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teamred · 5 months ago

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so contagious

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x reader | fluff | smut | 2.8k

SUMMARY | following the kissing from your movie night, logan takes you out on a proper date, while you take him back to your place afterwards. // part two of any other way

WARNINGS | smut, breastplay, oral s*x (female receiving), piv s*x, unprotected s*x // this is 70% fluff - 30% smut!

RATING | explicit

NOTES | i didn't intend to make a part two, but so many of you loved it, i had to give it a shot! this one is from logan's perspective. yes, i know this logan is a bit ooc, but, in my head, this takes place some time after worst!logan enters wade's universe and he's softened up. please leave some love if you enjoy it!

Logan has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

Standing in front of the living room mirror, he debates if he should choose the pale blue plaid shirt he's currently wearing or one of his brown ones instead. But if he chooses the latter, it'd be too similar to the one he wore when you saw him yesterday.

Overthinking isn't his style, and yet here he is, obsessing over something as trivial as his shirt color. It’s been decades since he’s been on a proper date, maybe even ever.

“Well, don't you look handsome,” Wade cuts through his thoughts with a grin and folded arms, peeling himself away from the kitchen door frame. He saunters over, reaching out to touch Logan’s hair, only for the larger man to shove him away immediately.

“Not now, Wade.”

Wade sniffs his hand dramatically. “Oh, my God–you even used hair product! This is so exciting. It's like witnessing a teenager on his first date. I feel like your mom!”

“Well, Mom,” Logan refocuses on the mirror, fixing the mess Wade made of his hair, “you can fuck off.”

Wade points a finger at him with mock sternness. “Hey, watch your language, young man.”

Then, to Logan’s surprise, Wade grows momentarily quiet as he stands next to him, both facing the mirror. “Also, the blue shirt’s the better choice.”

“Yeah?” Logan quirks an eyebrow, glancing over at the brown plaid shirts laid out on the couch.

“Yeah,” replies Wade softly, and Logan catches a genuine smile in the mirror. The heartfelt moment doesn’t last long though when Wade claps him on the back. “And don’t be so nervous, Wolvie. You already went to second base with her last night. The deal’s pretty much sealed.”

Logan scowls. “I’m not nervous.”

“Mm-hmm. You say that, but you’re being even more testy than usual. Dare I blame it on the hormones?” Suddenly, he plants a quick kiss on Logan’s cheek.

“What the fuck?!”

Logan recoils, then almost lunges at him instinctively. However, Wade’s already retreating and walking backwards, making a beeline to his bedroom with a wave of his hand.

“Be back by curfew, sweetie! But text me if you’ll be out late, or if you need anything. Some snacks, some condoms—”

“Wade!” he growls, his patience wearing thin.

Wade blows an air kiss, disappearing into his room. “Love ya! And you got this!”

Logan mumbles to himself, “Yeah, I sure hope so.”

Turning to the mirror for one final check, he adjusts his collar and straightens his shirt. His phone vibrates on the living room table and he reads the incoming texts from Laura:

- hey sorry for the late reply - but if you haven’t gone out already, i prefer the blue over the brown - not that it matters though - she’ll find you handsome either way - don’t worry! it’ll go well :)

Logan nods, reassured by Laura’s texts. It’s just a date with someone he’s already known for a little while; it’s not like a blind date or anything. He can do this.

With one last look in the mirror to check his hair and beard, he grabs his keys and wallet, slings his dark brown leather jacket over his shoulder, and heads out the door.

Logan pulls up in front of your apartment complex and gives you a quick call to let you know he’s here. When you step out of the building, his eyes can’t help but sweep over you—fitted jeans hugging your curves, an off-the-shoulder top that shows just enough, and that stunning smile that lights up your face.

He notices you checking him out too. Realizing that his hair might be messy, he quickly combs his fingers through it as you stroll over.

“Long time, no see,” you joke, referencing how you saw him just yesterday.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Logan greets, trying to sound more relaxed than he feels. He holds a helmet out to you, but catches how his grip is more tense than usual. “You ready for a ride?”

You nod, eyes sparkling with excitement. As he steps away from his bike to help you with the helmet, he finds it endearing how you lift your chin and pout a little, making it easier for him to secure the straps. He hopes his touch isn’t too rough, but when your eyes meet his and you smile up at him, he knows he must be doing something right.

With his hands so close to your face, his mind flashes to how he palmed your cheeks and neck last night as he kissed you deeply. It’s presumptuous, but he hopes for a repeat tonight.

Once you hop on the bike behind him and wrap your arms snugly around his waist, he revels in the warmth of your body against his. As he weaves through the city streets, he occasionally glances back to make sure you’re comfortable.

Logan thinks to himself how good this feels, to ride around freely with someone he cares for by his side. It’s been awhile since he’s let someone get this close to him…

Maybe he could get used to this.

Eventually, he pulls up at an old diner he’s grown fond of across town. The place gives him a sense of nostalgia, a reminder of simpler times (and, even though he tries not to think of it, it also brings back memories of that one time with Wade in the Void).

He offered to take you here because it’s familiar, cozy, and he didn’t want to overthink this date with reservations to some high-end restaurant.

Walking across the mostly empty restaurant, a waitress leads you both to a window booth, where you sit across from each other.

At first, there’s a bit of awkwardness—Logan recommends what’s good on the menu, and you take a moment to decide what to order. His foot taps on the floor as he peeks over the menu, sitting in the silence uncomfortably.

But once the waitress takes your orders, conversation flows more easily, just like it normally does at Wade’s get-togethers.

You check in with how Laura’s doing, if he and Wade have been on any more assignments recently, and how his motorcycle is running since he fixed it last.

Logan’s grateful you’re leading the conversation and asking questions; it’s always been easier for him to listen than to talk.

But he’s putting in effort tonight—he takes it upon himself to know about your life outside of work, if you’ve been reading anything lately, and how you felt about the ride over to the diner.

“A little scary, but it was fun!” you grin, resting your chin in your palm. “I’m just glad it’s you driving it. Like I said yesterday, I always feel comfortable and safe around you, Logan.”

As your foot brushes against his under the table, Logan’s gaze meets yours. You flash him a shy smile, and before he can think twice, his foot instinctively strokes yours in return. A flicker of doubt crosses his mind—Is this the kind of thing people do on dates?—but your soft giggles melt away his hesitation. The lighthearted game continues until the arrival of your food.

You dig into your food, and a random thought crosses your mind. “Have you ever used your claws to cut your food?”

Logan pauses mid-bite, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “You know, in all of my two-hundred years of living, I’ve never really thought to try it.”

“Probably ‘cause you always have a knife around,” you say.

“Probably,” he smirks. With a glint in his eyes, he unsheathes his claws and the sound makes you jump slightly in your seat.

“Whoa,” you whisper, eyes widening in awe. Logan realizes you’ve never seen them before. Slowly, he extends his hand, the blades gleaming under the diner lights.

“Go ahead,” says Logan softly. “Just be careful.”

You reach out carefully, your fingers grazing the cool, polished metal. You’re both unusually quiet, your attention fully on each other.

Once you pull away, he turns back to his plate with a slight grin. “Okay, let’s see how this goes.”

With surprising finesse, he slices through his burger using his claws, the action both impressive and a little absurd to witness.

You burst into laughter, the sound contagious as he joins in. “Logan, I think you need to stop before you break the plate.”

He chuckles, retracting his claws and grabbing a sliced up chunk of his burger. “Yeah, probably a good idea. At least we know the answer to that question now.”

As you move on to dessert, you savor a slice of cheesecake while Logan indulges in a slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When he’s almost done, Logan takes a slow lick off his spoon and catches you staring at him.

“What’s on your mind, beautiful?” he asks with a playful smile, raising an eyebrow as he takes another bite of pie.

You scarf down the last few bites of your cheesecake before answering.

“Okay, I have to ask—” you lower your voice and lean in across the table “—can you actually smell how horny someone is?”

Logan freezes mid-chew, remembering what happened yesterday before you left.

“Fucking Wade…” he mutters, shaking his head. After a beat, he sighs. “Do I really have to answer that question?”

You gasp, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh, my God, you totally can…”

All Logan gives you is a brief laugh and a shake of his head. He fishes for his wallet, tosses some cash onto the table, and then stands up with a grin. “C’mon, gorgeous. Let’s get outta here.”

As he pulls you to your feet, you ask half suspiciously and half in jest, “Are you saying that because you can smell something or…?”

“Maybe, maybe not...” he teases. He grabs your hand, fingers intertwining with yours, and leads you to the door. “Either way, let’s head out. C’mon.”

As you step outside and Logan helps you with your helmet again, you look up at him with a different look this time than before—one that signifies that the night’s only beginning.

As you fumble with your keys in front of your apartment door, Logan steps in from behind and grips one side of your waist. He leans in, pulling you close, and kisses the crook in your neck. You inhale sharply, losing focus as you melt into his touch.

After you finally manage to unlock the door, Logan quickly shuts the door behind him before he presses you up against the wall. Initially, you share an intense kiss, but it soon becomes fervent and open-mouthed. Rough edges of his beard even brush against your lips at some points.

Both parties quickly kick off their shoes. He peels off his leather jacket and aids you with yours. Still lip-locked, he then lifts you up and has you wrap your legs around his waist; his evident desire presses against your body.

Logan drags your top off, his heated kisses trailing from your mouth, to your neck, and down to your clavicle. His mouth leaves love upon your breasts before he pushes your strapless bra down. You gasp as his push is so rough, the bra merely snaps off and falls away towards the floor.

But Logan doesn’t stop—he hones his attention towards your hardened tips, sucking and nipping with a fervor that makes him lose himself in you.

The moans that fill your entryway only drive him crazy further, along with your fingers tugging at his hair tightly. His hands are needy, kneading your other breast with a blend of tender and strength. After a moment, he pulls back, gently setting your legs back onto the floor.

He kisses his way down from your breasts to your stomach, dropping to his knees in front of you. Logan blinks up at you as he helps unbutton your jeans, pulling them and your panties off and tossing them aside. The sight of you, completely bare and vulnerable, only heightens his desire.

He kisses your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin as he moves towards your core. The scent of your arousal is unmistakable and intoxicating, but it’s the way your body reacts to him that drives him wild. Lifting one of your legs over his shoulders, he dives in without hesitation, his tongue exploring your wetness.

His tongue skillfully works over your most sensitive areas, each touch and flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Logan is so immersed in the moment, he feels like he's freefalling, lost in the intensity of it all.

The need to be inside you drives him to a point of near frenzy, his own body responding with instinctive thrusts. Each lick and suck against your folds is fuelled by both the need to make you feel good and to be desperately inside of you.

“Logan, Logan—”

You shatter and unravel for him, jerking your hips against his mouth. He holds you still, securing your orgasm rides out fully. Once you do, he stands up and kisses you gently, intermingling your taste with his tongue.

Dazed, you hook your fingers with a couple of his and lead him towards your bedroom. You lay yourself on the bed first, while he watches you as he strips his shirt and tank top. He sees the inflamed hunger in your eyes at the sight of his entirety.

Crawling over to you on the bed, his hands roam your body, caressing you passionately before the next part. When he finally undoes his jeans and belts and throws them aside, he looks at you intently.

“Do you have—?”

You shush him with a finger, whispering, “Just get inside me, Logan.”

A smirk spreads across his face as he aligns himself with your slit, teasing you slightly before sliding in. Being inside you draws out a low groan from him, while you throw your head back and expel a long moan.

When you finally acclimatize to his girth, he starts to thrust slowly and kisses you throughout. It’s so easy for him to lose control, to get this over and done with, but he wants to make sure it feels good for you as it does for him.

But it doesn’t help when your hands dig into his back and your walls clench harder around him.

“Faster, please,” you beg.

He checks in with a smug grin, cocking his head slightly. “You sure, gorgeous?”

You nod breathlessly, “Please, Logan.”

And that’s enough to make him lose all restraint. He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more intense and primal. His thumb circles your clit, and the combination of his hard thrusts and gentle touch brings you over the edge in unison. He ensures you’re satisfied first before he pulls out and marks you with his release.

Panting, he catches his breath, and grazes the back of his knuckles against your thigh. Logan turns to look at you. “You ready for round two, beautiful?”

You laugh with disbelief and exhilaration. “Wait, round two alr—?”

Logan cuts you off with a deep kiss, his grin wide and satisfied. He feels you smiling into his kiss, your excitement matching his own.

Oh yeah—he definitely could get used to this.

EPILOGUE — ONE WEEK LATER

Back at Wade, Logan, and Blind Al’s apartment during another weekend get-together, you’re seated next to Logan at the dining room table, caught up in a quiet conversation with him amidst the animated chaos around you.

Suddenly, Wade appears behind you, throwing his arms around you both and playfully squishing you together.

“Say ‘thank you, Mommy Wade for our beautiful dating life and we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and I’m gonna name our kid after you and—’”

“What the hell is happening?” you cut in, looking at your new boyfriend.

“Just ignore him, baby,” Logan groans, shaking his head.

“Already using terms of endearment? Y’all move fast,” Wade quips. “And is that any way to treat the person who got you two lovebirds together?”

“Hey, I helped too,” Laura interjects from Logan’s side.

Wade waves her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. You might’ve mentioned something here and there, but I saw the vision, and not Wanda’s, might I add.”

“I’m not gonna call you ‘Mommy Wade,’ but I will thank you.” You lean over and give him a quick peck on the cheek. He gasps theatrically and ruffles your hair with exaggerated affection. Times like these remind you why Wade has always been one of your closest friends.

“Well,” says Wade, as he steps back to return to his seat, “at least one of you appreciates Cupid Wade’s handiwork.”

Later, while you’re chatting with Yukio and Ellie, you notice out of the corner of your eye Logan and Wade exchanging glances across the room. Logan gives Wade a small, grateful nod.

“Thank you, Wade,” Logan mouths, his expression soft and sincere.

“Anytime, Wolvie,” Wade mouths back with a wink, raising his beer in a mock toast.

You catch Logan’s eye, and both of you share a smile that speaks more than words ever could.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fluff #logan howlett fluff #wolverine smut #logan howlett smut

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hypnagogics · 7 months ago

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before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable.

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord.

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her.

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.”

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away.

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip.

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman.

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.”

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?”

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense.

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-”

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both.

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times.

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place.

“holy shit.”

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 11 months ago

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DPXDC prompt. Adult!Danny x Sleep-deprived!Constantine: We seem to have a misunderstanding.

Warlock was willing to admit that the Phantom’s company was mostly useful and not unpleasant. Because of the specifics of his work they had to meet quite often. It was nice to be at least a little sure that you wouldn’t get stabbed in the back. The new ghost king seemed to be amused by the World of the Living and that was quite useful. In addition, the Infinite Realms had a history of endless conflicts with Hell, so when demons was messing with him, Phantom was happy to put sticks in their wheels.

However, the current enemy of the League was another alien. Both John and Phantom happened to be nearby. But it seems ghost had no reason to help Hellblazer now, as this fight had nothing to do with his kingdom. Given that Batman had explicitly instructed John to stay on the battlefield, it seemed that if John Constantine wanted to count on a weekend, he would have to use his trump card now.

Constantine: In view of the urgency of the situation, I would like to make a proposal. Life offers many challenges. I know I can meet them if you're willing to face them with me. In the spirit of saving time..[holding up a ring] This is for you. You in?

Phantom: I..I don’t know, John. I mean i want to say yes but It’s all so sudden. Please gimme some time to think, okay? And let me help to deal with these invaders first and then we’ll talk about it.

John: ..Sure?

~~~~~

Tucker: Whoa crazy battle dude. John: Civilians are not allowed here. Danny: It's all right. We were going to meet at a cafe, but now, well, there is no cafe. I mean, he's with me and not so civilian, okay?Ehem..John, meet my best friend Tucker. Tucker, meet my..Em, this is John, and he's kinda my John. It's new for us.

Damn. He was in a hurry and offered more than he should have. It turns out the ghost had an interest in protecting the city. It is unlikely that he would allow the destruction of the place where one of his humans lives.

And worst of all, Phantom did not accept the ring (for which John had to hunt for several months) as payment. Constantine got it specially in case he needed a favor or a way to calm the anger of the spirit he was starting to get along with. Like, really, John spent a fair amount to own the artifact which would have neutralized the consequences of wearing a ring of rage. But Ghost didn’t want it? Why? And yet he helped. So John was in debt.

And how it's all at a bad time. The peace treaty and the treaty of cooperation between the States and the Infinite Realms was concluded only recently. Of course John didn't even have time to discuss the terms of their deal because the blushing ghost flew away to fight but to say that he won't pay for the service is like admitting that you want to start a new conflict. Constantine was starting to have a headache. He'll think about it when he gets at least a couple of hours of sleep. Whatever payment the ghost needs, it can wait a couple of hours.

~~~~~

But as it turned out, the ghost couldn’t make up his mind and decide what he wanted from him. He started showing up at John’s place and looking at him thoughtfully, also recently dragged him to pick out a suit. How he could be mistaken for a stylist John did not understand but preferred not to unnerve a potential ally.

Moreover, for some reason the chaotic creature decided that he had the right to condemn John for always forgetting to have dinner or take a bath. This scoundrel dared to lock him in a bathroom with strange scented candles and colored water. Whatever these bath bombs were, dumb spirit failed to poison him but now John smelled like peaches. Disgusting.

After breaking down the door he found the same mess with candles on the kitchen table. Phantom fought a fierce battle with the green goo in the pot that he brought to John's house, but eventually gave up and they ordered delivery. All in all, it was a pleasant evening. Of course John didn't admit it but for some reason Danny decided that he could make such a mess every Friday.

~~~~~

Danny: So..me and Morningstar are friends now. Do you mind? I know you don’t get along very well. John: Why should I care? Your friends are your business. Considering you’re crazy about the stars I’m surprised you’re not sleeping with their maker.

Danny: Hell no, Lightbringer is great. And I’m glad he’s sharing with me what I wouldn’t find in books but I would never cheat on my partner. John: Good to know. (Wow, who knew the Phantom has a lover.)

~~~~~

Morningstar: I have no idea what you see in this arrogant man, stardust.

Phantom: I don’t know. It’s interesting to be around him. You never know what’s going to happen tomorrow. And his determination and sarcastic nature are really charming.

Morningstar: Well, I’ll get rid of some of his contracts for your wedding but only because I like you and not because I’m willing to deal with this liar.

Phantom: Thanks, Luci, you’re the best.

Morningstar:That’s true. But it's not free. I need you as a babysitter to keep Spawn busy while, well, Detective and I are busy.

Phantom: No problem :)

#dpxdc prompt #dpxdc crossover #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #have no idea what this ship name is.help?!#danny x constantine #dannyxconstantine

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enmie · 6 months ago

Text

*♡∞:｡.｡ Just a Nap ｡.｡:∞♡*

➶ bllk's Sae, Kaiser, Rin, and Shidou and their goofy selves try to make you prove your love

➶ they fake sleep and you carry them back to bed

➶ poll results. cw: cussing. insults. implied fem reader

𓅪 first bllk fic lesgoo

𓅪 this took three polls. THREE.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Sae Itoshi's

Each tick of the clock, each breath from your lips, each blink of your eye— you watched Sae's sleeping presence. He looked so peaceful you didn't dare disturb him, no matter how much of a trouble maker you were to him. There was something so off and comforting about his shallow breaths, in comparison to his usual stoic attitude, the one that pushes you away. But you stay anyway.

And he thinks he's such a little trickster.

Sae's eyelids flutter to to take a peek at what you were doing, his breathing shallow and soft to make the act convincing. Of course he's fake sleeping. He would never fall asleep in front of you.

He flinches. No, he doesn't jump, but he internally flinches when you attempt to stand him up from the couch, his one arm flung over your shoulder. It was one hell of a movie night, but every movie you watched was plain trash.

He could've spent the night practicing, yeah, but who was he to turn you down? All that's in his head now is fuck, fuck, fuck, I need to wake up—

— but everything's too good. He needs to know what happens next.

You struggled to lift him up. What was he, double your weight? You were tiny compared to this man, what the hell were you thinking trying to get him up? With a groan, you stand up, your weak knees trembling as you lift one side of his body, the other side hanging. But you notice he was on his feet. Maybe it was a reflex.

"Alrighty, let's get ya to bed," You say more to yourself than to him, each step excrutiatingly slow. Slow and shaky, your breath more ragged than his. Why were you even putting in this much effort?Effort wasted. Because you throw him onto the bed, hands on your knees as you panted. You thought he was a light sleeper, initially.

Vulnerability wasn't something he usually showed, yet here he was now, spread eagle on his twin-sized bed, hair in his face and his arm red from your tight hold. You did have a harder time.

And that's why you hated, hated him for opening his left eye, and he had his lips in a smug little smirk, that shitty bastard. You grumbled, throwing a pillow at him.

"What's wrong? You're surprisingly strong, y'know," He remarks, sitting up to fix his hair. Sae ran his fingers through the magenta strands, his eyes looking tired but accomplished.

"Lose some weight so I can carry you next time." You muttered angrily, sulky as you sat on the edge of his bed. "There's a next time?" He slips himself down the bed to sit next to you, gauging your reaction. And that goddamn smirk is still on his face, to the point where it seems his eyes are smirking, his ears are smirking, his cheeks, too. So annoying.

"Hopefully..."

"Not,"

"Yes,"

"No,"

"..."

"Fine." He eventually sighs. "I'll come over again, pendejo."

Michael Kaiser's

It was the first time you ever saw him asleep. Of course you wouldn't know this grown ass man still takes naps in the afternoon. The sun was up and blazing, glazing its color on Kaiser's undershirt, his muscles bare and exposed. You've never seen him like this, vulnerable, not teasing you, not absolutely annoying you. It was comforting in a way.

But Kaiser thinks he's such a clever man. He stifles a laugh, sensing how you're admiring his sleeping form, his fake sleeping form. He's supposed to be practicing with some people today, but he chooses to mess with you over anything else. It's just how he shows his love.

So it surprises him, really, when you start to stand up and grab his waist and back, supporting his body as much as you could. Were you really going to take him to his room? He lets out an audible groan, but keeps his eyes closed for convincing effect.

With every step you take, he drags his feet across the wooden floor, your grunts loud and strained. Why does he have to be so heavy?

You immediately let go of Kaiser once he was in his room, collapsing the supposedly sleeping body on the mattress.

Then this jerk starts laughing. Boisterously. Disturbingly. Honestly, you feel so shocked that you could only blink slowly and process everything that's happening, the man you thought was sleeping was laughing so hard it pisses you off.

"Jerk!" You exclaim. "Oh, you're such a comedian! You really do love me!" He says, sitting up to see that reaction he found so cute. "I was helping you, fucking bastard,"

"That's me," He says confidently, flexing his bicep. And it annoys you.

"Now, if you excuse me, I got to practice," He stands up, getting dizzy at the sudden adjustment. But before he even leaves, he wobbles to the drawer unexpectedly, pulling out a face towel with cute rubber ducks on it. "Here, saviour. For your sweat."

"I really can't tell if you're trying to be nice or pissing me off," You groan, wiping your forehead and your sweaty neck.

He looks at you with some sort of... admiration, in his eyes. And he laughs again, softer and more genuine this time. "I think you should come watch me practice." You roll your eyes. "After I tore all my muscles carrying you? You wish, asshole,"

Kaiser's never felt this way. Why was he finding your anger so cute? He puts on his jersey for practice, his long hair getting snugly stuck underneath the neckline. So you go and untuck it, getting dangerously close to this man.

Yeah. He thinks he's in love.

"You're so damn small, it must have been a miracle when you carried me here," He whispers. Kaiser doesn't whisper. He yells. A lot.

"Miracle, me?"

"... Yeah, you."

Rin Itoshi's

One turn of a head, and he's fast asleep? That was so unlikely of him, you think. Because, you're talking about Rin Itoshi here, asleep, beside you, so close you could feel the faint pitter patter of his heart and the even fainter breath. So deep into that slumber you felt bad even thinking of waking the striker up.And he doesn't usually mess with people.

But he wants to see that reaction that he finds ever-so-slightly, cute. When you scrunch up your nose in frustion, your eyebrows furrowed and your eyelids low. He loves it. It's one of the only things he finds himself looking for in every living moment he spends. But he doesn't quite know why, why he adores your long hair and every curve of your body he longs to touch.

He's cute, too. But Rin doesn't know that. Only you do. Or, at least, you're convinced you're his biggest fan, his best-est friend, or even something along the lines of.

That's why— he's currently trying to peek at you, while also trying to keep pretending he's asleep. Oh! He shuts his eyes tightly, once you turn to look at him. No, no, if he gets caught without saying it himself, it'll be embarrassing. So maybe... maybe he should just come clean already, and—

Panic, panic, panic.

You can hear his breath hitch softly and his eyelashes flutter faintly. Maybe he just does that. You take him by the arm, throwing it around your neck and over your shoulder to take him to his room, to let the pretty boy fall asleep. And oh, how you struggled.

But Rin thinks he's struggling more, trying desperately to stop himself from getting too flustered at the proximity he didn't expect. He makes himself lighter so you didn't have a harder time. He'd usually weigh himself down purposefully, or not fake sleep at all, but he found himself acting different around you.

Not too different. Only... less indifferent. You were more tolerable than the rest.

So once he plops down onto the bed, free from your helping grip, he feels this longing. This yearning. Your touch was too much for him, and now he wants more and more and more. You begin walking away, deciding to let him sleep, but—

"Sorry." Your head snaps in his direction. You'd almost gotten whiplash.

"Huh?! What happened to your sleeping ass?" Still half-lidded, Rin fiddles with the hem of his sweater, avoiding all form of eye contact with you. He just tricked you. And he was guilty. So unlike him. "I wasn't asleep."

You cross your arms with a smirk on your face, oh you knew well. That look on his cute face says it all, that he enjoyed how you were nice enough to accompany his heavy weight up the stairs and into his bedroom.

"You act better than I thought," You tell him. He just hums in agreement, coming back to his original attitude.

"Little trickster."

And when he looks up at you— oh, you think you're about to fold.

"I know."

Ryusei Shidou's

He's snoring loudly, smiliarly to an old man. Damn this boy. Was he serious or was he serious? You think it's very Ryusei Shidou of Ryusei to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, because not even ten minutes into the topic of leopards, he's passed out, his head facing the side. No wonder the idiot's snoring.

But it's all an act.

Ryusei is wide awake. He may have underestimated how hard closing his eyes for more than a milisecond was, but he is more than determined to see if you'd kiss him with a true love's kiss. Like a fucking Disney princess.

You groaned, standing up with your hands on your hips. You theorize that he's fake sleeping, since there's a goddamned smirk on his face, but you believe it anyway. "Holy shit, you fell asleep, you asshole." With a sigh, you decide to snap a photo of him before deciding to be a nicer bitch for once.

He accidentally opens his eyes and groans when you start lifting him up, but closes them tightly as to keep the act up. Where were you taking him? Upstairs? Ryusei hears your grunts as you desperately try to grab him. He falls back on you anyway, his back pressing against your chest and tensing up. Not like you felt it.

"Alrighty, here we go," This man is eighty percent muscle mass, and you were attempting to carry him?

Get this, he was so comfortable despite your struggle, that he actually falls asleep. For what seems like a mere split second, his breath shallows and his snores get quieter, and his muscles relax on you. You're confused.

The floorboards creak with every step you took, dragging the blonde by his waist weakly. Maybe if he didn't go to the gym so much. With a grunt, you throw him on the bed feeling strained as hell. "Fuck you, honestly."

Walking to the edge of the bed, you pull out your phone to see the picture, and there's this laughter. His laughter. You sigh as you shake your head, knowing your first thought was right after all. He wasn't really sleeping.

"What? Had a hard time?" Ryusei teases, the volume of his laughter baffling you. "Shut up."

"No, no, I'll sleep, I'll sleep," He makes a snoring sound again, but not before laughing his ass off. You're extremely annoyed. You regret being nice. But, you have to admit it, his laugh did bring a smile to your face, in some weird way.

He sits up to peek at your phone not-so-sneakily, chorting. "Ya even took my pic!"

You squeak, and find Ryusei immediately at your side, looking at his fakely asleep self on your phone. His hand is on your waist instinctively, as he stares with that smile, that grin you used to hate. But you love it now.

"You're so obsessed with me," He says. "You gonna make it a wallpaper like a lovesick simp?"

Turning your head and smirking, he blushes. Yeah, he might just be into every other girl, but you're the only one who made him blush that much.

"Maybe so,"

"... Fuck you."

ⒺⓃⓂⒾⒺᛌⓈ bllk fanfic

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agere-fics · 4 months ago

Text

Pretty Kitty

pairing: cg!logan howlett x little!reader

word count: 683

content warnings: cursing, usage of "daddy" and "dada", mean guy judging both you and wolvie

summary: you paint logan's nails!

@sleepyboy-stuff you seemed interested in this so i tagged you!

♡

For years in the making, an after battle nap became routine. He couldn't just nap anywhere, though. It had to be on brown, leather couch in the x-mansion living space. The couch was old, worn, tattered, even blown up a few times. But damn if it didn't lead to the best sleep Logan's had in ages.

He wouldn't consider himself a light sleeper but something definitely triggered his consciousness. Shuffling, movement, soft mumbles. Someone was here.

He groaned and squinted his eyes open, tensing at the blurry figure next to him. He shifted away from it quickly. Who would even dare to- oh.

"Don't move, daddy, you'll mess up my artwork!" you whined.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Logan wasn't under attack. It was simply his sweet little bub kneeling beside the couch, holding his hand and painting red onto the nail of his pinky finger.

"Hey, bub." he muttered.

You turned to look at him with bright, sparkling eyes. You were so happy to see him. "Have a good nap, daddy?"

"You know it." he rumbled.

Your eyes shifted back to your task at hand. You brushed a bit more red onto his pinky finger, trying very hard not to get polish on his skin. Daddy wouldn't care but you knew you would care. It's got to be perfect for daddy!

"Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Making daddy a pretty kitty." You picked up his limp hand and showed him your work so far. Logan didn't mind the nickname. He liked anything you gifted him.

However, he did quirk his brow at a certain implication. "Wait a minute, I thought you said I was already pretty?" A sliver of a smile poked through his serious facade. He can't actually be serious with you, you're way too cute for him to be all grumpy, wumpy. You've got him tied around your finger and he's a-okay with that.

"Wait but you are, daddy! You are! I'm just uhhhhh...." You looked around the room, aimlessly searching for an answer. "OH, I'm making you even prettier! The mostest prettier ever!"

The sliver of a smile turned into a full grin. He sat up and observed his now painted hand. "What colors did you use?" He wouldn't be your daddy if he didn't test your knowledge just a little bit.

"I used some red and pink and blue, oh and orange, and only a little yellow cause it's basically empty, see?" You turned the bottle upside down and shook it before tossing it to the side. "Do you like your nails, daddy?"

Logan lifted his hand, moving it this way and that. Up, down, left, right, sideways, up ways, down ways, more ways. You patiently waited for his approval with wide eyes. "Of course, I do, pumpkin. It's perfect."

You pulled him closer by his shirt, jutted your lip, lowered your brows, and squinted your eyes. With your other hand you pointed at him very sternly. It took everything in Logan to not coo at your cutely angry expression. Your face was scrunched, just like your daddy does sometimes. "Never take it off, daddy."

"Don't worry," he giggled. "I won't."

"What's happening here?" came a voice.

Mr. Butern... the professor of mutation genetics. When did he get here? "Turning into a pretty little princess, huh, Logan?" he scoffed and began to walk away.

Logan moved quickly and shoved the professor against the wall. His claws came out to play, pricking at the meanie's neck.

"Say another word and I will slice your fucking head off-"

"Daddy, that's a bad word!" you scolded.

Your daddy turned to face you. "Apologies, pumpkin." He turned back round. "Now, you tell my little one how good of a job they did."

The other guy stuttered, shaking so bad he must be a milkshake inside. "You d-did a good j-job."

Daddy dragged him to the tattered couch and shoved him down. "Sit your ass down."

Daddy's face immediately went from angry to mushy mush as he looked at you. "Bub, I think you should give him a makeover, too."

"Right on it, Dada!"

♡

#cg!logan howlett #cg!logan #cg!wolverine #age regression #agere #sfw agere #age regressor #agere blog #agere little #agere sfw #agere fanfic #little reader #xmen agere #agere xmen #agere logan howlett #caregiver logan howlett #logan howlett agere #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett

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shutit-haha · 1 year ago

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"Katsuki," you swayed, "I think I might have been roofied."

"What!?" He gives himself whiplash from how fast he turns, neck cracking and muscles giving a slight pull. The two of you are in some damn frat house because someone invited you and you REALLY wanted to go. Knowing full well that you would stay here for an hour tops, half-hour if everything was already in full swing. This was certainly knew though, I mean 45 minutes in and you've been ROOFIED!

"I said," you leaned against him. Closing your eyes and attempting to take deep breaths even though those very same breaths seemed to make it feel worse. "Sorry Kat," you grabbed at him tightly with your hand. "My stomach's getting all swirly."

He goes into full fucking panic mode. His large hands wraps around your arm a little too tightly dragging you into the crowd with him. He's moving like a fucking linebacker just shoving whoever's in his way. The blonde takes a sharp left turn around a corner yanking you into a hallway with him. The lights here are shut off making it damn near pitch black. His shoulder slams into strangers making out and dry humping and the two of you cringe at the moans that come from the many bedrooms. The floor underneath your feet is sticky, and with the way you feel right now it's a fight just to rip yourself off the wood. Your muscles feel heavy, eyes barely open. The world keeps swirling and spinning, bright colors popping out at you even in the darkness. There's this terrible throbbing between your legs, making your thighs tremble slightly.

"Kat," you whine. He kicks open the bathroom door throwing out the couple currently occupying the space.

"Yea," he gently guides you over to the toilet bowl. "Wait actually don't fucking touch anything in here, it's all disgusting. Bastards don't know how to fuckin act." He's tugging you out into the hallway again, the couple from just a few seconds ago scurrying back in.

"Katsuki," your legs are struggling to keep up. You feel weak in the knees, stumbling over yourself as a result. Your hearing comes and goes, a war between absolute silence and migraine inducing noise. "Bakugo I can't," air escapes you in huffed breaths. "I can't keep up, please," you beg him.

The blonde -still rushing for a reason you don't understand anymore- scoops you up in his arms. "I'm gonna get that shit out of your system, and kill that asshole. Fuckin scum, piece of shit doesn't deserve to walk the earth." He grumbles clutching on to you even tighter. Your brain is so fuzzy you giggle at his silly words. "What," he looks down at you for a quick second.

"Hot, Kat. Tired," you yawn. Moving with large strides Bakugo carries the two of you out of the fraternity. You shiver the moment the cool air hits your sweating skin. "Cold," you whine curling into him and wrapping tightly around his neck. The poor man chokes with the grip you've got him in. How the hell is he expected to breath in a condition like this?! Not only that but you're pressed flush against him with the way you've twisted yourself around.

"HAH, didn't you jus' fuckin say you where hot?!"

"I'm hot on the inside Katsuki," you screech and wail. You say it like it's common knowledge and it kills him a little. "Wait," your hands fly outward. "I got throw up." The man damn near drops you, only half careful of how he's handling you. Your feet hit the ground and you bend at the ankles and then knees. Just as you're situated it all hurls itself back up. It's ok though, because he's here to hold back your hair for you.

"Gotta get your dumbass home," he mumbles under his breath. You whine bringing your hand up to your mouth to wipe away the mess, only for Bakugo to grab at your wrist. "Don't you fuckin' dare, that shit's gross."

"How am I supposed to clean myself," you look up at him with big blown pupils. Your lashes leave long shadows on your face from the streetlight, lips puffy from whatever drug was forced into your system. There's water lining the bottom of your eyes, a result from emptying your guts, and you're still so hot.

"Just hold on a minute, dammit." His head whips around in search of something, though to no one's surprise there's not much to clean with on the front lawn. His eyes fix onto the door, resignation settling in. "Don't you fucking move from here," he points down at you aggressively. "Do you understand?"

You nod absentmindedly, hand coming up to your mouth once again.

"Don't do that shit! Just sit still dammit, I'll be right back." He hates having to run back into that fucking mess of a party. It reeks worse than it did before, the odor much more noticeable after breathing in some fresh fucking air. He fears that if he makes the wrong step he'll roll his ankle from the sticky floor, and then theirs all the bodies. These jiggling, sweaty bodies, in sync and yet still so far off beat. He's quick, bulldozing through all those extras to get to where he's going. You've been fucking drugged by one of these damn creeps and part of Bakugo worries that they'll find you while you're all alone out there.

"Katsuki," big gooey smile, when he emerges back outside. A shiver racks through him, the cold catching him off guard. He immediately steels himself right afterward determined not to let it happen again. "Katsuki," you sing, "kat-suki, suki, kat. kat, suki," you giggle and then smile. You're clearly out of your damn mind, body rocking back and forth while your hands grip onto your ankles tightly. You look like a fucking kindergartener, at the thought of that he snorts.

"Here," he throws the whole paper towel roll at you.

"Thank yoou," more singing, and an even bigger grin.

He only spares you a couple seconds to clean yourself before he's yanking you up onto your feet. The rough skin of his hand wraps around your elbow, and you stumble right into his side. The roll is hugged close to your buddy like some sort of stuffed animal, thighs pressed together tightly. "Can you carry me again?" Your eyes fall shut sleepily, cheek resting against his hard shoulder.

"Hah!?"

"Please," your hip presses against his now. "Please, I'll kiss you if you'll do it for me."

"Don't say that shit," his cheeks dust pink like a school boy.

You giggle, "I'll kiss you even if you don't pick me up." Paper towel roll still pressed against your chest, you lean into him lips grazing under his jaw. "I wanna kiss you," you hum breathing in his scent.

"Don't say that shit!"

"But I wanna kiss someone," you whine.

"Someone?"

"Anyone," you kiss the flesh at his jaw and neck.

"That shit's getting to you."

You nod absentmindedly again, placing another kiss on his warm skin. "Mhm, I think so."

"I'm taking you home," he bends at the knees slightly begrudgingly picking you up.

"Mmmm," you hum, "I like the sound of that."

He squeezes your thighs harshly receiving a slight hiss from you. "Gotta fucking behave if I'm gonna be doing this shit for you. Not gonna fucking baby you for you to be a brat."

Your arms wrap around his neck bringing yourself as close to him as possible. That damn paper towel roll still smooshed between the two of you. "Does that mean you're gonna punish me?" It was said so innocently, still made his cock twitch.

"Don't say that shit," he growls at you, jostling your body as a way of adjusting himself.

"I'm sorry," you kiss his neck, "I'm sorry."

"Don't do that shit either."

"But," you grind against his abs, "I need to feel something."

"Not me! Take care of yourself later," the thought of you touching yourself quickly popped into his head. Once again he was jostling you to adjust his pants.

"You feel so good," another innocent comment as you grind yourself against him.

"What's I say about behaving," he snaps at you.

"But you said to take care of myself."

"Later!"

"Are you gonna punish me now?"

Thank god the car was coming into view. "Oi! I'll fucking drop you!" He hakes his head, "the hells your obsession with that shit."

You shrug, "like how your hands feel on my ass." Another kiss to his neck, and then your hips jolt on their own grinding against his hard abs. This time you just can't stop yourself, the pit of your stomach feels like it's on fire and the way your muscles are contracting- you just have to. You need too.

"Hey," some part of his subconscious had clearly been paying attention to you. The part about his hands, and the punishment, because his hand came up and then down in one sudden slap. You could hear it whoosh in the air, and then that crackle when it met your rear. You stilled, moaning and arching your back. He nearly fucking dropped you, the one hand holding you completely unprepared for that hell of an arch.

"Fuck," you panted. Your lips kissed a trail up his neck and then nipped the skin behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry d-" You bit your lip, suppressing what so desperately wanted to be said.

He fucking dropped you.

Your legs where shaky, knees buckling soon as your feet hit the floor. You expected to fall onto your knees just like you did on the lawn, but he slammed you up against the car. Your back roughly hit the metal, one hand keeping your hip trapped against it, the other hand keeping hold of your wrist. "You're driving me fucking crazy you know that," he spat in your face. His breath fanned against your skin, eyes burning. "I have no clue what that fucker gave you but-"

You kissed him, hips wiggly in his hand in search of friction. He bit your bottom lip, teeth sinking into plush, your back arched. "Fuck me, please. Please just fuck me, swear I'll stop after that. It'll make it stop just fuck me please just-"

He leaned back in, mouths smashing together, teeth clinking just before he forces his tongue in catching a taste of your mouth. Aphrodisiac, "bastard gave you a fucking rape drug."

You shake your head, hips wiggling with more vigor. "No want it," you breath heavily, "want it."

He shoves you aside, opening the passenger door for you, "just the drug."

"No," you're crying now. Hand venturing down to your waist band to give yourself some kind of relief. "Want you," you bite your lip when your hand grazes your clit. "I-" pant, "want you." All your weight is held up by the car, eyes shut to better see the fantasies. "Fuck," you groan.

He doesn't know what to do, he's kind of just watching you. It feels gross, feels wrong but, fuck he likes it. Mouth agape while you fuck yourself to him. It's not real. He's gonna wale up. It's just a wet dream, a movie.

"Wanted you since-" gulp, "that compression shirt, at the- at the gym." You whimper at that, "sweat, nipples were hard." Your eyes open all half lidded and hazy, pupils having consumed whatever color was once there. Your sclera isn't even visible anymore. "You're such a whore," as if your fucking pussy wasn't literally squelching right now.

That was it for him, you weren't gonna fucking insult him like that. As if you were some fucking saint. Yeah, right. He slams the passenger door shut, the back door flying open followed by him quickly shoving you into the car. Your back bounces on the leather seats, one hand quickly rushing to yank down your pants and underwear. The burly man climbs in right after you moving with quick hast, he shuts the door behind him with another loud slam.

"Keep that fucking mouth shut," hand squeezing a the sides of your throat. He's fucked once or twice, never like this. In the back of his car, cock aching, in such a hurry. With the way you were acting it seems like it's only take a couple strokes before you tapped out, you had already been edging yourself in a way. (I mean with you grinding and whatever else and him stopping you every other five seconds.)

He unbuttons his jeans, briefly thinking about turning on the air-conditioning only to decide against it. Fuck it, let the windows fog up. (That'd be new too.) Katsuki doesn't even unzip his pants he just tugs at the sides and forces the zipper to go down itself. You brely catch a glimpse of his boxers before those too are tugged down his muscled thighs. Damn gym rat.

He rudely slaps away the hand you have between your legs, only to smack his dick against your clit. "Condom," you mutter.

"Didn't I say to shut up," it's a nasty snarl, yet still you have the balls to smile at him.

"Please," you spread your legs for him.

"Didn't bring one," fuck please don't tell him this is what's gonna cock block him. He'll fucking destroy this car with the amount of anger that wants to blow. Yet you ever so seductively reach into your bra and pull one out.

"Here." You take it between your teeth tearing at the packaging while he pumps himself. You pass it over to him, the wrapper gracefully falling somewhere underneath the seat, condom rolled on in a blink. No prep, just his dick getting shoved into you.

It's a stretch, a painful, hissing stretch. Your tugging at his shirt pulling it off of him while you adjust, his hands sliding up and under to unhook your bra. "Move," it's a command, an order. And despite his big fucking ego, he listens to you. One large hand placed next to your head, the either forcing your shirt up as it ghost over your body. Your scratching at his back, and rubbing his scalp. It's an odd combo of pain and pleasure for the both of you as a result. "More," you're shouting now, "more," you gasp.

"Take your shirt off," his voice is gravelly and out of breath. The hand once fondling with your breast is now gripping under your thigh. It's pushing your legs up and up and up, till they're resting right on top of his strong shoulders. Your pussy clenches around him upon feeling the muscle moving under your legs. His mouth comes down to suck your right nipple, eyes staring dead into yours.

Fuck you're cuming, quick with his name on your tongue. "Not fuckin' done," he groans, grinding into you with another thrust. "Don't even think about movin' didn't-" He hisses, "fuck, didn't get to cum yet." Another grind and then he's bringing a calloused finger to your clit.

"Katsuki..."

"Yeah baby," it's low and husky, drawing more slick from you.

"Was lying about the condom." He gives you a harsh thrust at that, clearly fucking pissed. "Don't give a shit about it," he nearly pulls all the way out to slam back in. "Just wanted to-"

"Get to the fuckin' point," other hand squeezing at your throat.

"Want you to come in me," you're fucking yelling. "Please," begging.

"Fuck baby, that's enough to make me come on the spot."

You whine at that, "no."

"No?"

"No, please. Inside please."

He pulls out, smirking when he sees how your walls clench around the empty space. "Missing me," he teases rolling off the condom carelessly dropping it onto the floor. In a snap he's back in, three strokes and then he's gone.

The liquid is fucking hot, it's scorching. You wanna taste, wish you would have gotten the chance to. The thought of that has your walls fluttering and coming a second time. Your eyes are all dazed and glossy, hair sticking to your neck and forehead. Carefully Katsuki pulls your shaking legs off his shoulders, while your hand reaches up to push his hair out of your face. "Fuck you're a brat," your lip tint smeared all over his lips.

It makes you smile all soft and gooey. "I'm tired now."

He snorts, pulling your underwear back onto you. "'Course you are," he tugs on his boxers and jeans. "Don't let any of that shit spill out you understand me?" He's pointing at you, face back to that scowl. You nod, pulling your pants back on. The both of you tug on your shirts, he moves to the front while you remain laying in the back. You find a sweater of his and tug it on while he starts the car, rolling down the windows to air the thing out.

"We're doing that shit at least one more time," he says pulling the car out of park.

"You're place or mine," you smile at him through the rearview mirror.

#x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #college au #aphrodisiac #afab reader #smut #reader insert #unprotected sex

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lostbookmark · 3 months ago

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MDNI 🔞

Main Masterlist here

WHISPERED VOWS MASTERLIST here

Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.

Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader

Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort

Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family, Arguments, Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Unprotected Sex, Yoongi Overworking, Reader Needs To Speak Up,

SMUT !

The smell that hit you as soon as you and Lisa walked into the flower shop earlier had hit you like a ton of bricks. It was a mix of sweet floral, citrus, a powdery smell that you couldn't identify, and damp earth that permeated through the main room that caused you to scrunch your nose in distaste. You think that flowers are pretty to look at, of course, but you prefer to do that from far away. You hate the smell of them, and all the different scents coming at you all at once are almost nauseating. You never understood why people always smell them or always give them as a gift. What better way to show someone you love them than buying them something that will eventually die. It just seems sad.

“How much do people usually spend on flowers?” You ask the florist who was walking around with you showing you the large varieties of blooms that she had in the store.

“Well, that's hard to say,” she says, looking at you with kind eyes. “It all depends on how many you want and what exactly you want to use them for. I would say a standard wedding will roughly cost about 3,000 dollars . If you want to add a grounded arch or have flowers that line your aisle. Are you going to have them as centerpieces at the reception? How many bouquets? Boutonnieres? All that will raise the price.”

You swallow thickly at her answer. For a 3,000 plus dollar estimate, they better last until your first anniversary and not be dead within the first week of buying them. The very few times that you have had flowers or plants for that matter, you have always forgotten to water them. They just ended up a brown wilted mess in a vase by a window that you would eventually throw away once you stopped being lazy.

Your stomach twists and turns anxiously as you look at the different bundles of flowers displayed in buckets and vases throughout the room as you contemplate the price that she told you. Walking around, you look at the roses in various colors, white orchids, pink peonies, rare flowers, and flowers flown in from different countries that you have never heard of. Why do they need flowers from different countries? They probably did it so they could charge more, and you also know people are more than willing to pay that price. It seems like such a waste, especially all for one day. All of this for just one day.

The pretty florist is staring at you with a patient smile, and you gently reach out to touch a hyacinth. It makes you tilt your head as you stare at them. Yeah, you don’t know how to pronounce that. You turn your attention back to her and give her an awkward smile. You can't tell her that you hate flowers and you definitely don't want to spend that much money on them. You don't want to offend anyone. She seems really nice.

“Yeah, so, thanks for your time. It was quite educational,” Lisa says cheerfully with a fake smile on her face. She plucks a card from the counter before waving goodbye. “We will be in touch. We have a lot to think about with all these beautiful options. Have a beautiful day!”

Linking your arm into hers, Lisa walks you out of the floral shop. You take a deep breath of the cold, crisp, fresh air that hits your face in hopes of calming the nerves inside of you. You can’t justify spending this much money on flowers. Do they know how many bills you can pay with 3000 dollars? How can people just throw away money like this? You dared not to even tell your mom about this trip. She probably would have wanted the flowers from a different country. She would have wanted them to be in crystal vases sitting at every table at the reception. She would have wanted whatever the ground arch was.

“You know,” Lisa says as she stops walking and stares at you over the hood of her car. “When I get married, I want roses. Hundreds of beautiful, deep red roses on every surface available, including my honeymoon suite, but that's just me…not you. You don't have to have flowers at all if you don't want them. Yoongi doesn't seem like a flower guy anyway.”

“What about the bouquets that we have to hold?” you ask. “Wouldn't it look weird if we weren't holding onto anything?”

“Sweets, we can make them with fake flowers. People probably wouldn't even be able to tell the difference,” Lisa answers. “With Pinterest and a hot glue gun, I can be unstoppable. I won't let you down.”

You start to laugh at her, finally feeling at ease, and she joins in. Thanks to Lisa, you think you can officially cross flowers off your list.

The noodles in the togo container from Yoongi's favorite restaurant are starting to burn your hands as you hurry down the hall to his studio. One of the things that has been worrying you is that Yoongi is not eating when he works like he does. He thinks it's okay to run on two hours of sleep a night, and a cup of coffee is enough fuel to get him through the day. As passive as you are trying to be at the moment, you can not let him do this to himself. You will not let him starve himself for the sake of his work.

Upon entering the familiar studio and kicking off your shoes, you see that he is asleep on his back with his arm thrown over his eyes on the couch as music faintly drifts from the abandoned headphones on his desk. You shut the door as slowly and quietly as you can without waking him up. The room is a bit darker than normal, so you move extra carefully so you don't knock into any equipment that was strewn around the floor. You place the noodles quietly on his small table in front of the couch and wave your burning fingers in the air, trying to soothe the slight burn. Looking around, you quickly find a piece of unused paper on his desk to leave a quick note for him. Your butt barely hits his chair when his voice makes you jump slightly.

“Baby?” his tired voice was deep and raspy.

“Sorry, I tried to be quiet. I brought you some food. It's noodles from your favorite restaurant,” you tell him with a sigh, putting the paper back where you found it. You no longer needed to leave him a note after failing your mission.

Yoongi doesn't answer. Instead, he holds his arms open, an invitation to join him. You climb over his body and onto the couch beside him. He situates himself onto his side, trapping you between his body and the back of the leather couch. Your face is buried in his chest with his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You can feel the steady rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against your face. You wonder if he fell back to sleep, but you don't want to move to find out. Closing your eyes, you contemplate drifting off with him as you let your body relax.

“Thank you,” he says suddenly, kissing the top of your head. “Any wedding updates? More million dollar venues?” he jokes.

“No. Lisa and I went to a florist on my lunch break. I discovered that I really don't like the way flowers smell, and they are just as expensive as the venues,” you tell him, and you can feel his chest shake with laughter. “It's all just a lot of money to spend on one day.”

“Most people like the way they smell,” he informs you. “I told you not to stress out over the cost.”

“They stink, and I can’t help it,” you complain. “Are you okay if we skip the flowers?”

“That's perfectly fine,” he says as his hand runs through your hair. He opens one eye and looks down at you. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I…I don't want a lot of guests there either.”

“Me neither,” he admits. “I don't have to invite industry people. Your mom doesn't know what she is talking about.”

“So, maybe a venue that holds like…50?” You ask him hopefully. “I came across a small winery online. It looked really pretty and they have availability for our date.”

“Perfect,” he whispers, looking at you.

“How do you know it's perfect? You haven't even seen it,” you ask with a small smile.

“If you like it, then it's perfect,” he tells you.

Yoongi reaches under your chin, tilting your face up to him. Leaning down, he presses his mouth firmly to yours. You internally sigh at the feeling of his lips against your own. You miss the kisses like these. Those lingering kisses that you never want to end. The ones that are filled with so much emotion that they make you weak in the knees. The ones that make you feel safe. The ones that make you remember how much you love him. How much you miss….him.

Yoongi changes position on his couch. Laying you back, he lays himself on top of you. His body presses you further into the cushions as he balances himself on his forearm. His free hand wanders down your leg that is clad in black tights that you wore under your skirt.

“Of all days that you had to wear these,” he says, pinching the black material and pulling them away from your leg only for them to snap back in place. “Can I take them off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, but your eyes glance to the door nervously. The embarrassment of last time still lingers in your mind. It would be just your luck. Jimin would walk in on you again or worse….Jungkook.

“No one else knows the code,” he chuckles, placing his face into your neck and licking a wet stripe up to your ear, making your breath hitch before lightly biting at your lobe. “We won't be interrupted.”

Sitting up on his knees between your legs, Yoongi's hands travel up under your skirt, grabbing the top of your tights. Lifting your hips, you help him out as he carefully pulls them over your ass and down your legs. He finishes by slipping them over your feet and tossing them on his table by the forgotten food container that you brought in for him. He turns his head back to look at you laid out before him and just drinks you in.

“Yoongi?” you question quietly.

“I'm just looking at my beautiful fiancée,” he whispers. “My future wife.”

He smiles at you and leans down, pressing his mouth against yours again. Your arms go around his shoulders, holding him close to you as his tongue slips into your mouth as it twists and twirls with your own. Pulling away from your mouth, Yoongi rests his head against your forehead. His eyes stare directly into yours.

“Let me just please you and….we will see what happens,” he says softly and looks away from you quickly. You think that he is embarrassed.

“We don't have to do anything,” you say, trying to comfort him. “I know you're tired. Your sleep is more important than this.”

“No, I miss this so much,” he says quietly and kisses you again desperately as his tongue delves in for another taste of your mouth. “I miss the way you feel,” he pulls away to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “I miss the way you taste,” a kiss to your jaw. “God, I miss the way you sound,” a kiss to your neck. “Please, baby.”

You nod your head yes, and he finally slithers his way down, your body dropping to his knees on the floor with a light thump. Yoongi flips your skirt up and hooks his fingers into your underwear, pulling them down over your now bare legs, exposing you to his gaze. He stuffs the thin material into his back pocket and smirks at you. You don't even want to know what he will do with them if he doesn't give them back. The thought makes you blush a little bit.

“It will have to be quick,” you inform him with a teasing voice as he kisses the inner side of your knee. “My boss won't like me wasting company time.”

“I think he won’t care….at all,” he smirks at you and moves up to nip at your inner thigh. “In fact, I think that he just might even encourage this. Mandatory once a week now.”

Diving between your legs, Yoongi doesn't waste any time. Using his hand to spread you open, his tongue starts licking at your opening hungrily. His hot breath fans over your exposed core, making you squirm around on his couch. Yoongi places your legs over his shoulders and then slowly moves his hands up your body. He reaches up and gently grabs at your covered chest. Palming at your breasts the best he could over your clothes. You arch your chest up into his touch as you grab the back of your knees, bringing them up and closer to your body. Opening yourself up more for him.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper as his tongue finally pays attention to your bundle of nerves flicking it back and forth. “It feels g..go…good.” You stammer.

He moans around you as he sucks it into his mouth. You let go of your right knee to push his dark hair out of his eyes before pulling his head closer to your core despite the fact that he was already as close as he could get. You bite your bottom lip as he stares up at you. The look of undying love and adoration is still there in those lust blown brown orbs. Even though you want to question it at times, it's still there. Yoongi suddenly pulls away with a surprised and slightly dazed look on his face. You follow his line of sight as he looks down at himself. His sweatpants do nothing to hide the hardness that is there.

“Fuck, yeah,” he says with a pump of his fist.

You would have laughed at him, but you are just as excited as he is. Yoongi doesn't even bother to undress, so you stay exactly how you are as well. Instead, he opts to just pull his pants down to his knees and hike up his white t-shirt before positioning himself back on the couch between your spread legs. Taking himself in his hand he slaps his cock against your pussy that's still coated in his saliva a couple of times before he dips the head of his cock into you shallowly before pulling back out.

“Fuck, I have I neglected you that much?” he hisses at the tightness that he pulled away from. You don't bother answering because you both know the answer.

He licks his fingers before letting them gently enter you. Twisting and opening you up as he prepares you for his intrusion that you haven't had in so long. However, you needed him, and you didn't want to wait any longer. You reach for his hardness and gently pull him back to you. You push at his wrist and line him up as he removes his fingers. You stare up at him in anticipation, desperation in your eyes, chest moving up and down rapidly. He raises an eyebrow at you, and you nod your head at his silent question.

“It's okay,” you whisper and run your hand up and down the front of his body.

“Are you sure?” He asks breathlessly.

You bite your lower lip and nod your head. Yoongi groans, taking himself back in his hand, and pushes back into you slowly. Even in his neediest moments, he is gentle with you. You hear him take a deep breath and exhale slowly when he bottoms out in you. His eyes are closed tight, and his body feels quite tense. You experimentally roll your hips against his, and he gasps out. You think you might enjoy seeing him like this. Like he will come undone any single moment.

“Don't move yet,” he whispers brokenly. “I need a moment. I can't ever wait this long again.”

“Yoongi, it's okay,” you say again. Pulling him down, your lips meet his. Your tongue sneaks its way between his lips, making the kiss deeper, needier. You smile at him as you pull away. “Fuck me.” you whisper.

With a sharp inhale, Yoongi finally starts moving his hips against your own. His thrusts were hard and fast, unforgiving, acting on the wants and needs of his body. You grab a hold of his biceps and hold on firmly, trying to anchor yourself to him. The thrusting of his hips makes you slide a little further up the leather couch with each contact his body makes with you, making him have to pull you back down to meet him repeatedly. It was almost too distracting for you. You tap his arms, and he is immediately off you with a look of worry etched in his features.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, thinking he hurt you. Without a word, you turn over to your knees and look back at him over your shoulder. “Fuck.” he whispers and gently pumps himself in his hand as he stares at you waiting for him. You teasingly sway your backside at him and he bites his lip, still watching you. “Fuck,” he whispers again.

“Yoongi,” you whimper.

“Yeah, shit,” he said, finally snapping out of his trance.

Moving your fallen skirt back up, Yoongi whips his shirt off and over his head to get it out of the way. His hands return to you as he places one hand on your hip to hold you steady and inserts himself back into you with the other. Moaning at the angle, you push your hips back against him until your bottom meets his pelvis. You press your own face and chest further into the cushions, making your back arch more, bringing him deeper into your burning core. Yoongi gasps. He grabs the front of your hips and pulls your ass up to meet his every thrust as he begins to move within you again. The tip of his cock kissing your sweet spot with every push of his hips.

“Yoongi,” you cry out in a broken sob as your body jostles around from his handling of you.

“That's it,” he rasps as the sound his hips smack against your ass fills his studio. Tingles start to spread over your body as your muscles start to tense. You feel your body suddenly drop, and Yoongi moves to hover over you further. His breath hits your cheek as his face drops down to yours. “I love you. So, fucking much.”

Reaching behind you with both hands, you grab a hold of the back of his bare thighs. Your nails dig into his pale flesh as you desperately try to hold onto him. Yoongi's lips press against your cheek as his hand dips under your skirt. HIs fingers press on your clit, drawing quick circles along it.

“YOONGI!” You cry out and cover your mouth with your hand. You are scared to be too loud even though you know his studio is soundproof.

“Let me hear you,” he grunts against the side of your face.

Your walls start to contract around as you begin to brokenly sob out his name, causing his own hips to stutter in response. You hear him groan out a couple of “oh fucks” in your ear as he stills as he emptied himself into you. His breathing is hard, warm breath puffing against your cheek as he tries to catch his breath. He turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. Slowly, he pulls out of you after a moment and sits back laying his head against the back of the couch trying to calm down his fast beating heart. You close your legs tightly as you turn onto your back and try to catch his attention.

“Umm,” you say, your face starting to turn red. “It's leaking.”

Yoongi looks at you, then between your legs, and starts to laugh at you. Standing up, he pulls up his pants and grabs some tissues by his desk. Cleaning you up, he hands you your underwear and tights before he puts his own shirt back on. You shyly get dressed in front of him as he sits back and watches you with a half lidded expression of pure satisfaction. Straightening your skirt and smoothing it down, he holds his hand out to you once again. You grab a hold of it, and he gently pulls you onto his lap.

“I miss you so much, baby. I'm trying my hardest to finish this damn album so I can help you,” he says, and you nod and rest your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper and hold onto him just a little tighter. You don't ever want to let go.

“Well if that wasn't the longest lunch break in history,” Seungkwan says, giving you a side-eye as soon as you open the door. He knew damn well what you were up to.“

"Very funny,” you say, walking into your office and sitting at your desk across the room.

“Your phone has been going off nonstop,” he tells you.

You groan and throw your head back in exasperation. Picking your phone up, you see that your mom has, in fact, been nonstop calling you and has sent one text. Calling her back, you hold your breath. You have to be prepared for what could end up being a fight.

“Y/N, where have you been? I've been calling you all afternoon,” your mother's voice came from the other end of the phone. “I called the venue with the mountains and gardens. I told them we were interested and I needed a date to tell her.”

“I….I’m going to be booking my own venue. It's at a small winery just out of town on August 1st, a black and white color theme, with no flowers,” you tell her in one breath. You did it. You told her, and there was no going back after this.

“WHAT?” She exclaimed so loudly that you had to pull the phone away from your ear.

“I have to work goodbye,” you say quickly before she can continue and turn your phone immediately off.

“No, flowers?” Seungkwan questioned you with a bewildered look. “You don't want flowers?”

“No, they are way too expensive, and I feel bad for spending that much,” you explain.

“My sister is a florist. Let me talk to her, and I will give her your number,” he said. “I'm sure that she will give you a discount.”

“You don't have to,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “I really don't care if I have flowers or not.”

“I want to, even if it's just your bouquet. That's what friends are for,” he says, giving you a soft smile before turning back to his computer and continuing his work.

You rest your head back against your seat, and your eyes look at the picture of you and Yoongi sitting on your desk by your computer monitor. It was a selfie that you took from the balcony of that beautiful Paris hotel room. You could see the Eiffel Tower lit up in the background as he held you in his arms while you stretched your arm out to take the picture. There’s a small pit in your stomach as you look at it, and you can't figure out what it is as you look at your smiling faces. You just hope that it goes away soon.

A/N: Well, I've finally started chapter 7 of Vows. Updates will still come about every two weeks or so. Also, I wasn't sure about my tagged readers from SECRETS and if I was supposed to tag you in this new story. I guess I don't know the protocol.

Tagged Readers:

@svnbangtansworld, @futuristicenemychaos

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mosaickiwi · 9 months ago

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Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest.

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it.

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to.

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief.

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.”

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.”

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day.

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back.

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears.

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good.

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened?

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration.

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #cw religious themes #momo writing #cannot gush about the story in tags bc spoilers </3 #i must contain myself #sobbing and crying #but p4 queued for next week #maybe my brain will shut up about it once everything is posted!!!#<- hopes and dreams right here #so sorry this AU is all u get out of me for a while...#I'M ON BREAK!!! I AIN'T LYING!!!

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portraitofalinkonfyre · 2 months ago

Note

My brain is absolutely mush so I'm leaving Sky period sex smut here. Pat pat. I'm so sorry you have to deal with my demons.

Don't ever apologize because I LOVE YOUR BRAIN. Your Sky requests are breathing life into me, so don't you dare feel bad <3

Crimson Comfort

Pairing: Sky x Reader

Warning(s): Period sex :). Reader is assumed female because of menstruation

Masterlist

You awoke at the crack of dawn, when the sky was but a mere sliver in the darkened horizon. A beam of tangerine light shone through the small crack in the shades, nearly blinding you as you groaned and attempted to reshuffle into a position that wouldn't sacrifice your poor eyes to the sun's fiery wrath, which was proving slightly difficult with the heavy arm sling over your midsection.

Sky, per usual, was dead asleep, his back pushed so far against the wall that you were sure he would have tumbled to the floor had it not been there. You froze when he snorted in his slumber, face wrinkling so slightly that you almost missed it. The arm around your stomach tightened minutely, fingers digging into the flesh of your side.

You waited.

Sky let out another snort, expression relaxing.

You allowed yourself a huff of relief, carefully readjusting to face him, successfully warding off the sun for another few hours. Mission accomplished.

There was a rustle.

"...Morning," Sky's voice filtered through the calm, heavy with sleep. His eyes remained closed, but you knew it didn't make him any less alert.

Fuck, you swore internally, which was an appropriate thought considering the events that had occurred just last night and the fact that he'd managed to catch you off guard yet again. Instead of vocalizing your thoughts on the matter, you flushed a dark color and mumbled, "Go to sleep, the sun's not even up."

"Hm..." he hummed. Eyes the color of the stormy sea blinked open, pupils contracting slightly as he registered the golden light washing in from the window. He gazed at you through a thick, unbrushed mess of golden curls. A thin embroidered shirt separated your flesh when he pulled you closer, head rising to nose at your hair, breath huffing at the strands. "I can't," he decided after a moment. "Not when you're awake."

You leaned in, the tip of your nose brushing the bobbing apple of his throat. "We'll be useless in the morning," the joke slipped from your lips, bouncing off his tanned skin and flailing in the atmosphere above.

"I don't mind," he huffed back. Your heart stuttered. "It's fine."

Just to maintain the bit, you snorted softly. "It's not."

Silence.

"What are you doing?" You asked when he pushed the blankets down, his hand gently cupping the back of your right thigh and hiking it over his hip, something warm and hard slotting against your core. You hadn't bothered putting on shorts after last night, leaving you in only one of his tunics and a flimsy pair of underwear.

"Is this okay?" The man in question mumbled against the top of your head, thumb stroking careful circles over your flesh. He was always so gentle with you, even though you had done this thousands of times. He always asked, and you loved him for it.

You paused–as if there was a reason to consider such an obvious answer–and nodded, kissing along the bobbing column of his throat. "Touch me," you said, and you couldn't have meant it more.

He obliged with a sharp inhale through his nose, the hand on your hip sliding to the hem of your tunic, fingers dipping beneath the fabric to trace firebrand lines up your side, eventually reaching the slopes of your breasts. You whined against flesh when he took one of your boobs in hand, thumb flicking lightly over the already pebbled nipple. You already felt so sensitive and he had barely started, which wasn't that thought provoking in your hazy state, but there was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Did you have something to do today? Something important? Whatever it was, it would have to wait, because there was no way you were letting the world tear him away now.

Sky's other hand came up, pushing lightly at your chin to coax you into gazing up at him. "Can I kiss you?" He asked, despite already knowing the answer. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at the query, scooting up slightly to slot your lips together. It was warm and oh-so-perfect, leaving you both breathless and aching for more. There was a tugging feeling in your belly, and you felt wetter than the ocean, hands clinging to his strong shoulders for any semblance of stability.

"Link," you breathed when the kiss ended and you were forced to resurface for air. Your chest heaved as the sheets crinkled around you, mussed from sleep and the numerous activities that had occurred before.

The hero palmed your breast with a bit more purpose, face flushing slightly when his name fell from your lips. "It's okay," he whispered in a tone that perfectly matched yours, eyes burning loving holes into your flesh. "I've got you."

You felt yourself shiver at his words, tilting up to steal another sweet kiss. The movement of your lips was unhurried as he continued to knead you, moving to your other, neglected breast after a few moments. This time, he tweaked your nipple, and the sharp sensation had you yelping into his mouth. Fuck, that actually hurt a bit.

As if sensing your pain, Sky stopped all movement, breaking the kiss as his brows knitted together in worry. His hand withdrew from your tunic, resting on the curve of your hip, still slung over his own. "Are you okay?"

You blinked a bit, confused yourself. Sure, you were usually more sensitive in the mornings, but this was new, as was the ache in your abdomen-

You froze when something warm and wet leaked from you, in a far larger quantity to be arousal. There was a stab of pain in your stomach and the realization hit like a dive-bombing loftwing. "Shit," you hissed, scooting off of him to confirm your fears. Sky tried to follow, only to freeze in turn when he noticed the crimson blood staining his thigh, right where your core had been.

"Oh no," Sky's voice filtered as he came to the conclusion of what had just occurred. With startling grace, he all but leapt from the bed, jogging to the bathroom and returning with several thick towels in hand. His lips formed a thin, worried line as he moved to the foot of the bed, pulled the covers all the way down, and climbed back to your side. "I'm so sorry," he all but whispered, using a hand to encourage your hips to lift so he could slide a folded towel beneath them.

"Don't," you huffed slightly, sitting up and ignoring the fresh bout of cramping in your belly. It wasn't the worse you'd had, but it definitely wasn't the lightest, either. "It's not your fault."

"I know," he said in a tone that told you he didn't. "...Does it hurt?"

"No more than usual," you shrugged, determined to keep the worst of it to yourself. You had survived alone for many years, so what made a few days any different? You did, however, have no shame in asking him to fetch you things. "Could you bring me a glass of water? And some of those herbs from the potion shop?"

Sky nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right back," he said, though the look in his eyes was reluctant. Still, he was up in a flash, padding to the kitchen to fulfill your request. While you waited, you busied yourself with dragging the soiled sheets from the blissfully clean mattress, making sure to keep the towel beneath you to prevent more accidents.

Once the offended sheets had been properly grimaced at and balled into a corner of the room, you sat back down on the bare mattress, grimacing at your predicament. You were usually good about keeping track of your cycle to prevent the headache of extra laundry, but a few mishaps were bound to happen, though you were glad this particular one had occurred in the privacy of your own home, even if it did interrupt what was to be a wonderful morning with your boyfriend.

The door opened, and you were grateful for Sky's quick return. He walked to your side, bearing a cup of water and a small pouch of herbs that you swore up and down on. He plopped beside you, offering the cup with a slightly strained smile.

"Thank you," you sipped the water, then took the herbs and poured a small amount into the cup, grimacing at the bitter taste coating your tongue. You drank until the cup was empty, gagging minutely at the less-than-ideal flavor.

Sky watched with a sort of nervous anticipation when you placed the cup on the nightstand, one of his hands moving to rub the small of your back. "Is it helping?" He asked, followed by a more confident: "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm fine," you shook your head and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek with a half-smile. "I don't suppose you're still open to cuddles?"

The hero's expression instantly softened and he wrapped his arms just under your chest, coaxing you to lie back on the bed. You went willingly, one hand reaching down to make sure the towel stayed beneath you at all times. A sharp rush of blood left you, but the pain in your abdomen was fading as the herbs took effect, leaving you relaxed and, dare you say, boneless against the broad expanse of his chest. Your head fell back against the pillows, eyes closed and breathing coming in small, content puffs. "I'm always open," he mumbled into your hair, nuzzling the soft skin of your neck. "I love you."

You tilted your head to press a kiss to his forehead, already falling into the warm embrace of sleep. "I love you, too, Link."

You awoke to a horrid cramping in your abdomen.

Groaning, you willed yourself to move, to do something other than lie in pain, but it was futile when the feeling only doubled, coupled with an unpleasant flood of... fluids from you. You felt gross and sticky, and the urge to curl up and hide was a strong one.

Sky was already awake, expression concerned as he watched your movements. The fact that he hadn't succumbed to sleep surprised you, but it was quickly overpowered when another cramp crashed over you. Deft fingers, calloused from years of training, stroked your side, occasionally dipping beneath the hem of your tunic. He did nothing, though, only asking, "How are you feeling?"

You gave a noncommittal, pained huff, resisting the urge to roll off the side of the bed and let the fall take you.

"That bad, huh?" Sky's smile was deeply sympathetic as his fingers pressed under your tunic once more, applying gentle pressure to your belly in the form of small, soothing circles. It wasn't the biggest help--without heat, at least--but you allowed him to continue, gazing up with bleary eyes.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Just over two hours," he answered quickly, and you chuckled tiredly at the embarrassed flush licking at his cheeks. It was cute how he thought that would make you uncomfortable.

"Thanks," you mumbled, eyes falling closed once more. His hand felt warm against the cool flesh of your stomach, and you trusted him to know what you needed in a situation like this. "...Do we have any more of those heat packs from the academy?"

By heat packs, you meant the emergency warmers the knights were required to carry when times grew tough, which you would have never asked for had the academy not sent him home to you with several hundred of them one random afternoon. You were still trying to figure that one out, honestly, but the flash of elated recognition in his eyes was everything. "I'll get you one!"

With that, he was gone, presumably to rummage in the closet the packs were kept in, while you were left to mourn the temporary loss of warmth. You instantly relaxed when familiar footsteps padded in, followed by a sharp snap as the pack in Sky's hand activated. He was smiling as he pushed it beneath your tunic, right where his hand had been. The warmth that bloomed over your skin was heavenly, and you could have cried when he rejoined you on the bed, chest practically molded to your side, continuing to rub those sweet, gentle circles atop the pack. "Is that better?"

"Much," you all but groaned, too blissed out to offer any true eloquence in your words. "You're the best."

"Anything for you," he murmured, nuzzling your hair as he continued his ministrations. You felt safe in his embrace, like a warm blanket after a cold day.

The only thing that broke you from your reverie was another rush of blood from between your legs, which were still bare as you had elected to free bleed on the towel until your stomach decided to stop stabbing itself. You shifted your hips, feeling a bit too wet for comfort, and Sky was instantly alert, assessing the situation with a diligence usually observed when he had a sword in one hand. "It's okay, I'll get you another one," he soothed, sitting up to pick another towel from the good-sized stack on the bedside table, sliding the old towel out and the new one under your hips.

It was purely by chance that the pad of his thumb accidentally brushed over your sore core, though the borderline moan the action elicited certainly wasn't.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, but the damage had already been done. Sky paused, brows raising as he processed your reaction. You could tell by the way his face flushed crimson that he wanted to try it again, but held back for your sake.

You didn't want him to.

The way your thighs closed on his hand was almost instinctual. You had done it many times before, but never for this reason. Sky's fingers felt warm, though a bit stiff, between your flesh. "It's fine," you whispered once your voice returned, face burning brighter than the hottest hearth. "Please..."

"O-Okay," Sky cleared his throat, obviously still reeling from the suddenness of the situation. His fingers fanned out, coaxing your thighs to part once more, baring everything to his smoldering gaze. It was your first time doing this, so you expected a bit of nervousness on both sides, but the flash of hunger in those blues of his only solidified your desire. "Tell me if I do anything wrong."

"Promise," you managed to squeak before he reached forward, tracing two fingers down the seam of your lips, gathering both blood and arousal. It was enough to send a fresh bolt of warmth zinging through your belly, curling up the length of your spine.

"Link," his name was a breathless prayer on your lips when his thumb found your clit, applying the gentlest pressure to the tender, swollen bud. The sensation was jarring, and you would have been embarrassed by the way your hips jerked had he not shushed you, fingers moving a bit lower to spare you some relief, coating themselves in a mix of fluids that you should have found disgusting, but the only thing on your mind was how hot he was like this.

"It's okay," Sky shifted, using his free hand to coax you to sit up, slotting himself between your back and the headboard. Your head fell back against his shoulder when he pressed the heat pack closer to your skin. "I'll take care of you."

And so he did. He was a man of his word, after all.

You felt helpless as you squirmed and shivered under his ministrations at your slit, spreading your wetness over your thighs and coaxing you back to intimacy, making sure to avoid your sensitive clit until he knew you could handle it.

A single finger teased your entrance, dipping in with a patience that could have rivaled the goddesses, testing your slick walls for any sign of pain or discomfort. "Does it hurt?" his question came as a breathy whisper against the trembling skin of your craned neck.

"N-No," you murmured, hips canting forward in an attempt to coax him to continue. Every nerve in your body cried for relief, and who were you to deny yourself? His finger pressed all the way in, and your hips squirmed. You needed more.

Your breath hitched when the pad of his thumb brushed the underside of your clit, testing your reaction with careful precision. This time, it wasn't quite as sensitive, and you took the action with a soft whine, head falling back further against his shoulder.

"There you go," the hero encouraged, rewarding you with an open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, right where your pulse beat the strongest. He pumped his finger slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust before a second one began to circle your entrance, only dipping in when your hips rocked up, trying to draw him in. "Shh, I'll give it to you."

A low moan was your response when he pushed the second finger in, carefully crooking them against your gummy walls. The cramps in your belly had faded to a dull ache, leaving behind a far different type of throbbing in your abdomen. One of your hands fisted in the mattress while the other gripped his forearm, encouraging his movements with gentle, desperate squeezes to corded muscle. Sky was kind enough not to comment, busying himself with kissing a path down the length of your neck as his fingers crooked, searching for the spot that he knew would have you seeing stars.

"Ah!" The yelp tore through your throat faster than you could stop it. Your hips lifted slightly, only held down by the hand splayed on your abdomen. "FUck– right there–!"

"Here?" Sky's chuckle vibrated through your entire being as he complied, applying more pressure to the spot within you, occasionally scissoring his fingers to stretch you open. Your nails dug into his forearm, sinking into flesh and you struggled to regain even a shred of composure against the onslaught of pleasure, but it was for naught when his thumb reacquainted itself with your clit, padding slow, easy circles over the stiff nub. "It's okay, you can let go. I've got you."

As if on cue, the coil that had been brewing in your belly snapped, so suddenly that you didn't have time to censor the noises rolling from your parted mouth like the crashing waves of the ocean. It was too much and not enough, you thought as your body seized impressively, walls clamping down on his fingers and neck practically dislocating from how hard you threw your head back. Sky helped you ride out your orgasm as best he could, pace never once faltering as you gushed around him, squirming and whimpering.

By the time you finally came down from your high, you were panting like the air had been punched from your lungs. A small, satisfied grin crossed Sky's face as he withdrew his fingers, absolutely coated in crimson slick to where they met the meat of his hand. "How do you feel?" His voice filtered through the fog, and you took a steadying breath.

"Like I could die happy," was your tired reply. He hummed in acknowledgment, though you hardly registered the noise when he brought his hand to his mouth, gaze flicking intently over his fingers. There was something deeply contemplative in his eyes, and you flushed when pink lips parted, his tongue darting out to flick across his pointer finger, gathering the barest hints of wetness. "Oh–"

"It's not bad," he mused in a way that made you turn as red as the offending digits. Storm-blue eyes flicked to meet your own, dancing with equal measures of ravenous mirth and tender hunger. "I'm not a fan of blood, but I think I could get behind this."

"Please stop talking," you squeaked, a millisecond away from covering your face in your hands. Watching him lick his bloodied fingers wasn't something you ever thought you would enjoy the sight of, but the deeply depraved part of you cheered at the image, while the other, more reasonable part prayed for the salvation of your souls. "It's gross."

"Maybe," he grinned, and you wondered how someone so sweet could be so resonatingly smug. His tongue darted out again, lucking a much bolder stripe up his bloodied palm in a manner scarily similar to the way he acted between your thighs. "But you're not gross."

"And you're weird," you muttered under your breath, though you couldn't deny that his actions had definitely helped. "Thank you, though. I feel a lot better."

"Good," Sky's head dipped down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, shifting slightly to make sure the towel was still nestled beneath your hips, and it was then that you felt his bulge, hot and heavy, against the curve of your ass. He was hard. Maybe even painfully so, considering the spectacle he had just watched. That wouldn't do, not after everything he had done for you.

You shifted to sit up a bit straighter, gently nudging the cooled heat pack off of your flesh. Sky's brow furrowed in confusion when you turned to him, gaze questioning. "Is something wrong?"

You nodded to his very obvious hard-on–there was even a wet spot in his pants, for crying out loud–smiling slightly when his gaze snapped down, as if seeing it for the first time. His blush darkened. "Do you need help with that?"

"No," he answered quickly, then amended when you studied him: "I mean– not right now. I can wait."

"Are you sure?" You asked, tilting your head as you pivoted to face him, keeping your butt firmly planted on the towel. There was a mild cramp in your belly at the movement, but you knew it would fade as soon as he got his hands on you again. "I don't mind."

"It's fine," Sky continued, somehow managing to look simultaneously guilty and horny out of his mind. "Your health is more important than my pleasure."

True, but you also felt like your 'health' was about to take a nosedive if you didn't get him inside you in the next five minutes. Not that you would ever push him, but the ache was there, waiting to be satisfied. Still, you nodded, determined to respect his wishes as much as he did yours. "Okay," you murmured, leaning forward to plant a kiss in the corner of his mouth. "Want to cuddle until Zelda comes to the front door to find out if we've died or not?"

Sky's grin grew tenfold, and he kissed both of your cheeks in gentle succession, hands cupping your cheeks like the finest china. "I'd love nothing more."

I kind of want to write a part two for Legend's period fic now 👀

Also please forgive me for the title, I can't name things for the life of me.

#linked universe #linked universe x reader #the chain x reader #link x reader smut #lu x reader #loz smut #lu sky x reader #period sex

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apomaro-mellow · 2 years ago

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Eddie's been on cloud nine as of late. Things were going great with Steve and they were going even better with Wayne and Steve. Eddie thought there might be some tension, and there was, but only briefly.

His uncle was a great judge of character. And Steve's character was perfect, if Eddie did say so himself.

So imagine his surprise when he comes back to the trailer, Steve's eyes red and wet from crying.

Eddie came in from a hard day's work and since he saw Steve's car waiting was prepared to be greet with a kiss. He heard a weird shuffling, then saw Steve sitting next to Wayne.

"Steve?"

"Eddie, it's not what you think", Steve said quickly.

"It's not? Because it looks like my uncle made you cry. And I think I can imagine why."

"Oh?", Wayne raised a brow. "Do tell."

Steve was looking back and forth between them, like he was afraid of a fight breaking out.

"It looks like you gave him the talk every father gives their daughter when she brings her first serious boyfriend home. Like you told him about your hatchet collection just in case he every breaks my heart."

Steve's eyes widened. "Your what?"

Wayne just rolled his. "I had a brief stint as a lumberjack. And two axes hardly count as a collection."

"You still didn't hafta threaten him. You know Steve now. You know he's good to me." What if whatever Wayne said scared him off? It probably took a lot to freak him out but Eddie had never seen him cry before. Ever.

"Well maybe he could use a little warning, just in case."

Eddie frowned and went over to Steve's side. "I can't believe you'd treat him like that. After everything I've told you and everything you've seen-"

"Wayne didn't do anything!", Steve blurted.

That made Eddie pause and Steve took a breath before he pulled something that had been hidden between his back and the couch cushions. "He was showing me this."

Eddie knew what was in the book already but opened it anyway. A photo album, filled with pictures from the day Eddie was born all the way to his first couple of years of primary school. The later years were in another album.

"You were crying....because Wayne showed you my baby photos?"

Steve nodded.

"Can you blame him? You were a handsome baby", Wayne said. "Needed him to know you weren't always funny lookin'."

Eddie looked over Steve's shoulder to shoot him a playful glare before looking back at his boyfriend.

"Sweetness, I truly got myself hitched to a sap. I mean, this made you cry?" He held up the photo of himself, halfway to bringing a spoonful of mashed potatoes to his mouth. The mess around his face and on his hands told the story of his very valiant efforts to feed himself.

"You were adorable", Steve whined, eyes getting a little misty again.

"Alright, alright. I can understand the secrecy now. I'm not a huge fan when Wayne pulls this out. But for you and only you, we can peruse my early childhood. Anything after I turn ten is off limits!"

Eddie pointed a finger at them both, daring him to challenge them.

"Why can't I see middle school Eddie?", Steve asked.

"Oh he was really funny lookin' then", Wayne answered. "Went through this whole phase where he claimed purple was his color."

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #wayne munson #anyone else able to pinpoint the exact moment #where they stopped looking kiddie cute #and got awkward and ugly?#for me it was 12 #still haven't recovered #anyway #nothing make steve cry except cuteness overload

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namism · 24 days ago

Text

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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aesthetically-dying101 · 1 month ago

Text

Law of Attraction (Part 4)

A/N: i tried to make a bit of humor, it'll get serious again (tears will be shed) reader is just sad trying to 'fake it till you make it', making a lot of jokes to her own expense,which nanami doesnt get

(if u saw this post already, no u didn't, i had to reformat it, sorry)

Other parts: Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 5;

also this image is so silly i love it:

You and Nanami had fallen back into the rhythm of working, the quiet hum of focus filling the room, when—

BAM!

The door to your dorm apartment burst open with all the subtlety of a freight train, and Aiko—your best friend, your partner in crime—stormed in like a whirlwind. She was a colorful mess, of course, all highlighter pink and neon green with a side of attitude. Her gyaru style was loud, as always-like her.

"Oh my god, did you see the snow—?" she started, arms flailing dramatically as she stepped inside. But then she froze mid-sentence, her eyes landing on Nanami.

His stiff, formal posture, the way he was perched on your mismatched couch, scribbling notes... it was so not Aiko's scene. She blinked twice, one eyebrow creeping up her forehead.

"Oh?"

You recognized that look. Your stomach dropped.

"Aiko, don't you dare—" You were already getting up from your seat, but it was too late.

Without a second thought, Aiko's grin stretched wide.

"Use protection!" she shouted, completely oblivious to the death stare you were sending her way.

Before you could do anything, she whipped out a condom from her pocket—yes, a condom—and threw it at you with expert precision, like a damn grenade-who keeps a condom in her pocket???

It landed with a soft plop on the table between you and Nanami. You could almost hear the smirk in her voice as she yelled over her shoulder, "Take care of yourself, girl!"

And just as quickly, she slammed the door behind her, her laughter echoing down the hallway as she ran off, clearly on some mission to ruin your life.

You sat there, frozen, staring at the little condom package like it was about to come to life, grow little legs and start making its own bad decisions.

"Oh my god," you muttered under your breath, your face turning as red as Aiko's hair. "I'm so sorry."

Nanami hadn't moved an inch.

Of course, he hadn't. He was probably in shock, trying to process the fact that the girl he was partnered with in law class had a friend who was insane enough to throw a condom at her in front of him-for a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he was shocked because he was one of those guys. Maybe he was a virgin-nah, not with that sharp of a jawline.

"Right," you continued, trying to salvage what little dignity you had left. "That's just... Aiko being Aiko. Please, just forget that happened."

You glanced at him, expecting—no, hoping—he was going to ignore it, maybe pretend it didn't happen. But no, instead, he stared at the condom for a solid few seconds, his lips tight in the most unreadable expression you'd ever seen.

"...Interesting choice of timing," he muttered, a slight glint of amusement flickering in his eyes.

You swore you could feel your soul leaving your body. "I swear, I'm not like this. She just—she's my best friend, and she's insane. That was... absolutely ridiculous."

Nanami didn't say anything for a moment, but there was something about his quiet demeanor that made you feel even more self-conscious. You quickly grabbed the condom, throwing it into a nearby drawer like it might burn you if you held it too long.

"Anyway..." You cleared your throat, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you. "Let's just... get back to work."

You prayed that this would be the last awkward thing to happen for the next few hours.

Spoiler: It wasn't.

*-*

A little while you checked the time- 7 pm!! And the snow hadn't stopped, like at all, so he definitely be staying the night.

"Um..Nanami no offense, but i need a break, we've been at it for a while."

Nanami looked up from the document he had been reading, blinked once- you felt the heat rise up your neck.

"Of course," he said finally, his tone as calm and even as ever. He leaned back in the chair, adjusting his tie like he was sitting in some upscale office and not your tiny dorm apartment covered in band posters and mismatched fairy lights. "A break makes sense."

"Cool." You tried not to sound too relieved. "Uh, tea? Coffee? I've got snacks somewhere, I think. Or ramen, if you're feeling fancy. Pizza that I bought yesterday? I also got some apples and banana's-"

Nanami tilted his head slightly, processing your rambling list of options like you were offering him a five-course menu instead of the odds and ends in your dorm.

"Tea would be fine. Thank you."

"Right. Tea. Coming right up," you said, a little too brightly, practically launching yourself toward the tiny kitchenette in the corner.

You busied yourself with the kettle, hyperaware of every movement. Nanami was still sitting at your desk, impeccably straight-backed as if he were sitting in some boardroom and not in your dorm that screamed chaotic individuality. You could feel his presence without even looking.

It was unsettling.

"Uh... do you like green tea? Or I have chamomile. Or Earl Grey, which is... fancy, I guess?" You called over your shoulder, fumbling with the cupboard door.

"Earl Grey is fine."

Of course, Earl Grey.

Because he's Nanami Kento, and Nanami Kento probably drinks Earl Grey while reading 18th-century legal texts for fun.

You huffed a laugh to yourself, setting the kettle on to boil.

By the time you handed him the steaming mug, the snow outside had gotten worse—thick, heavy flakes swirling under the dim streetlights. You glanced at the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"So, uh..." you started, awkwardly gesturing at the storm. "You're definitely not walking home in that."

Nanami followed your gaze, taking a measured sip of tea. "It does seem... unlikely."

Unlikely. Yeah, okay. Let's call it unlikely and not 'you'd freeze to death in two minutes flat.'

You nodded, rocking on your heels. "Right. So, uh, I guess you're staying here? Not like there's much choice. Unless you wanna camp out in the hallway, which—spoiler—gets super creepy at night. I swear the janitor has a vendetta against me for spilling coffee that one time."

He blinked at you, then set his mug down. "I don't mind staying, as long as it's not an inconvenience for you."

"Oh! No. Totally fine. It's fine. I mean, I've got an air mattress somewhere... I think." You scratched the back of your neck, already regretting every word out of your mouth. You knew for a fact you didn't have an air mattress.

The last one was popped by Aiko and her wonderful nails.

There was an awkward silence as you hovered, unsure what to do next. Finally, you blurted out, "Wanna... watch a movie or something?- I've got the Grinch if you want-"

"A movie," he repeated, his tone flat but not dismissive. "I suppose that could be... acceptable."

Act normal, act normal, act normal.

"So," you began, trying to fill the awkward silence, "do you actually like Christmas movies, or are you just humoring me because we're snowed in and you're stuck here?"

"Humoring you," he said smoothly, taking another sip of tea.

Your head snapped up, eyes wide, genuine fear and shame written all over your face.

"I'm kidding," he added, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smirk.

Was that... a joke? Did Nanami just joke with you? You stared at him like he'd grown a second head, fumbling the DVD case in your hands. "Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Kento Nanami?"

He raised an eyebrow, unbothered by your dramatics. "I'm not entirely humorless, despite what you might think."

"Could've fooled me," you muttered, popping the DVD into the player.

When the movie started, you realized two things:

1:You had zero chill.

2:Nanami was entirely too composed for someone trapped in your dorm with you.

You almost wanted to walk outside into that blizzard, so save yourself the embarrassment.

You grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around yourself like some kind of armor, sitting cross-legged on the far corner of the couch. He stayed at the desk at first, sipping his tea, but eventually—after what felt like hours—he moved to sit on the other end of the couch.

You stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge how close he was.

"Uh, if you're cold or something, I've got more blankets," you offered, barely glancing at him (hello kitty or horror themed, take your pick people).

"I'm fine, thank you," he replied, perfectly polite as always.

Of course you are, you thought. You're probably immune to the elements.

Halfway through the movie, you couldn't take it anymore. Your nerves were on edge, and the awkwardness of sitting in silence was unbearable.

"You know what? I need a drink. Do you drink? Or is alcohol against the Nanami code of conduct?"

He looked over at you, mildly amused. "I drink, on occasion."

"Oh, good. 'Cause I have, like... three beers and some cheap wine. Classy, right?" You pushed yourself off the couch and opened the mini fridge, pulling out two cans of beer. "Pick your poison."

Nanami took one without comment, his fingers brushing yours for a split second-oh god you were about to combust what the fuck. You tried not to let your brain spiral at the brief contact.

You plopped back down on the couch, cracking your can open and taking a long sip. "So," you said after a moment, "what's it like being the most put-together person on the planet?"

Nanami tilted his head slightly, considering the question. "I wouldn't describe myself that way."

"Sure," you drawled. "And I wouldn't describe myself as a walking disaster. But here we are."

He actually chuckled at that—a soft, low sound that made you glance at him in surprise.

"See?" you said, pointing your can at him. "You have a sense of humor after all."

"I never said I didn't," he countered, the corner of his mouth quirking up. "And you're not."

"Not what-"

"A walking disaster."

Oh that fucker.

*-*

A couple of hours later, and you were definitely tipsy.

Not that you'd admit it out loud. But it was hard not to feel a little loose when you'd finished that second beer and then polished off most of the cheap wine. You didn't usually drink this much. But Nanami had this... effect on you. This thing where he made everything feel so... calm. So controlled. Meanwhile, you were pretty sure your brain was starting to melt.

"Did you know," you said suddenly, slurring your words just a bit, "that the Grinch is basically a metaphor for social anxiety?"

Nanami blinked at you, mildly confused. "I'm not sure that's what the movie's about."

"Oh, please," you waved your hand like it was obvious. "The dude literally isolates himself, doesn't want to deal with anyone, and then—bam! He's forced to interact with people."

He paused, considering it. "You might be onto something."

You grinned, proud of yourself for impressing him with your insightful analysis of a holiday movie. "See? I'm not just a disaster. I'm a philosopher."

"Right," Nanami said, his lips twitching in that subtle way that made you want to both laugh and melt into a puddle. "A philosopher with very questionable taste in movies."

"Hey!" You leaned forward, narrowing your eyes at him dramatically. "The Grinch is a classic, okay? Don't insult it."

"I'm not insulting it. I'm just stating facts," he said, leaning back in his chair, looking entirely too comfortable while you were clearly losing the battle against your own brain.

You leaned back on the couch, arms spread wide as you stared at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded, completely changing the subject. "I don't know, man," you slurred slightly, "I think being an idiot is my superpower. I just do it so well. People should pay me for this kind of expertise."

Nanami, who'd been sipping his beer quietly for most of the evening, looked at you with an expression that was so damn serious you almost choked on your own laugh.

"I don't think you're an idiot."

You snorted, eyes widening as you realized what he'd said. "Oh please. I'm the worst. I'm like, the embodiment of bad decisions. It's like I was born with a talent for making things awkward."

He paused, putting his drink down carefully, staring at you. His usual controlled, even-keeled gaze was softer now, his lips just barely twitching.

"You've done more than just fine on the project. I've seen the work you've submitted. Perfectly organized, well-researched—nothing about that seems idiotic."

Your breath caught in your throat. Wait. What? You blinked at him, brain scrambling for a response, but none came. Instead, you felt a deep, fiery heat crawl up your neck, and before you could stop yourself, your face turned bright red.

"W-What?" You could barely choke out the word. "Perfectly organized? Don't make me laugh. My notes look like a tornado hit them."

You waved your hands around, trying to distract him from your flaming face. He tilted his head, the faintest glint of confusion flickering in his eyes.

"I'm not joking. It's all perfectly done. You've really put effort into this. I can see it."

The room felt too small. Too hot. You should've said something clever, something to deflect, but instead you just stared at him like a deer caught in headlights.Finally, Nanami's lips twitched into a smile, not quite a grin, but still undeniably amused.

"I didn't think you'd react like this to a compliment."

"...Thanks," you muttered, barely able to look him in the eye. Your face turned even redder, and you buried your face in your hands, desperate to hide. "Okay, stop. Please. I'm literally dying over here."

"You're not dying. You're blushing," he teased, his voice light, but still holding a certain warmth. Tipsy.

But he wasn't letting up. He leaned back, casually adjusting his tie, and gave you a look—one that made your stomach flip. "Well, you've got this thing about you. I don't think I've met anyone quite like you before."

That made you pause. You looked at him through the haze of embarrassment, trying to gauge if he was just being nice or if there was something more to what he was saying.

"What, like a freak?"

"No," Nanami said quickly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that." He shifted in his seat, suddenly more serious, and his eyes softened, almost like he was searching for the right words. "You're... unique. And that's not a bad thing. It's a good thing."

"Uh-huh." You raised an eyebrow, still unconvinced. "Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel like she's actually worth something, don't you?" You said it sarcastically, but there was a nervousness underneath, a weird hope.

Nanami looked at you for a moment, his gaze softer than you were used to.

"I'm serious," he said, the words coming out slower now, as if he was choosing them with care. "You're smart. You've worked hard. People like that are... rare."

You could feel your heart beating faster. Did he just call me rare?

"I don't know about all that," you said, forcing a laugh, but it didn't come out as smoothly as you'd hoped. "I mean, if I'm rare, I'm like that weird fruit you find at the back of the grocery store that nobody wants to touch."

"Maybe," Nanami said, the corner of his mouth lifting just a bit. "But if I had to choose, I'd pick that weird fruit over the ones everyone else grabs."

Oh, God, stop. You're going to die. You buried your face in your hands again, but this time, you felt a slight warmth inside you, something unfamiliar but welcome.

*-*

Hours had passed, and you both were definitely tipsy now. Nanami had even undone his tie—he must've been feeling some kind of way, right? You couldn't help but notice how he absentmindedly ran a hand through his hair, and—okay, you definitely didn't stare at his hand a little too long, admiring the way his fingers moved.

Nope. Not at all.

You took a swig of your drink, hoping to drown the thought and focus on anything else. But of course, that wasn't happening.

"So," you slurred, trying to sound casual but failing miserably, "I still don't get it. There's no way you're just... perfect. Like, seriously. No one's perfect. You must have some insane kinks or something to make up for all this... perfection."

It was the alcohol talking, definitely. You didn't actually expect him to—oh god, what the hell was wrong with you?

Nanami's eyes widened as he sputtered into his drink, clearly choking on his sip. You blinked at him, suddenly realizing what you'd just said. Wait... Did I just casually imply he's got some weird fetishes?

He coughed, setting the glass down with an audible clink. "I—I'm not sure what you mean by that," he stammered, a rare crack in his usual composure.

Oh, hell yeah. That was the reaction you'd been waiting for. Your eyebrows shot up as your brain immediately jumped to conclusions.

"Oh my god," you said with a mock gasp. "You do have something weird, don't you? I knew it. I knew you were hiding some wild side." You giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks but pushing it down with another sip.

Nanami cleared his throat, suddenly looking anywhere but at you. "I—I'm not sure I follow." He was stuttering. Perfect, calm Nanami Kento was stuttering. You could barely suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're just so... perfect," you said, trying to drag out the word as you grinned mischievously. "And I refuse to believe it. So spill it. You're into, like, bondage, a sensei kink?- or... I don't know, something, right?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you could see the change in him. His face had gone a little redder—just the slightest flush—and for once, he was trying to collect his thoughts, like he was having trouble finding the right words.

Oh, this was gold.

"I—uh, that's not..." He trailed off, looking completely out of his element. You leaned forward, eyes sparkling with amusement, already so sure you were right.

"Wait, hold on," you teased, narrowing your eyes. "Are you actually blushing right now?" You leaned back, crossing your arms, trying not to burst out laughing. "I knew it. I knew you had some secrets. You're too perfect. There's gotta be some dark side hidden away."

His face deepened into a shade of red that was honestly kind of adorable. "It's not... what you think," he muttered, trying to recover his usual level of composure, but it was clearly slipping.

"Oh, it's exactly what I think," you said with a sly grin, clearly enjoying this too much. "You totally have some weird kinks. You can't be this perfect without one."

Nanami looked away from you, his hands fumbling with his now-loosened tie, and the rare, uncharacteristic fluster on his face was enough to make you smirk with satisfaction.

"I really think we should change the subject," he said, his voice just a little strained. "You're... you're making assumptions, and—"

"Sure, sure, but c'mon," you interrupted, leaning back into the couch, suddenly feeling far too smug. "You can't expect me to believe that a guy like you—so buttoned-up, so... professional—hasn't got a whole other side to him."

Nanami's gaze shifted to you again, his eyes a little sharper now, a little more guarded. But his lips twitched upward, just barely, like he was holding back a smile.

"You really are something," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I know. It's a gift," you retorted with a grin. Then, just to throw him off completely, you added, "But you should know... now that you've said that, I expect you to tell me all your deep, dark secrets."

He just shook his head, still looking at you with that faint, amused smile—like he knew you were right about something, but he wasn't ready to admit it.

"You've had enough for tonight," Nanami said, his voice still holding that playful tone despite his best efforts to appear unbothered. "Maybe we should leave the dark side conversations for another time."

You grinned, but your cheeks were still flushed, your tipsy state just making everything feel lighter, easier. "Right. Keep your secrets, Mr. Perfect."

But inside, you were already mentally crossing the line of how much you wanted to know about him. And, honestly? You were starting to think he was maybe, just maybe, starting to enjoy this little bit of teasing.

Oh, Nanami Kento. You were definitely going to get to the bottom of this.

*-*

You handed Nanami the oversized sweatpants and sweatshirt, trying to act casual, but really? You were a nervous wreck. Who even does this? You were practically offering him your bed like it was no big deal, but internally, your brain was screaming, what is happening? Why is this normal?

"Here," you said, handing him the clothes. "You can change into these. I'll... uh, go do my skincare routine or whatever."

You tried to act like you were totally fine with this. It wasn't like he was going to be using your bed, right? You just offered it for practical reasons. Because, you know, you'd be sleeping on the couch, and size-wise, it made more sense.

Nope. No big deal. At all. Nuh uh.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice polite, though there was a hint of confusion. "I can just take the couch."

You shrugged nonchalantly, though your stomach did some weird flip thing you couldn't explain.

"No, really. It's fine. You'd never fit on the couch anyway. Not that I'm saying I want to sleep on it, either, but..." You gestured vaguely, giving yourself a nice little internal eye roll. Smooth. Real smooth.

"Alright then," he said, taking the clothes with a tiny smile. "I'll take a minute."

You nodded and headed to the bathroom, eager to put some distance between yourself and the mounting awkwardness. You splashed some cold water on your face, scrubbing away your makeup like it was a shield you were throwing off. It wasn't like you wore a ton, but you still wanted to feel like you for a minute—no eyeliner, no mascara, actually you did wear a decent amout. Just you. Even if "you" was a person who had somehow invited Nanami Kento into her tiny dorm and handed him her pajamas.

God, this was weird. But hey, at least it was kind of fun to joke around with him. Sort of. Maybe. You tried to convince yourself of that.

After a quick skincare routine—your usual creams and moisturizers because you were basically living for that glow up—you stepped out of the bathroom and into the room, hoping you looked anything but like you were secretly dying of secondhand embarrassment.

You were in an oversized horror movie tee and Hello Kitty pajama pants. Classy and wooaaaa super sexy, right? It wasn't like you couldn't be comfortable just because he was here. You were allowed to be comfy. It was your space, for god's sake.

You found Nanami sitting awkwardly on the edge of your bed in the oversized clothes- well.. not on him, clearly not used to lounging in something that wasn't pristine and perfectly pressed. He didn't exactly look bad—of course he didn't, he was Nanami Kento, for Christ's sake—but there was something wrong about him in your mismatched pajama world.

He was too clean, too crisp, too neat.

"Uh, yeah, so, I don't know how comfortable this is for you," you said, gesturing at your bed, "but if you want, I can sleep on the couch and you can take the whole bed. I mean, I'm way more used to the couch than anyone should be."

He glanced over at you, expression as unreadable as always, though there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I'm fine," he replied, though his voice was just a little softer than usual. "It's... generous of you."

You rolled your eyes. "Don't worry, Nanami, it's not like you're actually doing me a favor. I'm the one who's getting the shitty end of the deal here."

Nanami gave you that look—the one that was so calm, so detached, it somehow made everything feel more intense. "You've been... kind to me. Even when you didn't have to be. I appreciate it."

You felt your face heat up. Why does he have to say stuff like that?

"Well, yeah, of course I'm being kind. You're basically stuck here because of the snowstorm, remember? I'm not that much of an asshole. I'm not offering you my bed just to be nice." You paused, barely holding back the dumb grin that was threatening to break free. "I mean, there are better options, but... hey, who else is gonna let you wear their stupidly oversized clothes?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Stupidly oversized?"

"Yeah," you said with a shrug, looking down- fuck that was the hint of a happy trail- you looked elsewhere.

For some reason, he laughed—a soft chuckle, but it was a real one. You weren't expecting that. The sound caught you off guard, making your stomach flip in an oddly nice way.

"Well, if that's the look you were going for," he said, "it's working."

You waved him off, still too embarrassed to even think about how ridiculous you must have looked. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

And with that, you flopped dramatically onto the couch, wrapping yourself in a blanket-hello kittie mind you- like it was some kind of shield from the weird tension that was starting to brew between the two of you.

It wasn't like anything had changed between you two. You were just two people stuck in a tiny dorm while the world outside was covered in snow.

No big deal.

A/N: i tried making this a bit funnier, bc awkwardness can be funny imo, i hope you guys like this! i kinda liked writing it, two more parts (that'll be pretty long)

#jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk #fluff #ao3fic #fanfic #aesthetically dying101 #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu nanami #kento nanami #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #angst to fluff #comfort #angst to comfort

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