Part of the Free File deal banned the IRS from creating a competing offer and it banned the IRS from advertising the existence of the program or telling people where to find the free offering.

As soon as the ink was dry on Free File, the tax-prep companies set about to sabotage it. Intuit -- a massive company led by a bizarre cult figure -- and its competitors hid their Free File offerings deep in their sites, and used the "robots.txt" system to instruct search engines to hide them. They took out search ads for the phrase "Free File" that directed users to paid offerings with the word "free" in their names. They created "Free File" systems that would make you go through hours of work entering your data before surprising you with a notice that you didn't qualify for Free File because you'd paid interest on a student loan (or some other normal thing) and then ask you if you wanted to pay to keep your work and finish your tax-return in the non-free system.

There's a simple name for this kind of activity: fraud.

But it was a fraud in plain sight, one that went on for years and years, and which created a stealth tax on the majority of Americans, which they had to remit not to the IRS, but to the tax-prep companies, which used the money to lobby to make it even harder to get away from handing them your money every year.

Enter Propublica, whose relentless reporting did the seemingly impossible: it made a complicated, boring important thing into something that millions of Americans cared about. Something they cared about so deeply that they actually managed to shame the IRS into taking action.

Remember, the IRS is an administrative agency, under the direct control of the Trump administration. That means its commander-in-chief is a guy who said dodging his taxes means that he's "smart." While the IRS has many good, hardworking staffers, it has also been demoralized and gutted by the right, who have convinced millions of poor people that it's somehow in their interests if it's easier for rich people to duck their taxes.

Despite all this, the IRS has enacted new Free File rules: first, these rules ban tax-prep companies from hiding their Free File offerings, and it bans them from using deceptive names for non-Free File offerings (Turbotax will no longer be allowed to confuse Americans by offering "Turbotax Free" -- which is not free -- as a competitor to "Turbotax Free File," which is).

Second, the rule allows the IRS to develop its own competing Free File product, which means that the government agency that already knows how much tax you owe will allow you to review its findings each year and then either challenge them, or simply click OK, without paying a single cent of tax to Intuit or HR Block, and free you from filling in lengthy, bureaucratic forms.

This outcome is nothing short of miraculous: it did not come as the result of Congressional action. It did not come as the result of the Trump administration's inattention (the release came out the same day that the Trump administration revised its tax rules to allow money launderers to retain billions in the loot they've stashed offshore).

It came about as the result of fucking journalism. Propublica wrote its way into a better world, with relentless, deep, accessible reporting that made this boring, important thing come to life.

I am sympathetic to the idea that talking about politics isn't doing politics, but that's not entirely true. Learning about what's going on and telling the people you know about it and getting them to tell others is part of how we make change. Propublica's excellent reporting wouldn't have mattered if people hadn't read it -- and talked about it.

And Propublica has done this repeatedly over the past year, deeply reporting on naked, grotesque corruption in ways so vivid and undeniable that they actually changed things, and not in some abstract, boring way, but in ways that matter to the immediate, lived experience of real people who had been brutalized and poisoned and jailed and mistreated with impunity, for years, until Propublica wrote about it.

Here are some examples, just from the stories I paid attention to this year (Propublica does so much good work that I can't manage to cover all of it):

* Reformed South Carolina's "magistrate judge" system that let "judges" with no legal background and less training than barbers sentence poor people (most of them Black) to prison in defiance of their constitutional rights;

* Dismantled Illinois's system of Quiet Rooms where special ed kids were put into solitary confinement, sometimes for days at a time;

* Shamed a "Christian" hospital into ending its practice of suing thousands of patients, many of them its own employees, for inability to pay their medical debts, and forcing it to jettison the private army of debt collectors it kept on its payroll.

* Killed an Illinois scam whereby affluent parents temporarily gave up custody of their own children so they could steal college grants earmarked for poor children;

* Got two Louisiana cops fired for encouraging people to murder Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez;

In addition, Propublica has done lots of reporting that hasn't yet created political transformations, but has changed our debate and laid the groundwork for change to come: called attention to the penniless hero of the ransomware epidemic; discredited a "walking polygraph" system used by police forces to frame their preferred suspects with sheer junk science; documented the link between pharma company bribes and doctors' prescribing; named every former lobbyist in the Trump administration; tracked every penny of the 2008 bailout money; documented Wayne LaPierre's self-dealing from the NRA's war-chests; documented the grifty conservative PACs that scammed millions out of scared old white people with racist Obama conspiracies and then kept the money for themselves; published a blockbuster story on the theft of southern Black families' ancestral lands through a legal grift called "heirs' property"; debunked the "aggression detection" mics being installed in America's classrooms; outed a "ransomware consultant" that was working with ransomware crooks to simply pay the ransom, while pretending that they were able to get you your files back without enriching the crooks who locked them up; named and shamed Alabama sheriffs who lost their re-election bids and then spent thousands of public dollars on frisbees or stole discretionary funds, or destroyed food earmarked for prisoners, or drilled holes in all the department computers' hard-drives in a form of "vindictive hazing"; followed the payday lender industry to a Trump hotel where it staged an annual conference, funneling millions to the president's personal accounts shortly before Trump reversed Obama's curbs on predatory lending; documented how TSA body-scanners single out Black women for humiliating, discriminatory hair-searches; revealed the secret history of wealthy people destroying the IRS's Global High Wealth Unit; and did outstanding work on the Sackler family, a group of billionaire opioid barons whose products kickstarted the opioid epidemic that has now claimed more American lives than the Vietnam war.

2019 was a dumpster-fire of a year and 2020 could be worse -- or it could be the dawn that breaks after our darkest hour. Finding Propublica's victory lap on Free File on New Year's Day was just the sunrise I needed to give me hope for the year to come. Sometimes, simply finding the truth and telling it to the people can make a change.

I'm a Propublica donor, and an avid reader. I admit that sometimes when I see that PP has published another 15,000-word expose, I am slightly dismayed at the thought that I'm about to lose 1-2 hours of my life to digesting and writing up the new story, but that dismay is always overcome by excitement at the thought that they have turned over a new rock and found something genuinely awful beneath it, and that, with all our help, we can sterilize that foetid sludge with blazing sunshine.

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/31/go-propublica-go.html

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kurokoros · 5 years ago

Text

games | kenma (kinktober day 4)

Rated: M

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: kenma x fem!reader

Summary: Kenma has been working all day. You decide it’s time for a break.

AN: I was supposed to post the kuroo tentacle fic today, but it’s not done, so I’m posting this one instead. @kozumebri requested Kenma with day 25, so here we are!

Kinktober 2020 Day 25: Cock Warming + 27: Toys + 28: Pet Play

Warnings: smut, cock warming, pet play (the word “master” is used once in dialogue), toys, unprotected sex, overstimulation

As much as you love Kozume Kenma, sometimes you really hate his love of video games.

A pout forms on your lips as you stand in the doorway of his office. Leaning against the wall, you watch him edit another video for his channel. You aren’t sure what game it is now, but he’s been working for hours, and you’ve had just about enough.

It’s not abnormal for you to get bored while he works, and, while you’d normally be content to curl up on his lap and cuddle, lately you’ve been missing him in other ways.

Huffing quietly, you prop your hands on your hips. There’s nothing but smooth skin and lace under your fingertips. You look down at yourself one more time, making sure everything is perfect as you straighten your headband. A giddy smile makes its way onto your face as you touch something soft, excitement bubbling up in your chest. You and Kenma have discussed doing this before, but you just never found the right time between college, work, and all of your other responsibilities. A surprise might just be what both of you need right now

If this doesn’t catch Kenma’s attention, you aren’t sure what you’ll do.

He doesn’t notice you right away as you enter the room, his gaze still focused on the computer screen, his brows furrowed in thought. Your lips curl into a grin. Perfect. It isn’t often that you manage to catch Kenma off guard.

“Kenma,” you purr, practically skipping across the room.

The whiny tone of your voice must pick up over the audio he’s listening to, because he glances at you briefly in acknowledgment, but goes right back to editing. It takes a second before he goes rigid in his chair. The ever-present mask of boredom he wears crumbles away as he does a double-take. Kenma’s eyes widen. His mouth drops open. An audible sound of surprise escapes him as he takes in your lack of clothing, and a deep blush creeps up his neck as his gaze travels all the way to the fluffy cat ears sitting on top of your head.

It’s always been easy to fluster Kenma, and plopping down on his lap half-naked and mewling his name gets you exactly what you want. A choking sound sticks in the back of his throat, and Kenma barely stutters out a garbled version of your name as your arms wrap around him. For a second, he’s stiff beneath you, unsure what to do as you nuzzle against the curve of his neck and shoulder, but his hands quickly find a place on your hips after he takes off his headphones. Nimble fingers brush against bare skin as he relaxes beneath you. His breath stirs your hair as he sighs.

Your lips ghost across the side of his neck, and you press a kiss just above the collar of his sweatshirt.

Kenma shivers, gripping you tighter, and your lips curl with mischief. You can feel the heat radiating off of his flushed skin, and you practically purr when his tentative hands squeeze your hips.

As you kiss the side of his throat again, Kenma wets his lips, a quiet sound leaving him. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, gaze darting between the computer and the cat ears tickling his nose. Slowly, his fingertips glide across your back, unintentionally making you squirm as he reaches for your headband. His other hand rubs circles against your hip, and you nip at him as he tugs on one of the fluffy ears.

“Seducing you,” you tell him plainly, pressing another kiss to the side of his throat.

He stops playing with the tip of one ear. “Oh.”

Pulling away from his neck, you lean your head against his shoulder and blink up at him coyly. “Is it working?” The teasing tone of your voice makes him blush harder, and you giggle as his hair falls around his face bashfully. Even after all the times you’ve done this, he still gets shy sometimes. Giggling, you sit up and press a soft, sweet kiss against his cheek. “You’re so cute, Kenma.”

Huffing, he rolls his eyes, but you can feel his lips twitch, a smile threatening to reveal itself. Kenma releases the ear attached to your headband, both of his hands falling back to your hips. He squeezes fondly, thumbs sweeping across your skin. The tip of one finger traces the edge of your panties, soft, white lace perfectly matching the ears on your head.

You curl closer to his chest. A sigh escapes you as his hands squeeze your hips, less tentative than before. Voice taking on a whiny note, you prop your chin against his shoulder and pout. “You’ve been so busy all day.” Your palms slide up his chest teasingly before you wrap your arms around his neck. “You haven’t even taken a break in hours.” A shuddering breath fans across your lips as you lean in. “Come play with me?”

Groaning, Kenma lets you pull him down to meet you. Your fingers lock behind his neck, your palms cradling his jaw as you press your lips against his. Kenma is pliant beneath you, his hands on your hips and back as your mouth moves against his slowly, coaxing him to play. A quiet sound leaves the back of his throat as your tongue slides against his bottom lip, and Kenma nearly sighs as you suck his lip into your mouth, tugging with your teeth.

The hands on your hips pull you closer, dragging you against his lap. You grin as you settle over the bulge growing beneath his sweatpants. Warmth curls through your limbs and pools in your belly. Kenma’s touches grow firmer, less hesitant as he strokes your back, his lips moving with yours, addicted to the taste.

Your lips leave his with a wet sound, and you roll your hips against his as your mouth moves to his jaw, kissing and nipping your way across his skin while he sighs. Kenma’s eyes flutter shut as his head falls back against his chair. You pull your hands from his neck, fisting them in the front of his sweatshirt instead. Taking the opportunity, you drag your teeth across his jaw before moving your mouth to the side of his throat. His breath hitches. His pulse jumps beneath your lips.

Kenma’s fingers dig into your hips harder, a barely audible moan slipping from his mouth as you kiss your way down his neck, nibbling and sucking at every inch of his smooth skin, intent on leaving little marks behind. Nothing he can’t hide, of course, though you can’t deny the possessive thrill as you imagine thousands of his subscribers seeing the hickeys.

With that in mind, you bite down just a little harder. Beneath you, his bulge presses against your inner thigh as your teeth scrape across his skin. The heat of your breath on his neck goes right to his cock, his sweatpants a thin barrier between you. A faint, red mark and the outline of teeth linger as you stop sucking a bruise onto his neck, and you nip at him one last time, kitten-licks soothing the sting as you roll your hips against his, grinding down in search of sweet friction.

Above you, he makes another beautiful, breathy sound, and you disentangle your fingers from the soft fabric of his shirt, hands moving lower on his torso. Distracted by your lips and tongue, Kenma doesn’t notice you moving until your sneaky fingers are loosening the drawstring of his pants. By now, his work is long forgotten, editing shoved to the back of his mind as your hand slips beneath his clothes.

“Ah,” Kenma gasps as your fingers wrap around his cock. Your touch is teasingly light as you stroke him, your thumb rolling over the tip to smear the pre-cum beading there. Another broken version of your name falls from his mouth, and your lips curl into a smile against his throat. You shift your grip on him, nibbling on his collarbone as his hips rock against your hand, shallowly thrusting against your loose fist.

Your grip tightens around him, and a quiet moan falls from Kenma’s mouth. Fingers bite into your hips.

Kenma’s phone goes off on the desk behind you. Groaning, you drop your forehead against his shoulder. He shivers as your cat ears brush against his neck again, more sensitive than before. Peeking up at him, you silently beg him to ignore it, but he sighs. He looks just as dejected as you feel when he pries one of his hands off your hips and reaches for his phone when the alarm keeps blaring.

Without having to look, you know exactly what it is. A reminder of the deadline he set to have his videos finished editing by midnight.

It’s ridiculous and petty to glare at his phone as he silences the alarm, but you can’t help the frustrated pout that forms on your lips. You’re quick to turn that pout on Kenma, and for just a second you think he might cave under your pleading stare. For extra incentive, you stroke his cock again, gripping just the way he likes it.

His breath hitches. Kenma wets his lips, glancing at you, and then the reminder on his phone. It would be so easy to ignore the little notification and fall into you, but if he doesn’t finish this first, he’ll have Kuroo on his case. “I need to finish these,” he tells you reluctantly. Despite that, he does nothing to stop your naughty fingers from teasing him.

Your thumb rolls over his tip again, and you change the angle of your wrist just the slightest. The moan that leaves him is your reward. “I,” you stress, shifting your hips against his, “think it’s time for you to take a break.” Your breath fans over his face as you say it, your lips back on his jaw. “You’ve been working all day.”

He narrows his eyes, weighing his options as you kiss your way across his jaw. “One hour,” he says. “I really need to finish this.”

Sighing, you pull your hand from his pants and stop the slow path of your lips. You lean back against his thighs, putting just enough space between you to send him a serious look. “Promise?” you ask, waiting until he nods to relax. “Fine.” You move to slip off his lap and find something else to occupy your time with, but stop when he grabs your hips again, refusing to let you move. “Kenma?”

When you look at him again, his gaze is averted. Long strands of hair fall over his eyes as he ducks his chin towards his chest. You wait patiently as he fiddles with the lace on your panties, you head cocked to the side in confusion. He glances at you through his bangs, cheeks a little pink. “Stay?” he mumbles. Gold eyes flicker back to your head, those damn cat ears drawing his attention again. He just can’t seem to tear his eyes away from them for long.

Kenma meets your eyes, his gaze sharp with catlike focus you only see when he’s gaming or in bed with you. “Stay,” he says again, a little louder, a little firmer. You squeeze your thighs together, the command making your breath catch. Ever the observant one, Kenma notices right away. Again, he looks at the cat ears. Swallowing, Kenma wets his lips. “Come here, kitty.”

Coaxing hands urge you to rise off of his lap so your weight rests on your knees. In a bold move, he leans in to kiss you first this time. One of his hands slides away from your hips, and you shiver when his hand drops onto his lap. Kenma shoves down his sweatpants and underwear, his hard cock bopping against his stomach.

What he wants clicks, and arousal rushes through you as he hooks a finger around your panties and moves them aside.

“What a needy kitty, bothering me while I’m working,” Kenma murmurs. His thumb traces your slit, feeling how wet you are already. His cock presses against your pussy, and you roll your hips against him slowly, coating him in your arousal.

Both of you shudder when Kenma gentle guides you down onto his cock, and a sigh falls from your mouth at the familiar feeling of his cock rubbing against your walls. Before you can rock against him or move, Kenma’s hands are back on your hips, holding you still. “Don’t move,” he tells you, already reaching for his headphones. You try not to squirm, not used to having something so still inside you. As you settle into his lap and press your cheek to his shoulder, Kenma leans down enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Behave.”

You’re content to lounge on Kenma’s lap like an overgrown housecat for nearly half an hour before growing impatient.

At one point, he passes you his phone, and you mindlessly play one of the mobile games he downloaded recently. You curl into his chest, arms hanging over his shoulders loosely. The low hum of the video he’s editing is muffled by his headphones, but you can barely make out the sounds of music and, beneath that, the amused tone of his voice as Kenma clicks away at the computer behind you. The two of you are perfectly still aside from your occasional shifting and the hand that drifts to the back of your neck every few minutes. Kenma’s thumb brushes against your nape soothingly, and you try not to think about his cock buried deep inside you or the way your clit grinds against him perfectly with every subtle shift of his hips against yours.

You’re almost positive he’s doing it on purpose, but it’s hard to tell with Kenma. Sometimes, you think you see a small, satisfied smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, but it’s gone as soon as you look closer.

It only makes you wetter, knowing that he might be toying with you. He might not hold you down and outright deny you, but he has ways of making you squirm and beg for him. The hour isn’t up yet, but you can hardly focus on the phone in your hand anymore, painfully aware of his cock rubbing against your sweet spot and the way your arousal is leaking around him.

You lose whatever game you’re playing and close his phone, stuffing it in the pocket of his hoody.

“Kenma,” you whine, nuzzling against his shoulder. The cute, fluffy cat ears resting on top of your head tickle at his chin. You know he can hear you despite his headphones. When he doesn’t turn away from the video he’s editing, you pout, squirming against his lap to get his attention. Still, he stubbornly refuses to look at you. This time, the fingers that have been stroking the back of your neck fall still. And then, his touch leaves you entirely, his arm resting against the arm of his desk chair, just inches away. Huffing, you grind yourself against his lap.

That gets his attention.

A surprised sound sticks in the back of his throat, barely loud enough for you to hear. Gold eyes flicker in your direction for half a second, before quickly snapping back to the screen. You hide a grin against his sweatshirt as the pale skin of his neck flushes red again. His cock throbs inside you.

You squeeze around him purposely, blinking innocently when he levels you with an annoyed look. He’s just about to turn back to his video when you do it again, your hips rolling forward teasingly to make him focus on you.

The slight friction of his cock rubbing against your walls makes you shiver. You’re hyperaware of every move after sitting still for so long, and you know he must be too. As disinterested as Kenma likes to pretend he is, there’s no hiding just how sensitive he really is. And that’s something you take full advantage of.

Careful to keep your shifting to a minimum, you give Kenma no indication of what you’re about to do. His eyes are on you, scrutinizing you, attentive to every twitch of your fingers and your hot breath on the side of his neck. It clicks when he feels you rise an inch off his cock, but he isn’t fast enough to stop you from sinking back down, your warm, wet walls squeezing around him perfectly.

Your eyes snap up when Kenma murmurs your name, low and breathy. By now, he’s stopped working, his attention solely on you. There’s a glint in his eyes that you know means trouble, and the anticipation of what he might do has heat flooring your stomach.

His expression doesn’t change as he says, “You’re being a brat.” The bluntness of his statement makes your eyes widen, but you don’t deny it. Very rarely does Kenma talk like this, but when he does—you bite your lip to keep from making a sound. Your thighs tense around him, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed. “Do you want attention that bad, kitty?” By now, his headphones are down around his neck. His hands are back on your hips, grip firm yet gentle.

“You know what I want.” The way you grind down against him is anything but subtle.

Kenma’s breathing hitches. The tips of his fingers dig into your sides as he holds you a little bit tighter, stopping you from doing it again. “I thought you were going to sit still until I was done?”

Unable to help the smirk that appears on your face, you press your mouth against his shoulder again. Your voice is muffled as you speak. “Will you give me a treat if I do, master?” The name is tacked on cheekily, your eyes alight with mischief as you lean further into the kink.

A sharp inhale is his immediate response. Kenma looks at you with wide eyes that flicker back to the cat ears on your head. Even while he was working, he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off of them for long. The long fur just seemed to brush teasingly over his skin at exactly the right time, refusing to stray from his thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time.

And that name definitely doesn’t help. You and Kenma haven’t experimented much with dominance; neither of you ever cared to, but something about the way the word master rolls off your tongue makes his thoughts come to an abrupt halt. The heat that bursts in his chest is white-hot and all consuming, and Kenma swallows thickly.

“You are so…” he trails off, shaking his head. His eyebrows furrow, and you blink up at him innocently, still carefully hiding your smile. Though, what he says next is surprising enough to wipe that grin away. “Fine.” He leans forward suddenly, reaching around you to yank open one of the drawers in his desk. The new angle forces his cock deeper inside you, and you bite your lip to smother a breathy whine of his name. “You want a treat, kitty?”

When he sits up again, there’s a small object dangling from his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to recognize what it is, and when you do your cunt clenches around him.

Kenma holds the small, red vibrator in front of you nonchalantly, sharp gaze focused on the subtle shift in your expression as you stare. Pupils blown wide with lust. Lips parted in anticipation. You’re so close that he can feel the way your breath catches in your throat.

Slowly enough that you could stop him if you wanted to, Kenma moves the toy closer to you, his hand dipping between both your bodies. Your eyes dart back to his as soon as it disappears from your view, and you could swear there’s something in his gaze that you’ve never seen before. Molten gold turned greedy. His stare is nothing short of hypnotic, almost dangerous as they draw you in.

You wonder if you’ve baited him too much, but the thought is abruptly ripped away when Kenma switches the vibrator on and presses it against your clit.

You lurch forward with a squeal as soon as the vibrations buzz against your sensitive nerve endings. Like before, your walls clamp down on Kenma’s cock, your hips grinding down against his as he presses the toy even closer, swirling the tip to mimic the movement of his hands. “Kenma,” is all you manage to choke out, his name slipping from your mouth again as your fingers bite into his arms. Your head falls forward against his shoulder. Tears well in your eyes at the sudden stimulation.

Without saying a word, Kenma holds the vibrator against you, letting you squirm and twitch as he rubs the toy against your swollen clit. Each slow circle has you clenching tighter around him, and your hips grind down against his in a slow, stuttering rhythm that goes right to his cock. His breathing grows heavier with every mewl of his name that falls from your pretty mouth. His free hand tightens around your hip, pulling you even closer.

You’re panting as you roll against him, whimpering and gasping against the side of his neck, barely audible over the sound of the vibrator caught between you. The toy presses against you perfectly, seeming to suck at your swollen clit, and you can’t help the way you clench down around him.

With your arousal coiled into a tight little ball already, it doesn’t take much for Kenma to turn you into an absolute mess in his lap. You’re slick and tight around him, both sensitive from the way you’ve been wrapped around him for nearly an hour now. His work is long forgotten, all of his attention turned to you and the way you’re so close to falling apart.

The vibrator presses even closer. The lazy circles he was drawing against you become more precise. Faster. Tighter. Kenma watches you through half-lidded eyes, breathing heavily as he helps you grind against his lap, letting you set the pace. He drinks in the sight of you like this, clutching at his shoulders and whimpering his name, gasped pleas falling from your mouth as he plays with your clit. You keep getting tighter around him, and his dick twitches inside you.

“Kenma,” you whine as he moans against your ear. A shudder tears through you as he angles the vibrator just right and holds it there. It’s too much. The vibrations. The slow grind of his cock inside you. His hot breath against your ear. The soft sounds he makes as your walls flutter around him.

Kenma cums first. Your walls are tight around him, so warm and wet, and the rhythmic clenching of your pussy feels too good. He grits his teeth, cock twitching inside of you one more time. Hot, thick fluid fills you up as he cums inside of you, and his release triggers your own. You spasm in his lap as your orgasm crashes through you, face buried against his shoulder to muffle your moans. Kenma groans at the way you clench around him, milking him.

Panting, you fall limp against him and nuzzle against the side of his neck, unable to catch your breath with the vibrator still snug against you. You whine. Your thighs twitch around him, tears welling in your eyes as it becomes too much.

Kenma, he doesn’t turn off the toy. The steady vibrations against your swollen clit continue, overstimulating you. You shift on his lap, his cock still half-hard inside you, and shiver as you feel his cum start to leak out around him. If Kenma notices the mess you’re making in his lap, he doesn’t seem to care.

“Ah, Kenma,” you whimper, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. He doesn’t let you. Kenma’s grip is gentle, but firm, and he rolls his chair closer to the desk, keeping you trapped between the furniture and his chest. “I can’t—” A broken moan cuts you off.

Kenma slides his headphones back on, expression slipping into one of indifference as he glances down at you, still shuddering against the onslaught of stimulation against your sensitive clit. “I thought you wanted attention, kitty?” he murmurs plainly, careful to hide his smile as he turns back to the video he was editing before you interrupted him. “Why don’t you stay there until I’m done.”

#kenma x reader #hq x reader #hq smut #haikyuu!!#hq

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binniesthighs · 4 years ago

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh holy holy heck this chapter is SO DAMN EXCITING hehehe I had sosososo much writing and doing all the research!! please let me know if there is anything factual/cultural that I need to fix! I tried the best I could although I most def am not an expert in Egyptian culture so I appreciate it a lot :) hehe i hope ya have fun reading this chapter teehee oh! also I love hearing what you thought of it too! :D

Four

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, collegestudent!seungmin, royal!minho, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, several mentions of food and alcohol as well as getting tipsy/drunk that good, good making out, suggestive themes

CWs: mentions of guns, mentions of knives, themes of jealousy (expressed by the reader)

Word count: 7.5k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE

“Well, we’re in Cairo alright.”

Two tugged the amazed young stow-away-student, Seungmin, by the hand of his backpack to keep him from running into one of the palm tree planters decorating the terminal. The young man had nearly slept the whole flight due to the length as well as the exasperation that he had just been through. While his eyes were still darkened from his nap, his glossy pupils still wondered all around him.

“I take it back. I’m so glad that I almost died so I could end up here with you guys.”

Jeongin slapped him from the backside of his head. “Never be thankful for almost dying. Life is a lot more fucking fragile than you think. This isn’t just some joyride--”

“--Ease up F.” You interrupted your partner as you shouldered your bag. The kid had already been through enough already: he didn’t need accosting on top of it all.

The dashing prince sighed out and stretched his arms. “Ahhhh Cairo. It’s been a while; too long actually.”

The airport was humid: the kind of sticky warmth that dripped down your neck in a matter of seconds to then get caught above your lip. It wasn’t much help to the anxiety that already had seeped into your veins. The closer you got to a gun the more comfortable you would be. You and the other two guards created a formation around the prince with two in the front and the other in the flank. While each of you were dressed in regular street clothes, your responsibility of his detail still hung over your head with a severe air.

Chan threw his arm over the young student with an obscene grin. His hair had become a little disheveled from the plane seat and his hoodie, but he didn’t appear to mind. Seeing him so normal was somewhat of an odd change to your previous unbreakable impression of him.

“Seungmin my friend, you’ve never lived until you’ve been to Cairo. I’ve never seen another place so enriched in history in my whole life...it puts my kingdom to shame. It’s almost like...you can just feel the time here: hundreds of thousands of years...beauty, art, food, industry...I’ve got a thing or two to learn.”

Seungmin nodded at the prince’s grandiose gestures in the terminal with an enamored smile. “I can’t wait to see it!”

Your partner put a firm hand on the prince’s back to guide him to the baggage claim. “We won’t be here for long, so, don’t get too excited. We’ve come here for one reason and we shouldn’t dally otherwise.”

The young boy appeared to frown, and Two bit his lip with a little chuckle. “Way to crush the kids dreams F.”

“You know the mission, J.” Jeongin gritted his teeth with the words. “Everything is set, there will be a car waiting for us in the garage, and at the hotel we’ll have anything we need.”

Prince Chan lulled his head back with heels clicking on the flooring. Rogue strands of his hair hung over his sunglasses where he threw a look back at you while pulling them down.

“Don’t forget our little deal Bee? We’ll have time for a little pleasure.”

The white haired agent rolled his eyes with gusto then adjusted the royal’s glasses over his face. “We’ve still got to be careful, you Highness. We never know where they could have eyes.”

“I know where I’ve got mine...” He turned back once more to throw his cockiness in your general direction.

“Listen to F, your Highness...if you want to live.”

“Oooo. Feisty as ever, Bee. I love it when you bite back.” Chan turned to his new pet, Seungmin, “She’s really something isn’t she?”

The young man nodded, but not necessarily because he agreed, but it just seemed like it better to agree with a prince than to disagree with him.

The air appeared to turn even thicker in the summery and arid city and your group approached the parking lot half shaded. Outside of the cement lot, iridescent waves of heat wiggled on the horizon, and further, the astonishing urban sprawl of Cairo, and just over it, the stretch of the Nile and Giza. Palms and other varieties of plants spotted the landscape and above it all, a perfectly crystal blue sky streaked with thin clouds. Had the circumstances been different, you really would have wished to have been there for pleasure.

“This one. Right here.” Jeongin announced upon spotting the black armored sedan. It wasn’t the most inconspicuous vehicle, but you were prioritizing safety over aesthetics. Your partner touched his index fingerprint to the car door’s invisible panel, and it flashed blue just as the lock had at the safehouse with the ticking clock insignia.

Two whipped his head around to make one last check of the surroundings before taking off his sunglasses and reddened eye. “Get in. Both of you.” He urged the prince and the student. He popped the drivers side open to find a different pair of glasses in the storage compartment: gold framed aviators.

“Huh,” He said happily while putting them on. “This is more my style.” He rummaged around a bit more to find a new pair of black framed glasses there too. “Fox! Think fast!” He threw them over to your partner who sighed out with relief.

“Thank god.”

The trunk opened with a mechanical sounding creek, and you lifted up the trunk bed to find your whole arsenal: Heckler & Koch MP5′s submachines, Remington 870 shotguns, and Glocks complete with thigh holsters. Among the pile of metal, various knives and other weapons were held in foam holders.

“They’ve got knives back there?” Two asked while pulling the rearview mirror to see.

“Oh yeah. What? You more of a knife guy?” You teased while looping your thigh holster over your cargo pants. It fit just right.

The illusive man popped his gum with a shiny smile. “‘Don’t ever have to reload them...that’s what I’m saying.”

“Thank you Carroll.” Jeongin sighed upon seeing the thick laptop among the weapons. “Finally I can do some real work. That kid’s damn Chromebook was killing me. I nearly short circuited it trying to connect to our network.”

“You what?!” Seungmin was suddenly much more interested.

“Dont worry yourself too much, its still fine.”

“Are there cameras in here?” You quickly asked your partner.

“Agency should’ve fried them a long time ago. Why?”

From the trunk bed you sized up the Glock to feel its weight and how cool it settled into your sweating hand. You unloaded the magazine to see that it had already been filled.

“Carroll. She really is too kind to us.” You slid the magazine back in then, pulled back the slider to lock it once more, catching Chan’s adoring glance.

“Something interesting pretty boy?”

The prince appeared to shiver a little, but brushed it off sighing, “Oh, nothing.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Either it was Carroll or the King, but someone had spared no expense on the young prince. The sun set upon the sparking Nile where you had arrived at the Four Seasons Hotel Cairo at Nile Plaza.

Anything for His Royal Highness The Prince.

The towering and gleaming building was a sight to behold in and of itself. It was nestled right into the riverside anchored with several leisurely sailboats bopping in the evening breeze. As day crept into night, the city grew with a swell of lights washing as far as you could see. Extensive bridges and roadways glowed with headlights and every building appeared to be illuminated along with more boats strolling down the river in a rainbow of colors and music.

The prince craned his head as close to the window as he could and rubbed together his hands excitedly. He looked from you to your partners, finally making a disapproving scoff.

“Come on. You’re not just a little excited to be here?”

“We’re here on business, how many times do we have to explain?” Jeongin typed away at his computer from the front seat.

“Bee?” He looked back to you with a hopeful little glint to his eye.

“Like Fox said...tomorrow is our appointment with White Rabbit, then we’re on the first flight back home for you.”

The young prince frowned, but this quickly faded once he had seen the golden brass doors to the magnificent hotel. Seeing the state that the four of you were in, it was a bit comical that you had rolled up to a place such as this. Immediately a valet and bellhop jogged up to the car wearing perfectly pressed uniforms and spotless shined shoes. Little did they know you had no belongings to your name...the rest was waiting in your suite: the royal kind.

Seungmin cranked his neck to take in the scale of the building in all of it’s regal glory and let out an airy laugh his with his backpack straps snapped tight.

“Holy shit.” He exclaimed with a giant smile

Two rose a “no thank you” hand to the valet, and asked him where the garage was in perfect Arabic. The gesture surprised you...as many things did with that man. Jeongin gave a little nod in appreciation to the bellhop and expressed with his own broken version of Arabic that you group had no luggage. The young man was confused, but still gladly took the bills that Jeongin had slipped into his hand for the inconvenience.

“We’re staying here?” Seungmin wondered while he followed you in.

“When you travel with The Prince, it comes with some perks.” Chan tore off his glasses with a particularly prideful grin.

“I feel like I need to pay for just...breathing in here.”

Indeed, it was a luxurious and grand place. The atrium was patterned with various plush lounge chairs and benches and the path was made of emerald green marble tiles with swirling designs of beige loops. Thick, round columns also supported the ceilings in the lobby, and crystal glass chandeliers sparkled. On several tables, massive floral arrangements had been freshly placed, and you wondered how much the hotel must've paid for them to look that good just to have them replaced the next day.

A couple formalities were exchanged with the worker at the front desk, and soon the keycards to the royal suite were placed into your hands. Seungmin held his piece of plastic as if it were a gold bar in his hands whereas Chan shoved it right into his front pocket.

“Everything that we should need should be up in the room.” You told the group who were too distracted to hear what you had just said.

Just before you had entered the elevator, a tug at your sleeve stopped you in your tracks. Jeongin pulled you back, nodding at Two to go with the others up first.

“Remember what we talked about before?” He muttered in the hollow and stone corridor. “About the prince?”

“I need to stay beside him?”

Your partner nodded with a furrowing brow. “We’re out in the open here, it’s a big city...anyone could be watching us. No distractions, no messing around, no anything. We see White Rabbit and we leave. Hell, I’m even inclined to make sure he doesn’t leave the room...”

“Jeongin...” You squeezed your partner’s shoulder which felt stringy and tense under your fingertips. “I got it. Trust me. He won’t leave my sight. I promise.”

“..Okay.” He said with a nervous brush to his hair, then he pressed the elevator button with his knuckle.

“You...okay?”

The young man appeared to snap out of a trance. “What? ...Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m keeping it together fine. It’s just...there’s a lot riding on this mission. I don’t...”

The gold and reflective elevator dinged to the ground floor.

“We can’t disappoint Carroll with this one. There’s too much riding on it...I can’t disappoint Carroll.”

You invited your partner into the marbled and mirrored interior of the small space.

“Don’t worry, we won’t.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Even without the help of his royal helpers, Chan managed to clean himself up nice...provided, only the finest clothes had been sent for him to wear. While they weren’t the usual designer labels that he was used to, it was clear that they had been picked out from the finest markets and boutiques in the area. Chan, as he always was, was a prince to the full extent of the word. After a shower and some perfume to his chest, he was the same man that you had been introduced to.

A loose linen shirt swayed from his frame with little regard for the usage of buttons. He wore slacks that had been pressed made of a kind of fabric that you had never seen before, but looked airy and comfortable. As always, there was a small assortment of shoes for him to choose from as well. He picked brown leather loafers, then tucked up his sleeves to reveal his arms; scratched as they were, but still strong and spiderwebbed with thick veins.

Arrangements had been made for you to share one of the bedrooms with him--as much as you had fought it at first. Chan was thrilled with the idea, and gladly let you settle into his room with your small assortment of sidepieces and modest set of clothes by regulation of The Agency. While it had mostly been denim button downs and several kinds of functional trousers, they had sent an evening gown.

The silky white fabric was not unlike the dress that had worn for the gala, but it appeared to be even more sultry once you held it to your frame. The thin spaghetti straps barely held to your shoulders and the back dipped nearly halfway down your back.

Knowing the man that you had an appointment with, you figured the dress would make it just a little bit easier to talk to him. Along with it, there was a matching set of diamond earrings and a necklace that glinted with the same sheen of the sea.

“You’ll look gorgeous in that.” Chan said while slipping on a wristwatch. “I’m sure that it will suit you perfectly.”

The wooden bedside nightstand creaked when you put your holster and Glock in with a matching matte black knife. You had to be careful with that one, as it had nearly cut your finger upon inspection earlier.

“Hm. I think the both of us know that you’d prefer it on these lovely marble floors rather than on me. Correct?”

The confident prince strode across the room in the dim lighting of a couple lamps with stained glass shades. Outside of the balcony attached to your room, the sheer curtains blew in the night air and distorted the city lights across the river. Further, Cairo Tower surged with a pink light wrapping around the length were the cylinder pierced the sky.

“Maybe.” He tutted, then crinkled the king-sized bed where he sat. The prince’s disposition was alluring, there was no denying. He tiled his head to inspect you further, jaw clenching with a sharp angle and a testing glare to his brown pupils. The man smiled slightly while rubbing his index and ring finger down the sleeve of your considerably less scratchy blouse.

“I hope that during our time here Bee, I’ll get to know you a little better. I’m...really looking forward to our drink later. I made reservations for us.”

“Reservations? When did you do that?”

“Oh. When you were showering.” He smirked at his sneaky plans unbeknownst to you.

“If you think that I’m letting you go anywhere else besides this hotel--”

“--Bee?” The young royal grew quieter, softer, careful even. His hand cascaded from your arm down to your waist where he tentatively went to grab at your hip and squeeze lightly there.

While your first reaction was to swat him away, your second crept up on you unexpectedly, and swelled with a kind of confused euphoria feeling the pressure of him on your body. You let his hand linger there, thumb pressed into your hipbone.

“You don’t need that dress to be beautiful.”

His words snapped you back; sickly sweet, and sticky in your chest. You cast his hand off of you.

“You’re crossing the line, your Highness. Don’t...don’t touch me again.”

The royal sighed as he rose, then inspected his face in the sizeable mirror. Each of his cuts and scars had been skillfully covered with makeup the best he could manage.

“Bee, I’d cross multiple lines for you. I thought you knew?”

“THIS BED IS FUCKIN’ AMAZING!!” Seungmin called from the opposite of the suite.

The prince smiled, then followed you to the door.

“I’ve already got enough on my hands, your Highness. I ask that you not distract me.”

“Distract you?”

As soon as you had said it, regret bit at the tips of your ears. You couldn’t meet his teasing glances, but rather slid one of your more discrete sidepieces into your crossbody bag--as if guns as such could be such a thing.

“I-I...I’ll sleep on the couch.” You then resolved out loud, however the prince chuckled at your sudden break.

“As you wish Bee.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“I think that this is the best meal that I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!!”

Seungmin kicked his legs under the table to the embarrassed glances of both Jeongin and Chan. Before you, the prince had ordered a variety of both cold and hot mezzah dishes with a couple main entrees for you to share. While he was the only one to drink, he indulged in the most expensive wine that the hotel had to offer. Granted, everything would be paid for in cash from The Agency, however the Prince swore up and down that anyone could order anything that they wanted and that The Agency would be paid back in full. You and your partners ate modestly, however the young student didn’t hold back. As the boy shoved his face, it appeared to make the prince happy to see him eating so well.

You were still an odd group, and garnered curious glances from other restaurant guests. While they were only glances in passing, they still didn’t make you feel any better. You had already drawn enough attention to yourself with you being an odd mix of foreigners who each held themselves differently. You could sense that you partner felt it too while he sipped at his seasonal soup with eyes up to scan the room as he did so.

Chan threw his arm behind your chair to take in the rest of the room: perfectly decorated with jade green chandeliers and perfectly symmetrical wallpaper and furnishings. It was as if he felt somehow content with your strange little group; like he was the ringleader of it all or some king of the round table. For a moment, he paused to watch the way that the boats passed by on the river from the window nearest to him and sighed. Knowing him, he was probably enjoying running for his life in this way.

Two cleared his throat and unbuttoned his fashionable suit jacket as the waiters came to clear the table for dessert.

“So. What are the specs for tomorrow?”

Jeongin fiddled with his glasses, then dabbed away at the corners of his mouth. “He’s invited us to come around 11pm. He wants us to dress up too--as I’m sure you’ve all seen the clothes that have been provided for us. He apparently loves his formalities, but, anything to make him feel more comfortable I suppose. His men will meet us in the front and take us to him, then we try our best not to fuck it up.”

“--Which we won’t.” You soothed your partner.

Seungmin perked up, “I’m coming too?”

“How else are we going to look after ya, kid?” Two ruffled up the young man’s hair.

“W-wait. Didn’t you say that it’s a club? Will they even let me in? I’m not like, 21 yet? I mean, I will be in a couple months--”

“--Ahhh you’re so cute.” Chan beamed. “If you’re rolling with us that doesn’t matter.”

Seungmin blushed and played with the condensation of his water glass. “Oh.”

Your partner shifted in his seat. “Speaking of. Considering that you’re “one of us” now. We need to discuss something important with you. Your identity.” He looked over to you to finish the rest of the speech that had been pushed off for just a bit too long.

“Your name...is your most valuable asset. It’s the only thing about yourself that you can keep for yourself. No one else should know it besides you...and, well, us. If they know your name, they know your family, they know where you live, where you go to school, even that girl that you had a crush on in the fourth grade. Got it?”

Seungmin gulped dry with blown out eyes. “I-I think that I understand.”

“What do you want us to call you from now on?”

He paused, considering towards the ceiling. ”Well...if you’re B, and he’s F...and he’s J...I could be S? Simple enough right?”

“S it is then.”

The waiters arrived with every dessert possible: chocolate cake, Crème Brule, fruit cheesecake garnished with mint, as well as traditional desserts like Om Ali and Mehalabiya--a type of milk pudding dressed with delicate, pink, edible flowers.

Seungmin--now dubbed S--made happy little eating sounds while he tried a little bit of everything.

“Thank you.” You finally spoke to the prince, who now smelled strongly of Lotus and Jasmine.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind treating my friends.”

The word hung in the air, and you didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Friends.

“Where is this reservation that you mentioned?”

He took a swing from his crystal glass with finesse. “Hm. That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Jeongin told me that I need to keep an eye on you, you know that? It would be best if we didn’t leave the hotel at all--”

“--But what would be the fun in that?” The prince nearly pouted.

From the others side of the table, Two in his aviators brushed off his lap before standing. “I’m going to get some sleep, if that’s alright with you? I’m feeling pretty jetlagged and I want to be prepared for tomorrow. Excuse me.”

The slender man bowed to you at the table, then even deeper to the prince.

“What was that about?” Jeongin muttered while he poked at the thin caramel layer of his French dessert.

“Actually, I think I want to head to bed too, I’m stuffed.” Seungmin rubbed his belly in his contentment. “Also...I think I might have homework due...heh. I don’t know...I’ve got to figure out all these all these time differences and stuff.” He pushed in his chair then gave the prince a deep bow. “Thank you, your Highness.”

“My pleasure.” Chan said with a tiny bow back. “Rest up, kid.”

With the empty holes at the table, the silence was deafening.

“And then there were three.” Jeongin yawned. “Bee? Wanna do some laps in the morning? I saw that they had a pool? Wanna see if you can beat my record...again?”

“Psh. I was coming off that biochemical cocktail the last time we tired. You had an advantage.”

“Then you’ll beat me? Hm! I look forward to that.” Your adorable partner flashed the first smile that you’d seen in a couple days. You missed it, you realized.

“Sleep tight Bee. Goodnight your Highness.”

“Thank you Fox.” The prince mirrored his warm smile.

Knives and forks clinked on china in the dining room, and music softly payed the soundtrack of the evening. A low hum filled the space where the tourists and patrons chatted among themselves. It was peaceful and normal amidst everything that had been pricking your skin and plaguing worry over your mind. The prince merely sighed, sparking eyes reflecting the candles dying out on the table.

“And now it’s just the two of us.”

“Seems like it.”

“Can I whisk you away now?”

“Whisk? Who said that I would allow any whisking?”

“Come on...Bee. Just this one time? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

You laughed out incredulously at the comment. “You out of all people can’t promise something like that.”

“I guess you’re right about that. But...still, I won’t try to make a scene or anything.”

The royal placed his napkin on the table with his knife and fork respectfully tilted off the edge of his plate.

“Follow me?”

Chan held out his hand. It was pink with heat and scraped a little from the glass that had pierced the fragile flesh. In some way, you had felt a twinge of guilt seeing the small injury knowing that you couldn’t have protected him well enough then. You allowed him to lace your fingers with yours, and felt the rough cuts of his scars in your palm.

You had promised to yourself that he would never know such pain again.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

“Annnd...this is it!”

You had taken all of twenty paces outside of the hotel when Chan gestured with open arms to the riverfront. Just at the riverbank, a steamboat was anchored with open doors for hotel guests to enter. The massive, multideck, white steamboat shone like the moon peaking at the ocean’s horizon. Each of the semi-circle windows were lined with white lights and from the inside, the delightful sound of laugher and live music spilled out to the glossy water of the Nile.

“W-what is this?”

“Well…it’s a dinner cruise but I just signed us up for the bar part. Are you...surprised? I thought that it must be pretty safe considering that we’re on the water and no one can drive up and shoot at us.”

“I mean...it’s a bit closed off, but nothing that I can’t handle.”

The prince held out his arm for you to lead the way, then took your hand to help you watch your step down the stairs. Chan provided his name to the conductor in elegant sounding Arabic, leaving you shocked.

“Y-you speak Arabic too?”

Chan chuckled once more, taking your hand in his to bring you down the creaking wood deck with swinging with lanterns above your heads.

“As a royal and diplomat, it’s best for me to know how to communicate if I might need to.”

“I must say your Highness, I am definitely impressed.”

“What? You thought I was just another pretty face?” The charming prince escorted you to a room within the steamboat that was lined with red velvet carpets and small bar tables with tea candles and water lilies floating in a shallow dish. He pulled out your chair before his own, then settled with hands folded in his lap. “I’m trained in hand-to-hand too, although I could use a refresher; that was so long ago, back when I went to school.”

“Hand-to-hand? Well! You really are full of surprises.”

The prince appeared smug and faintly amused by the compliment as he crossed his legs under the table and leaned in with his dizzying floral scent.

The waitress appeared and Chan flexed his language skills once more while he ordered a Hemmingway Daiquiri for himself and a French 75 for you. Somewhere off in the distance or perhaps a different part of the boat, louder and more excitable music played along with the echoing claps of those who listened along. Here, it was much quieter, and the loud sound was replaced with a jazz song that you had heard before--likely from your more formative years.

“It’s a beautiful night.” Chan began, “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me. I know that I’ve been a bit forward, but, I appreciate you entertaining me.”

“If I had said no, what would’ve happened then?”

“Well, maybe I would’ve dropped it, but...knowing you...I don’t think that I would’ve given up easily.”

The waitress returned with the drinks on a silver platter: his grapefruit pink and yours the color of a lemon drop.

The royal rose his glass for you to clink with yours, “To...adventures.”

“To adventures.”

With a resounding sound, the glasses met, and you watched the way that the shimmering liquid ripped across the prince’s nose.

The two of you sat for several moments more, saying nothing, but sipping and soaking in the night breeze and the humidity that made your whole body feel blanketed with a sense of calm. You had felt this way before back at the safe house, and it snuck up on you once more. Simply exisiting with the prince provided you with a sense of solace that had long since faded from your life. The sense of responsibility that you felt for the man was noticeable, but you couldn’t help but notice how he provided for you the same sense of safety that you did for him.

Perhaps it was the loneliness of the job and the solitude that came along with it. Was that you craved to be touched? Listened to? Admired? You had distanced yourself from irrational things such as love and other feelings of attachment. In your line of work, people died often, and you had to move on just as fast as their lives had been taken from them. You supposed that you had become unfeeling at this point...but this prince, so full of himself and focused on the material...there was something about him that reminded you how to feel.

“Bee? What are you thinking about?” He asked carefully.

“Oh...nothing.”

“You looked kind of lost here.”

“Was I?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah...yeah. I’m fine. Maybe the drink is just...getting to me.”

“Just one drink?” Chan giggled a bit, “I didn’t take you for being a lightweight Bee. I thought that they gave you like, drinking lessons or something back at that agency of yours.”

“I’m fine. I shouldn’t have more than one drink anyway.”

The prince nodded, understanding. “So, what will you tell me about yourself? Is there anything that you’re allowed to tell me? Or...will you always be this mysterious, beautiful, enigma?”

“Me? Enigmatic? Ha! Hardly.”

“Well? What then?” The prince sucked at the lime garnishing his glass. “Since I don’t have the pleasure of knowing your real name, I’d love it if you could tell me something.”

Over the stereo, the muted trumpet played along with the twang of thick upright bass strings,

“I suppose I could tell you how...” Chan leaned in, “I didn’t want to join The Agency. At first.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“It felt like a bit of a last resort and anything that is a last resort is something that can’t come easy.”

Chan titled his head as if to say, I’m listening.

“Life...fucking sucks sometimes. Sometimes...you’re left...living with your sleazy uncle with a letter addressed to you post mortem telling you to carry on the family name if you want to feel some connection to the parents that you never knew.”

The royal cast his eyes down, “I-I’m so sorry.”

“The Agency has been everything I’ve known since I was a teenager. This life...it’s everything. I think in a way I feel obligated to it...since it was what took my parents from me...I owe it to them to do a job that they spent so much energy on so that it wasn’t in vain.”

You stopped, realizing the weight of your words in the air and how they cut like the blade of the knife that you kept tucked in your waistband sheathed in a leather cover. Once the sharp metal was taken from it’s confines, there was nothing to protect those from the damage it could do.

“Bee...I don’t know what to say besides I’m sorry. That’s terrible. I can’t imagine what it must be like to loose your parents and have been thrown into this life...no one deserves that.”

“Its okay.” You sighed. “I did it to myself. Now, it’s of no concern. I can take care of my own, and I have a new family. I try not to look back.”

As he had done numerous times before that night, Chan’s hand reached out for yours under the table, brushing up against the white cloth.

“I can’t say how much I appreciate you enough for what you do; risking your life for me...I owe you everything Bee.” The prince softened, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.

The chug of the steamboat hissed softly behind you in that back bar room, and just through the windows, you could see the stars dotting the sky just as they did in any corner of the world. They were a reminder that while some things changed, others didn’t.

The echo of footsteps on the deck clicked, causing you to turn a careful glance back to the direction of the sound. The man who entered was dressed in a casual cotton button up and navy slacks. On the white of his breast, he wore a pin holding the symbol of a crest.

“Lee Minho?” Chan gasped.

“Your Highness!” The handsome man bowed immediately with a startled little smile.

The friendly prince stood immediately upon seeing the other royal to shake his hand. “What a coincidence that we meet again!”

Lee Minho shied with a polite smile while fiddling with his hair that looked to be masterfully styled. “Must be...fated. Or something like that.”

“Are you alright? Last I saw you was at the shooting at the gala. I’m so glad to see that you’re safe. You didn’t get injured I hope?”

This close, Lee Minho had oddly cat-like eyes that were as intense as they were alluring. He was just as you had remembered him to be--put together and polished like a true royal, dastardly handsome with all the right curves to his body, and just enough mystery to him to pique the interest of anyone who had sensed his air--just as the prince had.

“What are you doing in Cairo?” Chan asked, gesturing for the stranger to pull up a chair.

Lee Minho swatted away the question with an annoyed cringe. “Royal stuff, you know how it goes. Everyone is always trying to poke their noses in places where they shouldn’t be...unless they’re looking to get themselves killed. That's why they send me. I’m dispensable.”

“Oh, I’d hardly say that.”

In seconds the prince’s entire body had shifted towards the direction of the other man, and hung onto each of his words as if they were a siren song.

“When you’re not as high up in the ranks as you are your Highness, royalty starts to feel more like servitude than a legitimate position.”

“So, where are you poking your nose?”

Lee Minho’s eyes nervously flicked to you, and Chan realized that he had skipped right over introductions.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce the two of you. Minho, this is Bee, my--”

“--I’m a member of his detail.” You spoke for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally Lee Minho. I recall seeing you at the gala.”

Minho bowed slightly, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”

It was obvious that you had made the man uncomfortable, just as you had liked it to be. While you could see what the prince had seen in him, you had the disposition to be much less trusting than his Highness.

“Which royals are employing you? I’d love to know! It’s always exciting for me to learn about who is plotting what. The royal drama keeps me really entertained.”

Minho sat up straighter, then waved a hand for the waitress to come scuttling over.

“Some of my family members. You wouldn’t know them, we’re all dreadfully insignificant to be honest. They heard all this business about those men with the red crests and they’re starting to get scared. After they targeted...you, they’re wondering which royal family might be next...if any. I’m here to find out who they are, their whereabouts, anything else.”

“Wow! That’s actually what we--”

“--And where are you planning on getting this information if I may ask?” You hushed the prince’s loose lips as quickly as you could.

Minho leaned in over the flickering candle to lower his tone, “I heard that there’s an informant here in the city who might now something about this group. They’ve been popping up on national news too as of late. I’m looking to talk to him tomorrow evening. Luckily, I was able to make an appointment but it was no small feat. I had to bribe him to high hell to get him to speak with me.”

“Hm. Sounds familiar.” You mumbled.

Chan’s eyes widened, then he looked back to you to ask for permission. You gave him a nod.

“It seems like we’re here for a common purpose my friend.” The prince leaned in to bridge the gap between them, his hand notably reaching to rest on the other man’s thigh below the table’s surface. “We’re seeking similar information and I think we might be speaking of the same informant.”

“But your Highness, isn’t it dangerous it you to do something like this?”

“Not when I’ve got her around.” Chan threw a sly grin to you across the table. “I’m well protected. And you? Where’s your detail?”

“I’m afraid that I’m out here alone. Like I said, when you’re as low in the ranks as I am...”

“What? That’s terrible!! They aren’t even protecting their own? Bee!!”

“Yes, your Highness?” You already knew where this was going.

“Let’s bring Minho along with us tomorrow! We know that there’s safety in numbers--”

“Your Highness, in case you haven’t noticed, our hands are already a bit full...”

“I can fend for myself.” Lee Minho suddenly piped. “Travelling alone, I’ve picked up a few things about protecting myself. You don’t have to protect me, but, I appreciate the offer.”

“Nonsense! You should come with us! I would feel more comfortable if you did rather than went by yourself.”

Lee Minho gave the royal a smile in his thanks, it was pure and a little adorable you had considered...but that was likely the champagne going to your head.

“Really? I appreciate it, your Highness.”

While you were distanced, you nearly could’ve sworn that the prince had squeezed the other’s leg reassuringly, and you were willing to bet he had rubbed it with his thumb too just as he had done to you.

After long, the waitress returned with Lee Minho’s drink, and the two men chatted like old college buddies while you slipped away at your drink in an attempt to make it last as long as you could. While Chan did try to engage you in conversation, it would never last for long until he would become puppy-eyed over the stranger again. In the end, you wondered if the tipsy prince would’ve also confessed to this man if he had one too many drinks.

The table bumped with their jovial and restless legs, and you could only imagine what wandering hands sought to discover.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The hotel was quiet save for the click of heels on the marble floors from ladies who had just gotten off the steamboat and clung to their husbands in their drunken stupor. They cackled in the empty and golden lobby, then pressed hasty kisses into the stuttering mouths of their husbands who’s mouths then smeared with hot pick lipstick. Chan giggled at the sight while he tripped over his own feet too.

“Ahhhh. Being in love is so cute.” He adored them once you had entered the elevator.

“You’re not going to throw up on me, are you?”

The prince hiccupped, then shook his head. “Unlike you I know how to hold my liquor. I’m fine. Just a bit sleepy I think. Must be the jet lag.”

The tones for each floor beeped in the compartment, and Chan lulled his head back and forth.

“So. Lee Minho huh?” You said, not even able to help yourself. The alcohol had brought you a bit of an edge...so you thought.

“Lee. Minho.” He sighed out dreamily. “What do you think of him?”

“I think I can’t trust anyone as long as I haven’t ran at least three background checks on them.”

“Awww, Bee, you’re so thoughtful of me.”

In the empty hallway, the prince with squinting eyes leaned against the doorframe to the royal suite, reaching out to brush up against your blouse once more. You let him, excusing his drunken state. After he did so, his eyes hazed over with something much different, while he looked exhausted, it was laced with something else: something much more longing.

“Bee...fuck, I really want to kiss you again.”

“Hm. That’s ripe coming from you who was just viciously flirting with Lee Minho.”

You could see his head spinning in his dilated pupils. “What?”

The door clicked open and you less than gracefully lead the prince through the dark to your shared bedroom.

“B-Bee, what are you talking about?”

You scoffed, “I’m not blind, you know.”

“A-are you...jealous?”

“W-what? Fuck no. I’m just...you can’t just...toss people around thinking that they’ll all bend to you.”

Chan sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed at his temples when you turned one of the lamps on.

“I-I was doing that?”

You tore a pillow from the bed as well as the throw blanket at the end. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Good evening, your Highness.”

“Wait! Bee!” The young prince stumbled after you, stubbing his toe against the bedpost in the process. “Ah-FUCK!” He grunted.

“What?” You growled back to him, half shrouded in the darkness of the suite living room.

The royal stumbled out, eyes blank and backlit from the bedroom. While you couldn’t see him fully, you later could assume that there was something in him terribly torn and ripped in that moment that made little sense to him, as it did to you to.

Arms reached out, bodies softly illuminated by the lights of the city, and the prince leaned himself fully into you, pressing bitter tasting lips to yours with a heat and desire that only seemed amplified the breather he had gotten. While he tasted of lime and grapefruits, with a twinge of alcohol. He was just as addictive as any vice. You wanted to feel him. As infuriating as he was, and oblivious, your abhorrence to him was just as strong as your attraction.

“Mm, Bee--” He moaned directly into your mouth while shuffling both of you back to the bedroom.

The prince’s trembling breath floated from his mouth to yours where he used both of his large hands to pull your face closer to his. You knew that in some way, there must have been something ingenuine about the whole scenario, but you didn’t care too much, not when kissing him felt like something. Maybe he had kissed you out of pity, or because he really had wanted to kiss you. You broke for seconds before both of your tangled limbs hit the bed.

“Before...you said that you wouldn’t kiss me.”

“I didn’t make any promises...but, how come...you said that you wouldn’t hesitate...? But you kissed ba--”

You silenced the prince’s words with your own heated kisses that made little sense, only that kissing him as such felt good. You straddled the man while his hungry fingers traced all the way down your back. The prince’s hips sunk into the cushiony mattress, and you screwed him down even harder into it with your own heated hips grinding into him with as much pressure as you could muster.

“This is what you want, right?” You pulled at his lip with your teeth to hear him groan from it.

“Is it...what you want?” Chan got out between more kisses.

You could blame it on loneliness or lack of touch all that you wanted, but it wasn’t even close.

“Wait. Wait.” Chan suddenly interjected.

“What? What is it?”

The prince looked up at you, that haze in his eyes now fading to something much different that wasn’t covered in the lust that he held before.

“Bee...I-I don’t know if I want it to happen this way. It feels...it’s not...”

“Not what?”

He brushed his hand upward now to caress your face, lingering on the side of the peach fuzz on your cheek. “You deserve better than whatever the hell this is.”

“Oh, so when I finally want to fuck you, you’re saying it isn’t right?”

“I’m saying, I’m drunk, it’s late, clearly there’s something that’s upsetting you, and I want to know what it is before we do anything else. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

It might’ve been Lee fucking Minho, or it might’ve been something else much stickier for you to admit, but seeing the prince like this, it was too much. He was gorgeous under you, practically angelic looking.

“I-I’m...complicating things.” You whispered out, and the prince softened even further.

“That’s what it is? Bee, I told that you don’t have to worry about--”

“--Yes. Yes I do...your Highness. I-I can’t feel...”

“Bee--let’s just talk about--”

The prince might’ve said more, but his words faded into murmurs once you closed his door behind you, then crawled onto the couch in Jeongin and Seungmin’s room, locking their door too.

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

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