#How To Get Your Ex Back In 24 Hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heartsfromia · 6 months ago

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knight in shining armor — j. wonwoo

pairing: non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader

word count: 7,350

genre: fluff, angst, mild crack, college setting

warnings: cheating (not wonwoo tho our boy is sweet, it's reader's shitty ex), curse words, implicit violence (black eyes, cuts on lips mentioned)

author's notes: y'all pray that one day i have the energy to proofread my works ;_____; BRO I STG I WORKED ON THIS FOR OVER THREE MONTHS AND IDK HOW IT GOT SOOO LONG T___________T

“Hey, I’m planning on finishing my paper for International Law in Holly’s, come with me?”

With your hands intertwined with your boyfriend, Hanwoo, the two of you walked towards the parking lot by your university, just having finished a class together. You were hoping to spend some time together since Hanwoo had been preoccupied with the major association he’s a member in, as the collegial organization is holding its elections in the next week and he had been approached to help out as a committee member. Since the two of you have the same classes together, and the paper was due next Monday (it being a Thursday now), you thought you could get, at least the introduction down, while having some quality time in the 24 hour café with your boyfriend of six months.

“We’ll be there all night and you can distract me from my paper and I will do the same to you, and then we can down a ton of caffeine before passing out on the bean bags they have,” you tried to convince him, leaning into his side as you two approached his car. “And then we can go home and talk about how we should’ve finished our paper, plan another night in Holly’s and do it all over again!”

“Although that does sound tempting,” Hanwoo began, releasing your hand to reach for the car keys and unlocked the doors. He leaned down to be eye-level with you, as his hand reached for the door handle of the passenger seat, he uttered, “But, I have a meeting later tonight.” Pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, he pulled your door open and stepped aside enter the car. A pout found its way to your lips, pulling your favorite move to get what you want, but he wasn’t budging and only nodded his head for you to climb in.

“What meeting?” You asked once he climbed into the driver’s seat, pulling the car out of the parking lot and on your way to your house to drop you off.

“The election, since Monday evening will be the debate between president and vice president candidates, so we need to discuss the topics of the debate, all the technical stuff tonight,” he explained, “we’re planning on pushing a lot we need done between today and tomorrow, so we can have the weekends free and do finishing touches on Monday.”

“Ahh, being Event Organizer really isn’t easy… so you’ll be busy today, and tomorrow?” He only nodded, briefly sending a small smile her direction. “Alright, then, I’ll just see if Wonwoo is free tonight.”

Hanwoo threw his head back, asking, “Isn’t Wonwoo a Computer Science major?”

“Yeah, but he’s really good at research so I think he can help.” Hanwoo didn’t bother asking more, turning the music up to let it fill the silence as you arrived by the driveway of your house. “Good luck on your paper, yeah? Don’t drink too much coffee.”

“No promises,” you responded before kissing his cheek and climbing out his car. You waved him off, watching as the car disappeared in the distance before turning to head inside and up to your room just left of the entryway. Tossing your bag on your chair, you flopped on to your bed, too mentally exhausted from the three lectures today to even change your clothes, feeling sleep begin to fog your head. You were on the edge of dreamland when you heard a clink, then a few seconds later another one, and then another one, and it seemed to be never ending before you pulled yourself out of your drowsiness and headed to your window—which just so happened to be adjacent to your next door neighbor, Wonwoo’s window.

“You seriously need to reconsider throwing rocks at my window before you shatter it, Wonwoo.” Your neighbor only chuckled, so you took this as an opportunity. “Hey, can you come with to Holly’s? I’m planning to stay overnight there.”

“What for?”

“I’m holding an executive meeting for us to discuss a ten-step plan to overthrow our government,” you grinned, and he pondered, tapping his chin lightly before shaking his head.

“I can’t overthrow the government yet, I have a quiz tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping your lips. You could always count Wonwoo to go along with your poor attempts at sarcasm. “I have a paper to work on and I don’t want to be alone.”

“Where’s your boyfriend? What’s his name? Yohan?”

“So close! It’s Hanwoo,” you retorted with a deadpan as you reminded him of your boyfriend’s name. Wonwoo hasn’t been discreet in his distaste towards your boyfriend—it’s been six months since he asked you out, and it’s been six months of Wonwoo never remembering his name. “He has a meeting today since the upcoming election debate for my major’s organization.”

“Is he running or…?” Wonwoo asked, despite his lack of interest with the topic.

“No, he’s the EO, and will be occupied for the next couple of days.”

“Aah, so I’m a back-up to you? Got it.” You knew he was being sarcastic, it was a running joke between the two of you since splitting when choosing college majors—you had done the same when he asked you to accompany him to watch a movie he really wanted to see, only to find out he came to you because friends from his major were busy.

“Do you want to come with me or not?” You asked again, “you don’t need to if you don’t want to.”

“What time?” Wonwoo asked, not hesitating. “Eomma is making dinner tonight, and asked me to ask you to join in case your parents are working late.”

You turn briefly, listening in to your parent’s room across from yours and can hear the muffle conversation behind the walls. “I think they’re home, but knowing my dad, he won’t be cooking so I think all three of us can head over to your place for dinner?”

“Sure, I’ll tell Eomma,” Wonwoo informed, “so after dinner then, we can go? Did you ask your parents for permission to spend the night working on the assignment.”

Dread immediately washed over you, colour draining from your face and to your feet as you remembered you haven’t asked permission from your parents, especially your dad who isn’t fond of you working long hours for an assignment you could’ve finished from when it was assigned. Force habit, dad, it’s not my fault you raised a chronic procrastinator, you couldn’t help but think. An innocent chuckle left your lips as you pulled your signature puppy-dog eyes to Wonwoo, who—without you having to utter a single word—understood what you were doing.

He heaved a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, I’ll ask them.”

“You are the best! Did you know that you’re the best person I’ve ever met? You’re absolutely awesome, smart and so, so, so kind, Wonwoo!” You blew a kiss in his direction, like how you watched Sunjae in Lovely Runner do so. “Love you!”

He waved your exaggerated gestures off, ignoring the heat forming in his cheeks and spreading to his ears, as he turned away, yelling back at you, “Yeah, yeah, just hurry up, I want to get this over with.”

“When do you think International Humanitarian Law is applicable?” You turned to Wonwoo after reading (re: skimming) a journal regarding the topic for your paper. Despite having only been studying the material for about twenty minutes, you could feel yourself losing it by the second. You didn’t hate International Law, but you always thought that the professor assigned too much reading, and is so strict about the entire paper itself—specifically using APA style, it has to only be footnotes (no in-line citations, despite that being the easiest in your opinion and you always preferred Chicago over any other reference style).

Oh, and the International Law professor is biased and lowkey a bitch.

So, being reluctant to work on an assignment given by your major’s most disliked professor wasn’t a priority even with the deadline closing in.

“During world conflicts?” You and Wonwoo stared at each other briefly, before you nodded, “That is true.” Wonwoo stifled a laugh. Seeing you look so drained and empty every single time you worked on an assignment, never failed to make him laugh. He enjoyed accompanying you, and despite the different majors and study programs you both have, he always tried to make sure he is more help than company. Even though you never really wanted to help you work on the assignment, knowing he has his own to deal with as a Computer Science major, but he’s well aware of your habits that even if the due date is Monday and you are working on it right now, you won’t completely finish it until Sunday, if not with Wonwoo’s aid.

“What’s the paper about?”

“The application of International Humanitarian Law in a specific study case,” you responded, tone flat. The more you talked about it, the more your soul was being sucked into the void. “I chose the Femicides in El Salvador.”

“Alright.” Was all Wonwoo said before he opened Google Scholar and began his own little research.

“Wonwoo, you don’t have to—”

“Y/N?” Cut off mid-sentence, you and Wonwoo turned to find Joy approaching your table, her hair tied and a lanyard around her neck, she must’ve just gotten back from campus.

“Joy? Hi, what are you doing here?” You smiled, internally sighing in relief because you had a reason to not look at the journal you were reading of femicide reports in the past decade.

“I just came back from an internal meeting with the EO’s for the upcoming debate,” Joy responded, noticing Wonwoo and waving at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working on Michelle’s paper,” you answered, exaggerating the slouch in your shoulders and pout in your lips. You then realized, sitting up straight, head cocked to the side with your brows furrowed. “Wait, you’re an EO for the debate?”

Joy pulled a chair to sit across from you, resting her arms on the table and nodded.

“So you were with Hanwoo?”

It was her turn to furrow her brows. “Your boyfriend?” You nodded, and she shook her head. “No I wasn’t.”

“What? But he told me he was having a meeting with the EO’s for the debate, maybe you didn’t see them?”

The crease between your friend’s brow only deepened. “Y/N, the EO’s are only four people, not including the PIC—I’ve also met them all, and Hanwoo isn’t a part of us.”

“That’s weird,” you muttered. Did your boyfriend lie?

“Maybe he got his position switched? Maybe he’s not an EO? You could try asking tomorrow,” Joy tried to reason, and you only nodded. Hanwoo had been telling you that he was an EO for the past couple of weeks, ever since the announcement of election was released for the major association. He explained to you in great detail what the position would entail, and well, frankly speaking, you trusted him. It tugged at your chest at the possibility he might’ve lied to you.

And Wonwoo can see it. The deep glare in your eyes as you stared at the article you were reading, but you weren’t actually reading the reports from representatives of the El Salvadoran government, instead you were reading into the situation with your boyfriend. Gears were turning in your head, making connections, coming up with excuses as to why he had chosen to lie to you about something as trifling as his position in a collegial committee. He could tell that no matter how many paragraphs you read, how many relative research articles you pulled up from the internet, nothing will allow you to progress in your paper until the nagging feeling of your fibbing boyfriend is at ease.

“Y/N, do you want to head back home, call it a night?” Wonwoo asked, before quickly raising his phone, “My brother just sent me a text, that he needs the car early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, yeah sure, let me just pay—”

“You pack up, I’ll pay for our food.”

You knew that he knew. Your lips pressed into a tight smile, “Thanks, Won.” He nodded, returning your smile before heading to the counter.

“Should we continue tomorrow night, then?” Joy asked. You nodded. “Sure,” then added, “depends though.”

On whether or not your boyfriend is lying.

“Wonwoo, do you have notes from Beom’s class? Last weeks’?” Seungcheol sat across from Wonwoo in the cafeteria, picking up a fry from Wonwoo’s plate and tossing it into his mouth. Wonwoo merely stared at his friend, unamused by his lack of manners, causing Seungcheol to chuckle.

“You know I do, Cheol, but why should I give it to you?” Wonwoo asked, his baritone voice holding a twinge of sarcasm, still upset by Seungcheol’s unwarranted act of property theft.

“Who says I want them?” Seungcheol turns away, flustered that Wonwoo caught on too quickly to his motive.

Wonwoo shrugs, and continues eating his lunch. “Alright then.”

“Can you email them to me?” An innocent, close-lipped smile etched across Seungcheol’s face, his dimple deepening as he clasped his hands together, pulling the same trick as Y/N usually does to get what they want.

“Stop that, I already get enough of puppy-eyes from Y/N,” grunted Wonwoo, rolling his eyes. “I’ll send them tonight, just send me a reminder.”

“Great, thanks, man.” Wonwoo expected him to leave, allowing for Wonwoo to spend the rest of his lunch alone before he heads to his next class, but Seungcheol stayed put, eyes on his phone. Not feeling like making any conversation, Wonwoo shrugged it off and continued eating. That is, until Seungcheol spoke up again, asking, “Hey, doesn’t Y/N have a boyfriend?”

Wonwoo couldn’t help the heat that rose at the back of his neck. “Yeah, why?”

“Isn’t it that Hanwoo guy?” Wonwoo nodded, but Seungcheol only looked even more perplexed. “They’re still going out?”

“Yeah…” Wonwoo confirmed, but the question only made his curiosity grow. Why did Seungcheol look so surprised? “Why?”

“It’s just… I mean, if you say they’re still together then it might not be- I must’ve made a mistake,” Seungcheol tried to change the subject but Wonwoo wasn’t going to let him do so.

“Tell me what you’re talking about or you won’t get Beom’s notes,” Wonwoo threatened, earning a look of genuine offense from Seungcheol, whom briefly rose a brow, a bit unconvinced. “I’m serious, Cheol.”

“Ass,” he muttered, before shaking his head, “Nah, it’s just… last night I saw a guy pick up my neighbor from across the courtyard, and I thought he looked a lot like Hanwoo.” Wonwoo’s eyebrow rose in suspicion, Seungcheol spotting it. “But if you say they’re still going out, then it must’ve been someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Any guy would be stupid to cheat on Y/N, especially since she’s your best friend and all.”

That only made him more confused. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s not like you’d let anyone hurt her, Won,” Seungcheol retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (it was), “and Hanwoo would be a huge dumbass if he even thought of cheating on her.”

Even though Seungcheol was right, Wonwoo wasn’t convinced—Hanwoo had a meeting last night when they were at Holly’s but Joy confirmed that he wasn’t even a part of the EO committee.

“Are you sure it wasn’t him?” He tried to make sure.

“I mean, it was dark and I wasn’t wearing my glasses so it was a bit blurry—all-in-all I would say 50%, either he was or he wasn’t,” Seungcheol explained, being no help to Wonwoo’s growing suspicion of your boyfriend.

“I’ve gotta go,” Wonwoo uttered, standing and packing his things, tossing his backpack over his shoulder.

“Where are you go- class is that way!” Wonwoo paid no mind to his friend as he continued walking towards the parking lot. However, he could hear Seungcheol as he was almost out of earshot, “Y/N, your knight in shining armor is on his way.”

The corner of Wonwoo’s lips quirked up. “I’m not sending the notes then!”

“Oh, come on, man!”

He couldn’t wait any longer. Suspicions and of course, anger, only grew the more steps he took towards his car, knowing the destination was you. If what Seungcheol said is true and he did, in fact, see Hanwoo with another girl, then that means he’s openly seeing someone else behind your back.

His hand reached for his phone, sparing quick glances between the screen and where he was walking as his fingers swiped for your contact, immediately dialing. Pressing the phone to his ear, he let his other hand pull out his car keys and unlock the door just as the line started ringing.

You picked up after two rings.

“Wonwoo? What’s with the sudden phone call?”

“Where are you?” He waited in the front seat, keys dangling from the ignition. Your answer would decide whether he starts the car or not.

“In the cafeteria near the engineering majors, why?”

“Are you with Hanwoo?” You were taken aback by his question, not because of what he asked, but by the fact that he got your boyfriend’s name right.

“Yeah, I am… Why?”

His shoulders sunk with your confirmation. “Just… just checking, sorry to bother you guys.” You muttered something that he didn’t catch before he hung up, exhaling a heavy sigh. Maybe it was paranoia. He had known you since you both were in middle school, of course he was protective over you, like every friend out there, he never wants you to get hurt.

Little did he know that as you put down your phone, a grimace had taken over your features as you looked at Joy.

“What did Wonwoo ask?”

You wanted to tell her the truth, but even you couldn’t wrap your head around the obvious that was happening. Wonwoo thinks you’re with Hanwoo, but you’re not and Joy’s tip about your boyfriend never having been involved in the election committee—you knew, and if your best friend had asked and even remembered Hanwoo’s name, then that must mean he knows, too.

“If I was with you,” you answered before her suspicion grew. “He wanted to check if I was up for lunch with him, but I’m with you already.”

“Ah… I think it’s good that he isn’t here,” Joy prefaced, pulling her phone out. “Do you remember I use to be a student supervisor for our major’s freshman camp?”

“Yeah, why?”

“So, I follow most of the kids that were in my group, right? And I was scrolling through my Instagram stories when you were buying lunch, and then—“ Joy scrolled through the following list of her account, stopping her explanation as she found who she was looking for. “—I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”

She slid her phone face-up to you, an Instagram story of a junior you didn’t know of was opened. The picture wasn’t revealing much of anything that seemed of significance to you, just a photo of her holding hands with a guy and it was posted in her Close Friends—most likely an attempt at soft-launching her boyfriend.

For a moment you were confused, then you spotted it—the username. It was Hanwoo's Instagram account. Dread grew at the back of your head as your brain couldn't grasp on to this fact, even exiting out of the story and searching for his username, hoping it was one letter off and your suspicions would be wrong, but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case and both the username in the girl’s post and his username were the same.

“I’m sorry, Y/N…” Joy uttered, in hopes to break the silence and tension that was building, but it was to no avail. Your throat tightened, and tears burned in your eyes, but you knew they weren’t from sadness, or heartbreak even, you were furious.

The audacity this piece of shit has to think he can cheat on me? You locked Joy’s phone, sliding it back to her before picking up your things and standing from the table.

“Where are you going?” Her eyes were filled with genuine concern, worried that you were a ticking time bomb, just waiting to blow up at the worse time.

You sent her a reassuring smile, and shrugged. “Where else? To plan my revenge on him, of course.”

Wonwoo thought he was hearing things. As he paused his game, he waited and listened for a moment before shrugging, chalking it off to probably a feature in the game he never noticed.

Clink!

That couldn’t have been a feature in the game, he was breaking wood—a clinking sound against glass doesn’t seem like something you’d hear while hitting a tree repeatedly in Minecraft.

He removed his earphones this time, waiting for the sound again, and when he did, he stood and walked to his window, finding you standing outside his window.

“Finally, oh my God!” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Do you know how many pebbles I had to look for to throw at your window?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows bunched together as he stared at you dumbfounded. “Why did you need to throw pebbles, we’re ground level. You could’ve just knocked.”

“That wouldn’t be so romantic, now would it?”

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he heaved a heavy sigh. “You’ve got to stop sneaking around like this, though, people are going to think you’re a burglar.”

“Whatever, Won,” you waved him off. “I need your help.”

“With what?”

“I—“ You paused. The fact that Hanwoo is actively cheating on you, probably even at this very moment, felt almost surreal to you, but ever since Joy showed you the picture, you’ve (to some extent) came to terms with it—there were signs after all, signs you chose to ignore or were so subtle, they flew over your head. However, coming to the realization that you’ve been cheated on felt easier than to utter it out loud—it felt more like a confirmation, that once the words were spoken out into the universe, it confirmed you were too blind in love to see the fact that he played you like a violin.

And it felt worse to admit to Wonwoo that his suspicions of your boyfr— ex-boyfriend being a douchebag were right.

“I need your help to trash Hanwoo’s car tonight, he’s at a friend’s house and left his car by his apartment.” Might as well hold off telling the truth until after you’ve released your anger.

Wonwoo could see you were holding something back, and by your proposition, making a guess as to why you did so, was easy.

“I’m not going to ask, but I will need you to explain later.” You subconsciously thanked him for not asking for a reason to your borderline act of vandalism. “Come around to the garage, I think I have a baseball bat from when I played little league.”

Ignoring the last bit of Wonwoo’s childhood anecdote, you watched as he left his room before taking the route to circle towards the front of his house where the garage was. You heard a lock turn and a bar slide before door opened, revealing Wonwoo, nodding his head to follow him.

“Do you, like, a Swiss Army knife or something sharp?”

“I think my dad has one his tool box, let me check,” he says, then points to shelf behind the car. “You can check there for the baseball bat.”

“Alright.”

Once the equipments were prepared—consisting of Wonwoo’s baseball ball, his dad’s Swiss Army knife, and your dad’s spray paint from one of his furniture restoration projects—you were all set to get back at Hanwoo. You both tossed them into the back of his car, climbing in and Wonwoo started up for Hanwoo’s apartment.

“And how do you know he left his car?” Wonwoo asked after three minutes of complete silence (AUX cord was broken and nothing that could fit a drive to vandalize your ex’s car was on the radio).

“Because I texted him earlier, asking if he could drive me to the store because there was a book I needed to get, and he explained to me that he was at a friend’s house and left his car,” you explained, your tone flat throughout as you mindlessly played with the zipper of your hoodie.

“And you’re sure he’s with friends?” He asked, his tone cautious, as he watched you freeze briefly.

You weren’t sure. Instead of admitting that, you chuckled, “He wouldn’t be with his girlfriend without a car.”

Despite your efforts at breaking the ice, Wonwoo wasn’t able to laugh at your joke, and only you could muster a dry chuckle before leaning back, turning to face the window.

You seemed to float throughout—as if watching yourself in a third person point of view, almost numb to the fact that you were on your way to ruin your ex’s car. It wasn’t that you were in denial that he is cheating on you, you refused to believe it was happening to you. You always felt that you were doing so much, showing him so much love, prioritizing him when he needed, never doubting that you felt the same way for you.

What did I do wrong? What about me wasn’t enough?

You hated those thoughts that began flooding your head. You hated those doubts. You hated that because of what he did, you’re blaming yourself—making it seem that you were the one that wasn’t doing enough.

“Y/N?” Wonwoo’s baritone voice pulled you out of your self-loathing. “We’re here.”

“Oh, you remembered the way,” you finally took note of him never asking you directions throughout the drive.

“Unfortunately.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his snide comment. Looking out to his side of the window, you see Hanwoo’s white range rover. You knew he cherished it—making sure to get the oil changed routinely, weekly car washes and having it waxed monthly. In retrospect, he probably loved the car more than he did you.

Maybe destroying he loved could make you feel less shitty.

“Let’s go—“ Before you could climb out, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Y/N?”

Again, the truth choked you. As you stared at Wonwoo, the concern laced all over his features, it felt the question should’ve triggered a flood gate to open, but alas, you persist. I need to not use poor humor as a coping mechanism. You cocked your head to the side, the corner of your lips lifted. “Why? I honestly thought you’d be the most excited of us to trash his car, Won?”

Of course, being your best friend since middle school, he saw right through your façade.

His hand moved from your wrist to clasp your hands, wrapping his fingers around yours. “Just promise you’ll talk to me, yeah?”

The bile rose, once again, urging you to cough out the truth. Knowing well enough you wouldn’t be able to utter anything without your words breaking, you nodded and sent a stiff smile.

As you stood near Hanwoo’s car, looking through the window of his vehicle, memories of the two of you seated side-by-side there came flooding in. How when you would go to a drive-thru for late night snack runs, the way you reached over the console with a fry and feeding it to him as his eyes focused on the road. When you’d pull over into a parking lot, your legs stretched over to rest over his lap as the two of you talked about everything and nothing at all, or when he would purposely make wrong turns just so you would spend more time with each other when he was supposed to drop you home.

Moments that you held so close to your heart, now worth nothing in a blink of an eye.

You squeezed your eyes shut, urging the tears to fall back and return to their sockets, inhaling a deep breath and pushing it out almost immediately as you flipped the knife to one of its sharpest options and pressing the point to the driver’s door. There’s no backing out now. You let the knife drag itself across the paint, a ragged line following your hand as you made your lap around his car.

Now, there really wasn’t going back now.

Before you could hold yourself back, your arm extended back and punctured one of the tyres—then one became two, and then three. Air spewing out of three of the tyres filled the tension around you, and you found yourself breathless. Breathless because you were angry. Breathless because you were hurt. The tears had escaped, creating warm trails down your cheeks.

“Give me the bat,” you urged, glaring at him with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

“Y/N—“

“Wonwoo,” you pressed, “it’s either you give me the bat, or you go home—I’m going to do this whether you agree with it or not.”

Wonwoo shouldn’t even be against what you’re doing right now. He’s obviously on your side when it comes to this, Hanwoo deserves getting his car destroyed for hurting, manipulating and thinking he could go behind your back this way. However, the more logical and law-abiding side of him is reluctant—especially since you’ve already slashed his tyres and ruined the paintwork, so breaking the windows seemed to cross the line.

“If we get arrested, just tell them I did it, alright?” Wonwoo uttered, handing you the bat and taking the knife with him. You smiled for the first time tonight, a genuine smile that reached your eyes as he said that. He then added, “I’ll get the spray paint—you do your thing.”

And after a bashed in windshield, a very poorly written “FUCKING CHEATER” was spray painted on all sides of the car and on the hood. You and Wonwoo drove away from the scene of the crime, driving to a nearest convenient store where Wonwoo hopped out, buying instant ramen, drinks and snacks, deciding to make a last-minute picnic in his car because in his words: “Vandalism works up an appetite.”

“They didn’t have the carbonara one, so I got you cheese.” Wonwoo returned in less than ten minutes, the noodles already boiled, only needing the seasonings. You smiled at him, mumbling a thanks as you took the cup noodles from him, tearing the seasoning and busying yourself with stirring, and continuously stirring, your eyes dazed off at the curly noodles as they spun in a faint orange mix.

“Y/N, I’m sure your noodles are well stirred,” Wonwoo commented, hoping to divert your attention. The leather beneath him squeaked as he adjusted his position, leaning his back against the door as he folded his knee under him, fully facing you at this point.

He called, “Hey.”

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and immediately, Wonwoo straightened up, his jaws clenched and shoulders tensed. Tear stricken cheeks, bloodshot eyes and everso present frown evident in between your eyebrows and downturned lips.

“Y/N…” Wonwoo took the noodles from your hands, placing it on the dashboard and pulling you by the wrists, engulfing you into his arms, then there goes the floodgates—the emotions you locked away throughout the evening, released in that very second your face was against his shoulder.

While you were bawling, grieving the relationship that reigned to be good to be true, Wonwoo was hatching up his own revenge plan on the piece of shit.

The incessant ringing of your phone pulled you out of your slumber, and you knew for a fact it wasn’t your alarm, because one; you snoozed that ten times already, and two; it wasn’t your usual Radar tone.

Sliding the screen with one eye open, you placed it by your ear without seeing who it was.

“Hello—“

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY CAR, Y/N?!”

Well that was one way of waking you up. You sat up, slowly, taking your time with adjusting your position while Hanwoo was screaming on the other line. Once you were sitting up, you glanced at the screen—the name you had changed last night once you got back home displayed as ‘IGNORE’, in hopes that you would do so when he called you. But then again, you thought he’d call you when you were conscious.

“—Y/N FUCKING ANSWER ME!” Rolling your eyes, you heaved a sigh before placing the phone back by your ear.

“And to what do I owe—“

“You were you even fucking listening to me?“ Hanwoo snapped.

“No.” Your answer was simple, honest, and obviously uninterested with whatever he wanted to say. Was the modification that you made to his beloved vehicle not enough of an announcement that you knew what he was up to all this time?

“I was asking what the hell did you to my car?”

“Can’t you tell?” you teased, “I gave it a makeover.”

“You ruined my paint job and popped my tyres, what kind of makeover is this?”

“The kind that fits a cheater like you.” Silence. Complete silence came from the other side and if you listened closely, you could hear the static along with his ragged breathing knowing well enough he was caught. “Cat got your tongue, dude?”

“Y/N…”

“Save the sob story, we’re not dating, I don’t see why you’re fucking calling me other than to cry about your stupid car—“

“How about the fact that your fucker of a dog punched me?” He interjected.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I mean, Y/N,” he scoffed, “it wasn’t enough to ruin my car, you had to send your dog to ruin my face too.”

It took you a second to realize he was talking about Wonwoo, which means that Wonwoo had punched his face.

Wonwoo punching someone in the face? That wasn’t something you had heard before, nor expected. The image itself was enough to cause you to burst out laughing, your phone falling from your hands, leaving Hanwoo confused and annoyed.

The idea that Wonwoo would go as far as to punch someone was such an unrealistic accusation Hanwoo had made, but nonetheless, had successfully made you laugh after a long night of crying yourself to sleep.

“Are you done?” Hanwoo asked once you placed the phone back to your ear after your laughing fit.

“Wasn’t enough for you to lie about your relationship all this time, now you want to lie and accuse Wonwoo of something he’d never do,” you defended, scoffing at his poor attempt.

“I’m not lying about this, Y/N!”

“So, you admit that you were lying about our relationship?” This time you interjected, wanting to hear him confirm it. It was mostly due to that nagging voice at the back of your head that still doubted what Joy had shown you, that the picture was friendly and not romantic.

It was so pathetic how even after everything, there was a sliver in you that hoped he would deny it.

“Y/N- let me explain—“ In other words: ‘I was, but you haven’t heard my reason’.

“Fuck off, Hanwoo, don’t ever call me again,” you warned, “and if I hear you spread bullshit about Wonwoo like you did just now, it’ll be more than just your car that I ruin. Bye.”

He managed to slip something before you got the chance to hang up. “What about my fucking eye, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you ask Gia to help you with that?” Grateful to have the last word, you hung up immediately, tossing your phone to the side. The phone call wasn’t closure, but it was enough to put those indenial thoughts to rest.

Wonwoo punched him? The thought wouldn’t leave your head as you got ready for the day. Trying to imagine Wonwoo walking up to Hanwoo and giving him a black eye wasn’t something you could see him doing. Besides that, when did Wonwoo get the time to punch Hanwoo if he did? He ended up driving you home around three in the morning, and it was past six now, meaning he had a three hour window.

Unless…

No, that would mean after dropping you off, he had stormed straight to wherever Hanwoo was just to punch him.

You had to make sure, even if it was hard to believe, you had to make sure Wonwoo was okay. As long as you’ve been friends, you’ve never seen him get into any physical altercations with anyone, and if it did happen, it might be possible that Hanwoo wouldn’t have let him walk away unscathed.

Your legs carried you to his house, to his front door and after greeting his parents, to his bedroom door. You knocked, listening in to hear rummaging noises, as if he was panicking.

“Wait, Eomma, I just finished showering—“ He called out from the other side, which you found odd because you knew him, he wouldn’t even be awake at this hour.

“Wonwoo, it’s me.”

The noise on the other side of the door paused for a moment, before Wonwoo called out. “Y/N?”

“Yes, can you open the door?” You asked, waiting for it to swing open but it didn’t.

“No, I’m- uh, I’m watching something, you don’t need to see it,” Wonwoo tried to think of an excuse but cursed at himself because why the hell did that come out instead? You, on the other hand, found his obvious panic hilarious, his excuse eliciting a chuckle.

“I know you met with Hanwoo,” you informed him, making sure to keep your voice down so his parents wouldn’t hear. “So, can you please open the door and let me check the damage?”

You waited a few minutes, hearing him toss a few things away, the noise causing your brows to furrow. The lock turned and the door swung enough for you to squeeze yourself in, knowing well enough that Wonwoo wasn’t about to reveal himself in fear his parents would see (they wouldn’t have, they were on the other side of the house, he was just paranoid). Once you were in, he pushed the door closed, his back against it and you could see what damage Hanwoo had done to your next door neighbour.

It wasn’t bad, admittedly you thought it’d be worse considering his lack of experience.

It was a scratch and bruising surrounding his left cheek, that was most caused by a ring Hanwoo was wearing, but other than that, and a tear in his lip, that was all he took.

“I honestly thought you’d look worse,” you thought out loud, Wonwoo’s brows furrowing at the comment.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shook your head, lightly laughing. “Nothing, do you have anything I can use to clean that?”

“Uh… I do, actually.” He dips to look on his bedside table. “Stopped by a drugstore after because I saw the blood.”

“And when did you get the time to pull it all off?”

“Well, after I dropped you off, I asked Seungcheol since he knows—“ Wonwoo stopped, realizing that this information wasn’t ever supposed to reach you. “Uhm… How did you know I was hurt?”

“Because a psychopath told me,” you informed, and his eyes darkened for a moment, rolling in annoyance.

“I told him to never bother you again,” he groaned, before his gaze softened as he turned to you. “Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”

“He just called my phone, I’m alright,” you reassured him. Taking a step towards him, your fingers gently touched the wound on his cheek, inspecting it. You could see that he didn’t tend to it once it started bleeding, evidence of dried blood surrounding the wound and there wasn’t any antiseptic used either to ensure an infection didn’t happen.

While you were playing nurse, Wonwoo became very aware of the lack of space between your face and his, and he had to hold his breath. It only worsened when your eyes darted to his, the two of you holding eye contact for what he thought was an eternity.

“Let me clean it up for you, Won,” you uttered, breaking the silence and eventually the tension as you turned to walk into his ensuite bathroom. He followed after trying to calm his heartbeat, finding you on top of his sink, soaking a cotton pad with antiseptic and tearing a bandaid from its package.

“Come here,” you urged. Wonwoo stood between your thighs, not wanting to meet your eyes, but you didn’t mind—almost finding him being flustered cute.

“Ow,” he winced when the antiseptic touched the wound after you had wiped it clean of the dried blood.

“It’s a small sting, stop being a baby,” you teased, earning a glare from him. “How come you only came out with this?”

“Got me at the last minute,” he answered.

“And how was he?” Your question was responded with an eyebrow raise instead, causing you to roll your eyes. “I don’t care about him, Won, I just want to know if it was worth it—if you, at least, are satisfied with this decision.”

The corner of his lips turned up, a smug look etched across his face as he answered, “It was. I hurt him enough to send the message and keep it with him for the next couple of weeks.”

“I never knew you could fight,” you said honestly.

“There’s a lot you still don’t know about me, Y/N,” he mumbled, but because of your close proximity, you heard it loud and clear. Before you ask further, he spoke up, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“After this we can have breakfast, I think my mom made doenjang jjigae,” he informed. You smiled, nodding, “Sure.” You finished tending to his wound by plastering on the Kuromi bandaid, teasing him about it, to which he used the ‘there wasn’t anything else’ excuse.

He grabbed your elbow as you hopped off his sink, the action caused you to stumble out of balance instead of helping, made you bump closer to him, his free arm automatically holding your waist.

Cue the eye contact and pink-tinted cheeks, the move could’ve made you laugh as if it was straight out of a cheesy rom-com, but you were too occupied with trying to think that you couldn’t do so. I’m heartbroken, I’m vulnerable and haven’t been feeling loved for the past week, this is just a fluke, you tried to rationalize the thoughts and your racing heart, knowing well what could work to get out of this.

You tapped his chest, gently pushing him. “Go shower, Wonwoo, you reek.”

“Shut up, I do not,” he protested, laughing to cover his shaky voice. He then added, “Thanks, Y/N, although you didn’t have to do all this.”

“And let you get an infection?” You retorted.

Wonwoo rolled his eyes, and without thinking he uttered, “A kiss would’ve sufficed.” It was too late for him to take back his words, noting your wide eyes and mouth slightly agape, his cheeks flushed when he realized what he had said. “Y/N, I wasn’t thinking—“

You pressed a kiss against cheek, beneath his bandage, shutting him completely. “Take it as a thank you for all you’ve done for me.”

It took him a second to compose himself, grinning, “I am your knight in shining armor, after all.”

You threw your head back in laughter. “Are you riding a horse, my knight?”

“Yes, a pink horse,” he answered, smiling endearingly down at you.

You frowned at his choice of color, “But you hate pink?”

“And you love pink.”

“Gosh, Wonwoo,” you flushed red, taking a step away from him, finding his comment both cringey and touching at the same time—it was shocking you could feel those two simultaneously. “When did you get so cheesy?”

He merely shrugged, a faint smirk on his lips. “I told you there was a lot you don’t know about me.”

#seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo svt #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #heartsfromia writes

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whorrorbellee · 8 months ago

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ANGELS OF PORN

DARK! Aemond x pornstar! Reader

$10,000 LOOKING FOR DOED EYED PRETTY GIRL WHO WANTS TO MAKE A QUICK BUCK. ONE TIME PORNO, MUST BE OKAY WITH LIGHT SLAPPING, ROUGH SEX AND CHOKING. SEND A PHOTO.

WARNINGS; rough sex, slapping, choking, major character death. blood, oral? mood board

He's watching you undress in the back of the RV through the mirror, It's all hazy. Pulling on white socks, frills spilling over the brown couch in the back. ‘Trailer trash scum’ is what Aegon said, pressing white knuckles into the steering wheel, as he huffed onto a cigarette. He couldn't wait to see your blood spill over the pretty whites. He's not religious but he could see himself worshipping your body, under tight lips and pretty prayers. Rotten. Groomed into a cult over Myspace and 4chan. He piqued his own interest after seeing the gore videos of pretty girls' necks slashed open in orgasm. La petite mort. He wants to see how far Aegon is gonna take it. And now you're living and breathing in front of him. Thick ringlets, soft perfumed skin, He starts to wonder if he can go through with it. You smile at him as you catch his eye.

Ten grand for a porno on Craigslist, an hour after the ad had come up your pretty picture had been burned into the cornea of Aemonds eye. The Perfect slut. Pink-lipped, wide-eyed doll. Picked up at the gas station. He watched you hum into a cigarette, your eyes trailing over him. He waited for the disgust to glaze across your eyes, but you pulled him into a handshake. Winking as you hopped into the RV with a sway of hips. Aegon only grinned up at him. Gapped teeth. He ran his hand over his shaved head. Stretching his arms out and then pulling straights out of his cargo.

You run your hand over Aemonds shoulder, head dipping into the crook of his neck and pulling his lighter into your hand. He swallows, you watch his shoulders fall and he unzips his Adidas jacket as the aircon falters. He shrugs it off. You light your cigarette and then stare into Aegons eyes, crinkled at the corners he's smirking to himself. You're thinking he's ex-army, wearing a tribal band around his arm, smooth and precise movements.

“What you gonna do with’the money?” Aegon mutters. His fingers are pointed as he takes the ciggie into his mouth, lips snarling as the smoke escapes, you watch the muscles in his arm flex.

Your glossed lips part, “put’a bad man away”

“Get a lawyer, huh?” Aegon hums, he rolls the window down, and spits, throwing the butt out the window with it. You watch Aemonds face. He stares back at you through a half-lidded eye, you smirk down at him. Watching his fingers clench at his hoodie.

“Som’thin like that” you smile, and you pull away from Aemond, lighting your own cigarette. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling smoke through parted lips. His gaze never leaving yours, the silence between you heavy. Aemond reaches a hand out to the radio, Dolly Parton filling the silence. He looks up to the mirror, eye fixed on your body as you walk away. Hips shifting the denim shorts you're wearing. You lean over the counter and pull out some mascara from your bag. The RV sways on the uneven road. Lurching to the side, Aemond grips onto the seat and watches you unfazed through the mirror. You smile, shiny white teeth, lopsided grin as you apply blush to the end of your nose, his lip curling into a smirk at the sight of your infectious grin. He finds it amusing, the contrast between the innocent action and the situation you're in.

Aegon pulls into the 24-hour Diner by the highway, The neon sign buzzing like trapped flies. He watches as Aegon shuts off the ignition. The hum of the engine dying out. The Diner is half empty, the bell ringing against the sound of patrons chattering in the night. Aemond can feel the anticipation building in his chest. They had discussed a last meal before the cameras had switched on, and the time had come quicker than expected. Heat pools in Aemond's stomach, and his hands shake with excitement. Aegon opens the driver's door and steps out, the night air rushing in with him. He stretches, his shirt rides up, and exposes the lower part of his back as his muscles tense. Aemond's eyes flick back to you. He watches you watching Aegon through the mirror. He can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance, a brief pang of possessiveness that he quickly shoves down. You smile at him, stepping out of the RV. Cool air tousling your hair. Skin bright against the neon sign. He follows you out. Gravel crunching under his shoe.

Warm cheap food fills your nose. Your shoes squeak against the linoleum tiles as you slip into a red booth. You're bathed in yellow light, pressing shoulder blades into the cool leather. Aegon follows sitting opposite you, Aemond sliding next to him. You run your hand over the sticky table, waiting for someone to take your order. Lips pouting. A waitress approaches the table, her expression bored and tired, but her eyes widen as she looks at you, taking in your looks and the way you're dressed. Aemond can see the way her cheeks flush slightly, the way she fumbles with her pen as she turns to the three of you. "What can I get ya'll?" She asks, her voice a southern drawl.

Your head tilts to the side, eyes running over the food kept behind glass, “A slice of that cherry pie and some coffee please” you smile sweetly.

She turns to Aegon, his fingers drumming against the table. Her eyes flickered over the tight muscles under his green shirt. “For you hun?”

“Bacon and egg sandwich extra runny” he grunts, eyebrow raising.

Her eyes turn to Aemond, he orders an omelet and a coffee, voice low and soft. The waitress leaves, feet pattering against the floor as she hurries off. Aegon lets out a low whistle, eyes raking across your body.

“You're just as pretty as your picture aren't you?” Aegon mutters, his head nodding at you. He's practically salivating over you, eyes hungry. You look at Aemond watching as he clenches his jaw tighter. Aegon laughs, a sound deep and guttural. He leans across the booth, his hands wrapping around the edges, his face just inches away from yours. He's invading your space, but you don't flinch, your expression bored, almost amused. He sticks his tongue out, letting it linger over his bottom lip as he grins. "Sweet little thing like you, huh?" He coos.

“I'm not that sweet’can tell you that now” you smirk, eyelashes batting across your cheeks.

You watch as Aegon’s grin widens he lets out a low chuckle. “Bet you taste real sweet though” his eyes dance over your body. Aemond clenches his hands under the table, knuckles turning white. He notices the way you handle his crude advances. Not bothered by dirty innuendos.

The waitress sets down the food without care, plates loudly clattering against the table top. Aegon barely acknowledges her, gaze still fixed on you. You stare ahead, lips pursed. You sip on your coffee unbothered "Ain't gonna eat, darlin'?" Aegon asks, finally breaking his gaze to look at his food. His tone is laced with an underlying darkness, a hint of danger. Aemond can tell he's getting impatient, his fingers drumming against the table.

“I like getting fucked on an empty stomach” you smile. Aemond pauses, fork midway to his mouth he's barely digested your words before Aegon snorting with laughter. Slapping his knee at the comment. Eyes glittering with sick excitement. You're starting to get real bored with Aegon, it's one crude comment after another. The pattern has already been memorised in your head. You roll your eyes. “I'm gonna go to the ladies” you slide out the booth hand brushing over Aemond’s shoulder. He watches you slip to the side to let a lady exit the toilets, then you duck behind the door yourself.

Aegon turns back to his meal. Shoving bacon and egg into his mouth. Yolk escapes the corner of his lips. He chews obnoxiously. “Cant wait to fuckin kill’her” he mutters, sly grin playing on his lips. “Make our own fucking movie for those sick freaks” Aemond only nods in return.

“Too bad Reaper couldn't make it”

You walk back to the booth, shrugging on a small knit jumper. Aegon slaps down bills on the table, they exit the dinner and you trail behind them as you light another cigarette. Orange embers glowing in the darkness. Aegon leads the way, keys jangling in his hand. You step into the RV, air humid. Aegon follows, Aemond shuts the door behind him. He feels his heart thudding against his chest.

The RV engine rumbles to life, and the vehicle lurches forward. Headlights pierce through the darkness, bathing the road in a pale glow. The trees on either side of the road cast long, sinister shadows against your face as Aegon drives further into the slip road of the forest.

You gaze up at Aemond, his dark gaze locking with yours. He watches you intently. The RV is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the soft sound of you exhaling smoke from your cigarette. The engine falls silent, as you pull up onto gravel, Aegon is the first to get up, seat creaking as he stands. Aemond waits, his muscles tensed, his eyes fixed on you. You extinguish your cigarette in the small ash-tray, the smoke curling up towards the low ceiling. You seem unfazed by the situation, your eyes still fixed on Aemond as you rise from the sofa. Aegon turns on the headlights and the area is flooded with a harsh, artificial light, he's already opening the rv door. The cool night air flooding into the vehicle. The light from outside casts a rectangle of light on the carpeted floor, illuminating the space in a pale, artificial glow.

You're standing in the middle of a small clearing, the trees like black sentinels around you. You look like a creature of the night, the shadows dancing across your face. Angelic even.He grins, his eyes roving over you like a wolf sizing up its prey, watching you run and strip off layers of clothing, tossing them aside. Standing there in nothing but your white lace underwear, your body fully exposed in the harsh light.

Aemond watches from outside the RV, his eyes growing dark as he takes in the sight. His jaw clenches, his hands balling into fists. He knows what's coming, he feels his blood boil in excitement. Blood thirsty. Aemond moves towards you, his hands grazing over your bare skin. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he's touching something he shouldn't. Despite the situation, he can't help but feel a sense of possession, a need to protect you. He steps behind you, his chest brushing against your back. He places his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. “Are we rollin’ yet?” you ask. Pulling loose hairs away from your face.

Aemond's face disappears behind a black ski mask, his features obscured in shadow. He pulls the fabric taut, making sure it covers every inch of his face. He looks different now, the mask making him seem dangerous, savage. His eyes burn with a cold, detached anger, a stark contrast to his gentle touch on your skin. You pant against his touch, mewling in soft brushes. Turning to face him.

“We are now sweetheart” Aegon mutters, you watch his eyes disappear behind a vhs camcorder.

Aemond's breath hitches as your lips caress his neck. He can feel your hot breath on his skin, sending a shiver down his spine. His hands on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

The camera recording every gasp and sigh. You're putting on a show for it, for Aegon, for Aemond.

Your hand slides beneath Aemond's wife beater, your fingers caressing his bare skin. His grip on you tightens, his muscles taut under your touch. A soft moan escapes his lips, muffled by the ski mask.

You smile up at him. Flashy shiny whites. He runs a hand over your cheek. Your face presses into it. And then he's yanking his hand back, snapping against you cheek in a sharp movement. Your head is snapped to the side. You look up and smile at him through wet eyelashes. A silent plea for more. Your cheek is hot against his palm.

“Shit that's hot”, Aegon mutters. You don't look at him, all your attention is on Aemond. You watch his mask shift, muscles moving under the black fabric. His face moves closer to yours, your arms wrap around his neck, peppering kisses over black cotton, you feel him smirk against your lips. His hands grab at your wrists from behind and suddenly he's wrestling you to the ground. You whine, pressed into the mud, you feel aemond’s body from behind. Belt buckle stabbing into your lower back. Your feet kick upwards. His leg pins you to the ground. You squirm beneath him, your ass grinding into his crotch. Aemond lets out a soft hiss. Your every movement driving him wild. You feel his body responding to your touch. His cargos grow tighter and you feel his hardness press into you from behind. You smirk. He fights the urge to grind down on you.

“Dirty, Fucken’slut huh” he mutters, his hands tracing your spine, pushing you into the grass. Your head turns to the side, revealing a sly grin. You hum in agreement. Growing limp in his arms, and then you pout up the camera, eyebrows raising, your lip shakes. He watches Aegon. He clenches his jaw, watching in anticipation, chest rising quicker as you bite your lip up at him.

“Keep goin”Aegon barks out. The red light flashes towards you. You feel Aemonds grip grow tighter.

“Are you gonna fuck me or what?” You taunt. Your hips jerk backwards, Brushing against his hard cock “ I know you want to” you sing out, it's like a melody to his ears. He flips your body in response. Back hitting the grass. Your hair lays out like a halo behind you. You run your hands over his chest and press kisses into his neck. Watching as he unbuckles his belt hastley. You nip and bite at warm flesh, pulling your legs from underneath him, brushing past his dick. He lets out a soft hiss. Pulling your body towards him. He sheds your panties and bra. Groping at the flesh he's unveiled. You look so radiant like this. Skin glowing under the headlights of the RV. The tension is palpable between you. He imagines slicing through your skin with a knife and burying his hand inside to feel the heat of your heart. Feel its last beats drum through your chest.

Not yet.

His cock runs through your wetness, your back arches against him, feeling the head of his dick knock against your clit, his hand runs up the column of your chest and settles on your neck. He pushes into you, slitting you apart with his thickness, you hum at the intrusion. Wide mouth, eyes closed. His hand squeezes at the base of your neck, you feel the blood flow to your head lessen. Dizzy in his hold. He moves slowly. Torturously slow, head knocking against your cervix. You wince. And then feel his cock slide against the gummy walls. He's quicker driving into you with such force you feel what little air you have get knocked out of you. He grunts against your neck, your eyes water. Feeling the camera closer to your face. You fake a moan. Running your hand down the side of your face and then down Aemonds back scratching at taunt muscles

Laid out like a sacrificial lamb pliant and malleable under his hands. The type of innocence that bites back. “Fuck” you moan out from under him, griping him tightly. You feel him pulse. Hips snapping, into yours, your face reddens. His vice grip around your neck softens, and he pushes two fingers inside your mouth,

. Aegon watches as he smears spit around your face, trailing the wetness down your neck and the valley of your breasts.

“Shit, tight fucking pussy”Aemond moans, low and deep. You're turned on your back, and he slams himself back into you, arm around your waist the other makes its way to your neck, back arching till you're propped up against his chest, head lulling in the crooks of his neck. Sweaty bodies against each other,You tighten around him as he coos at your whines. “You close huh”

You smile against him. “yeah, fuck so good” it rolls of your toungue so quickly, you squeak. He grips your throat and you watch as Aegon nods at him. You turn to Aemond staring into his eyes. His hips falter. Eyes shutting quickly but his hands don't leave you. Grunting as he comes, And then you look back to Aegon eyes running over his body, he's hard. Your eyebrow raises at him. “You gonna let me suck your dick?” you bat your lashes watching Aegon smirk. Aemonds hands tighten on your body at your words, hands slipping down to rub your clit in tight circles. Your eyes roll backwards, body shaking with blissful pleasure. You come down from your high. Aemonds hand runs down your sweaty face, his eyes darken as they watch Aegon pull his cock out from his cargos. You crawl over to him. Eyes on the camera. You kneel at his feet, the cameras passed into Aemonds hands. It just cuts off his face.

You run your hands over his body, pressing kisses down his pelvis. Then you shrug his cargos half down his legs, he beacons Ameond closer with the camera as you stare up at him. Running your tongue against the length of his cock. He pushes your head closer to his dick. Aemond watches as your hands grab at something, but your face remains stotic, too involved with Aegon's dick. He clenches his jaw and suddenly Aegons falling backwards onto the grass, something running down his leg and then he spots it. Shiny silver.

The buck Aegon chose a week ago in the hunting store. His eyes widen, his hands falter with the camera. He watches you straddle him, you look back at Aemond, your face stern. “Come on, keep the tape rolling I thought you wanted to make a snuff film” your head cocks to the side running your hand over Aegon's lips. You smile down at him. Your hand reaches behind you to the leather handle of the knife. He yelps as it slides to the side in his skin. And then you're yanking it side to side,out from his leg. He whimpers in pain, hands going out to grab at your hair. You push the knife to his neck, Aemond stands moving closer to you. Camera shaking in his hand. He's so bewildered by what's before him he doesn't even think to knock you off his brother's lap. Not that he'd want to.

He watches the blood spurt out of his leg angrily,“Who the fuck are you?” Aegon gasps. Your mouth curves into a smile. The knife traces the column of his neck , over his Adam's apple. You watch thin dribbles of blood mark up the white expanse of his neck. Your body shadows over his face. Perfect silhouette encased in a halo of light. “Aemond do something!” his eyes flick towards his brother. And your hand grips his chin harshly pulling him up until the knife is digging into his neck.

“Your brother is too pussy drunk to help.” you look into Aegons eyes, perfect swirls of purple, his face pale and sweaty, “Isn't it so sweet? He would have thrown a punch if I asked, hours before I let him have a taste” you chuckle at your words. Reaching behind you to plunge fingers into the open wound. He screams out at the intrusion. Tears escaping his eyes. You push a finger into your mouth and then pull it out with a pop “see i’d lie and say you tasted so sweet, real sweet. But you’re fucking rotten” you spit.

You stand. Running your hands through your hair. The movement is soft and innocent in contrast to what you've done, you sigh. Turning to Aemond, your eyes softening. Your hand peels off the ski mask. Your hand smooths his hair back tenderly, “Like we planned, yeah?” you smile and then your hand traces over the scar he was left. He smiles, eyes closing at your touch. Hand reaching out to pull the knife from your hand.

“You fucking planned this!” Aegon shouts at the realisation, his face is pale at the blood loss, and Aemond drops the camera in response. He turns to you, capturing your lips quickly. He can taste the blood on his tongue. Warm, metallic. You're right, he is rotten. He smirks and turns to his brother. He grips the knife tightly in his hand. You press a kiss to his shoulder and them watch him stalk over to him.

The camera is heavy in your hands as you lift it from the grass. You kneel next to Aegon. Aemond grips at his hair pulling him from the ground and then lets the knife cut through his skin like paper. You watch Aegon panic. His hands reaching out to stop the bleeding but they only fall into his lap. The blood falls like a red scarf. Coating the grass and his body like blanket. And then his eyes still. His lips left open in a wide panic. Aemond drops his body to the floor. Hand grasping for yours. He pulls you in for a kiss over his body. You feel him shake in euphoria. Hands running down the length of your bare body

He pulls away“ I don't want anyone touching you again” his hand leaves a bloody print against your cheek. “Got it, Reaper?”

You smirk up at him. “Yeah.”

You pull your hand towards your face, it still stinks of lye as much as you scrub at it. You inhale the cigarette, eyes glazing over to Aemond, one hand on the wheel. The other runs against the soft flesh of your thigh. You smile at his touch. Hand clasping as his own. The sun casts a honey light on his face, hair lighting up golden. The RV pulls up along the side of the road and he pounces on you like a dog. “Fuckin’ perfect, and all for me”

@spn-obession

#aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #dark!aemond x reader #modern!aemond

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 4 months ago

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At This Hour

Jonathan Levy x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 24: On the counter

Summary: You look after Ava while Jonathan goes out on a date.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing and being so lovely! <3

Warnings: neighbour!reader, mentions of the reader liking horror films/Terrifier, reader also has a cat, p in v sex, cream pie, fingering, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 2554

Jonathan knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But he just can’t help himself.

The date had been a bad one, pointless in fact. He should have ducked out after the first ten minutes, no five.

But he’d stayed and now it was nearly twelve fucking am by the time he got home. He should really go to bed. Get some sleep.

Instead, he was talking to you, and drinking coffee. Oh, three am him was going to be pissed.

“I’m sorry I kept you so late,” Jonathan pushes his glasses higher. “Please, you got to let me give you some money.”

You shake your head, raising your hand, “Oh, no, no, no, you letting me pinch your netflix and amazon password for the last four months is more than enough.”

He chuckles, fiddling with his mug, “Yeah, but that’s just being neighbourly.”

You scoff. “It is not, Jonathan.”

Your friendship had started about seven months ago, when Jonathan had taken in a grand total of eight parcels from fedex on your, and your roommates, behalf in one day.

After collecting them, you’d apologised profusely, and baked him a banana cake. Panicking when you gave it to him that a, you didn’t actually know if he was allergic to anything, and b, that he actually liked bananas.

Luckily he did.

Your friendship had grown when his car wouldn’t start one morning, and you’d given him a lift to work on your moped and picked him up after. Plus you’d got your friend’s cousin’s, uncle’s ex-colleague to have a look at his car and sort out the problem.

He’d bought you lunch and looked after your cat if you had to go out of town. You watched his daughter if he had to work late on the days he had her.

Originally, this hadn’t been his weekend to have Ava, hence why he had a date. A very, very bad date.

“Come on,” he smiled at you, that horrible brilliantly blinding smile that leaves you weak at the knees, “usually you’re just with her for what, forty five minutes? An hour, this was nearly four.”

You giggle, “I can’t believe you didn’t just politely leave.”

“I am a man of faults.”

You laugh harder, “Look, I like Ava, we watched a series of R rated horror films and I made sure she ate her weight in sugar without brushing her teeth.”

He grins. “I’m sure I would have had a better time with you guys here.”

You shrug, “Well, you can join us next time. We’re going to watch Terrifier.” You tease.

“Ugh,” he shudders, “Don’t tell me you like those kinds of films?”

You can’t stop from smiling at his dramatic reaction. “What? You don’t?”

He pulls a face and you giggle.

“They’re fun!”

“They are not.” He takes a sip of his cooling coffee, trying to nurse it as long as he could.

“They are.”

“All blood and guts.” He screws up his face, putting it on a bit for you.

“But the prosthetics! Plus it’s not real.” You say playfully.

“Freaky.” He shakes his head. “Too much for my old heart.”

You snort. “Jonathan.”

“What?” He smiles.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You just want me to tell you how young you are.” You rest your chin on your hand as you look at him.

He pauses and then nods rapidly, “I do actually, and you have to, it’s the social contract.”

You giggle, “Well, I’m not.”

“That's unfair.” He says in mock outrage, making you laugh harder.

“Fine,” you hold up your hands, “You’re very handsome.”

He pauses, looking at you for a moment. “I said you had to tell me I was young, not beautiful.” He teases, expecting you to throw a comment back at him immediately.

But instead, you pause. For a moment, it’s almost funny how you freeze.

“I…” You swallow, your mouth dry. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“It’s okay,” he quickly covers, “I’m just teasing, it’s fine.”

You smile weakly, your skin burning. You get up quickly, nearly knocking your mug over in the process. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Sorry, I, erm,” you pick up your mug, and then his, “Let me, erm, I’ll put them in the dishwasher.”

You turn before he even has a chance to say anything, rushing over to the other side of the kitchen, putting the mugs on the counter.

Jonathan stands quickly, calling your name, “Hey, it’s fine, really. Don’t worry,” anxiety cuts into his chest, leaving his ribs bare. He walks behind you, accidentally bumping into you as you turn.

“Sorry,” he grabs your arm to steady you and himself, his heart thudding so hard in his temples he’s sure he’s going to burst a blood vessel.

You glance at his eyes nervously, breathing hard. “I…”

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He says softly. He should put his hand down, stop touching your arm. “I was just teasing.”

You nod, “I know, I… I’m sorry.” Your insides squirm a little, trying to find a way out to escape this awkwardness.

“Don’t be,” he breathes, leaning a fraction closer. “It’s always nice when someone beautiful calls you handsome.”

Your brain glitches, static for a moment, rebooting.

“Beautiful?” You repeat.

“Beautiful.” His mouth says before he has any say in the matter. “And kind, and funny, and wond-”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him deeply. He groans into your mouth, pressing you back against the counter.

It takes him a moment to catch up with his body, to figure out this is actually real, not some well used fantasy he plays out behind his eyes in the shower.

You pull lightly at his hair, moaning softly when he licks into your mouth and pushes his legs between yours. He rocks against you, his cock quickly hardening in his trousers as he presses against the seam of your jeans.

Part of him wants to pull back, to not push things, to not rush. But the much louder voice in his head laments at how long he’s been holding back, how long he’s been thinking of you while touching himself with a lubed hand.

You gasp as he kisses along your jaw, his beard tickling your skin as he sucks at your pulse point greedily. God, if he could just get you to make that noise one more time.

“Jonathan,” you moan softly, pressing yourself closer to him and pulling on his shoulders, needing to rid the fraction of space between you.

He growls, nipping at your neck and nearly coming on the spot when he hears how needily you call his name. “Can I take these off?” His words are nearly lost with how he sucks on your skin, barely able to move his mouth back more than a centimetre. He pulls at your top, your trousers and you nod hastily.

His groan at your confirmation makes you shiver. He practically tears your clothing from you, pushing and pulling the material away as if it personally offended him, before he hikes your right leg up around his waist and urges you up onto the counter.

He sucks your breasts into his mouth greedily, quickly going from one to another, like a child in a toy store unable to choose his favourite. While he presses his thumb to your clit and strokes his fore and middle fingers through your folds.

He groans deeply at the wetness he finds, rocking against you as he pushes inside.

You gasp, biting down on your lip to keep yourself vaguely quiet as you cling onto his shoulders with one hand and the counter with the other.

He strokes gently, pressing rhythmically against your walls as he toys with your clit and you sob, practically clinging onto him for dear life.

Pleasure builds dizzyingly fast in your belly, threatening to pull you down with every stroke. You moan in his ear, lightheaded, just about gathering yourself together to whimper his name. You weren’t prepared for this utter onslaught, for him to be so determined to pull you apart piece by piece.

Spikes of sensation buzz along your skin, twisting and building.

“You’re going to make me come,” you sob, shocked at how quickly your body is ready to fall apart.

“Fuck yes,” he growls, sinking his teeth into your collar bone before he licks up your neck back to your lips. It’s hot and wet and messy, his tongue in your mouth to quiet your sobs as you pulse and gasp, coming violently around his fingers.

You shake in his grip, breaking the kiss to bury your face in his shoulder. He works you through it, stroking and pumping until you feel like liquid in his hands.

“God,” he groans, kissing your forehead and breathing hard. He takes his fingers out of you slowly and shoves them in his mouth, moaning wantonly at the taste.

When you manage to pull back a fraction to look at him, you can see his glasses have steamed up. You giggle and he grins around his fingers, taking them out with a pop to kiss you.

You run your hands through his hair, shivering as he presses close once more.

“Do you?” He starts at the same moment you speak - “Can I?”

He chuckles, nodding for you to go first.

“Take these off.” You mutter, pulling at his jumper. He moves back a fraction, letting you pull it over his head and snorting when his glasses get caught in the neckline. He whips them off, placing them on the side, his curls wild.

Jonathan bites his lip as you unbuckle his jeans, helping you by undoing his fly.

“Can I fuck you?” He groans, kissing your cheek and jaw, each glide of his tongue makes your body sing.

“Please.”

He growls, barely pushing his jeans and boxers down his thighs before he’s taking his heavy cock in hand and pumping himself a few times.

You take a cheeky look down and bite your lip.

He grins, “Like what you see?”

The line would make you giggle in any other situation, but now your mouth is watering. You nod rapidly.

“Oh,” he chuckles, spitting in his hand, “So that’s what makes you lost for words, I get it.” He smears his saliva over the head of his cock before he presses closer, guiding the tip to your folds.

“You’re really-” You whine, gasping as he notches at your entrance and just glides inside. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your body bucking unthinkingly as he pushes deeper.

He groans deeply, sighing like this is his first drink of water after a long hot day. He slides his hands to your inner thighs, spreading you wider as he eases in.

“Jonathan,” you gasp.

“I know, I know, fuck, you’re so tight.” He lightly rocks his hip, sheathing himself in the last few inches.

You whine, licking into his mouth when he kisses you hungrily. He thrusts experimentally, easing out a fraction before he pushes back in.

“How do you like it?” He mutters against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back.

“I don’t mind,” you manage to say, your voice barely there.

He snorts, moving one of your legs to wrap around his waist again as he takes hold of your hips in a firm grip. “Tell me if you want something.” He groans, pulling out and then plunging back in. “Want to make you come again.”

You nearly shriek, throwing your head back and managing, somehow, to keep your voice muffled as he sets a brutal pace.

He bucks into you rapidly, shaking the cutlery on the drainer by the sink with every deep thrust. The toaster jumps with every buck of his hips into yours. The sound of your slick echoing as you coat his cock.

“You look so fucking hot when you come,” he groans. “So fucking wet.” He pounds into you, sweat beading in his hairline, the way you grab at him and whine setting his blood ablaze.

His pubic bone smacks against your clit with every thrust, his cock rolling against your walls and pushing impossibly deeper.

Something in you wants to break, needs to snap and flood out as he keeps rhythm, your body moving in time with his desperately.

You bite at his neck, sucking a love bite into his skin and shivering when he tenses and growls. He pulls you back a fraction with one hand on your jaw, his eyes so dark, and licks into your mouth like you hold the secrets of the universe.

You whimper, so needy for anything he’ll give - and he’ll give you everything.

Pleasure pulses in your core, makes your pussy flutter and you’re so close you can taste the sweetness on your tongue.

“Jonathan!”

“You gonna come on my cock? Gonna make a nice creamy mess?” He groans, his balls tightening. “Want to feel you, please.”

You gasp, sobbing silently as your orgasm is ripped from you. Pleasure explodes along your nerves, wiping out any other thought as he drowns you and revives you in the same instant.

“Shit.” Jonathan’s hips stutter, his mouth open as your walls squeeze and suck him deeper, milking him for every single drop. He comes with a deep groan, emptying rope after rope of hot, thick cum inside.

He clings onto you as he finishes, hazy for a moment with the strength of his orgasm.

You breathe hard, he can feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Lightly he sucks on your neck, licking the salt from your skin. He kisses your temple. “You okay?”

“I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a week.” You tease, exhausted, and he chuckles.

“I’ll wait on you hand and foot while you recover.” He smiles when you look up at him, stroking your cheek as he kisses you softly, reverently.

“Honestly, was that alright?” He mutters, a pang of worry settling under his ribs.

You snort, and kiss him deeply, stroking your fingers through his beard. “Fucking amazing.”

He grins. “Do you want to do it again sometime? Maybe in a bed after I’ve bought you dinner? I’ll even watch that Terrifier film with you.”

You giggle and nod. “I’d like that.”

He tries to help you down, but you end up helping him. His jeans have twisted around his calves and he nearly falls to a heap on the floor.

“My hero,” he mutters as you pull them off and kiss his thigh. “We’re lucky Ava didn’t wake up when we were… can you imagine me falling over is the thing that actually wakes her? She’ll need therapy for years after seeing her dad naked on the kitchen floor with his jeans around his ankles.”

You clap your hand over your mouth to stop your fit of laughter and he grins as he helps you back to your feet.

“I love hearing you laugh.” He lightly touches your cheek. “Do you want to take a shower?” He gives you a cheeky smile. “With me? You can stay over… if you want, I mean. No pressure.”

You smile and nod. “I’d like a shower. With you. And sleep over.”

He grins, wrapping his arms around you.

Thank you for reading!

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imrkos · 2 months ago

Text

LOST IN THE FIRE (R.C)

synopsis after the infamous scandal involving Yn and her now ex-boyfriend goes viral, Yn is forced to leave the only world she's ever known and adjust to her new life in the Outer Banks. Sent to live with her aunt, uncle, and cousin Kiara, Yn finds herself hanging around the type of people she swore to never be seen with and quickly becomes entangled in the rivalries between the Kooks and Pogues. And one thing Yn doesn’t take is crap from others which only catches the attention of Rafe Cameron who seems to be seriously smitten about her despite her association with his sworn enemies. But to Rafe’s disinterest Ward seems to have a new idea involving Rafe having to make Yn head over heels about him and use her elite status to cover up what he’s been doing behind everyone's back.

( previous <- MASTERLIST -> chapter two )

CHAPTER ONE : smau + written

WORD COUNT: 3089

10:24 PM — ARRIVAL.

Your name, his name, your face, his face, all plastered across every headline, all on Instagram, Twitter, TikTok, and even made its way onto Facebook. The video of you slapping your ex and tossing your ring at your own best friend — the ring he gave you and supposedly designed himself — was now as viral as it was scandalous.

The paparazzi, the parties, your vacation to Dubai, and then Paris were all gone as soon as you answered your phone the next morning. “Pack your bags.” was all your mother had said, she didn't even sound angry, which was even scarier.

You knew you should've waited till the gala was over, but when Gossip Girl posted that picture of Caleb and Gigi, your presumed “ride or die” you couldn't help but mess with them.

You first texted Caleb that you were needy and waiting for him in a room upstairs — you didn't show up — then you texted Gigi, something about her ex waiting for her, and as you presumed she went in and it happened to be the same room Caleb was in, and then you entered.

Long story short, thanks to your new BFF and accomplice Gossip Girl, you found out they were expecting and lucky them they were having a girl! “What great parents you guys will be! Sad she’ll grow up with a skank of a mother and a coward of a father but I guess it works.” The next thing you know Gigi is aiming toward you and falls, Caleb then tries grabbing you and you slap him, toss your ring, say a few nasty words, and the end.

How you guys ended up on tape will forever be a mystery, even Gossip Girl couldn't figure it out. But Caleb assumed you had gotten one of your friends to record and threatened to sue. Pathetic but that was your mother's last straw and now you're here, on a train — which you weren't too happy about — going to see family you haven't seen since you were seven.

Last you heard, they were doing well with their restaurant, and your cousin, Kiara, often got into trouble with some kids that your aunt and uncle disapproved of.

From what you’ve searched up on your way there it seems like they live by the beach which you don’t mind but compared to your room back in the Upper East Side it wasn’t all that. You also noticed that she followed you about two hours ago, you requested to follow her and she almost immediately accepted.

Interesting, you thought, you quickly took notice of her friends, they were all over her feed — the same ones your aunt and uncle disliked you assume. Her life looked completely different from what you were used to, she had pictures of her by the beach with her friends, some of herself, and turtles..lots of them.

Would she be your first choice for a friend? No, but she was family after all and one thing you did prioritize was your family. Suddenly you hear the intercom and watch as people start getting off. Gosh, how you missed New York already.

“Y/n!” You hear as soon as you step out of the train, your aunt stands there with a warm smile plastered on her face — you can tell she was forcing it, she seemed happy to see you, yes but she looked too happy. Your uncle stands to her right as he waits his turn to greet you, he looks the same way he looked all those years ago.

“Hey,” you greeted, “It's been so long!! When your mom was on the phone with me and suggested you come here I was so excited! Maybe you can help Kiara stay out of trouble.” Kiara, you noticed she wasn't there “Kiara, she's at home. Hurricane passed the day before so she decided to stay.,” your uncle Mike says, That answers your question.

10:38 PM.

“So how was the ride?” Terrible “It was alright.” You’ve been answering questions non-stop for the past 20 minutes, the car ride only seeming longer the more she kept asking questions. How’s New York? I heard you want to go to Princeton, your brother, how is he?

The endless questions would replay in your mind as you sat in the backseat of their car. New York's perfect, I actually want to go to Harvard, Princeton is my mom's dream, My brother? He stopped responding to our messages a few months ago.

You sighed looking out the window and watching the world go by. Every now and then you’d catch a glimpse of something that reminded you of home, yet none of it felt like home. You could feel your uncle's eyes on you from the mirror “You’ll get used to this.” you stay silent only looking at him for a second before looking back out “No paparazzi bothering you here, beach days 24/7, I guarantee you’ll make friends fast.” he continued, you only gave him a slight smile.

As you turned onto a narrow street flanked by rows of beach cottages, your phone buzzed. Mom displayed across your screen “I sent you there for a reason, don't make me and your father look even worse.” She was replying to your previous message, four hours later.

Once in a while, you'd wonder how your dad ended up with someone like your mom. They were total opposites. Your mom grew up with wealth and influence, and that's how she landed her roles. Your dad on the other hand came from a humble upbringing, he went to school for music despite your grandparent's disappointment, failed, got back up, and ended up with multiple hits.

They were yin and yang, so different yet they worked.

You always imagined your life with Caleb, would it end up like your parent's relationship? Disagreements here and there but always finding yourselves back to one another, or like his parents? Perfect on the outside but broke from the inside.

Love scared you, yet you seemed to yearn for it.

As you got out of the car, the salt air hit you immediately, and for a second, you almost forgot about the mess your life had become. The waves crashing in the distance gave off an oddly calming effect, but you knew that wouldn't last long.

“Here’s home,” your uncle Mike said, A modest beach house, white with baby blue exterior shutters. It definitely wasn't what you were used to but it was pretty.

“Let's get inside sweetheart, let's hope the wifi’s back up!” you nod and earn a reassuring smile from your uncle as he grabs your bags from the trunk. You quickly take notice of the difference between their house and yours, pictures of all three of them smiling, baby pictures, of course, the half-burned candles, the atmosphere feels warm and peaceful compared to the lonesome one you're used to.

You could hear your aunt snickering with someone on the phone but you paid no mind to it, “Your room is upstairs, three doors down to the left, make yourself at home” Mike said coming down the stairs “Thank you” you reacted making your way upstairs.

The room was cozy and you had a great view of the sea, you couldn't complain. 10:47 Your phone lit up, a message from Instagram,

Kiara 🌺: Hey, wanna go to a Boneyard? I'll be there in about 10 minutes. Get ready.

You stare at the message for a while…Boneyard? You hadn't even met the girl in person and she was already asking to hang out.

You: Your parents fine with it? lol

Kiara 🌺: Fine with me showing my cousin around late at night? Yes of course :)

You chuckle and send a simple “right” text before turning your phone off, So much for staying out of trouble.

You decide on a simple tube top and ruffled skirt you had bought before leaving, your mom had picked out most things in your luggage, you could say many things about her but you couldn't say she didn't have taste.

You hear three quiet knocks before turning around and being met by an awkward-looking Kiara “I was at the Boneyard and remembered you were coming today,” she rambled before sitting down next to you

“It looks cute, your outfit.” she compliments “Thanks. Thought I underdressed but, I'm assuming this Boneyard thing isn't very glitz and glamour.” she snorts “Yeah no,” she gets up before talking again “Can I use it?” she asks pointing at the bathroom, you nod frantically and she smiles closing the door behind her.

You didn't know what to feel about her. She's out there. You're also out there. Maybe you guys will get along after all? But Gigi was out there as well and look at how that ended up.

Your head turns once you hear the door open “Alright so my friends are waiting for us there so we should get going” she says, you quickly stand up straightening your skirt, “You walked?” she turns her head towards you motioning for you to lower your voice, right, her parents.

You guys quietly make your way downstairs and out the door making sure you don't make a sound, “No, I didn't walk, JJ, my friend offered to drive me and I said yes but I kinda thought we could drive there together so he went back.” she answered as soon as you guys made it outside, “Oh” you reply following Kiara to the car you were just in “My dad is gonna kill me, get in” she says opening the passenger door for you.

As you guys make your way to the Boneyard, Kiara breaks the silence and starts asking questions. — like mother like daughter. “Gossip Girl who is it?” “I'm not too sure myself” “How come you've not gotten into acting or singing?” “My mother” “Princeton? So you're really smart” “More like my mom bribed a few people there but I guess”

The rest of the car ride consisted of pure silence beside the hum of the car engine and Kiara’s occasional humming along to the radio. You on the other hand stared out the window drifting back to your thoughts from earlier.

What are my parents up to right now? Is your brother wondering what you're doing right now? Has he seen the many articles with your name plastered on them? Has Kiara?

When the car finally pulled into a gravel lot near the beach, the first thing that hit you was the cool breeze followed by the smell of wood burning. You weren't sure what you were expecting when you heard Boneyard but this wasn't it.

A crowd of teenagers gathered together, sitting on the hoods of cars, some in small clusters, others laughing, dancing, watching a group of guys throwing a football around. It was everything your mother kept you from. Kiara immediately headed toward a circle of people, and you followed, trying your hardest not to stand out too much. But soon enough there were eyes on you — curiosity and intrigue written across their faces. You could hear the snippets of whispered comments and almost hidden glances. You could tell they all recognized you, but you couldn't tell if you were welcomed here or if they wanted you out.

“Yo, Kie, who's this?” a voice suddenly called out, sharp and demanding, cutting through the noise of people around you guys.

You turned to see a guy walking towards you, he was tall and lean, with messy blonde hair that fell just above his eyes. His demeanor was confident like he was used to the attention, having people notice him. When he locked eyes with you his gaze flickered — he looked like he was trying to figure you out. He slightly squinted his eyes, it was hard to tell what he was thinking at that moment but you felt a slight change in the air.

Kiara rolled her eyes but replied “My cousin, Y/n.” she seemed unfazed by his intense stare. “Y/n, this is Rafe-” she continued before suddenly getting cut off “Rafe Cameron.” he extends a hand out but you don't take it, leaving him puzzled but soon his puzzled expression turns into a smug one.

“Alright,” he says leaning in just a little too close, his eyes still fixated on yours “Ms.L/n would you care for a drink?” you shake your head no, keeping your mouth shut, slightly amused at his offer. Rafe takes a step back, his eyes now wandering on your body, he takes notice of your outfit. “Well, I'll make sure to keep an eye out for you Ms.L/n,” he turns to Kiara and back to you “Just be careful, you don't want to get lost with the wrong crowd” he winks.

Before you could respond, Kiara was already pulling you away, leading you to a firepit, you noticed it was surrounded by her friends you recognized from her Instagram. “Gosh, he's so annoying” Kiara complains, you nod, still feeling Rafe’s eyes on you as you sit down next to her.

“I kinda guessed he'd walk up to you guys, I mean hey look who it is!” the blonde-haired guy says, earning himself a slight nudge from the guy beside him “Ignore him, I’m Pope, it's nice to meet you! This idiot is JJ and this one over here,” he says pointing to the guy next to Kiara “Is John B.” You notice them all staring at you waiting for you to say something “Y/n, Y/n L/n, nice to meet you guys.”

“So, Rafe Cameron?” Jj asks, “I think I know better than to associate myself with somebody like him.” They all laugh in unison, “Yeah, he's a bit crazy” John B says “A bit? He’s like a total lunatic.” Kiara adds — Crazy lunatic huh?

11:58 PM.

You had been keeping yourself busy talking with some guy you met a couple of minutes back. His eyes often drifted toward a girl a few feet away from you guys and you quickly understood y'all were in the same boat “Trying to get over her?” you asked “Hmm?” he mumbled turning back to you “Oh- She’s y’know- it's complicated.” You nod, and he gives you a sheepish smile taking a sip from the drink Kiara offered you guys — some cheap-smelling liquor with orange juice.

You were pulled away from your conversation when you heard commotion starting on the other side of the beach. Kiara and Pope looking helpless next to JJ and John B arguing with some guy, you quickly make your way to Kiara’s side listening to the argument unfolding,

“She doesn't want it, asshole!” the guy spits back, slapping JJ’s cup away causing it to spill onto John B. “Topper please.” you hear the girl next to the guy plead “We’re laying low. Being normal.” Pope chimes in trying to calm the situation down but to no avail “Oh my god” Pope lets out as soon as John B pushes Topper

“Don't make me drown you like your old man,” Topper said, causing John B to lunge at him but misses before being punched by Topper, falling to the sand.

“Holy shit!” You yell out, “Stop him!” You say, Pope only shaking his head clearly shaken up, you scoff looking around, your eyes locked with Rafes, he was standing, his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed by what was happening. “Hey” he mouths at you, you roll your eyes turning back to see John B fighting for his life “Fuck” you mumbled.

“Stop!” Kiara yells out getting closer to the two guys fighting “Topper!” the girl — his girlfriend you assumed — yelled out. Suddenly you see JJ, gun in hand, pointing it at Topper's head “Your move, broski.” Your eyes widen at the sight of the gun “Put the gun down, JJ!” the girlfriend yells out, JJ laughs “Did you say something, princess?” John B looks at JJ, shaking his head “Cool out, JJ.” he says trying to regain his breath “I was saving you, bro.” he replies,

Kiara looks over at you, she looks distressed, her hair blowing onto her face, and she has a firm grip on your arm. JJ raises the gun to the sky “Get the fuck off our side of the island!” he yells out firing a few shots into the sky, the people around you panicking — you were too but stay by Kiara’s side.

JJ comes closer to you guys “What the fuck!” you say shoving him slightly “What? I just saved his fucking life!” he cursed, you only looking at him in disbelief “Oh yeah? By pulling a gun out at someone? You're a real fucking genius!” You yell “Listen here, Angel this is how it works out here! Pogues versus Kooks. It's been this way forever, and you can't come here suddenly and tell us what’s right and wrong! Y’know, you seem to really fit in with those Kooks! We’ve all seen those headlines, you aren't a saint.”

“JJ!” you hear Kiara yell, you only look at him and smile “I don't know who you think you're talking to but just know I have eyes and ears everywhere, call me all you want, and don't be surprised when something of yours is leaked to the public. It's a small island, right? I'm guessing things spread around fast here. Watch your tone.” You warn before walking off “Yn!” you hear Kiara yell out as you make your way to the car

“Told you.” you hear, “Told me what?” you ask already expecting to see his face, probably leaning up against something, his signature smug face. “I don't think mommy and daddy would want to see their perfect Angel hanging around people like those Pogues.” you lift your head now leaning against Kiara’s car — you were right, he was leaning against what you assumed was his car, looking down at you. “What's up with this Pogue, Kook thing?” He shrugs “It's been this way for as long as I can remember. You're too pretty to be hanging out with them.” he says leaning in close, just like earlier.

“How about I drive you home?” he suggests “As if.” he chuckles, bringing a hand to his face, and fixing his hair “I like you,” he says “I’ll see you around, doll.”

“Oh no, you're not.” you laugh

“Oh trust me. We’ll be spending a lot of quality time together. Sweet dreams, pretty girl.”

NOTE: Hello!! hope you enjoyed this lol, was gonna upload it thursday but oopsie and then yesterday it snowed so yeah I went out :> but anyways thank you for reading!

TAGLIST: @vwosnz // @high-functioning-cosplayer // @bettys-redwinesupernova // @bambiangels // @grapejuice32 // @amterasuu // @starkeyszn

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sanguineterrain · 9 months ago

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THE PT2 OF REPORTER! READER AND JASON OH.MY.GOD I LOVEEEED IT could you pleaaase do a pt3? 🙏 i need them to kiss already 😩 maybe someone from the batfam or even roy go to jason's house and be like ??????who are you????? to reader please💕 i love your writing, i hope you have a nice day💖

here it is! hope y'all enjoy :) part 1 | part 2

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: gunshot wounds, injured jason, nightwing cameo, patching up, kissing. almost 2.2k

****

You're being a snoop.

In your defense, you're a reporter with too much time on your hands in the Red Hood's apartment. It's impossible not to snoop.

It's also been four days since you moved in. You kind of feel like a crazy ex, hunting for proof that Hood's cheating on you.

So far, you've found nothing except for a worrying amount of hidden firearms. There's a handgun in the toaster. What the hell.

You've been trying to work on the case, but it's hard to investigate when you're in witness protection. Hood is out right now chasing a lead. He had said not to worry about it, but how can you not? How can you not worry about him?

You glance at the clock. 9:24. Hood was supposed to be home half an hour ago. He said he was chasing a lead. You didn't want him to go alone, but you're also pretty shit at avoiding assassins, so.

You've ordered Chinese food from the select list of restaurants Hood said you can order from. He left a wad of cash for you to use. When you paid, you had a moment's pause.

Is the Red Hood your sugar vigilante?

Hm. Not something you're willing to explore right now.

You chew a nail and pick at a crab rangoon. Hood miraculously (or, maybe not so much, considering his stalker tendencies) chose your favorite Chinese restaurant. Usually, you'd have gobbled up your dinner by now. But you can't stop looking at the clock.

The floorboards in the hall creak. You're up instantly, and you go to the door. You wait for Hood's confirmation text that it's him outside. It doesn't come.

There's hushed voices. You run back to the toaster and grab the gun. You have no idea how to use it, but it can't be that hard, right? Point and shoot?

The door opens. You aim the gun. Right in Nightwing's face.

"Whoa," he says, lifting his free arm. His other holds up Hood, who's bleeding from his shoulder and thigh. Holy fuck.

"Safety's on, smarty," Hood slurs, more than a little out of it. "We gotta fix y'posture."

"Oh my God," you say, dropping the gun and racing to help Hood.

Nightwing takes a step back. Hood grunts as he's dragged along.

"Uh, who are you?" Nightwing asks.

"Gotham Gazette," you say on instinct.

"They're w'me," Hood mumbles. "Pu' me down, Wing."

"Why do you have a civilian in your apartment?" Nightwing asks, helping Hood onto the couch.

You run into your bedroom and return with two pillows to support Hood's head.

"You got shot?" you ask, voice going high. "What the actual fuck, Red?!"

"Hood, why do you have a civilian in your apartment?"

Hood groans. "Can we save questions for th'end?"

"Jesus," Nightwing says. "You're ridiculous."

"That's what I said," you grumble, removing Hood's equipment.

"Great. There's two 'f ya. This is why I didn't wanna come here," Hood says. "My reporter gets nervous, Dickface."

"You coming home shot would make any reasonable person nervous, you jerk," you say, scowling.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "God, Red, what did you—"

You peel back Hood's jacket. His undershirt is sticky with blood and singed skin. Your first real, live gunshot wound.

"Wing's got it, sweet," Hood says. "Go on, y'don't gotta see this. 'S gross, I know."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say firmly. You look at Nightwing. "Do you have a problem with me being here?"

"Well, a civilian shouldn't—"

"Good. What do you need from me?"

"Go have a cup'a tea," Hood says.

You glare. "I wasn't talking to you, Helmet Boy."

"Ever hear'a bedside manner?"

"No. Hence why I'm a reporter."

Hood slumps against the couch. That worries you more—if he doesn't have the energy to fight back, his injuries must be bad.

Anxiously, you look at Nightwing. He presses his lips together and then makes a decision.

"Okay. I need hot water and the first aid kit under the microwave."

You nod. "Got it."

You fetch his requests and return. Nightwing gets to work on Hood's thigh first. You hover, finally settling near Hood's head. He's in his undershirt, his tactical pants, and his boots. You touch the side of his helmet. He turns his head to you.

"Didn't I tell ya t'beat it?" he asks.

"Can't get rid of me that easily." You look at Nightwing. "Is it bad?"

"His thigh isn't bad. Bullet missed anything major and went clean through. I'm just patching him up. Gave him some painkillers. Gonna be a bit before they kick in."

You watch Nightwing pull a needle through Hood's skin for half a second before you turn away. Hood grunts.

"Don't gotta stay," he says quietly. "Lotta blood."

"You're hurt," you say. You don't know what else to say, how to put your urgency into words. Physically, you can't leave Hood's side.

"'M tough," he mumbles. "Toughest guy on the block."

"Dumbest too," Nightwing says, cutting the thread.

"Look who's talkin'."

Their dynamic is odd. Not what you expected, considering how empty the outside of Hood's fridge is. You couldn't find any other photos of friends or family.

"Alright." Nightwing sighs and shifts over. "Now the shoulder. Hood, did it go through?"

"'Fraid not, Blue. Gonna hafta deep dive."

You make a weak noise in your throat. Nightwing pinches Hood's side. Hood winces.

"No, no. I was jokin'. Stupid joke. Sorry."

"I should've never let you go out alone," you say.

"Let me? 'M a stubborn man. Even the Bat can't make me do shit."

"Understatement of the century," Nightwing says, studying the wounds. "You're gonna need to take off your helmet for this one."

They both look at you. You puff up.

"I'm not—"

"Look," Nightwing says gently. "I know you're—"

"Blindfold! You can blindfold me." You get up and look around. "What can we use for a..."

"I think I have a black tie in the top middle drawer," Hood says.

You race to his room and race back with the tie. It smells like the same lavender detergent as your sheets. Nightwing and Hood are whispering when you return; they stop talking as soon as you enter. You pretend not to notice.

"'Kay. Nightwing?" You hand him the tie. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Weirdest patching up I've ever done," Nightwing says.

"I've had weirder," Hood says.

Nightwing ties the tie around your head. "Okay?"

You nod. "Good."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Hood asks.

You roll your eyes. "I don't know, Red."

"Don' roll ya eyes a'me."

You raise your brows. "How did you—"

"Magic. Do it, Wing."

There's some rustling, a click, and then you can hear Hood's breathing, just like you did a few nights ago.

"This is gonna hurt," Nightwing warns.

Hood hums. "Nothing I can't handle."

The sound of a bullet being dug out of flesh is one you never want to hear again. Hood's strangled groan is a million times worse.

"Almost done, Little Wing," Nightwing whispers. "I'm sorry. Almost done."

"Red?" You inch forward, searching for his hand. He takes it and squeezes.

"'M fi–ine," he says, sounding very much not fine. "Ah, shit. Ha-hate shoulder wounds."

You move closer, cradling his whole arm. Hood grunts. He strokes your knuckles with his thumb.

"'S okay," he says. "'M okay."

His breathing returns to normal after several minutes. You hold his hand the entire time. There's some rustling, and you hear Nightwing stand.

"He'll be okay. He just needs to rest."

"What can I do?" you ask, blindfold still on.

"Well—"

"Nothin'," Hood says. "I'm peachy. Just needa sleep it off."

You whip your head around. "You got shot!"

"Not my first bullet and won't be my last. Here, lemme put on my helmet—"

"Hood, no! My God, you're insane."

"You're realizing this now?" he asks. "'S fine, I can do it—"

"Okay!" Nightwing says loudly. "I'm gonna go. It was nice to meet you. I'm glad Hood has a..."

"Reporter," Hood finishes.

"...Right. A reporter who... cares so much about him. Uh-huh."

It's quiet for a moment. You know they're having a conversation, but you can't see them.

"Don't tell B," Hood says.

Nightwing laughs. "Oh, you're in the shit. A reporter in your apartment and two bullet wounds? You owe me big."

"We're working a case together, and I'm not trying to expose Hood," you say. "I don't even care who you two are."

That is a lie, but whatever. Vigilantes are a paranoid breed. You can relate.

Nightwing sighs. "Alright, okay. I won't say anything. Make sure he doesn't bleed out. If anything changes, call me on his phone."

"I will. Thank you for helping him."

"What I'm here for," Nightwing says, and he sounds like he means it. "Hood?"

"'M fine, Wing. Go home to your girl."

"Ahem. Right. Good night."

The window creaks and then it's just you and Hood. You make yourself comfortable on the floor next to the couch, blindfold still on. You don't mind the dark. Touching Hood, you feel safe.

"Red?"

"Hmm?"

"Oh. Thought you were asleep."

"No, but Wing's lecture had me gettin' there." He squeezes your hand. "Y'okay?"

"Yes."

You lace your fingers together. Hood's hand is cold. You hold it close and try to warm it up.

"Take that off," he says. "I'll put the helmet on."

"Don't be an idiot. You'll jostle your stitches."

"Bossy, bossy..."

You sigh. "Red, whatever you did tonight—"

"Y'know I won't let anything happen to you, right?" he says. "Right?"

"What if you'd died tonight, Hood?"

You eyes are damp. He squeezes your hand again.

"I wouldn't. Not goin' anywhere."

"You have no control over that, and making such promises is outrageous. Why wouldn't you get proper medical attention?" you ask.

"'Cause that requires Batman, and he and I had a tiff."

"A tiff."

"Mmhm."

It sounds like more than that, but you drop it.

"Red, I was so worried."

"Smarty, th' others would take care of ya if anything hap—"

"I was worried about you! I was worried you weren't coming back, Red."

Silence.

"I... I care about you. I mean, yeah, I care about the case, and I wanna bring in the bad guys, but shit, Red. Not at your expense."

He lets go of your hand. Then, a finger dances across your cheek. You gasp.

"Y'really trust me, huh?" he asks quietly.

"Of course." You swallow. "Hood, of course I trust you."

"Shit." A thumb on your lip. "Shit, smarty pie. Why y'trust me so easy?"

His accent is thick with exhaustion. You love it.

"You have a nice voice," you say unthinkingly.

"Goddamnit." He huffs. "You gotta go t'bed, sweetheart."

Your heart pounds. "Why?"

"'Cause otherwise I'm gonna kiss ya. And this whole thing is gonna go t'shit. And you're my favorite reporter."

You lean in. "Red—"

"No." He catches your cheek with his hand. "Bad reporter. Breach a' ethics."

"I'll let you," you say. "Do it, I won't stop you."

"This is the adrenaline talkin'. You were scared, that's why."

You shake your head. You've never been more sure of anything. But you have to make sure that he's sure.

You grab his wrist. "Are you thinking clearly? Are you high?"

"Wing gave me one painkiller, sweet. Takes at least three t'knock me out."

And that weighs you down for a moment, remembering that Hood isn't what you thought he was. He isn't a villain. He's a man who's known unfathomable amounts of pain. He's a man who's killed men. Who'd kill for you.

A man made of flesh and blood and scars and dark curls and a warm, warm neck and... and...

"Shit," Hood says.

And then he kisses you. For a second. Then he pulls back.

"Sorry," he whispers against your mouth. "Sorry, I—"

"No."

You pull him back, cupping the back of his neck. He makes a tiny noise. You start to speak, to worry, but Hood keeps you still with a hand on your arm.

His mouth is hot, a little uncoordinated, but sweet all the same. You're careful to follow his lead. His lips are chapped. He has a little scruff; you stroke his face. It suits him. Anything would.

You cannot turn away from this. From him. That is certain.

You pull away for breath and so you don't undo Nightwing's hard work. You listen to Hood's harsh breathing, pleased that you're the reason for it.

"Wait," he says. "Wait, l-lemme—"

Hood starts to pull off your blindfold. You grab it instantly.

"Red, no. Don't show me just because we kissed."

"But y'don't-don't even know what I look like. How d'you know I'm somebody y'wanna kiss?"

"Because I do. And I will kiss you in the dark for as long as you want me to. Don't do it just because you're afraid of losing me otherwise."

He draws circles on your cheek with his thumb. "Trusting me like that 's crazier than anything I've done, smarty."

"Well, don't we make quite the pair?"

"What, crazy?"

You smile. "I was thinking brave. But it is a fine line."

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x you #jason todd x yn #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd x gender neutral reader #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc fanfiction #dc imagine #inbox #blurb

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burningembers91 · 22 days ago

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Green Eyed Monster - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You Family Unit The Artist's Muse Breaking Eggs Knock at the Door

Synopsis: Park Gyeong-Seok's ex-wife has returned, determined to take back what's hers. But you're not going down without a fight.

A/N: So this piece is somewhat of a filler, to introduce Gyeong-Seok's wife and set up the next part of the story :)

Kim Mi-Na had always been selfish. She’d spent most of her life riding the coattails of others, using them until she got what she wanted, before leaving them high and dry. She never felt remorse for her actions; in her view if people were dumb enough to fall for her bullshit, they deserved to be taken advantage of.

Park Gyeong-Seok had been the perfect person for Mi-Na to sink her acrylic claws into. He was handsome, he had big dreams, and he was head over heels for her. She latched on like a parasite, clinging to him as he worked his way towards success. Gyeong-Seok was a successful artist, who had dreams of opening his own gallery one day. Mi-Na knew that galleries could make a lot of money, and if she twisted this man tightly enough around her finger, she’d never have to work again.

But she hadn’t on planned on getting pregnant, hadn’t planned on giving birth to a baby whose medical needs would almost certainly drain her pitiful husband’s bank account. As the perfect life she had planned for herself spectacularly fell apart, Mi-Na did what she did best; she ran away. For three years she bounced between men, bleeding them dry of cash before moving on. She received the divorce papers from Gyeong-Seok’s lawyers on the grounds of malicious desertion and wondered bitterly how he’d managed to scrape together enough cash for a lawyer. She had no feelings for him or their daughter, she never had, but the fact that he was taking steps to get rid of her from their lives angered her. She thought about returning, but she couldn’t face having to care for a sickly thing like Na-Yeon.

It wasn’t until she saw you with her ex-husband that the green-eyed monster named jealously really raised its head. Three years it had been since she’d last seen Gyeong-Seok, and he appeared to be thriving. She’s spotted you out for lunch, playing happy families with the daughter she’d birthed. She had no idea who you were, but she had the means of finding out. Within 24 hours, Mi-Na had your name, address and your place of work. She followed you, watching as you took care of her daughter. She heard Na-Yeon call you mummy, saw how you loved her in a way Mi-Na never had. She watched as you held hands with Gyeong-Seok, as he got down on one knee and proposed to you. She’d left him because he could no longer give her the lifestyle she desired, and yet the envy that entwined itself around her soul was almost blinding. She decided in that moment that she’d tear apart the little family you’d created, would take back what was rightfully hers. She’d done her fair share of digging on Gyeong-Seok, and while he wasn’t the rich art gallery owner she’d envisioned, she was desperate for money, and he had a stable enough job now as a teacher. All she needed to do was play her cards right, and her ex would be putty in her hands once more.

***

You sat staring at the floor as Gyeong-Seok paced, his face flushed with anger. Na-Yeon had only just stopped crying, her soft snivels muted against your chest as you rocked her soothingly. You held her close, fear gripping you as you waited for Gyeong-Seok to speak. Mi-Na had upended your perfect life, demanding access to the child she’s never bothered to take an interest in. She’d stormed into your home, shouting Na-Yeon’s name, terrifying the little girl who had no idea who her mother was. You could feel yourself begin to shake, could feel the anger rising in you like a tidal wave. This was your family, and no one was going to take them away. She’d only left when you’d agreed to meet the next day, to hear what she had to say.

Gyeong-Seok knew Mi-na wouldn’t play fair. His efforts and money spent trying to divorce her had almost rendered him homeless, but it hadn’t broken him. it taken him a while to realise how abusive she’d been, how she’d used him for a comfortable lifestyle and nothing more. Now that you’d shown him what real love was, he’d been a fool to think Mi-Na ever cared for him.

“What are we going to do?” Your voice was quiet and hoarse as you clung to the little girl you loved as though she were your own. Mi-Na had sworn she’d get her daughter back, had demanded access to the child she’d neglected for three years. You weren’t sure if she’d been bluffing, but you were too scared to take your chances.

“I’m not going to let her win,” Gyeong-Seok promised, coming to sit next to you. “I promise you; Mi-Na will not break this family apart.”

You meant more to him that Mi-Na ever had, had been more of a mother to Na-Yeon than she ever could have been. Gyeong-Seok had been serious about creating a life with you, about marrying you, raising Na-Yeon together and maybe even having a child of your own.

He would meet his ex-wife tomorrow, but he would refuse to give into her demands. She had broken him, chewed him up and spit him out, and left her own daughter as if she were nothing. Mi-Na didn’t deserve a second chance, and Gyeong-Seok wouldn’t allow her to walk over him like she had done before.

Gyeong-Seok’s life was perfect, and he wasn’t about to let anyone take it away. If it was a fight Mi-Na wanted, then it was a fight she was going to get.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game 2 #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #squid game season 2 #park gyeong seok x reader #park gyeong seok x you #park gyeong seok #player 246

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artsninspo · 5 months ago

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FORGIVELESS - V - BACK AND FORTH IT GO, IT'S HARD, I KNOW 🔄

« previous part

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

V - BACK AND FORTH IT GO, IT'S HARD, I KNOW 🔄

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2K

Warning: Mentions of cheating & abusive behaviour.

Summary: The aftermath of the tiff between the reader and her soon to be ex husband is explored with Rio and her mother. Rio is confronted with the depths of his feelings for the reader and how to make his next move his best move. This one is fluffy 🧸 and angsty.

It’s late when you wake up in Rio’s bed alone. You don't remember falling to sleep. All of the stress and adrenaline of the day had finally caught up to you. The clock reads 3am and you sigh climbing out of bed. The cold floors cause you to tiptoe into the bathroom. The tiled floors are even colder. When finished in the bathroom you see a loungewear set and smile that Rio has thought of you. You help yourself to a hot shower. It feels like you've been re-wired. The events of the past 24 hours had been too much mentally and physically. Not only had James cheated but he’d been too close to getting physical. As angry as it made you feel it was sad that it even had to come to this. Freshened up you leave the bathroom and find Rio on the couch looking at a chess board studiously. It’s like he senses you immediately and looks up.

“Thanks for the clothes” you smile and he sits back with open arms. You take the invitation sitting on his lap. It feels good to know he has your back. He doesn't need to make a promise or a declaration. He’s shown it every step of the way. Rio didn't do crazy, drama or stress. He had enough problems to sort out. It was how he knew this thing with you was different. You were in his home and in his arms fully dressed. His previous relationships with women had been more transactional. Sex without strings suited his lifestyle and expectations well. The responsibilities and expectations of a committed relationship didn't appeal to him after exiting his teens and early twenties. The world was too big to commit to one person without seeing what else life could offer him.

"Thanks for letting me crash here” you speak first looking up at him. Rio holds you there against him calmly, settling your nerves and anxiety.

“You don’t have to thank me but you should call your mom.” Rio says. He’d watched your phone ring every hour before plugging it up into the charger. There was no need for missing reports but he could tell she was worried. You sigh ready to admit the truth out loud. You still don't want to, knowing the truth will likely break your moms heart worse than it broke yours.

“Can you drop me to the airport? I don't want to talk about it over the phone. I’m her only child” you confess.

“Alright” Rio responds and his calm is too much for you. You mistrust it knowing how much he lives for control and his principals.

“Rio” you say and his eyes close.

“If you're gonna cop a plea for him don't. It’ll piss me off, he almost put hands on you. He doesn't deserve grace. Keep your plausible deniability. Go visit your mom and then meet me in Mexico. You deserve a vacation” He says with his next steps laid out as far as James was concerned.

You swallow your commentary looking Rio in his eyes before sighing. “I’ll come to Mexico. I get a flight from my moms” you concede.

“I’ll get you the flight,” he says. His usual demeanour is gone, there’s no humour or play in his eyes. Lust is absent too; he’s angry, attentive and composed instead. A side you aren’t familiar with. He gets his phone out and then sighs. “Come on, we gotta go now so you can board on time.”

“Rio, I’m alright. Lighten up” you smile trying to lighten things up.

“Let’s not start lying to each other.” He stands dismissing your attempts to placate the situation.

“Just promise me you wont get yourself in trouble” you sigh, willing to drop it with that assurance.

“I won't” he agrees immediately. Relieved you stand getting your purse and necessities. Rio holds his arm around you the entire ride down the elevator and to his car. He keeps a concerned look on you as he drives you to the airport. He pays for your ticket at the counter and sticks close. He doesnt give a fuck if word gets around that he’s been around town with a woman. Hell he wants it to get back to James. That’s part one of his plan. He needs the whispers to make James sick. He’d fuck with James head first before holding him responsible for his actions.

“Call me when you land” he swallows.

“Ok” you nod, walking into his arms. “See you in Mexico” you smile. Rio forces one. Your commitment to make the best of the situation in spite of your obvious pain only infuriates him more. Not wanting to push your process he presses a kiss against your forehead.

“See you later, Mama” he says, letting you go. He stands there until you're cleared and out of his sight. You feel thankful for how attentive he is. The fact that you are hyperventilating right now is in direct correlation with who Rio’s been for you lately. The fact that your eyes are dry and you have a safe place to land is everything to you. The fact that he had someone there to look in on you makes the world. Once on the plane you draft a message to thank him while your phone is on airplane mode.

The flight is significantly shorter than the drive and you walk through straight to arrivals without any baggage. Your mom greets you with an uneasy smile and you run to her relieved. Her perfume has an instant effect on your nerves and worries.

“Ohh baby, I’m so glad you came,” she says, squeezing you tight.

“Me too Mommy” you admit.

“Are you hungry or do you want to go home?” she asks.

“Starving” you admit having slept on an empty stomach. Checking her watch, your mom sees nothing is open.

“I’ll make your favourite” she smiles, taking your hand.

Once in her car you send Rio a message saying you've landed and are with your mom before sending the one you constructed on your flight. You hope it isn't too much.

“So tell me what’s been going on?”

“What did James tell you?” you ask and she sighs merging onto the freeway.

“That you’ve been absent lately, stopped cooking, cleaning, being around and that you threatened to leave him. He says you think he’s cheated but it’s a misunderstanding. One of his clients has gotten inappropriate and he’s only entertained it via text but not in person. He says he thinks you’ve actually stepped out on him physically. Asked me if you told me anything.” she says and its your turn to sigh.

“Momma-”

“Don’t explain, the panic in his voice told me he was cheating. It was how fast he was talking, how scared he was to lose you. If you think he’s cheated I trust you and I’m so sorry baby.” your mom sighs looking over at you with remorse. Your eyes water, feeling the pain she feels for you.

“He’s been cheating since we moved and she’s fully aware of me, and she talks about me” you confess shaking your head. “I’m done mom.” you add letting a few tears fall.

“I’ll help you move out, for now stay with me” your mom says, surprising you. You frown looking at her. “My love for James is conditional to how you feel about him and how he treats you. The fact that he called me LYING, baby. I’m sorry. He has no shame and I’m disgusted with him. He does not have an ally in me. Hasn’t since he moved you away. I knew something was up when we spent so many weekends having virtual movie marathons.” she says and you look shocked as you arrive at her house. Once parked you follow your mom into her house. A Bachelorette pad, without a single trace of a male touch. You smile feeling the good energy as she heads to the sink to wash up before starting breakfast.

“You don't know how relieved I am to hear you say that” you sigh, sitting at the island as she begins preparing your favourite breakfast. She backs you, oiling the frying pan when she speaks again.

“We haven’t talked in a few weeks, and you dont look like someone who is distraught by cheating. Is he right about there being someone else?” Your mom asks. You feel your face and hands heat. She keeps her back turned giving you privacy and opportunity to lie.

“When I found out I decided I wouldn't be the only one honouring our vows” you confess and when you turn you see your mother is smiling. It's a surprise that she isn't disgusted or disappointed with you. It’s the last thing you expect after your highly moral upbringing. She smiles, shaking her head.

“Good” she says and a smile creeps onto your lips.

“Good?!” you ask shocked.

“Smelled his cologne on you when you hugged me. I’m happy you trust me with the truth and really I’m grateful you're not in pieces” she says. You hold your shirt before remembering you showered at Rio’s using his things.

“MA!” you scoff and she chuckles.

“I’ll never encourage you to stay somewhere you aren't appreciated or treated well. James better not call me again if he doesn't want me to tear his head off. The uppity mother and father of his either.” she adds.

“Thanks mom” you smile giving her a hug and she breathes you in.

“So what's his name?” she asks and over breakfast you giggle.

“Rio?” you respond.

“Baby, not the codename like Japan” your mother laughs and you realise you haven't asked him about his name.

“Rio’s what he’s called,” you tell her honestly before detailing all the PG versions of what you know and your time with Rio. She sits happy for your outlet and his disposition with James. She warns you about Rio’s boundaries, reminding you not to fall too hard and heed what he says. You feel rejuvenated by the time she’s asleep. You sit on your bedroom balcony looking out onto the lake behind the backyard. You respond to Rio’s goodnight text and he calls riding around in his truck. He’s even more fine to you now that your mom knows the truth and approves of your marriage ending in the eyes of the law too.

“What are you smiling about?” he asks.

“Just imagining how much fun we're gonna have in Mexico” you tell him and he smiles.

“Momma gonna let you leave her?” he asks.

“Yeah, she knows about you too” you inform him.

He raises a brow. “And?”

“So far so good. She trusts me and she appreciates you for being here for me.” You tell him.

“Hey” Rio says, getting your attention. You look at him in the camera.

“Don't thank me for being here for you. That's what a mans supposed to do.” he says frankly. “Don't apologise either. I wasn’t upset with you earlier.” he says.

“Rio?” you ask.

“Hmm?” He responds sitting at a red light.

“I never asked, but what's your real name?” You say. Rio smiles as the light goes green glancing at you back on the screen to you.

“Christopher,” he says without hesitation. Smiling as you look at him. You wouldn't have guessed it. Honestly you haven't put any thought into it until your mom had asked if Rio was his real name or a codename like Japan.

“Christopher” you repeat trying to get a feel for it.

“Get some sleep Mama, i’ll call you tomorrow and text you the details for the trip. Ok?”

“Ok. Good night” you say not liking the emptiness on the line.

“Goodnight” Rio responds feeling it too. You hang up first to ease the tension. It felt like there should be more. But your mother had advised you wisely to take heed of Rio’s initial warning. Endearing terms and lovey-dovey language wouldn't serve the inevitable end that would follow whatever this was. Even if it felt like more now. Cradling your phone in your lap you take in a deep breath getting up and heading back into your room. After completing your nightly routine you check your phone before plugging it up.

Night ❤️

Ria

You smile changing his name back to Rio in your phone. You like the message before sending back one just like it and sleeping tight.

Author's note: Thanks for reading loves! How do we like Momma? How did we like Rio's name reveal? What do we think about how Rio is handling his anger? Comment some baecation activity ideas to put in the next part. Vote, Like & Reblog! Also my inbox is open with ideas. There'll be an intermission after this chapter before I start on the 2nd half of the story.

» next part

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells

#masterlist #rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x you #good girls rio #manny montana x reader #rio good girls imagine #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls fanfiction #good girls imagine #rio imagine

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midnightsnyx · 5 months ago

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beautiful things p1 - mat barzal

my masterlist pairing: mathew barzal x singer!reader summary: mathew barzal has a crush on you but you have no idea who he is until an interview goes viral. warnings: mentions of past toxic relationship, not edited word count: 612 words requested: yes/no author note: this was requested but has potential for a part 2 I think. also I hate using "y/n" but I had no choice lol requests are open!

"Mathew Barzal has a crush on you”, is the first thing you hear when you wake up.

Your head is pounding, probably from your show last night. People don’t usually bother you until you make an appearance but apparently your assistant finds it necessary to wake you.

“Who’s Mathew Barzal?” you ask but before you can finish your sentence, a phone is shoved in your face and you’re looking at a picture of a hockey player.

A very attractive hockey player.

But then, you see the time.

7:29 a.m.

You roll back over and mumble, “my alarm isn’t set until 10.”

Iris plops down next to you. You’re not able to see her, but you can feel her vibrating with excitement. “C’mon, this is Mat Barzal!”

“And?”

“And, he’s like super hot! And he likes you!”

You groan, rolling over to look at her. “How do you know he likes me?”

Once again, a phone is shoved in your face but this time there’s a video playing.

“What kind of music do you usually listen to before a game to pump you up?” A reporter asks Barzal and he blushes and scratches the back of his neck. There’s a pause before he decides on an answer.

“Uh, y/n l/n has pretty sick music out right now so I’ve been listening to her,” he says and from across the room, a voice shouts: “yeah and he has a giant crush on her!”

The video ends and your view is replaced with Iris’s face. She’s practically trembling with excitement and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sounds like you have a crush on him,” you tease and she blushes.

“My ex was an Islanders fan,” she mumbles but then shakes her head. “I can connect with his agent and get his number for you and then-"

"Iris, no," you say, finally sitting up. “I said I wasn’t dating right now. I can’t, not after him.”

You don’t need say his name for the mood to completely darken. Your last relationship nearly ruined you and you’re not ready to open your heart back up to someone when it’s just starting to heal.

Iris nods, not saying anything else. She quietly leaves your room and you flop back on your bed, closing your eyes trying to fall back asleep but it’s useless now. The last thing you want right now is a relationship but you’re a little curious about Mathew Barzal. Your hand reaches out patting around until you find your phone. It’s on do not disturb so when you turn that off, your phone is flooded with notifications. Messages from friends congratulating you on the show, a missed call from your mom - you make a side note to remember to call her back - and finally, you open Instagram and you’re tagged in every single re-post of Mat’s interview.

Buzzfeed even has an article on it.

“Huh,” you say outloud to yourself before opening your direct messages and there is one that immediately catches your eye. You hesitate before opening it however because opening it means a lot of things.

It means possibly opening your heart to someone when you feel like it’s just heal. It means the possibility of early morning coffee dates and getting food at 24 hour diners together after your shows or his games. It means long distance sometimes, when you have shows and he has games. The many, many discussions about moving in together before actually doing it. It’s slow mornings together making breakfast, lounging on the sofa when neither of you have anything to do.

It means the possibility of building something beautiful together.

So, you take the leap and open his message.

barzal97 so about that interview…

#allies writing #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine

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multiwreckedmess · 4 months ago

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Kinktober Day 24

Prompt: Toys Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x fem!reader WC: 4.2k Summary: Your ex was jealous trash. Both you and Chan know it, Chan just didn’t know the extent of it. Now he has something to prove.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Chan or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: Honestly, pretty vanilla. Pet names used include “babygirl” “princess” and “good girl”. There’s a lot of banter and checking in with consent! Vibrator is used. Chan has a big dick. Reader has femme sex organs.

“I’m sorry-WHAT?” Chan practically yelped, head coming forward and eyes bulging. �� “Guys are just like that Channie. As soon as I suggest a vib-” “No stop pause, I heard you.” He laughs and rocks back into the couch. “Like you know me, I’m insecure but that's…it’s another level.”

Your cheeks burn. He was right. The entire argument had been childish and should’ve been a red flag. “Well now I’m embarrassed…” you mutter and focus on your drink.

How had you even gotten here? How had the topic drifted so far from how are you doing to who are you doing and how are you doing them? One vague joke about Chan’s computer habits? Tonight was one of the rare nights Chan did not have his eyes glued to his Macbook, his modern day grindstone - opting to replace the mouse with a bottle of light beer (“it's what athletes drink if they are going to have alcohol”) and the small screen with human company. Your company.

The process of getting Chan to drop his work for one night was exhausting. He’d been your best friend for a couple years now, ever since meeting late night in the audio lab in college where he’d been similarly glued to the iMacs until the teaching aid kicked the two of you out. One last edit, one more pass, toggling the mute and unmute of the track feverishly asking “1 or 2” like you were at an eye exam. These were the building blocks of your relationship. It wasn’t until a particularly unseasonably warm night during spring break when you finally saw him step out into the world to eat and drink with the common folk. It was that night, drinking tallboys on the campus quad at 4am, that you’d solidified your friendship.

And still, the topic of sex was never something either of you had brought up.

There were too many other topics. Video games, anime, and of course music. Hours and hours of trading songs back and forth, studying eachother's reactions intently. watching his face light up in surprise and brow furrow into an intense scour were some of the few times you felt uninhibited joy. It was a cute habit he had, looking utterly disgusted when he was deeply into a song. Chan valued most of all your enthusiasm and positivity. Even if a song wasn’t your style, you’d highlight the aspects that you liked with vigor. Childlike exuberance, it’s what he liked most about your reactions. Sharing songs was like sharing your souls. So how had you managed to veer into this new unbroached territory? It wasn’t like you’d never joked about sex. Anyone could tell you though, joking and talking about sex are two very different things. In the process of all of your soul spilling, confessing deep seeded feelings of inescapable loneliness, pondering the crushing finality of the third death (when the world says your name for the last time), and of course the underrated pleasure of a bimbo bop, you’d never really talked about sex. Chan fucked. You assumed as much. You fucked so why wouldn’t he. Chan had even been there for the first moving out breakup you’d ever had to go through. It’s how you ended up as neighbors. The rocky road started with Chan’s offhanded joke about you being easy to please. It was a frequent flier of jokes that he’d rattle off during friendly banter. Normally an eye roller but tonight you took issue. “Tell that to my ex,” you took a swig of cider with a grimace. “...or don’t. He doesn’t need another reason to feel inadequate.” “Inadequate? Bro was like almost 190cm!” Chan laughed. “Yeah, 190cm and humbled by the suggestion of clitoral stimulation.” You said in a deadpan, staring straight forward. Chan nearly projected his beer straight out onto the coffee table in front of him. “What part of that was so funny? Clitoral?” Chan sticks out his tongue. “Not funny just…is that why you two broke up?” You swig and sigh. The details were still fresh in your memory, your last boyfriend. “No. But yes. But no. His inability to make friends with my vibrator was one of MANY issue indicating-”

The rest of the scene played in slow motion for you, his yelp, his laugh. Your cheeks burning as he shook his head back and forth, eyebrow cocked incredulously.

“I’m not like that.” Chin tilted down he looks up at you from under his eyebrows. “Aren’t I a guy?” “All the guys I know are like that, competitive. The viber- it’s, it’s competition.” “Aren’t I a guy?” He repeats again. “Aren’t I competitive?”

In the years you’ve known him, the air has never been this tense. You’ve fought but this didn’t feel like fighting. Chan continues to stare at you, waiting for your answer. You gulp.

“Yes, you are a guy. Yes, you are competitive. Happy? Pleased?”

He smirks and takes another gulp of beer and swallows hard, pretty enough to be a commercial. It made you nervous. You took another sip of cider in silence. “Sex is a team sport anyway. Gotta know your real competition.” Chan states out of nowhere with a wink. You choke on the cider halfway down your throat. Both lungs and cheeks burning you turn to him glaring, “okay Chris. Any other tips for my sex life?” Chan shrugs. Truthfully he never liked your ex. You’d wanted the two of them to get along so badly, you arranged activities for them that you thought they’d bond over and somehow each time it would end in an argument or as your ex would say “it’s just a conversation, babe. We’re having a dialogue. Man to man.” Chan hated the way your ex called you babe. He’d mocked him for weeks after your break up just to see a hint of a smile from behind the clouds of anxiety. He hated how your ex would ignore you, leaving your texts unread and unanswered all night. Most of all Chan hated your excuses for him, the list long and winding. Your patience wears thin waiting for his response and you snap, “how’s your sex life then? Prosperous I hope.”

You didn’t hope.

He takes a measured pause, another swig, and answers, “I tried like…video call sex?” He fumbles for a term he’s forgotten and is unfamiliar with. “I just kept staring at my own dick like ‘what am I doing? This is so inefficient.’ You know?” You can’t help but laugh, “unfortunately I do.” A very Chan thought, weighing the efficiencies of phone sex. “See that’s why tools in the bedroom are friends. Efficiency.” Chan stumbles, visibly seesawing between curiosity and decorum. “So he really never got you off?” “No. yeah. No.” You look anywhere else. “It’s why i prefer…efficiency.” The word efficiency slips from your lips heavily, laden with new meaning. Both of you pause and take swigs of your respective drinks. “Bet I could,” Chan says easily, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Sure,” you shrug back.

At first the words don’t register, what you’ve bet exactly doesn’t hit you. “Okay, so bedroom?” He stands up, placing the empty bottle on your table. He’s so matter of fact it doesn’t hit you. “Bedroom?” You look up at him quizzically. “Or anywhere, if you have something specific in mind.” You tilt your head and squint your eyes further. Chan mimics you, eyes twinkling with glee. “You’ll want towels regardless.”

Oh.

OH.

He bet he could make you cum. Butterflies fill your stomach.

“Chris, you don’t have to- listen no one has really been able to as well as me myself and my trusty vibrator Even then, no towels necessary just wham bam thank you ma’am.” Your tongue and mind are in two different places, mouth working to dissuade him and brain screaming in need. The mischievous expression from his eyes migrates to his lips, “is that a yes?”

“Chan, it's a losing game. I’ve been doing this for-”

“Where’s your spirit of competition?” he laughs and braces himself. “It’s a friendly wager. Worst thing that happens is you don’t cum and I buy you something top shelf.” Your hesitation is visibly killing him, as much as he tries to stay cool, calm, and collected. His leg jostles with anxiety. “It really sounds like a win win for you. Unless you don’t-” “You won’t let this change our friendship right? You can do it and not let that happen?” You purse your lips and exhale, “...promise-”

Chan launches himself at you like an over excited puppy, “yes anything, whatever you want!”

Much like you, your bedroom is not exactly ready for this turn to the night. Chan leans on the doorway as you hastily shove the dirty clothes spilling over the edge of your hamper back under the lid. Your night stand is cluttered with skincare and two vibrators charging in the conspicuously cracked open drawer.

“Don’t say SHIT Chan, “ you whip around, still hunched over with clothes in your fists. “I didn’t think I’d have anyone in here for a while.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a sigh, you can tell he wants to make a joke and is barely holding it in him. Instead he sits on the edge of your queen sized bed, watching you toss clothes from the top of your dresser into the basket and closet according to their relative states of wear. “This won’t count against my time, right?” He tries to joke, you narrow your eyes. “Sheesh. Just get on the bed, okay? You won’t cum if you’re too stressed.” “You’re not going to be able to ANYWAY Chan,” you continue to attempt to neaten your room. “Yeah if you keep cleaning, yeah, I won't. Now get comfy on the bed please!” Chan enthusiastically smacks the mattress. You cock your eyebrow, “make me.” Chan sighs, it’s a simple pair of words, “make me”, and yet they burrow into him. He nods his head and approaches you putting your hips on his shoulder and hoisting you over his back, smacking your ass before setting you down on the bed. “You done being a brat?” You look a little dazed but you stick your tongue out at him. He sighs and goes to your bedside table, grabbing your vibrating wand left charging half out of the drawer. “Chan. CHAN. CHRISTOPHER. That’s CHEATING.” You let him guide your legs outwards, knees pointed up. “Wahhh, it’s been a second since you used my full christian name. ‘S’not cheating, it’s a partnership.” You wail for comic effect. He smiles a small, crooked half smile, “so, you normally get off with all your clothes on?”

“Well, actually, yes?” You shrug, “it’s not much mess anyway so…” “I was hoping to see your pretty cunt but we can start here,” he says, settling into the space between your thighs. Your stomach swooping again. He’d said cunt in front of you before, many times, it wasn’t a shocking word between you. Yet the addition of your…the familiar click of the vibrator interrupts the train of thought. “I’ll admit its easier when i can see the damn thing but-” It doesn’t take much to have your hips winding. Maybe it's the familiar tool being held in an unexpected hand but the vibration feels more intense the second it sits on your mound. You barely manage to catch a burgeoning moan in your chest. Chan scoots closer on the bed, deepening the pressure on your wand. “Can I touch you?” His voice is hoarse. “Over. Yes.” He nods as he leans over you, a strong hand pushing the edge of your bra down in your shirt, letting just the obviously hardened bud slip free. The rough callous of his thumb catches on the cotton threads of your shirt as he rubs over the tender bump. For you, most of the time you just used your vibrator without thinking too much about anything else. Getting off was no frills, all business. Letting him fondle you even over your clothes like horny teens elevated the entire experience. “Howzzat feel?” He grins smugly as you bite the inside of your lower lip. Your eyes flick backwards for a second, momentarily losing the veneer of respectability you clung to so desperately. “I want you to tell me. I need you to tell me.” You collect yourself as much as you can. “Feels real good, okay Chris? Real fucking good.” “What’s your fastest time?” Chan starts pressing the vibrator harder against you before pulling back. It’s a subtle increase and decrease in pressure but enough to get your toes twitching. “God-fuck-Chris- I don’t fucking- I don’t know.” Your breathing staggers. This cocky bastard is really going to make you cum that easily. Shoulder blades drawing down, back arching away from the bed, your vision swims for a second before you calm yourself by sheer force of will. “So stubborn, babygirl!” He cackles. “You don’t wanna let me win this? It’ll feel so good if you just let yourself go. Either way you win, it’s a win-win. Just cum, it’ll feel so good. I promise.” The spring winds again, the promise of pleasure at the other end of the snap. Your chest rises, he gives a small pinch to your taut nipple. A frankly embarrassingly needy whine hums in your nose. “God I wanna be in you so bad right now.” Chan’s earnest confession sends you over the edge. Your legs go numb as your eyeballs roll back in your skull, defense crashing down as the stretched spring snaps back. Wall clenching around nothing you can feel wetness bloom in your underwear. “Sssshhit,” you hiss, twitching with aftershocks as you try to catch your breath. You try to hide how your stomach tenses with every exhale. “I was better, right?” He’s smug, you can hear it in the sing-song lilt of his voice. It’s difficult to face him fully with your post orgasm clarity beginning to hit. Peaking through one half cracked eyelid, he’s sitting back on his heels, bulge prominent in his pants. Even with your limited vision it’s hard to miss the throbbing mass. “Different.” Your protracted answer betrays you, unable to trust yourself to keep your tone even and calm. The bed shifts below you. Chan is so close, leaning over you, a whisper away. Mouth just to the side of yours, hovering, just within the turn of your head. “Wanna bet? I bet you’re fucking soaked right now.” Kiss me. Touch me. Kiss now. Touch me please. Kiss, touch, fuck, kiss, kiss, kiss, kisskisskisskiss. Your brain is chanting out of your skull, body heating up from the microscopic excited vibrations you’re trying your best to hold deep in your core. “Ha,” you more bleat than laugh. Very uncool. Wheezy airy wanting air escaping from your lungs rather than the even keel chuckle of someone who totally didn’t want to their best friend to fuck their brains out. Chan’s hand, long having dropped the vibrator, grazes your waistband. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to. But I bet you don’t want me to.” Your breath hitches as they catch and slide over the slick fabric of your underwear. His fingers are more precise than the wand and the already sensitive area is swollen. The sticky remnants of your orgasm cling as he too casually runs a finger along your slit. You hold your breath and curl your toes. “Do you want me to?” Chan smirks down at you. You shake your head no. “Is that a ‘no, keep going’ or a ‘no, please stop?’” Deep breath in. “Keep going.” He smiles, increasing the pressure he’s using to rub your clit with. “Good girl,” he whispers, chest practically touching yours. You can feel the corners of his mouth twitch upwards as you try to hide your gasp of delight. Laughing, he kisses your cheek. “I knew you’d have a praise kink.” “You’re so fucking cocky.” Chan shuffles himself off of you. “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” he shrugs before tugging your pants down over your hips.. “Now babygirl, show me that cute cunt of yours.” Chan is stupidly strong as he yanks your legs free. The slight rise and fall of your chests less from strain and more from anticipation. Something neither of you had really dared to entertain falling so easily into place. “Let me see yours first,” you blurt as heat flashes through you. Brow knitting and shaking his head in confusion, Chan shrugs, “fair enough.” You’re going to see it. After all these years you’re going to finally see his dick. It’ll be right there, confronting you. You think about all the things you know about your best friend, the blue veins that peak up his vline, his big feet, the foreboding lump in his pants. He’s not a tall guy but that doesn’t mean much in your estimation of him. Black jeans, black underwear hugging his thighs. You take a deep breath, blinking, turning more and more into squeezing your eyes shut. “Take off your shirt.” Your voice sounds pinched and you’re barely peeking out from between your eyelashes. Chan isn’t one to flinch at the request, shucking his top in a flash. “I thought you wanted me to go first.” “I do! I do. I just can’t help but think that everything is going to change after this. Like, we can’t go back from this. And I get scared.” “I’ll still love you regardless. And if you wanna stop or nah-” “You’re such a sentimental bastard. Take your cock out, I’m ready.” He laughs, eyebrows rocketing towards his hairline, a bemused grin creeping slowly into the corners of his mouth. Thumbs hooked on the waistband of his underwear he pulls it down agonizingly slowly, eyes locked on your face. The way your face shifts between excitement and dread is endearing. Truthfully he wanted to prolong the anticipation just to watch you squirm for him, the butterflies invading your gut and making themselves known adorably. The band crosses over his pubic bone to territory you’d yet seen, neatly trimmed dark hair surrounding the base of his cock. You let out a tiny involuntary yelp. Neatly trimmed. Thick. Without all of it being revealed you can already tell its hefty. Veins throb, crossing over the pulsing muscle. A challenge for sure. The shear weighty bounce of it as the enormity of it is revealed is daunting, enough to make any person feel virginal again. “I’m confident in what I’m confident in,” Chan repeats, languidly fisting his cock to full mast. It’s too heavy to sit all the way up, instead jutting out from him into the open air. “Now do you want me to fuck you with your underwear on or-” pausing for you to interject before he pulls your hips up onto his thighs. A thousand butterflies burst into flames in your chest watching him kiss your knees as he removes your panties. “Why are you being so tender with me oh my god!” Flames tickle the sides of your face as you giggle, flustered. “‘Cuz this is going to sting a bit.”

Oh fuck is that the understatement of the century. You can feel it from the way he rubs the blunt spongy tip of his cock along your folds. From the briefest of catches on your entrance you stiffen below him. Suddenly you’re less nervous about what he thinks of your pussy and more that he’ll not be able to fit. Lodging himself there at the precipice of heaven, he leans back over, resting himself on his forearms to keep himself from completely covering you.

“It’ll fit, right?” You ask with a hopeful sniff.

“Oh babe, I can make it fit, don’t worry about that. Just let me take care of it.” Chan angles his hips and lets his shaft glide over your slit. It’s a bundle of muscle you can’t resist grinding against. His forehead rests against your shoulder, his breath soaking into your shirt as he occasionally presses a chaste kiss to your neck.

Your breasts practically ache for his touch, having felt it muted through the fabric of that same stupid shirt. With an annoyed grunt you struggle to strip it off at first, caged underneath Chan. Its not until he snakes an arm beneath you and lifts your torso that you free yourself of the barrier. Almost as impressive as his feat of strength is the dexterity with which he unclasps your bra. A pang of jealousy echos in your chest, he’s had practice. As if it should really matter to you, if anything it’s only prepared him for this moment.

His lips are soft against your skin. Every kiss is a small promise of pleasure and harbinger of anticipation as they draw closer and closer to your hardened nipples. “Please, please, please,” you chant in barely a whisper as your back arches to meet him.

“You want this, right?” He feigns innocence as his lips wrap around you, sucking for a second. Your hips buck upwards into Chan’s resistance, grinding harder with a groan of relief. A strand of saliva bridges the gap between your breast and his grin. His hips encourage your redoubled efforts as he goes in for another nibble, teeth just barely tickling over your sensitive area.

Holding tight to his back you try to keep him close as you feel that same growing devouring pit of hungry need consuming your gut. “Don’t stop, please, I’m so fucking close.” It’s not so much dry humping anymore as your sex slides over him, pressure placed perfectly over your clit. “I’ll fucking kill you.” You add for good measure.

His tongue flicks over your nub, hand finally joining to pinch and kneed the other. Chan keeps his hips as steady as he can as you grow erratic, breathlessly using him to get yourself off again. All a part of his plan.

When you cum you sink your nails into his flesh, the muscles of his back valiant against them. The pit doesn’t go away, instead a ravenous beast wakes to fill the void. “I need it. I need you right now.” You reach down between your thighs to wedge him against your entrance again. “Chris please, please.” It’s difficult to bring yourself to say it, even now nearly blacking out with lust. “God please make it fit.”

Grabbing a pillow to pull your hips up on, Chan starts to nudge forward into you. “You’re doing so well,” he murmurs. Slowly your walls open to him, pulling him in as the fat tip of his cock breaches the tight ring of muscle. The extra lubrication of your release helps but the stretch itself has you breathing hard into your diaphragm.

“Chris-Chris- oh fuck- CHAN,” you scramble to hold him tighter as he pulls you apart. Your arms wrap over his shoulders, clinging to your own elbows as you squeeze.

“You’re almost there, my good girl. Best girl.”

“Almost?!” You yelp incredulously. “I’m so fucking full! What the fuck. What the fuck.”

“I can stop-”

You howl with lust filled rage. “Just shove it in oh my god Chris. Just fuck me. Please god I’m going to die.”

Your arms bounce as he chuckles at your overdramatics “Your wish is my command, Princess.” Hands holding your hips steady his hips snap against you easily, fullying burying himself. A mighty gasp caves your abdomen, barely whispering curses as you get exactly what you’d asked for. “Hurts right?” He asks sweetly, kissing your cheek. “Let me help.”

A telltale click.

Whirring.

With the white head of the vibrator placed over your clit the pain vanishes immediately. You blink furiously as the thud of your heartbeat sinks into your cunt. In all your years it hadn’t occurred to you to try this. Penetration wasn’t a necessary part of getting off so why would you? “Oh my god.” Chan smirks. Your hips move of their own accord, rolling just enough to push and pull him against your walls. “Oh my god it feels so good.” “Yeah you do babygirl.” Your walls clench around him as your head is thrown back in delicious pleasure. Chan indulges in the easily accessible skin of your chest, kissing slowly between your breasts as he helps bounce you on his cock. Orgasms roll easily into each other like a pleasant summer breeze warmly surrounding your skin and blending into the universe. It’s hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. Your bodies fit together with ease now, coated in a sheen of comingled fluids. For a moment you feel complete, your mind dulled enough to keep the buzz of thoughts finally silent, relinquishing yourself to waves of pleasure. Chan smiles, looking at your transformed face, slack jawed in open mouthed bliss. A breath kicks your stomach in as you cum on him again, walls squeezing him desperately. “I’m going to-” he chokes on his words as he fights his own finish. “Wh-” Chan can’t even get the word out before you’re clinging to him again, rutting and fucking him into you. Weaving your fingers up through the hair on the back of his head you tug lightly. The buzz of pain jolts his hips deeply into you, painting your walls deeply with his release. A strangled raspy “shit,” passes his lips before they catch themselves on yours. His cock pulses with refractory releases, your cunt squeezing back in a sympathetic response. Neither of you want to admit you’d really fucked up the friendship.

Sorry the formatting got weird and i’m posting late but uh my other group is having a cb and i’m getting anon hate on main so here we are.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #bangchan smut #stray kids chan smut #skz chan smut #kpop smut #kpop kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #stray kids kinktober #skz kinktober

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afterglowsainz · 4 months ago

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dancing with our hands tied pt. 2 | pablo gavi

part 1

summary: after pablo’s plans to get back with your friend failed, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur

fc: jenna ortega

a/n: happy halloween! 👻 (i was actually giggling and kicking my feet while writing this)

—

liked by pablogavi, _ferminelopez and others

yourusername new happy place unlocked 🦌

view all comments

username can she be any cuter 😭

username actually loving y/n going to all the possible places in barcelona

username my girl really said imma explore the city!

pablogavi crazy how all the animals are your twins

yourusername oh look at him he’s got jokes!

username crazy how they are always together even tho he dated her best friend!

username i knew i couldn’t be the only one who thought that was weird

username no and look at gavi’s stories she went to the zoo with him 😭

pablogavi’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 💙] [caption 2: 🦒]

liked by hctorforrt_, joaofelix79 and others

yourusername halloween is very much our day 🎃🩸

tagged pablogavi and bffusername

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username INSANE CROSSOVER

username i’m so normal about this i swear

username no but gavi as ghost face ??? uhm ….

username she looks beautiful 😍

username already my inspo for next year

bffusername sexiest pirate out there 😉 (liked by yourusername)

username feeling feelings having thoughts

pablogavi oh we look good

yourusername covered in blood? 😭

pablogavi why not 🤷🏻‍♂️

liked by yourusername, _rl9 and others

pablogavi what’s your favorite scary movie?

tagged yourusername

view all comments

username this costume changed the trajectory of my life

username not gavi posting a photo dump with a bunch of people and only tagging y/n 😭😭

username so … i might’ve learned something about myself today

username him and y/n posting the same picture on their photo dumps ohhh the delusion hasn’t been this high

username no but is a bit crazy to see him with his ex and y/n which i’m assuming is like his friend now???

username do we think he got back with his ex?

username i would say yes but him only tagging y/n in the post and considering they have been going out to every place in barcelona 24/7 these last few days i would say … maybe not

yourusername can’t believe it took you 3 hours to think about that caption

pablogavi i’m 2 seconds away from blocking you

username ‼️‼️‼️‼️

username if this is not them flirting istg

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: 🖼] [caption 2:📍Picasso Museum]

liked by yourusername, bffusername and others

pablogavi win at home❤️

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username EXCUSE ME !!!!

username okay sir i was not familiar with your game

username you’re telling me he managed to pull baddie y/n ??? how the fuckkk

username not his best friend’s ex 🤮🤮

username his ex liked the post and she seems to still be friends with y/n so go hate somewhere else

bffusername cuties 🥺💖 (liked by pablogavi)

username did not expect this couple AT ALL

username not opposed to it though

username ohhh and the win is actually y/n 😮‍💨

yourusername visca el barça ❤️💙

pablogavi and you ❤️

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astraystayyh · 1 year ago

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₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ winter falls

I'm so excited to announce this collab series with my @forlix where we'll be posting winter themed fics for each one of the boys!!!!! brainstorming these with xi was the most fun ever i hope you'll enjoy our collab (alternatively named dead dick december)

all the fics, except for Chan's, Minho’s and Han's are with a gender neutral reader.

minors & ageless blogs dni w/han’s fic as it is nsfw!

no holiday is specified by name so you can imagine whatever!

we're also opening a special taglist for the series! you can comment down here or send an ask to either me or xian to be added! (6/8 posted)

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Pieces of you ❆ bang chan @astraystayyh (8.7k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ single dad!chan. neighbors!au. fluff. angst. slow burn. [posted: 12/02/24]

In which you and chan are each other's missing pieces. Alternatively, Chan and his daughter come knocking at your apartment asking for flour, and he's no longer embarrassed when you open the door.

Something has melted ❆ lee minho @forlix

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ spy x family!au, fake dating!au, fluff

Your obnoxious coworkers never get off your ass about how single you are, and your temporary husband is too happy to make them eat their words.

Burning in the winter wind ❆ changbin @astraystayyh (4.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort. college!au. [posted: 26/02/24.]

Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

The snow falls, we fall apart ❆ hyunjin @astraystayyh (13k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ roommates to lovers. angst. hurt/comfort. slow burn. longing.

when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

(+18) Empty my mind ❆ han jisung @forlix (6.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. [posted: 06/01/24]

For the first time in a long time, Han Jisung has something to lose.

Everything has changed (besides myself) ❆ lee felix @forlix (5.4k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual fluff. [posted: 09/12/2023]

You spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

Warm winter ❆ kim seungmin @forlix

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff

“i don’t deserve you,” he breathes, “but god, i want to.”

Please fall before I fall ❆ jeongin @astraystayyh (2.8k)

☃︎⋆꙳•❅ childhood best friends to lovers. hint of unrequited love (they're idiots) [posted: 18/01/24]

3 times you saved jeongin's ass and the 1 time he saved yours. (and ended up confessing along the way)

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

...titles are all inspired by han's incredible songwriting in Winter Falls, han write a happy song #challengefailed.

#stray kids x reader #skz x you #stray kids x you #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic

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gohyuck · 4 months ago

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you&i

image from user themightyjen on twitter

pairing: jeno x reader and they are exes but they get back together sort of (i mistakenly used a previous work of mine’s earlier pairing when i first posted this!)

genre: angst, fluff

word count: right under 1.5k, this was a quickwrite

notes: liam payne died so i started listening to one direction again and you & i just had me Thinking long and hard... also f1 mentions lol

It is a bizarre cliché, really, and you wish you could laugh at Jeno’s outstretched hand as he wordlessly begs you to follow him out onto the fire escape. Your building is not at all up to code, and you have to force yourself through one hardly-cracked open window to make it out to where he is, having climbed up from the outside. In a completely unsurprising move, he has an overloose black leather jacket on, though it doesn’t stay that way for long — he ignores you ignoring the hand he’d put out to help you through the window and instead puts it to use shirking the leather off and throwing it over his shoulder like some two-bit greaser.

He dangles a Corona bottle — yeuch — from his other hand, and he treats it quite gingerly. Jeno’s projecting his feelings onto the delicate glass, because of course he is. He’s a shrink’s wet dream. Not too troubled, not too troubling, but still itching to hurt and be hurt. You expect that Jeno’s “fixable,” but neither you nor him expect you to be the one to go about doing any fixing.

“Want some?” He anticipates that you’ll shake your head, can visualize the peach moscato in your fridge door at this very moment, practically tastes how too-sweet it is. You so badly want to grab the bottle from his hand and take a swig of what really is dry bready water just to spite him, but you can’t justify the assault on your taste buds.

You shake your head, already dreaming of the peach moscato in your fridge door. That’ll be a treat after this whole thing. You, of course, are pushing your emotions away — your psychiatrist will love and hate the debrief that’s coming to her within the next 24 hours.

“We’re like day and night.” You want to expand on your thought, but it seems impossible to verbalize beyond this vague utterance. Fuck your life. Jeno nods, bites down on a corner of his mouth before taking the kind of swig you’d briefly daydreamed of. When he puts his other hand down right by yours, your breath catches on impulse, but only for a second.

“They bleed into each other sometimes.” He tells you this as if you’ve never experienced the sunset. You wish you could laugh at him, but that would be cruel, unusual, and untrue. Jeno, for all his pompous exterior, is the day in this make-believe situation. Of course, the two of you are more similar than you are different. Of course, if one of you actually acknowledges this fact, the other will refute it. Maybe you’re projecting now. His leather jacket and building climbing and Corona drinking self is such a caricature that he circles back to being unequivocally real to you. Unequivocally yours.

“They’re broken up in the same way we’re broken up.” You try your resolve.

“Are we broken up?”

“We could probably make it if we try.” You fold a corner of your lower lip into your mouth, tucking it gently between the harsh rows of your teeth. This is a tell, though of what, you remain unsure. Jeno thinks you’re being honest when you say this, but there’s something inherently duplicitous to even having thought it. Do you mean ‘making it’ as in ‘making it as a pair of exes’ or in some other more ephemeral way? He tries his luck.

“Do you think they ever fight like us?”

The reason for your most recent break up is, of course, some fight over something that must have been extremely important to both of you in completely separate ways, but neither of you can genuinely recollect the entire experience. For one, he’d been high, and you’d been drunk. Neither of your problems are too far gone to kick, but everyone relies on something or the other to get them through particularly rough weeks. It was rare that your vice intersected with his; it was rare either got out of hand.

And yet. A joint may be the only thing conspicuously missing from him at this very moment, actually, but you don’t doubt that he has rolling papers in his back left pocket even now as he leans his ass against your building’s run-down brick walls.

“The day and the night? I think they can’t stand each other.” You reach for his beer, and he gives it up with ease. He’s nothing if not giving. Your chest hurts, there’s a reason you don’t smoke. Jeno reaches around and puts his jacket over your shoulders as you take the tiniest of sips, and you settle into it like you’d slip into conversation with an old friend. Jeno’s pinky finger extends, and you feel the dull coolness of his faux silver ring press almost imperceptibly at the bottom of your own fifth finger’s second knuckle.

He pulls a pack of Golds from his back pocket — you’d been wrong about the weed stuff, it seems — and you pull a cigarette out when he flips it open. Jeno’s eyebrows pull together, but every feature of his drops simultaneously when you simply turn it upside down and put it back in. The designated final smoke, for good luck. Your ex — ex? — pulls it together quickly enough, and you do him the service of pretending.

“You can’t stand me?”

The defiance mingled with disbelief, confusion, genuine apprehension all come together into the kind of cocktail that can only break your heart. Jeno hasn’t even fished out a cigarette yet, his brilliantly red lighter undoubtedly still in his jacket. He really wants a straight answer from you.

“Two Ferrari wins in a row, in the double header,” You just say, every other word tamped down on by an impenetrable force. “I still haven’t canceled my F1 TV subscription.”

“You’re really into it, no matter what you say.” He’s certainly right, but you refuse to let him know just how often Forza Ferrari Siempre really comes into play for you. Jeno, with his head in your lap as you take a swig of absolutely horrendous Big Red from a mug he’d made on a pottery date (“it’s good luck” your ass). Jeno, pacing around his dining table while he mutters about how Charles Leclerc suffers more than Jesus. Jeno, pulling you into his arms after you give him a Ferrari-red lighter on a whim.

“I just like watching car crashes.”

“I still have the lighter you gave me.”

Both of you speak at once, stunned immediately into confused silence. A sob gets caught in your throat early enough to where it becomes a snicker, and Jeno sniffles into a snort of laughter, and suddenly you’re face-first in his chest and he’s giggling into your hair. He says something about being incapable of remembering what your fight was about, and you whisper that you know he’s smoking cigarettes so he stays off of weed and off of paranoia. You appreciate him.

“We could switch vices,” He gestures towards the beer that’s in your hand. “Ever think about lighting up?”

“I’d rather die.” Your eyes turn up with the corners of your lips.

“We could make it if we tried.” Jeno shrugs, and his hand finally settles onto yours, a weight you’d sorely missed. Stupid, stupid argument with very real implications.

“You and I?

“I can more than stand you, if that’s what you’re asking.” His tone of voice is jovial but his gaze is steady. His implicit question hangs in the air, the begging of reciprocity only unbecoming if verbalized. You turn your hand over under his and lace your fingers together, jagged and messy.

“With all this teen angst in our twenties, we should probably start sitting down instead.” Jeno isn’t going to get too far through your general sense of levity, but he knows that you’ll murmur apologies and promises to him later tonight. You’ll make good this time, and so will he.

“I’ll pour out your moscato if you put on the highlights from last week’s race.” He tilts his head towards your open window, and you set the Corona down at your feet, knowing full and well that neither of you are finishing that now. He’s made some amends though — you’ll work on the cigarette smoking, but at least it doesn’t affect how he treats you — and you recognize that you need to do the same. Jeno is sound to your silence.

“Pour it into the sink, if you can.”

Your boyfriend seems stunned, comically so as he pauses to look back at you while only halfway into your apartment. You follow up with some rib about how you still have Big Red in your fridge, stifling a laugh at his own wince, but his overarching surprise reigns supreme. He doesn’t even have to ask if you’re sure — his eyebrows do it for him. You nod, knowing all kinds of questions deserve answers.

“We can make it if we try.”

#jeno #jeno nct #nct dream #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno scenario #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct scenario #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream scenario #jeno x reader #nct x reader

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namism · 2 months ago

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take me back | hange zoë

➳ categories: modern au, ex hange, female reader, angst

➳ word count: 11.7k

➳ summary: Hange Zoë realized that they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship.

➳ notes: for everyone's reference, nifa, abel, and keiji are members of the fourth squad (hange's squad) and this fic was lowkey inspired by the lyrics of "kiss me better" by rihanna (don't ask lmfao it's so random). also, if you'd like, please read this on ao3 instead as i worked my butt off coding (yes, i coded instead of using screenshots) your DM's with hange. the version on tumblr is just a bunch of words, so the ao3 version is worth the read! you can find the link below :)

➳ cross-posted on ao3

ONE.

Five seconds before Hange ended your relationship, they noticed their hand clench tightly into a fist.

Three seconds later, they relaxed their hand before sucking in a deep breath and saying the three words you had always dreaded.

"Let's break up."

After three minutes of constant denial, you finally sucked up to your lover's—ex-lover's—decision and promptly stormed out of your apartment. It wasn't until the next morning did you come back to the shared space to pack your things and leave, not even daring to look at Hange's direction as you stowed away items into numerous moving boxes.

Hange remembers telling themselves to behave before you visited the apartment one last time. Knowing themselves, they would have said something stupid with the intention of taking back their words to get you back. Just before you strutted into the living room, Hange talked themselves through their crazy ideas in the mirror, eventually deciding to withdraw to the confines of their study in fear of interfering with your purposeful packing and making matters worse.

Hange got the signal from your tabby cat that you were out the door when it started making noise at the entryway. Its nonstop meowing was the go-signal for Hange to emerge from their study to find the apartment completely dulled down as it lacked the color that once filled the room.

It wasn't until near midnight that they decided to get something to eat after more than 24 hours of not having had a proper meal. With the intention of snacking a bit before hopping back on call with Levi and Erwin (their current emotional support duo who were surprisingly amazing at providing comfort), Hange walked over to the fridge to grab something to eat. When they opened the refrigerator, however, a green sticky note posted on the door caught their attention.

Adjusting their crooked glasses, Hange read the writing aloud.

"Cat food in drawer. Ask Nanaba for feeding schedule. Molecular kits to be sent this week. Nori hidden in pantry. Check all sockets. Check stove. Prepped food in fridge..."

It was at that moment Hange knew how badly they messed up. Written telegraphically, you had fit as many words as you could in the little sticky note to list all the essentials that only you would know how to do around the flat and the ones that Hange easily forgot to do. As another wave of sadness washed over them, Hange bitterly ransacked the fridge for an apple and a bottle of beer with decent alcohol content, then retreated to their study where Levi and Erwin chastised them over the screen for doing dumb and dumber things.

That essentially sums Hange's first 72 hours after breaking your heart into a million pieces. As a research scientist who's been confined at the lab for the past 15 years, those were by far the most uneventful 72 hours of their life. Hange found themselves weeping, drinking beer, ranting to Erwin and a less interested Levi, and sleeping for a maximum of two hours before doing it all over again in a never-ending cycle. It momentarily stopped when they had to work first thing the following Monday, but they relapsed quickly once they arrived home.

Hange couldn't remember the last time they drank that much beer. Their diet got worse as time passed, and thankfully Levi seemed to notice as he had come to their rescue the following evening by giving—drugging?—Hange with a sufficient dosage of melatonin in the black tea he offered. Much to Levi's surprise, Hange was down in 20 minutes without noticing a damn thing. They woke up the next morning, feeling lighter and well-rested.

Unbeknownst to them, Levi continued the routine with an appropriate concentration of melatonin until Hange was stable enough to be told the truth. They weren't bothered by the idea and were frankly more grateful than surprised. Over time, Erwin would swing by to share a cup (minus the dosage) only to leave the apartment with Levi after tucking Hange neatly in bed. Hange would wake up, feel energetically amazing despite the inevitable emptiness in their heart, and go to work.

TWO.

If you told Hange Zoë four years ago that there would come a time in which they would do something as dumb as breaking up with the only woman they were ever attracted to, you would have been called insane.

To be clear, Hange was never big on physical attraction. They were attracted to the weirdest, nerdiest, most mystifying things in the world, but attraction to humans? Certainly not. Hange Zoë, PhD (aged 27 and a certified organic chemist who had made at least a hundred drug-dealing jokes in the past eight years of studying), couldn't concern themselves with romance when it never crossed their mind to begin with. The only types of attraction they ever concerned themselves with were intermolecular forces (which they very much enjoyed learning in sixth grade chemistry) until they met you.

You were the perfect woman. Of that, they were certain. You began as friends in Hange's final year in university for their Bachelor's degree, but your friendship continued until Hange was halfway through their Master's. At that point, Hange felt as though your relationship was pretty solid given how often you spoke and saw each other outside campus. Before they knew it, they found themselves falling for you, their thoughts being muddled by images of your sweet face during the most random times of the day. Hange was wrapped around your finger and they couldn't get themselves to stop.

A month after that realization, Hange decided to ask you out in their own fashion—casually, but enthusiastic. You began dating some time after that and your relationship had been going strong ever since.

Now, after calling off the relationship with four years of dating and no rocky bumps on the road, Hange does, indeed, feel like an idiot. An imbecile. A dumbass, even. Blockhead. Nitwit. Stupid twit. A cretin. Hange could open the Cambridge Thesaurus and list out the synonyms for "idiot" because that's exactly what they are and there is no way of redeeming them from it.

"I just wished you would make the effort to spend time with me!" you exclaimed, eyebrows knitting in sorrow rather than anger, like Hange expected. "You can't even help me clean because you're so busy at your job, like— like I don't even exist sometimes to you."

Hange understands that it's their fault, but they cringe every time they recall the argument that led to the ultimatum. It started on the wrong foot. Looking back at it now, they suppose it was a chain of misunderstandings, one piling onto the other, until the tension finally snapped and dragged both of you into a full-blown argument.

"When the hell did I ever make you feel that way?!" they barked back, eyes wide and irises firm. They looked at you, waiting for an answer. "See?! You can't even answer me! Ridiculous!"

"I'm just— I'm just disappointed, okay?! Fuck, I don't know..." Head falling to your palms, you wiped your face in a stressed motion. "You never, and I mean this, you never—not once in our relationship—ever misunderstood me, so what's gotten into you? Aren't you're so clever, huh?! High IQ, high EQ?"

"Oh, please, in what world would I forget that my girlfriend exists?!" they yelled. You flinched at their tone. "I don't ghost you, I don't ignore you— I come home late, but damn, you don't know the guilt that eats me up every night because the only times I see you are when I go to bed and leave for work—"

"And who's at fault for your guilt but you?!" you retorted. "Hange, you"—you shoved a finger to their chest—"you're the one who can't take care of yourself because you're so invested in everything but your life at home! We haven't gone out in three months, like— like don't you think that's strange? Everyone is getting married, having kids, fuck, even my juniors are on their third night out of the week, yet you can't even take care of yourself unless I do it for you!"

The truth is, being obsessed with your job and anything that has to do with it is also detrimental to everyone who loves you. It never crossed Hange's mind because they haven't had this much on their plate since you started dating. There was always some time allotted for you at the end of the day, but things started to change lately.

On top of their regular job at the lab, Hange has four other things to do: tutor high schoolers for their admissions tests, teach as a part-time lab instructor at a private university, be a loving partner to their girlfriend, and be an equally loving parent to their adopted cat. Life hadn't always been like this, but they found themselves taking up more responsibilities over time until it was physically impossible to rest on most days. They couldn't even enjoy their weekends, for goodness' sake (because the high schoolers would always come knocking in their emails with more questions)—but if they were to take a break, they would return a day later to even more work.

Hange is simply not the type of person to live a peaceful life. Their peace is chaos; it doesn't help their mood when they aren't working on anything that stresses them out. Perhaps that's just the person they are. It should be okay to be this way, to always be in constant motion as long as the heart is followed and their happiness is fulfilled, but it isn't because they're risking so much of your relationship the more they work, work, and work.

You've always been supportive, but even your unconditional support can't realistically understand their position. Or that's what Hange thinks. They assume as such because your lifestyle is much freer than theirs. You have more time to yourself despite your regular 9-to-5 job. You don't have responsibilities outside of it and your personal life at home. Because of it, you decided to handle the work at the flat; Hange never had time for it anyway, much to their dismay. They had always wanted to help, but their schedule just never allowed it.

After a while, the chores automatically became your responsibility and never theirs. You had no problem with this. Hell, you even enjoyed it—you bonded with Hange's friend Levi over being clean freaks together as you always hated seeing mess. Although the duty of cleaning and keeping everything in check (including Hange and their health) soon became an irksome chore rather than something you enjoyed for the fun of it. The less Hange spent time with you, the more it annoyed you. You felt used, like some sort of maid. It was not a problem when you volunteered in a compassionate understanding of Hange's circumstances, but the least they could do was to make up for it by arriving home early or spending even a moment of intimacy.

But no, they had been so busy about other things that they couldn't provide the time. You hadn't gone out in almost three months to grab something to eat or go somewhere fun like you used to. You would take each other out to places you've never been to before regardless of how low-budget it was. You would have been happy with a simple late night trip to a fast food chain if it meant having your partner to yourself after months of no quality time, but such a trip just never came to be.

Witnessing Hange have a destructive breakdown whenever they came home exhausted was an even bigger problem. They never cried, but they were always so close to it. You would hear their frustration at one o'clock in the morning or through your heavy eyelids after being awoken by their wailing. When it got mentally tough, you would offer to stay up with them for comfort, but you were always sent back to bed or, worse, shut out from their study, where they isolated themselves.

They were awfully good at taking care of anything and anyone but themselves, so you felt the need to do it for them. And overall, the cause of your separation was a problem built on top of another. It was why you were so agitated when Hange could barely spend time with you, but your intentions came out wrong. You had explained all of this to them as you argued, yet they misunderstood your concerns as an insult to their work and commitment to your relationship.

Hange rolled their eyes as you cried. They were tired and had no time for this. They were running late for class and figured it would be cancelled at the last second because of your argument.

"Okay, let's get this over with—"

"You're mean. You're so mean, Hange." You slapped their hand away when they tried to touch you. Hange's face turned sour at your reaction. You were still crying.

"Please, can we just stop this?" they asked, voice sounding impatient. You glared at them with all your anger, but your gaze softened when Hange returned a look, weariness written across their face.

"I would never, ever, do this to you if I lived your life," you said softly. Hange remained silent. "I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

You were right. Even with your freer schedule, you kept yourself busy with maintaining things at home that it technically felt like a second job. It didn't help your feelings when Hange was oblivious to the work and effort you did. When they cried to Erwin and Levi about this, the pair had opened their eyes to your side of the conflict and made Hange understand. Truly, they didn't account for a lot of things before ending your relationship: from the responsibility of feeding your cat and cleaning the house to understanding your partner's feelings.

Levi called Hange a moron for making you upset and a four-eyed loser for prioritizing "that nerd shit" over you. He had known Hange since high school and was aware of their insatiable obsession with science, even going as far as to believing that they would earn a Nobel Prize in Chemistry one day. Hence, when you started going out, Levi knew that they had fallen for you deeply, and anything that would break your bond could only be explained by supernatural phenomena or Hange's bewildering stupidity.

That said, Levi did the best he could to make Hange understand your viewpoint while Erwin patched their empty heart with anything but beer, apples, and Levi's special melatonin-infused black tea. Hange felt better having understood your feelings, so the next logical step was to talk it out with you for proper closure.

Except they couldn't.

You had already blocked Hange's number just days after the breakup, and your friends—unsurprisingly—weren't about to offer them any help.

THREE.

"Thanks for all of this, Nanaba."

It turns out that even with Hange's attempts at achieving the perfect work-life balance, they still can't master the duty of being a proper owner for the cat. Hange called Nanaba the day they saw your sticky note on the fridge, and since then, they have been keeping in touch with her for the cat's essentials. Hange has also been trying to manage their time better as a way of retribution that they can do better for your relationship, even though they no longer have any means of telling you (which is the harsh reality that they don't want to accept).

"Pfft, don't question it!" Nanaba pats Hange's shoulder as the cat rubs itself on her legs. "I would do anything for this little one! I've grown to like Ion so much, I want to keep him forever!"

"If only Miche wasn't allergic, I'm sure Ion would love to be your new owner," Hange jokes, mentioning Miche, one of Nanaba's roommates.

"Oh, you're just saying that. I'm sure you're a great owner. Sometimes you simply don't have the time to be perfect, and that's okay!"

Nanaba leaves a few moments later after giving Ion a much-needed head pat. Afterward, Hange and the cat decide it would be best to lounge at the living room couch and stare at the ceiling to absorb the quiet.

Ion struts over to the empty space by Hange's feet and lays his body flat. A few seconds later, he conforms his body into the oh-so-famous "catloaf" position, hiding his limbs and tail under his chunky body. Closing his eyes, Ion drifts off to sleep while a laying Hange watches the feline.

Ion, a male orange tabby Persian cat, is the devil reincarnate who happens to be your and Hange's practice child. Hange remembers you describing Ion to be the real-life twin of Garfield, the fictional cat who happens to be of the same breed. They recall questioning your choice at the adoption center upon hearing your many complaints of the feline's behavior, but you shook your head and snuggled the animal in your neck.

"This one's okay," you told them. The cat purred. "I need a little shit for a cat to entertain myself with whenever you aren't around. Also, it should be good training for a kid in the future."

Hange recalls bringing the cat home after a long day and trying their best to make friends with it. You chose the cat yourself, so it liked you more than it did Hange, but it didn't take long for it to start liking them.

"Hey, it likes me!" Hange cheered to themselves as the cat rested on their chest. You smiled. "I can't wait for it to like me better than you."

"You wish!" you retorted, seething with jealousy.

The cat was nameless for a few days as the both of you tried to come up with the perfect name, opting to call it "The Cat" for the meantime. You were against the common ones in favor of unique names, but you were also against certain names that could fool people into mistaking your cat for a human.

Hange kept suggesting the strangest names that were more often than not derived from scientific terms—you liked most of them, but they sounded too scientific for an orange cat who spends most days lazing around the flat. For lack of a better word, they sounded out of character.

That was only until Hange came home from a productive day at the lab, where they toured a bunch of interns and introduced them to their stations.

"Knock, knock," they began. You didn't reply. "You're supposed to say, 'Who's there?'"

"Is this another orange joke?" you asked. Hange shook their head.

"No! It's even better than that. Knock, knock."

You rolled your eyes, laughing.

"Who's there?"

"Cation."

"Cation who?"

"Can't ion-ly knock once? I'm positive you'll open up!"

You snickered.

"You and your silly jokes. Please don't tell me you were telling the interns knock-knock jokes at the lab all day."

"Ha-ha." Hange laughed slowly. "Wow, you totally figured it out!"

Suddenly, The Cat leaped onto Hange's shoulder, frightening them momentarily before being seized. The Cat struggled in Hange's arms as your partner hadn't learned the proper ways of holding a cat yet, but The Cat eventually nestled on their chest. A bright idea came to mind.

"Hange," you called out to them in excitement. They looked at you, intrigued. "What do you call a meowing ion?"

They thought about it silently.

Once they realized, they held up The Cat in the air, effectively surprising the feline.

"A cation!" they answered. They swayed The Cat around swiftly, confusing the poor animal who had no clue of what was to come. "You're a genius, (Y/N)! We should call this one Ion!"

It was a simple but nice name, one that you liked enough to give your partner the go-signal to name the cat as such. Ion seemed to like his name as he picked up on it quickly. It took him a week to get used to the one-syllable three-lettered name before it occurred to him that his two owners identified him with it.

At present, Hange watches Ion open his eyes and hop on the coffee table, sniffing the black tea they had prepared for themselves (this time, melatonin-free). Suddenly, he spots a particular item on the open shelf by the television and jumps over to inspect it, prompting Hange to move.

"No, Ion, get away from there."

Hange stands up from the couch and walks toward the cat. They heave it from the shelf with skilled hands, but it refuses to be picked up as it clings to a picture frame, its claws digging into the glass. Ion hugs the frame for dear life, but its grasp isn't enough to support the weight. One wrong move and it will fall.

"Ugh, put that down, you little cat! If that breaks, I swear to god!"

They manage to get the item out of its grasp when Ion is distracted. Hange decides to put the frame on their work desk in the study room, the one space in the entire apartment that the mischievous cat rarely enters, and believes it to be a fool-proof plan.

Despite all efforts, however, Ion leaps from Hange's hold and onto their work desk.

"Ion!" They grumble in frustration, seeing the cat sniff the picture frame and sit beside it. The photograph is special; it was a photo of you and Hange on your first anniversary that they never bothered to put down after the breakup because they've been clinging on to the little shimmer of hope that you would come back. It's one of the few traces they have left of you at home (and they're eternally grateful that you decided to leave it), so if the cat breaks it, it's over.

Another wave of sadness washes over them when Ion caresses the glass with his paw. Hange notices how he paws your face in the photograph, clearly missing your presence. They frown.

"I know, Ion. I miss her, too." They rub the cat's fur comfortingly. "I'm sorry for being stupid. If I could let you see her again, I would."

And they mean that. The cat misses you dearly and it breaks Hange's heart to imagine that it probably thinks you're dead. Hange isn't too deep into zoology to know if animals can understand human conflict, but they most likely don't. They suppose cat and human break ups are different.

Ion meows as his owner picks him up with a tight grip. He tries to reach out to the frame once more with his stubby limbs as Hange pulls him away from the desk, but he unleashes his claws in protest and grips Hange's shoulder in a devious attack.

"Ow— what the fuck!" Hange hisses as Ion's claws dig deep into their shoulder. They let go of Ion as he leaps back on top of the table, sitting beside the picture frame once more.

They palm their scratched shoulder, glaring at the cat.

"Alright, you want to stay in here like a sulking loser?! Fine by me!"

Hange leaves the study with the door open and the light fixture turned on just so they wouldn't forget to retrieve Ion later. As they walk to the bathroom to wash the wound and rub it with an ointment, they put on some music with the iPad Mini they rarely use.

When the device connects to their home network, a notification instantly appears on screen.

(Y/N) (L/N) recently added to their story.

Hange stands in front of the mirror, dumbfounded.

Not knowing what to do, they simply stare at the notification with raised eyebrows, feeling their chest get heavier by the second. They have an internal argument with their imaginary shoulder devil, who tempts them into clicking the notification. Nothing can go wrong, right? Well, it's just social media—yet their angelic side knocks into their conscience in hopes of waking them up from the temptation, serving as some sort of warning for any consequence that is to come the moment they snoop around your social media. Hange doesn't do anything long enough for the notification banner to disappear, effectively sealing their decision to ignore it—

Hange clicks on the notification at the last second.

The Instagram app opens, then it loads the first photo you added to your story an hour ago.

Great job, Hange. You're responsible for your actions and for your broken heart! They think.

Once your Instagram story loads, Hange recognizes you in a group photo with your friends from university. Dressed in comfortable clothing and makeup done so beautifully, Hange thinks you look stunning as usual. You look no different from the last time they saw you, but they're not quite sure how you're doing behind the sweet smile you have on your face.

Or perhaps they're just projecting their own sadness and can't fathom the idea of you moving on from them. It's a selfish thought coming from the person who initiated the break up, but they yearn so hard for you to still be in love with them against all odds.

Who's a sulking loser now? They think again.

They tap through your story, thoughts continuing to barrage their mind until the last one catches them off guard.

It seems pretty normal: a photo of the sunset with a song from an artist you like playing in the background, not until they notice the little green icon at the topmost part of the screen. They're still in your Close Friends.

They squint their eyes and read the small text at the bottom of the image.

let me see ion one more time pls. i miss everything

"What the hell?"

Breathing in deeply, Hange steps away from the iPad in shock. Dramatic, they know—and there is absolutely no way that this is real since they have been blocked from your contacts just a few days after the breakup, but knowing you, this is something that you would totally do. And it's not like you voiced out to see them—you wanted to see Ion, the cat. Hange should be jealous that the cat gets your attention in this scenario, but knowing you (yet again), you would never be the one to articulate that kind of desire. Regardless, Hange knows that you still want them. Or they pray that you do.

You must. You have to.

Hange is just surprised that they chanced upon your story since they haven't opened their Instagram account in months, and truth be told, they only had one for the sake of having a social media presence that isn't Facebook. Suddenly, the pain in their shoulder fades away, and their only goal is to find some way to respond without sounding like a selfish asshole.

They should post a story with just you in their Close Friends, something that would totally shock you like how you shocked them. Hange believes it's an amazing plan until they try to execute it. Well, they had never posted anything on their story before. Everything that they ever posted on the platform went directly to their feed which over time became a messy jumbled dump of random photos. They don't have many followers, either. You had once called them a "shitposter" with a "garbage dump of a feed", which tells Hange enough that they probably shouldn't proceed with the plan.

So, they settle for your private messages with a direct reply to your story.

Upon opening your direct messages, however, Hange's heart sinks. You didn't block them on Instagram, much less take down the customized settings in your private chat, so everything stayed the same as before as if nothing ever happened: your nickname is still "My Darling Dearest", while theirs is a matching "my beloved". Your chat theme is still the "Love" theme on Instagram with your back-and-forth messages colored pink.

Hange thinks of what to say, what to type. This will be your first conversation since the breakup, after all. They shouldn't mess it up by saying something stupid.

An idea comes to mind. Hange hurriedly exits the bathroom, iPad Mini in hand, and enters their study. They find Ion in the same position as before, laying beside your picture frame as he paws on your photograph. Hange tucks the iPad in between their armpit and seizes Ion from behind.

"A-ha! Gotcha!" Rejoicing, Hange carries the cat out of the study as he instantly goes feral in their hold. They restrain his paws as much as they can while they talk Ion into doing them a favor. "Please, Ion, don't you want to see your mother again? (Y/N)?"

At the sound of your name, the cat calms down and Hange sighs.

Man, this cat has issues.

With the behaved cat, Hange sits on the couch and places Ion on their lap, belly facing them. The cat looks at them in confusion, watching his owner pull out the iPad and excitedly open the Camera app to take a photo of his vulnerable form.

"Mrao?" the cat asks.

"Just stay still," they order.

Ion makes a face of disapproval and shuts his eyes tightly, stretching his limbs out as he tries to contain his annoyance. He wants to see you again, even if it means just staring at your photograph and burning your image in his head, as opposed to being captured and taken photos of like a show animal. He loves Hange for feeding him and taking care of him, but why would they separate him from you? He misses you so much.

"Looks good enough." Ion hears Hange mumble to themselves. He meows another time in a questioning tone to ask if the job is finally done so that he can go back to admiring your photograph. When Hange puts him down on the ground, he bolts for the study.

Meanwhile, Hange stares at the messages they had sent you on Instagram.

my beloved: Heyy... Ion misses you too... my beloved: Attached Image my beloved: hahahahhaaafh :') Seen

They sound like a nervous wreck, akin to a middle schooler who's confessing to someone for the very first time in fear of rejection. Hange doesn't expect you to reply right away, so they stow away the iPad on the coffee table while they scream into one of the couch pillows to relieve their stress. Suddenly, the device vibrates.

Hange is looking at the notification in no time.

My Darling Dearest: thank you

Their heart leaps out of their chest. You replied. You actually replied. It's a simple thank you that probably doesn't mean much to anyone else, but it means the entire world to them given the current circumstances. Hange breaks into a grin as they stand up from the couch and pace around the living room, rereading your two-word reply over and over again.

my beloved: Of course of course, don't mention it!!! my beloved: Sorry for the exclamation points, I'm not shouting :( Seen

Their celebration ends quickly, however, as Hange curses to themselves upon typing a stupid response with the apology at the end. They take a deep breath. Okay, Hange. Don't mess this up now!

They watch as the read receipt appears at the bottom of their message. A small bubble with three dots appears then disappears every so often. You continue to type for the next 30 seconds and Hange grows anxious.

When you don't reply, their shoulders fall.

"Just my luck," they mutter. Hange is left at read even after six minutes of waiting. At this point, they can't identify the best course of action after getting ignored. They guess that it's better than being left at delivered, and that they should be grateful that you replied in the first place, so they exit the app and admit defeat.

But they come back running a minute later after having realized that they should initiate. Of course you wouldn't want to talk to Hange after they broke your heart—even if you still love them dearly, it's only appropriate if you refrain from any kind of interaction... yet you had replied to their message when you could have just totally ghosted them, removed your cute chat decorations, and blocked them on every social media platform there is to exist.

Hange isn't giving up on your relationship. They can't give up on you.

my beloved: To tell you the truth, I saw your story earlier and I figured that you might want to see Ion again my beloved: I understand if you don't want to see me, but I can drop him off my beloved: He misses mom a lot! D: Seen

Hange observes just how fast you read their message and smiles to themselves when they see you typing. They're glad they pulled the "our-son-misses-you" card as it seemed to be enough to get your attention. Hange looks at their study, remembering the cat who's snuggled up with your photo. Ion would be more than delightful to hear about this.

My Darling Dearest: tomorrow 2 PM. my beloved: Oh okay!! my beloved: May I ask where? 😅 My Darling Dearest: i'm staying at nifa's my beloved: We will be there! Seen

Hange giggles, kicking their feet. They throw the iPad on the couch and run to the study. Picking up Ion from the work desk, they hoist the cat in the air as they celebrate. "We did it! We're seeing (Y/N) tomorrow!"

"Miaow!"

"I know! Okay, I'm giving you a bath tonight." Hange puts him down and lets the cat roam free. Suddenly, they remember that they have work tomorrow. It's currently Sunday afternoon and their workload is calling their name. "Fuck."

Running their fingers through their hair, they shake their head. It shouldn't matter. They have more important things to attend to.

FOUR.

"Look, I'm sorry for being an asshole. I reflected on everything I said the past month and I understand that I was wrong. Please, from the bottom of my heart, can you give me a second chance?"

"Wrrrao!"

"Ugh, get up. We're both bad at this."

Ion meows angrily a second time when Hange picks him up. It's his call of hunger. He demands food and water because he's Hange's (and your) precious cat who can do no wrong, like the king of the flat, the king of everything. Hange situates Ion on their shoulder and lets him balance there as they prepare the cat food that Nanaba had sent yesterday. He smugly watches Hange plate his meal and promptly hops off their shoulder once they put his pet bowl on the ground. While Ion digs into his breakfast, Hange disappears into the bedroom and locks themselves inside to be left alone with their thoughts.

Ever since you consented to seeing Ion—and Hange—yesterday afternoon, they decided to call in sick at work. Once that problem was out of the way (which, to their surprise, was a fairly easy process), they decided to craft an apology to rehearse if they ever find the time to insert a small discussion in your "casual" meeting.

"That's great to hear, Hange!" Erwin told them last night over FaceTime. Hange had to break the news to someone other than the cat, and since Erwin (and Levi) had been there for them since day one, they decided to tell him immediately. They were hoping to get his opinion on the matter, maybe some word of advice and a 101 on "how-to-approach-your-ex-girlfriend". But Erwin was empty-handed, equally clueless as he hadn't been in their shoes before; he never tried to get back together with an ex. He was hopeful, though. "Sorry about that. In any case, I believe you can handle it on your own. No one knows her better than you."

But Hange isn't handling this as well as they'd hoped. Usually quick with words, they thought finding the right ones for their apology would come naturally, but it hasn't. Every attempt feels clumsy, every phrase falls short. The weight of the moment presses on them, and the uncertainty of how this meeting will unfold only makes it worse. It could go right, or it could go wrong—but Hange can't shake the sinking feeling that the odds of success have never felt slimmer.

Hange wonders what's running through your mind. Did you sleep well last night after your conversation? Are your friends warning you it's a bad idea to meet up with your ex? Or maybe you're considering canceling altogether? They figure that's unlikely, though—after all, you've missed Ion like crazy. Your bond with Ion (Hange chuckles softly at their own chemistry joke) is far too strong for you to say no to seeing him. Still, they wouldn't blame you if you canceled. After all, who'd want to face the person who shattered their heart?

Regardless, Hange has been rehearsing countless scenarios, crafting a plan for every possible outcome if things don't go their way. They've already revised their apology at least four times, hoping one version will hit the right note when they see you this afternoon. In one scenario, they picture knocking on your old friend and roommate Nifa's door, leaving Ion on the doorstep, and waiting out of sight until you step outside to find him sitting there, alone on the mat. Then, they'd emerge—calm, composed—and launch into their carefully prepared speech. In another, they imagine standing at the doorway, holding Ion and a bouquet of flowers, their nerves barely hidden. They'd offer you both—flowers and cat alike—with a heartfelt apology for their foolish mistakes, hoping it's enough to bridge the gap they created.

As they sit in silence, though, Hange thinks they're going overboard. You would probably appreciate it if they brought you something other than the cat, but spoiling you with flowers and some other romantic shit when you aren't together anymore just sounds... pathetic. Pitiful. It feels like they're begging for your love through material possessions when they shouldn't. They hurt you with their words, their gestures, so they might as well patch it up by promising to do better and showing it all through their actions.

So Hange arrives with just the cat. No flowers, no chocolates, none of that romantic stuff. Just them, Ion, their keys, and wallet.

Breathing in, Hange rings the doorbell. They arrived pretty early—it's still 1:46 PM, but your and Nifa's old apartment used to be on the other side of town so they had to leave the flat early. As they wait to be let in, they stroke Ion's orange fur and pray to a transcendent being that everything will be okay.

FIVE.

A month away from Hange feels longer than it should have been. A month is a year in your book, and on some days, it feels even longer.

It's the aftermath of a breakup—an unwelcome shadow that lingers over your life. Even with a regular job to keep you busy, Hange's words haunt you, often pushing you to the brink of a breakdown. You can't seem to escape it. The moment you're alone with nothing to distract you, the discomfort creeps in, settling like a heavy knot in your stomach. Whether it lasts three minutes or five, it always ends the same, your tears threatening to spill as the weight becomes too much to bear.

To your luck, your old roommate Nifa had provided you amazing company while you tried to mend your broken heart. You met her in university when you moved out from your hometown and lived within the residence halls for the duration of your undergraduate program. When your friend group expanded, the both of you moved out of the dorms with Abel and Keiji into a four-bedroom apartment near campus, which became your home until you decided to move in with Hange three years ago. Hence, when you stormed out of your apartment after the breakup with nothing but your phone and wallet, Nifa was the first person you called.

She welcomed you to your old home with open arms, followed by Abel and Keiji who came running back home to tackle you into a group hug. You had been away for so long that they almost didn't recognize you—you had grown since you had last seen them five months ago, but you ought to think that it was the stress taking a toll on your body.

The merriment of your return drifted away as you explained to the boys why you visited. They comforted you for the rest of the evening and offered every kind of help. To say they were disappointed about the news was an understatement. Abel and Keiji were upset to learn the details, while Nifa exploded into flames—they found it absurd that Hange broke up with you and not the other way around.

"Seriously, why would someone do that to the sweetest girl out there?!" Nifa exclaimed, eyebrows knitted and face evidently furious.

You agreed with them. It was quite strange that Hange ended your relationship for that reason when it was something you could have made amends with. You had never fought in your relationship as any issue encountered was almost immediately solved with proper communication. It had always been that way since you started noticing Hange's workaholic attitude, which merely turned out for the worst.

You were lonely. On some days, you felt unloved. Hange couldn't spare you a glance as you made breakfast in the morning because they would be working away at the study the moment they woke up. The longest stretch without any real acknowledgment from them lasted four days, and it drove you mad. It was a cycle of waking up, going to work, and going to bed without them, and you had never felt more distant. You tried to invite them out to dinner in hopes of rebuilding your relationship, but you were always politely turned down.

That was arguably the worst part: they weren't mean about it. In fact, Hange seemed genuinely apologetic every time they declined. Yet as the days dragged on, the apologies began to sting. It didn't feel like them to refuse you so often. They had always loved going out with you, and even when work consumed their time in the past, they had always found a way to make room for you. This wasn't the Hange you knew.

What changed? You had wondered. Hange was always running around doing things and you were aware of that. They could never sit still because there was always something that they wanted to work on. You loved that about them; it was what you found interesting about Hange that made you fall for them harder. There is great honor in working so scholarly at a lab day and night and you couldn't be any prouder, but to do so in excess transformed it into a vice that hurt the both of you deeply.

Hange didn't know how to take care of themselves until you came into the picture. Their obsession with constantly working on things hindered them from eating regularly or looking after themselves. When their schedule got tighter the past few months and you witnessed their health deteriorating like a decreasing health bar in a video game, you got mad. Call it motherly girlfriend instincts and whatnot, but you were bothered by it.

"You didn't eat your food." You frowned upon seeing the small container with the food you cooked that morning. "What the— Hange! Why is your water bottle still full?!"

It was excessive. They weren't eating the food you packed them yet they would have the audacity to come up to you a few days later with a growling, aching stomach. "I swear, if you develop an ulcer, what are we going to do?!" You would cook for Hange whenever that happened, whether it be at 10 in the evening or two in the morning. Whenever they needed something, you were up and standing, ready to help them with whatever—and it was exactly why it hurt so much when they couldn't even hang out with you like you used to.

"I can do it all for you, so why can't you do it for me?"

Nonetheless, you didn't want to break up. No, that wasn't the best decision. It never was and it never will be. Hange is a scientist with a passion for learning, so surely they can learn to be better, yet they ended your relationship like they weren't willing to.

And even after weeks of not having Hange by your side, it still pissed you off so much that they couldn't just listen to you or make the commitment to do so. You couldn't suppress your anxiety either. Everyday, you would think about how they're doing without you being there to maintain things at home. You doubt the note you left by the fridge was enough to keep them going. While they eventually had to learn how to do things without you, there's a discomfort at the pit of your stomach that they wouldn't be able to live like normal without you around. Their regular job requires lots of time and attention on top of the many other commitments they have—hell, they probably will struggle with taking care of the cat!

Although the wound in your heart faded as time passed. While you still worried for Hange, your hurt became anger and anger became misery. You were upset—so upset, and you miss Hange (and Ion) so badly. Moving out of your apartment with not even a single word of closure stung so badly as if a part of your soul left and never returned. You would do anything in your power to get back together with them again, but was it a good decision to initiate?

"Especially when they ended it first?" Nifa spoke, rubbing her knees with cold hands as she sat across you on the living room floor. You had asked her if it was a good idea to ever come running back to an ex, to give them a second chance to make things better. "Usually not, but this kind of scenario often plays out for cheaters. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to get back together."

"I second that," Keiji said, seated on the armchair. "If they still don't change, make sure to end it once and for all."

"I wouldn’t initiate it myself," Abel added. Nifa shot him a pointed look, but he continued. "They broke up with you. No offense, but do yourself a favor—don’t go making a fool of yourself chasing after someone when you’re not even sure they want you back. If Hange wants to reconcile, let them do the begging."

You took their advice and followed your heart. You wanted to get back together because you weren't letting a single argument be the end of your relationship, and if Hange didn't want to restore your connection, you at least wanted some form of closure. On top of that, you wanted to see your cat.

So you distracted yourself.

You waited for them to reach out. Right after the breakup, you had blocked Hange's number partly to avoid the inevitable messages, knowing full well they'd try to reach out after a couple of days of silence. But you weren't ready to talk at the time, so their contact remained blocked for an entire week while you sorted through your emotions and sought advice from your friends. Eventually wanting to hear from them, you unblocked their number and left the door open for them to message you, but to your dismay, the days passed in silence and Hange hadn't reached out at all.

You looked through your private messages on different platforms yet you didn't receive any word from them. Your heart sunk at the revelation. Maybe Hange didn't want to talk to you. After all, they hid themselves inside their study when you came back to the apartment the morning after the breakup to pack your things into boxes. Maybe Hange truly didn't want to talk.

Grief consumed you in the days that followed, yet you couldn't bring yourself to reach out, afraid it would only deepen your pain. If nearly three weeks had passed without a word from Hange, it had to mean they were done with you, didn't it? Still, you clung stubbornly to the faint hope that they'd reach out one day. As the silence stretched on, however, the weight of waiting became too much to bear, and you knew you had to do something about it.

You couldn't stand it anymore. Waiting around for nothing just made you more anxious than you already were, so off to Instagram you went, removing everyone in your Close Friends except Hange. You knew they rarely spent time online except for networking sites like LinkedIn and ResearchGate, but you wanted to send some kind of signal without being too obvious.

You had gone out with your roommates the day you posted the story, so if Hange ever decided to open their Instagram after months of inactivity, it wouldn't be too obvious that you posted. When the post went through, you held your breath and ditched your phone to calm your raging nerves.

Will it work? Will they even see it? You thought to yourself, hopeful about the outcomes.

After an hour of waiting, however, you didn't hear anything from them. No view receipt, no new message, nothing. It didn't hurt that much since Hange rarely opened Instagram in the first place, but you were hoping that they would at least have the idea of coming online to check your account. Yet their account showed no activity, the green dot at the side of their profile picture missing every time you checked.

Suddenly, your phone vibrated. A notification went through.

my beloved Heyy... Ion misses you too...

The rest was history. You managed to arrange a meeting with Hange the following day under the guise of meeting Ion, but you hadn't done so without prancing around your room like a panicking idiot. You hadn't told anybody about posting your story in fear of jinxing things, so you replied to Hange with no one's help but yourself.

Now, you sit at the dining table with your roommates, who bicker over Keiji's homemade lunch about a manga series they've been following. You eat your food in silence as you think of a way to tell your friends that you had invited Hange over for a casual meeting in two hours, but you're left dry with ideas.

Eventually, it comes out of your mouth.

"What?" Abel mumbles to himself, freezing midair with the serving spoon and a bowl of chicken in his hands. Keiji drops his fork.

"You did what?!" Nifa screeches, followed by an apology from Abel for her indecency. "Girl, I— sorry, you invited them here? Like, you aren't joking?"

"Listen, I"—you gulp—"I invited them because I wanted to see the cat."

"Never mind the cat. Your ex is still coming," Nifa points out.

"Of course, I know that—"

"Are you sure about this?" Abel asks. Your eyes fall down to your plate. "Just so we're clear, we're not mad at you for having them over."

"I understand," you reply.

"We're worried for you."

"I understand that, too," you say. Abel is silent. "Look, I know it sounds dumb, but I promise I didn't invite them over just like that. I truly did want to see Ion and I wasn't expecting a reply."

"What did you do?" Keiji asks. You tell him about your elaborate plan and he nods his head in approval. "Wow. You have insane luck."

"I do, and I just— I meant it when I said that I didn't expect it, okay? You all know Hange, they're... chronically offline. Not that good with social media."

Nifa snorts. "Yeah, you could say that again. I'm surprised they even knew how to reply to an Insta story." Mashing her chicken with her fork, she clears her throat. "Well, I guess we should get going ASAP."

"You aren't mad?" you ask, surprised.

"I don't see the point. You should live your life the way you want to," she says. "Also, it makes us feel better that you're here because of a misunderstanding and not any of that cheating bullshit."

"I would have ripped their throat out if you had come here for that." Keiji seethes. You giggle.

"Don't worry. You'll never have to."

"Ugh, why am I tearing up?" Nifa dramatically pauses. She lets go of her utensils and leans over to your side. "God, come here for a hug!"

"Group hug!" Keiji rejoices, his hands automatically locating your head and giving you a couple of pats. Abel follows suit, leaning next to you.

"Just don't hurt yourself," he says as he embraces you back. Keiji and Nifa nod.

"I won't. I promise."

SIX.

Your roommates left the apartment after they finished cleaning up. They promised to hang out for a few hours at a nearby café and that they would be one call away in case you needed anything. They trusted that you and Hange won't go batshit crazy at the apartment, but if it ever came down to that, Keiji and Abel promised to arrive in three minutes tops.

The clock ticks by as the silence envelopes the apt. You're sitting on the arm of the couch as you bounce your knee impatiently. It's 1:45 PM, exactly 15 minutes before your scheduled meeting, yet you're already stationed by the door.

You inhale sharply when the doorbell rings.

Standing from the couch, you approach the entrance. You look through the peephole to check the new arrival, and your heart swells upon seeing a patch of orange fur in Hange's arms.

It's now or never.

You open the door.

"Hi. I'm here, like you asked... ha-ha." Hange laughs slowly, the awkwardness sinking in. When silence falls in the air, they look at the cat and offer him to you. "Um, anyway, here's Ion, the cat. Our cat... that we, um, co-parent together— sorry, was that term triggering? Whatever. Anyway, here he is— oh, uhuh, yep— Ion, relax!"

Ion leaps into your arms the moment he realizes that you're in front of him. You look the same as the last time he saw you, your features still recognizable by his little cat brain. Ion is also delighted to see that you aren't crying anymore. When you dashed in and out of the apartment a month ago with tears falling on your face, he couldn't handle the fear and confusion that consumed him.

The moment you catch the cat, you hold him close to your chest and snuggle his head into your shoulder. Ion does so obediently, sniffing you in the process to refresh his memory with your scent. Hange watches the scene unfold in front of them, their heart warming up and a big smile appearing on their face as Ion happily purrs in your hold. Leaning on the door, they allow themselves to get lost at the warm sight in front of them, nostalgic of the domestic life with you and your feline child.

When Ion calms down, you thank Hange sheepishly.

"Well," you start after a few seconds of quiet, "are you just going to stand there?"

"Oh." Hange's eyes shoot up. "You want me to...?"

You sigh. "Just come in."

Hange follows your request and slowly walks in the apartment. As you close the door, they look around to observe. So much has changed since the last time they visited. It's a much bigger space compared to your shared one on the other side of town to house four people, and although your creative touch is initially unrecognizable as opposed to the old days, Hange figures out that if they look hard enough, they can see your touches here and there—the flower vase at the foot of the TV and the little figurines inside the glass shelf by the dining room corner are household articles that only they can recognize in familiarity.

"Are your roommates home?" they ask. You shake your head. "So that leaves the both of us here... alone?"

You sit yourself on the couch and release Ion to let him explore the apartment. Hange cautiously occupies the space beside you, leaving some space in between to make things less awkward.

You bat your eyelashes. Nodding your head, you purse your lips and decide to let your actions do the talking. You still aren't sure if you want to initiate the conversation, so you leave the opportunity for Hange to grab.

And they notice. Taking a deep breath in, Hange decides it's the perfect time to address the elephant in the room.

"I'm sorry," they say softly. Rubbing their hands together, they decide at the last second to ditch their script and just go for it. You listen intently. "I thought about it after you moved out. I've done wrong in the past, but this has to be the pinnacle of my mistakes. I was mad, and I didn't realize the weight of my words until you left... I'm sorry."

"Is that all?"

"No." They shake their head. "Of course not. I would say more, but it gets overwhelming." Hange turns their head to the side and meets your eyes for the first time in a month. You allow them to look. "What do you want to know?"

You shift in your seat.

"Why you broke up with me." Hange looks away when they hear the sadness in your voice. "Why you thought breaking up was the best decision at that time."

"I didn't," they say. "I eventually regretted it. I still do."

"But you just let me be." You frowned. "You didn't... you didn't chase after me, you didn't run after me when I left the next day. I didn't even receive a single message after two weeks—"

"You know I wanted to," Hange cuts you off, looking back at you with a pained expression. "But I had to stop myself. I couldn't start begging you to come back without considering your feelings. What kind of person would that make me, if not even more selfish?"

They lean forward, elbows on their knees as they stare into nothingness. "I was angry. Stubborn, but angry. When you nagged at me, I just— I just wanted you away. I didn't want to be disturbed and it annoyed me when you did because I was working. I did it to push you away even though it wasn't the best decision."

"That was a mistake, Hange," you remark. Hange mutters a quick, "I know," in response. "Did you think that I could do better?"

"You could say that. For the longest time, I never thought of one to be less sufficient than the other. We were great, but I couldn't meet your needs as well as before when things were becoming busy." Hange rests their forehead on the heels of their palms and shuts their eyes. "I wanted focus. I didn't want distractions, and more importantly, I was tired."

Expression turning sour, you say, "Distraction? Our relationship was a distraction, was that it?"

"It," Hange hesitates, "it was what I thought."

Leaning back on the couch, you look away from Hange as their words sink in. Your eyes well up with tears, an irksome occurrence amid the exchange. You promised yourself earlier that you wouldn't cry as you had already done enough in the past few weeks, but they just come, and you make no effort to stop them.

"Even after everything I did?"

Hange heeds the hurt in your voice, prompting them to come closer in response for comfort.

"I-I'm sorry. I promise you, I thought things out when you were gone and I regret it. I really do!"

"A distraction," you choke out. "Ugh, god. I've never heard that one before."

"I'm sorry..." Hange says for the nth time that day. They try to come closer to see your face, but you avoid them. "I didn't have my priorities straight. I always made time for you in the past, but I just got so obsessed and I— I'm so sorry."

No response. You let your tears run while you cry in silence. Hange doesn't know what to do and the panic settles in.

"Hey… I realized how hard it was to live without you, so I'm here to talk it out." You sniff. Hange is starting to crumble. "Baby, I'm a difficult person who had an easier life because of you. In hindsight, you were no distraction. I thought that way because I was an obsessive freak, and I hate myself for hurting you! I've gotten even crankier to the point of drinking Levi's melatonin black tea, and— and—"

Ion suddenly hops on you, finding his normal spot on your lap before you decided to one day disappear from his life. Surprised, you let the cat sit on your lap as he meows anxiously at the tension in the air. Hange breathes in.

"The cat!" They cry. "The cat misses you! He scratches me like I'm a walking cat scratcher every time he demands to see you. He's been wondering where his mother went because she hasn't been home in a month!"

Hange watches Ion purr against your touch, enjoying your company as he realizes that you aren't dead after all, just gone for a very long time. He turns around from his seated position on your lap to lay on his back, his tummy showing and vulnerable to you, a sign of trust toward his owner.

Hange's heart sinks another time when you pull Ion close after wiping your tears away, a bittersweet pang reminding them of the days when they could simply glance at you and the cat, content in the quiet comfort of your shared space as they worked in their study. For what feels like the hundredth time that day, regret wells up, filling the hollow ache in their chest. If it weren't for your presence keeping them anchored, they might have broken down completely right then and there.

"I'm sorry," they choke out as they gently reach for your hand and hold it in theirs, possibly for the final time. They know there isn't a single word, phrase, or sentence out there that can articulate the graveness of their apology, but they hope to get it across as much as they can. "I'm an asshole for coming here in the first place, but if it means getting proper closure and allowing our cat to see you again, I don't regret it. I hope you can forgive me for invading your space."

You sigh. "That's enough, Hange."

"Huh?" They drop your hand in response, afraid of what's to come.

"I get it. You're sorry for what you did." Ion rolls around in your lap, soon standing on his hind legs with his forelegs reaching out to you for a hug. You hug him back. "I'm just, um, I'm just worried now, and I've been worried. How were you? Were you doing okay?"

Hange exhales in relief. "Dear, you didn't have to worry about me."

You frown.

"No, love. I want to worry about you. What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn't?" Hange's heart skips a beat when you call them with the term of endearment. "So? How was life then?"

"I reached the conclusion that being single isn't good for me." They pout. They hold your hand again. "I struggled so much alone. I survived, but surviving isn't living. Life felt empty when I didn't have the sweetest girl making me happy."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I mean it! I love living with you, I love loving you. I know I can do that even when we're not together, but it makes my life so much fuller when you're in the picture."

They look down at Ion, who looks at them from his peripheral vision like he's judging them dramatically.

"You and Ion, of course."

"Mrrao!"

Snuggling with Ion, you kiss his nose. He purrs back in contentment.

"I just... I didn't feel as loved as I used to," you say. "I love living my life knowing that it's you who I end up with, but I must have loved you too hard. Maybe I love you too much because I want to spend more time with you, to always be around you."

"And you aren't selfish for that," Hange declares. "You deserve to be loved for the woman you are and for the love you give. You did so much for me, yet I didn't pay you back. You had every right to complain. Now that you have, I hope to make things right and compensate you for all the times I acted so dumbly. I'll make time for you again and I'll take care of myself better—I promise."

"But how do I know that you're telling the truth?" you whisper. Second chances are hard to come by. To give an ex this special chance to make things right doesn't happen to just anyone, and it rarely even works out the second time around. What is Hange willing to do for you when you've already done so much for them? "Tell me what you're willing to do. How do I know, Hange?"

"Because I called off everything I had to do today just to come here." Hange smiles a bit. That's your cue to realize that they did, indeed, skip work today just to visit you and iron things out. It's a Monday afternoon, and Hange could have simply taken a half-day shift, but they decided against it entirely. "And, as a matter of fact, I would do it again, and again, and again."

"Oh, Hange, don't waste your—"

"No, no! You got the wrong idea!" they exclaim. "I'm not going to take the entire week off just to prove a point briefly and go back to being a douchebag the following week. I figured that, out of everything, temperance is a virtue that I should work on. I want to be there for you when you need me and I will be there."

Your tears have dried at this point, having left a puffy texture on your eyes. Hange carefully massages your hand in theirs as you find the right words to say.

"Promise me this, Hange."

"I promise."

"Then kiss me if you want to seal it."

With a big grin on their face, Hange leans forward and wraps their hands around your body, laughing softly as Ion looks up in between the both of you with curious eyes. Hange pats his head, mumbles a quick apology to the cat, and kisses you gently with that silly grin still on their face. You kiss them back slowly, heart warming up to the sweet moment of having your partner back into your life to complete your little family of three.

Hange pulls away, but they stay close to you, their hands cupping your face. "I missed you so badly."

"I missed you, too. Being away from you killed me more than being with you all the time. Believe it or not, it felt more toxic." You sigh. "I want to move back in, but you need to give me a few days to… well, process things."

"Of course, take your time as needed. I can't just steal you a second time from your roommates, you know?" Hange jokes as they stroke your cheek.

"I stole you from Erwin and Levi," you deadpan, "but yes, it should be fine. Just give me time to say goodbye and pack my things."

Hange looks over to the side. A part of them feels guilty for taking you away from your roommates so easily. "You don't have to move in right away if you still want to stay here for a bit, you know? I respect your decision if you think it's too fast."

You shake your head cutely. "Cut that out! We need to pay our bills soon and I have to cuddle Ion in bed!"

"Huh? But what about me?" They frown out of jealousy. Ion yawns, like he's telling them to get over it. "Cheeky cat."

"You'll get even better cuddles." You giggle. Hange laughs along, completely missing the innuendo. They're just happy to hear you giggling again. "To start, would you like a complete family hug? Maybe you'd even want to stay for a bit. The guys won't be going home unless I tell them to—"

"Are you joking? I would love to!"

If you found Hange clingy before you broke up, then you certainly find their behavior ten times more excessive now. Upon your request, they rest their body on yours, placing their head on your chest and feeling the rise and fall of your calm breaths. They pet the cat next to them, whom Hange believes to have smiled as well when he notices your physical contact. They're right—Ion is happy. He's satisfied seeing that his two owners are back together, and that neither of you are crying anymore.

As they lay on your chest, Hange lets their mind go numb. They lay in silence, keeping their delighted reactions to themselves when you would fiddle with their hair or play with their fingers. The moment is spent in quietude, but it's perfect—the ideal time for Hange to solemnly swear to the gods, the transcendent beings, to themselves, most especially, that they will never let you go.

There are only so many people in the world that they get along with, let alone be so open to the idea of loving. Hange vows to stay true to their words, to treat you better—kiss you better—as you have always deserved.

ctto for the cat photo (via pinterest)

also i saw this tweet while writing and i just NFDHBFHD THIS IS SO ACCURATELY HANGE IN THIS FIC LMAO

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