#miowrites

of course, teru had no idea what was in store for him. he had never really interacted with natsuhiko outside of school, just passing glances and quick hellos. for someone to ask him out so directly, isn’t new to him; what was new was how quick teru found himself agreeing to it. usually, teru would always come up with excuses as to why he couldn’t go, but this time it was different. admittedly, teru could feel excitement bubbling up within him.

thing was, he had no idea natsuhiko drove a fucking motorcycle. minamoto had never rode on one, he was always somewhat a sheltered child. this made him even more excited about going out with natsuhiko, who never told him where they were actually going still. whenever asked, natsuhiko would smile and say ‘you’ll see’. 

for whatever reason, natsuhiko made him feel so childish. hugging him by the waist at the back of his bike filled teru with such glee, it was slightly embarrassing for him; it didn’t help that natsuhiko poked fun at him for holding on so tightly either.

“natsuhiko, when did you learn to drive a bike like this?” teru pressed his cheek onto natsuhiko’s shoulders, noting the fact natsuhiko had a strong scent of cheap cologne and candy. 

“hmm...maybe when i was 15” natsuhiko hummed, smugness laced in his voice. teru could tell he took pride in learning to ride at such a young age, which made him laugh lightly. the conversation died back down to comfortable silence. normally, teru would never allow himself to be so relaxed and close to someone he was unfamiliar with, but natsuhiko had a aura to him. it was like anyone who talked to him could feel at ease with him, truthfully teru was jealous of that.

after another twenty minutes of driving, natsuhiko finally slowed down and parked near a building with a weirdly shaped red rooftop. teru didn’t recognize this place, must’ve been another thing he was missing out on.

“you can let go now, you know” natsu teased, smirking when the realization hit teru’s face, that he was still holding onto him. teru quickly pushed himself off the bike and handed the white helmet back to natsuhiko, his helmet that he insisted teru wore. teru smiled awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck; causing natsu to lightly punch him in the arm telling him to lighten up.

“so, where are we?” this comment made natsuhiko stop dead in his tracks, he turned over to minamoto with a confused look on his face, that then turned into him holding back a laugh.

“you...you don’t know what mcdonalds is?” teru nodded, natsuhiko was in disbhelief. he had a feeling teru was pretty disconnected with the outside world (from what akane had told him), but this was just ridiculous. natsuhiko shook his head and told him to follow, he was going to show him the wonders of the mcflurry.

“isn’t this just icecream-”

“just eat it.”

“but its-”

“eat it.”

“natsu-” natsuhiko shoved the black spoon into teru’s mouth. he watched his dumbfounded slowly shift into a look of delight. natsuhiko could practically see teru’s eyes dilate and hearts form in his pupils; natsuhiko sighed, he really was a child.

“is it good?” teru nodded, taking the spoon out of natsu’s hands and eating it himself. it was so sweet he never had anything like this before. whenever minamoto tried anything new, he had the habit of unintentionally reverting back into a child. with each bite, teru hummed to himself. he hadn’t even noticed natsuhiko’s stare at him.

“hey minamoto” teru didn’t bother to look up at the mention of his name, to busy enjoying the treat natsuhiko had bought him. natsu sighed and leaned over the table. his hand cupped teru’s cheek, which made him freeze for a moment. natsuhiko gently rubbed the excess icecream off the sides of teru’s lips with his thumb. teru looked up at natsuhiko with a curious gaze, heart slightly fluttering.

“you eat like a baby” natsuhiko smiled, sitting back down; not before licking his thumb clean. “you taste sweet, minamoto” natsuhiko laughed, mostly ad teru’s reaction; which was just his face slowly turning red with a dumbfounded expression. 

teru put down the spoon, smiling into his cup. he could feel his heart racing with excitement, nobody has ever been this direct with him. and even if they have, minamoto has never felt this excited about something so small and cheesy. natsuhiko’s laughter died down when he felt a cool hand pressed against his cheek, teru’s hand.

“...your hands feel dead” natsuhiko commented thoughtlessly, he had no idea what to think, what the hell was minamoto gonna do? teru hummed in response, leaning in to press his lips onto the others cheek. after, teru went back to eating his mcflurry in peace. natsuhiko didn’t react, what the hell was he supposed to say???? before he could ask, teru snorted. 

“you wanted to kiss me right? usually people ask”

© natsuteru. <3

after several weeks of becoming sakura’s partner, natsuhiko made it his mission to better understand his, “partner in crime” as he calls it, better. of course, sakura paid no mind to his shenanigans, too preoccupied with tsukasa’s plans to care. though, she never did put an end to it either.

natsuhiko started small, he watched over sakura while he cleaned around the broadcast room. his little “sakura watch” has led him to new discoveries about her. for one, sakura liked astronomy, something natsuhiko would’ve never guessed from her outward appearance. he often found sakura reading about the constellations and the different meanings throughout history and in different cultures. natsu took note of this and decided to ask her about it another time.

another thing natsuhiko has learned is that sakura is fond of teas. it seemed that sakura had a collection of different types of teas, most of them originating outside of japan. the weird thing about that was, despite sakura normally drinking tea, she always had a faint smell of coffee. it was a sweet and homey smell, it only made it more pleasant to be around her honestly.

there were other things natsuhiko had noticed as well, all relatively small things; sakura has a habit of dog-earring her personal books but when borrowing books she always carries around her own yellowish-gold bookmark. or how sakura always had a slight pout in her frown, something natsuhiko had grown to love. when natsu would focus on her lips, he had noted that she had beauty marks as well; one under her lip, one on her pinkie finger, and one on her neck. natsuhiko had often found himself fantasizing about kissing the one under her lips.

slowly but surely, natsuhiko had grown to adore each of sakura’s features and little habits. he hadn’t realized this of course, not until sakura finally spoke up about his staring.

“why are you staring at me like that, natsuhiko?” sakura sighed, closing her book. when she turned to face him, natsuhiko had suddenly felt an intense overwhelming, and unfamiliar feeling washes over him. words caught in his throat, unable to speak proper sentences, natsuhiko sat there with a dumbfounded look on his face. up until now, sakura had never looked at him directly like this before, she had always kept her gaze down to the ground.

sakura sighed once again, shaking her head as he turned back to what she was doing before. “you know it’s rude to stare at someone like that?” she commented, paying no mind to the slightly embarrassed look natsuhiko had. natsuhiko had no idea what that was, that was the first time someone had ever rendered him speechless.

“sakura…” natsuhiko blurted out, her name felt so foreign on his tongue. sakura turned towards him once more, only this time she didn’t spare him a look, yet natsuhiko could tell her attention was all on him.

“you like kamairicha tea, right?” natsuhiko had no clue as to what he was saying, but nanamine had looked up to him with a curious gaze and he took it as a good sign. “what about kamairicha-” before nanamine could finish, natsuhiko cut her off with another question.

“sakura...would you like to have kamairicha with me…”

“what?”

what the hell was he thinking, natsuhiko has no idea how to prepare tea! yet here he was, nervously serving tea to sakura, who hadn’t spoken a word for several minutes. natsuhiko was starting to get anxious, his hands began getting clammy and shaky. but he still hid behind that confident persona of his.

“i didn’t know you knew how to make tea, natsuhiko” sakura broke the silence, taking a sip of the green tea. ‘yeah me neither’ natsuhiko thought. sakura hummed at the taste, she could tell it was made by a total amateur but, it still had its sweet taste. natsuhiko took a sip of his own. sakura let out a light airy laugh.

“natsuhiko, are you sure this is kamairicha? this tastes like licorice root” sakura smiled contently, but natsuhiko was internally panicking. did he pick the wrong one?? she can tell?? sakura noticed his nervousness and waved a hand,

“it’s fine, i like this one too. it’s not bad for your first time” she reassured or at least tried to. natsuhiko was beating himself up at the thought of messing up something so simple. he doesn’t know shit about teas!

natsuhiko needed an excuse to change the conversation, to save himself from further embarrassment. he looked around the room before his eyes landed on sakura’s hair, more specifically the two twin braids in her head.

“say uhm, what's with the braids? i’ve never seen anyone with that kind of style before” natsu laughed awkwardly, taking another sip of the sweet tea. sakura reached up to her hair, lightly tracing the braid on her right side before humming in thought.

“when i was little, my mom used to braid my hair this way.” sakura stared into her cup. natsuhiko perked up at the mention of her mother, sakura’s finally opening up? after like what, a month?

“your mother?” the comment flew out of natsuhiko’s mouth without thinking, instantly regretting it when he saw the frown on sakura’s lips. shit, did he say something wrong? what if it was a sensitive topic? did he just fuck up again? sakura let out a sigh before looking up to the ceiling. it was silent for a moment, maybe to sakura it was a calm and peaceful silence of her pondering about what to say, but to natsuhiko it was torture.

“....yeah my mother.” was all nanamine said before getting up from her seat. she slightly bowed before putting the teacup back on the tray in the center of the table. “thank you, natsuhiko. i enjoyed my time here with you, but i must get back to work” sakura reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a green tea packet. she put the packet in natsuhiko’s hands with a slight smile.

“this is kamaircicha. for next time, of course” with that, sakura took her leave. natsuhiko stared down at the packet in his hands, he could feel his heart racing and his head buzzing with confusion. after a whole month he still couldn’t figure out what sakura’s deal was. she truly was a mystery.

© natsuteru. <3

aoi has always been reserved. even since childhood, she’s kept to herself, always keeping others at arm’s length. she never truly knew why either, was it to keep herself from getting hurt? keeping others from knowing the true her? aoi wasn’t exactly sure. one thing aoi’s sure about though, is that nene is the first person to actually get close to knowing the real aoi.

as much as aoi cherishes nene as a friend, maybe even more, she doesn’t want nene to get too close. the fear of abandonment is too strong, her heads always filled with doubt. thoughts always telling her that once nene gets to see the real side of her friend, she’ll leave. 

nene’s the polar opposite of aoi. she’s a social butterfly who wears her heart on her sleeve, for all to see. she gets along with just about anyone, always so friendly and nice. her kindness isn’t a facade, unlike aoi’s. some nights, aoi wonders why nene has stayed for as long as she did. she’s known her since middle school, watched nene grow up to be the popular cheerleader she is today. on those nights, aoi wishes she could let nene in more. she wants to be closer to nene, more than a classmate, more than her friend, her best friend. but doubts fill her head further, the same fears as before. ‘maybe one day’ she thinks, knowing it’s just wishful thinking.

“Wher-“

“Same one you use; two blocks South with the black awning.”

“You’re a gem.” James chirps as he jogs out of the building, the midday chime just echoing out through the streets as he decides to walk.

Suits were James Bond’s guilty pleasure and private fascination. There was nothing more flattering on a male figure- in his opinion, not counting completely without clothing of course- than a finely fitted suit. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that he looked good in his carefully selected wardrobe, and the feeling of running his hands down those crisp lapels and categorizing the different blends of wools and microfibers made vibrations of pleasure run along his nerves. James Bond could appreciate fine suits. He could appreciate them even more when they were on a body that was as fine as his Quatermaster’s. He moved with the same calm poise he did when heading for a target as he turned to enter the shop Q was in. James prided himself on only pausing for a split second to adjust his heather gray suit coat with his matching trousers and white button up, open at the neck.

His eyes were easily drawn to Q, with his mop of black hair popping up over the racks where he stood on a measuring block, face looking sour. James sized him up easily, eyes lingering in all the right places as he moved to pick out a creme tinted shirt that would match his skin tone nicely.

“Here.” James said politely, holding the shirt out to his Quatermaster and holding back a small grin when the other man jumps a bit. “I think you’ll find that this collar will accentuate your neck in a lovely way.” Which could be dangerous to man-kind, James muses, as Q’s neck was already rather distracting.

“Double oh seven.” Q groans quietly taking the shirt with fumbling fingers. “I’m being helped you know. By anattendant. There is no need for you to be waltzing about when you could be resting. I’d imagine that running about in Calcutta can be quite exhausting.”

“And miss the chance to dress you properly? Never. Now let’s see about trousers…” James murmurs, using Q’s momentary surprise to slide efficient and assessing hands along Q’s thigh, getting a slap on the head when his fingers drift close to Q’s arse.

“Bond!” Q hisses, glancing around quickly. “Please refrain from groping at me in the middle of a suit shop”

“So I can do it elsewhere?” he asks lightly before ushering Q off towards a dressing room. “I’ll have to remember that. Pop this shirt on and I’ll be right back.”

After pulling the curtain closed on a blushing, stammering, and bewildered Q, James slips a few notes to Q’s original attendant in order to encourage an early lunch break and sets off to find the rest of Q’s future attire. James selects a charcoal black set of trousers and jacket as well as a pair of square toed black shoes and a white, knit, skinny tie; all of which he hands to Q with a wink once he returns to the dressing room.

“Bond, this really isn’t-“

“Just put it on, Q. I trust you with many things because I know you’re an expert. Now trust me in an area I know quite well.” The thought of seeing Q in the outfit he just picked out nearly has him dizzy, but he makes sure his face conveys only a cool confidence as Q slides the curtain aside after a few minutes of rustling.

“I’ll give it to you, double oh. This looks surprisingly nice.” Q admits, flashing James a sheepish smile, his hair ruffled from the change and his figure as well as creamy skin accentuatedperfectly.

“Nice,” James starts after coughing politely in an attempt to cleat the husky quality from his voice. “Isn’t the adjective I would have chosen.” He know his face slips for a moment, and he knows that Q catches it by the rapid sequence of confusion, realization, and smug pleasure that plays across his face. 

“Should I be expecting you at my workshop, Bond?” he asks with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll be dying to see your handy work up on the stage.”

“Oh?” James purrs as he takes a few slow and measured steps towards Q. “Shall you be putting on a show, then?”

“Not the type of show you’re accustomed to, I’m afraid. No explosions or scantily clad lapdancers.” Q backs up until the backs of his thighs hit the chair he had draped his cardigan on, his eyes growing heavy as the two of them crowd the small space. “The explosions I could do if they wouldn’t scare half of the attendees to death, but for the lapdancing I haven’t the slightest idea. I’ve never actually seen one done before.”

“No? It’s quite simple once you’ve seen one done and just as simple to practice.” James pushes Q down into the chair with a light push on his chest and turns to slide the curtain closed. “Since I’m already teaching you how to pick out proper attire, I might as well teach you this as well.” He waits for Q’s consent, taking the hand that grabs onto his belt and pulls him forward to be exactly that. With a pleased chuckle, James stoops to tug off Q’s shoes before divesting him of the new trousers, leaving Q in a pair of garishly orange boxer briefs.

“It’s nearly laundry day.” he explains, breathing shallow and pupils blown as he watches James crisply fold the pants and hang them carefully as to avoid creasing.

With them out of the equation, James straddles Q’s lap and starts to slowly circle his hips, running his fingers along the fine material that rests on Q’s shoulders with a quiet hum of appreciation.  Thirty percent wool blends are always lovely this time of year.

James takes Q’s thrown back head as an invitation to taste that perfect skin as his tongue and teeth move in counter point with his hips. It’s never enough pressure to leave anything as crass as a hickey, but it is certainly enough to make Q whine softly and buck his hips. James decides that he’ll be spending quite a lot of time in Q branch, from that point forward. Well, more than he does already. He swivels his hips in a figure eight that has the friction burning up his spine and Q pushing a trembling hand at his chest.

“L-let’s not go so far as these nice clothes get ruined, yes?” Q murmurs, looking at Bond with heated eyes and flushed skin.

James stands up quickly in direct opposite to his desire to pin the Quatermaster up against a wall and snog him senseless. “Yes, of course. My apologies. I’ll just be outside then.”

“Don’t go far,” Q says, lightly dragging a hand down James’ arm. “I’ll pay for these and then make us some lunch at my flat.” He pauses a beat, grinning as he starts to undo the tie. “I may not know much, but I do know that some kind of payment is in order. Especially if you’re to give me a few more lessons before my presentation.”

Q ends up being fifteen minutes late when he returns to work for his class, and he makes Bond sit through the entire workshop as a result.

It was the heat, he decided, that made everything worth it. That made this entire situation something that Sebastian could bear where he typically would have grabbed a bag and shoved off.

It wasn’t the first time Jim had chased him away. It wouldn’t be the last.

Stretched out against the wrought iron steps of their fire escape, Sebastian let the heat of summer curl around him like a protective cocoon; drawing pin pricks of sweat along his body and searing his skin, where it made contact with the heated metal of the stairs.

He had never been a shorts guy. Shoes and a proper shirt were optional, though.

The weather reminded him of his deployment. Sure, the temperature wasn’t nearly as unbearable but the forced endurance of it was old hat, and maybe that was why it felt a bit like home even though he sat locked outside the place he had been calling home for a while now.

It was whatever. He had certainly had it worse before and at least out here he could smoke, he mused, watching delicate wisps of smoke trail from in front of his nose and up, up, up into the city sky. Sebastian took a deep drag on his cigarette before forming his mouth into an ‘O’ shape and failing horribly at blowing a smoke ring. For some reason that’s one of the funniest things he’s seen in a while—probably because it’s the closest thing to ‘fun’ he’s done since forever—and before he can help himself, Sebastian is in a stitch of muffled laughter, cigarette dangling precariously from his lips.

But of course that’s when the window slams open and the bringer of doom and gloom himself sticks his head out with a face contorted in rage.

“Why do you think I sent you outside, Sebastian?” Jim asks, voice sickly sweet, as his hands curl tightly on the window sill.

Sebastian watches him from under half-lidded eyes, diaphragm still twitching slightly with mirth. It would take far more energy than he has right now to answer Jim, even if he had something to say.

Which he doesn’t.

It would help if the other man would close the window. The air conditioning is slinking out into the open and Seb can feel the cold tendrils of it wrapping around his ankles and making their way up, sapping his warmth and raising goose bumps along his skin.  

Jim’s left eyebrow twitches in irritation at the lack of a response. It’s a tell, but one that Jim shows on purpose, like everything else the man does.

“I know you don’t know much about the logistics of heists…”

Fuck you, I studied Physics at University.

“…But, math like that is just oh so complicated. I would really appreciate some, come on now, and say it with me.”

He blows another smoke ring, or oval, to be politically correct. At least it’s round this time.

“Silence.” Jim grits out, whipping his hand through the smoke.

Sebastian plucks his cigarette from his mouth and flicks it over the railing, watching as the embers burn bright for a split second before extinguishing on their trip to earth.

“Sorry, Boss.” he replies, conforming to Jim’s mood for the time being, as he stoops to the window.

Stepping aside, Jim lets him enter, waiting for Sebastian to stand up before closing the window and ghosting his fingers down the defined muscle in the sniper’s arm.

“That’s a good pet.” He murmurs before flitting out of the room, presumably to go back to his office.