#Yes the cable is plugged in. Before you say anything

[katamarigender]

CANT PPLAY ANY ROCK BAND THE PS3 ISN'T CONNECTING TO THE TV :(((((

#HUGE LOSS #the ps3 is turnijg on but theres no aufio/videooo...... sad!!!! I just want to look at my wolfboy. And his wonderful band. #my stuff #Never have i wished for rockband4. on the ps4. so badly. #Yes the cable is plugged in. Before you say anything

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven: The Siege

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 6.7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, blood, massive angst, PTSD, some wholesome moments but still mainly sad

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The Crest while usually silent was void of anything, no conversation, no laughter from the child’s behavior, no words of Mando’a taught, nothing. It was as if no one was even on board the ship. Din stood in the hull looking in on the hole in the wall speaking to the child, “All right, let’s try this again. Okay, did you… Do you have the wire?” He speaks to the child who stands in the small compartment trying to fix the damage though he doesn’t fully understand.  “Okay. Did you get the wire out? The red wire?” The child looks at the board of wires his small hands moving to pull out the blue wire,

“No, no, no. No, the red one. Show me the red wire. The red one.” Din points at the red wire and the child uses his other hand to grab the red wire, “Yes, good. Now, you’re going to plug that red wire where the blue wire goes into the board.”

The child looks back at Din confused then back to the board, “Put the red wire where the blue wire goes in the board, okay? But don’t let them touch. You see where you took the blue one off? Yes, now put the red one…” The child moves the red wire toward the blue port before putting the blue one make and Din shakes his head trying to explain to the child.

“No, don’t put the blue one back. Put the red one where the blue one was. And put the blue one where the red one was. But be careful.” Din warns the child as he brings the wires back towards the board, “They’re oppositely charged, so keep them away from each other. Make sure you hold them apart from… No, hold them apart.” A spark of electricity crackles as the two cables touch shocking the child. Smoke appears from the hole as Din looks in, “Oh… Are you okay?”

A cough of smoke comes out of the child’s mouth as it whines, holding his hands out he pulls the kid from the hole looking down at him, “Well, it was worth a shot. There’s no way we’re making it to Corvus in this shape. I think we need to visit some friends for repairs. So, how’d you like to go back to Nevarro?” The child coos in excitement and it’s decided. Footsteps from the cargo hull to say the glimpse of you retreating into the hull. To say things have been tense would be an understatement, follow the fight you hardly interacted with him. You avoid the cockpit at all costs, you’ve been holed up in the cargo hull even sleeping there despite it not having heating there. You kept your distance and it hurt him.

You had heard the end of his one-sided conversation with the child about returning to Nevarro so you settled yourself in the area you dedicated for yourself in the cargo hull. Your cot had been set up with some extra blanket your weapons and your satchel with the jedi texts. Since you lost a source of conversation you spent your time reading the books or just focusing on the force. In the books jedi mediated to reconnect themselves to the force, stronger users could connect with other jedi across the galaxy or even with jedi who were no longer alive. You had tried as the books described it but you either got nothing from it or this dread feeling that made you stop meditating. You felt the ship descend towards what you assume is Nevarro and you grab your blaster and knife holster them and attach your saber to your belt. You heard the doors to the ramp open up as you exit the hull where you see Din speaking to Greef who is holding the child dressed in new more regal clothes and Cara in her armor that looks fixed up.

“Ah, and there is the other one I assume your travels with Mando have been well?” Greef says as you can feel Din’s gaze through his helmet burning into your skin. You nod trying to hide your awkwardness from the question.

“Never a boring day..” Your comment makes Greef laughs as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you toward the city.

Freeing yourself from Greef’s hold you take in the bustling streets with people and trade, smiles on their faces, unlike the grimness of bounty hunters or the empire. ”Looks like you two have been busy.” Din notices the change as well.

“I myself have been steeped in clerical work. Marshal Dune here is to be thanked for cleaning up the town.” Greef says and you look over at Cara who has a proud look on her face from the title.

“Your ship’s not lookin’ too good.” Cara mentions and Din nods, “I had a run-in with the New Republic.”

“They should leave the Outer Rim alone. If the Empire couldn’t settle it, what makes them think they can? Here we are.” Greef says leading you to the former cantina where you were pinned down by Gideon and the empire.

“I’m surprised to see this place is still standing.” You say looking at the fixed windows and the door that’s not blasted in. Greef smiles motioning you all inside, “Wait till you see inside.” The sight of children all sitting at desks surprises you as a protocol droid teaches the class,

“Who can name one of the five major trade routes in the galaxy? Anyone? How about the Corellian Run?” A young boy raises his hand before speaking, “The Hydian Way?” “Yes, the Hydian Way. That is correct.”

“A school?” Din says as you all stand to the side looking at the class that didn’t seem disturbed by your sudden appearance. You look over the children all of them young before you spot one child, a girl looking at you. She sits in the middle rows where the once cantina tables were. Her hair is just loosely done up her eyes wide as she looks over you her eyes see the weapon on your belt and almost awe and excitement cover her face. You smile lightly at the child and she grins waving shyly before facing forward. You look around at the classroom it looked nothing like the cantina before. A hand on your shoulder from Cara pulls you from your thoughts as you leave and give a small wave to the child who sits in the front row.

The center was filled with stands for goods and trinkets to be sold, “Things have changed since you’ve been here but it’s always good to have you return.” Greef explains to you and Din as you make your way out of the square. A loud crash fills the air and the e-web ammunition box explodes the fire and heat scorching your skin. The gunfire is loud in your ears as a blaster shot past you. Panic and adrenaline rush through you as your heart pounds loudly in your ears. The fighting and the screams around you are deafening and appearing from the flames was Moff Gideon the blaster in his hands dropping to the ground as he moves for something attached to his belt. Your hand moves to your saber to attack when a hand grips your wrist tightly.

“Kid!” Din’s voice breaks through all the noise and everything is normal, no fires, there are no signs of fighting, and no Moff Gideon. Your hand jerk forward to try to activate your blade but Din’s hand stops you, “Breathe kid…hey listen you gotta breathe..” His voice is clear as you gasp for air and you see Cara and Greef looking at you in concern for you suddenly trying to fight. Your pounding heart settles and you see that the noise was the cart of metal items crashing against each other.

“Kid?!” Din calls out to you and you notice his grip on your wrist and you pull away as if he burned you. Your hand holds your saber in a deadly grip looking at the three adults that were still looking at you in concern almost speaking to each other silently.

“I’m fine..” You breathe out forcing yourself to holster your saber though you still felt like he would appear around the corner. The three of them look at you each with their worries as you look away from them your hands balled into fists trying to put your focus somewhere else, “I’m fine really.” You nod trying to prove to them but also to yourself. You weren’t sure how long they were watching you until Greef nods before making his way to his office, Cara glances at you before joining Greef. You walk behind her, your eyes darting to where Moff Gideon stood his hands moving towards something attached to his belt. Stop it that wasn’t real. Your safe you’re fine. Din keeps his eyes glued to your retreating figure trying to understand what had just happened.

Entering Greef’s office you hear a man’s voice. “There’s no registration on the ship, but I’m pretty sure it belongs…” His voice trails off seeing Din following behind you three and fear covers his face.

“I believe you two have met.” Greef looks at the two of them and Din nods, ”I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Right back at ya.” The blue man responds fearfully. “Mythrol here’s taken care of my books since he was a pollywog. But then he disappeared one day after a bit of creative accounting.” Greef says and Mythrol nods.

“Magistrate Karga was generous enough to let me work off my debt. Thank you, by the way.” He says indebted to the human who shrugs, “Three hundred and fifty years, but who’s counting?”

Din nods looking at his former bounty, “Well, if he runs off on you again, let me know.” “Let me assure you, I do not wanna spend any more time in carbonite. Still can’t see outta my left eye.” Mythrol promises while putting a hand up to his eyes remembering the cold from the carbonite.

“Can we talk business?” Cara says and Din gives her a look. “I’m only here for repairs.”

“Which’ll take a while. Which means you’ll have free time on your hands, right? And we could really use your help.” Greef points out and Din knows he wasn’t going to refuse.

“Help how?” A map is pulled up of the planet, “This is Nevarro. We’re here. This entire area’s a green zone. Completely safe. But over on this side is the problem.” Cara points at the green area and then focuses on a small red area or the map, “It’s an old Imperial base. It’s where all those troops came from when we defeated Moff Gideon. This base has been here since the Imperial expansion. It’s got a skeleton crew, but for some reason, it hasn’t been abandoned.”

“There’s a lot o’ heavy weaponry in that place the black market would love to dismantle and get their hands on,” Greef says looking at the imperial base with disdain and you look at the base of it as well,

“And you wanna mop up the last of the Imperial force before they do.” You say and Greef nods before turning to the man,

“Mando, I just want them off my planet. If we could take out that one last base, Nevarro would be completely safe. We could be a trade anchor for the entire sector.” Greef begs and Cara adds, “And the planet would finally be free.”

Din looks over the map, “What are we looking at?”

“The whole base is powered by a reactor. We sneak in, overload the reactor, and get the hell outta there.” Greef explains as you travel by speeder toward the imperial base. You were inside the vehicle before Din could give any comment about you not going on this mission.

“Let’s be fast. And keep the speeder running.” Din warns you all as you travel over the lava flats of Nevarro. Coming up ahead through the canyon was the large base, “There it is, right there. You see it?” Greef points up at it resting along the edge of the canyon.

“How close you want me to drop you off?” Mythrol asks nervously being this close to a potential fight, “How ’bout the front door?” Greef comments and Mythrol gives him a look of fear,

“It’s a little close for a civilian, don’t you think?” Greef looks at him, “I got two choices for ya. You take us in and I knock a hundred years off your debt.”

“Or?” “Or I leave ya out here in the lava flats to walk home with whatever’s left in your humidity vest.” Mythrol sighs his options limited,

“It’s not much of a choice, is it?” You arrive in front of an elevator that leads to the base, you all climb out beside Mythrol, “All right. We can’t go any further than this.”

“Controls are useless. They’re melted.” Cara huffs looking at the melted panel, “Well, it’s probably not rated for lava.” Your comment which makes Greef grimace at the base,

“Imperial trash.”

“All right, I’m headed back. Hit me up on the comm, we could set up a rendezvous time.” Mythrol says starting up the vehicle but Greef points his finger at him, “You park your gills right there until I say otherwise.”

“I’m startin’ to dehydrate, boss.” The aqua man whines, “Okay, how does 30 more years off your debt sound?” Greef offers and the man sighs once again,

“Can you at least be quick about it?” “You wanna be quick? Grab the flange cutter and help us out.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t like leaving my speeder like this, just so you know.” He climbs out of the vehicle while you all stand waiting for him, “Come on, hurry it up.” Greef rushes him as he pulls out an item from the speeder,

“All right, I’m coming.” He responds before coming to the door and starting to cut the door open. “Hurry up.” Greef rushes him as he barely has gotten an inch done. The sound of a jetpack and you see Din rocket up to the platform leaving you all behind. The crackling of electricity as he cuts through the metal door.

“How long is this gonna take?” Cara asks and Mythrol turns away from his work, “Look, lady, this is rated for light plumbing and such. You’re lucky I even packed it at all.” He turns back continuing his small work and you sigh before stepping forward,

“Step aside,” “Step aside? Why would I need t-” Your saber ignites with a howl and he barely moves as it digs into the door and you start carving your way in much faster than Mythrol had been.

“That’s a…” Mythrol says in awe, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Greef comments looking surprised at the weapon. A large thud as a stormtrooper lands on the ground as you finish cutting through the door. You step inside holstering your saber and looking at the three.

“Come on.” Greef enters followed by Cara who pauses looking at Mythrol still standing away from the door, “Are you comin’ in or what?”

“I’ll take my chances here, but thank you.” He says and Cara warns him and he suddenly looks frightened, “Well, when the lava tide comes in, give us a holler. We’ll drop you a rope.” He quickly enters and the four of you reach the platform, you see the aftermath of Din’s fight as he stands amongst dead troopers,

“Empty base, huh?” He comments and Greef moves past him towards the entrance,

“The reactor should be set in the heat shaft. If we drain the cooling lines, this whole base will go up in a matter of minutes.” You follow the man until Mythrol points at a large armored vehicle, “Look. It’s a mint Trexler Marauder. We can get a lot for this on the black market.”

“And it’s gonna get vaporized like the rest of this base. Now, let’s go.” Din says moving towards the hangar full of speeder bikes and you hear Myhtrol mutter over the lost. You all snuck further into the base Cara entered the command center to take down the officer. You hear faint choking before she waves you all in.

Din moves to the board to mess with the cameras while Greef and Mythrol lot the body, “This will come in handy.” You stay by the entrance standing guard, your hand rests on your saber. Since entering you’ve felt this presence or energy that weighs down on you. It felt dark…evil. Faint whispers call out to you making you look down a long hall.

“I know you’re there…”

His voice echoes out and a hand latches to your shoulder making you jump. Cara looks down at you with your frightened expression, “We’re moving kid.” She says and you nod stepping away from her and start following after the group, you could feel that lingering but the heat almost burned your shoulder. You could picture his hand moving to his belt before you’re back in the imperial base.

You’re suddenly pulled back against the wall and passing by are two stormtroopers,

“Must’ve blown a transformer over there.” “All right. We’ll check it out.” The troopers move further down the hall as you hear them continue to talk,

“Section-Four? TK-1-4-7.” “Scan control has been unreliable since last rotation. Send a technical crew to check it out.” The two disappear around the corner and that’s when you notice it was Din that grabbed you and you quickly pull away. You ignore the man’s gaze on you before he moves towards a door, “There, Mythrol, slice that door.”

“Use the code cylinder,” Greef adds as Mythrol moves to the door pulling out the cylinder and putting in the port the door opens the heat of the lava warming you all as you step inside.

“Whoa!” Mythrol yells out seeing the bubbling lava many feet below, “Yeah, “whoa” is right. That’s it. Get on the reactor controls, and drain the coolant lines. We’ll watch the doors.” He points to the panel and Mythrol looks at the panel and then at the group.

“Me?” “Yes, you!”

Mythrol looks at the fall down, “I’m afraid o’ heights. And heat. And lava.”

“How ’bout if I put ya back in carbonite? Get over there!” Din threatens him and that kicks him in gear as he moves to the edge that leads to the panel, “There’s no guardrail on this.”

“Come on!” You all shout as he inches his way back and pressed the wall to the panel you could see the clear fear on his face, “Come on, hurry up, hurry up. Hurry up!” Greef yells at him and he turns to clutch the wall with shaky hands pulling out the cylinder and inserting it. Accessing the control console there are so beeps before a large alarm starts going off,

“All right, she’s gonna blow. Let’s go! Let’s get outta here!” You yell as Mythrol scrambles back to safety as you rush out of the reactor core,

“How long do we have?” Cara asks as you race through the halls,

“Ten minutes at the most,” Mythrol says. The alarm blares as you narrowly dodge a trio of troopers passing through the hall “5-3-8-7 and 5-3-8-9, follow me. Call in reinforcements!” Once they pass you all take off through the corridors. Entering a room you see a pair of men standing in front of a control panel,

“Hurry up, purge the drives. Destroy it!” One of them yells out pulling out a weapon and shooting at the panel slightly and at you guys. Din quickly shoots the one man trying to wipe and he slumps over the panel the second one tries firing when his blaster is ripped from him and he gasps for air his hands moving to his throat. The four adults look over at you with your hand held out in a grip-like gesture as you watch the officer before your gaze moves to the wall.

“What the…” You whisper and the others look at the walls, several tanks containing deformed beings none of them looking in any form alive.

“I thought you said this was a forward operating base.” Cara says looking at the glass and Greef looks confused as well, “I thought it was.”

Cara shakes her head before turning towards the panel and the man, “No, this isn’t a military operation. This is a lab. We need to get into the system and figure out what’s going on.” You look at the man you have captive.

“Do it.” You order him and the scientist glares before spitting at your feet, “I’d rather die.” He snarls before gasping harder his face going red.

“That could be arranged.” You remark and Din looks over at you surprised by your comment. “Calm down kid,”

Cara looks over at Mythrol motioning for him to do it, “What about the reactor…” He asks

“Do it! Do it.” She orders and he moves to the panel passing by the scientist who glares at him and then moves the dead body off the panel, “Pardon me.”

“I don’t like this.” Din comments as Mythrol works on getting into the system. Suddenly a transmission appears via hologram as the same doctor from Nevarro stands speaking,

“Replicated the results of the subsequent trials, which also resulted in catastrophic failure. There were promising effects for an entire fortnight, but then, sadly, the body rejected the blood. I highly doubt we’ll find donors with a higher M-count, though. I recommend that we suspend all experimentation. I fear that the volunteer will meet the same regrettable fate if we proceed with the transfusion. Unfortunately, we have exhausted our initial supply of blood. The Child is small, and I was only able to harvest a limited amount without killing him. We were able to gain more amounts from the girl but it still wasn’t efficient. If these experiments are to continue as requested, we would again require access to the donors. I will not disappoint you again, Moff Gideon.” The air grows cold hearing that name spoken as the transmission ends.

“This must be an old transmission. Moff Gideon is dead.” Din says but his voice sounds far away. This couldn’t be real. He‘s dead you saw it with your eyes, the Tie-fighter went down in flames. No…he couldn’t be alive. His hands move to his belt, the fire, the explosions…all of it. 

“No. This recording’s three days old.”

He’s here…right now.

Din’s blood runs cold as the news hits him, “If Gideon’s alive then…” The loud choking fills the air and the four adults look at the scientist clutching his throat his face was turning blue, and the blood vessel in his eyes popped and bleeding. The veins on his arms and neck bulge as he tries to breathe. Din’s head snaps over to you standing there. You’re still staring ahead your eyes glossed over lost in your head and your hand closing into a fist.

“Kid! Stop it, kid,” Din yells moving to you grabbing your shoulders shaking you but you barely register the feeling so lost in your head. Moff Gideon was alive. The child…you. He’s going to find you, he already knows you’re here. It was too hot, why couldn’t you breathe? Your heart was hurting, your fingers were digging into your palm hard enough to break the skin.

His hand moves to the belt and then there’s pain.

A loud crack fills the air and air rushes back into you making you fall over but Din catches you before you could hit the ground. The lights were bright and everything was loud. It wasn’t until Din’s voice pulls you from your head finally.

“Deep breathes kid okay, haalur par ni.”(Breathe for me) He says and your gaze moves past the beskar helmet and you see the man. His neck is contorted at an angle that is not natural a fear-stricken look on his face, his lifeless eyes staring back at you.

You did that...

“Over there!” A voice shouts out and a blaster fire is blocked by beskar, “I need you to move kid, okay?” He says holding your face to make you look at him and only him. You killed him…you’ve never killed anyone like that. You didn’t know you could do something like that. Din helps you to your feet as the final trooper drops dead.

“I need to get the kid,” Din says needing to go check on the safety of the child but at the same time wanting to stay and look after you. Your arms leave his hands and your face is calm as you pull off your saber, “Just go Din.” You don’t even look at him when you speak this being the first time since your fight. He can see the fear and anger on your face and your hand a death grip on your saber.

Din looks over at Cara who nods, “Jet back, you’re faster that way. We’ll head to the speeder and meet you in town.” Din hesitates but the look Cara tells him she has her makes him leave. He gives you one final look before taking off through the hall and blaster fire starts.

You go to move but Cara’s hand grabs your bicep, “You alright kid, I need you focused.” She says look over you and you nod stepping away from her.

“I’m fine Cara…let’s get out of here.” You say and a howl emits from your saber the orange blade coloring your face you turn and start down the hall leaving the three to witness the massacre ahead of them. The three adults had just exited the room to see you violently swing your saber it cleaving a trooper’s head off. You used two hands as you attacked the unsuspected trooper not even caring where you hit just wanting them dead. It was tunnel vision as you push through the halls with no regard for the adults behind you would cover your blind spots but you only had one thought in mind. Your vision blurred between the halls of the base cutting through troopers or deflecting their bullets to large grand halls. The gunfire surrounds you the bolts not red but blue as they whip past you and you jam your blade into the chest of a trooper but they don’t wear a uniform you’re familiar with. The designs are older with blue accents, the sounds are muffled as you swing your blade and with each attack, you’re brought to and from this large hall.

“You have something I want,”

His voice echoes through the hall, and his hand moves to his belt. A sharp punch floods the side of your body as the orange blade cuts through the arms holding the blaster a scream rips from the trooper's throat their cleaved hands on the ground the wound searing from the weapon. Their screams are silenced as you deliver the killing blow your body heaving as you take in your surroundings. The tunnel vision lifts finding yourself back on the shuttle bay a litter of trooper bodies surrounds you some limbless others with fatal slashes and stab wounds.

“KID!” Cara’s voice yells out and you see the three of them taking on their own troopers. The ache in your side grows worse and you bring your hand to it confused why it was wet, pulling back to see red coat your hand before everything went black.

An earsplitting scream wakes you up as you try to figure out where it was coming from until the strain in your throat makes you realize it’s you who is screaming. Your body locks up as your head slams back on the metal floor, hands press into your side you feel movement under you as well as the sound of blaster fire with multiple voices crying out.

“Oh god, he’s gonna kill me…like dead dead!” Mythrol is above you a fearful expression on his face as he presses into your side. You recoil away trying to get away but he just follows pressing harder and releasing another ear-piercing scream.

“Shut up Mythrol! I swear to the maker!” You hear Cara’s voice yell out and the vehicle you’re in takes a sharp turn causing the two of you to slide and you black out for a few seconds. You gasp for air your hands latching onto Mythrol’s arm before something hits the vehicle shaking it and you cry out as his hands slip off your side quickly scrambling back to your side.

“What happened?!” You hear Cara yell and rapid footsteps until you see Greef now at your side fear covers Greef’s face as his hands rip a long stripe of fabric from his cloak pressing against your stomach and you let out a sharp inhale.

“Turrets busted! Find a medpack now!” He says Mythrol rushes off and Greef takes over as your hands shake. Every inhale and exhale cause more pain, and tears spill past your temples into your hair. Another sharp turn and your eyes roll into the back of your head but a hand smack against your cheek as you look at Greef, “Need you awake kid okay. We’re gonna get you back safe, you’re gonna be fine.” He says and you nod weakly his hands grab yours putting them over your stomach and pressing down on them, “I need you to help keep pressure okay.” He orders and you nod your hands weaker than his as you push your hands down the sharp pain makes you cry and you rip your hands away from you. Greef forces your hands back, his hands on top of yours pressing down as you cry your legs kicking out.

“Where’s that kriffing medpack!” He yells. The TIEs strafe them into the canyon no longer protecting them as Cara forces the vehicle to go as fast as it can go. The city is close to them but the TIEs and their attacks are closer before an attack can kill them off one of the TIEs explode into flames as Cara sees the Razor Crest appear taking the fight from them. The last two follow after the ship as it takes off into the sky as the Mandalorian swiftly controls the ship. Taking to the skies destroying the third TIE fighter before letting the ship fall right towards the last one and destroying it. The Crest lands before the Marauder seeing Cara exiting a stressed looked on her face and smears of red decorating her teal armor. Din looks around confused seeing only her coming out,

“Where’s..” “Mando-” A scream cuts through the air making them freeze in place as his gaze snaps over to the vehicle and another cry has him in motion. He feels bile enter his throat seeing the trickle of blood at the doorway and when he turns he wants to expel the vile liquid in him but forces it back down. Large smears of blood as if someone was dragged and Greef is hovering over someone. Mythrol with his hands and clothes are red, unlike his blue skin pressed against the wall. He shrinks back seeing the Mandalorian’s presence and when Greef moves back the world around him crumbles.

Your skin is lacking color sweat flushes your skin as Greef continues speaking comforting words as your hands and his press against your side. You were decorated in it, all over your side and pant leg, even your face with flecks of it. The rage the need to return and find whoever was responsible to do horrendous things until they were wishing they died faster, but it was fear…the fear that this was your last moments, the last moments with them…with him. That fear took over him. His last words you would remember would be of hate and you would leave feeling unloved when it was the opposite.

“You’re gonna be alright kid,” Greef says to you as you nod your hands weakly under his as he mainly puts all the pressure, you saw the distress in his voice when they couldn’t find a medpack in the vehicle. A new figure appears and your eyes widen seeing the familiar helmet.

“din..”

“Hey you’re fine kid, I’m here you’re fine..” Din says and you nod the pain like waves crashing down on you the need to rest your eyes strong as your eyes flutter but a gloved hand against your face stops that, “Need your eyes open ya hear me? Just keep those eyes focused on me.” He says and you nod his hand though rough from the leather covering it comforting.

“Get to the Crest you have 30 seconds to find the medpack before I get there.” His voice quickly coldly aimed at Mythrol and Cara as they rush off before he looks back at you. “I’m gonna have to pick you up, we’re gonna get you fixed up.” You shake your head frantically trying to pull away the pain grows stronger as your tears stream down your face. “No...no no no.”

“I’m sorry I know, you’re alright cyar'ika,” Din says as he moves to your other side before looking at Greef, “On my call…one…two-” He doesn’t get to three as his arms pull you into the air a scream shatters his heart as you cry in his arms, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. Cyar’ika you’re doing great.” Each step he takes brings you to the Crest the pain indescribable you’re pretty sure you passed out waking up again on two crates pushed together as Cara pushes up part of your shirt. A shriek rips from your throat feeling something pressing into the wound, your body locks up your hands curl into fists. The muscles and veins in your jaw and neck protrude with how much you are flexing them. The ship shakes the lights flicker a loud creaking sound and a hand covers one of yours.

“Breath kid, you’re alright…shush you’re alright.” Din’s voice is right beside you as he takes your hand, Cara frantically though focused as she pulls out a container of bacta spray, some dressings, and a cauterizer, you hear the mumble of an apology before a searing pain fills you as your scream rips through the Crest. Your legs kick out and Mythrol with Greef grabs them holding them down your upper body curls upwards but Din’s hands pin you back down as sobs wrack from your lungs. Your chest heaving as tears pour down your face Din whispers comforting words as his heart breaks more trying to get you to focus on something else as the bacta spray is applied on you. You’re either gasping for air or holding it in and black spots dot your vision and Din has to force you to breathe or slow your gasps

“Mando.” Cara’s voice makes him look up at the woman seeing her holding the instrument, “You need to make sure she doesn’t pass out.” Din nods looking down at you his hand wiping away the tears from your face still holding you down but he moves to take your hand.

“I need you to listen to me..it’s going to hurt,” The frantic shakes of your head makes him continue while trying to calm you down, “I know I know…You hold my hand and you squeeze as hard as you can scream…cry..but you can’t pass out.” He says and you continue crying,

“I don’t wanna die…please...please I wanna stop…dad.” Your voice slurs slightly and the room grows cold hearing the fearful tone. The way you were certain that you were going to die. But for Din, the one word rings clear in his head, ‘dad.’

“You’re going to be alright..you hear me…you’re not leaving me.” He promises you his hand squeezes tightly on you before he pulls away slightly and you see him rip something off himself and you feel rough skin against your hand and on your face. Your eyes though weak and hazy widen feeling the skin touching yours, the contact of his against yours. You knew the importance of his creed the reason his skin, his face is hidden behind beskar and he just broke a part of it…for you. He squeezes your hand again his other swipes the tears from your cheek the pads of his fingers warm, “You’re going to be alright.”

You weren’t sure how you didn’t pass out from the pain that was unlike anything you could experience, you never wanted this to happen to even your worst enemies. The smell of burning flesh and the heat of a thousand suns as Cara cauterizes your wound, the veins, everything to stop the massive bleeding.

Your screams would haunt Din for the rest of his life but he just kept holding your hand his other pushing back any hair that got in front of you, to wipe away the tears, or to make sure you were still breathing. You felt trapped inside your body as you felt every minute detail of the tool against your skin, feeling it pull away your locked-up body relaxes against the crates your sobs echoing through the hull as Din whispers comforting words. At that moment when your muscles were no longer locked up, no pain surged through your body, and the mental and physical exhaustion you were put through quickly made you fall unconscious.

The Crest is deadly silent your bed and items moved into the main hull where it was properly heated and he could keep a close eye on you, you were asleep in your cot still dressed in your bloody clothes though Cara took a cloth to try to clean you up slightly. The child in its pram resting right beside your bed a sad look on his small face.

In the cargo hull, Din is frighteningly quiet, the aura of the deadly bounty hunter many had feared was here. The sound of footsteps alerts Cara’s arrival and she didn’t get a moment before she’s slammed against the wall by the Mandalorian slightly choked out.

“You said you would keep her safe.” His voice sends chills down the woman’s spine and she doesn’t try to fight back.

“Mando let’s all just take a breather,” Greef says pulling him off her as Cara rubs her hand against her throat. “I know none of this is going to make you feel better but she’s going to be alright.”

“She shouldn’t have been in that position in the first place!” Din yells his now gloved hand pointing toward where you rest.

“You didn’t see what we saw…she was something different.” Cara tries warning him but he turns away.

“Just go.” His word is final as the three look at the back of the Mandalorian. Mythrol leaves first and Cara gives him one last look before exiting the Crest. Din stares at the wall the sound of your screams the blood staining his ship a memory scorched into his mind.

“Mando...I wish you safe travel..” Greef says to the silent bounty hunter before he too departs the ship.

The three watch the Crest depart quickly leaving the planet its coordinates put in for Corvus. Din climbs down from the cockpit spotting the child out of his pram resting beside your side he watches his little hand reach out but Din pulls him away, “I’m sorry kid, there’s not much to do.” The child tries reaching his arms back towards the unconscious girl whimpers coming from him.

“She’ll be alright,” Din says looking down at you resting a pained expression on your face that he wishes to rid of. His words are a promise to the child, to you, and to him. To keep him going, to fight another day to see you alright, to see both his children alright. They were so close just a planet from them both being returned to their kind but he couldn’t ignore the pain in his chest. He would lose the both of you to the Jedi but you would be safe, you’ll be alright.

“She has to be…”

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #clan of three series #din djarin x reader #din djarin x jedi!reader #din x reader #din djarin x teen!reader #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction

[ask-hutcherverse]

i have some questions about this house you guys are in.

did you guys get to bring items from before you got there (derek’s vape and clothing, clapton’s skateboard i think, etc.?)

is the house big? i’m just curious haha

is there a signal to a TV or something? are there books or games of literally anything to do at all?

also can i be 🌈?

:)

clapton has the camera, he’s outside in some kind of yard of the house. its about midday judging by the color of the sky.

“okay so all of these questions are totally valid! we had a lot of the same questions when we got here,” he starts, sitting down of the front steps of the house.

“it’s a pretty big house since it needs to fit all five of us.. 5 bedrooms, and 3 bathrooms because derek hogs one all for himself.” he rolls his eyes. he rubs a bandaid that’s on his temple.

“we all kinda just.. appeared here. no memory of how we got here, but all the memories from our original.. places.” clapton waves his hands around as he tries to find the right words, then uses them to adjust his bangs.

“most of our stuff was here. i have a collection of skateboards and some plug-n-play video games, and that was all here. derek has his vape, futturman has his pc.. the thing is, our house and rooms were completely set up and decorated when we got here!” he says, his eyes wide like he’s talking about a conspiracy.

“it’s crazy, man.”

the front door opens, and peeta peeks out to pass clapton a bag of skittles. “thanks, dude!” peeta nods as he leaves.

“but—“ clapton rips his new bag of skittles. “it’s honestly kinda nice. we don’t gotta pay taxes or anything like that.” he shoves a handful of candy in his mouth. “and our tv has cable! it kinda confused mike and i seeing all the new shows, since where i’m from, it’s still 2011, and for mike it was 2000. peeta was kinda scared since he’d only seen tvs in the context of the hunger games.” he laughs as he remembers.

“but yeah, overall—“ clapton pours the rest of the skittles into his mouth. “ifz phretty goodfh!” he says through muffled speech. he gives the camera a thumbs up and turns it off.

(the video ends)

(and yes you can be 🌈!!)

#josh hutcherson #jhutch #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #mike schmidt #clapton #clapton davis #derek danforth #clapton x reader #future man #peeta mellark #peeta x reader

[generic-sonic-fan]

Team Dark Week: Creation

Summary: After seeing some of the files regarding Shadow’s creation, Omega has something of his own to reveal. For @teamdarkweek.

1890 words, no content warnings

---

“A loud Omega is normal. A quiet Omega is a cause for great concern,” Rouge said as she filed her nails.

“You’re right. He hasn’t been acting like himself since viewing the files.”

“Yeah.”

“He thinks of me differently now, doesn’t he?”

Rouge looked up. “I wouldn’t think so. Why would he care about how you were born?”

“Created.” Shadow corrected. 

“Still. I don’t get how reading The Professor getting all weepy and emotional about you would piss him off. Unless his hatred of Robotniks is generational.”

“I shouldn’t have shown it.”

“Hey, look at me.” Rouge grabbed his hand. “You showed us for a reason. A damn good reason. Let me go talk to him, he might just be pissy about something stupid that’s entirely unrelated.”

“I doubt that.”

Rouge finished filing the nail she was on, before leaving the filing board on the countertop and disappearing into the hallway. She returned with Omega behind her. 

“So what’s got you all snippy, hmm?” She asked him.

“I AM NOT ‘SNIPPY’.” 

“You haven’t said very much since we got back.”

“I REQUIRED TIME TO PROCESS THE INFORMATION SHADOW HAS GRANTED US.”

“Did it anger you?”

“NEGATIVE.”

Shadow and Rouge glanced at each other. 

“YOU SHARED THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF YOUR CREATION SO THAT WE MAY, QUOTE, ‘HELP YOU REMEMBER’.” 

“I did.” Shadow replied.

“WHY WOULD YOU WANT US TO SEE A TIME WHERE YOU FOOLISHLY DID NOT HATE YOUR CREATOR?” 

Shadow took a deep breath. “Because it’s part of who I am. His initial kindness to me and his reason for creating me are things I don’t wish to forget.”

Omega paused. Instead of saying anything more, he turned around and stomped back to his room.

—

At 10:00 PM, Omega yelled “TEAM MEETING.” 

Shadow opened his bedroom door to see Omega standing in the doorway of his own room. Rouge emerged from her room with her headphones around her neck.

“What’s up, Omega?” She asked.

“THERE IS SOMETHING,” Omega paused. His cooling fans whirred higher. “I WISH TO SHOW YOU.”

“Alright.” Shadow replied. 

Omega beckoned them into his room with his hand. It was strange to see him use a gesture instead of words. His room was bare, as usual, with the exception of his power cord and his desktop computer. A data cable snaked out of one of the computer’s ports. Shadow didn’t think Omega owned one, given his distaste for having his processor accessed. 

Omega took the data cable and plugged himself in. The screen’s nuclear explosion background was overtaken by the scrolling data of Omega’s processor. Segments of the data began aligning, until a video player formed on screen. 

“What are you going to show us?” Rouge asked.

“WATCH.”

---

REPLAYING MEMORY LOG _001. . .

---

“Isn’t it magnificent?”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik stood five feet forward, gesturing behind himself in front of two smaller robots, one yellow and one red. 

“Yes, it truly is, master!” The red one crooned.

“I don’t know, seems to be missing a chin, if you ask me.” The yellow one put his hand on his own mentioned appendage. 

“It doesn’t need a chin, you dolt!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik stepped forward and backhanded the faceplate of the yellow one.

The force of contact between the flesh of his hand and the metal of the yellow robot’s chassis was not enough to fracture any bones, but it was enough to burst small blood vessels close to the surface of his epidermis. This constituted an “injury”. It was forbidden for any Badnik to injure its creator. Such insolence must be punished immediately!

Unit E-123 marched forward and snatched the yellow robot by the throat. He quickly calculated that the position of his claws was ineffective for a target that did not require respiration. Unit E-123 had not been programmed to destroy robots beyond information on the basic tolerances of metal plating. He created a new folder in his programs and began compiling data for the possibility, before-

“Hahaha! No need, E-123. Put him down.”

Unit E-123 released his grasp, and the yellow robot fell to the ground before floating away at what he calculated to be the maximum speed it could achieve with its thrusters. The red robot also activated its thrusters and traveled a similar direction. 

“See that?” Dr. Ivo Robotnik came beside Unit E-123’s extended arm. “That lethality? That obedience? Truly I’ve outdone myself this time.”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik placed his gloved hand on Unit E-123’s arm and pressed downwards. Unit E-123 understood the implicit command and returned to a neutral position. He swiveled his head and tilted his optics up to observe Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s face. 

“I certainly solved the particular set of problems that bubbled up from the previous of its series!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik grinned. “Not to mention fit the most superior firepower of my entire army within a single chassis!”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik strolled around Unit E-123’s frame, scanning his eyes up and down. Unit E-123 followed with his optics. 

“Heh, respectful, too! Keeping eye contact, ready to receive any order. Although we’ll see how that changes when its short-term adaptive processing calibrates and we start getting some more intelligent thought up there. . .”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik turned and interfaced with the computer.

“Oh! Seems to have finished calibrating a few minutes ago. In that case,” Dr. Ivo Robotnik whirled around and clasped his hands together, “hello, my creation! Status report?”

“Systems fully operational.” Unit E-123 reported. He then considered his next words for longer. He was a magnificent, superior robot. He should not reply with a basic status report. That was unbefitting of his actual status, evidently!

“Good, good.”

“Status: superior.” E-123 elaborated further. 

“Ha, it even knows!” Dr. Ivo Robotnik said to the red and yellow robots cowering near the door. 

“Indeed,” the red one ventured forward the equivalent of one of Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s strides, “you are quite superior, Unit E-123! You will do the Empire proud.”

“You’re going to get Sonic real good.” The yellow one nodded as well. 

Unit E-123 fired all of its scanners- visual, audial, tactile, chemical, and chaos radiation -to search for any sign of Sonic upon his mention. He found none. The yellow robot must have been referring to the wretched enemy in the hypothetical, a possibility he had not considered before in verbal interactions until now. Unit E-123 noted this for future reference. 

“Ohohoh, if Sonic tries to interfere with the Subject, he’s going to be in for a nasty surprise.”

“This unit will eradicate him!” Unit E-123 affirmed.

“Yes! Yes, you will!”

“He will not withstand the firepower of this unit’s arsenal!”

“Why, you’ll blow him away! There won’t be even a smear of blue left on the wall once you’re done with him.”

“I WILL SHOW HIM MY SUPERIORITY!”

“Augh, not so loud, not so loud,” Dr. Ivo Robotnik lowered his hands from his ears. “While I love your enthusiasm, you’re going to damage my hearing.”

Unit E-123 lowered the volume settings of his voicebox, and to ensure that he would never make such a mistake again, he knit together a program that would create a warning message should he ever be tempted to raise the volume high enough to damage Dr. Ivo Robotnik’s hearing. He patched it over the software that interfaced with his voicebox. 

“Now, speaking of hearing loss, allow me to grab my earmuffs and we’ll head out to the firing range to see how you do.”

Dr. Ivo Robotnik walked to the nearest counter and began searching the drawers, grumbling the phrase “now where did I put them?” as he did so. 

“Drawer label #12, beneath one layer of processed wood pulp.” Unit E-123 pointed to where his scanners had identified the location. 

Dr. Ivo Robotnik opened the identified drawer and retrieved the personal protective equipment. He then smiled back in the direction of Unit E-123. “Well aren’t you just perfect!”

“Affirmative, I am.”

But instead of affirming, Dr. Ivo Robotnik frowned. “Let’s correct that little slippage before it starts to become a problem. You are to refer to yourself as ‘this unit’.”

“Affirmative.”

“‘Affirmative, Master.’”

“Affirmative, Master.”

“Good!” 

---

END OF MEMORY LOG _001

---

Omega unplugged himself from the computer and the video disappeared from the screen.

Shadow was the first to speak. “I have never seen the doctor behave that way.”

“YOU ARE NOT TO SHARE THIS INFORMATION. IF YOU DIVULGE ANY INFORMATION PERTAINING TO THIS MEMORY LOG TO ANOTHER INDIVIDUAL, I WILL KILL YOU.”

“We won’t tell. Of course we won’t tell.” Rouge patted Omega’s forearm. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

“GOOD. COMMENCING DELETION PROCESS. . .”

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not deleting that, are you?” Rouge said.

“NOW THAT YOU HAVE WITNESSED THE FILE, YOU WILL ‘HELP ME REMEMBER’. STORAGE OF THE FILE IS NOW UNNECESSARY.”

“”That’s not-” Shadow balled his fists.

“Omega, you can’t just delete your own memory.” Rouge said.

“HOW DO YOU INTEND TO STOP ME?”

“I’m not going to stop you- I’m just going to tell you that you really shouldn’t do it.”

“YOU HAVE THIRTY SECONDS TO ARTICULATE YOUR ARGUMENT.”

“Because it’s part of who you are. You can’t just run away from the bad things that have happened to you. Deleting this is just going to bite you in the ass later when you get the feeling you’re forgetting something you really should remember.”

“THERE IS NO VALUE TO REMEMBERING THIS REVOLTING EXCHANGE.”

“Well sure, you could hate the man without really knowing him, but remembering a time when he wasn’t a complete self-serving fool helps you hate him even more.”

“YOUR ARGUMENT IS FALSE! MY HATRED FOR EGGMAN WILL NOT BE AFFECTED!”

Shadow stepped in. “Keeping this memory will remind you how far you’ve come.”

“Yeah, you were able to get around all of the fawning the doctor programmed you with! That says more about how strong you are than almost anything else.”

“MY KILL COUNT BEGS TO DIFFER.”

“Strong internally,” Rouge flew up and knocked on his head plating, “which is not something a lot of people could say about themselves.”

Shadow met Omega's optics, stared at the flicker of intelligence behind the glass. “I couldn’t have done what you did.”

Rouge landed. “Hey, knock that off.”

“It’s the truth.”

“YOU DEFIED THE INTENT OF YOUR CREATOR ABOARD THE SPACE STATION ARK.”

“I had Maria.” The room went silent as he said her name, as it always did. “I couldn’t have done it without my memory of her. You had no one but yourself.”

Omega’s frame went still, and his optics defocused. 

“That makes you stronger than I am.” Shadow finished.

Rouge came beside Shadow, waiting and watching for Omega’s next response. She parted, however, when Omega abruptly walked towards the door of his room. 

Before he left, he turned his head over his shoulder. “I AM GOING TO THE TARGETING RANGE.”

“They’re probably closed by now.” Rouge replied.

“THEY WILL NOT BE CLOSED IF THEY WISH TO KEEP THEIR SPINES INTACT.”

“They probably aren’t closed, then.” She snickered. “Let me get dressed and I’ll come with.”

“NEGATIVE.”

“Think about what I’ve said.” Shadow crossed his arms. 

“I WILL NOT COMMENCE THE DELETION TONIGHT.” 

He left. Shadow followed him out into the hall and watched as he shut the apartment door behind him. 

“Do you think he was lying?” Rouge said.

“He trusts us.”

"Seems he does.”

#teamdarkweek #e-123 omega #e123 omega #team dark #shadow the hedgehog #rouge the bat

[averagewriter777]

Ghost and Doc (Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader)

Masterlist

(Part Twenty-Two)

Did y'all miss me? ;) Taglist is closed now!

Due to the time frame that comas involving alcohol usually occured in, you wanted to get your daughter a gift just in case she woke up. You were quite confident in the fact that she would be waking up soon- but who knows really, because Kennedy was in a damn coma.

Before you left the house, you showed the rest of the boys things that they could be doing. You had cable TV and YouTube available. There was also an Xbox 360 plugged into the wall with hundreds of games on it. “MineCraft is fun, why don’t you three play that together? It can be a team-building game, I suppose.”

“So, where are we going, (Y/n)?” Soap asked while staring out the window. It was nice for him to actually be able to look out the window and see the landscape. You know… since they all drive on the left side of the road.

You checked your GPS. “Target. They have some stuff that Kennedy would like there.” When Soap gave you a look of ‘what the hell is a target’ you laughed. “Do they not have one on your side of the world? Oh, that’s depressing. It’s like… er… Walmart?”

Soap nodded, seemingly embarrassed. “Got it.” He drummed his fingers on his thighs, then sighed. “About this morning, you and Ghost… I didn’t--”

“Yes you did,” you interrupted him before he could even say it. Soap shut his mouth real quick. Your fingers around the wheel tightened as you let out a deep sigh. “I’m sure Ghost is a fine man outside of work, but the only person I know him as is… Lieutenant Ghost- okay? He seems to keep his outside life private too, it seems impossible to intrude on that- and I don’t want to intrude on that.” Your shoulders tensed as the light turned red, and knowing this one would last a while, you turned to Soap. “You should know the issue of rank as well, John. No superior can ever be with anyone that is ranked less than them, it’s written in the handbook.”

Damn. It sounded like you had taken a lot of time to consider this, but you made sure to put out that you (sort of) weren’t interested. “Wait- I’m confused. Ignoring rank… would you go after a man like Ghost?”

Ignoring rank… You jumped when someone honked at you and started the drive forward again. “Depends, John. Is Ghost a man who wants someone in his life like that?”

-

You ended up getting her some Pokemon cards, as you were teaching her how to play and trade when she would come over to the house. You also got one of the electronic dogs that a kid would pretend-take care of. The lady that was at the check-out wanted you to have gone to self…

“Awww, is it y’all’s daughter’s birthday? How cute…” Soap muttered something that you couldn’t understand as you just smiled at the woman. “Have a nice day!”

The next trip would be to the hospital. You yourself wanted to talk to the doctor that was taking care of Kennedy, which would leave a little time before talking with the legal team. You gave Soap a mask then put one around your own mouth. 

Shawn and Kiara were not at the hospital- thankfully, so you and technically Soap had the room to yourselves. He took a seat in one of the chairs, fiddling with the pokemon deck not opened with furrowed brows. You were talking outside of the room with the doctor, someone who actually knew what was going on.

“I’m sorry to say that she hasn’t woken up yet, we’re honestly surprised here.” The doctor, Johnson, said while rubbing her arms. “We’re not sure she will wake up at this rate, Ms. (L/n).” Her eyes met yours- and she could see the tears forming.

You knew about the effects of alcohol and children. Their little bodies can’t handle the contents of what’s in the bottle, no matter what. It’s why you told Shawn to get a fucking liquor cabinet and keep alcohol in something that Kennedy couldn’t reach or mess with. “It’s just some alcohol poisoning… she has to wake up.” You turned around to look at your daughter. 

Dr. Johnson left you at that note, saying to press the red button if you needed anything or if anything changed with Kennedy. You walked back into the room and plopped into the chair next to Soap, resting your head on his shoulder. He didn’t pull back, but looked down at you in confusion. “Any… good news?”

“They have doubts about her waking up,” you mumbled. Your watch beeped, indicating that it was 1:50pm. Just ten minutes before the people would arrive. “I’m one of the worst mothers to ever exist.”

Oh god. Soap rubbed your shoulder in reassurance, not sure what to do other than that. “You… You weren’t here so you can’t blame yourself. And your ex-husband just… he doesn’t seem like the brightest individual.” You snorted. “Don’t beat yourself up too hard about it, okay?”

You hummed, then lifted your head from his shoulder. “Thanks, John.” The man nodded then turned his attention to the door, where two people in suits were standing. “Umm… do you mind waiting outside for this? I’ll fill you in. I don’t even think you can be here for this.”

Soap nodded again, then walked out of the room, giving one last look at the situation and your daughter. “Let me know if you need me.” Then the door closed.

You redirected your seat onto the hospital bed next to Kennedy while the two suits took the seats you and Soap had. They took out a folder from a briefcase, cleared their throats, then sighed. “(Y/n) (L/n), I presume?”

A/N: Fun fact about you in this story. What helps you cope with things is comfort. It's why you're so touchy :)

Part Twenty-Three

Taglist: @redpool, @calicokitkat, @abbiesxox, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @tescomealdeals-blog, @judachoo, @cabreezer0117, @reiya-djarin, @cutiecusp, @m0chac0ffee, @cassie-vizsla, @seasaltt99, @lazy-kari202, @comedinewithmeyeah, @somnibats, @badpvn, @peachy-is-obsessed, @bookoffracturedghosts, @dorck26, @adeptusnunya, @wonusbitch, @m00vp, @user1727381919

#john soap mactavish #ghost mw2 #mwii #kyle gaz garrick #ghost x female reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #captain price #ghost and doc #alejandro vargas #slow burn

[beepboopbupbip]

Just some hurt/comfort... no I'm not projecting shh (the challengers dialouge is in italics, P03s is in italics and bold. Is this a fic or an imagine? Yes, no, maybe. Just read it I know it's a mess.)

You know how P03 is always unkempt? He doesn't feel like he deserves to be taken care of, to take care of himself, I mean.

It's an average day, playing a round of inscryption. But something is off, P03 isn't even cocky or arrogant anymore, he just seems...

Tired.

You ask him a few times if he's okay, getting the same response each time. "I'm fine". He gets progressively more angry each time, but also just... more sad. Theres a few tears in his eyes, and hes shaking softly.

This continues and you almost give up on the matter, when you see a battery low notification on P03s screen and he flops down cold. Unconscious.

You walk up to him, and he's still running. You swear you can hear him wince and cry out of fear when you plug in his charging cord, afraid of being touched, afraid of being vulnerable. Before throwing a small blanket on him, shutting off the lights and leaving the room so he can rest.

He turns back on a short while later, and as you go to check on him, he explodes. You calmly explain he had passed out and he insists he doesn't need to charge. Yanking the cable out as he stands, causing him to show a battery 14% warning and his hovers to flicker, forcing him to sit back down before he falls over. You turn on the lights, so you can see him better.

You could say it's an argument, but it's mostly just P03s unintelligible insults as he tries and fails to stop crying and you attempting to calm him down and get him to rest again. Until he just breaks down in front of you

"What do you want from me!?".

You hear him yell, and it's nearly enough to shatter your heart into two. You walk up to him, seeing his eyes flash with fear. He's scared, he doesn't want you to hurt him. Instead, you simply take the blanket, and wrap it around him while trying to make as little contact with him as possible. You don't want anything from him, just for him to take care of himself.

You get through to him eventually, and he plugs back in the cable. Resting his head on the game table and crying into his arm. You grab a small pillow and a plush, handing him both and giving him a sympathetic look. Seeing him instead rest his head on the pillow, holding the plush close.

You can hear words through his mumbled sobs, albeit barely. You listen in closer, cocking your head in curiosity...

"I'm sorry."

You have to crouch down to his level, him already being much smaller then you and him also sitting down. Seeing his screen show tears in his eyes slowly forming before falling down, and the condensation rolling down his monitor.

"Don't apologize to me."

He's clearly confused by this, he snapped at you. You should be angry with him, but you don't even want an apology from him. You can see his face shift to one of confusion, turning his head and looking away from you.

"Apologize to yourself, P03. It'll take some time, but you need to forgive yourself before you can forgive anyone else."

You can see P03 nod, and you stand back up. Turning off the lights once more and shutting the door behind you to give him his space and to make him feel less vulnerable. You smile as you walk out, the sight of him resting is actually quite cute... you hope it's not the last time you'll see that.

It's going to take some time, he still doesn't think he deserves it, and even after he's going to struggle sometimes, but that's okay. You can be there every step of the way. And plus...

Maybe one day you'll be a bit more then this.

#shh... im not projecting... #shh shh... #i am so sorry i suck at writing #if you read this whole thing and decide to reblog pls tag “banana” so i can be happy knowing that someone beared with me this long #send help i cannot get the readmore to work on tumblr mobile #p03 #inscryption #inscryption p03 #p03 inscryption #p03 x reader #p03 my beloved

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 22🧂

Today is the last part of the Great Rainbow Bake Off preparations! Now we only have the actual competition to go :) In this one, Dokkaebi does her best with Lesion's support. (Rating T, fluff, ~2k words)

.

“What even are cookies, anyway”, Dokkaebi muses as she tries and fails to turn the hand mixer on. Regardless of how many times she flicks the switch, nothing happens. “How does this stupid thing work?”

Lesion, already looking like he regrets ever making her acquaintance, condescends to showing her where the cable is concealed on the underside and even plugs it in for her. “Now be careful with the -”

Too late. She’s already jammed the beaters into the bowl and turned the appliance on, producing an impressive cloud of flour and flinging bits of raw egg and butter around when she jumps at the sudden flurry of action. While trying to turn it off again, she lifts the mixer and spatters both herself and her gracious host in various ingredients while yelling about how dangerous this thing is, and then Lesion is by her side once more to finally put a stop to the salmonella carousel.

Accusingly, she asks him: “Why don’t you have a stand mixer?”

He glances down at his ruined jumper and gives her a look conveying very much what he’s too polite to say. “You need to start on a lower speed”, he explains gently. “And don’t lift it before switching it off.”

“You’re lucky you don’t smoke anymore. Hey, do you think we could go out back and make a flour explosion instead?” By the time the old man opens his mouth to, no doubt, refuse, she’s already waved him off. “Nah, forget about it. I need to win this, so I better practice. How does your oven work?”

She’s awarded with a quiet sigh.

No doubt he’d been looking forward to a quiet evening alone, being misanthropic and morose on his own as he wraps himself in five blankets and drinks litres of tea and/or coffee, but fortunately for him, Dokkaebi stepped into his life to disillusion him of that option. She chose him not just because he has an oven at all, it’s also that Hibana merely laughed when she was asked whether she can bake, Mute shushed her in case Smoke caught wind of their conversation (and though involving them would no doubt have ended in hilarity, nothing constructive would’ve come out of it), Vigil silently shook his head and IQ’s expression turned into quiet horror. She didn’t bother asking Echo – he probably would’ve lied and said yes, then watched her clean his kitchen so she could use it before revealing he has no knowledge to offer her after all.

So yeah. Lesion it is. He’s got a well-stocked pantry, a functioning kitchen and the patience of a saint, making him the perfect victim.

For some reason, her cookie batter doesn’t look right but she figures it’ll be fine anyway. After plopping all of it in small portions onto the baking tray, she tosses it in the oven and glances at the prominent wall clock to gauge the time.

“No timer?”

“Don’t need it. I know when twenty minutes are over. Do you think they’ll come out great first try and I won’t have to do anything else for the contest?”

Lesion raises a brow and glances at the admittedly-malformed lumps she just produced. “Sure. It’s possible.”

.

“Second try!”, she announces good naturedly, slamming the oven door shut. By now, she’s grateful for the apron Lesion provided and has made ample use of it. She looks like she butchered a chocolate Santa. “Done. Now to analyse what went wrong with the first batch.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Lesion is perched on the only chair in the small room, doing a crossword puzzle in between critiquing her non-existent talent.

“No. But it can’t be that hard, right? Dom said so himself. And he would burn a salad.”

The old man is judging her, she can feel it in the back of her neck – it’s a skill she’s developed over years of being surrounded by guys who think they know better than her. Even if it’s warranted in this case.

“Why do they look so odd? What’s this white stuff?” She pokes the sad, melted masses of sticky dough she rescued from the oven half an hour ago with a frown. Some of them have weird holes, others are flatter than the rest, and some display streaks of a substance she can’t identify.

“Flour”, comes the exasperated reply.

“Oh. But it’s supposed to be in there, right? You can’t make cookies without flour.”

“You didn’t mix them enough. You’ve had clumps of butter that melted out of the dough in the oven, that’s this brown stuff here. And you didn’t chill them, that’s why they’re so… horizontal.”

Huh. Good to know. “I didn’t chill these ones either”, she points to the glistening balls of dough currently being baked.

Lesion gives her another look.

“You could’ve said something!”

“I’m already keeping you company, that should be enough.”

.

“Weird that it’s so little dough this time”, she wonders out loud while inspecting the cold blobs with narrowed eyes. This time, she feels like she did everything right, she made sure everything was incorporated well and even put the blasted things in the fridge for a good while. “Oh well. It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Then you got some time to help me. Who’s the first programmer again? Babbage doesn’t fit.”

She regards Lesion with disdain. “Lovelace. How dare you forget that the first ever computer programmer was a woman.”

“And another, I need the name for the protocol employed by network switches to ensure -”

“Spanning Tree. Also based on the work of a woman.”

“By the way, what kind of cookies are you making again?”

“Sugar coo-” Dokkaebi slams her fist on the table, making Lesion jump. “Fuck! I forgot the sugar!”

.

She doesn’t miss Lesion’s conspicuous glance at his wristwatch. “I’ll be done soon”, she threatens while watching her handiwork, crouched in front of the oven. It’s really working overtime today, she reckons. “This is the last one. Everything’s in, I mixed it well, I chilled it, I gave them a little kiss and wished them goodnight, and now they burn in hell for their sins.”

“What crime did they commit, being sinfully delicious?”, he mutters in the direction of his phone while typing away. Dokkaebi suddenly realises she hasn’t checked her notifications in more than two hours, which is an absolute miracle – normally, her fear of missing out gets the better of her and though she’s been trying to cut down on screen time, she finds herself unable.

“I wish.” Both of them have yet to eat a single cookie and while they’ve nibbled on some, they didn’t dare eat a whole one. Just in case.

She deems the cookies done and gets them out with an oven mitt, poking at the malleable substance with curiosity. “They look good. Don’t you think? They might be fine.”

Lesion, for once, looks vaguely impressed. The cookies are a nice golden-brown colour and have held their shape well, somehow. Dokkaebi cuts one with a knife and lets it cool on the counter for a bit before offering one half to Lesion, putting the other half into her own mouth. Both of them bite down at the same time … and spit it back out at the same time.

“That”, Lesion forces out with a grimace, “tastes bad. What did you do?”

Dokkaebi struggles to come up with an answer before sweeping her gaze over the counter still littered with ingredients, nearly slapping her forehead once she notices. “Oh. I used salt instead of sugar. Oops.”

Another sigh. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to keep trying.”

.

A while later and in the midst of an involved multi-player battle, Dokkaebi hears footsteps approaching. She’s so engrossed in her current game that she doesn’t look up when Lesion opens the door, merely opting to ask: “Weren’t you going to sleep?”

“Not if you’re setting my kitchen on fire.”

It takes a second. “Oh fuck!” She nearly drops her phone as she scrambles to yank the tray out, coughing at the smoke emanating from it.

“Looks like someone’s getting coal for Christmas.” Lesion looks and sounds very much done. Just like the cookies. “Please go home now, Grace.”

.

She’s back the next day, undeterred. Lesion may do his best in trying to ignore her, though he thankfully is brave enough to try whatever she shoves under his nose from time to time.

“Not bad”, he rates her first attempt that day before audibly biting on something very crunchy. “Ah. Especially the eggshell. A brave addition.”

Right. Next try.

“This… tastes odd, and it’s kinda dark. What kind of flour did you use?”

Dokkaebi doesn’t really understand the question and shrugs, irritated. “Flour.”

“No, but -”

“It’s flour. It says on the packaging. Flour. See?”

Another look.

“Okay. What’s wrong with it?”

“This is buckwheat flour. It’s not the same as wheat flour, it tastes -”

“Flour is flour, it should do the same thing!”

“It doesn’t though, it will -”

“Flour is flour!”

.

Dokkaebi has never seen Lesion’s place this neat. While she occupies his kitchen, he apparently can’t relax enough to do nothing which results in him pacing about the flat and compulsively cleaning and tidying whatever sticks out. And there’s a lot of things that stick out. In the time she’s produced three more failed batches, he’s made sure the bathroom is sparkling, folded his laundry, put clean sheets on, took out the trash, sorted his books and tidied the living room.

In turn, she has not taken her phone out once.

“Try this”, she pants once she’s finally gotten a hold of him, meaning once she tackled him into the couch because he wouldn’t stop running from her and the cookie-shaped threat in her hand.

With an air of defeat, he bites into it and -

- and doesn’t look like he just drank paint thinner. Instead, he pulls a not bad face. “Surprisingly tasty. Different. What did you change?”

“I bought them at the shops.” For a second, he believes her, and this is even more of a victory than hearing him call them tasty. If he entertains the notion that these are store-bought, even just for a heartbeat, then she’s finally done it. “Honestly, I just did the same thing as always.”

“Everything is the same?”

“Yeah.” He gives her a blank look. “No, really! Butter, sugar, flour… all the same. Come look.” She gets off him and allows him to breathe once again, leading him to the kitchen and presenting her ingredients. “Here. I mean, your white sugar ran out, so I used the packed brown one. But sugar is sugar, it won’t make a difference.”

Lesion just sighs.

.

It’s a testament to the old man’s patience that he doesn’t close the door in her face the next afternoon.

“You were right”, is the first thing Dokkaebi says. “Flour is not flour, and sugar is not sugar. I looked it up. There’s an actual science to this, I thought it was just throwing together the same things with different results.”

“Come in. I restocked, so you can just keep on baking.”

“I actually brought everything I need.” And then some. She holds up her shopping bag and returns the rare smile she receives. “I’ll probably want to use half white, half brown sugar since they do different things, and I’ll try out baking soda instead of powder. Also, I read that browned butter can -”

“You know, I’m glad you didn’t give up.”

Dokkaebi scoffs. “Give up? This is the most fun I’ve had in years. I think I’ll keep baking even after the competition.”

“Good.” Lesion gives her a nod of approval, takes the bag and motions for her to go ahead. “So, you were talking about browned butter?”

#rainbow six siege #fanfic #kac #great rainbow bake off #grbo #dokkaebi #lesion #good luck with a structured approach to baking #at some point you just gotta pray #if anyone reads this I just wanna say hey #hey come here #yeah come closer #ready? #I hope you have a wonderful day and/or night ❤

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Restless Nights

Another writing prompt!

"A concerned woman sets up a camera in her bedroom to record herself while she sleeps. After watching the playback, she's shocked by what she finds."

Amber Zane looked at the teddy bear hesitantly. She felt stupid holding it, but she didn’t have a choice. It all started with her having issues sleeping at night. She would be able to sleep for an hour or two before she started getting really hot and toss and turn the rest of the night. When she would get up in the morning, she would always find a bite on her forearm. It would go down by the end of the day, but when she wakes up again, the bite was there again in about the same location. She told her husband Carl. He thought that it was some type of bug, but it didn’t make sense to Amber that a bug would bite the same place every single time. She told her mom. She thought that aliens were doing something with her with which made Amber regret telling her anything. 

After the seventh day of this, she broke down and a decided to film herself to see what was going on. She got a teddy cam to film her at night. Part of what her mom said got into her head. Obviously, she didn’t believe in aliens, but there is always a chance that a lunatic chose her house to mess with her. She sighed while looking at the bear. 

“Here’s to hoping that whatever is happening is benign,” muttered Amber. 

She unzipped the bear so that she could plug in the usb cable to connect the bear to her smart phone. She opened the video file and played. As she looked through the video, she was shocked by what she found. Her husband would wake up, and go under the bed. He would come back up with a brief case. In the brief case, there were several dozen syringes. He took one out and injected her with its contents. She stopped the video, and ran to her bed. She found the brief case and its contents. Nothing in the brief case indicated what was in the syringe. 

Furious, she ran downstairs to confront him. When she got to the bottom steps, she stopped because she heard two voices. One was her husbands, but the other was a woman’s voice she didn’t recognize. It sounded like they were in the kitchen. She was about to open the kitchen door, but stopped when she heard her name mentioned. 

“You went against protocol Carl by giving Amber B445,” said the woman. 

“Doesn’t the Magistrate understand that without it…” said Carl.

“Yes, Yes, the magistrate understands why you did it, but we have the protocol for a reason. You violated Prime Law Section 543Z. You know what this mean?”

“I know. Can I at least say goodbye to Amber.”

“I am sorry Carl. I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

Then she heard a bang. 

Amber bursted into the room. Lying in a pool of blood was  her husband. The woman was no where to be found. She quickly called 911. She then rushed to her husband with a towel to put pressure on the wound. HIs eye’s slightly opened. 

“Amber, you here,” said Carl softly.

Tears streaking down her face, Amber stuttered, “Hush now. Save your strength. The ambulance is on its way.”

Carl smiled and said, “I am just glad that I get to say goodbye.”

“Don’t say that! The medics will be here any minute.”

Carl winced as he grabbed a flash drive from his pocket and said, “I know you have a lot of questions. I hope this will be enough to answer.”

“You don’t have to explain anything now. We just need to focus on getting you healed.”

Amber could hear the ambulance in the driveway. 

“I am going to go let the medics in.”

“Wait” Carl groaned softly. 

“I need to get the…”

Carl gripped her arm and said, “When you view the thumb drive, just know that I did what I did because I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

His arm went limped and his eyes closed. Amber rushed to let the medics in. They began performing CPR as they got him to the ambulance. As they drove to the hospital, Amber stared at he husband. Who was this man that she married? Better question is did she want to find out?

#writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writing #fiction #sleepless #sleepless nights #mystery #distrust #betrayal #secrets #secret agenda #drugs

[lasclindy]

Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit serial#

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit drivers#

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit driver#

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit Pc#

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit windows 7#

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit Pc#

Please be sure you selected in your PC BIOS options for the LPT/Parallel port: SPP / NORMAL MODE, SPP stands for: "Standard Parallel Port" mode. Just to add up some general useful information to make your MTP-AV Parallel Version work under Windows operation systems: MIDI and USB just don't cut it at this time for me. Maybe it's just a matter of getting a cable to convert the Parallel Port A to USB?Īnyone with info on this, please chime in or PM me.

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit windows 7#

I tried contacting you but your profile says you now don't exist! I could sure use some help on getting my old MTP AV to hook up to my new windows 7 PC.

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit serial#

If anyone has an old (real old) friend who is a real computer geek since or even better before the 286 era, ask him to help you to implement tight MIDI transmissions on multiple channels into your studio over serial or parallel ports, yes with Windows7 I for myself, as many others around the world can´t get anything "hearful" (to not to say useful) out of soft-plug´s (synths especially) and swear on good old (and a few new) gear, so there will ever be need for some kind of timeconsistent "MIDI" communication. the problem will be future OS after Windows7, there will be no official support from Motu´s side (probably) for old serial/parallel port MTP´s, with luck the music industry gets on one boat and goes for LAN on all new gear. If you can or want to try it, go for serial and parallel interfaces when it comes to get MIDI SYNCHRONIZED out of your sequencer to your outboard equipment (well, MIDI=serial transmission, so in the best case you will get continuous latency on all data-strings, in the case you get any latency on MIDI-OUT´s). I´m not an engineer in this area, but I can talk about tests I´ve made and others have made, all togteher came to the same conclusions: USB seems not well suited for time-critical, tight and continous MIDI data transmissions on multiple channels. Serial and parallel ports had since ever the lowest latency in the system-chain, when talking about MIDI transmissions, nothing changes in Windows7, it´s direct and uninfluenced by Windows itself. Search, ask and confirm anything carefully, not only when buying on eBay.įor people searching for the plug and play pleasure and thinking into the future after Windows7 I would recommend to buy the newest USB2.0 MTP versions, but then there is the latency problem with these USB units, not really with the units themselves, but with the USB interface as it was designed, it just do not suit well the properties of MIDI data, even less if it has to transmit on more than one channel. To get these older MTP-AV´s working on a MAC you´ll need an old one, a G3, BUT: with one advantage youy´ll be able to get hands on the "MIDI-effect-processors", these can then be saved into your MTP and called up by any MIDI message - unfortunately no one has access to this, even not with the newer USB2.0 MTP-AV versions, while working on any Windows system.

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit drivers#

Very sad that people give answers that have a value less than worth to throw directly into the bin.Īnyone reaching this post from a searchengine with questions about how and where to get these Windows Vista / 7 device drivers for the Motu Timepiece MTP AV LPT Parallel Port Model, feel free to register at this forum and send me a PM. You need the USB model.ġst: any motherboard with LPT/parallel port is supported by Windows 7Ģnd: Motu released and posted in their download section in October 2009 device drivers specified for the older Timepiece MTP AV models, those with parallel port for Windows Vista 32 and even 64bit versions and serial/modem port for MAC, therefore these drivers can be used with no concerns nor complications at all with Windows 7.ģrd: next time inform yourself well, before posting such things "Windows 7 doesn´t support LPT/parallel ports" - this shows how much you know about: not much to nothing.

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit driver#

Therefore there's no Windows 7-compatible driver from MOTU that supports the parallel MTP-AV. 1nput0utput wrote:Windows Vista and Windows 7 don't support parallel devices.

#Usb midi driver windows 7 64 bit

[little-fairy-forest]

Hiraeth : a homesickness to a home you can't return to

Bakugou x gn!reader, angst

The night was young. The winter frost gently coating the window of a young mans dorm who was up way past his bedtime. As he lays in his bed wrapped up warm and cosy, he fights off the sleep creaping over him like a second blanket. The crisp air in his room reminds him to shut his balcony door before he goes to sleep. Fresh air is healthy, but damn does cold air circulate quick. Katsuki steps out from his cosy warm bed to shut his sliding glass door beside his bed, adjusting the curtains to make sure no light will get in when the sunrises. The duvet covers now surrounding the ruby-eyed boy lulling him into the early stages of sleep.

As the time reads '9:26pm' the young blond continues to read the next chapter of the series he has been binging all weekend on his day off. It was hard for him to set his phone down during training, but he knew better then to get caught by his classmates in his little secret he is ashmed to admit. Scrolling for hours on end seeing if anything good happens in the next chapter.

You see, Katsuki Bakugou was like any normal teenager his age. He had hobbies and past times. But unlike others, he has a quiet the usual past time.

Katsuki likes to escape the harsh reality around him by submerging himself into your world. A fantasy world made up by some author who was able to make this young boy head-over-heals for you. Yes, you were a fictional person but you mean so much to this little hero in training, you helped him get up in the morning on the hardest and coldest days to go read the next chapter published by a fanfic writer on a popular fanfiction website. Katsuki's eyes would light up when you appeared in the lastest chapter of the series. He has some options about "how you need more scenes" and "your character needs it's own spin off". Katsuki knows his friends around him also read the little 'slice of life' series you appear in. But the difference is nobody cares for you like Katsuki does, nobody understands you like Katsuki does, and most importantly

Nobody loves you like Katsuki does.

Yes it was a silly crush, a fake crush if you will since your not real. But, did you make him happy? Absolutely. Did you keep him company? In his thoughts and dreams, yes. Katsuki knows what he does isn't healthy, and definitely is doing something to his mental health.

Relying on a fictional character to keep him happy?

How pathetic

Well, that's what he'd say to anyone else. Katsuki sometimes thinks about what he'd do if he never came across your series. What would he spend his time doing? Definitely not scroll endlessly on the Internet for decent fanfiction about you and you alone. Nobody else in the series really clicked with Katsuki. To him they really are just "backround characters" in your story.

As he shuts off his phone and plugging it into his charging cable, he places his phone on his night stand ready for the morning ahead of him. Unfortunately for Katsuki, he was never good at getting to sleep as soon as he shut his eyes. Wandering thoughts kept his mind occupied, anxiety keeping him up with silly worries. But the one thing on his mind as he tries to get even a wink of sleep before school in the morning, was what he'd do if you were real.

Katsuki liked to imagine little scenarios through the day and at night to keep his mind at ease. They started off simple, such as how you'd react in a certain hero situation or what your favoruite flavour of ice-cream is.

Over time they became more elaborate, some of Katsuki's favoruite "stories" to think about you is 'saving you from a villian attack' he's a hero in training surely saving his "crush" is a dream of his, right? Or how you'd respond to him asking you to marry him. Very far fetched, obviously, but to this boy it was simply a daydream,,

He wonders how you'd react to the Bakusquad being idiots..maybe he should keep wondering and not dwell too much on that thought exactly. He had his own headcanons of you, some defy the canon version of you to fit his own needs and wants, but thats alright since it's his headcanon. No body else's.

Katsuki read a lot online about different "shifting" methods. To be quite frank, he thought it was all bullshit. No way could you "shift" to another world? One that he knows doesn't exist because it was made up. It's just someone on some paper, how could you "travel" to their world? Didn't make sense to him

But yet, he hoped maybe prayed a little that he would have a realistic dream about you. Oh how he wishes to hold your hand or give you a bone-crushing hug. How he wishes you'd comfort him after a tiring day of being a hero at u.a , how he wishes to be reassured that everything will be okay.

Katsuki begins to drift into sleep, his breathing goes shallow and his heart beat goes to a calm pace. As his body begins to repair itself after the long day. Katsuki's brain was getting ready to indulge into the land of dreams. Some people say dreams have hidden meaning whilst others say their made up. To Katsuki they symbolise something he needs to keep an eye out for. If he is to dream about heroism and fighting villains, he is on high alert the next day. He thinks it's silly but really it's just superstition.

***

"Hey!" Katsuki yells as you run away from him, you squeel with giggles as the blond boy can't keep up with you. The ruby eyed boy manages to catch up to you and tackles you to the grassy floor that you were running through. You both seemed to be in a sunny park, filled with bloomjng flowers and green grass. Bee's working hard collecting pollen whilst the pretty butterflies just fly around enjoying their short life. Katsuki huffed and puffed at he hovered over you, a cheeky grin adorning his face as he carches his breath

"You run fast for someone so struggles to keep up with me in training" Katsuki gloats knowing you struggle to spar with him after a long day of training. You laugh at his antics as you retaliate back with just as much confidence

"You know you love me enough to not care!" You watch as Katsuki's cheeks start to coat over with a deep blush as he moves his head away. You laugh at how easily you make this boy fluster with simple words. As much as you love this boy you know you can't keep him around for long, you know his alarm will go off in a few moments so it's best if you wrap up tonights dream.

"Hey Kats' ?" You ask quietly waiting for the boy to compose himself, katsuki looks down at you still underneath him completely unphased in your current state.

"Yeah?" He responds in the same tone as you, wondering what's so important that your tone has changed from sweet and giggly to serious and almost upset

"It's almost time..." you say as you watch as the glimmer in his ruby eyes fade realising what you meant. He hates this time of the night when you have to say goodbye

"No no no, n-not yet please!" Katsuki tried to reason with you, he doesn't like this time of the night when you have to part ways, not knowing when you will meet again.

"You know I can't control this Katsuki...I promise I'll still be with you here" you sheepishly point to his heart. Unfortunately you can't hear it breaking but Katsuki most definitely can.

As you begin to fade away out of Katsuki's dream, he tries with all his strength that he has gained from training to try and keep you from disappearing, but to no avail you fade into the green grass below you as you almost appear as an oasis to the blond above you

"See ya' soon kats' " you say with tears in your normally smiley eyes that hold so much love.

"Wait please!" Katsuki pleads as he scrapes the grass that no longer has you sitting on it. Katsuki stares at the ground wondering why he can't just be with you. Yes, he knows the reason why but doesn't want to believe it.

***

Katsuki stirs in his warm bed , groaning at the sound of his alarm waking him up signalling to him to start getting ready for the day.

"Stupid alarm" katsuki pressed the 'snooze' button on his phone. He wipes the sleep out from the corner of his eyes. As he grabs his phone checking his notifications to see what the world was up to when he was asleep. One notification in particular catches his tired eyes

"New chapter posted on a manga you have favoruited!"

Katsuki seen the notification about the lastest chapter of your manga posted. He debates reading it before getting ready but instead opts for a different option.

Katsuki clicks the notification bringing him into the online manga app to view the lastest chapter. He debates his idea before going through with it, he knows it will ease his mind and not make him distracted anymore.

"Delete from library"

"Confrim"

Katsuki takes a deep breath, he hopes he can stay on track on becoming the greast hero ever. Your little manga can wait until then.

He hopes

-> masterlist

General tags : @aomi04 @justheretoaskandread @rebekah-trader @veenxys

#little fairy writes ✍ #little fairy forest #mha headcanons #mha fluff #mha x y/n #bnha headcanons #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki #bakugou angts #bnha katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou angst #bnha katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou x female reader #bnha imagines #bnha #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1443

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the non-sexual intimacy prompt 'escorting the other to a doctor/ therapist appointment' given by @mllekurtz

***

Can you drive me to the dentist next week pretty please?

It’s been almost a year since Essek had first been asked to give one of his friends a lift. The requests had slowed somewhat since Caleb finally got himself his own car two months ago, but he is not yet necessarily free from this particular duty. Now he receives a text asking to be driven out of town most often when Caleb is occupied with work, sick, or inebriated.

These texts used to make him wince. After some time they made him smile. These days, they tend to catch him a little off-guard.

Is Caleb not available? he responds.

No, Jester texts back, he’s got an appointment too. Are you gonna be busy?

No, I will be available. I’ll drive you.

Thank you!! I’ll meet you outside the school like usual!! Love you so much!!!!

Essek puts away his phone. He remembers where Jester’s dentist is from the last time she had him drive there. There’s a nice café two blocks away where he could wait out her appointment, reading and enjoying a cup of tea, before driving her home again. He puts his mind to picking out which book to bring.

Five days later, when Essek arrives in the small car park across from the art college, he’s twenty minutes early. He occupies himself by methodically checking his emails, texts, then social media.

Caleb has sent him a photo of Frumpkin playing with his television’s cables. Essek asks if he’s forgotten about his therapy appointment. Caleb responds with a photo taken through a windscreen of a city road, blocked with traffic as far as the eye can see, and a text reading, I wish I had.

Someone knocks on Essek’s window.

“Hey!” Jester’s nose presses up against the glass. “You got here early,” she says, muffled. “You should have let me know.”

“I am not going to encourage you to leave class early, Jester.” He opens the passenger door.

“Boo.” Jester flops into the seat and begins buckling herself in as Essek starts the engine. “We could have hung out a little! We’ve all been so busy since the summer and I miss you, you know. I wanna know how you’ve been! Do you wanna talk about work? Probably not. How about, um, how’s the new flat? I heard Caduceus helped you settle in.”

“I have been well,” Essek says as he pulls out of the car park. “You remember that miniature flower bed you helped me build on my windowsill? I have been growing a little basil plant there.”

“Oh! Have you used the leaves to make anything?”

Essek winces. Of the scant few recipes he could reliably prepare, most are from his home. He’d failed to find a Xhorhasian supermarket in the area after moving and had taken it as a strong sign to try working with what he’d been given. But his lack of experience cooking anything at all made adapting that much harder.

“The cooking part...I am working on that. I will be asking for Caduceus’ guidance again.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Jester says airily while digging through the small collection of audiobooks and music discs in the door compartment. “How long have you had these? Caleb’s car doesn't even have a CD player. Oh, I bet Caleb could help!” She grins at his reflection in the internal mirror. “He can make some very tasty Zemnian meals, you know.”

“I do know. I believe I’ve eaten one or two prepared by him at a dinner party with the others.”

“You should ask him to teach you the recipes.”

“I might. What did you get up to today? Painting? Sculpting?”

Jester smirks. She answers him, goes on to talk about her current project (a ten-foot-tall collage of hundreds of vintage pinup photographs, though Essek cannot parse the meaning of it). Essek gets the distinct impression that she’s barely holding herself back from needling him more.

As they reach the edge of the city, the traffic slows. A heavy sense of doom overcomes Essek, while Jester flips through the radio channels.

Someone behind Essek honks. He grits his teeth.

“Oh, the traffic here is pretty bad, huh.”

Essek flexes his hands around the steering wheel. “Yes, it seems so.”

Jester turns the radio off. “Do you have to be anywhere after this?”

“No,” he replies. The car comes to a dead halt. “I do not.”

Jester bounces in her seat as if she might be able to peer over the roofs of the dozens of gridlocked cars ahead of them. “Oh man,” she says. “I’d get there faster if I walked.” She goes quiet. After a heartbeat she smiles and turns towards Essek. “Hey Essek? Do you have any sexy audiobooks?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have a CD in here of someone reading a porn book out loud.”

“No, why would I have–?”

“That’s okay, I can plug my phone into the dashboard.”

“Please, Jester.”

“Okay!” She laughs, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket. “What CDs do you have? All the titles are in Undercommon...”

“Most are audio documentaries. There are two about special relativity, one about magnetism, and one on the life of a particular astrophysicist. There’s also a rock album in there somewhere; my brother gave it to me as a joke.”

Jester snorts.

“I am very boring, aren't I?”

“No!” Jester suddenly grabs his shoulder and shoves him around in his seat, which would have worried him were they moving at any velocity at all. “You’re not! Essek, you’re very fun and interesting.”

Essek smiles as he’s shaken from side to side, keeping his eyes on the traffic jam ahead. “I am very fun and interesting,” he repeats.

She finally stops shoving at his shoulder. “I should get you some new fun CDs for your car. I don’t even know where to buy CDs these days, but I'll get you some.”

“Can you promise there will be no more than one pornographic item in this collection?” he asks, raising his brow at Jester in the mirror.

“Oh, sure.”

“Then, as they say, go wild.”

“Neat. Hey! I know we’ve all been super busy lately but I bet we can do, like, a dinner party or something. Just one evening. Yasha got back into town this week and Veth says Luc has been spending most weekends at his friends’ houses so she can come over. Maybe a Saturday night?” She’s pulled out her phone already. “We can just hang out in my and Fjord’s flat for a while. Or yours!”

“I do not think I have enough space for nine.”

“But would you be free?”

He thinks. “Next weekend, yes.”

Jester pumps her fist in the air. “Awesome! I’ll text the others.”

The traffic moves ever so slightly. Essek watches the cars ahead of him like a cat watching a bird.

“Beau might be the busiest but I bet she’ll want to come. Oh, Caleb can cook something with Caduceus! One of those meals you liked.”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Maybe you can show him a recipe you know too. Try that sometime.”

“Hm.” The car in front finally budges. Essek inches forward.

“I bet he’d love that, Essek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know you don't think you’re a good cook, but I remember that rice meal you made when I came over last spring and it was good!”

Now they’re driving again, if at no more than five mph. Essek grips the wheel.

“Make that meal, put on a good movie, wear something cute — that black top with the long sleeves I think — and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me, Fjord was no match for the tried and true Lavorre Technique.”

“Hm.”

“And then maybe you can finally talk to him about your big fat crush on Cay-leb.”

The car directly ahead halts. Essek swears and steps on the brake. He stares at Jester. “Pardon?”

She just grins at him.

“I was not listening. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” she croons, “But guess what…”

Essek is familiar with this tone. It doesn't scare him as much as it used to; he’s developed somewhat of a pavlovian response to her mischief in spite of his initial displeasure. As her grin widens, Essek feels a mirrored anticipatory smile spread across his face.

“You’re stuck in here with me,” she sings, waving her index fingers side-to-side with each word, “and we’re stuck in here together, and I wanna know the truth. So…” She leans forward. “Don’t you like him?”

Essek, face hot, but still smiling, reaches for the radio fast enough to fumble the air conditioning.

#cr fic #critical role fic #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #some shadowgast gossip #ficlet #critical role essek #critical role jester #critical role #modern au

[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."

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic

[thedeathdeelers]

juke + fairy lights

again, this was supposed to be shorter but like..you know. hope you enjoy tho 🥺

——

He knew she was miserable.

She had caught a cold a few days ago, and she was going through it. Her nose was clogged up, her throat so sore she barely had a voice, and whenever Luke watched her try to get up and out of bed, she would lose her balance, nearly toppling over. Thankfully he had been there every single time to catch her, steadying her before leading her back into bed.

But now, sitting on the beanbag in her bedroom watching her as she scowled up at her ceiling, he knew he had to do something. Anything. He didn’t like seeing her like this, understanding all too well what she was going through - he remembered how awful it felt being stuck indoors doing absolutely nothing for days on end while watching everyone around you go about their day. She was a kindred spirit - he knew exactly how she felt.

Luke sneaked a look at Julie again only to find her staring out her window, a slight frown taking over her features.

Over the last few weeks, before Julie had gotten sick and had gotten stuck indoors, they had started spending their nights lying down side by side on the roof terrace outside her window, watching the stars twinkling away against the dark inky expanse of the night sky. Luke had seen the way Julie watched the sky, a look of wonder in her eyes followed by a smile that transformed up her face, conveying the unadulterated happiness she felt surrounded by the miracle of nature.

But now she was stuck inside, hidden from the lights that brought her so much joy.

Turning his head towards the window, Luke peered up at the night sky littered with stars stretching out as far as the eyes could see. For a fleeting second he had thought of suggesting they sit by her window on the floor and watch the shimmering spectacle from there, but had thought better of it. He knew it wouldn’t be the same, and he definitely didn’t want to move her from her bed or risk make her more tired than she already was.

He racked his brain trying to think up of an alternative, of a way to make her day a little brighter, when he suddenly remembered a picture Julie had shown him of her and Flynn posing in Flynn’s bedroom a while ago. He remembered being completely focused on the Julie in the picture at the time in her cropped Double Trouble t-shirt, but now that he thought back to it, he vaguely remembered seeing a string of lights twinkling away behind the girls in the background.

Hm, maybe...

With a tentative idea forming in his mind, Luke shot up from his seat, bouncing over to where Julie was lying on her bed. He kneeled down beside her, coming face to face with a sorrowful looking Julie.

“Hey,” he whispered, his fingers grazing her cheeks.

“Hi,” she mouthed back, her voice still absent after days of coughing and a sore throat.

“I’m going to go check on something with the guys, but I’ll be right back, okay?”

He watched as the corner of her lips tugged down, a slight pout forming.

She nodded at him, even though he could tell she wasn’t happy about him leaving her.

“I swear I won’t be long, just need to do something real quick.”

She nodded again, her bottom lip jutting out a little more. He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her forehead before getting up and poofing out of her room. He knew if he had spent a second longer looking at her pout, he would have caved and stayed put.

But no - the idea in his head was now fully formed and he wanted to do this for her. He was getting excited just thinking about the small chance that he might be able to make her feel a little better. He had to at least try.

He poofed into Carlos’ room, happy to find the littlest Molina playing on his iPad - communicating with him this time ‘round would be easy.

He moved in closer, clicking the lock screen button 3 times, just as Reggie had instructed him to. As soon as the third click sounded, Carlos’ head whipped up in his direction.

“Reggie?” Carlos quickly swiped out of the game he was playing, and switched to the program Luke knew how to use.

Holding out his iPad in Luke’s general direction, Luke grabbed the fake fancy pen attached to Carlos’ iPad he was told to use, and started typing out his message.

Watching the screen as letters and words started to appear, Carlos corrected himself.

“Ah, hey boy band.”

It usually got on Luke’s nerves when Julie’s little brother still insisted on calling him that, but right now he had more important things to focus on.

He finished typing out his request, and waited. Not a minute later, Carlos reached for his phone and started dialling the number Luke needed.

“Hey Flynn...no everything’s fine. What? How could you say that...I always call just to say hi...no.... Okay fine yeah, boy band needs something. No, not Alex. He’s drumstick. Yeah. Hers.”

Hers?

“Yeah, she’s still pretty sick, I think. Hasn’t really left her room for a few days, but neither has he, according to Reggie.”

Luke could hear Flynn’s eye roll all the way from the other side of the line.

“Yup, pretty much. Uh yeah so he- uh, I think he’s asking if he can borrow your star lights? I don’t know he just said uh-” Carlos referred back to his iPad, rereading Luke’s request. “Yeah, that’s what he said. I don’t know Flynn. Fairy-” Carlos turned his head back towards Luke, and asked “Do you mean fairy lights?”

Luke wasn’t entirely sure what they were called, but he figured they were on the right path.

He typed out his quick reply onto the screen, and watched as Carlos relayed his message to Flynn.

“Okay, yup. Cool, I’ll let him know. Okay okay, yes. Ok bye Flynn!” Carlos quickly hung up even though Luke was pretty sure he could still hear Flynn talking on the phone.

“So boy band, Flynn said the lights will be ready in like 5 minutes. She’ll leave them on her windowsill. She said to just grab them and leave, but she’ll want them back once Julie’s feeling better. She’s assuming they’re for Julie so..”

Carlos shrugged, and went back to his game, losing any and all interest in the ghost still standing in his room.

Luke reached out and quickly ruffled Carlos’ hair, poofing out just in time to hear an indignant yelp escape Carlos as he attempted to swipe at the space Luke had just vacated.

He reappeared outside Flynn’s house, taking his time walking around the perimeter of her house, keeping an eye on each first floor window he saw, unsure of which one led to Flynn’s bedroom. On his third walk around the house, he spotted a bundle of cables with stars attached to them sitting on the outside ledge of one of the windows on the North facing side of the house.

Luke poofed up, balancing precariously on the much smaller rooftop terrace as he grabbed the lights, waving them in the air once he noticed Flynn watching from the other side of window pane.

“You better take good care of her, lover boy,” she said, pointing a finger at him. “And don’t break my lights!”

With one final wave of the lights in his hand, Luke poofed out of there, quietly landing back in Julie’s bedroom. He hid the lights behind his back as he checked on her, making sure she wasn’t looking at him.

Once he was assured that she was asleep, Luke started setting up.

He started by hanging the lights around the top of her bed frame, the higher up, the better. He strung them across her ceiling, making sure to hook up the end of the fairy lights onto the hanging rod of her curtains. He then proceeded by wrapping the rest of the lights down the sides of her bed posts, leaving a couple of the soon-to-be blinking lights to pool onto the foot of her bed.

Satisfied with his work, Luke switched off every single light in her bedroom, plugged in the fairy lights and settled himself next to her on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he watched her sleep, a peaceful expression on her face.

Now all he had to do was wait.

——

A few hours later, while Luke was working through a difficult bridge in his head, his eyes closed as he rested against the headboard, he felt Julie shifting next to him.

He opened his eyes and found that she had turned to face him, her stare fixed on him.

“Hey sleepyhead,” he whispered, a small smile appearing on his lips.

Julie’s lips twitched, her hand appearing from under the covers to wave at him.

“You feeling a little better?” His fingers reached out, pressing against her forehead to check for any signs of the fever that had finally gone down yesterday.

At her nod, his smile transformed itself into a grin.

“Good, ‘cause I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

He could already feel the ball of worry in his chest getting lighter at the way her eyes lit up at the mention of a surprise.

“Come on, close your eyes. I just need you to sit up a tiny bit, though.” At his words, her eyes slid shut, her arms coming out from under the covers to push herself up into a slight sitting position. Once there was a little bit more space behind her for Luke to fit, he took his spot, slipping in between her and her headboard. He placed his hands on her waist, pulling her back towards him as they both settled themselves into a comfortable position, his legs on either side of her.

Once they were set, she leaned back against his chest, her head nestled in the crook of his neck, her eyes still closed but her smile a little wider.

“You ready?” He whispered in her ear, his hands lightly squeezing her sides once.

She nodded.

“Alright. You can open your eyes, boss.”

At his words, Julie’s eyes fluttered open, immediately followed by a small gasp escaping her as she took in their surroundings. Her hands shot up to cover her mouth before they landed back down into the bed a few seconds later in search of his.

He shifted his hands from her sides, moving them to rest on her stomach. Her hands instantly followed suit as she covered his with her smaller, softer ones, her fingers gripping onto his.

He watched her as she took in the show, the glimmering lights above and all around them reflected in her eyes.

Luke nudged her temple with his nose before placing a kiss on the soft skin under her ear.

“I figured since we couldn’t go outside to watch the stars, I’d bring them to you,” he whispered.

Julie’s hands tightened their grip on his, her eyes not leaving the spectacle in front of her.

As he continued to watch her, her eyes flitting from one dancing light to the other, he noticed a lone tear making its way down her cheek.

“Jules? Jules! Are you okay? Is something wrong?” Why was she crying? Did he do something wrong? Was it because he had moved her? Wha-

But before he could start to fully panic, Julie simply shook her head, before turning to face him.

“It’s perfect,” came her quiet whisper. “Thank you, Luke.”

At her words, Luke let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in. “Of course Julie, anything for you. You know that.”

She stared at him for a few more minutes, the look in her eyes morphing into something that had his stomach erupting into thousands of fluttering butterflies.

“I love you,” she mouthed, her lips tilting up at the corners.

Three simple words. Three simple life changing words.

Luke could do nothing but stare at her, his mouth hanging slightly open, as his brain tried to process what was happening. Sure he had been head over heels for her from the moment he laid eyes on her, the moment he heard her sing. But to have her here in his arms, actually saying these words to him - he felt like he had somehow crossed over, finally making it into Heaven.

In his momentary daze at her proclamation, he had barely noticed Julie shifting again in his embrace, just enough so that she could cup his cheek with her hand.

“Luke?” She whispered questioningly. The sensation of her thumb brushing against his cheekbone jerked him out of his stupor, his hand coming up to press hers closer to his face.

“I love you too.” His voice was low, quiet & soft, but still full of all the conviction he could muster. At his reply, her eyes crinkled up with the force of the smile that was taking over her face.

He loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

He brushed her hand against his face, moving his head just enough so that he could place a kiss on the palm of her hand. The smile on her face didn’t budge as she withdrew her hand, turning her head around so that she was facing the lights in front of them once again.

She settled herself back against his chest as Luke wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, bringing her closer to him, closer to her place in his heart.

FIN

#thank you for sending in a prompt 🥰♥️ #jatp #juke #julie and the phantoms #otp: you’re music to me #my fics #jatp fics #follower celebration #prompt fics #uhhhh ya so. enjoy? #thedeathdeelers fics

[lubdubsworld]

Better Man. ( Taehyung x OC)

Chapter 1    Chapter 2

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 3 ~ The problem with marriage is this  : it isn’t worth the pain of divorce. 

Denial isn’t healthy.

 But sometimes it helps you stay sane , at least long enough to get your act together. When you’re in denial, you kind of keep yourself together a bit. You process things a bit more slowly. Take your time examining the facts. 

It helps you make a delayed but possibly more informed decision.

 Impulsive decisions never end well.

 So it’s good to stew in denial for a while ( a short while) and then slowly begin processing what happened, think about it, think how its gonna affect you and then make a choice. 

Unfortunately for Taehyung and I... I wasn’t in denial. 

Maybe I should have been.

 The time between Taehyung turning up drunk and the me leaving the house was less than twelve hours. Taehyung showed up drunk and I just told him I was leaving. That we needed a break and I didn’t know when I’d be back. 

Terrible choice.

 In the first twelve hours, the hurt is so potent and strong , the wound so raw and fresh that you can’t think beyond the pain . Your instinct is to repay the pain, to retaliate and make the other party feel exactly what you’re feeling. So you think of the thing that would hurt them the most and you go ahead and do it. 

Like move out of your shared home of eight years, take away the son he adored and possibly rip the ground right out from under his feet. 

And then after the first twelve hours, reason begins to catch up. 

I had wanted to go back. 

I had wanted to go back to him but I was scared. 

Scared that I was being weak.

 That if I didn’t stick to the choice I made, Taehyung would forever see me as a pushover. That he would take it as some sick permission to do it all over again. That he’d just think I was too weak to walk out on him. 

And i couldn’t have that. I couldn’t have him hurting me and not facing the consequences of it. I just couldn’t.

So I stayed away. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I worked on the seventh floor of a high rise in Gangnam, probably a twenty minute drive from Taehyung’s agency. It was an electronic/ tech company that dealt with everything from mobile phones to home fittings . As the  assistant director of Marketing I dealt with branding and keeping up the image of the company. Annual budgets, endorsements, campaigns and what not. 

I was good at it and i enjoyed it . everyone agreed that i did a good job because the numbers spoke for themselves. But I think the main reason I got the job was because I was married to the biggest brand ambassador in the country. 

“ I need the reports on consumer trends for this month and I want to meet with Social media team before lunch. There’s a drop in our web traffic and that needs to be fixed.” I told my assistant, accepting the hot coffee and muffin that he held in his hand before moving to the corner office, my strides faltering just a bit when i noticed that  someone  was already inside. The figure had his back to me but I could vaguely recognize the broad shoulders and muscular arms. 

“Mr. Jeon’s been waiting for about ten minutes now.” Mingyu said with a smile and I nodded. 

“That’s fine , I’ll handle him.” I waved my assistant off and moved to the  door, unlocking it and stepping in. 

“Morning, Jang Mi.” He smiled, eyes flashing with ill concealed delight and I inhaled to calm myself down. . 

I could already feel a headache coming on. 

“Jungkook.” I said curtly. “ To what do I owe this very early visit?”  I glanced at my table finally taking the bottle of champagne in the small ice bucket. 

“Thought we’d celebrate you finally being free.” He grinned. 

Jeon Jungkook was handsome, intelligent , and annoyingly good at everything he did.

At 34,  He was one of the youngest CFO’s in the industry, and everything he touched turned to gold. I didn’t report to him and he had zero reasons to be in my office at any given time. But , unfortunately he had never gotten that particular memo. 

“I’m not in the mood, Jungkook.” I sighed, moving to the back of my desk and dropping my bag on the small ottoman on the side and my keys in the desk. I plugged my phone into the cable on the side and then went to open the blinds. 

“Come on... You know how sick I’ve been of two years of  hearing ‘ I’m sorry, I’m married.’ .... you’re gonna have to come up with  a better excuse the next time i ask you out.” 

“No. No is a whole entire sentence that you should be able to accept.” I said evenly, fixing the cushions on the couch only to have him plop down on them immediately after. 

“One date. Dinner anywhere you like. i can fly you to Paris if you want.... Macua? Jeju Do? Tell me what you want and I’ll get it done. ?” 

i stared at him. 

“I want you to fire Kang Yeseul from the Social Media team.” I said with a shrug. 

He frowned. 

“The new girl? Why?” 

“She’s been posting nudes that she took in my office when I was on leave last week. My name plate is literally visible.”

“Jesus fuck...these bitches get dumber by the minute.”

I couldn’t even deny it.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said swiftly. “ Anything else?”

“Web traffics gone down and I’m gonna find out why. It’s probably time for us to work out the budget for the Christmas Carnival. I think we should go for something new this time. If you can set up a meeting with all the department heads we can brainstorm a few ideas...” 

“I can’t forget about that night.” 

I froze. 

God. 

i turned around to stare at him as he lounged on the couch. If Kim Taehyung was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, Jungkook was definitely the second.

 He was disconcertingly good looking and where Taehyung’s image was always the clean cut gentleman with the perfect character, Jungkook had a reputation as a bit of a delinquent. Simply because he had a penchant for leather jackets and liked to ride around Seoul on his motorbike on days off. 

Which was ironical because in truth, Taehyung was far from a saint and Jungkook was relatively more put together 

He was also a divorcee and a single parent. His daughter Jennie was easily the cutest two year old on the planet.

His wife and him had fifty fifty custody but she had cheated on him with his best friend. Jungkook had no patience for her. They had a very volatile relationship but he was fighting for full custody and rumor was that he would most certainly be granted it, soon. 

A marathon runner ,  he didn’t drink or smoke.  

Jungkook liked to paint and volunteered at an animal shelter once or twice a month because he loved dogs but couldn’t keep one because of his busy schedule. 

So all in all , a pretty solid candidate if I was looking for a guy. 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that I was completely and utterly done with relationships for the rest of my life, I would actually give the guy a chance. 

But , it is what it is. 

“That sounds like a  you  problem. “ I shrugged. “ It was supposed to be  one  night  with no strings attached. And by string I meant awkward conversations three months later .” 

Jungkook groaned and sat up straighter, legs spread and shirt sleeves riding up to show a very sparkly watch. Rich men and their vices. I smirked a little. 

“Come on... its just dinner. I want to get to know you, that’s it.” he held his hands up. 

“There’s nothing to know Jungkook. I’m actually more boring than i appear, which is saying something. I’m not going to be the girl in the leather jacket clinging to your waist when you’re joyriding that motorbike of yours through Seoul. That’s not me. I would hate something that” 

He chuckled. 

“Are you sure? You ever tried it?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll buy you a jacket. Join me this weekend. We’ll go a ride. Then you can make a decision.” 

I opened my mouth to argue when the phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

“Hello?” 

“This is Lee Taemin from the Advertising Department.”

“Yes?”

“We have a Mr. Jung from HYBE on the phone. They want to talk to us about a possible candidate for our Christmas Campaign.... “

I blinked, surprised. 

“We haven’t even decided on a theme yet. “

Choosing the right actors to endorse stuff was usually the last step. 

“I know but he’s saying they want to talk about Mr. Kim Taehyung as a possible candidate?”

I felt my entire jaw come unhinged. 

I turned to Jungkook stunned. His eyes widened at the look on my face and he mouthed a ‘ What’ 

“Please tell him I’ll call him back in fifteen minutes.” I said quickly.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook demanded. 

“Taehyung’s manager...he... he wants to make him the face of the Christmas Campaign.” I said dully, mind ringing. I was utterly stupefied. 

Taehyung was the face of Gucci and Versace . He was so far out of our company’s league it wasn’t even funny. 

Jungkook stared at me in disbelief.

“No.” He said quickly.

I gaped at him.

“What?” 

“No... we can’t have that. He’s.. he’s obviously doing this to get back with you...”

I shook my head.

“that can’t be it. He’s the one who gave me a divorce. He’s the one who wanted to end it. “ 

It was the shock of what I’d heard. There was no other explanation for why I said that to Jeon Jungkook. 

Jungkook gave me a look.

“Really? But you wanted one too right?”

“Of course I did.” I lied easily, waving him off. “Anyway that doesn’t matter. We can’t say no to him, Jungkook. Our sales would skyrocket if we get him onboard.” 

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck, you’re right. The Ceo will probably piss himself in excitement. You sure you’ll be okay with it?”

Jungkook looked worried. 

“You forget that Taehyung and I are actually quite good friends.” I said gently. 

He grimaced.

“That's just unnatural. If you can stay friends with an ex it clearly means that either you’re still in love with each other or....”He shrugged. 

“Or what?” 

“Or you never loved each other in the first place.” 

I swallowed the remark hitting a little too close to home for comfort. 

“Schedule that meeting Jungkook. We’ll come up with a campaign theme that would fit Taehyung’s image. I’ll take to Hoseok and Taehyung.” 

“You’re going to call Taehyung?” Jungkook asked casually.

“Hoshi’s with him today. I’ll probably go over to his place after work and talk to him in person.” 

“Lucky bastard. He gets to hurt you and yet  still have you.” Jungkook said bitterly. 

I rolled my eyes.

“He doesn’t have me.”

“Doesn’t he? Why else would you turn down dates with anyone who asks? its one date.. a dinner... If you’re not still hung up on your ex husband why wouldn’t     you just go on one date with-”

I’d really had quite enough of it. I threw my hands up in sheer exasperation. 

“Alright fine.” I yelled, “  I’ll go to dinner with you...can you just stop psycho analyzing my relationship with my husband?” 

Jungkook’s smile told me that I’d been played like a fiddle. 

“excellent. Go see your husband after work and I’ll come pick you up at eight.” 

“What...no wait...”

“I know where he lives. Don’t worry about it. I’ll schedule that meeting and maybe after lunch we can go over the kind of budget you’ll want. Okay?”

I felt a little like I’d stepped into quagmire. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I didn’t go see Taehyung after work. 

I didn’t have to. 

An hour before I was due to finish my daily report, he turned up at the office with my son. My assistant let him in and I could only gape at him.

“What are you guys doing here?” I asked , completely thrown. 

“Mama I had ice cream with strawberries and sprinkles in a hundred colors.” Hoshi looked excited, eyes shining the way they usually did when he was with Taehyung. 

“That sound incredibly exciting....”

“We missed you mama....can we go again?” He said excitedly.

“I’m sorry honey, Mama’s a little caught up with work...”

“Why don’t we wait?” Taehyung said cheerfully, “ Mama likes blueberry scones so we can get those for her...” 

I stared at him.

“Okay...” I sad carefully, staring him down. What was he doing really?

“Okay... Can I go see the fishies....” Hoshi waved at the large fish tank built into the wall in my office and Taehyung laughed, letting him down.

“Sure bud.. go see how many of the fish you can identify...” He said brightly. 

“ Since when do you pick me up for blueberry scones after work?” I asked briskly and he shrugged.

“Let the kid be happy , Mia. I heard Hobi hyung already spoke to you.”

“What is that all about, Tae?” I said tiredly. 

“All the other offers i got are out of Korea. I want to stay with Hoshi during the Holidays so i thought this way , we could spend some time together..”

“By we, I hope you mean you and Hoshi.” I said drily.

“Of course. I could’ve picked another mall or something but i thought it could be a good thing if we worked at the same place... we can keep Hoshi with us and there wont be all the commuting back and forth nonsense....” 

I nodded. 

“I suppose you’re right. “ I sighed. “But be warned, you’re probably not going to have a very exciting time. 

“I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.” 

I nodded. 

“I won’t tell you how to live your life And I most certainly won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. My Ceo might just give me a huge pay raise for this. He’s been waiting for it since the time he hired me.”

Taehyung gave me a smile.

“I would have done it the minute you asked. You never asked.” 

I shrugged. 

“Like I said, I won’t tell you how to live your life.” 

“Jang Mi?” The knock on the door made us both look up.

Jungkook stood framed in the doorway, jacket off and slung over his arms . He looked bigger than usual, muscles straining against his button down and hair mussed. 

He stepped in casually, holding a hand out to Taehyung.

“The golden boy of Korea. in the flesh. A pleasure to meet you Mr. Kim. I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook” 

The pair of them shook hands and I felt that I would rather be anywhere in the world than there. 

“ Nice to meet you Mr. Jeon.” Taehyung smiled politely. 

“We still on for tonight?” Jungkook asked casually, turning to me with a bright smile. 

This is why i hated men. 

Taehyung’s eyes snapped to me so fast that i was sure he must’ve got whiplash. 

“Sure. I’ll call you.” I said shortly. 

“What’s tonight?” Taehyung smiled, face neutral and smile still in place but his eyes flashed and his voice carried a knife edge to it. 

“Business dinner. We’re going over the budget for the Christmas campaign.” 

“Oh... where?” Taehyung asked with the same smile and I frowned.

“We’ve not decid-”

“I thought I could cook for you. i make a mean steak dinner and I thought I could pick up a bottle of your favorite wine on the way. You have my address right? ” Jungkook smiled. 

Taehyung went still next to me, his entire body taut . 

“A little inappropriate for a business dinner, don’t you think?” he snapped.

Jungkook glared back at him, eyes narrowed. 

“Well, you know what they say about all work and no play-” he began but I’d had enough. 

“I think this conversation needs to end now.” I said loudly. 

They  both shut up but glared at each other.

“I’m gonna make a reservation at the Hyatt for tonight. I’ll meet you there at seven thirty. “ I said, glaring at Jungkook. 

He nodded.

“Pleasure meeting you Kim Taehyung.” He nodded curtly at my ex husband before moving away. 

The silence he left behind was pretty awkward. 

“Bit too much of a douchebag than your usual type.” Taehyung said casually. 

I groaned.

“Don’t start.” 

“ I won’t if you don’t date him.” 

I opened my mouth to argue but then stopped. 

“Lets just get that ice cream ? “ I said tiredly. Hoshi reappeared from the inside room, looking excited and happy and I smiled despite my weariness. 

I could use a little sweetness in my life after a bitterly exhausting day. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note : Feedback is welcome . Probably going to be a long , terribly angsty fic with a lot of pain for everyone involved. I still haven’t decided who ocs going to end up with so we’ll see... what do you guys think? 

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fics #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic

[sapphire-strikes]

11,12,14 and A. Hear me out. Kamal and Flower Kid are TINY compared to Boris and the two of them should have the privilege of drowning in Boris' sweaters.

Hope you don't mind, I decided to combine these two!

11: Holiday Sleepover.

12: Firelight.

14: That Fuzzy Feeling.

15: Holiday Movie Marathon.

A: "It's a little big don't you think?" "It's just cozy sized!"

~

"I think that's everything!" Kamal announced, brushing off his hands with a satisfied smile as he stepped back into the living room through the door that lead into their garage. "I left it all somewhere easy to get to just in case you decide you want to do any last-minute decorating."

"Last minute decorating? Oooh, do not tempt me, Kamal!" Boris laughed as he tucked the remaining candy canes neatly into a bowl on their coffee table.

"Not that we haven't done an awesome job already. I gotta say, it's nice to see this place fancied up with the holiday spirit for the first time."

"Agreed, it is quite nice!"

They'd made use of the remaining Christmas lights as well, the ones that hadn't fit on the tree or outside, by wrapping them the whole way up the stair's banister. It was a last-minute decision by Kamal once they had finished decorating the tree and it gave their living room that final touch that brought the cozy atmosphere alive.

Their little conversation was unheard on your end, the soft him of the vacuum filling your ears as your swept up the stray pine needs that tracked from the door to the corner where the tree itself sat and you found yourself almost underneath it as you bent down to sweep around its base. Once you were satisfied you sat back on your knees and pushed the vacuum out of the way with a huff, reaching for the bright red rug that was fitted perfectly to encompass the base of the tree and leaned down once more to place it around it.

"Boo!"

A pair of hands squeezed your sides from behind and you jumped, bonking your heads upward into the soft needles of the Christmas tree, ducking right back down when they tickled the back of your neck.

"Oh, I am sorry! Are you okay?" Boris asked, taking a step back as you began scooting your way back out from under the tree.

"Haha, yeah I'm good." You assured, taking the hand that was offered to help you back up. "Anything else need put away?"

Boris opened his mouth to answer but Kamal beat him to it. "Nope, that's everything. Thanks for the help, kiddo, we're finally done." You nodded and the three of you shared a moment, taking in your work. The tree was trimmed and spun with lights, tinsel and popcorn with ornaments and candy canes hung from top to bottom. It was entirely picturesque and exactly what a Christmas tree should be, not perfect or even organized, but brimming with the personalities of the people that were excited to decorate it.

"It looks awesome..." You commented fondly, looking to Boris when he placed a hand on your shoulder and strode up beside you, eyes as full of light as yours were.

"Mmhm!" He nodded, a wide shaky smile on his face and you could only attribute his vague agreement as his way of holding back all he wanted to say. "It is perfect. Everything is perfect!"

You shared a few more moments of silence, deciding to let him take his time before moving on.

"It's gettin' late, we could turn the lights on outside now too." Kamal chimed in, nodding towards the door and Boris quickly wiped at his eyes.

"Yes, the lights!" He ushered you over with with Jim as he began heading for the door. "Come come, let us see how they look!" Following his orders, you stepped outside with him. It was fairly dark out already, with just the teeniest bit of twilight offering some light yet as you hugged your arms on the welcome mat. Boris kneeled to grab a cable that sat right out of sight off the walkway and turning back to you one last time with an excited grin before plugging it into a socket outside the doorway.

You looked upwards as immediately, the lights lining the roof and door came on and you followed them as power made its way past the windowsills to the trees on either side of their yard and they flashed on.

"Woah..." You gasped wistfully.

"Come here!" Boris gripped your hand and began leading you down the walkway. It was freezing but you followed after him without a second thought, the two of you coming to a stop at the sidewalk to turn and take everything in as a whole and neither of you said a word as you stood there.

Theirs wasn't the only house on the block with decorations or lights but from where you stood, you would have thought it to be the brightest. In all honesty, you weren't sure why this felt so monumental, there wasn't anything out of the ordinary or mind blowing about the simple display, but you couldn't shake the familiar warmth that built up in your chest as you stood hand in hand with him. It was enough to erase the bite of the cold air from your mind as enjoy the moment entirely.

"You did an incredible job, B."

Boris was just as mystified as you were, but you felt him squeeze your hand tighter, his way of acknowledging your compliment, so you returned the gesture.

"I love the snow as much as anybody but I'd recommend a jacket at least." Kamal called out, leaning against the frame of the front door.

'Snow?' You thought, glancing to the white that covered their lawn, it had been there the last couple of days but it quickly dawned on you that that wasn't what he was referring to. You'd been so distracted you hadn't noticed the small white flakes that had begun to fall all around you. "Boris, it's snowing!" You cheered and finally released his hand to cup yours towards the air and catch a few.

"Hm? Oh yes!" He copied your motion, raising one of his own hands to watch the way they hit his palm and melted. "It is, how do they say? A Christmas Miracle!"

"I wouldn't say miracle, exactly, unless you're prepared for a "miracle" forecasted every day this week," Kamal joked, taking a step back inside and motioning for the two of you to follow.

Boris looked down at you, his brows raising as he seemed to finally come to. "Yes yes, let us get you back inside!" He placed a hand on your shoulder and began shepherding you back up up the walk. You almost stopped him, thinking to say something but stopped yourself, you needed to collect your things anyway and you didn't want to bring the mood down so suddenly with the fact that you should probably be heading home before it got much darker.

The warmth of their home was more than welcome as you were the first to step back inside after Kamal, Boris following closing behind.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Before you made it too far inside, you felt him hook the back of your shirt collar and pull you back into his arms. "Mwah! One for now. Mwah! And one for before!" He placed a smooch on your right and then left cheek, releasing you once he was finished.

Bashfully wiping your cheeks off with your sleeve, you turned your back to him to hide your face and began collecting your things from the couch. "Yooou are such dork!" You laughed, internally smacking yourself for forgetting the way this place was booby trapped with mistletoe, and he rested his hands under his chin, smiling at you.

"A dork who looooves you! >:-]"

"Pfff.." You couldn't even bring yourself to respond to that, doing your best to repress the wide, half-embarrassed smile on your face. "Okay..." You began, stepping past him once more to reach for your jacket. "It is getting late so I should probably start heading home. I don't want to get caught up in anything if it starts snowing harder, thanks for everything today."

"I- what?!" His cocky smile fell immediately and his expression changed from surprise then to worry. "You are leaving?! Why?!"

"Because, I've got decorating to do now, remember?" You joked, finding at least a little bit of amusement in his sudden change in demeanor. "Thanks for everything today, see you tomorrow?" He didn't answer fiddling with his hands rather uncertainly by the door and was about to speak up himself when Kamal took notice of your teasing and leaned out of the kitchen.

"Kid, if you think we're letting you walk home in that. You've got another thing coming." Boris perked right up, placing a hand on his hip and raised a finger at you before you made it out the door.

"Kamal is right!"

"Go get in the car, I'll drive you."

"Kamal!"

You snickered and Kamal winked at you. "Unless...y'know, they want to stay the night or something, probably not though. I mean, who would want to spend the night with us? I wouldn't, especially not if I had to drink all this hot cocoa I just made." He shrugged leaning back into the kitchen. "Oh well."

Boris gasped loudly, fluttering his hands excitedly. "That is it! We should have a holiday sleepover! We can watch movies and drink hot cocoa and eggnog and eat cookies and fall asleep by the fire!"

"Well....I'm not sure." You feigned contemplativitly and he pouted. "Alright, alright, don't see how I could say no to an offer like that. If you don't mind me staying, I'd love to." You joked.

"Exactly, you can not! And of course we do not mind!" Boris reached for your jacket and you let him hang it up once more. "Go get comfy, I'll go get us some things!"

You nodded and stepped fully back into the living room. Boris began running upstairs but stopped himself halfway and jumped back down, "One moment!" closing the distance between you he leaned forward and at record speed planted another smooch on your cheek. "You make it too easy!"

Kamal eventually came out to join you on the couch and as he'd not so subtly promised earlier carried with him three mugs of cocoa on small. "Drink up, kid." He offered you one, setting it down on the coffee table and taking a seat beside you.

"Thanks." You said as you slowly grabbed the mug and lifted it to your chest.

"Marshmallows?" He offered, pulling a few from a pack and stirred them into his own mug.

"Yes please, thanks and thanks for..." You vaguely motioned around yourself and dropped a few into your cocoa.

"Nah, thank you, you sure are making the big guy happy." He paused to take a sip and let out satisfied sigh. "And besides, I meant what I said about you not walkin' home in that kinda weather, you gotta take better care of yourself.

"You got it" You saluted him, finally trying your own. It was still too hot to drink but you took a small sip anyways, letting it burn the tip of your tounge. "What's he up to anyway?" You asked, looking upstairs. Boris hadn't come down yet and in the meantime Kamal began working to start the fire under the TV.

"I've got a pretty good idea." He smiled, stepping back when the logs began to take to the flame and sat back down beside you. "He's... way better at this than I am." Kamal remarked, referencing the way the small fire flickered awkwardly among the poorly stacked wood. "He'll be able to get it going better once he's done doin' what he's doin'."

"Here they are, I finally found them!" Rushing down the stairs returned Boris, clad in what had to be one of the loudest Christmas sweaters you'd ever seen. It was one of those ones with a fully decorated tree stitched into the front complete with fireplace and stockings.

"Eyy, speak of the devil."

"You're looking festive." You remarked with a grin.

"Thank you, I'm glad you think so, because the best part is; I've got one for each of us!." He held out what appeared to be two sweaters of similar style but you hesitated to take one. Even folded up they were ginormous and the heavy material made it pretty weighty as well.

"Oh, wow." You stuttered but darn it if it didn't look cozy and you were too deep in the holiday spirit to turn down such a notion now. "Okay, give me just a second!"  You grabbed the sweater and ran down the hall to the bathroom to change. The one Boris was wearing was oversized as well, even for him, as sweaters usually were, so compared to you this one had you completely dwarfed when you held it out to examine it. It was green, red and white with "Naughty Or Nice?" printed in large black letters on the front. When you finally slipped it on, it hung down below your thighs with sleeves that were at least half your arm length too long. Looking in the mirror, you hugged yourself, appreciating how soft it was even if it did look more like a nightgown than a sweater.

When you reentered the living room, Boris gave a small, happy applause and Kamal fell back in his seat with a snort. "Lookin good, kid." He joked.

"Indeed, very full of Christmas spirit, Y/n!"

"Thank you!" You took even Kamal's snarky compliment with pride.

"Okay, your turn, Kamal!" Boris turned to him holding the other sweater out.

"That's okay, bud, I've got one of my own I can-" Halfway through his sentence, Kamal was entrapped inside the large sweater as Boris got to work putting it on him. There was a brief struggle and then finally a loud gasp as Kamal's head burst through the collar. You were the one laughing now and Boris took a step back to admire his friend. "Nevermind, I guess this will work then." Kamal relented with a smile and leaned back into the couch. He had a giant bow design on the front of his, making him look like a present. "Kinda big though, ain't they?" He joked, flapping the oversized sweater sleeves..

"They are just cozy sized." Boris insisted, wrapping an arms around the two of you and squishing you together in a massive hug as he fell backward onto the couch. "We are going to have the coziest sleepover ever and the coziest sleepover needs the warmest hugs!"

"You are such a cheeseball, big guy." Kamal said, half muffled by the face full of sweater.

Boris et out a small content hum and the two of you were finally released. You curled up beside him, tucking your legs underneath the sweater with you and leaned back against the arm of the couch. "Oh, we've got to watch a Christmas movie!"

"Oooh! Good idea, I do not think I know many though..." Boris commented sadly and you patted his shoulder.

"It's all good we'll introduce you to the classics!"

"Now we're talkin'!" Kamal slapped his knee. "What did you have in mind, kid?"

"How about Die Hard? That's technically a Christmas movie after all. Or...the Nightmare Before Christmas?"

"Die...Hard?" Boris parroted, raising a brow questioningly.

"Very funny, kid. Sides, Nightmare's a Halloween movie."

"That's debatable."

"Those your actual picks? No take-backs ya know."

"Okay, okay," You raised your hands in surrender. "I guess...if I wanted it to be something really special, I'd choose It's A Wonderful Life, but I think we should save that for last. So...what about the old Rankin Bass ones?"

"Now you're talkin. Which one you want to go with?" Kamal asked.

"We've got all night, right? Let's watch all of them, the main ones at least, we can make a marathon out of it!"

"A marathon?" Boris parroted once more. "That would mean we stay up as long as it takes to see them all, correct?"

"Yes, but trust me it's way worth it, I think you'll love them. We'll start with Rudolph and go from there."

"The Year Without A Santa Clause was always one of my favorites." Kamal smiled, side-eyeing Boris. "Would be nice to see them all again."

"Okee, let us do it! I want to see what makes Christmas special to you two." You could tell that Kamal was almost as surprised as you were at his almost instant agreement.

"Awesome!" You cheered, making yourself comfortable while Kamal reached for the remote.

"Ooh, I have an idea!" Before you began playing anything, Boris stood up and rounded the couch quickly. "Hold on for just a moment while I-" with a hearty push, he gripped the back of the couch and slid the entire things closer to the fireplace. Once he was satisfied he vaulted back over it, landing between the two of you and was quick to cuddle you both close to him. "Now we'll be nice and toasty!"

~

🎄Request Here🎄

~Bonus~

"He just wanted to be a dentist, but society would not let him!" Boris cried, already tearing up.

"Of all the ones I counted on you crying about, I don't know why I didn't see this coming?"

~

"~We're a couple of misfits."

"~We're a couple of misfits."

"~What's the matter with misfits?"

"~That's were we fit in!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'm the only one here that's NOT traumatized in some way."

"..."

"..."

"Too far? Sorry, I guess I shouldn't have-"

"~Oh, We're a couple of misfits!"

"~We're a couple of misfits!"

"Okay, never mind, apology retracted."

~

"Do not let this scare you, Y/n, I am sure Santa will be here right on time this year to see someone as good as you!"

"Pff, I'm not worried, Boris."

"Yeah, kid, don't worry, he'll come for sure."

"Gee thanks, Kamal."

"No no no, eet is okay!" Boris squished you into his side, patting your head reassuringly. "You have been nothing but nice, so I am sure sure of it!"

~

"~Let up a little on the wonder why and give your heart a try." You heard someone softly singing along and leaned around a sleeping Boris to see if your suspicions were correct. Kamal, half sleep himself and leaned into his sweeping companion whispered along to the song playing on TV. Half of you wanted to say something, maybe poke fun a little bit but he seemed oddly at peace, enough that he didn't even notice you watching him.

"~There's more to the world than meets the eye. ~When doubts in your mind give your heart a try ~Let up a little on the wonder why-"

"And give your heart a try!" You sung, finishing with him in unison.

"Heh, Merry Christmas, kid."

#smile for me #sfm #boris habit #kamal bora #sfm writing #reader/fk #sfm Christmas prompts #Merry Christmas!

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 2

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; emotional manipulation; gender stereotyping; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

The music reader listens to is inspired by Frederic, specifically their songs ‘oodloop’, ‘OWARASE NIGHT’, and ‘Kanashii Ureshii’ and you can look up the MVs on YT. They have subs, yes the lyrics inspired certain scenes, no I have no idea what is going on, and I don’t know why they’re dancing like that lol

–

1.

-

She slapped him across the face.

You froze.

The cassette smashed.

“I hate you, Min Yoongi!”

She shouted it so loud that you heard it over your music. Your finger instinctively went to your earbud and tapped it, pausing the sound. You couldn’t believe your eyes. What had this guy done? What had this guy done to be yelled at like that the second he stepped off the night train to stand in front of his girlfriend?

“Useless piece of trash, always fucking late!”

Slapping him over and over, so loud because the train station was completely empty except for you and these two, yelling obscenities and the guy was just standing there, taking it, saying, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry for what? Why did she keep hitting him? Why? Stop it. Stop hitting him.

“Such a fucking waste of life, I can’t believe I have to be your girlfriend!”

Stop it.

“No one will ever fucking love you, you shithead, so I’m stuck with your stupid self!”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Mumbles. Fear.

Stop it!

“You think anyone will ever do anything for you the way I do? I’m all you have!”

Within two seconds, you crossed the space between you and them.

You smacked her hand away from him.

Pause.

You hesitated to press play. Standing in front of this random guy you didn’t even know, fury in your chest so strong that you forgot you were a stranger, glaring at this scowling, rage-filled woman with vehement disdain. You had no idea what the fuck was going on, you had no idea why he was being slapped so much, you had no idea why this woman was so angry and maybe there were very good reasons for it all, but somehow.

Somehow you didn’t think so.

Play.

“Stop it. He said he was sorry,” you barked, narrowing your eyes.

Her pretty face twisted with rage. “Who the fuck is this bitch, Yoongi? A whore you picked up?”

“I… I don’t know her…” the man behind you rasped, trying to move around you, but you kept yourself between the two, shouldering your backpack.

“I don’t know him. I just know you shouldn’t be hitting someone like that.”

The woman snapped at you, rising to her full height, challenging you. “This isn’t any of your fucking business. This is between me and him and doesn’t concern outsiders. Tell her, Yoongi.”

But you didn’t let Yoongi tell you, cutting him off as he tried to speak.

“This isn’t my business, but I’ve seen enough examples to be able to spot domestic violence when I see it,” you growled.

The woman scoffed, flipping her hair. “Domestic violence,” she snorted. “He’s a man. It’s not like I hit him that hard. I’m a woman.”

You curled your hands into fists.

“You stupid bully.”

The woman looked taken aback. “What?”

“I said, you’re a stupid fucking bully,” you snarled, taking a step forward and forcing her to take one back. “You think this is nothing, until you have children and your children have to watch this shit over and over, every night, thinking it’s right, thinking it’s the way it should be, but you’re fucking wrong, because this is not a relationship, this is not love, this is fucking bullying and you are a stupid, dumb bully who can’t admit you have an inferiority complex and your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example, so do me a fucking favor and get the fuck out of here and leave this guy alone, because you are an absolute sewage of a human being.”

She gawked at you, slack-jawed, probably never been talked to in such a forceful manner before, but you didn’t care, because you didn’t spend years in therapy to watch this shit happen right in front of your face.

Never in your entire life had you ever been so angry at a stranger before.

The woman seemed to gather her bearings and spat at the floor, staining the concrete with her spit. You raised your eyebrows, unintimated. She stamped her foot at your lack of reaction, pointing accusingly at Yoongi behind you.

“Don’t you ever think about coming back home. I’m burning all your shit.”

She turned her heel and stomped away.

You almost expected Yoongi to run after her, but he didn’t. He just stood behind you and breathed laboriously. You suddenly realized that you might have done something mildly insane. She said she was going to burn all his shit.

“Hmph,” you heard the mumble behind you. “All I had was clothes anyway.”

You turned around. He wasn’t looking at you. His black hair was all over his face, and his face mask was half-pulled down, revealing his red cheeks. You looked away quickly, taking a step back.

“Are you… okay?” you asked quietly.

You saw his eyes shift around. He didn’t actually respond. Just shrugged.

You bit your lip.

Silence.

“There… are no more trains,” the Yoongi guy whispered.

“Y… Yeah.”

Silence.

The lights above you were harsh, casting large shadows all over the concrete. Nothing but the sounds of the city and the darkness above, the moon witnessing it all.

He turned away from you, walking over towards the benches. Walking away. The crumpled paper of a man, shrinking as he took one step, then another, farther and farther away from you, and you opened your mouth to shout after that black back, extending your hand in the air.

“H-Hey!”

Pause.

He turned his head around to look at you with broken and lonely eyes.

“If you want… I have a couch and some blankets.” You swallowed, knowing how crazy it was. “Because… You shouldn’t go back. I…” Don’t want you to end up like my dad. “Even if it’s one night.”

I want to break this cycle.

“Just one.” You lowered your hand, holding up one finger. “One.”

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

Only turned around wordlessly and walked back to you, stopping in front of you. Saying nothing.

He didn’t say anything the entire walk.

Didn’t say anything as you opened the door and gestured him inside. Showed him the couch, got him the blankets. Asked him if he wanted anything else. He shook his head instead of talking. You ran to your room and got him a spare pillow. Held it out to him. He took it silently. Ran off again and got a new toothbrush from your stash of toothbrushes. An unopened travel toothpaste. Asked him if he wanted anything to eat. A glass of water. He shook his head.

Showed him the bathroom. A shower?

Shake, shake.

Okay.

You told him if he was cold to let you know. You would find another blanket.

Yoongi said nothing.

You nodded and turned away, letting him be. It was hard to look at him. You didn’t want him to think you pitied him or anything. But he reminded you too much of your dad if you stared at him too long. You had gotten him everything you could think of and let him know that if he needed anything to tell you.

You went to your bedroom and let out a big sigh.

No dance party tonight.

You went to your computer and opened Spotify. Put your headphones on and listened to the music, letting it carry you away. Before you knew it, one song flowed into another. You slowly began to bounce your head to the music, the cheerful, quirky beats making you smile, your hands moving on their own, lip-syncing the lyrics.

A happy tune with sad lyrics, but it made you smile at the same.

You failed to notice Yoongi appear at your door, holding his phone. He needed a charger. Did you have one? And then he saw the back of your head, bouncing along, headphones on.

He retreated back to your living room, clutching his phone. Decided to go to sleep instead.

Hours later, you finally decided to sleep, placing your headphones down. Was Yoongi sleeping? You padded over to the dark living room, seeing a bundled form on your couch. His coat was over the blanket. His head was under the blanket. Was he cold? You went back to your room and collected a pink knit one. Walked back to the living room and moved his jacket aside onto the armchair, putting the extra blanket on top of him.

His phone was on your coffee table, flashing. It was low on battery.

You checked if it was Android or iPhone. Android. Good, because you didn’t have a lightning cable, although you would have gone to the twenty-four-hour convenience store nearby to get one if he did have an iPhone. Back to your room. Got a charger and struggled to find an outlet in the dark. You’d think you would know where your own outlets were, but apparently you were too sleepy to remember. You felt around in the dark and poked at an outlet, stabbing the wall repeatedly before plugging it in. Maybe you should have turned a light on, sheesh.

You snaked the cable around and plugged his phone in. It vibrated approvingly and you gave it a thumbs up, even though it was an inanimate object.

Let’s just say living alone made you weird.

You let out an exhale and wandered off to brush your teeth.

Not noticing Yoongi had woken up and been watching your struggle. Saying nothing.

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Morning.

You yawned and nearly jumped when you saw the unmoving pink blob on your couch. Oh, right. You were surprised he wasn’t awake, but you shrugged. The blankets were over his head, blocking out the sun. You tried to stay quiet, opening your fridge, staring at the contents.

Staring at it with a million question marks.

You had… kimchi. Eggs. Cheese. Definitely expired take-out. You took that out and dumped it in the trash can, grimacing at it. A stranger didn’t need to see how disgusting that was. You went back to your fridge. Um. It wasn’t that you couldn’t cook, it was that you didn’t have jack shit. And if you cooked on the stove, you would definitely wake up Yoongi.

Your stomach screamed in rage.

Feed me!

Ah, well. Sorry Yoongi. You settled on a kimchi-egg-cheese pancake thing. Was it going to be good? Sure. Was it not the most elegant thing in the world? Maybe. What can you do?

You began to chop the kimchi.

-

Yoongi turned over on the couch, groaning. He heard the sizzle of the pan. Smelled spice. Eggs. The world was unfamiliar. No one was yelling at him to get up. No one was doing the blankets off of him and calling him a lazy pig. 

"Motherfuc–!"

A female voice cursed in a loud whisper. You cut yourself off, muttering.

"Stupid oil, ugh."

Not his girlfriend. 

Slowly, Yoongi pulled the blankets off his head. An unfamiliar scent, different laundry detergent than he was used to. The sofa smelled different too, like vanilla with a hint of stale popcorn. Probably from being dropped in the cushions and forgotten about until months later. 

His stomach growled. 

The smell of the food enticed him. He got up, seeing you at the stove, wearing black pajamas with the sleeves rolled to your elbows, and a cream scrunchie holding your hair up. You made a face at the pan and scolded it. 

"Who's the boss here?" you hissed hotly at the sizzling food. "That's right, me, because I'm about to eat your ass, so simmer down and stop trying to singe my arm hair off."

Yoongi blinked. 

He got off the couch as you continued your quiet tirade, shoving your hand into a bag of cheese and sprinkling it on top, laying down a generous layer. 

You should cover it, Yoongi thought. To let the cheese melt. 

You grabbed a pan lid, and covered it. The lid definitely went to a separate set because it was a different shade of silver, but it didn't matter. You mumbled triumphantly at the pan. 

"Ha, take that, you stupid eggs, who's in the hot seat now, eh?"

Yoongi stared.

You lifted the lid and checked the cheese. A billow of smoke floated out. You seemed satisfied and turned off the gas. Lifted the pan and spun around. 

Froze. 

Yoongi blinked at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still holding the hot pan. 

Silence. 

A good ten seconds past. 

You slowly put the pan on the cork potholders at the counter. Two plates were at the counter with two sets of chopsticks.

"Uh... I made a kimchi-egg pancake t-thing..." you stuttered. "With cheese on top. You don't have to eat it. But I'm not going to poison you or anything. Er, well, that's something a someone who would poison you would say, huh? Oh, maybe I should have checked the expiration date on the kimc–"

"Why do you talk to your food?" Yoongi asked pointedly.

You turned bright red. 

"Um... bad habit. 'Cause I live alone..." You shifted your eyes. "No one... to talk to."

Yoongi stared at you. 

You turned around abruptly and grabbed a knife. Took off the pan lid. The kitchen was suddenly filled with the delicious smell of eggs and kimchi. The cheese bubbled as you cut it into pizza-like slices.

Yoongi sat down at the barstool, staring at it. He was the one who usually cooked. He hadn't had a home-cooked meal by someone else in forever. Not since he lived with his parents. 

That was a long time ago. 

"I seasoned the eggs beforehand and poured it on the sautéed kimchi..." You placed a plate with a pair of chopsticks in front of him, ears still red. You avoided looking him in the eye, scratching your cheek. "I, uh, have to go grocery shopping," you mumbled, taking a slice. "Sorry it's not that fancy..."

Yoongi picked up the chopsticks and took a slice. He blew in it carefully and took a small bite. Spicy, savory, delicious. He took another bite. And another. The food was hot, almost burning the roof of his mouth. This must be a dream. He wasn't in his nightmare. He wasn't going to question it. 

As long as he wasn't in his nightmare, he could pretend this was reality. 

Yoongi didn't notice you watching him with relief. 

He took another slice. The meal was quiet, but not suffocatingly so. It was calm, only interrupted by chewing. You reached into the cabinet below you and produced a water bottle. Put it next to him. Didn't say anything. Yoongi are three more slices, throat prickling with the spice, lips puffy, before he opened the water bottle and drank from it.

"If you want, I can direct you to a shelter."

Yoongi put the water bottle down. Stared at his stained, now empty plate. 

"Or you can call a friend to shelter you," you continued. "You can even get a restraining order if we involve the police–"

"No."

He said the word with harsh finality. 

"It's not that bad."

It wasn't. He was just being a child, running away. 

"... Okay."

Yoongi looked up. For a split second, there was immense pain in your eyes. Why? None of this was happening to you. You didn't know anything. You were just some stranger. Why was he even here? Why had he come here to sleep on some random couch? So dumb. Some random woman couldn't save him from his problems. 

... Your kids will spend years in fucking therapy wondering why they don’t understand how to make relationships with other human beings because their mom was a terrible fucking example...

Yoongi stilled as he remembered your words from last night. That was far too specific. His brows furrowed. You let out a sigh and took his plate.

"Do you want a shower?" you asked. "I have spare towels."

Yoongi tilted his head. "I don't have a change of clothes." He stared at the hardwood floor. "And my other clothes are probably burned by now."

You placed the dishes in the sink and began to wash them. 

"We can go buy some. I need groceries anyway."

He didn't understand why you were being so nice to him. It was strange. You didn't know him. Well, actually... he didn't even know your name either. 

"Uh..."

You looked up from the dishes, hands covered in soap. Yoongi did all the dishes at home. He did all the housework, in fact. This was weird, watching another person do housework. His voice was quiet, timid, crumpled like a piece of paper. 

"What's your name?" 

-

"Do you want white or black?"

You held up two multi-packs of t-shirts in his size.

"Uh... Black."

You dumped the black in the cart and put the other back. Yoongi stayed behind you, not picking out anything. You were wearing your backpack, a black cap, red wide-knit sweater, and black jeans. Black combat boots, the familiar staple for you. The two of you are standing in an aisle at the local convenience store. Yoongi was still wearing the same clothes from last night – black parka, black turtleneck, black jeans, black face mask. 

He mostly stared at the floor, following your boots. 

"White or black?"

Yoongi looked up to see you on the other side of the cart, holding two multi-packs of underwear. White briefs and black boxer briefs. He felt his cheeks heat up as you blinked at him. Instead of speaking, he grabbed the black boxer briefs from your hand, intending to chuck them into the cart.

Except his jacket sleeve caught a strand of your red sweater, the Velcro sticking to and unraveling it, so that when he twisted his hand to throw the plastic pack into the cart, the yarn tangled around his fingers and got caught, rapidly getting pulled around. Your eyes widened, gasping as the red string was yanked from your sweater. 

"O-oh!"

"Fuck!"

His hand was tangled in it and the part around your wrist tightened, the missing yarn causing the constriction. Yoongi cursed again, trying to shake free, panic rising. Oh no, fuck, what if you got angry? What if you started yelling at–?

You laughed. 

You started laughing. Yoongi froze, slowly lifting his head to witness your laughter. Your shoulders shook, shaking your head, big smile on your face. The yarn hung in the air, shaking a little.

The red string connecting you to him. 

Yoongi stared. 

At you.

His heart thudded in his chest. 

Thump. 

"Hold on," you chortled, reaching over and following the red yarn.

Thump.

His heart was like a bass drum. Consistent and loud, rhythm in his own ears. You untangled the mess slowly, carefully, wrapping the exposed end loosely around your wrist. Finally, it was off his fingers. Your fingers were centimeters from the back of his hand. You grasped the red yarn tightly. Yoongi looked at the end, trapped in the Velcro of his parka.

Thump. 

A fleeting feeling. 

Happiness.

You ripped the red yarn off, the end frizzy and scraggly. 

Another fluttering feeling. 

Sadness. 

You backed up, going back to the cart, tucking the end in next to your wrist, all chuckles. Thump, thump, thump. He couldn't breathe. It was impossible. What was going on? Why did he suddenly start shaking all over?

"I'm sorry," he blurted, breathless in panic. 

You shook your head, waving a hand. 

"Don't worry about it. This thing is old anyway." You pointed to the rack. "Is four enough? Or do you need more?"

"U-uh..."

"Let's get one more. I can always return it if you change your mind."

-

"Do you have a job to go to? Because I have to go soon," you were saying as you shoved the groceries into the fridge. Yoongi was unwrapping the plastic and cutting off the tags from the few clothing items you two had bought. 

"Um... yeah, I work at a music studio..." Yoongi mumbled. "I make my own hours."

"And it ends right before the last train, right?" you affirmed, nearly dropping the green onions and making a mad dash for them before they touched the ground. Whew. You shoved them back in your fridge. You didn’t really have an organization system. You probably should. Being an adult was hard.

"... Yeah."

"Cool, you should take a shower now then. I'll get a towel, hold on!"

You scrambled out of the kitchen to find a towel in the linen closet, the fridge door still open. 

"... Alright..."

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi spent the entire train ride tense. You sat in your usual spot, humming along, bobbing your head to your music in your earbuds. Neither of you attempted to sit next to the other. Yoongi fully expected his girlfriend to be there as he stepped out of the train, at the last stop. He thought he was going to get yelled at once again. He thought she would be there to smack him upside the head again. He braced himself as the doors opened, exhaling deeply as he walked out of the sliding doors.

"Ugh, I need some energy," you mumbled behind him, yawning. 

No one was there. 

The bright streetlamps only illuminated the concrete. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

He turned his head to see you tilting yours. 

"You coming?"

You bounced on your heels. He remembered your usual routine. 

"Wanna race?" you asked with a big grin. 

-

Morning. Night. Morning. Night. 

Empty station at the last stop. No one but you and him getting off. 

Morning. Night. 

"Hey, Yoongi."

Morning. 

"You coming?"

Night. 

“Wanna race?”

Repeat.

The cassette tape replayed over and over, flipped around in the stereo, day in, day out, stuck on replay, a weird reality that wasn't his until it became his, seeing your face when he woke up, watching you cook breakfast in the morning, chastising inanimate objects when you thought he wasn't looking.

Your lips asking him once again. 

"You coming?"

Then you and him, breaking out into a run, racing to your apartment. 

At first, Yoongi didn't smile. 

Then one day, he did. 

And he kept smiling, smiling as he ran breathlessly with you. 

-

"What are you doing?"

You froze. 

Literally one second before you heard those words, you had been wiggling your arms like an octopus in front on your full-length mirror, flapping the long sleeves of your over-sized blue sweatshirt, your billowy knee-length gray shorts following suit. You reached up to your Bluetooth headphones to take them off.

And realized, with heated cheeks, that the music was not coming from your headphones, but the Bluetooth speakers on your desk, blaring the odd twangs of guitar and quirky drum beats, paired with whiny, almost nonsensical lyrics. 

You turned around. 

Yoongi stood at the entrance of your bedroom door, staring. He was wearing a black t-shirt. Black sweatpants that were slightly too short, exposing his pale ankles. 

The song went into the guitar solo. 

He blinked at you. 

"Uh... dancing?"

Blink. 

Normally after work, Yoongi would either be asleep or watching television in your living room. You told him cable came with the apartment and you never watched TV, so he should at least watch some in your stead. You usually went to your room. The first couple nights, you only danced in your chair. Then you got up and danced next to your desk, and then you were back to your wacky mirror dancing, thinking that if it was though headphones, then Yoongi wouldn't notice. 

But, of course, you had disturbed him with your music blasting through the speakers, which had never been disconnected all this time because, well, how were you supposed to know? They must have connected because your over-ear headphones died.

"That was dancing?" Yoongi echoed.

Your eyes shifted. "Er... it's stress relieving?"

Yoongi stared at you.

Blink. 

The song changed. One of your favorites. 

Your shoulders began to bounce. Your head tapped to the beat. Then your heel. 

Blink. 

"Are you possessed?" Yoongi asked with a deadpan look. 

The tune was getting to the good bit with the xylophone. Fuck it. He had already seen you octopus it up. You began to bob your head from side to side, breaking out to a big grin, shooting him some finger guns before going back to your full-body jiggle and arm flapping, singing along on the top of your lungs, prancing around your room, Yoongi staring at you the entire time in mild shock. He probably thought you were psychotic, but who cared, because you were clapping along to the snare drum, skipping in circles, pointing at him at certain parts in the lyrics and playing air guitar. 

His normally downcast cat-like eyes were huge.

You grabbed his hands at the guitar solo and he yelped, his arms rippling as you swung them around, you stumbling through the lyrics, singing the absurd words, and Yoongi gawking wide-eyed.

The song went to the final chorus and you wiggled like a fucking squid. 

Only to see Yoongi burst out laughing and wiggle his arms with you, tiny wiggles compared to your full-blown tentacle swings, but it made you laugh too, because it was all stupid and ridiculous and very embarrassing. 

With a start, you realized you had seen Yoongi laugh. 

And he looked so wonderful laughing, perfect teeth and pink gums, huge smile and scrunched-up face, black hair falling back from the strength of his chuckling, revealing his lovely fair-skinned features and those cat-like eyes sparkling.

Sparkling with brightness. 

The song ended and you were panting breathlessly.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows in disbelief, half-smirk on his lips. 

"Your music taste is nuts."

You smiled as the next song started. 

"Nah, this is just my nighttime dance party music. It's supposed to be crazy."

You flapped your sleeves to the beat of the drum. Grinned at him. 

"Because every night should be a dance party."

And you started dancing again, Yoongi watching you and laughing, even joining in sometimes. 

From then on, every night was a dance party. At one point, Yoongi started to bring you songs and weird beats he discovered for you to dance to. He even said a few times, "Hey, I made this. Can you make a dance from it?"

You'd dance to anything. 

You weren't great at it. 

But it was always hilarious. 

And it was always worth it, watching Yoongi laugh all night. 

-

Pause. 

Fast forward. 

Wait. Are you sure?

You can always rewind. 

You don't have to press play. 

Pause.

Play. 

-

“Do you like rap?”

You were sitting next to Min Yoongi on the night train. There were still people around, not yet the last stop. He was clutching his phone, face mask on his chin. He looked a little nervous.

“Yeah, of course. I like all music,” you said cheerfully. “Something you want me to dance to?”

Yoongi chuckled a little, giving you that little half-smirk. “No.” He took a deep breath. “I’m a… music producer. And I… I make music. And I wondered if you wanted to listen to a little bit my mixtape.”

“I do.”

Yoongi looked taken aback. You grinned.

“I definitely want to listen to it.”

You connected your earbuds to his phone and listened carefully. His words, his beat, his rhythm. Yoongi sat beside you, wrapped in his black parka, looking nervous as he chewed on his lip, but you didn’t notice, bobbing your head to certain bits, mouthing the chorus, raising your eyebrows as he altered the framework of a traditional song. He had only five tracks on the playlist, but you listened to them all, holding his phone. When the playlist ended, you clicked back to your favorite parts and replayed them, over and over, listening to his strong, raspy voice.

Yoongi sounded confident when he was rapping.

Like he was meant to do it, perfectly expressing himself with his simple words and elegant phrasing, his anger, his sorrow, his hopes. You could tell there was an underlying theme, an uncertainty about the future. As if he was taking steps to an invisible, unlit path, and he wasn’t sure whether to run forward without a guiding light or go back to all he knew.

You handed him back his phone with a smile. You understood him a little better now.

“Well?” he asked, still biting his lip.

“I really like it,” you said. “Especially your vocals. It’s different from other voices I’ve heard.”

“… It’s not that–”

“And I like your lyrics. They’re simple, but they pack a punch and make you think.” You smiled widely. “I like music that makes me want to listen to it over and over again. That’s how your rap makes me feel.”

Yoongi looked stunned.

You pointed to his phone. “You could release it just like this, if you wanted.” You tilted your head. “Hm, maybe a few more songs though. It seems like you’re trying to tell a story.”

He blinked rapidly, putting his phone in his pocket. “Y-Yeah… I’m working on a few more that I want to add.”

You nodded. “That’d be awesome.”

The train screeched to a halt. There was no one in the car. That was your cue. You stood, stretching first and then shouldering your backpack. Yoongi stood as well, pensive and silent. The train doors slid open. He walked out first and you followed. Streetlights harsh and bright on the concrete. Yoongi did his usual routine of looking to the edge of the train station.

Both of you froze.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

You recognized her. She might be wearing a different dress and a different coat, but it was the same woman all right, with the same harsh scowl.

“I knew you wouldn’t be a man and face the music. Instead, you went off prancing with some whore.”

“She’s not a whore,” Yoongi muttered, pulling up his face mask.

You didn’t say anything. There was a sudden pressure on your chest, an overwhelming, tense heaviness, because you knew what was coming.

“Are you telling me that you’re not going to come home to the woman you supposedly love, the one you were supposedly going to marry and give a comfortable life to?” the woman accused. “Are you telling me that you can’t take responsibility for your actions? That you’re not a man, but a child?”

Yoongi took a step towards her.

The weight in your chest felt like a ton of bricks crushing you.

Another step.

“Yoongi.”

He turned his head, dark brown eyes flickering to you.

You smiled.

Smiled even though the moment was killing you.

“I… I have to finish this,” he mumbled, the sparkle in his eyes dulling with every passing second.

You kept the bright smile on your face.

Like a cheerful-sounding song with sad lyrics.

“Okay.”

Pause.

You wanted to rewind. You wanted to rewind so bad, even if it was only to ten minutes before this painful moment. With a shaking hand, you pressed play.

“My door is always open for you, Yoongi.”

He made eye contact with you. He nodded.

“Goodbye.”

You turned and ran.

Ran and ran, hoping he was running after you, but you knew he wasn’t, you knew he was walking towards that toxic woman and you could do nothing about it, you couldn’t care, you just had to keep running, running and running until you hit your front door, fumbling with your keys and running inside, slamming the door closed.

You froze.

You wanted to scream.

Instead, you ran to your room and threw up a specific playlist, a playlist full of cheerful-sounding songs with agonizing lyrics, hopeful beats tainted by upsetting words, and danced the night away, danced and danced. Not wanting to think about the blankets on the couch, the suitcase you had dragged out to let Yoongi borrow and put his clothes in, not wanting to think about his toothbrush on your bathroom sink, not wanting to think about all those nights dancing stupidly in this bedroom with him, and focusing only on dancing alone, singing the night away, on and on and on until you couldn’t stand anymore, couldn’t sing anymore, and you just fell on your bed and passed out, completely drained.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Empty.

-

3.

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masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #bts series #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you