#the admiral puts the team together and breaks down in the middle because who the fuck would ever wrote such mail?

[pollyna]

Iceman asks for the best, six or seven of them, not much more. He doesn't need much more. In moments like this, he hates himself more than he hates the job he's doing but he knows that giving them to Maverick will mean they'll get back. He doesn't trust anybody else to take the kids home, because he knows nobody would care as much.

He asks for a small group and what he gets back is twelve names and COs praying for him to take them away from them because they are the best of the best but they're expendable. Halo and Omaha's CO write these pilots are likes fungus in October, if you lose a patch you can be sure you'll find the next in a couple of steps. The murderous feelings are all bubbling in his chest and he would like to punch the fucker in the face and ruin his career but he can already feel his throat closing on itself, he needs to breathe because the work to do is a lot and he doesn't have the time to wallow. But he will take the matter into his hands, once he sorted everything out.

He adds a name after another, six becoming eight and then twelve. Bradley is there too and that makes his eyes wet to the point he has to open a window because he can barely think now. He puts Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell on the top of the list and sends out the mail to Cain and Hondo. Then he sits and stares at twelve photos and twelve people so different and so young and expendable. 

Two hours later Hondo is calling because Maverick did it again and Iceman has to take a moment to remember himself Mav is surely okay because it's what he does and who he is, prints an eight-page long debrief and signs it. Its title is The North Island detachment.

[alreadyjackbestfriend]

Can you write something about Jack having severe writers block, and the reader does something nice to get his mind off of it? 

writer´s block

A/N: heeyy, thank you for your request <3 sorry for taking so long, hope you like it!

***

Jack has been trying, really trying to write past the three verses he's accomplished in the last few days, none of them bearing any relation to the other.

He had put out his latest album a few months ago, and now found himself on a tour break, so there was really no rush, but he had never gone so long without writing something, the last time he had been able to finish something worthy of a song was 2 months ago... exactly the last night that he saw you.

As he ran his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his clouded mind, his cell phone vibrated on the desk. Jack looked at the screen, his heart skipped a beat as a smile appeared on his face, his cheeks filled with tender warmth, all of that just by reading your name.

“hi, gorgeous” he said immediately after accepting the call.

“hey, Jack” your sweet voice made him smile even more if that was possible, even causing his cheeks to hurt a little.

“to what do I owe the pleasure of you calling me?”

you and jack were almost new to each other, only a couple of months of knowing each other; long talks, a lot of flirting and a couple of kisses, but nothing official. but he was so drawn to you, you could put a smile on his face just by reading your name, you could make his heart race just by hearing your voice.

“a little birdie told me that you’ve been really stressed”

he chuckled, though it seemed more like a sigh. just a few days ago the new year had started and the whole team had at least a few weeks of vacation, so the only one who knew about his condition was urban, who was the only one who had seen him in the last few days locked in his home studio.

“that little birdie is gonna get his ass kicked”

He heard you gasp, “why?! he just wanted to help, and so do I”

“oh, so it’s a “he””

“fuck you jack, you know it was urban”

He laughed out loud, throwing his head back. he probably hadn't laughed since New Year's Eve. he couldn't see you, but you smiled hugely, you knew what you said wasn't that funny, so his laugh meant only one thing: he really liked you.

“so, do you have an hour for me?” you asked, and he raised a brow.

“mmm let me see…” he teased, and he heard you sigh, making him laugh again, “you know I always have time for you”

"That's great, because otherwise I would have to go back home, and it would be very disappointing" you said, behind him. Jack turned around in surprise, and saw you smile with the phone still attached to your ear, but you quickly put it down and ended the call.

"how...?" he asked, surprised.

"The little birdie…" you replied, feeling brave enough to sit on his lap, and he rolled his eyes with a smile on his face.

"mmm, now that I think about it, I guess I won't kick the birdie's ass anymore"

you laughed out loud, while he admired you. once you stopped laughing, you looked back at him, your faces extremely close. he put his hand on your chin, and with a short movement he brought your lips together. You heard a contented sound escape his throat and you smiled in the middle of the kiss, but you stopped having control of the situation once Jack put his hand on your thigh, making you sigh, you could feel the warmth of his skin even through your clothes.

"You're amazing", he said, making you smile again, "I can already feel the verses floating in my mind"

you giggled at his words, "I'm very flattered, but my main mission was to be able to distract you a bit"

"Oh, you are," Jack replied, trying to kiss you again, but you pulled away, causing his lips to pout and his eyebrows to draw together in disappointment.

"I have something for you" you said, giving him a little peck and taking his hand, both of you went up to the first floor, since the home studio was in the basement, and you led Jack towards the living room

Urban had let you in, and left right after, leaving the place at your disposal. It didn't take long, since a large part of everything you’ll need you had prepared at home. Urban had left the light dim, just as you asked, you just had to put a couple of candles in some places, and then put a tablecloth above the carpet, next to the basket, and then you emptied it, filling the tablecloth with snacks, and a bottle of a fruit liqueur.

It was an indoor picnic, obviously it would have been better to do it in the backyard, but it was impossible, unless the goal was to freeze to death, so you improvised something similar. In addition to the candles, Jack had a fireplace, which was perfect for the occasion.

You knew that it was a much more romantic setting than what you and Jack had shared before, which were usually conversations and kisses in hidden places at some parties, so you were nervous, but you hoped that Jack would take it well.

You watched him carefully while he looked at what you had prepared for him, and after a few seconds that felt like hours, he got you close to him, giving you a tender kiss.

"I love it, thank you"

you sighed with relief, giving him a smile.

"Why the sigh?" he asked curiously, sitting on the tablecloth, copying your movements. you thought for a moment about what to say.

"I was nervous" you decided to admit.

"why?" he replied, truly confused.

"I didn't know if..." you cleared your throat, "maybe this was too much? I know we're not a couple and..." in the middle of your chatter, you saw him smile, "what?"

"nothing" he said, still smiling.

"jack" you said, looking at him seriously.

"I was just thinking how cute you are" he said, and you blushed, making him smile even more, "this is perfect, y/n, you didn't have to be nervous"

"I'm glad you liked it" you said sincerely.

Jack didn't say anything else, he just approached your lips again, and what started as a tender kiss escalated quickly, leaving you lying on the ground, with Jack on top of you. between the heat of the fireplace and jack's body, you began to feel that the heat consumed you.

"jack, we haven't even touched the food" you said, between kisses

"I'm not hungry"

"And I only asked for an hour of your time," you said, raising an eyebrow. he stopped kissing you and looked at you smirking.

"Let's make it five" he replied, kissing you again.

"Jack!" you said, between his lips and your laughter.

"I'm going to write a lot of songs after this anyway"

[dude-why-3]

Who painted the sky?

Chapter 16: Bear Alarms

The introduction games go smoothly, a bit boring if anything. The children seem to be a bit out of it, not that interested in the name shooting game, letting Annie easily win– although she doesn’t remember that many names at the end of the game. She remembers Jane being the girl slightly shorter than her, with freckles on her nose and short black hair, and Frank being the boy with the crooked nose and sickly pale complexion. She thinks the brunette boy always by his side is Novac, but she's not very sure. Jane seems to have a group of admirers always gathering around her, but she'd be lying if she said she remembers any of their names. Annie looks at her with a look that she wants to see as pride, his smile broad and kind, and his eyes shining behind the glass of his spectacles. He pats her shoulder in a manner that only reinforces her belief, his expression kind. 

“We should also choose a name for our team today,” Armin tells them all after a short break, as the campers take their seats on the chairs in their pink room. 

This time, suggestions fly around the room, one more random and unexpected than the other, each special in some unexpected way, all sounding intriguing at least. They end up voting, and Jumpy Beans ends up winning– although Annie liked The Ninja Dolphins better– and their poster ends up being their name in the middle of the paper, and some weird shapes that should technically resemble beans in the corners.

And then they bring out the yarn– and the kids’ excitement dims noticeably, which brings Annie’s spirits down. She’s been looking forward to this since last night. Not that a few whines would be enough to ruin her excitement, but it sure wasn’t a great start.

Annie sits on the floor at the very front of the semicircle they have created, so that everyone could see what she was doing, and Armin follows suit, sitting next to her. One by one, the kids follow their lead and sit on the floor too. The two volunteers start dividing the yarn in fifteen little bouquets, and spread them around the room. The kids reluctantly take them in their hands.

Annie starts explaining how the braiding process works, and Armin exemplifies on his future bracelet so it’d be easier to understand. Slowly, idly, the children follow their instructions, putting string over string. 

“You got the wrong string there,” Annie points to the blonde boy sitting across from her. The boy rolls his eyes so hard Annie wonders if they could go any further, and her smile drops, but she forces it back on when she feels a pair of eyes watching her carefully. She carries on with her explanation, and points their mistakes out at first, but she soon stops– not because they’re getting any better at it, but because she can see the roll of their eyes and hear their scoffs, and their message is loud and clear– they’d rather do anything else but this. They couldn’t care less.

Which is soon reinforced when the activity is over and the kids leave for dinner, abandoning their unfinished bracelets around the room. 

Annie sighs as she sits up, slowly bending down to pick up the unfinished bracelets from around the room. Armin soon joins her, picking bracelets up and collecting them in his palm. 

Annie presses her lips together and slumbers into a chair, letting a sigh out. She leans back into the chair and tilts her head up at the ceiling, staring at the light bulb until her vision turns white, then closes her eyes. A moment later, she hears the rustle of a chair as Armin sits next to her.

“They didn’t mean to be rude,” comes Armin’s leveled voice.

Annie allows her face to relax. “It doesn’t matter,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. 

“It matters to you.”

Annie snaps her eyes open and tilts her head towards him, finding his eyes already on her, studying her features intently. She holds his gaze for a moment, her lips still pressed together. There’s something in his eyes she doesn’t quite like, he’s looking at her with a sort of pity she wouldn’t have caught had she not seen it before, and yet she finds that she hates nothing more than seeing it in his eyes. 

She averts her gaze and shrugs again, tilting her head back at the ceiling. “It’s whatever,” she mutters. 

Armin hums lightly, and then his chair creeks slightly, and his shoulder touches hers.

After a moment, he says, “We should really clean this place.”

Annie opens her eyes and tilts her head to face him, finding him looking up at the ceiling with furrowed brows. Annie looks back up as well, scanning the ceiling that probably used to be white, now an old yellow color. The paint was starting to fall in some spots.

“We should,” she agrees. “Maybe paint it too.”

“Yeah, we could get rid of this hideous color.”

“The pink?”

“Mhmm.”

“I've seen worse,” she shrugs.

Armin snaps his head towards hers, his eyes narrowing even more. “Really?” 

Annie scoffs. “Yeah. At least there’s no mold.”

He returns the scoff and turns back to the ceiling. “I doubt.”

Annie rolls her eyes. She stands up and pats his arm, beckoning him to stand. “Let's go have dinner.”

~~~

Annie decides to call it a night after Hitch drags her on the dance floor for a very unchoreographed Meneaito. She bids the kids goodnight and leaves the big house, tightening her sweater around her as she makes her way to her room. The night has long settled, the cold unexpected. 

Suddenly, her phone pings. She fishes it out of her pocket and checks it, her eyes widening and breath quickening when she sees the notification.

Caution, it reads, bears around.

Annie fastens her step. She fists the phone in her hand, looks around herself cautiously – not that she sees much through the dark. She can barely make out the shape of the Big House in front of her, a faint light turned on somewhere on the second floor. 

And then she hears it– the rustle. The sound of steps against the pavement, loud and calculated. Her breath stuck in her throat. That was it. She'll get caught by bears on some random Wednesday night and meet her end. She will become bear food. She can only hope her father won’t be too heartbroken. 

The steps only seem to be getting closer. Annie whips her head back briefly, and notices a tall figure approaching slowly. Her eyes widen, her heart threatens to jump out of her chest– and then she breaks into a sprint, running faster than she thought she could. She soon meets the door, and hurries to close it behind herself, pushing herself against it to catch her breath.

Curiosity takes over her then– she's never seen a bear before. She slowly turns around, locks the door, and looks through its glass intently, trying to make out the bear through the dark.

But as the form gets closer, she starts making out a human body, a jacket, the shape of some glasses. Disappointment starts building up in her chest– that is most definitely not a bear. She squints her eyes through the glass, trying to make out who the person carrying a box around at this hour could be. 

He walks into the door face first, almost dropping to his knees but managing to regain his balance and catching the box, startling Annie, who takes several steps back now.

Upon realizing who it is, and the fact that she’s locked him outside, she hurries to open the door, her heart still racing madly. 

"Armin," she acknowledges as he steps in, still looking quite shaken. "What are you doing?"

"Me?" he retorts as he walks in. "What are you doing?” He straightens his glasses on his nose. “You saw me and locked the door?" 

The redness of his face is very obvious, even in the barely lit lobby, his eyes somehow filled with embarrassment, surprise and a sort of quiet anger.

Annie can feel her face heat up as she follows him up the stairs. "I thought you were a bear!"

"A bear?" Armin's laugh is strident, echoing in the large stairwell. "Why would you think I was a bear?"

Annie’s voice is barely above a whisper, "There was a bear alert."

Annie unlocks her door and stands before it for a while, not quite wanting to go to sleep just yet. She turns around, looking at Armin, who's still trying to find his keys. 

They reach their floor, Annie turns the lights on so they can see where they’re going. Armin sets the box down next to his door and starts fiddling for his keys.

"What's in the box?"

"A telescope," he says, fitting the key in at last. He turns it in. Annie’s eyebrows draw together.  "The sky is rather clear tonight," Armin says with a shrug. "I thought I could watch the stars or something. Wanna join?"

"Sure," she smiles.

Sitting in the chair in the corner of the balcony, with a blanket draped over her shoulders, Annie watches Armin set up the telescope. The sky is, indeed, clear, and so many stars are out that Annie wonders if they even need a telescope

“Do you have any constellations in mind?” he asks.

Annie thinks for a second, then she shrugs. “Not really.”

He turns around and smiles at her, his eyes scanning hers. “Not one?”

A smile pulls at her lips. “I suppose I’d like to see the Ursa Major.”

Armin scoffs slightly, and beckons her to join him. He makes some final adjustments to the telescope, turns it upwards, and looks through the lense for a second, his brows furrowed as if he was deep in thought. 

Then, he turns to Annie and gestures for her to come closer. She bends slightly to look through herself, aligning her eyes with the lense. And, sure enough, there it is– Ursa Major, throning the sky. 

Annie looks back at Armin for a second, a smile adorning her face in the most beautiful of ways, her eyes sparkling brightly, and he finds it hard to breathe in that moment, his words stuck in his throat. She turns back towards the telescope, and Armin gazes up, his eyes scanning the starry sky. Something shines brighter then, and his eye twinkles.

“Jupiter is out tonight.”

Annie straightens her back and faces him again. “Is it?”

He nods sheepishly, and positions the telescope so it point towards it. Gently, he guides Annie to look through again, his hands ghosting over the small of her back. 

She hums lightly once she catches sight of it, leaning a bit forward to see better. She admires the blue-ish round shape of the planet, tries to make out the white spot, and-

“This would be a pretty good moment for a kiss,” comes Armin’s voice, tickling her ear, a lot closer than she would have anticipated. 

Blood rushes to her face as she turns to face him, and is not surprised when she finds his face as red as a tomato, despite how confident his voice sounded only seconds ago. His eyes dart around until they settle back on hers, piercing through her very soul. Annie bites back a remark, unable to hold his gaze as his eyes unravel all her secrets, feeling her face heat up even more as the seconds pass, painfully slow. 

“Kiss me then,” she says in such a quiet voice, it takes a moment for Armin to register the words. 

A smile pulls on his lips, his eyes momentarily darting to her lips before returning to her eyes. “Are you sure about this?”

Annie slowly nods, her hands hesitantly settling on his chest. His own hands find her face, cupping her cheeks, his thumb gently brushing over her skin. He brings her face closer to his, his breath tickling her skin, he’s so close to her, yet so unbearably far. Annie closes her eyes in anticipation, waiting. 

She hears his low chuckle, and then he places a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You’re so nervous, it’s adorable,” he says, and she hears the smile in his voice.

Annie opens her eyes, finding him just as close. “That’s what you had in mind?” she asks, hating the way her voice sounds almost disappointed, as if she were waiting for more. 

He gently swipes his thumb across her cheek, leaving a burning path on her skin.

“Not quite.” 

And more she gets.

Annie barely has time to narrow her eyes when he tilts her face up slightly and captures her lips with his own, his eyes staring into her wide ones until she finds it in herself to close them. 

It starts off gentle, sweet, his lips like honey on her own, the kiss soft and slow. When he draws back, she finds herself leaning in for more, the urgency of that second kiss taking even her aback. But he soon returns it, one of his hands finding its way to the small of her back, firmly pressing against her, bringing her closer, so impossibly close. His other hand goes to her nape, his thumb brushing against her ear sending shivers down her spine, and he gently tilts her head up to deepen the kiss, a sigh escaping Annie’s lips at the sudden change. The blanket falls off her shoulders then, meeting the ground with a deaf thud– not that she needed it anymore, his warmth is more than enough. She feels him smile against her lips. Her own fingers tangle in his soft hair, his fingers drawing steady patterns over the fabric of her blouse. They part for air once more, and just as soon their lips find each other again. He nudges her lower lip as if asking for permission, and what started off as slow and gentle soon turns more urgent, hungry even. 

Armin takes a step back, bringing her with him, and she soon feels her back pressed against the cold wall. In the midst of their blind showcase, with his hands burning through her skin and his hair between her fingers, with their lips dancing together in an exchange of something they could never share, she realizes the gravity of what they’re doing, the cruelty of a lie taken too far. 

And then her phone rings. 

Armin is the first one to break away. He steps away, depriving her of his warmth, and hands her her phone, smiling slightly, his cheeks dusted with pink. Annie smiles sheepishly, taking the damned phone from his hand. Armin picks up the blanket and folds it neatly, placing it on the chair, before busying himself with the telescope. She hastily checks the time, and it makes sense then, that her father would call at this hour– they do usually talk in the evening. Taking a deep breath in, she picks up.

And is immediately bombarded with questions.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for ten whole minutes,” comes his voice from the other end of the phone, harsh and loud. He must have gotten annoyed by now. “What are you up to?”

Annie closes her eyes momentarily, pinching the bridge of her nose, and leans her back against the wall. 

“Sorry,” she says, “I’ve been a bit caught up.”

“Doing what? It’s not like you're working a real–”

“This group is just more difficult,” she cuts him off. “Getting their attention is harder, so I need to work harder.”

There’s silence for a second, and she can almost see her father bite back a remark. “You’re right,” he finally says. “You did mention it before.” Then, after a pause, “How was today, Annie?”

So, she tells him, and he listens, and he doesn’t say much about it. She leaves out the kissing Armin part– who’s now sat on his chair and taken his own phone out, rapidly typing. He shoots her a curious look, which morphes into a smile, and she tries to return it as best as she can, her face still warming up, and she loses her train of thought then. So, she clears her throat, and instead asks her father about his day and his health.

“Is he any better?” Armin asks once Annie ends the call. 

“Oh, he’s much better, he’s becoming his moody self again,” she says, shaking her head briefly. “He hired someone to help him around the house, and his health is improving.”

Armin sits up from his chair and steps towards her. “That’s good news,” he says.

She nods briefly, then looks up at him, her eyes wandering around his face and stopping for a second on his lips before looking up and locking eyes with him, her complexion once again warming up. “Can we get back to what we were doing before?”

[reimagine7]

First Crush

The words in italic means that the characters will be speaking English. If not, it means it’s Spanish.

“No, esto no es mi pedido.” “Lady, I’m sorry. But I don’t understand. No understando.” I laughed. It’s funny how some people think that changing the accent will make people who don’t speak English understand what they are saying. The girl in front of me, who was trying to do her order sighed, probably angry with the situation so I tried to intervene.

“This is not what she ordered, her order was a Grande Iced Caramel Macchiato, with Oatmilk and without Caramel drizzle. And a chocolate croissant. You put extra drizzle and added Cinnamon powder, and I’m sure this is an almond croissant” “Right, sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll fix it right up.” The waitress went back to the machines making another drink for the girl. 

I looked at her and she had a shy smile on, looking back at me. “Thanks.” “It's nothing.” “It is, I’m thirty minutes here and she got my order wrong twice. I thought I would end up losing my flight.” “Now you can eat without a rush.” “Alexia!” 

The girl went and grabbed her order, but before she came back they called my name as well, so I went to grab mine. We got out of the store and started walking toward the gates. 

“Thanks again, Y/n?” “Yeah, that’s my name.” We started walking in the same direction, until I spoke. “Sorry, but I have to ask. What a girl like you who doesn't speak English is doing in a country that doesn’t speak spanish?” “Playing football. My team is here with me, but I wanted a drink and they were sleeping near the gate. So I came alone. You are not from Spain, right? Your Spanish is good, but there is a different accent.” “No, I’m English. But my mom is Spanish.” “Where are you going?” “I’m visiting my grandparents in Spain. My flight is at gate 7.” “Really? Mine too.” “Come on then.”

We kept talking for a while, waiting to board and then we found out we were also sitting next to each other on the plane. I found out we were both the same age, 15. I talked with her about my dream of becoming a sport physiotherapist and she talked about how she wanted to keep playing football and enter a professional team. A few hours later the plane landed so we got ready to say our goodbyes. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” “Tomorrow is my grandpa birthday. So I’ll be at his house.” She frowned at that and started picking her bags. “But on Wednesday or Thursday, I’ll be free.” She smiled at that. “I’ll text you, we could meet up.” “I’ll be waiting. Bye Alex.” I hugged her and got out of the baggage claim, meeting my grandparents outside.

At night Alexia texted me talking about how she was tired and saying that it was my thought. We kept talking until late and we both ended up sleeping in the middle of the conversation. We agreed to meet again during the week. She was on a school break so she was free after her soccer practice.

“This place is incredible.” I said admiring the place. “Is it, isn’t it?” “How do you find out about it?” “My dad brought me here one day after a bad game. And since then it has become our favorite place.” “This must be nice. And he supports you with football?” “He does, my family is a basketball-playing family, but since I started playing football he goes to all the games he can and brings me to watch a lot of Barcelona games.” “This is awesome. And one day he’ll be going to Camp Nou to watch you play.” “That’s the dream. I just don’t know if it will happen.” “I know it will.” “You never watch me play, how can you be sure?” “Because you look like the kind of girl who fights for her dreams. So I’m sure you’ll get there.” “Thanks. And just so you know, so do you. And who knows maybe we can be there together.” “Calm down Alex. I still have a few years till that.” “But it is the dream.” “It’s the dream… But you’ll have to get way better at English, you know that right?” She laughed and slapped my arm. “I’m working on it. I’m pretty sure that the waitress was just mocking me, how can she not understand ‘no caramelo’ is simple.” “If you say so.” 

We spend the rest of the week hanging out with each other. She took me to one of her practices and we talked more about each other's families. I showed her my grandpa’s restaurant and it turned out she had already gone there once. And then I have to go back home.

“So, we can keep texting. And when you come to visit your grandparents we can meet up.” “Yeah, and if some day you decided to visit London, let me know.” “I will. Bye Y/n/n” “Bye Alex." We hugged a little longer than normal and said our goodbyes. 

We kept talking for a whole year, with promises to see each other again. But then life happened. Her athlete life became more complicated, I was studying hard to enter college. And my grandparents passed away, so I no longer went to visit Spain. So with time our texts become less and less frequent. Until one day it stopped. 

I follow my dreams. I became a sport physiotherapist, currently working at West Ham. She achieved her dreams. Everyone knows who Alexia Putellas is. What made it harder to forget her, to forget my first crush.

Alexia’s pov

“Come on Alexia, stand up. Just one more.” “If you say ‘one more’, one more time I will kill you.” I said, sending a look at Jenni. We were on our last exercise and Jenni was ‘motivating’ us. She got hurt during practice and wasn't participating in conditioning. “Fine, but you’ll have to stand up sometime. We agreed to hang out today and you’ll be the driver.” “Whatever.” I complained. “Come on, give her a break. Alexia never gets to enjoy the party, what if she decides she wants to hook up with some girl and not drive us home?” Pina said, offering me a hand and helping me stand up.

“That’s because she never hooks up.” Jenni answered, making Pina look confused. “What do you mean? Why?” “Don’t know, she must be waiting for the enchanted princess.” Jenni said, rolling her eyes. “Is that jealousy Jenni? Or envious because she didn’t want to date you?” Some of the girls mock Jenni, making her sneeze water at them.

“Okay, enough talking about my love life.” “Or the lack of it.” Jenny mock. “Really? I’m fine being the driver for tonight. Just let me know when to pick you up and I’ll be there.

I left the girls at the gym and went to the locker room. Don’t get me wrong, it is not that I don’t like hooking up or dating girls. I do. It’s just that any girl seems like the right one for me. I don’t know why. Okay, maybe I know. No one is her. I try not to compare girls with her, but it just happens and there is not much I can do. Who knew that a first crush could last so long. 

I went home and got changed. A few minutes later I received a text saying that we would have to go to the practice tomorrow, just so we could do some evaluation and so we could meet the new member of the technical committee. The girls then decided to meet at Pina’s house and party there, so we could be at least alive for tomorrow. 

I picked a few of the girls and we went to Pina’s house. Not much after they started to drink and the chaos began. This is what normal partying looks like with these girls. I danced a little, had fun, but there is only much you can do without getting drunk and having to be the responsible one for the night. 

“I’m seriously she is so hot. I don't know why she didn’t come sooner. I think it was about time that the old guy walked away.” Drunk Jenni spoke.  “Who are you talking about?” Irene asked. “The new physiotherapist. I got to meet her today after practice. She is HOT. It even made getting hurt worth it.” I rolled my eyes, Jenni is always trying to hook up with every woman she thinks is good looking.

“I bet 20 bucks, she will not be interested in you.” “Oh! I bet 30 that Jenni can’t make her agree on going on a date.” The girls started to make bets. “Hey! Where is the belief in me? Of course I can. I’m hot.” Jenni complained. “Right. Just like the last doctor that came in. What was her name again? Julia?” We all laughed. “Hey, she was married. But the physio doesn’t use a ring, so I have a chance. And I’ll earn all your money, prepare your wallets.”

The night ended and some of the girls decided to sleepover, I took some back home and when I finally arrived at my house, I crashed.

The next day I was the first one at the locker room, and one by one the girls started to arrive. Most of them complaining about the early hours or about the hangover. If not both. Coach soon arrived along with the rest of the technical committee. I don’t pay much attention to them. Until I heard them saying.

“Well, this is the new physiotherapist, Y/n Y/l/n. You all will have the chance to meet her later on, as she will be doing the evaluation on everyone this afternoon. So, you are all free to go eat something and please come back on your time on the schedule.

Coach dismissed us and started talking with Y/n. I couldn’t take my eyes out of her. We met again after all this time, and at this club, where we said we would be. She is taller and more beautiful than I remember. She looked back at me and smiled. She kept glancing back at me and trying to hear what Coach was telling her. I don’t know how much time I kept looking at her, but then Coach walked away and she started coming in my direction. But I was pulled back from my trance by Jenni’s voice.

“She is coming, pay attention to the magic happening. Maybe you can learn how…” But I interrupted her before she could make anything. “You will not even try to flirt with her.” “What? Ale, is just…” I look into her eyes. “I’m serious.” She backed off and I could feel everyone looking at me confused, but I didn’t care. Because when I look back I was looking at her eyes.

“Alex?”

[webtoon-thoughts]

Webtoon Recommendations

Number #1: UnOrdinary

This is one of my firsts and favorites, I absolutely ADORE it

Summary from Webtoons: Nobody paid much attention to John – just a normal teenager at a high school where the social elite happen to possess unthinkable powers and abilities. But John’s got a secret past that threatens to bring down the school’s whole social order – and much more. Fulfilling his destiny won’t be easy though, because there are battles, frenemies and deadly conspiracies around every corner.

Why I love it: The plot is compelling and John is extremely relatable, especially at his worst. Well, all the characters are all relatable in different aspects and also flawed. The story can be used as a parallel to our world and it also involves rebelling against the government + vigilantism. The story involves loss, the feeling of being powerless, friendship, enemies, regret, and it’s all put out beautifully.

BONUS/FAVORITE: The story easily could have gone terrible or become extremely controversial since it involves a world where everyone has special abilities, all at varying levels of power. Which once again, can be seen as a parallel to our world. And when you have a parallel to the real world, things can get heated fast.

Number #2: My Reason To Die

Like the misunderstood bad-boy trope? Like extreme emotions? Well this is perfect for you!

Summary from Webtoons: Ji-o’s luck runs out when she gets injured before the tryouts for the national taekwondo team. In the middle of facing what seems to be the biggest crisis of her life, she meets Gyeol, a mysterious boy who changes her life forever. He’s the definition of a bad boy with a good heart, and she finds herself unable to resist his charms. However, she might be playing with fire as he’s someone who’s involved with the wrong crowd. Is falling for Gyeol worth the risk?

Why I love it: Now this webtoon is beautiful. We see a blooming romance full of uncertainty and doubt, but then when Gyeol saves Ji-o it manages to break your heart and put it back together at the same time

Bonus/Favorite: Well I’m a sucker for romance and bad boys…buttt I also adore when there’s uncertainty and it seems like they won’t make it. Also I love sad things, and this is a great balance of the two.

Number #3: Death : Rescheduled

Like a story with attractive characters trying to change the world, all with sad backstories? Well you’re in luck! Snailords has blessed us with their gorgeous art and storylines. Also there’s our lovely Emai, who just loves violence.

Summary from Webtoons: Yes, you get one kill a year. But you can also get murdered for any reason, at all! In one district, sex and romance are also illegal. Kissed someone? Dead. Made coffee with the wrong amount of sugar? Extra dead. I’m done. We’re fixing this.

Why I love it: Well who doesn’t love a good dystopia? The art is beautiful and the characters have compelling personalities which are all unique. And now another sentence on how incredible each characters individual personality is ( clap here ).

Bonus/ Favorite: Honestly I admire and adore Snailords to the end of the world. Anything snailords related, I’d die for. Leading to our next webtoon…

Number #4: Freaking Romance

Oh Freaking Romance my beloved… My live, laugh, love, and life. This was probably the webtoon that impacted me the most. It’s supernatural, cute, romance, and has its melancholy parts.

Summary from Webtoons: A sexy supernatural story about being out on your own, finding your dream apartment and discovering that your new place is haunted by a handsome spectral stranger from another dimension. Sure, HE can’t see you and YOU can’t touch him, but who said every relationship starts out perfectly?

Why I love it: Can I look at the words romance or freaking without thinking of this webtoon? Nope. This webtoon is so touching and absolutely beautiful. You can practically feel the emotions as if they are your own. And once again, another sentence of admiration about Snailords. (Please someone fill the freaking romance shaped hole in my heart…)

YOU WILL NEED DAILY PASS

Bonus/Favorite: This webtoon also holds a special place in my heart from nostalgia, too. I started reading at the start of my Webtoons obsession, and never ever forgot it. This will never change. Feel free to send me the physical copy of it. (Wait don’t find my address)

Number #5: Wished you were dead

Well we can’t have pure romance! Also this webtoon currently is my life, ever since a friend recommended it.

Summary from Webtoons: King Karloi of Croisen finds himself at odds with his position in life. His wife’s father, Duke Deluah, is angling for the throne, and as an outsider to the family, Karloi fears for his position. His frustrations have affected his marriage, though he finds himself questioning his cold approach to his wife, Evonne. He may no longer recognize her, but Evonne saved his life long ago, and was his first love. This is but one of many secrets Evonne bears the weight of, having fallen victim to a curse that prevents her from telling any secrets...

why I love it: before you ask, this is hopefully not going to end in romance. I am an avid Karloi hater, and I’ll stay that way. Also, the art is stunning. With the art and storyline, you’ll find yourself screaming, crying, hitting the floor, etc. This Webtoon is incredibly put together, seeing how every moment will pull your heart in a new way. You’ll feel anger, sympathy, excitement, and everything I haven’t felt without Webtoons. The story also includes royalty and all that good stuff, which I adore.

Favorite/Bonus: Well this is a heart-wrenching story. And the regret in Karloi’s eyes will continue to be the fuel which pushes me everyday.

Number #6 (FINAL): Your Throne

And welcome to another one of my obsessions. Medea is quite literally life goals.

Summary from Webtoons: Tensions are brewing under the seemingly calm surface of the Vasilios Empire, a kingdom ruled by the Imperial Family and the Temple. Lady Medea Solon has lost her place next to Crown Prince Eros, but resolves to do whatever it will take to win back what's rightfully hers. Will she reclaim her throne?

Why I love it: in the beginning, we see a fight between Medea and Psyche, but they turn out to be great friends. the art is gorgeous, and the characters all are flawed in the most beautiful ways. Psyche and Medea balance each other out and make a great team, which I’m happy about. (They don’t need no men, just date each other) And Medea is ALWAYS PLOTTING. This Webtoon increases my IQ exponentially.

Bonus/Favorite: I feel like Medea plays the role of the necessary villain when she does questionable things for everyone’s sake. Without these, so many plans would have failed. You can’t expect to win without sacrifice, and this Webtoon shows that well.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

oh do tell us more about grima and eomer pre canon

Oh fun! I do love some Grima and Eomer head-canons <3 <3

I know I’ve touched on some of this stuff before in previous asks, so apologies for repeats. 

other head-canon/general thoughts stuff: here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here ... I think that's a good start. I may be a bit...single minded.

--

classic, of course: no matter what iteration of Grima I’m writing, no matter what canon-divergence is happening, I always head-canon that he spent time in Gondor working for a merchant when he was roughly eighteen into his early twenties. Enough time that he’s fluent in Westron, picked up Sindarin, and learned how to read/write (or became more at ease with it, if it’s a story where he semi-literate as a child). 

--

another classic: Eomer is a morning person and has been since he was a teenager. Making him an anomaly. I feel like this is a hilariously across-the-board headcanon for him. But I mean, look at the guy. He’s absolutely up at 5am doing god(s) know what. 

Grima: the gods may, but I don’t. 

--

For most iterations of them, I headcanon that they could function together in pre-war years in the sense that Theoden didn’t have to threaten them too much with the “get along shirt”. This is because Eomer, for all his fiestyness, his temper, his brashness, he does care about doing his job right. He cares about being a Good Thirds Marshal and Living Up to Expectations. Which means he’ll put up with the weird, slimy thing his uncle hired who seems spookily good at his job. 

Therefore, until Grima’s treason/oath-breaking became known to Eomer (circa 2 to 3 years before the war, so around 3016/3017), they could make-shift well enough. Did they particularly enjoy each other’s company? Not really. Could they make small talk about the weather and the state of the roads to pass the time? Yes. Could they solve problems together and work as a team? Begrudgingly, but yes. Eomer out of a sense of doing it for the greater good, Grima because he was told he had to and Theoden was like “behave, my weird little goth snake” and Grima was like ‘ugh I guess”. 

--

In some iterations, I do have it that Grima discovers—one long, cold, dark winter—that Eomer is very good at strategy games and positively jumps on this. Eomer will attest that he has never seen Grima so excited before, or since, that first discovery. So they play all sorts of table games (backgammon/tabula, chess, checkers, Middle Earth version of Go etc.) and card games (middle earth versions of hearts, bridge, whist, tarrochi, vingt-un etc.). 

They have been known to play spoof upon occasion but Grima is too good at the game so everyone always loses (Eomer suspects Grima cheats. Eomer isn’t wrong. But it’s the only game he cheats in, all the rest he’ll play (relatively) honestly).  

--

Again, this is for most iterations but I head-canon that Grima has a complicated relationship with Theoden but Theoden didn’t know this until post-possession/leechcraft. There’s a lot of love that became resentment and admiration that’s also pity and disgust. It’s a bit all over the place and Grima is just like “What does a person do with emotions? Run away from them.” 

Eomer: no. 

Grima: too late. 

--

I know I shoot myself in the foot with be not afraid on this one, but I really love leaving Grima’s views and feelings re: Eowyn more ambiguous. (Be not afraid is what happens when you write a future fic without having finished large portions of the bits that come before i.e., ROTK/Cycles of Song.) 

--

Ok, the thing I can’t settle on for pre-war head-canon is what the fuck went down between Grima and Gandalf. Their animosity is personal, petty, and spiteful. Gandalf especially—yes, we can have pity and empathy for Gollum but not Grima. One of these two ate babies and it’s not Grima (he just ate a hobbit, maybe, and that wasn’t until later). Don’t get me wrong, I’m Team Gollum too, I’m just saying Gandalf, my man, there’s a reason for this double standard. 

I do suspect Gandalf gives Gollum more slack because his whole descent is Ring related and not wholly of his own choice, unlike Grima who was like “fuckity bye” and joined Saruman. Granted, the power of Saruman’s voice is so rarely talked about with Grima which I think is interesting. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m wholly here for Grima making his choices 100% on his own without Saruman’s malign voice-influence (just his malign non-voice-related influence)--because that is the more interesting story. However, the reality of Saruman’s Voice and its power is still something that, when we engage with the text outside of head-canons and fics, we should take into consideration. 

From Voice of Saruman chapter: “Suddenly another voice spoke, low and melodious, its very sound an enchantment. Those who listened unwarily to that voice could seldom report the words they heard; and if they did, they wondered, for little power remained in them. Mostly they remembered only that it was a delight to hear the voice speaking, all that it said seemed wise and reasonable, and desire awoke in them by swift agreement to seem wise themselves. When others spoke they seemed harsh and uncouth by contrast; and if they gainsaid the voice, anger was kindled in the hearts of those under the spell. For some the spell lasted only while the voice spoke to them, and when it spoke to another they smiled, as men do who see through a juggler’s trick while others gape at it. 

For many the sound of the voice alone was enough to hold them enthralled; but for those whom it conquered the spell endured when they were far away, and ever they heard that soft voice whispering and urging them. But none were unmoved; none rejected its pleas and its commands without an effort of mind and will, so long as its master had control of it.” 

Sounds somewhat similar to the power of another object and another lord but who am I to suggest such things? 

-- 

 I head-canon that Grima very much likes being adjacent to power. Oh, that man loves, loves power. But he doesn’t want to be in a seat that could topple—so he prefers being the advisor to the king, not the king himself. Though, he has thought a lot about what would happen if he were king. From like day one as advisor/law-speaker/whatever fucking role it is he has at court, he was thinking about what he’d do if he had the crown. Despite his many self-esteem issues, he is very arrogant in some ways and firmly believes he is smarter than most people in a room. 

--

Based purely on the fact that Denethor invokes the Oath of Eorl with a red arrow (which was traditional, to be fair), alongside the verbal invoking of the oath, I suspect there was minimal written correspondence between Gondor and Rohan. What little that was written was generally handled by Theoden until Grima came along. 

Eomer can read. He’s just not good at it, or comfortable with it. Can he write? Good question. His name, probably. Maybe a few other things. But anytime Eomer does send written missives or letters (a rare thing indeed), he dictates it to whoever is around who can write well and this being Rohan means it’s like Grima and maybe two other people. 

Eomer asking Grima to take down a dictation is a hilarious mental image I have just given myself. After this event occurs, for the first time, Eomer is like “right, I need to procure myself someone who can write. Uncle, where did you find the snake man?” 

And Theoden is like, “No idea, he just appeared one day.” 

Eomer: not helpful. 

--

I do head-canon that there are plenty of people in Rohan who aren’t blond. Because if we’re going for realism, and not a film where you’re working in a visual medium so these sorts of distinctions are material, it makes no sense for everyone to be blond, let alone the same kind of blond. 

In my head, I flip-flop on Grima’s appearance from something adjacent to the films, to something that’s more likely based on the books—dark eyes, hair colour unknown (likely on the lighter brown into the blond side, though it’s never stated. His eyes, however, are described as being dark). 

I am a sucker for dark eyes, as anyone who has read any of my Downey stuff can attest. 

Regardless his appearance, I do like having his mother be foriegn. However, the flack he and his siblings get for it is less to do with appearance and more to do with them living in a tiny ass small town in the north and foreigners just generally being viewed with distrust. (It is noted in the books that the Rohirrim are super warry/untrusting of people from outside their land. Which isn’t xenophobic, or something adjacent to xenophobic, at all.) 

When Grima is in Edoras, there’s no like “oh man he’s clearly foreign, ew!” It’s more like “oh man, he’s an asshole. What’s his deal?” then later “oh man, he’s acting super sus, what’s up with that?” However, Grima is the way he is in part because of how he was treated growing up. 

--

I head-canon that Eomer has an ear for accents and can mimic Grima’s northern twang, whenever it comes out, and Grima finds this mortifying. Eomer’s fine with languages—he speaks Rohirrim and Westron of course, also Sindarin likely, but I head-canon that he has picked up a few skoltse words from Grima. The days when Grima is in a good mood, and they’re on tolerable speaking terms, he might teach Eomer a few. They’re all dirty curse words of course. 

Eomer: How do you say ‘fuck’?

Theoden: really, Eomer?

Eomer: oh-oh, cunt! 

Grima: that one’s fun to say. 

Theoden: p l e a s e. 

Eomer: asshole! Fucking asshole! 

Theoden: you are a prince of the house of Eorl and Grima, you’re my chief advisor and law-speaker of Eomarc. I expect better from you both for fuck’s sake. 

Grima cackles and walks off. 

--

Pre-war, and depending the iteration I have going of how much magic Grima actually has and how much was power of suggestion + potions and poisons, if it’s Old God territory then Eomer knows Grima can do little magics. These aren’t things Grima does publicly or really lets people know about, because he likes keeping them to himself as they’re more useful if they’re secret. However, Eomer’s seen him use them from time to time, mostly the fire-lighting one where Grima will pinch a candle wick and it catches alight, or he’ll start a fire without kindling. 

Grima has caught Eomer watching him do it and keeps waiting for Eomer to bring it up or spread whacky rumours and neither happens and Grima doesn’t understand. But that’s because he operates in a selfish capacity whereas Eomer doesn’t. 

--

Even pre-saruman, Grima was ambitious and ruthless and very much out for himself. That’s just a fundamental part of who he is. Saruman just capitalised on it. 

--

Oh, in every version Grima very much doubts Theodred’s ability to be a useful, efficient or strong king. A nice king, sure, but not what Rohan needs in this dark hour. It is also something Eomer comes to start seeing in his cousin as he got older. Theodred is about 40/41 in the books and Eomer 27, so he had many years of idolizing his cousin and seeing him as this golden, older brother who could do no wrong. But then as he got older, started taking up his duties as third marshal, he started seeing more of his cousin’s faults. Still loved him, of course, but the veil fell from his eyes and he definitely had moments when Grima made sly commentary of thinking “I hate it, but Grima’s not wrong”. Eomer would never betray his cousin or uncle, of course. Absofuckinglutely not. But he does start seeing things as they are, not as he wished them to be. He mitigates wherever he can, which is an exhausting thing. 

Grima has gone to Eomer and been like, ‘You know none of this is tenable, right? You’re going to hit burn-out. Your uncle is going to die at some point. Your cousin doesn’t have the wherewithal to lead our people in a strong, unified way. Gondor’s barely holding on by the skin of their teeth. And you can’t fix that fundamental truth of your cousin’s lack of gumption and having-what-it-takes, no matter how much you prop Theodred up. At some point, the centre will not hold. At some point, things will fall apart. What will you do then, my lord?’ 

Which is, coincidentally, Eomer’s moment of ‘your words are poison.’ 

But, also like with Eowyn, there’s much truth in Grima’ words, even if the motivation for his saying them is to cause harm. In fact, it is the slices of truth that make the venom all that much more potent.

Grima’s peak tactic really is just laying truths on the table, but twisted in a way that benefits his aim, and then he leaves them there and he departs the room and you’re left looking at something you might not want to look at. He makes people hear things they can’t unhear; make them know things they can’t unknow. 

This isn’t to say that man isn’t full of bullshit. Of course he is. Why do you think his robes are so big? They’re full of lies. But when we see him sliding a verbal blade into someone’s ribcage, it’s almost always couched within something that is true. 

Eowyn was alone, in many ways. Theoden was getting on and past his prime. Eomer was seeking war with Saruman. But obviously, things are more complicated than that and nothing is ever quite how Grima frames it. And I think this is a skillset he’s always had. 

ANYWAY. 

--

Grima would go hawking with Theoden, in pre-war days! Grima likes hunting. It’s one of the few things he likes that falls into the slot of “typical masculine activities”. He is a decent shot with an arrow and has out-done Eomer on hitting birbs out of the sky. Every-year when there are midsummer solstice festivities and games, Eomer ropes Grima onto his team purely for the hand-eye coordination. 

(the only reason he missed saruman and/or gandalf was because he didn’t know who he wanted to murder more, and also he was in Peak Feral mode so not doing anything to the best of his abilities.) 

--

Obviously, I’ve said this one before, but on 21 June 3017, Eomer and Grima were utterly tanked at a summer solstice festival and they hate-snogged each other and may have had some angry fucking in some deserted room or broomcloset while everyone was dancing around a bonfire. Once done, they walked in opposite directions and never talked about it again. 

It may have recurred in 3018. 3019 it didn’t but that’s because Grima was weird and self-aware of Things post-war so avoided Eomer like the plague. 

--

One time, during Winter Jol, Eomer was trying to demonstrate his largesse as newly minted Third Marshal of the Marc, he’s like twenty at most, and so he went and bought everyone in his household gifts and his uncle’s household as well. It was mostly alcohol. But for the Formal Officers and various high up positions he got proper presents but had no idea what to get Grima because what the fuck to get a guy like that? Anyway, he was just like “fuck it, he can write, right? That’s a … thing? He can do? I guess? I think?” and so he got him a little travelbox for penknives and quills and all that. Grima has used it on up through the war and, provided no one nicked it after he got chucked out of Meduseld, he will return to using it. 

Eomer feels weird about this. 

Grima is just like, “it was a useful gift. Why wouldn’t I make use of it??” 

Eomer, “ok but we were rivals and nemesis or something for so long, and you had so much money, why didn’t you get a new one?” 

Grima, “...I don’t know.” 

Eomer, “so you pulled that out every time my uncle was like ‘Grima go thither and yon’ and you trundled off and brought that with you.” 

Grima, “...yes.” 

Eomer, “and never once you were like ‘this thing reminds me of this obnoxious twat who keeps roughing me up and threatening to kill me if I look at his sister, maybe I should get a new one’?”

Grima, “...evidently not.” 

Eomer, “you see how that’s weird, right?” 

Grima, “well I didn’t think it was weird until you made it weird. Anyway, you’re my lord’s nephew, of course I had to use it. It’s sort of obligated.” 

Eomer, “For a little while.” 

Grima, “well I can get a new one.” 

Eomer, “I mean at this point it’d be weird if you did because now we’re fucking or something.” 

Grima, “I’m so confused about why you brought this up.” 

Eomer, “so am I. Fuck it, I’m going to go drink with Eothain and bemoan the state of the world.” 

--

I hope you enjoyed! I know not all were strictly pre-canon and I'm not sure if you were looking for anything in particular, but there you go.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Hungry Eyes

masterlist

Summary: Spencer is tired of hiding your relationship. 

A/N: The idea for this fic came from a lovely anon that requested a fic based on She’s So Nice by Pink Guy. I also drew inspo from Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen (strange mix, but stay with me here.) So basically, a lot of Dom!Spencer goodness. I’d like to say a huge thank you for almost 1k followers, because wow. I never imagined 5 people would actually want to read my writing. I love you all, and I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, jealousy, degradation, spitting, slapping, oral sex (male and female receiving), spanking, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex

Word Count: 5.5k

           “That is one fine piece of ass. Don’t think I could get any work done with a sweet little thing like that prancing around my precinct,” mutters yet another sleezeball detective, beady eyes trained on you like a lion might study their prospective prey. It’s moments like these that Spencer has to remind himself that patience is a virtue – that he must bite his tongue because he’s at work and that means he has to act professional. Even if those around him don’t seem capable of affording him the same luxury.

           So, it’s with a clenched jaw and all the self-restraint that he can muster that Spencer forces himself to focus on the task at hand. Because Spencer is a professional, and there are more pressing matters that demand his undivided attention. The detective could be dealt with later – in the form of a complaint to the higher ups. But for now, patience.

           Usually, this wouldn’t be a problem. Years on the job had taught Spencer to remain level headed no matter the circumstance. Usually, Spencer could tune out the locker room talk in favor of immersing himself into the case. But when it came to you, or rather, people who dared to look upon you with eyes laden with lustful intentions, Spencer had a rather short fuse.

           It happens often, and he supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised. You’d certainly turned his head the first time he was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you. He’d nearly broken his neck trying to steal another glimpse of you as you walked past him on your way to Emily’s office on your first day. No one would ever describe Spencer Reid as forward, but on that day, he was the most brazen he’d ever been.

           Throwing caution to the wind, Spencer made a split-second decision stop you and introduce himself.

           It was the best decision he would ever make.

           So, yes – he understood why the head of everyone you passed turned your way, eager to bask in your unparalleled beauty. But that didn’t mean that he had to like it. In fact, every time Spencer caught some imprudent bastard leering at you, he had to remind himself that enacting physical force on another person with no real reason could cost him his job. That, and he was above resorting to violence – or at least he was, until you came around.  

           Part of his anger was rooted in the obvious lack of respect. It didn’t matter if Spencer held your hand in his as the two of you walked down the street, or if he kissed you on the lips in the middle of a crowded restaurant. All the PDA in the world did nothing to assuage the lingering stares, and Spencer felt his sanity chip away with every passing day.

           In the beginning, keeping his relationship with you a secret from your colleagues seemed like a good enough idea. Both of you were in agreement that you didn’t want to your personal relationship to affect your professional one, so when the elevator doors opened up and the two of you stepped out into the bullpen, you both were on your best behavior. And it was okay at first – Spencer was able to put his romantic feelings aside and focus on his work, all while still being able to make eyes at you from across the room. It was the perfect arrangement.

           Until it wasn’t.

           Because it wasn’t enough that you were gorgeous – you were also the most selfless person that Spencer had ever met. Always eager to lend a hand to anyone in need – always seeing the best in everyone, regardless of if they deserve it or not. It was an admirable quality to have, and he loved you for it, but on days like today he wishes you were a little more perceptive.

           That, and he wishes you’d chosen to wear anything but the tight little skirt and low-cut top that you were currently sporting. Not that he didn’t love the way the fabric clung to your figure like it was tailor-made for you – because he did - it was just that every other male in the precinct seemed to enjoy it as much as he did. And that made Spencer’s blood boil.

           The tipping point comes when, just as Spencer is trying to hunt you down and propose a quick lunch break, he finds you engaging in conversation with the very same detective that had been spouting lewd comments about you all morning. You’re seated at the breakroom table, clutching a fresh cup of coffee in hand as you look up at the man, a polite smile upturning your lips as you listen to him drone on about how his amateur baseball team had won some stupid fucking tournament the previous weekend. He’s smiling down at you, endlessly smug and way too pleased with himself at having captured your attention.

           It makes Spencer sick.

           His reprieve comes when your eyes flit to the doorway and you flash him a breathtaking smile. It makes him warm from the inside out, and Spencer wants nothing more than to plant kiss after kiss on your lips. Unfortunately, he can’t, so he settles on returning your smile.

           “There you are,” Spencer greets as he crosses the room before coming to a stop next to you. “I was thinking we could go grab lunch.”

           “Is it really lunch time already?” you murmur as you glance down at your watch. “I guess I let the day get away from me. Detective Yarborough was just telling me about the baseball game his team won this weekend.”

           “Oh, was he now,” Spencer feigns interest as he turns to face the man.

           “Yup,” you say, completely oblivious to the uncomfortable tension. “Didn’t you tell me you played in a baseball game once?”

           This piques the interest of Yarborough and he raises an eyebrow at Spencer.

           “You play?” he asks, tone laden with disbelief.

           “Not exactly.”

           The detective merely harrumphs in response, and an uncomfortable silence falls on the room.

           Your eyes dart between the two men and your brows furrow adorably as you try to make sense of the almost palpable animosity.

           “Okay… So, lunch. Did you have anything in mind, Spence?”

           “There’s a really good pizza joint two blocks from here,” Yarborough chimes in. “I could show you, if you like.”

           He acts as if the offer extends to you both, but the way he looks only at you when he says it tells Spencer otherwise.

           “The hospitality is appreciated, but that won’t be necessary,” Spencer breezes, clipped and to the point. He’s able to see in his peripheral vision the way your eyebrows raise in shock, but he’s too busy glaring at the detective to care.

           “Uh, yeah. Thanks anyways, Detective,” you mutter confusedly as you stand.

           “Anything for a pretty lady such as yourself,” he replies. “And you can call me Trevor.”

           Spencer’s hands are clenched into fists and he has to actually bite down on his tongue to keep from doing something he’d surely regret later. You bid Trevor ado with a smile and a parting wave, and then Spencer’s ushering you out of the room and down the hall, hand placed firmly on your back. He can’t do much in regards to initiating physical contact, but he allows himself this miniscule act of PDA. The feeling of your warmth radiating through your blouse is the only thing keeping him from giving into his primal instincts. Instincts that are screaming at him to put that smarmy bastard in his place.

--

           The hours after lunch pass by rather uneventfully. You accompany Tara when she goes to interview the victim’s family, and for the first-time all-day Spencer is able to repress his frustration long enough to focus on piecing together a geographical profile. By the time you and Tara return, the sun has long since disappeared from the sky and fatigue is rolling off everyone in waves. When Emily finally announces the end of the day, she’s met with absolutely no resistance.

           Spencer immediately scans the room for you, only to frown when he sees that you’re nowhere in sight. In fact, he hasn’t set eyes on you in well over an hour, too busy wrapping up the days’ work to notice your absence until now.

           “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Spencer calls out. His question is met by several shaking heads.

           “I think she’s busy,” JJ sing-songs, eyebrows waggling suggestively. Spencer’s frown only deepens.

           “Busy?”

           JJ nods.

           “Yarborough has been chomping at the bit to ask her to dinner. My guess is he’s got her cornered somewhere.”

           Of fucking course.

           Spencer’s out of his seat and stomping through the precinct in second, oblivious to the way his coworkers exchange curious glances as he storms off.

           He finds the two of you in much the same way as before, only this time Trevor is blocking your path to the doorway, hand in the air as he moves to tuck a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.

           “– C’mon, babe. Say you’ll go to dinner with me,” Trevor croons in a way that’s supposed to come off as seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

           You lean backwards in an attempt to evade his touch, and you barely get the chance to open your mouth when Spencer intervenes.

           “She’s not interested.”

           The detective whips around, snorting in annoyance when he sees Spencer standing in the doorway.

           “What are you, her fucking keeper?” Trevor sneers, before turning back to face you. “Who does this guy think he is?”

           Something in Spencer snaps, then – the same something that has been swelling inside him for months, threatening to spill over every time he had to pretend that the stares didn’t enrage him. He’s tired of pretending, tired of hiding, and so, so fucking tired of not putting assholes like Trevor Yarborough in their place.

           Fueled by months of suppressed anger, Spencer manages to cross the room in about two seconds. He has several inches on the detective, standing at an intimidating six-foot one inch in height, so when he comes to a stop right in front of the detective, he’s looming over him threateningly.

           “I’m her fucking boyfriend, and if you so much as try to touch her again, I’ll break your goddamn hand,” Spencer spits out, and he’d be lying if he said the way Trevor’s eyes widen in fear doesn’t thrill him. “Are we clear?”

           “Uh, yeah. Sorry, dude,” Trevor splutters, raising his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know she was taken. My bad.”

           Spencer tears his eyes away from the detective and takes in the way you’re watching on with an amused expression. He reaches out, and you’re quick to place your hand in his. Without speaking another word to the detective, Spencer leads you from the room and out the back entrance of the precinct.

           “What was that?” you tease, eyes glistening mischievously underneath the street lights. “I thought we agreed that we weren’t taking things public just yet?”

           Spencer crowds you against the brick wall of the building, pressing his body flush against yours. He ducks down swiftly, pulling you into a frenzied kiss. His lips drag against yours relentlessly, and all it takes is one breathy moan before he’s licking into your mouth possessively. Spencer slots his knee in between your legs, simultaneously groping at your chest with one hand as the other tangles in your hair.

           When Spencer pulls away, he doesn’t go far. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck as you writhe against him, hands clinging tightly to his dress shirt. You whimper when his teeth nip at the tender spot right under your ear, and you can’t help the way your hips cant up when Spencer’s tongue brushes against reddened skin.

           “I’m tired of pretending,” Spencer murmurs as his mouth continues to move against you, sucking purple bruises against your flesh. “Don’t fucking care about how it will affect the job. Tomorrow, everyone’s gonna know that you’re mine. Gonna mark every inch of you tonight – gonna fuck you until you can’t fucking walk.”

           “Please,” you slur as you guide Spencer’s hand down until his fingers graze the end of your skirt. Spencer chuckles darkly against your neck when his hand brushes against the soiled lace of your panties.

           “Didn’t mean I’d fuck you right here,” he laughs, prompting you to let out an impatient whine. The hand that was previously tangled in your hair slides down until it’s wrapped around your throat, and Spencer’s cock twitches eagerly in his pants when you push your throat harder into his palm. “Such a needy little slut for me. Ready and willing for me to fuck you out in the open, where anyone could walk by and see how fucking desperate you are for my cock.”

           “M’ your slut,” you pant as Spencer’s middle and index fingers ghost across your center. “Only yours, Spence. I don’t care who sees, just - please fuck me!”

           “I fucking own you,” Spencer growls against your lips as he tightens his hold on your throat. “And as much as I’d love to take you right against this wall, the things I have planned for you would elicit quite an audience. I know how loud you like to be.”

           Spencer pushes your panties to the side and you let out a low hiss as he drags a finger across where want him most. You cry out in frustration when he removes his hand to bring it up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean.

           “Just needed a little taste to tide me over,” Spencer murmurs, smirking devilishly at you as he steps back from you. “Let’s head back to the hotel. I’ve got lots I wanna do to you, pretty girl.”

--

           As soon as the door to the hotel room clicks shut, clothes are flying off as the two of you make your way to the bed. It’s a mad dash as you both undress, and as soon as the last garment leaves your body, Spencer pounces on you. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and the way you immediately go pliant as Spencer’s mouth works against yours makes him hum appreciatively.

           “Don’t feel like being nice tonight. Are you gonna let me use that pretty little pussy however I want?” Spencer inquires, though he already knows the answer. He’s known how tonight would pan out ever since the first roll of your hips against his back at the police station.

           You nod fervently, hopelessly, and Spencer moves his hand up to grip your chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb traces over the swollen skin of your kiss bruised lips.

           “What about this?” he asks, tapping lightly against your lip. “Are you gonna let me fuck this slutty little mouth of yours?” Spencer slips his thumb into your mouth and you immediately close your lips around the digit, suckling lightly. Your eyes never leave his.

           “You’d do anything I asked you to, wouldn’t you, pet?” Spencer muses, pressing his thumb farther into your mouth until you gag around him. Spencer withdraws his thumb and his hand tugs hard on the hair at the back of your scalp. “Open.”

           You oblige immediately, and Spencer spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being instructed, and the visual of it makes Spencer let out a low groan.

           “Get on your knees,” Spencer barks out, and the way you scramble to follow his order makes him let out a chuckle. “So eager to have my cock in your mouth,” he hums as he taps his dick teasingly against your cheek. You open your mouth wide for him, and Spencer guides your mouth down onto his dick at a tantalizingly slow pace. You let out a moan as you hollow your cheeks around his head, tongue lapping greedily at the precum that gathered there before Spencer makes you take him deeper.

           “Everyone thinks you’re such an innocent little thing, but here you are, letting me use you like a cheap whore while you enjoy every minute of it,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as you moan wantonly around his cock. It isn’t until he’s halfway down your throat that your eyes begin to water, mascara running down your cheeks as he fucks into your mouth.

    ��      Spencer lets out a choked sound when your nose brushes against the skin of his abdomen, and he has to fight the urge to throw his head back in pleasure. He doesn’t want to look away, not even for a moment. Not when you’re looking up at him like that, tears running down your face as you swallow around his length.

           He pulls you off him just the tiniest bit before he’s forcing you back down, a string of curses falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down.

           “You take my cock so well, pretty girl,” Spencer praises, prompting you to let out a muffled moan around him. The vibrations send a shock of pleasure through him and he can help the way his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby. You like it when I tell you what a perfect little whore you are, don’t you?”

           You’re unable to answer, because Spencer presses down on the back of your head until you’ve taken all of him again. The pressure he puts on you doesn’t relent, not even when you gag around him.

           “Fucking choke on it, slut,” Spencer grunts. “Don’t act like you don’t want this. You were just begging me to fuck you in an alley not twenty minutes ago, like some pathetic fucking tramp. You wanna act like a tramp, I’m gonna treat you like one.”

           Spencer’s lips curl into a debauched grin when your hands come up and grip the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer and further down your throat.

           “That’s what I fucking thought,” Spencer moans, giving several more harsh thrusts before pulling you off of him completely. Spencer reaches down to wipe at the spit that coats your lips as you look up at him with a shy smile.

           “You okay, pretty girl?” Spencer asks as he caresses the side of your face.

           “Mm,” you hum, nuzzling your face against his palm. “Keep going, please. Don’t hold back.”

           “God, I fucking love you,” Spencer sighs happily. “Get on the bed.”

           By the time Spencer fishes a tie out of his suitcase, you’re sprawled out across the bed, head resting against the pillows with your legs spread wide. Your teeth are nestled against your bottom lip as you watch him stalk towards you, eyes running up and down his naked figure appreciatively.

           Spencer crawls onto the bed until he’s settled in between your legs. You present your wrists to him, just like you’ve done a million times before, and Spencer feels that familiar thrum of excitement rush through his body. He fucking lives for moments like these – moments where all his problems melt away to nothing. Moments where he has no other thought than wrecking you, thoroughly and completely.

           Once your wrists are bound you hold them above you, and Spencer sits back on his heels, eyes raking up and down every inch of you.

           “M’ so fucking lucky to be the only one who gets to see you like this.”

           Spencer pinches your right nipple in between his fingers and you let out a squeak, hips bucking up, desperate for some friction. He kneads your breast in his hand as he lowers his mouth to the other one, tongue laving around you. A light nip from his teeth is all that it takes for you to cry out, eyelids fluttering closed.

           “Spence, please. Need you to touch me now, pl-”

           Spencer’s hand connecting with your cheek stops you from finishing your sentence.

           “Do not tell me what to do,” Spencer seethes, once again gripping your chin to keep you from looking away. “Ungrateful slut. I should just leave you here, fucking dripping and desperate for a release that you won’t get. Maybe then you’d learn to take what’s given to you.”

           “Please, no! I’ll be good, I swear. I’m sorry!”

           Spencer narrows his eyes at you, contemplative.

           “Open.”

           You do as he says, and without another word Spencer inserts two fingers into your mouth, pressing down hard on your tongue.

           “Get them nice and wet, and maybe I’ll think about using them on you.”

           You do as he tells you, and by the time Spencer removes his fingers from your mouth, you’re trembling underneath him from anticipation.

           “D-Did I do good?” you stutter out, batting your lashes at him as you squirm under his gaze.

           “So good, baby. I think you’ve earned my fingers,” Spencer hums. “Need you to be still, okay? You’re not gonna like what happens if you try to move.”

           You nod enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut when his fingers brush across your clit. Spencer spends ample time rubbing deliciously slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves, relishing in every gasp and whimper that falls from your lips. Lips that he’d very much like to kiss, so he does, and you’re more than happy to reciprocate. Spencer lets out a happy sigh into your mouth.

           You get lost in the kiss, so lost in the way that Spencer licks into your mouth that it catches you completely off guard when he slides two fingers into you.

           “Oh, God,” you moan when Spencer curls his fingers against your walls, fucking them in and out of you, slow and unrelenting.

           “S’that feel good, princess?” Spencer asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tell me how it feels.”

           Your head falls back against the pillows as you struggle to keep your hips firmly placed on the mattress.

           “Feels amazing, Spence. Always feels so good with you. Never want anyone else, only you.”

           And fuck, if that sentiment doesn’t shoot straight to his heart - amongst other places. Spencer places a tender kiss to your cheek before he’s moving down to your neck and sucking a bruise right under your jaw.

           “Yeah?” Spencer prompts. “Not even that stupid fucking detective? I’m sure he’d love a chance to see you like this.”

           “So, you were jealous,” you chuckle between moans, and Spencer bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder.

           “F-Fuck, Spencer!”

           “Should I be jealous?” Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers, scissoring them at such an unforgiving pace that you can’t help but roll your hips against them.

           You regret this instantly, because Spencer’s fingers immediately pull out of you, leaving you empty and cold. Spencer tuts, shaking his head disappointedly.

           “Dumb little whore can’t even sit still long enough to cum on my fingers.”

           “Please, let me try again. I’ll do better, I promise!”

           Spencer shakes his head and scoots up until his back is rested against the pillows.

           “C’mere,” he commands. “Lay across my lap. Or can you not follow simple commands?”

           “I-I can,” you whisper as you crawl across him, splaying out so that you rest on your elbows with your ass in the air.

           Spencer grabs a handful of your ass and kneads it in his hands.

           “How many do you think you deserve?”

           You blush and smile shyly at him from over your shoulder.

           “However many you want to give me. I can take it.”

           Spencer returns your smile.

           “Good answer. I think you can handle fifteen. How does that sound?”

           “Sounds perfect. T-Thank you, Spencer,” you mumble, cheeks burning red. Spencer continues to caress the tender skin of your bare ass, admiring the way the skin is completely blank; the perfect canvas.

           You let out a whimper when his hand comes down hard on your ass before kneading the sensitive, reddening skin.

           “T-Thank you,” you gasp out, and Spencer is quick to follow up with another strike against the opposite cheek.

           It goes on like this until it’s time for the fifteenth strike, and by then you’ve devolved into garbled whines, ass bright red and marked up with the imprint of Spencer’s hands. His dick is painfully hard underneath you, and you’re in a similar state – arousal dripping onto Spencer’s thigh, coating it.

           “Last one, baby. Do you think you can handle it?”

          “Y-Yes,” you choke out. “Please, I need it. Hurt me, please.”

           The desperation in your voice does things to him, makes him practically feral with the need to fucking tear you apart, and Spencer is quick to deliver the final blow. You barely even have it in you to cry out anymore – a feeble sob is all that falls from your lips.

          Spencer’s hand ghosts down across your bruised skin until his fingertips trace over where you drip for him.

          “You like it when I punish you, don’t you, dirty girl?” Spencer hums as his fingers glide over your soaked folds. 

          “Y-Yes,” you mewl, shifting so that your cunt grinds back onto his hand. Spencer indulges you - allows you to rock your hips against his palm as he watches on in awe, soaking up every desperate sound that tumbles past your lips. 

          Spencer pulls his hand away after a moment and you keen in protest.

           “Can you sit up for me, sweet girl?” Spencer asks, and you nod, because of course you do – you’d do anything if you thought it’d please him. You struggle to pull yourself up with shaky limbs, and Spencer puts a hand on your lower back to steady you. “Can you straddle my leg? Yeah, just like that.” Spencer pulls you down and places a slow kiss to your lips, one hand coming up to wipe away the tears gliding down your face. After a moment of slow, sweet kisses are shared, Spencer unties your wrists.

           “I want you to ride my thigh – can you do that, princess?”

           You whimper as you lower yourself down onto his leg, eyes fluttering shut as you begin to rock against the hardened muscle of his leg.

           Spencer continues placing kisses on your lips, your face, your neck – worshipping every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth, all while whispering praises against you.

           “So perfect for me. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs as he grips your hips with steady hands, urging you to increase the speed of your hips. “Can’t wait to have that perfect pussy wrapped around my cock. Always so tight, yet you take it so well every time.”

           “S-Spence, m’ close,” you slur, hands clinging desperately to his shoulders.

           “Already? You usually last a bit longer than that, baby.”

           “P-Please, Spencer, I can’t-” you whimper, tears once again pricking at the corners of your eyes at the thought of having to wait a second longer.

           “Shh, baby. It’s okay, you can cum,” Spencer reassures you, and your shoulders visibly untense. “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

           It takes two more rolls of your hips for you to cum on Spencer’s thigh with a cry of his name. Spencer rubs soothing circles into your hips as you ride out your high, murmuring broken thank yous as you come down.

           Finally, you still, and your eyes open, pupils so dilated that your eyes look almost black in the dim light of the hotel room.

          “You okay, princess?”

           You give a weak nod.

           “M’great,” you smile, sounding as fucked out as he’s ever heard you. You lean down and slot your mouth against his, and the kiss is slow and languid – soft and unhurried.

            Spencer is the first to pull away.

           “Need you to get on all fours for me,” he instructs. “Don’t think you need to put any pressure on that pretty little ass of yours right now.”

           You giggle at that, before crawling off of Spencer’s lap. You assume the position, and Spencer places a pillow underneath your hips before trailing a line of kisses down your spine. By the time he reaches your ass, you’re writing against him, wiggling your hips eagerly. Spencer places a kiss to both of your bruised cheeks before pulling away.

           You let out a startled oh! when Spencer licks up your center, parting you with his fingers before fucking in and out of you with his tongue.

           “S-Spence, oh my God, yes!” you cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he continues to work his mouth against your core.

           “Love your fucking pussy so much,” Spencer sighs against you, lapping at your clit hungrily. “Could fucking lick you out for hours. You taste so perfect, Y/N.”

            Spencer lets out a filthy groan against you, and that’s all it takes for you to fall over the edge, wrecked moans filling the otherwise silent hotel room. This orgasm hits you both quicker and harder than the first, and he can’t help but smile against you as you rock back against his face, desperate to prolong the sensation. Spencer continues to work you through your orgasm, stopping only when you cease to twitch underneath him.

           “Such a good girl for me. Think you can handle one more?”

            You raise up just enough that you can look at him from over your shoulder.

           “Yes, please,” you beg, voice scratchy and raw. “Please, fuck me.”

           “Yes, ma’am,” Spencer chuckles. “Do you think you can lay on your back? I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum on my cock.”

           You answer by rolling over, wincing slightly when your ass comes in contact with the sheets. You look up at Spencer with wide, doe eyes. You have mascara smeared all down your cheeks and your lips are swollen, and to top it all off, deep, purple love bites are dusted across the entire expanse of your neck and chest. Spencer had set out to mark you as his – so that no one would be able to deny that you belonged to him – and he’d done a spectacular job, if he said so himself.

           “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

           “Then come fuck me already,” you challenge, looking sated in every possible way – yet still, your eyes hold the same hunger that he’s sure is reflected in his own eyes.

           Spencer leans down and traps your lips in a bruising kiss, and without warning he thrusts in you to the hilt. You cry out into the kiss, startled by the sudden intrusion, but Spencer sets a brutal pace that leaves you no time to recover.

           “You said you wanted me to fuck you,” he growls against your lips. “Now fucking take it.”

           He’s fucking into you so hard that you can’t even manage a reply – you just tighten your legs around his waist and drag your nails across the expanse of his back, no doubt leaving bright red marks in your wake. Spencer can feel his own release fast approaching – honestly, he’s been close ever since the first drag of his tongue against your pussy. And now that he’s finally enveloped into your tight, wet heat, that all too familiar feeling in the pit of his stomach is threatening to consume him.

           Spencer’s hand descends from its place next to your head down to your clit, and your whole body jolts with the first swipe of his thumb. You clench around him as a litany of particularly filthy utterances escapes you, and Spencer’s hips stutter.

           “Fuck, princess,” he groans, head coming to rest on your shoulder as he struggles to regain his rhythm. “You don’t even know what you do to me. You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Never fucking want to lose you. Love you so much.”

           “I love you, I love you, I love you,” you chant into his ear, sounding like some kind of siren, luring him straight to his inevitable ruination. “I’m so close, Spence. Cum with me, please? I want to feel you. Please, baby.”

           “Y-Yeah, fuck,” Spencer chokes out. “Say my name when you cum, princess. Want everyone to know how good I fuck you.”

           And when you cum with a shout of his name, walls pulsating deliciously around his cock, Spencer is quick to join you. He continues to roll his hips against yours as you both ride it out, whispers of almost intelligible affirmations being shared between slow, loving kisses.

           After a moment of post-orgasm bliss, Spencer leaves and returns with a bottle of cocoa butter lotion and a warm, wet rag. You watch on with heavy lidded eyes as he cleans you up, and for a moment, he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. It’s not until he finishes slathering your reddened backside with lotion that you speak again.

           “You shouldn’t be jealous, by the way,” you murmur as he lays down beside you. “You’re it for me, Spencer Reid. I don’t ever want you to doubt that I’m anything less than crazy about you.”

           It’s everything that Spencer’s ever wanted to hear, and just like that, every fear – every insecurity that had plagued him in the past several months – fell away to nothing. Suddenly, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been worried in the first place.

           “You’re it for me, too,” Spencer whispers as he pulls you until his arms and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

           “We’re going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, you know,” you remark as you nuzzle into Spencer’s side.

           “Don’t care,” he sighs happily. “I’ll shout it from the roof tops if I have to. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.”

           “You’re a sap, Doctor Reid.”

           “Only for you.”

           A moment of blissful silence passes, before the sound of your growling stomach sets you both into a fit of giggles.

           “We never did get dinner, did we?” Spencer muses as he lightly runs his fingernails across your scalp. You hum appreciatively and a pleased shiver rolls through you.

           “Nope. You were a little too preoccupied with marking your territory to even offer to feed me,” you tease as you run your fingertips down the planes of his chest.

           “Well, now that that’s been taken care of - could I interest you in some takeout?”

          “Possibly,” you sigh, flattening your palm on his chest, right over his heart. “Do you think that pizza place Trevor mentioned delivers?”

          “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

          “Is that a no?”

          “... Look up the number.”

-

-

-

taglist: @90spumkin​ @moon-light-jukebox​ @thebookamongmen​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsametaphorbriansblog​ @eldahae​

[h0tchner]

go team hotchner!

pairing: dad!aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: aaron is coaching jack’s soccer game & reader is in the crowd! aaron & reader are happily married, but another woman’s mean comments and blatant flirting makes the reader jealous. fluffy shenanigans ensue!

word count: 2.5k

includes: FLUFF, jack hotchner is the sweetest, you & aaron are married, jealous!reader, kissing, family planning, & AARON IN A GREY T-SHIRT

rating: 18+ (for VERY brief mentions of sex and a little smidge of cursing)

a/n: i wrote this for @ssahotchswife​’s soft hotch saturday! this is my first published fic, so i hope y’all enjoy. PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Atta boy, Jack!” Aaron yells from the side of the field, clapping his hands as his son scores another goal.

Beaming, you holler from the benches along with the crowd. You watch as your husband jogs up and down the sidelines with ease, keeping up with Jack’s soccer team. It’s a stunning Saturday morning and you are thrilled to spend every moment of it with the Hotchner boys. Your Hotchner boys.

When they asked Aaron to coach the team, how could he say no? After losing Hayley, he promised himself that he would do everything in his power to be there for Jack. When you first started dating, Aaron was hesitant to introduce you to his son. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you in Jack’s life, but rather he didn’t want to scare you away. You were a 26-year-old NCIS agent and he was a 40-something FBI agent. You knew he had a son, you knew he was a widow, and you knew he was older than you: but you didn’t care. You loved him. It took a little coaxing to get Aaron to open up to you about his fears, but once he did, you assured him then and there that you weren’t going anywhere. He introduced you to Jack the very same day. Four years later, you and Aaron are stronger than ever.

The ref blows the whistle, calling a break. Aaron motions for the kids to huddle in. He squats on the floor to get on their level, enthusiastically whispering, walking them through the next play. Your heart swells watching him talk to the group of children. Aaron Hotchner, always the hero, the role-model, the leader. Gentle yet powerful: he was intoxicating.

Your eyes dart over his crouched figure; the soft, heather grey of his t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. You draw in a breath, a memory of last night flooding your senses, remembering how you held on to those shoulders for dear life as he pounded you into the bed. You feel your cheeks blush red, and you look up to the sky, shutting your eyes to collect yourself. Damn. Even just the thought of touching him gets your blood up.

You open your eyes, letting your gaze travel back to Aaron’s body, admiring how good his butt looks in those black Adidas track pants. You bite your lip a bit, feeling overwhelmed with joy, knowing that beautiful man, inside and out, was all yours. God, what you wanted to do to...

“Damn he is HOT. Way hotter than the old coach. I think his son is on the team?” A woman’s voice rings out from behind you.

“Yeah, I think so. Did you hear what happened to his first wife? So sad, lost her when his son was little. Apparently he’s shacked up with some 20-something-year-old now.” A second woman’s voice chimes in.

“No way. Him? Married to that? He needs a real woman, not some child. A man that experienced should be with someone his own age. I’m gonna talk to him after the game, see what his deal is.” The first woman replies, voice dripping with venom.

“I think you should!” Agrees the second.

“Oh, I will. I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Snickers the first.

They both laugh as you sit frozen in your seat, blinded by a wave of anger and sadness.

Some child? Someone his own age? Their hurtful words pierce right through your heart as you furiously blink back tears.

The ref blows the whistle, and the team scatters back onto the field. The ladies cheer behind you as the game starts back up. It takes all your strength not to break down under the crushing weight of their conversation. You take in some deep breaths, mulling over their comments. You weren’t “some child!” You were a grown-ass woman! You had a job! You were a federal agent! You loved Aaron and Jack: they were your whole world!

As you continue to give yourself a mental pep-talk, the hurt begins to dissipate as you realize how stupid those woman sounded. They didn’t even know you, or Aaron, or anything about your relationship. In that moment, you tell yourself that instead of wallowing in self-doubt, you would stand up to them and make it known that you were the only one for Aaron.

Just like that: you begin to feel a bit better. You focus all your attention on Aaron and Jack, letting the game fly by. You ignore the ladies gossiping behind you, and, by the time the kids are lining up to give the other team high-fives, you had pulled yourself together and come up with a plan to put these ladies right back in their place. You just had to wait for the right time to make your move.

“Wish me luck!” squeals the first woman. You can feel her getting up from the bleachers behind you.

“Go get him, girl!” sasses the second.

You watch as the woman walks down the aisle, her straight blonde ponytail swishing as she goes. She’s wearing blue-jean shorts and a white lace top: an outfit you’ve seen before on a hundred women who looked just like her. In any other circumstance you’d applaud her efforts (girls supporting girls, right?) but this was your man she had her sights on. No way. Not a chance. She wasn’t going to lay a single pink manicured finger on him.

Aaron is talking to the ref and the other team’s coach when she taps him on the shoulder.

Oh HELL no. You think, frowning.

He turns around and gives her a small, polite smile. You can’t hear the exchange, but after a few moments, she sticks out her hand to shake his, laughing. Aaron curtly returns the shake and turns back to finish up his prior conversation; but, this time, the blonde woman puts a hand on his arm again, lightly pulling him away. Your blood begins to boil. She gestures to the pack of kids, now getting drinks and snacks from the fold-up table next to the bleachers. Aaron nods, pointing over to where Jack is standing, sipping on some lemonade. She puts her hand on his arm again and tilts her head.

You decide it has been long enough. It’s go time.

You walk down the bleachers, picking up the hem of your baby blue floral sundress so you wouldn’t step on it as you descended.

The woman is still all over Aaron, clearly flirting. Aaron’s arms are crossed over his chest, lips in a terse smile. It didn’t take a profiler to know that his behaviour screamed “get me out of here.”

You fluff your hair a bit, letting it fall loosely around your face. With confidence, your feet hit the soft grass and you head towards your husband.

“Aaron!” you call out, waving and smiling as you near him, shooting daggers at the blonde woman by his side.

The moment he sees you approaching, you watch his entire demeanour change.

“Y/N!” he grins, excusing himself from the woman.

She whips around to face you with a vengeance as Aaron scoops you up, tanned arms firm around your middle. He spins you around as you laugh, surprised, looking down at him with pure elation.

He sets you down and, before you have a chance to say anything else, grabs your face in his hands, crashing his mouth into yours. You throw your arms around his neck and card your fingers in his hair, kissing him with the same fervour.

You can practically feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins. It’s hot and dominating: something about winning a game makes Aaron primal and giddy. You certainly aren’t complaining.

He breaks the kiss and lets his hands fall to your waist, squeezing lightly.

“Congrats on the win, Coach Hotchner.” You smile as you brush a lock of sweaty black hair off his forehead.

“Couldn’t have done it without my favourite cheerleader, Mrs. Hotchner.” He winks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead.

“Oh yeah?” You prod, cocking your head, looking into his gorgeous hazel eyes. “Who would that be?”

“Hm.” He pauses, looking up pensively.

He wraps his arms even tighter around your middle and dips his head down, whispering one word in your ear: “You.”

You laugh, swaying with him for a moment, capturing his lips in another kiss. As you pull apart, out of the corner of your eye you watch as the blonde woman stands frozen to the same spot, mouth agape. You smirk, feeling satisfied and self-assured knowing your little scheme was a success.

Then, like a rocket, you see Jack running towards you with a mile-wide grin on his flushed face.

“Y/N! Did you see? Did you see me make two goals?” Jack exclaims.

“Yeah buddy, I saw the whole thing!” You capture him in a bear hug, kissing the top of his head. You ruffle his hair and kneel down, looking into his soft brown eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! I love soccer!” Jack nods.

“You did a great job Jack.” Aaron says, helping you stand. He wraps an arm around your waist and looks lovingly down at his son.

“You’re our soccer superstar.” You add, glancing between Jack and Aaron with unbridled joy. “Now go! Go back to your friends!” You laugh, shooing him away, back to the group of sweaty 8-year-olds and their snacks.

You stand there with Aaron, snaking your arm around his back to match his around yours. You both watch as Jack bounds off. A quick glance to the side shows that the blonde woman is long gone, probably stomping back up to her friend to whine and call you more names.

“Is she gone?” Aaron murmurs into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You stutter, “How... how did you?” You trail off in disbelief.

“Oh please,” he smirks, “I had to stop you from practically biting her head off when you walked over.”

“Aaron!” you yelp, mocking upset. “You should’ve let me at her.”

He chuckles, lips twitching into a smile as he quirks one eyebrow up. “I couldn’t have my wife fighting with the aunt of one of my players. It’d reflect poorly on me.”

“She called me a child. Said that you should be with someone your own age. I think that warrants a free pass.”

His joking manner stops abruptly at your declaration. “That’s ridiculous and you know it,” he furrows his brow, shaking his head lightly.

You reach up and run your fingers over his scrunched forehead, soothing the lines into something softer.

“I know,” you nod.

Aaron pulls you into his side, wordless. Fingers tracing lightly over your hip. You knew he was thinking the same thing: no matter what they said, you knew in your heart that you and Aaron were meant to be. Age be damned. He was yours and you were his: forever. Simple as that.

“Mmm,” you sigh, taking in the beauty of the moment. You smile at the clear sky, the fresh air, and the feeling of the man you loved, right by your side. You two watch Jack as he talks and laughs with the other kids. He looks so happy to be surrounded by them: a natural conversationalist. You can’t help but start to think about how he would be the best big brother in the whole world. It makes your breath hitch in your throat a bit.

“What is it?” Aaron gives your side a squeeze.

Of course he could sense when your thoughts began to wander. Aaron was a man of many talents.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” You look up at him with a reassuring glance, returning the squeeze.

“Y/N...” Aaron trails off, hazel-brown eyes searing into yours.

Damn your gaze, Hotchner.

You look away, letting your arm drop from his waist and move to step away a bit: he grabs for your hand instinctively, keeping you next to him. His big hands engulf your small ones, fingers entwined.

You know he is still staring at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet. Your eyes refocus on Jack.

“I was... I was thinking,” you begin. “I love you. I love you so much, no matter what anybody else says. And I love Jack like he’s my own.”

You breathed in, prepping yourself mentally for what you were about to say next.

“Jack is so good with other kids.” You continue, “He loves being social, being a teammate.”

You gather the strength to meet your husband’s famous glare.

“And watching you coach these kids? You’re so good with them, Aaron. You make every one of them feel special. You give 110% of your heart, and I am so lucky to be your co-coach in life.” You tell him in earnest.

“Aaron,” you carry on, emboldened, “I think it’s time we added a new member to the Hotchner team” you finish, searching every inch of Aaron’s face for recognition.

You watch as he takes in the information. After a few beats, it clicks.

“Y/N,” his expression softens, “Do you want to have a baby?”

You bite your lip and nod, eyes wide and hopeful.

Aaron nearly explodes with happiness; his eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, unable to speak. And then, his warm body envelopes yours, solid but soft: unmistakably Aaron.

You let out a shaky laugh and bury your head in his neck, breathing in the smell of cologne and light sweat.

He pulls back a little, one hand tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he shakes his head in disbelief.

“Does that mean yes?” you ask, in a small voice.

Aaron laughs again, letting out a sigh. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger on your cheek. You lean into his touch.

“Yes,” he says, giddy. “Let’s have a baby.”

The sound of children laughing fills your ears as you grab the back of his head and pull Aaron into a soft kiss. The kiss is full of promise: a gentle pact, sealing the deal. You and Aaron were going to have a baby. Jack was going to have a little brother or sister.

You pull away, arms still around his neck.

“I love you, Aaron.” You breathe out.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispers back.

Nobody on this planet could shake the bond you and Aaron had. Suburban soccer moms be damned.

[d0llpie]

HOOOOLY HECK HI YOUR REQUESTS ARE OPEN YES uh okay s o. if I remember correctly I saw a work by you about chubby! reader which is what I've been looking for!!! I was wondering if you could do 46, 42, 39, and 41-based hc's for seijoh 4 by any chance? or Matsukawa (i haven't seen any x chubby!reader works for matsuwukawa and it drives me insa n e) and/or any of the seijoh 4 you prefer to write for most? thank you so much!!!!! <3

Seijoh Four, chubby reader scenarios

Oikawa x reader, Iwaizumi x reader, Matsukawa x reader, Hanamaki x reader

content warnings: suggestive nsfw for iwaizumi, food mentions + feeling guilty, very very slight assault, swearing

Prompt: “You don’t think i can pick you up?” “I don’t think i could love you any more than i already do” “I hate seeing you cry” “Don’t fucking touch them”

a/n: Hii love ! Thank you for the request ! i did one prompt for each boy so they have very different scenarios, hope you enjoy <333

wc: 2.7k

Oikawa “I don’t think i could love you anymore than i already do”

- Dating Oikawa required you to be pretty secure and confident

- He was the great king, known for his looks and admired by many fans, many of who you thought were prettier than you

- You never brought this up with him, he was always so strong, a confident leader, it’s why you loved him

- You also knew he overworked himself and that you and Iwaizumi were the only ones able to make him take a break

- You didnt need to stress him over silly things like your inferiority

- He loved you and you never doubted that, still, you couldn’t help but grow quiet as you were pushed away from the team by a swarm of pretty, thin, perfect fangirls who came to congratulate your boyfriend

- “Oi Shittykawa we have to pack up” Iwa noticed you seemingly growing smaller, fiddling with your hands as you stared at the girls surrounding him

- “Iwa-chan you’re so impatient, where’s y/n?” you looked up and tapped his shoulder from behind him, earning many glares from his fangirls

- “Ah there she is!” he cradled your face and gave you a peck on the lips before taking your hand in his, his fangirls scoffed but if he noticed he didn’t react

- You on the other hand just wanted to go home, usually you were good enough at fighting off these thoughts but today you just couldn’t shake them

- “Tooru, can we go?” you tugged on his sleeve and he turned to you before wincing slightly “Tooru where are your knee pads!” you scolded him

- “Ahaha sorry girls, i have to go know, thank you for your support, i appreciate it very much!” the group whined and shot you glares, blaming you for his early leave

- “Iwa, his knee is busted can you help” you slipped his arm around your shoulder and waiting for Iwa to take the other side

- “y/n-chan please, i don’t need help” you glared at him and he shut up, Iwa took his other side and you started to walk

- You were so caught up in your thoughts of insecurity and worry for Oikawa that you didn’t hear him ask you a question

- “y/n-channn why are you ignoring me, i’m sorry, i swear i’ll rest all day tomorrow” you looked over to him “i’m sorry baby what did you say?” he frowned before making you stop walking

- “i asked what was wrong, you’re really quiet” you smiled up at him “oh it’s nothing baby, how is your knee?” he huffed out in frustration, he hated when you did this, knowing you hated when he did it too

- “y/n. don’t do that, talk to me” you sighed “it’s dumb” you fiddled with the ends of your hoodie, pulling it out to make it appear looser

- “If you’re insecure right now i’m gonna kick ur ass with my broken knee :(“ you giggled at him lightly before smacking him “i know i told you it was dumb..”

- He frowned again “baby, you always make me talk about what’s really going on, i need you to do the same so i can help you..” he was right.. “It’s just, i don’t know, your fangirls today were staring at me a lot and they’re all so skinny and pretty and i just-it went to my head”

- He pouted before cupping both your cheeks “i don’t think i could ever love you more than i already do.. You have no idea how often i think i’m not enough for you baby, but you’re so much more than enough for me j couldn’t possibly be with anyone else, no one could treat me the way you do, you’re perfect in my eyes”

- A stray tear fell down onto his thumb as he swiped it away “Kawa of course you’re enough! You’re so talented and perfect, you always communicate with me and put effort into everything you do i’m so proud of you, please don’t doubt yourself!” he laughed at your scolding “how can you be so blind”

- You smiled at him as he pressed his lips against yours, pulling you against his body as he deepened the kiss “oi shitheads! hurry up!” You broke apart to see Iwaizumi ahead of you both waiting impatiently

- You laughed before taking his hand and continuing to walk, squeezing his hand lightly

Iwaizumi “i hate seeing you cry”

- You felt so guilty, you had just eaten what you thought was way too much cake and were now crying in front of the mirror

- You couldnt seem to find anything about yourself attractive, everytime you saw your reflection your eyes zeroed in on your flaws

- You grabbed at your stomach, your sides, everywhere you could while looking into the mirror with red puffy eyes

- Iwaizumis footsteps could be heard approaching your room, you quickly turned around and threw on one of his hoodies, trying to find some pants

- He opened the door to see you in his hoodie and some panties and immediately smirked “hi baby, what’re trying to do?” you shot up and slowly turned to face him, tugging the hoodie down as far as you could

- His smile dropped when he saw your tear stained cheeks and red eyes “y/n? what happened baby cmere” he pulled you into his chest, rubbing up and down your back before bringing you to the bed to sit on him

- You tried to speak but your eyes welled up with tears again “Haji, i need to get some pants..” you whispered, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke any louder and he felt his heart sink

- “Hey hey, tell me what happened” he smoothed your hair down before kissing your forehead, resting his hands on your hips

- he squeezed your hips reassuringly, a habit of his, but you tensed up. He put two and two together and sighed “i hate seeing you cry”

- “i just- don’t you want me to lose weight?” you looked up at him, wiping your tears on the ends of his hoodie while he gripped your hips harder

- “what the fuck are you talking about” he grunted before moving his hands to your ass “i love your body, i love all of you and i intend to spend the rest of my life reminding you how much i love you.” you smiled tearily at him and he kissed you firmly

- he began smoothing his hands over your ass and you chuckled at him “what’re you doing Haji?” “oh c’mon, you look so beautiful in my hoodie what do you expect, you’re always so beautiful..” he kissed you again, rougher this time before leaning back to throw his shirt off

- “I’m going to prove to you just how attractive i find you okay?” you nodded, he gripped the ends of his hoodie, trying to pull it off you but you held it down “wait-“ you looked into your lap, he sighed softly lifting your chin with his thumb and forefinger “if you don’t want to that’s okay baby, but if you don’t want me to see you because you’re insecure i’m going to have to beat you up for thinking badly about the love of my life.”

- You chuckled before kissing him again, letting him take off the hoodie “i love you haji..” “i love you too baby”

Matsukawa “don’t fucking touch them”

- You were out at a bar with Issei and Hanamaki, it had been a while since you’d hung out with your boyfriends best friend and you were all free after work and decided to grab drinks

- Since you’d been there, Issei had had a strong grip around your waist, making you sit on top of him and gripping your thighs every chance he got

- He only got like this when he was jealous but you don’t know why he’s been acting this way in front of Hanamaki

- You were talking to Hanamaki about an angry customer at work when Isseis hold around your middle tightened “baby i’m going to the bathroom you’re trying to squeeze the alcohol out of me” you chuckled getting off his lap and giving him a kiss on the cheek

- “be safe” you nodded before heading to the bathroom, wondering why he was acting so strange, you couldn’t tell but someone across the bar had been eyeing you up since you came in

- You were walking back out when someone stopped you in the hallway “hi pretty/handsome” the man reeked of strong liquor and you tried to push past them but he caged you against the wall

- “it’s rude to ignore people, didnt nobody ever teach you any manners?” he started to slur, dropping his hand down to your body “Isse-“ you were cut off by his other hand covering your mouth

- You shoved him off of you, he looked angry, he was about to storm back towards you when a fist connected with his face, knocking him back into the wall behind him “don’t fucking touch them.”

- Issei spat at the man before grabbing you and pushing your head into his chest “i wasn’t, i don’t wanna touch a fatass like them anyway” this time it was hanamaki to punch him, knocking him to the ground

- He shook his fist “ah fuck, y/n, you okay?” you nodded, smiling at your friend before looking up at Matsukawa who was looking down at you concerned

- “i’m okay baby, really, thank you” he hummed “i’m never letting you out of my sight again, i knew he was looking at you...you know you’re perfect right? don’t listen to him.” you nodded again, burying your face into his chest

- “i know, let’s just go home mkay? you both need to get some ice on your hands” Issei smiled, kissing the top of your head before taking his jacket off and putting it on you

- After you’d iced hanamakis hand and said your goodbyes you were on the couch with Matsukawa “Issei what’s up baby?” he was scowling at the wall so you sat down beside him

- “i just don’t understand how he had the nerve, i mean what a fucking ass.” you hummed, tracing your fingers over the tattoo on his arm, knowing it calmed him down

- He pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him “you’re okay though right?” you pushed your thing in between his brows to make him stop frowning, “yes baby i’m fine! please stop stressing” you kissed his forehead and he sighed, burying his face in your chest

- “i love you, and your body” he squeezed you tighter into his embrace, mumbling into your chest and you stroked his hair “i love you too Issei, honestly you’re more worked up about this than me, let’s go to bed okay?” he hummed, standing up with your legs wrapped around his waist before carrying your to bed

- He collapsed onto the mattress, on top of you, cuddling back into your chest with your legs tangled as you fell asleep in each others arms.

Hanamaki “you don’t think i can lift you?”

- Hanamaki was on his way home from work, he had texted you many times but you didn’t answer, you were fast asleep on the couch with one of your favourite shows playing in the background

- He tried to call you to see if you wanted him to bring anything home but you still didn’t answer, he was slightly worried so he tried to get home faster

- When he entered the house he called out “y/n? i’m home” he moved further into the house, seeing you fast asleep in the couch and he smiled

- He brushed the hair out of your face before flicking your forehead “dumbass you shouldn’t fall asleep on the couch” you stirred in your sleep but didn’t fully wake up

- He lifted you up, carrying you to the bedroom before putting you under the covers. He went to take a shower hoping you’d wake up by the time he got out

- You woke up in your bed confused, you could’ve sworn you were on the couch, you figured you’d woken up and came to the bed to sleep

- The sound of the shower turning off alerted you to Hanamakis presence and you jumped out of bed “maki? hi love!” you kissed his cheek as he finished drying off his hair “hi, how was ur nap?” you smiled “good, didnt mean to sleep for so long, i haven’t made anything to eat”

- “it’s okay, your food sucks anyway” you stuck out your tongue as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, moving back into the bedroom “you look tired, c’mon i’ll carry you back to the couch while i check the fridge”

- you looked over at him confused before scoffing “yeah right” he looked over at you “what?” you raised your brow at him, gesturing your hands down your body before laughing softly

- He was quite offended to be honest “you don’t think i can lift you?” you looked over at him as if it was obvious before trying to exit the room.

- He ran over and pulled you into a hug from behind “excuse me, who do you think carries your sleepy ass from the couch to bed everytime you fall asleep watching your stupid shows?” you turned around in his hold “i walk?” he scoffed, you were serious?

- without warning he hoisted you up in his hold, smirking proudly at your flustered reaction “what were you saying about my big beefy muscles?” you rolled your eyes, tapping him to let you down, instead he began walked to the kitchen

- “maki put me down!” you tried to get out of his hold which earned you a slap on the ass “shhh, gosh i can’t even be a nice boyfriend!” he whined before putting you down on the couch

- “you’re welcome your highness” he bowed and you giggled “okay okay you can lift me” “hell yeah i can babe, these guns aren’t for show, plus, you’re a lot lighter than you think you are”

- you blushed at his words and he leaned in to kiss you sweetly “alright i’m checking the fridge, you can watch your show again but when i come back we’re watching something else okay?” you nodded before smiling, pulling Makis hoodie up to your nose and inhaling deeply

- You both settled into the couch and ate leftovers for dinner, talking about your days. After you finished you cleaned up before making your way back to the couch to settle in between Hanamakis legs

- You felt your eyelids growing heavy and you snuggled further into his chest before falling asleep. Maki felt your breathing slow and even out, he looked down and smiled at your sleeping face

- “i guess you’re making me do this again?” he sighed before pressing a kiss to your forehead, turning off the tv and slipping an arm under your legs and shoulders

- Once he carried you to bed for the second time that day he slipped under the covers with you, pulling you back into his chest and sighing “goodnight babe”

[kaaytea]

How about being the manager of Inarizaki, Nekoma, Seijoh and Shiratorizawa and how the boys would feel when they finally finally get a manager? :0

New Manager

⤷Includes: Nekoma, Inarizaki, Seijoh, Shiratorizawa

A/n: I haven't written for the HQ boys in a hot minute so I was sUper hyped for this! Thank you for the request, dear 💕

----------------------------------------------------------

Nekoma

Nekoma has been manager-less for so long that literally the entire team was dumbfounded when they spotted you chilling next to Nekomata

Like hello??? Who are you and what are you doing in their gym???

There's a good few seconds of silence when Nekomata introduces you

Despite being cats, they greatly resembled their Fukurodani rivals as they blinked back at you with big curious eyes

That is until Yamamoto slumps to his knees and starts tearing up, blabbering on about how they've been blessed with a manager while a quiet Fukunaga pats his back in an almost humouring manner

Yamamoto's out burst is what loosens up the team and they start making their way to introduce themselves to you

The first is Kuroo, who approaches you with a welcoming smirk which was quickly followed by a gentle smile from Kai and a reassuring pat on the back from Yaku

The first years are VERY eager to meet you! Lev and Inouka are bouncing around you spewing out questions to the point where Yaku has to kick them both and send them off to warm up

Sweet Shibayama very nervously bows at you and thanks you for taking care of the team (what a baby 🤧💕)

The entire team absolutely loves you by the end of your first day (yes even the aloof creature that is Kenma, though he'll never admit it)

Nekoma's inner team dynamic is very familial and you're immediately sucked into the little family vibes they got going on

The first years love to be around you! (Specifically Lev bc you're not as mean to him as everyone else)

The first years are always volunteering to help you carry equipment or water bottles

You once caught one of the jokes Fukunaga muttered during practice so now the two of you bounce little puns and jokes off of eachother to see who can get the other to laugh first (he is currently winning. although, you got him to tear up from laughing so hard once which you've been counting as 10 wins)

The third years tend to mother hen you a bit, specifically Yaku and Kuroo

Kuroo made it very clear to you that you're apart of the team even if you don't play on the court, so as captain it's his job to make sure all his players are ok (mentally, physically, socially, you name it! He's always looking out for you and is basically your big brother)

You and Yaku bond over the fact that you're both the unofficial team moms. The two of you are very organized and have a whole ass check list that you BOTH go over at least twice before the team leaves for a game or training camp

Kai is like your calm in the storm that is Nekoma. The two of you have had numerous conversations about anything from books to cafés and he's always willing to lend an ear if you need to rant

Kenma is a fairly distant person but he warms up to you when he notices how caring you are. He even let's you play his DS on the train rides to and from Nekoma

Inarizaki

You're a brave soul if you are willingly becoming the manager of Inarizaki

Kita is actually the one who asked if you wanted to be the teams manager

He saw you cleaning the board in a classroom during lunch break and was impressed by how well of a job you did

It doesn't matter if you said yes out of fear from Kita's blank stare or because you were genuinely interested bc now you're standing in the volleyball gym, clad in Inarizaki's signature maroon tracksuit

The team notices you instantly, particularly a certain blonde Miya

Before Kita even got a chance to introduce you to everyone, Atsumu had wandered over to you with a lazy smile tugging at his lips

Atsumu introduced himself and then started asking what you were doing here

"Are ya lost?" "Ya here to admire me?" "Ya dating one of the players?"

You didn't get a chance to answer his questions as Osamu lovingly threw a Volleyball at Atsumu, cutting off any moment you had to respond

The only problem was that Atsumu noticed the volleyball rOcketing towards him and scrambled out of the way like a startled cat, leaving the ball to hit you instead of its intended target

The silence that hung over the gym was deafening as the younger team members watched Kita and Aran rush over to assist your now bloody nose

Just as quick as it had started, the silence was broken by Atsumu yelling at his brother for hitting a helpless person in the face and the gym quickly descended into madness

Aran held a towel to your nose and gave you a few encouraging pats on the back as the both of you watched Kita chew out the twins (safe to say Kita was hard on them during practice)

Osamu approached you during a water break to apologize and, to the surprise of the entire team, gave you the extra pudding he had as a peace offering

Since that incident Osamu and Atsumu stopped throwing volleyballs at each other's heads (at least when you were around that is)

The team is also surprisingly protective of you

The glares people get at tournaments if they try to flirt with you are terrifying

You become pretty close with Suna as the both of you tend to sit back and watch Atsumu and Osamu fight (you tried to step in once but they literally only respond to Kita so it didn't do much)

Suna also pats you on the head whenever he passes you

(it's something he does to his little sister to show some form of affection/appreciation and now he does it to you for the very same reasons)

This goes with out saying, but the twins love you

Osamu still feels bad about the whole hitting you in the face thing so he always shares any snacks he's got on him with you

Atsumu truly just likes being babied by you

Any ounce of praise or happy smiles directed at him has him acting like a puppy

(does 'Tsumu have a tiny crush on you? Yep he totally does!)

Kita and Aran are absolute sweethearts!! They are both very grateful for all the work you put in and treat you to boba every other week as a thank you :))

Seijoh

It was a new school year and you decided to push yourself out of your comfort zone a bit

What better way to do that then be a manager for a sports team!

Apparently one of your classmates let it slip that you were looking to be a manager for a sports team because you were approached by a very buff and very attractive guy a few days after asking if you'd be interested in helping the volleyball team

You happily agreed to do a trial day that afternoon, to which the player, who you now know as Iwaizumi-san, breathed a sigh of relief and said he'd pick you up after school to take you to the gym

So the school day is over, Iwaizumi meets you outside your classroom and you're off!

As you walk to the gym he fills you in on some of the tasks the manager would have to do

The job didn't sound that terrible so you were a bit confused as to why Iwaizumi was having such a hard time finding a manager

"Let's just say that the applicants were more interested in staring at our captain than the actual job." He had told you

Ok so first unofficial rule....don't stare at the Seijoh volleyball team's captain? A bit odd but who were you to judge, maybe the guy was shy and didn't like attention

Your thoughts were cut off by the crisp slap! Of a ball hitting the floor followed by a few short yells from the players littered across the court

Your attention was then caught by the sensation of someone draping their arm over your shoulders and a tangy apple smell invading your senses

"Oh? I didn't know you were dating someone, Iwa-chan~"

Iwaizumi shoved the brunette off of you and quickly explained that you were just here to test out being the manager for the day

The player's eyes lit up and he turned to you with a bubbly smile, introducing himself as Seijoh's captain, Oikawa Tooru

Ah, Captain.... Now you knew why they were having trouble finding someone who didn't stare

Your first day went fairly smooth, just a few blunders that were quickly forgotten by the team after Oikawa cheerfully told you: "Everyone has to start somewhere, (y/n)-chan!"

After the first week you had to admit that the Aoba Johsai volleyball team were quickly becoming some of your best friends, you all fit together like a dysfunctional family

Makki, Mattsun, and Iwa would always agree/praise you when you joined in one the daily Oikawa roast session

Oikawa (when he wasn't pouting about how "mean" you are to him) was fairly sweet to you

He spent the first month helping you learn the rules about volleyball and explaining the lingo the team often used during plays

Although, he does jokingly flirt with you about 40 thousand times a week so...

Kindaichi is a nervous wreak around you the first few weeks. Eventually his nervous demeanor melts away. Now he goes to you whenever he needs someone to toss the ball up for him so he can practice his spikes

Kunimi likes you simply because you let him get away with napping during water breaks

Kyotani acts like you annoy him but if anyone made you cry or hurt you in some way he would burn the entire gym down in a heartbeat

Did I mention that Seijoh are also very protective of you?

When at tournaments they travel in a small pack with you in the middle to reduce the chances of you getting hit on

Shiratorizawa

Shiratorizawa is a very nice and prestigious school so you thought why not participate in an extracurricular that would be beneficial for, not only your resume, but you yourself as well!

Out of all the clubs you chose volleyball which you're starting to regret a bit since one of your friends informed you that the team is a powerhouse school

Which means you can't make a bad impression or silly mistakes.....at all

That entire philosophy is thrown oUt the window on your second day as the official manager

You somehow managed to trip over your own feet and slam into a cart full of spare balls AND spill the water bottles you were carrying all over yourself

You were hoping that the team, by some miraculous reason, didn't notice but the stifled giggles from a certain red head said otherwise

You would give anything for the ground to just swallow you up and disappear forever

But then you saw a pair of gym shoes standing in front of you and when you looked up you were met with THE Ushijima Wakatoshi, captain and ace of shiratorizawa, offering you help to stand up

You hadn't seen Ushijima be more than a stoic and intimidating guy so you were even more surprised when he gave one of his spare shirts to change into now that you had spilt water on yourself

I guess you could say your little clumsy episode was what broke the ice for you and the team

Tendou loves talking with you

You're an interesting person to him and he finds great pleasure in teasing you (in his own words it's "out of love")

Ushijima ended up not being as intimidating as you originally pegged him to be. Instead, he was just a quiet guy who surprisingly could say some pretty funny things (whether or not he intended it to be funny)

Goshiki just loves you. Period.

You praise him and give him head pats so he couldn't be happier!

Tendou and Shirabu tease him all the time about how he has a case of puppy love for you (which Goshiki aggRessively denies no matter how red his face is)

Semi is someone who is grateful for your assistance with the team and does his very best to get Tendou out of your hair when you're trying to do your manager work. He also shares his headphones with you on long bus rides so you can listen to music together!

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part IV

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, all characters are adults.

Words: 1880.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

_________

After you came back to your room, you got a message from Steve about changing the locks on both you door and your locker. You were so taken aback by today's conversation in the student council room that you had completely forgotten about it. Apparently, Steve had already requested the change of locks on your behalf through email, and you were really grateful to him for that: you dreaded coming back to the room that had been forced open. Of course, tonight you would have to move your dresser to the door so that nobody could enter when you'd be sleeping.

Shit. It was absolutely crazy.

"I'm not sure about all this, Steve." You texted him while laying on your bed and staring at your phone in the darkness of the room. "It doesn't seem right."

Naturally, you meant the fake dating thing. It felt horrible thinking of what others would think after seeing you with five different guys. Would they be calling you a whore in the open? Make some nasty jokes behind your back? Report you to the school administration for immoral behavior? Remembering those bigots from the student office, you cringed at the thought.

Besides, it still didn't make sense to you why you had to date all five. Sure, if they were around you at all times like your friends, these unhinged bastards who stole your things wouldn't do anything funny again, but it wasn't like that. What could one guy do against a group of other students?

"Listen, I didn't want to talk about it in class, but I'm worried it won't end with a stolen lingerie."

You didn't like his message.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. They might attempt something much worse than a theft."

Oh no. Was he talking about rape? Seriously? Did he anticipate others were so crazy they would do something like that?

But then again, girls were being raped in colleges even if it weren't the all-boys schools. A shiver ran down your spine.

"But if several people attack me, just one of you won't be enough." You typed with your shaky fingers, trembling beneath your blanket.

"It's not about the pure force. Each of us has a certain reputation, and others wouldn't want to cross us over because of it."

Wait, this was interesting. What on Earth did he mean? What kind of reputation was that to prevent people from messing with them?

"Thor is a good athlete and a great leader, his basketball team is ready to beat people to death for him."

"Loki's father is one of academy’s main sponsors, and he can have this school turned upside down if he wants to."

"Bucky is a threat by himself, but he also have a company of loyal friends."

"I don't think Peter is serious enough to scare anyone, but with his computer skills he could easily blackmail others, I’ve already seen him doing it. Students would be wary to cross him over just like any of us."

Steve was writing you a bunch of messages with a terrifying speed, and you could barely read the first when he was already sending you the second. It felt absolutely insane. Did he choose every guy because the more powerful admirers you have, the less others would intervene? Well, at least in case of Bucky and Thor who could beat people to near death, it was wise. You preferred not to think of Peter - you had no idea someone as sweet and caring as him did something as disgusting as a blackmail.

“But what others will think? 5 boyfriends? Others will think you are dating-” you paused, chewing your lips to bit, “- a whore. Nobody gonna stood up for me.”

"Imagine if each of us tells our friends that other four guys were just asked to watch over you, but you date only one.”

Oh. Yes, this was slightly better. Then you wouldn’t have to do something as bold as kissing every guy in public, instead maintaining the mystery who you were really dating. 

Damn, how Steve even came up with this plan? Why was everything so complicated?

“It’s getting late. Good night.” Your phone vibrated again, and you huffed with irritation. You hoped you could ask him a bit more - about what you were going to do with the thieves Steve found, for example - but he was probably getting tired with all your questions. It was better to ask him tomorrow.

___________________

The next morning you were restless: since you were starting to going out with guys, you felt like you needed to look better than you usually were, so you spent your morning working on your hair and makeup. It was like fake dating, right? You had to pretend you wanted to look pretty for them.

What else did you have to do? Cook something sweet for them? Yeah, probably, but not at the start of your relationship. Going to cafe together? Helping each other study? Loki also mentioned the cinema...

You felt dumb. Of course, you dated guys before, but now you realized you had no idea how to act not to cause any suspicion. Oh boy, it was going to be a tough day.

Thor nocked at you door thirty minutes before your first session, but you woke up so early you were more than ready to go. As you opened the door, first moving the dresser back to its place, the guy looked at you with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, what was that?"

"The dresser. I can't leave the door just like that until the lock is changed."

He blinked at you, watching the door and then probably remembering somebody forced the lock open to steal your underwear.

"These guys are batshit crazy." He mumbled and nodded you to go with him, putting his hand on your shoulder. "Don't worry, they won't do it again."

You wanted to argue they definitely would, but, seeing his warm smile, you thought Thor simply wanted to cheer you up and smiled at him in return. In the end, he was here only to make you feel safer: you didn't doubt he was very popular with the girls every time he went out to the city.

"You look great today!" He said sheepishly, walking in the dorm's corridor while other students were staring at him silently, obviously surprised to see you two together. "I mean, not that you looked bad yesterday, I just..."

Watching his face suddenly getting crimson red, you couldn't help but giggle at his expression. You could never think Thor was actually bashful around girls. Yeah, at your old place he'd definitely be one of the most popular guys around.

It was lunch time when you two could actually talk, sitting together at the same table and being watched by everyone around. Strangely, with Thor constantly talking and often rubbing your hand with his, it didn't feel suffocating, and you held your head high: regardless whether those pricks were looking at you, you weren't going to run away to your room and cry there like a little girl. Loki was right: you weren't a silly little sheep, scared of your own shadow. You wouldn't let anyone spoil your time in the academy you dreamt studying in.

Funny enough, Thor turned out to be a talkative type when he was speaking about basketball and his team in particular. He loved sports: while you were more into hockey, the way he talked was so enthusiastic it made you listen to him with a genuine interest. Thor's love for basketball was infectious.

He seemed a simple man, this giant bag of muscles who was laughing so loud people around him flinched; Thor wasn't the exact type of a guy you would encounter on your own, but he seemed nice, sincere, and surprisingly softhearted. You felt at ease talking to him, and soon you too acted like you'd known each other for long.

It was a pity you'd only met under this circumstances. It felt like you two could became friends.

But then when Thor absent-mindedly put his arm around your shoulders, you remembered Loki's warning: they would try to gain your favors. Was it the reason Thor was so nice to someone he just met? Wasn't it suspicious of him? You couldn't let your guard down after just one lunch together. In fact, you knew nothing of the man sitting in front of you.

"I knew something like would happen." Some guy to your left sighed loudly, catching your attention. "They were fucking crazy."

"I'm not surprised either. I just wanna know who they got in a fight with to be beaten like that. Have you heard they broke Gray's both legs?"

"Woah, both? That's brutal, man."

You shivered, trying not to listen to them.

"It'd happen sooner or later anyway. They were completely wild."

A word caught your attention right away: that was what Steve called those students who were stealing your things. Could it be a coincidence? Surely, in an all-boys school the students were fighting each other constantly.

But to the point of breaking both legs of someone? Really?

As you sent Thor a nervous look, he gently patted your shoulder, lowering his voice so no one would hear him, "I'm sure it's nothing to do with you. These things happen here from time to time because the guys have no idea what to do with all that testosterone."

You hoped he was right.

The rest of the day went as usual aside from Thor walking the corridors with you and chatting about sports: he managed to convince you to come see the game next month when they would be having a tournament. You were grateful to him for helping to ease your mind because the news of guys being sent to the ambulance made you shook. Steve also mentioned something about his and other's friends ready to beat anyone to death, right?

By the middle of your last class you couldn't think of it any longer and quickly typed a message to Loki. Of all people, right now he seemed the most sincere to you.

"Hi. Are the guys who were beaten last night are the ones who stole my things?"

Waiting was a special torture when you held the phone in your arms beneath your desk, hoping to see your screen lighting up with a message. In five minutes you got your reply.

"Yes." The message said simply, but it was enough for you to stare at your phone with horror, wishing you didn't ask Loki anything.

Oh shit. It wasn't a coincidence, right? It's impossible. Somebody did it on purpose. But who of the five?

"Do you know who did it?"

Next time he answered pretty fast, "No."

A part of you felt relieved. Maybe it wasn't related, finally. Maybe they got beaten by somebody who was fed up with their attitude because they were crazy as the guys in the cafeteria said.

But what if it weren't true?

"Who's the most brutal among you five?"

Biting your lips, you started rocking in your chair a little, making the guy on your left to roll his eyes in irritation.

The phone's screen flashed again.

"Barnes."

Part V

_________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @stupendouslovegardener @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic

[falloutjay]

Craig x cheery reader please (a little context: team Craig saved her from a bully, reader secretly thinks Craig doesn't actually care about her and Clyde and her are close but like platonically)

I had such a joy writing this, I just hope it still fits the request, as I am unsure if I hit the prompt.

I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! <3

__________________________________

Craig x Cheery!Reader

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” You said annoyed.

Why wouldn’t Francis just leave you alone you wondered. You never said anything mean, more like the opposite. You were just a really friendly classmate that never said anything mean to anyone. So why out of all people Francis decided to pick you to bully was a mystery to you.

“I bet you’re only so friendly because in reality, no one loves you.” You decided that just ignoring him would probably be the best course of action, but once you kept quiet, it agitated Francis only more.

He slammed you against the lockers to your right and kept you trapped there. You actually felt terrified. Before anything could happen, a monotonous and nasal voice to your left demanded your attention.

“Francis, you’re blocking my locker.”

“Fuck off Craig, I’m busy.” Behind Craig was his gang, consisting of Clyde Donovan, Token Black, Tweek Tweak, and Jimmy Valmer.

You never really interacted with them, as they just stayed in their small group. “You’re blocking my locker.” Craig repeated. “And I said I don’t-“ Francis couldn’t get any further before Craig shoved him.

“Fuck off asshole. Get lost before we hurt you.” Craig's expression was bored as always and he flipped Francis the middle finger, his trademark.

“This ain’t over (L/N)!” Francis cursed under his breath before he took off. Nervously you turned to Craig and his friends with a big smile stretched across your face.

“Oh, thank you, Craig!” He just shrugged and carefully pushed you aside to get to his locker, which you just were pinned against. “You can’t get pushed around like that Y/N.” Clyde said with worry in his voice.

“I-Its fine, really.” You laughed nervously. “No, it’s not. Clyde is right, you shouldn’t be pushed around like that. Why don’t you sit at lunch with us?” Token now chirped in too and your eyes widened at the proposition. “I’d love too!” You beamed.

It had been ages since that day, and you still thought about that day ever so often. Francis left you alone after that day since you always hung around Craig and those guys now. You had become great friends with the guys, and you were really close with Clyde.

You rested with him next to you on his bed in just this moment. “Whatcha thinking about, Happy?” Happy was a special nickname given to you by Clyde.

You two were born mood makers and could make anyone smile, even the stoic Craig Tucker. “Nothing important. Just thinking about when you guys invited me to come sit with you.”

“Ahh, that was a great day.” Clyde mumbled. It was a regular thing for you and Clyde to just hang out in one of your bedrooms, chilling on the bed, and talk about all kinds of stuff.

“So, how’s it going with Bebe?” You asked him. “Great, thanks for that restaurant tip. She loved it there.”

“I went there with my parents, and I thought you could impress her with it.” You two high-fived, without getting up. You really couldn’t wish for a better friend than Clyde.

“So, how’s your love life going?” Aaand now you hated him. “Ahh, don’t ask. It’s shit.” Clyde furrowed his eyebrows; not like you could see. “Is it really that bad?”

“Yeah.”

“But why?”

“Clyde! You can’t just ask people that!” You said in a whiney tone.

“Ah come on Happy, tell me. I’m your best friend. Who are you gonna tell besides me?” He had a point, you thought. You propped yourself up on one elbow and gave him a death glare.

“If you talk, you’re a dead man, Donovan.” Clyde sat up and leaned on the bedframe.

“I won’t say a word.” You took a deep breath and began explaining. “So, you know…I mean I…ehhh…I kinda like someone from our friends’ group.”

“I’m sorry, Happy, but I’m already taken.” Clyde said in a dramatic fashion. You flipped him the bird, something you copied from Craig but you only used it against Clyde, since he never took it personally.

“No. Not you… Its… I like…Craig, even if I don’t think he cares that much about me.” When you said the name, it was barely more than a whisper, but Clyde still heard it. His grin widened and he seemed hyped.

His hands landed on his cheeks with a faint slapping noise.

“Oh my god. My two best friends wanna bang each other.”

“What.”

“What.” Clyde’s happy expression became a shocked one, once he noticed what he just blurted out. “So, Craig likes me?” You asked confused.

“No! I mean…Yes, but I didn’t say it!” He stressed the “I” in particular. You felt shocked. You always thought Craig didn’t like you all that much, because he was always a little cold to you and he barely interacted with you.

“But I thought he didn’t like me.” Clyde gave himself a facepalm, cursing himself out for having spilled the tea. “Well, since I am already fucked… He does like you and shit. He is just…Bad at showing it. Like, he tries to interact so little with you, because he’s afraid you will notice how you make him blush and shit.”

“I-” You pointed with your finger at yourself. “Make him blush?” You questioned. “Yes, Happy, you do. Didn’t know you’re blind.” He said and you two heard the doorbell. The others had arrived.

You had gone with Clyde immediately after school, while the other wanted to join later for the video game night. Clyde got up from the bed and stopped at his room door.

“I swear, if you snitch on me, I'll kill you. I love you, but I won't hesitate bitch.” He pointed a finger pistol at you and pretended to shoot you. You pretended to get shot and rolled off the bed in a slow and dramatic manner.

You two laughed before Clyde sprinted downstairs to let the others in. You remained on the floor, pretending to be a corpse. When the others came into the room, Token was the one to question what you were doing.

“Clyde shot me.” You explained and pretended to be in severe pain. “Cl-Clyde. Don’t shoot o-our only o-o-other fu-funny friend.” Jimmy mocked him and Clyde pretended to laugh.

“Haha, very funny.” He commented dryly. You got up and sat back down on the bed.

“You can put your sleeping bags down here and then you can help me make your pizza in the kitchen.” Clyde instructed and gave you a wink. You quickly caught onto what he was trying to do and mouthed a big fat “NO.” to him, but he just smiled.

“Ah fuck you, Clyde.” You thought. You loved him to death, but right now he was being an annoying bitch, that tried saving his skin by having you confess so Craig wouldn’t figure out that the brown-haired snitched.

You just kept sitting on the bed, while the guys one by one left the room. Craig was the last one to leave but he stopped once he saw that you stayed on the bed.

“Y/N, don’t you wanna come with us?” He questioned, but you shrugged. “I dunno. Kinda busy thinking about stuff.” You smiled warmly. “Thinking about what?” Craig left the door ajar and stepped back into the room to lean on Clyde’s white Ikea dresser, which was opposite of you.

“I think I wanna ask a guy o-out, but I don’t really know how to do that. Any tips?” You asked in your sweetest and innocent voice. You really prayed that Clyde was correct but why shouldn’t he be.

But there still was this tiny fear in the back of your head that you were gonna make a fool of yourself in a few seconds.

“Well…” Craig seemed to think about it for a second. “Personally, I would just appreciate it if someone would just straight up ask me, you know? This whole playing around shit is stupid if you ask me.” You nodded.

“Hey, Craig?”

“Yeah?” He asked and shifted his gaze from the window to your innocent face.

“Would you maybe go out with me?” You asked and felt like you just lost all ground beneath your feet. For a short second, you felt like you were going to faint.

But once you saw that a faint shade of pink appeared on his face, you felt giddy, the butterflies in your stomach were going wild. Craig cleared his throat, before answering with a red face; “Y-Yeah sure. What about tomorrow? If you want, I’ll walk you home and we can hang out alone.”

You nodded; a big grin spread across your face. “That sounds amazing.” Craig offered you his hand and you stared at it for a second.

“Maybe we should go downstairs. You know…Otherwise, Clyde will choose our pizza toppings.”

“And we don’t want that, do we?” You asked you both laughed. You took Craig's hand and admired how warm it was.

“I’m surprised you like me. I always thought you didn’t care about me.” You whispered. Craig laughed, which caught you by surprise. “I'm just not good at these type of things.” He admitted sheepishly and scratched his neck.

“I guess.” You laughed to make the situation less awkward. Craig started leading you downstairs, not letting go of your hand. In the kitchen you found the others, fighting about their pizza toppings. Clyde was the only one to notice how you both had that light shade of pink lingering on your cheeks and that you held hands.

He smiled brightly and then made space for you two to also make your own pizza. The rest of the night went by peacefully, you guys played video games, snacked food, and talked about stupid stuff. The main entertainment was Jimmy, Clyde and you of course, as you were just the life of every get-together.

Craig watched you and Clyde in glee, as you and Clyde were playing Just Dance together like your life depended on it. He was sooo happy to now have you, someone who could break his stoic façade.

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IX

[ previous ]

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

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

- NINE YEARS -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "And, the other girl you saw is—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Happy to be working with you." 

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

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

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

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

 "Wow, everyone really… cleared outta here."

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Thanks. Mobs made it."

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

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

 "Here."

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

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

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

 "Do you, though?" He asks. 

 "Do I what?"

 "Look forward to working here."

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

 "Very big."

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Yeah, for sure. I'll be around."

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

 He needs to fucking call Erwin. 

 "Hey, bro, what's up?" 

 "Dude," is all Mike says at first. 

 "What?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "It—Wait, what did she say?" 

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

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

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

 "No, I'm not twenty-two anymore."

 "Could have fooled me," Erwin snorts. 

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

 "Could have been better too."

 "What? How—"

 "Could have bent her over the desk and—"

 "Dude!"

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

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

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

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

 "Yeah, yeah."

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

 *

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

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

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

 "Hitch—"

 "Breathe!"

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

 "What are you, my therapist?" 

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

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

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

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

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

 "Agreed."

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

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

 "Okay, and Erwin? What'd he say?" 

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

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

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

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

 "Uh, yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Why would you—"

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

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

 "Oh my god, we have to call Marie."

 "And, Maddie."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Why?" You question with a head shake. 

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

 "No, I—"

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

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

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

 "Then, talk."

 "Mm, pass."

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Uh, yeah?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 It is not a productive work environment. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Don't play dumb, Zacharias."

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "I don't wanna talk!"

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Mike frowns. "Uh, no?" 

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

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

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

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

 "Well—"

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

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

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

 "I'm hanging up now."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "I didn't say anything!" He laughs. 

 "You don't have to. I know."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Where'd you even find those?" 

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

 "So, you went… dumpster diving?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Ew."

 "Just spitball. Throw it at me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "What of it?" 

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

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

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

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

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

 "It was a frat boy car."

 "You were a frat boy!" 

 "And, now I'm a professional."

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

 "Most of the time."

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

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

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

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

 Then, you shake your head. 

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

 "Oh, sorry, I just—"

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

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

 "Yeah?" 

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

 "Tomorrow?" 

 "I mean, if that works for you."

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

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

 "I've always been an early riser."

 "Not from what I remember."

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

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

 "Kept up? Like you didn't wanna be?"

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

 “Rhi?” He looks incredibly surprised.

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

 “Didn’t see that coming.”

 “Neither did I, honestly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 So much for letting the past stay there. 

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

 “I really think we do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Then, what are you saying?”

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

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

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

 “Do you not feel the same way then?”

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

 “You were in love?”

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

 “Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Okay.”

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

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

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

 “Oh, thank god, fuck, thank god.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh my god—oh, god—fuck, Miche.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "That's my fuckin' girl."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Jesus fuck!"

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

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

 "Miche, please."

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

 "Good enough to fuck me?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "I—I—I—..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Another day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 But, not yet. Not yet. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Yes, yes, wanna feel you…"

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

 "Jesus fucking—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "We were, weren't we?" 

 "Mhm."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Wasn't positive."

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

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

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

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

 But first, he needs to call his mom. 

 *

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 A small pink box. 

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

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

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

 "You are fucking impossible, you know that?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Yeah, good call, bro."

 "I hate both of you."

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

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

 "Against my better judgement," you smirk. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Sounds like an asshole," Mike chuckles. 

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

[reginaphillange08]

Homecoming

(Bokuto Kotarou)

a/n : honestly just a cute msby bokuto one-shot cause I love him 😩 my longing to be loved really showed in this one 😐

summary: being the girlfriend of a professional volleyball player wasn't always easy. Bokuto would have to leave for months at a time. It's your first time seeing him in two months and you planned the perfect evening for him.

warnings: NSFW!! Minors don’t interact this contains smut. Pretty fluffy, almost too much fluff, then some smut at the end because who doesn’t like MSBY bokuto.

word count : 3218 (IM SORRY I GET CARRIED AWAY WITH FLUFF BUT ITS CUTE AND YOU’LL LIKE IT)

-nsfw-

It was the first night you were gonna be able to spend with your boyfriend in about two months. With him being a professional volleyball player, you knew this was a part of the deal. You two had obviously kept in contact over the break with daily texts and video calls whenever time permitted. The distance and time apart had taught you both patience and to value the time you two had together. You missed him so much, his bright presence, his golden eyes that bore into yours, his contagious smile. Bokuto meant the world to you and you were so excited to finally see your lover after so much time.

You looked at yourself in the mirror. You were wearing a brand new lingerie set you had gotten just for this occasion. You made sure to never wear it whenever you two had a night of sexy pictures or naughty video calls. This one was a dark hunter green and it complimented your (s/c) skin well. It hugged your curves in a delicious way, as it left little to the imagination. You put some makeup on and luckily today was a good hair day. You couldn't lie, you looked so alluring, it was almost sinful. After gawking at yourself in the mirror you put on your dress getting ready for dinner.

You had known he was coming home tonight for a while so you planned the perfect evening. To be completely truthful, you were so needy for him that you just want him to take you on the kitchen table. However this was Bokuto's first night back in a while, and you love him and wanted to make tonight special. The past two months without him have been pretty tough. No matter how many times he had to go away for volleyball, you never quite got used to the lack of his presence. Whether it was in the morning and you weren't greeted with his bright smile to start the day, or in the middle of the day when you walked into the kitchen and he was dancing to your favorite songs while he cooked, or the random kisses on the cheek throughout the day. Things were just a little less colorful without bokuto around in your little shared apartment. That's why you were elated to welcome him back home.

You had prepared his favorite meal for when he came home, and put on his favorite record. You decided to wear a dress he got you a while back on one of your dates. He absolutely adored that dress on you, and it's one of your favorites too. It was your favorite color and it hugged your figure beautifully. It fit like it was tailored specially for you.

You heard a knock and you practically sprinted full speed to the front door. You already knew who it was so you excitedly swung it open and you were met with your beautiful boyfriend and his warm smile. Your smile was from ear to ear as you threw yourself into his arms. You wrapped yours arms tightly around his neck as he buried his face into yours. His arms snaked around your waist as he held you like he hadn't seen you in 10 years. Truthfully that's how it felt. You finally whispered to him while still engulfed in his broad frame, "you're finally home baby, I missed you so much, you have no idea". He holds you a little tighter and says "I know baby, I missed you so so so much. You look so beautiful tonight, I'm really happy to see you (y/n)". You break away from the hug to finally give him a kiss. You stand on your tippy toes to reach him and he bent down a little to meet you. He holds your face in his hands and you rake your hands through his hair. Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, a seemingly desperate attempt to make up for missed time. The kiss is one you get lost in, falling into it headfirst. You two quickly closed the distance between you, bodies pressed up against each other destroying any personal space either of you had before. His hands moved from your face down your body and he wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you closer to his body. You kept playing with his hair while you two kissed because you knew it was one of his favorite things. What started as one passionate kiss quickly spiraled into a heated makeout session. Lips still connected and bodies still intertwined, he guided you through the door and closed it behind him.

He quickly threw his bags down in a haste and returned to your lips. Taking off his jacket while you two kissed. He was tugging at the hem of your dress and you were so close to just ripping it off but you hesitated. He sensed your pause and he pulled away and had a concerned look on his face. "Is everything okay (y/n)?" he said. You nodded your head and assured him, "yeah baby of course, I just needed a minute. I wanted to show you what I did for you". You giggled shyly and gestured to the food on the table. It was decorated with some candles and flowers. His eyes widened as he gave you a big smile, he looked at you and said "You did this all for me?". You shake your head and say "no it's actually for my other boyfriend, he's actually gonna be here in a few. Do you mind getting a move on?" You laugh and push him lightly. "Of course it's for you Kou"

He gives you a sweet smile and enveloped you into another warm hug. He plants a kiss on your forehead and says "Thank you baby, you make me the luckiest guy in the world". You two sit down and share the meal together. You absolutely loved having meals with Kotaro. Always getting lost in conversation, it was the best time to talk about everything the other had missed. You two exchanged stories of the past two months you spent apart, mostly laughing at his silly encounters with the rest of his team. You told him how work was going and the new books you were reading.

You finished eating and Bokuto helped you clean off the table. You had flipped the record so it wasn't silent as you did the dishes. You then resumed cleaning up and Bokuto took the rag out of your hand and held your smaller hands in his own. He brought them up to his lips and left soft kisses along your knuckles. He said "Thank you for tonight (y/n), I really appreciate all the kind things you do for me. I love you so much". You held his face with one hand and squeezed his hand with the other. You looked into his eyes kindly and said "Of course Kou, I missed you and wanted to make it special for when you came back home. I love you too". He kissed your forehead and you two continued to clean up.

You were at the sink rinsing off the dishes when Bokuto walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you from behind. You put your hair up messily with a clip just to get it out of your face for now, so your neck was exposed. He kissed your neck and took a deep breath and then whispered to you "baby you smell sooo good". You giggle and say thank you and continue rinsing the last few dishes in the sink. He eyed you like you were his next meal. He saw the way your skin looked so soft, and the way your hair still seemed to shine when in the dim kitchen. The soft glow in your eyes when you'd look back to him every so often. The way your dress dipped in the back exposing some of your back. He decided to take advantage of the vast canvas and began placing kisses along your neck and back. Delicate kisses became playful nips at your skin. He then started painting the area with little red bruises that would later turn purple. You put down the dish you were rinsing and cleaned your hands.

While he was attacking your back with hickeys and love bites you held onto the back of his neck as if you would fall if you let go. He sucked the sweet spot on your neck eliciting a quiet moan from your lips. He immediately held you tighter and whispered "you're gonna drive me crazy with that voice of yours baby, don't hold back. I like hearing you".

You turned around and caught yourself in another heated kiss with him. You lifted yourself onto the counter with his hands guiding your hips. You opened your legs to make room for his broad body. You had your arms resting on his neck with fingers twirling around his dual toned locks. His tongue had grazed your bottom lip as if asking for permission. You granted it eagerly and your tongues began to dance in a fit of passion and urgency. Both exploring each other's mouths with care but also immense drive. You two hadn't been able to hold, touch, or kiss one another in what felt like years. The excitement and satisfaction of finally having him here and all over you was setting you on fire. You begin to take off his shirt while still sloppily making out. You pulled back just to admire the art that is Bokuto Kotaro shirtless. Running your fingers along his defined pecs, tracing his abs with your fingertips lightly. You give him a kiss then you hop off the counter.

You take his hand and lead him to the bedroom. The room was all cleaned up and you had twinkling fairy lights turned on. It was pretty dim and the bed had rose petals on it. You might've been a little too excited and went overboard but you look over to Bokuto and it instantly made it all worth it. He had a huge smile on his face and said "(y/n) you're really gonna be the death of me". You laugh and kiss his cheek

Your two lips crashed into each other in a needy kiss. The kiss quickly turns urgent again. You begin stumbling backward while you two kiss, hell bent on getting to the bed as quick as possible. Truthfully, because you two were apart for so long, this heated makeout session already had you wet.

You finally reach the bed and he pushes you onto it. He then follows you and hovers over you. His large frame seems to consume your smaller build. He begins to plant kisses on your jaw and down your neck as he runs his large hands up and down the smooth curves of your body. His touch drove you mad, no matter how delicate or light. His fingertips grazing your soft skin lit a fire in you. You begin to take off his pants with a little help from him. You reach down to pull off his boxers only for him to grab you by your wrists and pinning them to the bed above your head.

He leans down and whispers "have patience baby, I'm gonna take my time with you tonight". He leans back to look at you, he adored the way you looked underneath him. He let go of your wrists and began to slip your dress off you. He gawked at your brand new lingerie set and let out the biggest grin. "You wore this just for me angel?" You grin sheepishly with a light blush dusting the apples of your cheeks. "Mhm" you replied softly. He strokes your hair and looks into your eyes lovingly and says "you're so beautiful (y/n)"

You kiss him passionately and say thank you. He takes off your bra and looks at the soft mounds that were hidden away. He absolutely loved them. He begins to massage them gently and knead them with his hands as he kisses your collarbone. He looked into your eyes as he took one of your hardened nubs into his mouth and rolled the other nipple between his fingers. He starts kissing the swell of your chest and painting it with little bruises. The occasional love bite would make you moan softly. Your moans were the most beautiful symphony to him, spurring him on. Further encouraging him to please you.

He left a trail of kisses from your chest down your stomach to your underwear. He put his fingers in the waistband and looked up at you for permission. You run your finger through his hair and nod lightly with a smile. He pulled off the lacy dark green garment and threw it to the side. He pushed your legs apart and eyed your glistening core.

He started with just a kitten lick. He always liked to start slowly with care. Delicate licks, slow and calculated motions so he can gage your reaction. He flattened his tongue and applied pressure to your clit. He started lapping up your juices with a little more urgency now. You moaned his name breathily and he started picking up the pace. He's always loved eating you out. He held your thighs down with his big arms. He attached his lips to your puffy clit and began to suck while he slipped two fingers into your aching hole. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach begin to build and you couldn't help but buck your hips up onto his face and fingers. He took this time to add a third finger which made you delirious with pleasure.The third finger entered you stretching your fluttering hole, mixing pain and pleasure till they were indistinguishable from each other. He felt you clamping down on his fingers and he stopped sucking and began to vigorously rub circles into your clit, the way he knew you loved. You felt yourself getting close and as you're a whimpering mess you began to mutter "Kou don't stop, please"

He had a dark look in his eye when he spoke "cum for me baby, you can do it. And just like that you allowed yourself to come undone all over his magical hands and face. "Good girl" was what he said as you came. He helped you ride out your orgasm as he whispered sweet praises to you.

You were catching your breath as you came down from your high. By the time you were back, you looked at bokuto and he had already completely undressed and he had his back against the headboard. He was stroking himself as he watched you with half lidded eyes and a devilish grin on his face.

"You didn't think we were done, did you baby?"

"Of course not" You said as you put your nail between your teeth with a grin.

"Come here angel" he said as he gestured for you to join him.

You crawl over and you place yourself on top of him. You knew he loved when you rode him. You lowered yourself onto him slowly. You adored how full you felt with him inside you. You gave yourself some time to adjust to the stretch and then slowly started to move up and down. You began to pick up pace and ride him with more rigor. He watched you in awe with his hands on your hips guiding you up and down on him. He thought you were so beautiful riding him.You desperately chasing your high and using his body for pleasure was a sight he was incredibly fond of. He got off on knowing nobody would see you that way but him. He admired how beautiful you looked doing something so lewd. Tits bouncing around, your face contorted in pleasure, your lips parted as the moans escaped your mouth.

He then took you and flipped you over so you were on your back. It was his turn to take charge and set the pace. He kissed your temple as he slipped into you. Kou wasted no time in picking up his pace. His vicious thrusts leaving you a babbling mess. You felt yourself begin to close your eyes as you whimpered out his name and he grabbed your face and held your cheeks in his hand. He said "open your eyes baby, look at me".

You did as he said and looked into his eyes as he rutted against you. You were moaning his name when he put his hand over your mouth and said "shh shh baby listen"

You were initially confused at what he was talking about but then when you listened you heard the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching and gushing around his length as he fucked into you. Your cheeks redden as you got a little embarrassed. Boktuo looks down at you with a shiteating grin and says "listen to that angel, you're fucking dripping wet for me". You were a muttering mess, all you could say was "yes kou yes, just for you. Only you could fuck me like this". That's one thing about Bokuto, he adored being praised by you. You took advantage of this and you began to whisper into his ear. "You're so good to me baby, you're doing so good. Please don't stop kou please"

He maintained his pace and looked up to you. "You're close baby?". You nod quickly and dug your nails into his back, leaving crescent moons in their wake as you begged for more. He let out a groan and said "me too" as he fucked into you. He started to rub circles into your clit and he picked up his pace. He fucked you into the mattress and he felt your hole spasming around him, it felt like your pussy was sucking him in even more than he thought possible. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you begged him to let you cum. He felt you clench onto him and said "cum with me baby, be a good girl and cum with me angel". You immediately came undone leaving you shaking and panting under him. The view of you destroyed and fucked out was enough to push him over the edge. With the last few sloppy thrusts bokuto moaned your name as he came. Leaving you kisses along your neck as he painted your insides white.

You both were catching your breath as he peppered your face with kisses. He went to the bathroom to get a wet rag to clean you off with. He wiped you down with delicate and sweet touches. You both went under the covers and he held you in his arms. He began to play with your hair as you began to fall asleep.You kissed his hand and said "goodnight kou, i love you". Then he gave you one last kiss to your temple and a tight hug. He whispered into your ear saying "goodnight baby, thank you for the lovely evening. I love you so much."

The both of you falling asleep in eachothers warm embrace. Kou couldn't have asked for a better homecoming.

[remakethestars]

Being Damian Wayne's Twin Sister Would Include:

Headcanons.

❝Exactly. I don't ask my dog to drive, and I don't ask the Justice League to solve my problems.❞

— Damian Wayne, Adventures of the Super Sons #9: Showdown on Hexworld

TRIGGER WARNING: Cursing, (Damian’s) death. Mentions of toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny, nightmares, blood, knives.

Headcanon masterlist.

When people ask you, “So, which one of you is the evil twin?” Damian always glowers, and you always motion to him.

You look disturbingly alike when only your eyes are showing; Damian’s got long lashes. Talia taught you a good tactic for tag-teaming in combat as kids was to pull up your hinged balaclavas and make the enemy think there was only one of you, that they’re seeing double.

Or for one of you to hang back while the other attacks as a distraction before the other knocks them out from behind.

Obviously, this won’t work when the two of you start filling out, but it works when you’re kids. It’s the reason why, even off the field, the two of you usually wear a matching outfits with hoods.

You utilize the same methods when she sends you to live with Bruce.

You don the Robin costume just like he does, much to the rest of the Batfam’s confusion (both because they weren’t expecting it and because they can’t tell you apart either), but sticking with the “red” theme, you go by Redstart.

There’s a rumor on the street that Robin V. is a meta that can teleport.

The two of you are freakishly good at mimicking the other’s voice and mannerisms, which makes it even harder for your family.

Jason tells you two about April Fools Day, and you make the most of it. Of course, Damian’s a pain in the a$$ and decides to go around pretending to be you and getting into trouble. You’re banned from the mall, and you still have no idea why. 

The two of you can communicate with just an impassive expression (Dick says it looks like a prime example of twin telepathy to anyone else), but anyone close to you knows sh¡t’s about to hit the fan when the two of you look at each other and smirk.

If it’s something you can’t communicate nonverbally, you use your cryptophasia. 

Cryptophasia is a language developed by twins when they’re learning to talk. Most of them grow out of it, you and Damian decided to keep developing it so it became more of a conlang. No one else has been taught to speak it, and they never will be. It’s for emergencies only.

Sun Tzu’s The Art of War was your Bible growing up, and the two of you call out verses when you fight together and need the other to understand a tactic (you both inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory, so you’ve got it memorized).

When you get too big to pull off the which-is-which game, you make your own costume and become the true Redstart. 

It’s basically Damian’s Robin uniform (the Super Sons’s version is the only one I’ll accept), but the boots and gloves are black, the biceps have a white stripe, the lining of the cape is white (the lining of the hood is black), the gold accents become white, it has a zipper down the front instead of clasps, and the mask becomes black (including the eyes). The waterline of the eyes is white. Like a painted redstart.

If Damian’s into animals, you’re into plants. The two of you find common ground on the fact that pollution sucks, so when you walk Titus, you take a trash bag and gloves with you to pick up litter as you go.

You did not want to go to Jon’s school. 

Not because you don’t like Jon (because you do), but because you know you could run intellectual circles around every one of those snot-nosed brats. 

School is stupid. Especially because the American education system is subpar; everything about it is.

You hardly pay attention in class. You do all of the homework a week ahead of time incase something comes up. Usually you’re doing next week’s homework in class. You’ve written entire papers on your phone in Google Docs in the middle of class to be printed out later.

If you’ve already done everything, Damian’s usually drawing and you’re daydreaming or you’re working on a case on your phone.

The teachers are always trying to catch you not paying attention, but you little sh¡ts can always answer their questions. 

Damian’s closest with Dick, but you’re closest with Tim. You admire his ability to plan ahead (see the entirety of the Red Robin comics), and you know that he’s better than both your father and your grandfather; you want to be as good as him when you grow up.

It takes a long time to wash the toxic masculinity and internalized misogyny our of your head, to learn that your grandfather’s ideas of “strength” were wrong, that it’s okay to lean on someone besides Damian, that you can be just as strong as your brother and still be feminine, that there are acceptable emotions besides anger.

Actually, your father teaches you that anger is more likely to get you killed. He won’t let you go into the field when he knows your angry.

It’s harder to drill out of you than your instinct to kill.

There’s a Lebanese restaurant called Tarbooshes (Teen Titans Special #1) the two of you go to when you’re feeling homesick. They make ox blood soup the same way your mother did, and it’s the only non-vegetarian thing Damian will eat for that very reason.

It’s nice to have a place to go where they know you by name and know what you want when you tell them “the usual.” It’s nice to have a place where you’re not a Wayne or an Al Ghul, where you’re just [Y/N] and Damian.

You disappear for an hour on your birthday to eat there. Bruce has asked you were you go, but you kept that between the two of you. 

Speaking of birthdays, you’re eleven minutes older than him. He was six pounds and ten ounces (Batman & Robin #0?), and you were a solid seven.

After Damian died, you go to Tarbooshes to feel close to him.

You were doing all right with the no-killing thing until the night Damian died.

Heretic never stood a chance.

He looked so much like Damian it gave you nightmares, though. Nightmares where you killed your twin brother and woke up sobbing.

Damian didn’t give you a speech in his last moments. He just looked over at you and said in your cryptophasia, “I’m sorry.” 

Not “I love you.” Not “Take care of them for me.” You knew that; you’d do that. He didn’t have to tell you, and he didn’t have to ask.

Just “I’m sorry.” Sorry that you were the one that was left behind.

It’s one thing to lose a family member, to lose a friend, or to lose a lover. It’s another to lose half of your soul.

The two of you had always feared you would die apart. It had always been a possibility; you weren’t stupid enough to think, “It’ll never happen to me.” Because it definitely could. 

And it had.

You wanted to run away from everything. Even just for a while. Go to one of your safe houses in London or France or whatever and just — you didn’t know — stare at the wall until you felt better? But you’d made that unspoken promise to Damian — “I’ll take care of them for you; don’t worry.” — to take care of Titus and Catfred and Jerry and Batcow and Goliath, to take care of Alfred and Bruce and Dick and Jason and Cassandra and Tim, to take care of Jon and Colin and Maps.

You avoided the cave. And if you had to go down there for some reason, you refused to look at the Robin suits.

Dick noticed. He asked if you wanted them taken down, even just for a while. You gave him a look like he was nuts and said, “No.”

Jon was a mess. More of a mess than you were, somehow. 

You’d shown up at the Kents’s. Jon was out doing Superboy things with Clark and Conner. Lois was the only one home.

You nearly scared her out of her skin when you materialized behind her and asked, “Is Jon home? It’s important.” 

He had to know first. He deserved to.

For all he put up with from you two, he deserved to be the first to know when one of you was f*cking dead.

Lois, of course, bless her heart, had the mom instincts to know that you were in no way, shape, or form okay even when you were trying so hard to hold yourself together. She asked you what’s wrong, and it’s what made you break. 

Your lip trembled. “He’s gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“Damian,” your voice broke. “He’s dead.” 

Jon came home to find you in his living room in your Robin uniform, covered in Damian’s and Heretic’s blood, snot running down your lip, sobbing in his mothers arms and knew what happened without having to ask. He did anyway.

When you and Jon both finally passed out, your Uncle Clark flew you back to the Batcave. No one was in any condition — not even Alfred — so he carried you up to your room; took your boots, mask, cape, and gloves off; and tucked you in. Then he went to find Bruce because there was no doubt he was losing it too.

Bruce doesn’t tell you anything about trying to find a way to bring him back without the Lazarus pit because he doesn’t want to get your hopes up. 

You walk into your room one day to find Damian sitting there reading the dissertation (the requirement was three pages, not 120, but your teacher would just have to deal with your coping mechanisms) you had been working on for your World History class and left up on your laptop while on patrol. 

He said with the utmost indifference, “You’ve made some good points, Sister,” and, of course, you pulled out a knife and attacked him because this was — was — was some shapeshifting alien or hologram tech or a cruel joke — your twin was dead, this wasn’t funny, whoever did this was going to pay.

He met you blow-for-blow and flipped away from you before saying, “And here I was expecting a warm welcome,” in your cryptophasia. 

“Brother?” 

“Tt. Obviously.” 

Yeah, a college level thesis. You’re smart. You inherited Bruce’s eidetic memory and were raised by assassins.

You learned seven languages and wrote five doctoral theses by the time your teeth came in, wrote your first letter to a newspaper editor when you were two, could’ve had a geology doctorate when you were seven (Super Sons #1), and it only took you a week to learn the language on Takron-Galtos. You’re smart.

You’re also incredibly skilled. You learned to drive when you were five (Super Sons #1), your mother trained you to go for weeks without eating (Adventures of the Super Sons #6), you can micro-sleep for days and converse with half your brain asleep, can use a muscular contraction to move your liver out of the way of a blade (Nightwing #20), and can place yourself in a deep trance to heal damages caused by a hematoma (also #20).

(My dumba$$ didn’t note what Super Sons/Adventure of the Super Sons comic I was reading when I took notes, so I don’t have all of them noted in the two above bullet points. But that’s where they’re from. If I end up rereading them, I’ll edit this and add the comic numbers.)

The first time on patrol you thought Bruce was gonna die, you called him Baba. 

The next evening, when Dick came to visit the cave, he turned to you and Damian and asked, “So, which one of you called him Dad?” 

“How’d you know?” you asked. 

“He’s smiling the way he did the day I called him Tati.”

“He’s not smiling,” Damian pointed out.

“He is on the inside.”

Can we talk about how royally the Arkham Knights game screwed up Tim Drake? (Though, everything seems to screw up Tim one way or another, I guess.) Why does he look like a quidditch player in the gif above the cut?

Visit my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ I’m a dumb white American, and I don’t know much about Arab or Romani culture other than what I’ve learned online. I hope I got it right?? If I didn’t, please drop a comment or P.M. me or something to let me know!

[blackbat05]

I need a break

Shangqi x Reader (Platonic) 

A/N: I feel like I’m loosing steam towards the end of my placement and wow I have never needed a break this badly before. Perhaps a short Shangqi x Reader imagine where they are both University students. Seriously at this rate I’ll just be solely a Shangqi writer HAHAHA. Doing this on my phone because I don’t want to open my work computer. Let’s see where this impromptu idea takes me to. Hope you enjoy it and as always like and comment if you wish!

Genre: PG-13

Warnings: None really, just friends supporting each other! I guess there’s an inaccurate timeline if you look at the MCU but hey this is an imagine plus if you look at some of the wiki pages, Shangqi is actually born in 1998/1999. So appreciate if you’re kind enough to go with the flow to read this comfort fic! 

‘Y/N!’ Shangqi rushes to catch up with you after class. You made an effort to conceal your tiredness but he saw it right through. ‘Gosh…you alright?’

You think to yourself. Were you really alright? The answer was pretty obvious. You were ten weeks into your placement and your emotions were a jumbled up mess. Having to deal with work responsibilities was one problem, school assignments were another issue all together. At this point, you felt like you were just getting through each week for the sake of it.

At first, you believed that what you were going through was simply a transition to becoming an adult. You thought that naturally, you would be able to persevere through the stressful periods by yourself. But of course, it has been hard.

You were a social work intern at a neighborhood youth centre, thirty minutes away if you took the train and bus. The work was fulfilling in it’s own ways, but recently there were self-doubts filling your brain, if you were really cut out for the job in the future. If you weren’t, what else could you do?

As you sat with Shangqi in the school’s student-ran cafe, you found yourself pouring out the exact same concerns to him. Credit to him, Shangqi never interrupted your monologue, he just simply listened. That’s what best friends were for. That’s what you did for him to when he ran into issues with his family.

Even then, he couldn’t deny that hearing you doubt yourself broke his heart. He had known you since high school. You mostly kept to yourself and one or two close friends. Despite joining the school’s athletic team where you were one of the main athletes, you preferred to stay in the shadows unlike some of your teammates. That didn’t stop you from going out of your way to help other students in need; like helping the girl who was in an arm cast to copy the social studies notes, even if it meant you had to do it twice. Or maybe just talking to a friend who was stressed out about their results.

Basically, you had studied your ass off to get a secured spot at this university who were only one of the few that offered the degree. He remembers you telling him the moment you got your offer, ‘I’m finally good at something. I don’t have to worry anymore!’

Shangqi wasn’t stupid. The pandemic had done some crazy things. And by crazy, it affected the self-esteem that you had been working so hard on by participating in various projects and events, with you being in charge of a drama production that was promoting on mental health. That was a big deal considering that you were a major introvert.

Online engagement was never easy. In fact he has heard some of your struggles that you’ve shared with him regarding this and it only makes him admire you even more. For someone who preferred to keep to themselves, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, to take on a role that wasn’t just simply about helping people - that took guts.

‘I’m sorry I’m just loading you with all this. I just feel…’ You trailed off, suddenly becoming emotional again. Again, Shangqi does not pry. ‘That I can’t do anything right.’ You emphasize that you had ended the statement for you were unsure that you could keep your cool if you had tried to continue on.

‘If I hear you saying sorry another time,’ he chides, ‘you’re paying for our meal later.’ Your lips curved upwards slightly before returning to its somber position. Shangqi decides that a meal won’t cut it. He needs to deploy ‘Operation Y/N’. Standing up with your buzzer to collect the food, Shangqi whips out his phone. There will be a few changes for today.

Food was definitely a cure in this situation, but it was only a part of the solution. After inhaling your ramen at light speed, Shangqi tells you that today will be a different Friday. ‘And you can’t complain! It’ll be a weekend tmr,’ he tells you. So why not? You figured that even if you went back home early, your head wouldn’t be in the right place to complete the essay for your English module.

‘Hold up! The VR studio that Katy was talking about?’ You look at the tickets inside the taxi that was taking you and Shangqi to the location. ‘How did you even, it was so hard to get these tickets!’ From the time Shangqi met you outside the classroom, he had yet to see you so ecstatic. Until now.

‘Well,’ Shangqi gives his best shrug. ‘I called in a favor from a friend. Said that it was for emergency purposes.’ He raised his fingers to make connotations in the air much to your amusement.

‘Wow… just how much do I not know about you Mr Popular?’ You teased. Shangqi decides to leave the fact on him having to persuade the Wakandan Princess in giving him free tickets.

‘Please! I swear whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it! It’s for Y/N!’

‘Ey well why didn’t you say so? If it’s for that nice friend, of course!’ Shuri leaves the entrance of the compound, an exasperated Shangqi trailing behind.

Yeah, the VR studio that Katy told them about was also funded by King T’Challa himself. With stunning life like visuals thanks to Wakandan technology, the VR studio was located in a middle class neighborhood. T’Challa believed that no matter where kids came from, they should have the right to enjoy and to explore the world. For now, he wasn’t ready to share that he was on the way on becoming a full-fledged Avenger yet - you just had too much on your plate. He’ll just have to settle with this white lie.

‘Is Katy coming?’ You were on the verge of vibrating off your seat. ‘She would love this place!’ Even when you were struggling, Y/N still manages to think about other people. Today, Y/N will put her needs first.

As if to answer your previous question, you can see an equally excited Katy waiting for the two of you at the roundabout. ‘HEL-LO EVERYONE! LET’S GET OUR FRIDAY STARTED IN PROPER SHALL WE?’ Her loud voice had attracted stares, some very displeased looks too but at this point in time, you didn’t give a damn. Katy was right, it was time to enjoy!

You wished that you could slow down time, or even replay it continuously when you needed cheering up because the only thing you felt was pure happiness - euphoria even. Your stomach was in knots for laughing hysterically together with Katy when Shangqi jumped in shock from a surprise scare from a zombie. ‘I’m keeping that for leverage,’ she tells you, quietly slipping her phone into her fanny pack. 

The Wakandans had really outdone themselves this time. Your favorite VR was the paradise VR. Slipping the headgear, you say goodbye to the smiles of Katy and Shangqi, whisking away to a beach that oddly reminded you of your dream destination - Hawaii. From where you were standing, you were surrounded by green and majestic islands. Despite their sheer size, you weren’t intimidated. In fact, you were healing. 

Your mind was no longer in the room of the VR studio. How could it when the sun kissed your skin, giving you the much needed energy that you were lacking for so long? In the room, the two sees you kick your shoes to the side, going barefoot. It may have seem strange, but with the monitor beside you, your actions were perfectly logical. 

As a kid, you used to despise the prickly feeling of sand in between your toes. But now, you grew to love the sensation that each grain of sand had on your skin. It made you feel grounded, that everything was going to be ok. You raise your virtual hand to touch your face - were you crying? 

‘She must have been really stressed huh?’ Katy whispers to Shangqi who nods in return. How he hated the fact that you were giving so much to your work but still felt underappreciated. Forget the Avengers with superhuman abilities, you were the true MVP. The VR ends and you remove your headgear. ‘I’m ok,’ you automatically reassure them despite the dry tears left on both cheeks. You step down the platform slowly, trying to regain sense of the real world. 

What you didn’t expect was the two embracing you in a hug, squishing you in between them. Maybe that had set off the waterworks. For someone like Katy, she had sage advice.

‘Life can be pretty shitty right? But I’m so proud of you fighting it Y/N. Just remember that it’s ok to be weak. I mean, I’ve seen worse from Shangqi,’ she jabs her finger towards his direction, earning a glare from him. That’s Katy, always trying to add a bit of humor to this grey world. Calming down, you let go of the both of them. ‘Thanks guys, for everything.’ 

‘Hey,’ Shangqi responds, slinging his arm over your shoulder. ‘We’re friends, so we don’t leave each other behind.’ Phone beeping, he retrieves it to check the message. ‘And look at that, nice timing. Who wants Korean BBQ?’ 

Trailing behind them, you get an amusing view of Shangqi bickering with Katy on how many Soju bottles she’s allowed to order later. As San Francisco welcomed the night, you were just thankful that you had the two of them to walk through this crazy maze called life. 

‘Last one to the shop is paying!’ 

‘Oh you’re on Mister!’  

A/N: I really just think that this was also an imagine for me to cope too. So I can only hope to finish my placement/assignments/exams well! To anyone who does studies and work simultaneously, I fucking respect you (allow me to use expletives for now, these people deserve the respect). If you’re going through a stressful time, I hope this brings the slightest comfort for you and remember… YOU ARE NOT ALONE! Again, thank you for reading!