#hanni.writes

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈 has freakishly cold hands, beyond normal. holding his hand was like holding ice cubes, they melt and seep, leaking through your fingers, the cold numbs the muscles making it harder and harder to articulate what little movement is left.

like now, you extend your arm so you can take his hypothermic hand in yours. it collides with your warmer complexion, heat is transferred from you to him, and chill is transferred from him to you—creating thermal equilibrium.

“your hands are so cold,” you say, shivering from the raw chill.

megumi only give you a brief, unreadable look before turning back to his phone. you decided to cup his hand in between your palms; one flat against his, and the other rubbing gently at his knuckles.

he feels a small breath of warm air make contact with his skin and directs his attention back at you. “what are you doing?”

giving you a questioning look when he sees you blowing warm air onto his hand, again. “warming you up, of course,” you look up at him, offering him a smile you know he favours.

he looks away for a moment when his face blooms with heat. speaking more quietly this time.

“i’m not cold.”

“whatever you say.” your smile persists and you chuckle as you blow onto his hand once more.

megumi who always wakes up before you do. oh, and he also thinks you are the most beautiful person on earth.

you’re awaken from your sleep by a feather light touch against the line of your jaw; moving up and down from your cheekbone to your chin. up to your bottom lip and back done to your jaw. you lay with your eyes shut for a few minutes in complete silence just enjoying the touch of megumis thumb against your face.

after a while you blink open your eyes focusing your gaze on megumi next to you. his eyes are looking down at your lips you presumed because they were just below your eyes. you swallow and speak in a gentle whisper almost like it’s something forbidden, “what are you doing?”

megumi blinks once. then twice. the thrice. “nothing,” he pauses the motion of his finger before speaking, he glances up at your eyes and then back down at your lips before continuing.

you huff out a silent laugh as he strokes your jaw with the pad of his thumb. “i don’t think it’s nothing,” you let your eyes shut and begin to lean into his touch. after a moment you feel the brush of his lips against your jaw and then briefly over your lips, before he pulls away he whispering something against them:

“i’m looking at you.” his words are breathless like he had just ran a marathon, but at the same time they are calm and relaxed and just barely there, like he might disappear at any given moment.

you smile softly, “anything specific?” Heat makes its way into your face, and a funny feeling in your chest like a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering and amazing the human eye.

he looks into your eyes and there’s a strange look on his face, one you have not yet seen before. and you think i might just be love.

“no, just you.”

his eyes gleam with want as you pull away from his spit covered lips, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you. his palms linger on your cheeks as he tries to go back in for a kiss—needy for more as always.

you glance down to his lips and then back to his eyes, you notice his extremely flushed face—rosy cheeks, coral lips, the bottom one hanging agape. you bring your hand to his cheek and swipe your thumb over the heat blooming across his skin.

“zanka, you’re so cute when you blush.” your voice is barely above a whisper. you place a kiss to his cheek, and then to the other side. this makes zanka 10 times more flustered, he can barely contain the smile that’s now growing over his lips. he tries to suppress the muscles, but they persist.

“i ain’t cute,” he says, dropping his hands from your face and moving his head to the side to try and hide his very obvious blush. “and i ain’t blushin’.”

you laugh at his shyness, using your hands that were still cupping his cheeks to maneuver his head back to face you. you succeed and place a peck to his nose this time, your own unrestrained smile hung over your lips. “liar.”

you laugh once more at him, no malicious intent behind the action. zanka looks down into your lap and whispering, embarrassed, “shut up…”

you and zanka barely ever got a chance to be alone, partly your fault. you often like to make him chase you around hq as a sort of game, to put it mildly. some days you would spy on him from the corner of a wall, peaking over the edge just enough to see his frustrated face and clenched fists. for the most part he’s quite calm about it, but other times, not so much. you would say it depended on the day, and on how long you chose to tease him.

the other part was that you two were parts of different teams; going out together was a rare occurrence. so, days off, and the coincidence of being at cleaners hq at the same time, were the only moments you two spend together.

like today, a serendipitous day off, and of course it would be no fun if you didn’t make it a challenge for him to track you down, only to find you in his room. absurd, he thought—when he found you laying on your stomach, legs kicking in the air, doing what seemed like picking at your nails, perhaps, on his bed.

and now, he kissed and nipped at the soft skin of your neck, darting his tongue out to swipe it over your pulse. and his hands were wondering far more than they usually would.

you knew he was already flustered, why not make it worse, you thought. as zanka detached his lips from you neck to bring them back to your lips, you’re quick to kiss his neck like he did yours—just with much more calculation. slow, gentle, and all too passionate. you move up to his jaw, leaving saliva in your wake as you move up to the side of your face, close to his ear.

and then you stop, letting your mouth linger open to whisper something provocative into his ear. “are you sure…zanka?” you say, with a smug grin.

his name his hits his ears like a sneak attack from a trash beast. a rose-coloured blush blooms in his cheeks, and he drops his forehead to lean against your shoulder, completely whipped by the sound of your tingling whispering in his ear, and by the way your lips just barely brushed against the frail skin.

zanka swallows, hard. and quietly whispers back to you. “do ya have’ta say it like that…” it only makes you smile harder.

“megumi, stop looking at me, it’s distracting,” your voice is shy and just barely above a whisperer, the pen you’re holding is slightly trembling in your hand, and whatever it was that you were going to write down has now completely vanished from your mind by the nagging eyes that were shooting lasers into the side of your face.

his gaze does not drop to the page nor does he even bother blinking. “you’re doing fine,” he speaks in a calm tone, “keep writing.” he points with his chin to the pice of paper that laid on the table.

you swallow the lump in your throat, there seems to have developed a few beads of sweat on the back of your neck. the air felt weirdly humid—sweaty is a more appropriate word to describe it. unpleasantly sweaty and sticky. you relaxed the intense grip you didn’t even know you had on the pen in your hand, and when you put the pen down you felt the air make contact with your sweaty skin. “i can’t…i can’t remember anything.” you say, and the words are much too quiet than you originally intended them to be.

megumi finally rips his eyes away from your face and looks down at the pen you put down. “just try,” he coaxes you, placing a firm hand on your lower back, while his other hand reaches to pick up your pen and hand it right back to you.

you take it and let out an almost shaky sigh and avert your gaze towards him. his face is not any less stoic than it normally is but you know something is up by the sly glint in his eyes. “you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” you squint your eyes slightly at him and tilt you head to the side.

the two of you have a short staring contest but you’re the first to blink, luck just wasn’t on your side tonight, clearly not. you had hoped to finish this last bit of work megumi had given you, but here he is distracting you. unprofessional behaviour for a tutor if you were to be frank. and also considering the hand that was now rubbing the exposed skin of your back (when did he manage to slip his hand under my shirt?).

you turn your head back to the page ready to began where you left off, but from the corner of your eye you can see megumi move in closer. his face was now barely touching yours; you could feel his lips brush the lobe of your ear. and then, you hear him whisper in a soft sultry voice: “i’m not doing anything.”

“why are you ignoring me?”

you had seen zanka sitting all alone in the common room. just like you had been a week ago when zanka looked like he wanted to tell you something but couldn’t spit it out. that was also the last time you talked to him. you tried, many times, to talk to him, but he just kept on avoiding you, even when you would call his name out in front of a few too many people, all he would do is ignore you.

you really hated this feeling you had. your chest was all tight and your mind wouldn’t leave you alone; had you don’t something wrong? had you hurt his feelings? so many questions that only he could answer.

zanka looks up at you from where he sat, looking around like he wasn’t aware that he was the only person in here. “me?”

you roll your eyes at him. “yes, you.”

chef!sae who has a habit of saying ‘behind’ when passing by you in the kitchen. at first you didn’t think anything of it because he must have picked it up from work, but later when he would linger behind you for a bit too long, looking over your shoulder, sometimes even placing his hands firmly on your hips.

“behind,” he says, and again instead of walking off to wherever it was he was headed, sae places his hand on your hips and nuzzles his noes into the crook of your neck.

you let out a soft giggle when the lip of his noes tickles your skin. “uh sae…” your words trail off and your hands freeze on the spot so you don’t accidentally chop a finger or two off.

“mmmhmm,” he croons.

“i don’t think you’re supposed to do this when you say that.” you say, a bit unsure and distracted as he kissed from the side of your neck down to your sternal notch, fingers inching up under your shirt playing with the hem of it.

he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t stop sucking on your skin. “really now?”

“pretty sure.” you giggle again when his noes brushes up against a particularly ticklish spot.

“i’ll stop than,” he says, slowly pulling his lips away from your neck, and his hands from your waist.

but you’re quick to protest, “i didn’t say you had to stop.”