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lovebugism · 5 months

Note

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t.

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of.

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own.

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface.

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You.

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway.

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer.

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth.

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look.

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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bluehoodiewoozi · 14 days

Text

Fools in Love

Kim Mingyu x fem!Reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff

Words: 10.5k

Warnings: adult language. mentions of stalking (no one’s actually stalked). reader has a lot of conflicting feelings and it takes her three to five business days to figure everything out.

[UNI AU] When Jeonghan made you declare a stranger in the library your new boyfriend, you had a very different outcome in your mind.

Note: for some reason, my bestie @luvlino really liked this fic as a WIP and I promised to finish it for her eventually, so here we are. anyways, we've been referring to this fic as "himbo!gyu" all this time

You should’ve known it wouldn’t end well.

The first sign should have been the shiver up your spine when Jeonghan’s lips quirked into a smile that you knew far too well. The second sign should have definitely been your voice of reasons cursing and hatching ridiculously elaborate escape plans.

He leaned forward against the table between you two, maintaining eye contact. “So what do you say?”

“Sorry,” you blinked and shook your head, “I wasn’t paying attention. What were you saying?”

Jeonghan clicked his tongue. “Of course you weren’t.”

“When is she ever?” Joshua half-joked, nose deep in an oddly specific magazine he’d picked up in a procrastination daze. He looked up briefly to give you a once over before humming to himself, “Honestly, it might be for the better.”

“As I was saying,” Jeonghan glared at Joshua before offering you a sickeningly sweet smile – and there was that shiver up your spine again –, “go up to pretty boy over there and tell him he’s your boyfriend now.”

“I don’t even like him,” you muttered, glancing at the boy as discreetly as you could. You almost bit your tongue at your hasty words because the slight furrow of his brow and his jawline had your heart screeching. You frowned, head whipping back to look at Jeonghan. “Wait, what’s in it for me?”

If his wide eyes were anything to go by, he was as clueless as you were. With a sheepish shrug, he offered, “I’ll buy you a candy bar? You like Snickers, right?”

You stared at him in wonder for a while but were soon interrupted by Joshua’s scandalised gasp. “Is it because Snickers is on sale at the convenience store this week?”

Jeonghan blinked slowly. “Why else?”

Your gaze drifted back to the mysterious student sitting across the library, now scribbling notes in his iPad between puzzled head-scratches. The part of you that wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and go through with the dare was growing by the second.

But before you could agree, the dad friend of the group finally decided to speak up. Seungcheol placed a hand on your shoulder and looked you right in the eyes. “You do know that you don’t have to agree to every bet Jeonghan gives you, right? Please tell me that you know that.”

Seeing the worry in his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you were starting to develop a gambling problem with the help of Yoon Jeonghan. But what’s one more bet anyway?

“One Snickers bar?” you repeated back and Jeonghan nodded. Your eyes narrowed. “Make it three and a can of cola.”

He had the audacity to gasp. “That’s robbery!”

“Not if you’re the one paying,” Joshua pointed out rather off-handedly, still more focused on his magazine. (You took a moment to identify the issue in his hands as ‘Practical Sheep, Goats and Alpacas’ and once again wondered how you became friends with this gem of a human.)

Jeonghan grumbled, slumping in his seat. “Fine. Three Snickers bars and a can of cola, but you have to go up to him and tell him he’s your boyfriend now and then walk away like nothing happened.”

“Bet.”

Beside you, Seungcheol sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I should’ve just joined the Italians for that group project back in the first year. Why did I choose you idiots instead of the Italians?”

“You love us.” Jeonghan winked. He then slumped in his seat, a soft pout on his lips. “By the way, speaking of the Italians, I found one of the girls crying last night.”

“Crying? Why?” you wondered. “Was she okay?”

“Apparently her boyfriend broke up with her, over text no less,” Jeonghan sighed, filled with compassion as always. “She looked really heartbroken. I had to comfort her for hours.”

Joshua frowned. “So that’s where you were.”

“Did you find out who the jerk was?” Seungcheol asked. “You should’ve at least gone and given him a good slap upside the head.”

“Kim Mingyu. That’s the jerk’s name.”

Seungcheol grimaced. “That guy deserves even worse. I swear there seems to be another heartbreak with his name written all over it every three days.”

“Well, anyways!” Jeonghan cheered up again, clapping his hands together excitedly. “You get to be the heartbreaker today, oh my dear (Y/n).”

“When are you going up to him then?” Joshua wondered, setting his magazine aside as curiosity took over. For someone claiming to be well-mannered, he sure loved any implications of impending drama. “I’m not sure how long he’ll stay cooped up in here.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, grabbing your bag and phone. “I’m going now and leaving you guys behind.”

“Oh, right!” Seungcheol smiled. “You said you’re going plant shopping, right?”

“Plant shopping?!” screeched Jeonghan, clearly caught unaware. “Don’t you already have, like, three plants?”

“I don’t have a neon pothos yet,” you reasoned timidly. Joshua nodded in approval as Seungcheol watched you with a fond smile, much resembling a proud father.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow before turning to Seungcheol. “And you’re telling me that I am a bad influence on her?”

“I’m going!” you called out softly, slow steps leading you away from the four-seat table in the art section of the library. You watched warily as the boys argued between themselves. “Guys?”

“– and just the other day you told her to –” Seungcheol interrupted himself with a cough to offer you a bright smile, silently asking you what you needed.

“I’m leaving,” you whispered theatrically loudly and nodded towards the mysterious stranger in front of whom you were about to make a fool out of yourself.

As always, Jeonghan was the first to catch on. He offered a wink. “Good luck, baby.”

You felt your lunch crawl up your throat at the nickname and the suddenly wide eyes of Joshua told you he felt the same way. You shook it off and headed towards the exit.

On the way out of the building, you took a deep breath and stopped in front of your victim’s desk. Feeling like a middle-schooler preparing to recite a poem by heart, you clasped your hands in front of your body and cleared your throat.

At the sudden interruption, the handsome man glanced up, eyes wide in surprise. He mirrored your smile, setting his pen aside as he waited for you to speak.

You didn’t need to look back to feel Jeonghan’s and Joshua’s curious stares on you. But you were nothing if not a good sport, so you forced your smile to brighten a little bit more before looking the man in his eyes and announcing, “As of right now, you are my boyfriend.”

If you hadn’t been the cause of it, the sudden drop of his jaw and the bulging of his eyes would have amused you beyond human comprehension. But unlike Jeonghan and Joshua, you did have an ounce of dignity and compassion, so you offered one last smile before scurrying out of the library.

As you set foot outside the library, you left behind a confused man and a half-hearted promise.

You spent the rest of the week praying and hoping and praying again that you wouldn’t run into the tall mysterious stranger who had become your friends’ newest inside joke. So far, you've been successful.

“Here,” Jeonghan slammed three Snickers bars down on your desk on Monday and sighed, “your payment.”

Your eyes naturally fell into a suspicious squint. “Where’s the cola?”

Jeonghan offered a tight-lipped smile and a pat on your shoulder. “Jihoon needs it more than you do. Think of the children, Y/n.”

You failed to see how Lee Jihoon who had just three days ago publicly threatened to choke Kwon Soonyoung with his freshly broken guitar string could be considered a child, but you assumed there was a good reason. So you decided to let it slide just this once (or at least until Joshua would feel bad for you and buy you the cola himself).

Until then, you would take what you could get.

Frankly, by this point, you were starting to forget about the library incident. It was just a bet like every other. This was no different from the time when Jeonghan dared you to guilt-trip Seungcheol into giving you his favourite hoodie.

Except when you caught the eye of a handsome stranger as he walked into the classroom, you knew that was about to change. His lips slowly curved into a smile and you just knew that this was the end of your life as you knew it.

Instinctively, you shuffled around to make yourself seem as small and insignificant as possible. The ceiling looked far more attractive than ever before while you hoped that maybe this man had terrible eyesight and he’d mistake you for part of the furniture. Or maybe he’d at least buy into the idea that it had been a different girl who harassed him at the library.

“I knew I recognized you from somewhere,” the man spoke a bit too smugly as he approached the desk you and Jeonghan had chosen for the lecture. His smile brightened even more. “I guess I’m your boyfriend now.”

But before you could protest or even comprehend what was happening, he winked and headed further back into the classroom. When you glanced over your shoulder, you found him sitting next to Jeon Wonwoo, a smile on his face. He offered you one last (and, in your opinion, excessive) wink before turning back to his seatmate.

You turned to glare at Jeonghan who looked just as baffled as you felt. Under your threatening stare, his silence slowly turned into nervous laughter. “Well… That was not the outcome I expected…”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” you couldn’t help but bite back before groaning and hiding your face in your hands. “Has he been in this class this whole time?”

“I guess he always sits towards the back,” Jeonghan concluded slowly, “so we wouldn’t have seen him but he would have seen us.”

You wished he’d come to that conclusion a few days earlier. “You owe me that cola and then some more, Yoon.”

Sitting across from you at the little campus cafe, Joshua shared a glance with Seungcheol. The latter shrugged so he decided he had to be the one to take action.

“So,” he started somewhat hesitantly, fully aware of what an angry you was capable of, “do you want to tell us what happened?”

“What do you mean?” you feigned ignorance all the while aggressively stirring your soup of the day. “Nothing interesting ever happens here.”

Thoroughly unconvinced, Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“I think something happened in class today,” Joshua elaborated slowly. It was only then that you remembered he had taken a fair share of psychology classes. “Do you want to talk about it? Was it Jeonghan again?”

As both a surprise and the expected outcome, you slammed your spoon on the table. “That jerk! Do you know what he did?”

Joshua’s almost failed attempt to swallow down a sarcastic comment could be seen by any bystander but you paid it no mind.

“Do you remember the guy from the library? You know, the one.”

“The tall guy?” Seungcheol wondered. You nodded. “I remember him.”

“Turns out he’s in our literature class!” You clapped your hands together in a fit of rage. “And now I have to spend the rest of the semester in the same room as him every Monday.”

Joshua blinked. “That doesn’t seem too bad.”

“He winked at me today. Twice. And he kept smiling at me too.”

“Oh.” Joshua tried to find a different word of comfort. He was out of words for the day. Perhaps his last psychology essay had really stolen half his personal dictionary. “That’s… rough, buddy.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Seungcheol whispered so faintly you barely heard. He glanced towards the door and surely enough, as if he’d heard your words in the wind, the man of the hour walked into the cafe.

You almost swooned at the way his shirt rode up a little as he stretched his arms up and at the smile and friendly greeting he offered the cashier. His voice soon filled the cafe with a sense of warmth, like he belonged right there.

“Busy day?” you heard him as the cashier as he made his way behind the counter. “Lots of customers today?”

The cashier chuckled. “Nothing more than usual. They’re your customers now though.”

You turned to Joshua and Seungcheol again, hiding your face behind your strategically placed menu. “He works here?!”

“Listen, I was not any wiser than you,” Joshua justified with wide and apologetic eyes. “Maybe he won’t recognize you.”

“I’m highly doubtful,” Seungcheol pointed out rather lazily, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window. “He’s recognized her once, what’s a few more times?”

You were deeply grateful for the silence that took over afterwards, happily ignoring the silent conversation of blinks and nudges your two friends were having. You lifted your hood up and stirred your soup a few more times before taking your first spoonful – the sooner you start, the sooner you finish, and the sooner you can leave this personal hell of yours to hide in your bedroom.

“Well, I think Cheol had a point in that,” Joshua suddenly whispered, nudging your leg under the table. For once, you had no intention to look up.

With a soft clink, a plate was placed on the table. You found a piece of the cake of the day in front of you and glanced up. The ‘boyfriend’ offered you a wide smile and nodded to your food. “Eat well. Cake’s on the house for you, sweetheart.”

Without another word, he shuffled back to the counter and resumed his task of re-organizing the cake display.

“...Did that just happen?” Seungcheol wondered, eyeing your cake in a way that made you wary with good reason. “And can I please have a bite?”

You blinked and pushed the plate towards your friend. His smile lit up the room as he reached for a spoon and began munching away. When you glanced towards the counter again, you found your ‘boyfriend’ watching you with a sweet smile, a puzzled look in his eyes and a puppy-like curious tilt to his head.

Promptly you made the decision to avoid this cafe at all costs.

The mysterious boy who hadn’t existed to you just a week ago suddenly seemed to be following you around like a shadow. He was everywhere you went. It almost felt like a bad dream.

He had already chewed you out of your favourite cafe and now he seemed determined to make it so there was nowhere you could go in peace.

You’d go to class, and 6 out of 10 times he was there too, already nose-deep in his notes at the back of the classroom. There was nowhere you could sit to hide from the glint of recognition in his eyes and the charmingly bright smile he directed your way each time.

You’d go to the grocery store and voila! He was there! Picking out watermelons like he knew exactly what he was doing (you were fairly sure he didn’t because, honestly, who even knows how to pick out watermelons?).

You’d go to the park across the street from the dorms and turn back on your heel because he was, once again, there, flexing his muscles as he warmed up for a run with his fratboy friends.

“I honestly think you’re being a little bit overdramatic,” Jeonghan told you softly as you attempted to hide behind a bookshelf at the library. You paid him no mind.

The mysterious ‘boyfriend’ was here as well. You had almost betrayed yourself and squeaked when you recognized him reading a book synopsis right next to you.

“Maybe he’s stalking me. Maybe that’s why he’s always exactly where I am,” you theorised while watching him like a hawk from your hiding spot. Jeonghan leaned his head out of the shadows to take a good look at the boy but you harshly pulled him back to hiding by his collar.

You glared at your friend before whispering, “You’ll get us caught like this, idiot!”

He raised an unimpressed brow. “Are you sure he’s the one stalking you and not the other way around?”

“I– That’s impossible! Who do you think I am?!” You so wished to curse him out but you still had some manners left. You scoffed. “Just shut up and let me suffer in peace.”

When you turned back to watch the mysterious guy, however, your soul almost left your body. He was right there – right in front of you, leaning against the bookshelf – smiling at you like it was the most natural thing.

“Hi,” he spoke. You wished his voice wasn’t so enjoyably husky.

You offered a tight-lipped smile, hand already reaching for Jeonghan’s sleeve to drag him out of the library and give him another earful for putting you in this situation. “Hi.”

It was hard to tell which was worse: the adorable smile the stranger offered you at your reply or the judgmental glare of Jeonghan which told you that your voice had betrayed you once again. You were doomed either way.

“I just realised we see each other so often but I don’t even know your name,” the stranger spoke and he seemed almost shy with the way he fiddled with the string of his black hoodie.

Before you could open your mouth to either tell him to leave or tell him a random name you came up with on the spot, Jeonghan jumped into the conversation a bit too enthusiastically, “I’m Jeonghan! This is my best friend, (Y/n). Please take good care of her for me. I have to go help my friend get his cat out of the oven.”

And just like that you had lost another friend. You’d be sure to tell Seungcheol about this to make his disappearance official. Traitors were not welcome in your group.

“Your name’s pretty,” the stranger told you softly, still fiddling and looking down at his sneakers. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he actually had a crush on you. “Pretty like you are.” He cleared his throat and looked at you once again, forcing a wide smile. “I’m Kim Mingyu.”

It took every ounce of muscle control and brain power you had left not to let your jaw drop.

“What?!” Seungcheol screeched before glaring at Jeonghan like he’d just been caught in the act of murdering a beloved family pet. “You little– You set her up with a frat boy!”

Jeonghan saw no problem with it. “I’m pretty sure you almost became a frat boy, Cheol.”

“That’s different!”

“And Joshua was literally in a frat until this year!”

Joshua did not appreciate his name being brought into this conversation. He rolled his eyes before offering you a look that told you that he blamed you for all of this. “You do realise I left the frat for a reason, right?”

“Yes, we know,” Jeonghan waved his protests away off-handedly, “you got caught making out with the president’s girl. Nothing to brag about.”

You could barely hold your laugh as Joshua’s jaw dropped, scandalised and exasperated. “Where did that rumour even come from?! Seriously! That is not what happened!”

“Eh, close enough.” Jeonghan shrugged. “Anyways, how was I supposed to know that guy was the Kim Mingyu? It’s not like he wears a name tag! None of you could recognize him either.”

A moment of realisation dawned on you. You let out a soft cry. “Dude, he sat with Jeon Wonwoo. Who else could he have been?”

“Wonwoo’s pretty okay though,” Joshua pointed out. “Not sure about Mingyu.”

“Didn’t Mingyu date like 30 girls just last semester? They say he’s sort of crazy about women or something. Falls in love too quickly.” Seungcheol sighed before glaring at Jeonghan. “You couldn’t have picked literally anyone else?”

“Who?” Jeonghan scoffed. “Joshua? You?”

“The fact that those are the only other options you saw is really concerning,” you mumbled while hiding your face in your hands.

Of course your luck had gotten you entangled in a situation with the university’s biggest womaniser. You were Screwed with a capital S.

“Just avoid him,” Seungcheol had drilled into your head that evening. “Avoid him and don’t look him in the eyes. Just walk in the opposite direction if you see him. Do not let him speak to you or you’ll fall into his trap.”

You leaned against the wall in front of the locked lecture hall door, lost in your thoughts. The laptop in your hands offered a nice grounding weight to remind you to not float too far away, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

Perhaps you should’ve found it amusing that your best friends were treating this guy as some sort of a mythical creature – a siren of some sort that could charm people into a relationship with a smile and two words. But you were more annoyed than anything.

How could this guy appear everywhere you went all the while offering you wide smiles! He seemed less harmful than a golden retriever puppy when he smiled and it annoyed you to no end. Perhaps you were more of a cat person…

“Hi!”

You almost jumped in your spot. Your lungs filled with air and your heart rate picked up immensely; it felt like you were coming back to life with the scare. With a wary tightening of your grip you made sure you hadn’t dropped your laptop.

Who in the hell–

“Damn it,” you cursed under your breath when you caught his eyes. By now you could recognize the chocolate-like shade of them anywhere. Remembering Seungcheol’s words, you quickly looked away and spoke no more.

Mingyu continued smiling at you – he always did – and spoke, “Did you sleep well last night? Have you had breakfast?”

A part of you felt bad for ignoring his caring questions. But feeling bad about this was better than getting scolded by Seungcheol… Mingyu could survive a one-sided conversation.

“Here,” he spoke again, his voice soon followed by plastic crinkling.

You felt the wrapper of a candy bar press against the back of your hand. It was impossible to ignore and so you opened your hand. A Snickers bar.

Looking up at him was your next mistake. You swear your heart malfunctioned when his smile widened a little. The twinkle in his eyes showed how proud he was of himself before his words could. “I bought it for you. I saw your friend give you three of those, like, weeks ago, so I figured…” He shrugged and looked away shyly. “I figured you might like it.”

Speaking was your second mistake that day. “I do. Thank you.”

The wide smile he offered in return would be engraved into your memory for weeks to come. “So you do speak!”

You realised your error then and there. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you looked up and down the hallway. “You thought I couldn’t?”

“Well, no,” Mingyu hummed. “It’s just that you’ve never spoken to me since that day at the library and I was getting worried.” He smiled again. “I like your voice. It suits you well.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, fingers grasping the candy bar and your laptop a bit tighter as you willed this interaction to end. Except a part of you – a stupid, dumb, hopelessly romantic part – didn’t want it to end yet. And so, you spoke again, “I didn’t realise you took this class too.”

“I had an annoying free slot in my timetable this semester, so I decided to sign up,” he told you easily, already moving to lean against the wall as well, positioning himself right next to you and just close enough for comfort. “It’s quite fun.”

“The professor’s great. Though the assignments–”

“Annoying, right?” he interjected with an annoyed groan and you couldn’t help but agree. “I mean, weekly reading diaries? 40 pages to read each week? Why?”

“The formatting is so dumb too,” you added. “It always takes me at least thirty minutes just to make sure it’s the correct format and reference style.”

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically. “I almost regret taking this class because of the stupid assignment formatting alone.”

You weren’t prepared for how your heart skipped a small beat at his next words.

“But seeing you here makes it a lot better.”

You decided to not tell your friends about the interaction. It was better this way. You could keep a secret from them. Easy-peasy.

It had already been an entire day and they had no idea. You could easily do this forever.

“You’re hiding something from us,” Seungcheol concluded just thirty seconds after you sat down across from him at the library. You gulped. “I don’t like this.”

Abandoning his magazine, Joshua raised an eyebrow, eyeing Seungcheol weirdly between curious glances at you. “How do you know?”

“I know my friends very well,” the oldest replied – his voice a pitch lower than usual to prove a point – and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, “and I know my friends would never ever lie to me or hide something from me.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, an arm wrapping around your anxiously shaky shoulders. “Does she look like a liar to you, Cheol? She’s not the lying type. Oh.” He offered you a worried look. “Are you cold? You’re shaking. Do want me to–”

“I knew it!” Seungcheol slammed his hands onto the table loudly enough to gain the attention of the entire student body at the library at that moment. You could not have felt more ashamed, but he seemed unbothered.

He practically hissed at you. “What aren’t you telling us? What’s so bad that you can’t tell us about it?”

“Wait, you’re actually hiding something?” Joshua caught on, gasping. “Seriously?” He leaned forward immediately, chest pressed against wood as he practically lied on top of the desk, barely inches from your face. “What is it?”

“You can tell us, you know,” Jeonghan softly told you. It was in these rare moments that you remembered why Jeonghan was your best friend among these three. “We’re not gonna be mad.”

But oh how wrong he was.

“I–” You took a deep breath under their curious gazes. “I might have spoken to Mingyu yesterday.”

“Might have?” Joshua sighed softly and fell back into his chair in defeat. “Great. So in (Y/n) language that means you had a heart-to-heart in front of the anthropology lecture room.”

You were a little concerned that he could read you that well.

“It’s not that bad,” Jeonghan defended you, almost offended on your behalf. “Why would she–” His eyes narrowed at the candy wrapper still peeking out from your pocket. He sighed right after and almost broke his chair with how heavily he leaned back into it. “Did he give you food? You spoke to him in exchange for food?”

Seungcheol caught your eye and looked like he wanted to slam his head against the wall. “(Y/n), what did we talk about last time?”

“You told me to avoid him,” you whispered shamefully.

“Right. I did. Because men are wolves and Kim Mingyu is the worst of them all.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes crinkling shut. “You’re gonna get your heart broken so bad, my dear.”

“He honestly doesn’t seem so bad though,” you pointed out after a pause of silence. “He’s pretty nice.”

“That is–” Joshua sighed deeply before letting out a sound akin to a sob. “That is exactly the problem. He’s too nice. He’s nice to all the girls and they all fall for him and he falls for them and then the perfect daydream is crushed and they break up and he moves onto the next girl that catches his eye. You’re going to get your heart broken like this.”

Seungcheol had now leaned his face onto the desk, forehead pressed against his textbook. “I’d honestly rather you dated Wonwoo. That guy at least doesn’t have commitment issues.”

“Who has commitment issues?” a familiar husky voice spoke from the side.

The four of you collectively jumped and stared at the source of the sound. Kim Mingyu, standing at the end of your four-seat desk with an awkward smile and a small pink bento box in hand.

“You– What are you doing here?” Jeonghan sputtered, hand reaching for yours protectively under the desk – a subconscious attempt to ground and comfort you.

Mingyu held up the container in his hand before sliding it over to you. He gave you an affectionate pat on the head before telling you, “I made you lunch. Figured you might need it with all the studying you have planned for today. I’m cheering for you! You’ll nail this assignment!”

Without another word – but not without one last shy yet charming sweet smile on his way out after he almost tripped over the carpet – he left you be. The food container remained in front of you.

Joshua stared at the box for a moment, mouth agape. “He brought you food?”

“How did he even know you’d be here?” Seungcheol wondered while scratching his head in thought. “Does he really stalk you?”

“No, but… I might have let it slip yesterday that I would be studying all day with you guys,” you mumbled and reached for the bento box somewhat sheepishly.

You barely managed to reach to open it before Seungcheol slid it away from you and opened it himself. The smell of warm homemade food filled the room.

Seungcheol glared at you when you tried to move to get your food back. He slid it further from your reach and picked up the chopsticks placed into the box. “I’m eating it. You don’t deserve to eat after what you’ve done.”

“He literally brought this for me though?” you grumbled but relented and leaned back into your seat.

You watched enviously as Seungcheol fed a bite to Joshua and the latter moaned in delight. “Oh my god, this is amazing. Wow. Is this homemade?”

“It sure looks like it,” Seungcheol sighed and offered you another glare before sliding the box closer to you again. “You’re so lucky I love you.”

You cheered quietly – you wouldn’t go hungry this time.

It seemed that Mingyu’s boldness dialled up by one notch every week.

Gone were the days when you’d go to class on Mondays, fearing (read: hoping) he’d meet your eyes and smile at you as he walked to the back of the class.

You came to the realisation as both you and Jeonghan stared at him on this Monday morning.

Softly gasping for air but still carrying an air of nonchalant pride that seemed to follow him everywhere, Kim Mingyu slumped into the otherwise free seat on your other side. He let out a groan and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“God, I hate the stairs,” he eventually sighed before straightening up again and offering you a small smile. “Hi.”

You looked at him, glanced back at where Wonwoo was seated – nose deep in his Macbook, a little too deep in the day’s readings –, and back at him. Jeonghan did the same. You shared a look. Then, you turned to Mingyu and asked, “Are you okay?”

Both he and Jeonghan seemed baffled by your question. But whereas Jeonghan’s confusion could be described as “that is not what we discussed, girl??”, Mingyu's seemed to be more joyous.

His smile brightened just a bit. “Yeah,” he breathed out, “I’m just scared of elevators.”

Not what you had asked for, but you decided you’d take it.

“You climbed up the stairs?” Jeonghan wondered, eyes widening by the second. “Five floors?”

“The elevator is terrifying, okay?” Mingyu whined and rested his head on your shoulder.

You barely noticed the gesture, instinctually leaning your head to rest on his. It was only Jeonghan’s disbelieving glare that seemed to snap you out of whatever Mingyu-induced daze you were in.

You startled back upright, surprising Mingyu who straightened up as well, head whipping around to find whatever had scared you so. When he found nothing even remotely threatening, he blinked in surprise. “What was that?”

Under Jeonghan’s amused stare, you cleared your throat and feigned nonchalance. “What was what?”

“That– You– I– You–” Mingyu stuttered almost frantically, unable to find the words. You decided he was rather cute after all.

No, dumbass. You had made a promise to Seungcheol – no boyfriends, especially ones named Kim Mingyu. You shook your head to remind yourself of that when you almost drowned into the browns of his confused eyes.

“I think the lack of oxygen is getting to you,” Jeonghan decided to save you this time. He leaned his head on his hand propped up on the desk. When you and your “boyfriend” looked at him weird, he shrugged. “He climbed up five floors. His poor brain’s probably on the verge of dying.”

While you thought it was ridiculous, the half-assed explanation seemed to fit Mingyu’s logic just fine.

“Well, there does tend to be less oxygen up high,” Mingyu agreed, eyes narrowing in thought and head nodding along. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

It didn’t make sense but you weren’t in any mood to explain the modern wonder of air conditioning and ventilation to this poor guy yet. Maybe on your fifth date.

Wait–

Before you could gather your thoughts, the professor cleared her throat and began the lecture. All eyes were on her – for the first two minutes anyway.

But you were still perplexed. Had you just really considered – even in a roundabout way – actually dating Kim Mingyu? You glanced to your left; he sat right there, pretty brown eyes fully focused on the lecturer, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard… The warm lights of the lecture hall seemed to make him glow.

Ethereal. Breathtaking. His jawline must’ve been sculpted by the gods themselves.

No wonder all the girls fell for him.

As you were about to shake that thought from your head, you felt Jeonghan lean closer to you. Your heart stopped as you felt his breath on your ear. He whispered, “Don’t let Seungcheol find out about your crush.”

Gritting your teeth, you considered your options:

a) You could pretend you didn’t hear him – he’d never let you live it down though.

b) You could just shrug it off and act like he was dumb for even suggesting you’d have a crush on a heartbreaker like Kim Mingyu – but he knew you better than that and you’d be caught in a lie.

c) “He won’t find out if you don’t tell him,” you whispered back, glaring at him over your back.

Jeonghan’s lips curved into an amused smirk, his brow quirking up. “Yeah? And how do you know I won’t tell him your little secret?”

“Because if you do, I’ll tell him it was you who’s been sneaking expensive drinks on our pub bills.”He paled immediately – option c: success.

As you walked to class on Thursday, you decided to stop acting like you disliked Mingyu.

Coming to terms with your crush had taken a few mental breakdowns and a few too many crying-emoji-filled messages to Jeonghan over the last two days. It was a small price to pay.

For the first time since that fateful day at the library, you approached him first. You headed straight towards the lecture room, beelined straight for him – leaned against the wall, reading something off his phone –, and offered him a friendly smile. “Hi.”

He looked up immediately – with such force that you worried his neck would snap – and mirrored your smile. You had to hold back from swooning; god, he really did look like a golden retriever puppy.

“Hi,” he replied and locked his phone, hiding it in his back pocket and reaching for your hand on instinct. Unfortunately, you hadn’t come to terms with your crush that much yet, and so you hid your hands behind your back. He seemed to take the hint just fine.

His smile never disappeared as he watched you, seeming to almost adore you just for standing in front of him. “Something feels different today,” he finally mentioned. “I like it.”

“Yeah?” You laughed.

“Yeah,” he nodded decisively, and you felt proud for doing something to brighten his day, only for your heart to skip a beat at his next words, “you should smile more often.”

“I– What?”

His grin widened. “You almost never smile at me. But you’re smiling today. I like that.”

If you hadn’t decided to just accept your new-found crush earlier, you sure would have now.

His ears burned red – as you felt yours must have been – and he cleared his throat while bashfully looking at the ground. He bounced in his spot for a moment before asking, “Did you eat yet?”

“Had a granola bar on the way here,” you confessed shamefully after a moment of thought. “In my defence, I almost missed my bus.”

“Same here,” he laughed, glancing up again. He hesitated only for a moment before suggesting, “Do you want to come to the cafe with me after the class?” When you didn’t immediately answer – too busy trying to figure out if this was real or you had developed a very bad case of hallucinations – he softly added, "I could get you cheesecake for free.”

And just like that you were ready to marry this man. Seungcheol, Joshua and Jeonghan could eat dirt – they were probably just jealous that you were getting someone’s attention and they were sad unlovable loners. Yeah, that was definitely it. No other reason why they’d try to prevent you from falling in love with this wonderful guy who was promising you free cheesecake.

“I’d love that,” you replied with a bright smile.

Exactly two hours later, you found yourself in a booth at the café you had previously sworn to boycott, sitting across from the very reason you had declared your boycott to begin with. Life is strange, you concluded, but found yourself unable to look away from him.

“Cheesecake for the lady,” Mingyu smiled proudly as he presented the plate to you. Seeing your thankful and excited smile, he winked, “I made sure to get you the biggest slice they had.”

You could’ve kissed him on the mouth for that comment alone.

“So,” he began as the two of you settled further into your seats, getting more comfortable, “what’s your major?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer his question before shooting back, “And you?”

“Graphic design,” he told you with a shrug. “It was either that or business.”

“Nice,” you nodded along though you were unable to find any further words. You silently cursed yourself for being so damn awkward with strangers. Did Mingyu even count as a stranger? Was he your friend? An acquaintance? Your boyfriend?

He seemed to sense your internal turmoil, reaching a hand over the table to hold yours. “Are you always this awkward with people?”

“Only at the beginning,” you confessed and felt his fingers tighten around yours in a comforting manner. “I promise I’m not usually this boring.”

“I mean,” he chuckled, “you seemed rather bold at the library that day. I thought that confidence carried over into other situations.”

“Only occasionally.”

But he didn’t seem to mind. “That’s okay. I like a challenge anyway.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Yeah? Then how come you’re not a challenge yourself?”

“What do you mean?” His ears burned a shameful red again.

“Any normal guy would’ve acted like nothing happened,” you told him. “But you started getting me snacks and making small talk in front of the lecture hall.”

The red of his ears got darker by the second. But he cleared his throat and shrugged almost bashfully. “Can you blame me? It’s not every day a pretty girl tells me to be her boyfriend.”

Your breath hitched. “You think I’m pretty?”

“The prettiest,” he confessed with a shy smile and your heart was completely spoken for.

You had one single duty to your friends: to always tell the truth. As much as it pained you, you had to tell them about Mingyu.

Because, for one, Seungcheol wouldn’t stop asking about him.

And, for two, because you had learnt there was no use lying to them because they each seemed to have a built-in lie detector.

But coming to terms with your inability to lie to your three friends came with horrible consequences.

And by consequences, you meant Seungcheol and Joshua grilling you about your relationship with Mingyu as if you had committed a crime most vile, complete with Jeonghan viewing the interrogation from the sofa with a bowl of popcorn.

“It wasn’t a date,” you tried to defend yourself. “We just went to the café after the lecture.”

“Yeah, the café,” Joshua emphasised as you stared at him dumbly, “the place where couples go on first dates.”

“It wasn’t a date,” you repeated yourself with a sigh. “It was just coffee and a slice of cake.”

Seungcheol paced around on the rug, already wearing holes into his dark socks. He ran a hand through his hair before pointing at Jeonghan. “You; you’re planning a first date with your crush. Where do you take them?”

Your head immediately snapped to glare at Jeonghan, daring him to say as much as a word – you knew exactly where this was going. He responded with a mischievous smile and you turned to scream into a cushion before he could even open his mouth.

Fortunately, Jeonghan was a nice friend and patiently waited for your screaming to stop before answering in a clear voice, “To the campus café to get coffee and a slice of their favourite cake.”

You threw the cushion right at his head. He only laughed.

Seungcheol, as if unaware of Jeonghan’s very clear plot against you, gestured widely before glaring at you. “Do you see my point?”

“It was not a date–” you began again, perhaps hoping that repeating the sentence enough times would make the guys magically believe you and forget the argument. But your speech was interrupted by the unmistakable ringtone off your phone.

You checked your pockets but it wasn’t there. Instead, to your horror, you found that Joshua had it right there, in the palm of his hand. He eyed it suspiciously before looking up to smirk at you. “Loverboy doesn’t seem to think so though.”

Your heart sank and soared at the same time.

Mingyu said it was a date? Fuck. Now you had lost your only argument.

On the other hand… Mingyu thought it was a date? Aw.

That latter thought seemed to betray you to Seungcheol. His glare hardened. “(Y/n)!”

“Okay, so it was a date!” you burst before sighing and curling into yourself on the armchair. “Is it a crime to date? Is it that bad that I like someone?”

Your question was met with a softening gaze. Whether it was your words or something else about your behaviour, the three seemed to suddenly become guilty and remorseful.

“No, it’s– You– I–” Seungcheol stuttered to find the words. His posture had suddenly sunk from big and intimidating to tiny and slumped. He exchanged worried glances with your other two friends before letting out a soft whine and stumbling over the carpet to hug you to his chest. “It’s not bad that you like someone. Of course you can date whoever you want.”

“Just not Mingyu?” you scoffed but made no move to leave his embrace. His stubborn personality and overprotective nature be damned, but he gave the best and warmest hugs you had ever experienced. You doubted anyone could give better hugs.

He sighed. “I– Don’t make me feel bad about this. God, I can’t do this–”

“We just don't want you to get hurt,” Joshua took over, reaching over to pat your head. “Mingyu kind of has a reputation.”

“I don't think he does it on purpose though,” you mumbled.

“I don’t either,” Joshua hummed, “but the fact is that he leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes. He falls fast and hard but he loses interest just as quick. We don’t want you to be one of the broken girls he leaves behind.”

“Bet I can fix him,” you stubbornly joked and chuckled but you weren't fully convinced it was a joke anymore.

Joshua laughed. “I’m sure you can.”

“Can’t you guys just be a little more supportive?” you sighed, finally leaning out of Seungcheol’s embrace. “If he breaks my heart, so be it.”

“You don’t deserve your heart broken by a fratboy with commitment issues,” Joshua told you gently. “That’s the whole thing.”

You heard a scoff from over on the sofa. “She’s not in love with you, Shua.”

Joshua’s and Seungcheol’s heads snapped up immediately, one glaring at Jeonghan and the other at you.

“Me?!”

“LOVE?! YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH HIM???”

You vowed that if you went to jail this year, it would be for the death of Yoon Jeonghan. You hoped your glare over Seungcheol’s shoulder was enough to convey your intentions.

“Fine, you can go on a second date with Mingyu,” Seungcheol had told you, much like a father lecturing his rebellious teenage daughter, “but only if we come along.”

And so, you went on your second date to the fair with Kim Mingyu, accompanied by one menacing bodyguard and your two mostly normal friends. And what a date it was.

Holding onto him tight as he all but cried into your shoulder, you wondered how this poor coward had even gotten this far in life.

“It’s okay,” you told him, patting his head as you exited the haunted maze attraction. “See, we’re out already! You’re fine.”

The date had been so nice so far. He had paid for the tickets (all of them, which seemed to get him in Jeonghan’s good graces) and bought you a themed headband to wear. He had won you a bear plushie from a no-doubt rigged stand, only smiling proudly as the attendant glared and handed him the prize. The butterflies in your chest couldn’t have been more fluttery and excited than they had been this entire evening. The perfect date, 10/10, you understood why so many girls fell for the Kim Mingyu.

But then you had discovered your boyfriend’s fatal flaw: despite his imposing size and the visible definition of his muscles, he was an absolute coward.

Though he had put on a confident act while waiting in the queue, it took him no less than two minutes to start screaming in fear and using you as a shield from the scare actors.

As you tried your hardest to comfort him, wiping the tears of fear from his cheeks and rubbing gentle circles into his back, Jeonghan was cackling behind you like a maniac, finding great joy in your boyfriend’s distress. “Are you scared of clowns, Kim Mingyu? Clowns?”

“I’m scared of a lot of things, but clowns aren‘t one of them!” Mingyu bravely shouted at him, eyes blood-shot and throat sore from all the screaming and squealing he had done these past fifteen minutes, before his words dawned on him. “I meant–”

With a judgemental nose scrunch, Joshua nudged your side and scoffed out a short laugh before whispering, “You sure know how to pick them, huh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you growled at him but paid him no more attention as Mingyu grabbed onto your arm with yet another screech of fear.

“Dude,” Seungcheol sighed deeply, defeated and tired of your fair adventure, “that was just a pigeon.”

“Birds are scary,” Mingyu retorted immediately.

“Not pigeons,” Jeonghan told him with an equally exhausted sigh. “They’re about as harmful as you are. No one ever, in the history of this planet got physically attacked by a pigeon.”

“Well, actually–” Joshua began but was promptly cut off by your elbow between his ribs.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” you asked Mingyu, squeezing his hand for comfort. “Maybe we could go eat? Or just walk around?”

He hesitated. “I was actually hoping we could– Nevermind. That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fun. What were you thinking?”

“... The ferris wheel?” He side-eyed your friends for the briefest moment before adding in a whisper, “Just the two of us?”

Without a moment to think about it (because god knows you’d be caught by Seungcheol), you tugged on his hand and began running towards the queue for the ferris wheel, glancing behind you to make sure they hadn’t followed you.

“What was that?” Mingyu giggled as you came to a stop.

“You said you wanted to come, just the two of us,” you told him with a shrug and an award-winning smile. “Keep a low profile and they won’t find us.”

“Why are they here with us anyway?” he wondered before quickly correcting himself, “Not that I think they’re bad or annoying or something– It’s just that–”

You laughed and glanced through the growing crowd at where your trio of friends were looking around nearly frantically, like a pack of guard dogs trying to figure out where the sound had come from. “They’re overprotective and think you’re bad news.”

“Me?” Lips pursing into a small pout, he seemed a little dejected at the thought. “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Do you think I’m bad news? That I’m not good for you?”

The sadness in his beautiful brown eyes made you weak inside. You were ready to spill every truth and lie and everything in between just to make him happy again. But before you could, the staff member in charge of the wheel greeted you with a tired smile and asked for your tickets and, before you knew it, you were seated in the gondola.

You had read enough romance novels to know where this would lead.

Or so you thought, until the wheel was three metres off the ground and Mingyu was the palest you had ever seen him, eyes wide with fear as he looked at anything but the windows.

“You good?” you asked him carefully, reaching your hand across the gondola to squeeze his knee. He didn’t answer. And then it dawned on you – the very same realization from just twenty minutes ago – your boyfriend was the dictionary definition of a coward. “... Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

Shaking a little from the fear travelling through his veins, he took a sharp breath. “I won’t.”

“But are you?”

“Yes. Deathly.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony. “You were the one that suggested we come on the ferris wheel!”

“I didn’t think it would be this bad if you’re with me!” he practically whined, eyes squeezed shut, his hand searching for yours for comfort. “I just wanted this date to be romantic for you. What good date doesn’t end with a ferris wheel ride?!”

Why was your stupid cowardly boyfriend making your heart flutter again like this? Just a few simple words that he probably hadn’t even thought through and you were melting all over again.

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier for you?” you offered.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. All you’ve done today is comfort me and tell me it’s fine but, really, you must think I’m a coward and an idiot.”

Well, he wasn’t completely wrong. But it’s not like you were ever going to tell him.

“Actually, can you just tell me when we’re going down again?” he added soon after, voice cracking. He paused. “Or, well, actually don’t do that because you must already think I’m pathetic and I don’t want to ruin this for you and–”

You weren’t sure why or how, but you found yourself pressing your lips to his. His rambling cut off with a noise of surprise and before long, he leaned closer to you, still squeezing your hand with his, and nearly melted into the kiss.

When you pulled away, nose still brushing against his, he let out a shaky breath that sounded just a little bit like a laugh. “What was that for?”

“I– You–” you stuttered, unable to believe your own actions. You leaned further away from him, clearing your throat as the gondola came to a stop at the bottom of the wheel, the staff fumbling with the door to let you out. “We’re back on the ground.”

“We are?” he breathed out and finally opened his (admittedly hazy) eyes. “Oh. I guess we are.”

As you stepped out of the gondola and began on your way back towards the front gate, he linked your arms, playing with your fingers. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“You were almost crying,” you told him with a good-hearted laugh and a nudge. “Please do us both a favour and never take your date to a haunted maze or to the ferris wheel ever again.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” he laughed, sheepish.

“There you two are!” Jeonghan’s voice sounded from behind you. You turned to offer him a smile. He replied with a sarcastic one of his own before yelling as loud as he could (which, admittedly, was not very loud at all), “Cheol! Shua! I found the fools in love!”

As your trio of friends slowly gathered, you were still focused on Mingyu. The fairy lights had no right to make him look so beautiful. You were certain you would dream of him tonight.

“The haunted maze aside,” you started, voice low as to not let your friends hear, “I enjoyed this date.”

He grinned brightly. “Me too. But I suppose everything’s just better with you.”

“Same time next week?” you half-joked. “I’ll do the planning this time though.”

“Only if you promise there won’t be any more haunted mazes,” he mumbled to cover up the fact that you had him wrapped around your fingers, wound so tight he could never think of letting go.

“It’s a date,” you laughed and kissed his cheek just as Seungcheol walked over to drag you away by your arm. “Hey!”

“It’s past your curfew,” he deadpanned while Jeonghan and Joshua snickered behind you.

You scoffed. “I’m an adult?!”

“You snuck away with your boyfriend!” he accused, looking almost actually offended by your actions. “What adult does that? And with a frat boy of all things?”

“I think they’re cute,” Joshua argued with a kind smile, having always been the most hopeless romantic of the bunch. “He’s like a golden retriever in love.”

“Golden retriever?" Seungcheol scoffed. “He towers over all of us. He’s a great dane if anything.”

As if to prove your friends’ point, the sound of rapid footsteps echoed from the pavement.

Always the most brave of the three, Jeonghan turned his head to take a look. He let out a disbelieving laugh. “(Y/n), your puppy’s coming with us.”

“My what?” you wondered, brows furrowing as you turned to see whatever it was he had noticed. Your heart fluttered at the sight of Mingyu running up to you with a bashful smile.

“I–” he gasped out, struggling to breathe.

Your friends and you were equally breathless, mostly from shock.

He took one more deep breath – all the while glaring at the starry sky as if to curse the gods for giving him such a poor lung capacity – and then turned to smile at you again, “What kind of a date would I be if I didn’t walk you to your front door?”

“One without a death wish,” you swore you heard Seungcheol mumble under his breath. But you weren’t too worried about him (he couldn’t hurt a fly even if he wanted to), especially when you had a whole Kim Mingyu running to you.

“You don’t have to–” you started.

But he shook his head and smiled a little prouder before offering his arm. “Here, I’ll keep you safe.”

“What are we? Just random street rats?” Jeonghan wondered while looking awfully amused. “You think one of you can protect her better than three of us?”

While Mingyu looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, red ears and all, you came to his defence with a discerning stare directed at your three friends. You shrugged. “I certainly feel safer with him.”

With a pained groan and a hand to his chest as if to will his heart to stop hurting, Jeonghan grabbed Seungcheol by the arm. “C’mon, great dane, he’s clearly got it covered.”

Seungcheol blinked at him, baffled. “You’re not seriously thinking of– Jeonghan! We can’t just leave them!”

You gave your best friend a begging look. As much as you could never admit it to Seungcheol, you longed for more time with Mingyu. And if it was just the two of you? You were giddy at just the prospect of it.

“I’ll pay for your pizza,” Jeonghan offered begrudgingly, sending you one last warning glare before practically dragging Seungcheol away. Joshua – much to your joy – was happier to leave you with your new boyfriend, only giving you one last hug and a wave goodbye before following the others and joining in their banter.

You looked up to find Mingyu staring after them in utter surprise. “They actually left us alone? Willingly?”

“I guess so,” you feigned coyness. “So, you’re walking me home then?”

“Most happily,” he agreed before shrugging off his jacket and – to the detriment of your poor fluttering heart – draped it over your shoulders. “There, now you’ll be warm.”

“You didn’t have to–”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted with a sweet smile before offering you his arm again.

You swallowed the butterflies threatening to break out and linked your arm with his with a shy smile. And so, side by side, you walked to your home. The conversation was almost nonexistent as you simply enjoyed each other’s presence in the silence of the night.

“Can I ask something?” Mingyu suddenly broke the blissful quiet air.

You hummed in agreement.

He took a deep calming breath before blurting, “Why me?”

“... What?”

“Why me?” he repeated himself a little more certainly. “Why would you choose me as your boyfriend?

There was another moment of silence. How could one tell someone as loving and sweet as Mingyu that you were dating him only because of a stupid joke? A small bet that was never meant to go further than a sentence of a prank and five minutes of confusion? You feared you’d shatter his heart.

But still you had to come clean eventually.

It was funny really, you thought, that a week or two ago, you wouldn’t have hesitated to answer at all. You would’ve laughed it off and told him it was just a silly joke and to not take it so seriously. You would’ve texted the group chat telling Jeonghan he owed you another Snickers bar for the humiliation of having to explain yourself to a fratboy.

And today your heart hurt at the idea of breaking his.

Mirroring his earlier preparations, you took a deep breath to ease your nerves and calm your heart before answering, “It was Jeonghan who picked you.”

“For you to date?” Mingyu wondered, brows furrowing in confusion. “That’s a little odd, I suppose, but–”

“No, it was– It was a bet. At first.” You didn’t dare to look at him as you spoke. (And if you had, you would’ve seen his facade of confidence crack just a little.) “We were just at the library and Jeonghan bet me a coke and a Snickers bar to tell you… what I told you that day. I wasn’t– You– We weren’t ever supposed to meet again. Well, maybe as a passing glance in the hallway or something, but not like this. It wasn’t meant to be serious.”

“Oh.” You didn’t need to look at him to know how dejected he must have felt.

“But!” you rushed to mend his heart, “But then I got to know you and you made me lunch and you smiled at me all pretty and you spoke to me even when I was being weird and mean– Look,” you stopped mid-step and grabbed his wrist to stop him as well, forcing him to face you before you spoke with as much conviction as you could muster up, “this whole thing might have started because Jeonghan offered me candy, but I swear on everything that I hold dear that… that I really like you. I’ve come to really like you so much, Mingyu.

“I can’t imagine a day without you anymore. When you miss our lectures, I spend all day worrying something happened to you. When you don’t smile, I want to go and kick whoever made you sad or mad. I just really love you a lot – even if it wasn’t so at first. Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, nodding slowly, his eyes glimmering a little. “I mean… I always guessed you didn’t say those things because you actually felt something for me and–” He paused, eyes clearing, brows furrowing, ears tinting red. “Did you just say you love me?”

“I– You– What? No,” you laughed and felt nervous all of a sudden.

You couldn’t have!?

… Could you?

His dejected puppy-eyes became cheerful half-moons as he grinned widely. “You did! You love me!”

You weren’t sure you had enough proof to argue, so you kept quiet and prayed he wouldn’t see right through you. You hadn’t meant to let those words slip so early. You hadn’t meant to even feel this way. But you couldn’t lie and argue.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Mingyu leaned closer to speak softly, “I’ve been thinking about how I love you too.” He let out a sheepish laugh. “Really, I was worried I’d be too forward and scare you away if I told you that already. I mean, it’s only our – what? – second date?”

“You really do fall hard and fast, huh?” you wondered out loud.

He scoffed. “Who told you that?”

“My friends.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll have you know that you’re the first I’ve felt this way about.

“Yeah?” You pursed your lips in thought. “If that’s true, then you should kiss me right now.”

Mingyu chuckled and shook his head. “I fear that might be a little too forward.”

“Really?” You quirked a brow. “And a love confession on the second date isn’t?”

“You’re the one who started it! Besides,” he linked your arms and led you to keep walking towards your home, “I’m a little scared of your friends and I’m pretty sure the one with big muscles will kick my ass if I don’t take you on at least two more dates before I kiss you.”

You weren’t entirely sure he was joking.

“Fine,” you sighed, defeated in the game of love. “But those two dates better be great. I’m speaking five-star restaurant, dinner and a concert by the seaside, watching The Titanic in the moonlight kind of romantic.”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry, baby,” he assured you and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Baby. You had to physically hold back from smiling and blushing all giddy.

#svt scenarios #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu

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lemonsprite · 1 month

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𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 || 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 (𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: he’s so sorry!!

Word count:

Warnings: angst I suppose <\3 (but also comfort) and not beta read TT I have horrible grammar

A/N: needed to put a break in bc this bitch is too long!!!!!!!! I want Hugh Jackman on a primal level

Logan’s back was killing him. He was hunched over a barstool, currently nursing a Pilsner while drowning in self pity- not like he had much else to do at the moment.

“I’m cutting you off man, you look like shit.” Remarked the bartender, looking down at Logan with sickening pity. “Go home.”

“Don’t have one.” Logan bite back, his voice no louder than a grumble as he sulked. That was a lie. He had a home, with Charles, and Scott, and Ororo, and a hundred other mutants but all of that was a faraway thought for Logan. No, all he really cared for right now was how much he missed your warm bed. He missed his home, your home.

The bartender raised a disapproving eyebrow at Logan and he could tell when he wasn’t wanted.

Groggily and very drunk, Logan stood from the barstool, holding onto the counter of the bar for help as he made his way to the front door, the bright illuminated ‘open’ sign causing his eyes to squint and the already tell tale signs of a killer hangover tomorrow to kick in.

Outside was dead silent, even the crickets seemed afraid to chirp in the presence of Logan as he stumbled his way down the street to an old rain rusted payphone, covered in shitty aged graffiti.

The humid summer air stuck to Logan’s skin, and he slapped at his neck, attempting to kill a pesky mosquito as he fumbled for his wallet.

Logan’s leather wallet that was held together by a single string only contained two things.

One- a very very expired drivers license, and two- a crinkled old Polaroid of you, smiling happily five years ago when you and Logan first met. On the back, scribbled in almost illegible chicken scratch was a slew of numbers, numbers his shaking fingers began to dial on the old payphone.

Logan brought the receiver up into the ear, doing the old song and dance when it came to shitty pay phones like these before the robot operator instructed him to say his name into the phone.

“It’s Logan, sorry to bother Bub… I know it’s late.” He mumbled quietly into the receiver, playing anxiously with the long coiled line of the phone.

Patiently he waited for one second, then two before the stress relieving sound of a click could be heard from the other end.

“Is everything okay Logan?” You asked, your voice soft, half asleep, and full of worry.

Logan paused for a moment, thinking over his next words as best as his intoxicated mind could.

“Yeah… yeah there’s just a lot goin’ on right now and I dunno…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just needed to hear your voice…”

He leaned against the phone booth, the receiver tucked securely into his shoulder as he realized how utter pathetic he must’ve looked currently.

“Where are you? Do you need help?” You questioned, your voice writhe with anxiety and he could hear you throwing on your bath robe and slippers, grabbing your car keys and unlocking the front door.

Logan felt horrible for crawling to you, begging for help when he was the one to push you away in the first place but another, very drunk, selfish side of himself yearned to hold you in his arms and sleep in once more on your queen size mattress.

“Nah. I don’t need help.” Logan finally decided, his voice a mixture of gruff stoicism and… something else.

There was a small pause. A moment of reconsideration.

“I’m at the phone booth across the bar.” He admitted, voice low and slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll be there in five.” You reply sternly, the phone line going dead with a familiar disconnecting click.

Logan couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Even though he’d never admit it, some old still hopelessly in love part of him was happy to know you’d still be willing to drop everything at two AM and hunt him down at some dingy dive bar.

True to your word, within five minutes, Logan heard the noise of your old car approaching. The headlights illuminating the cement and causing Logan to squint. You pulled over, stopping a foot from the phone booth.

The cars window rolled down revealing you, your hair still tousled from sleep and your bathrobe barely clinging to your shoulders.

“Get in Lo’… you can spend the night at my place.” You frowned, pursing your lips as you gestured with your head for Logan to get into the passenger seat.

Logan’s usual stern expression melted away upon seeing you for the first time in what felt like forever. Your anxious expression matching his as he climbed into your car, feeling himself melt back into the seat like he’d never left.

“Lead the way bub.” He hummed coarsely, the seat creaking under his weight and his muscular body taking up a large portion of the cabin.

Now thoroughly sobered up, the drive home was filled with awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut into it like butter. The roads were dark and your eyes stay glued to the road almost as if you were ignoring Logan’s presence.

The cars headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the deserted streets as Logan tapped his fingers against the edge of the window, his heart tight with a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia.

Logan stole glances now and again at your face. Taking in the familiar lines etched into your skin and the way you pursed your lips when concentrating.

“Been awhile since I’ve been here huh?” He asked, attempting to break the awkward silence as his chair creaked in protest when he attempted to lean back.

“Missed you Lo’.” You said softly, almost quiet enough for Logan to not hear. “I think about you every day… wether your alive or dead… happy or injured and bloody…”

Logan bite his lip, taken aback by the sudden sincerity of your words, not expecting that much vulnerability from you. He glanced over, his eyes meeting yours before quickly returning to the dark pavement road.

A cold pang of guilt curled in his stomach as he swallowed.

“Bub…” he started, clearing his throat gruffly. “I… didn’t want you to worry about me… y-… you know I’m always fine…”

Logan stumbled through his words, finding it tough to even wrestled them out of his throat.

He could see you thinking over his words, biting at your lip as you gaze turned disapprovingly towards the road. You obviously disagreed with him but kept your words to yourself as the drive continued on.

Eventually your car pulled into the driveway of your small home. Pulling the keys from the ignition, the engine putter to a stop as you climbed out of your car, slamming the door shut in a way Logan could tell was venting your anger.

Logan followed, standing quietly outside the car and staring up at your house just now realizing how much he’d missed all this. The familiarity of it all.

His keen senses picked up the scent of your home. A mixture of you and old wood. Logan shove his hands in his pockets and looked up at you with a strange combination of trepidation and anticipation.

“Come in, I’ll get you something warm to drink.” You offer quietly, fidgeting with your key ring to unlock the front door.

Logan followed you inside, his steel toed boots thumping against the hardwood floor. He took in the sight of the place, the walls and shelves filled with small trinkets and photos.

His gaze lingered on a photo of the two of you. It was an old photo, taken back in the early days of your relationship and something tore at his insides that night coming back vividly to him.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you, his face a mixture of emotions he couldn’t bother to hide at the moment.

“Still like the simple stuff huh?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“I like that photo.” You respond simply with a shrug, moving to the kitchen to grab two mugs.

setting the kettle on the stove and filling it with water, you dig in a nearby pantry, pulling out two bags of camomile. Logan was touched you’d remebered it helped him sleep better at night.

“I’m renovating the guest room Lo’ so uh…” you paused nervously, leaning against the kitchen counter for better balance. “You could sleep on the couch or um… my bed if that’s okay with you… although if you remember the couch is uncomfortable at shit.”

Logan took in the slight anxious tremble of your voice and attempted a smile to ease your worries. “Are you kidding? I’ll never forget that couch and I have the back problems to prove it.”

You watched you silently for the moment before continuing quietly.

“I’ll take the bed.”

“Good choice.” You complimented with an awkward smile, grabbing the steaming kettle and filling both mugs. “Do you still like milk with yours?” You asked absentmindedly, digging around in the fridge of your kitchenette.

Logan nodded. “Yeah same way Bub.”

He leaned his back against the counter, his gaze still fixed on you. This domestic scene felt surreal- you preparing tea for him, the soft electric hum of the fridge, and the intimate simplicity of it all.

Memories of exact copies of this night came flooding back to him. Countless nights of late-night conversations and cups of tea.

Once finished, you pushed the perfectly steeped cup of tea towards Logan, his fingers brushing against yours before taking a sip and glancing at him from across the kitchen.

“I’m worried about you Lo’.” You admitted quietly, staring at him from over the rim of you cup.

Logan took a large swig of his drink, using it as an excuse to avoid looking at you for a moment. When he did, he met your eyes, the worry in your gaze mirroring his own.

“I know you are.” He grumbled, voice stoic. “But I can handle myself Bub.”

“If you can why call me at two am!?” You bite back, glancing at Logan as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

Logan sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. He knew you had a point. He knew he wouldn’t have called if everything was fine.

He took another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing his gruff throat.

“It’s just… been a tough couple of weeks.” Logan admitted, voice suddenly quiet as his fingers traced the handle of his mug. “Just needed to hear your voice is all I guess…”

You glance at the tiled floor, thinking for a moment before speaking up.

“Why did you leave me Logan…” you asked quietly, forcing Logan to address the one question he didn’t want to consider.

The question hit Logan like a ton of bricks, the familiar shame and guild washing over him like a cold wave.

He looked away, jaw clenching as he struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to bother you with all the issues that entailed loving a mutant. He didn’t- couldn’t hurt you.”

“It’s complicated.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze. “You’re better off without me, Bub.”

You frown at Logan, obviously taking offence to his words.

“Oh really?” You asked incredulously. “Am I better off tossing and turning every night worried that the next time I’d see you would be in a casket? Am I better off crying every night left wondering what I did wrong for you to leave me- to leave us?”

Tears began to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, too preoccupied to brush them away.

Logan flinched slightly as your words struck deep. He could see the pain carved into your face and the tracks of tears caused by him.

He placed his practically finished mug of tea behind him, the soft thud of the porcelain echoing through the small kitchen. He took a moved, closing the distance between you two as he looked down at you with a mixture of sadness and regret.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispered, taking a deep breath and fighting the lump in his throat. “It’s me bub, im the problem.”

You refused to look at Logan, your eyes glued to the floor.

“I didn’t want you to leave…” you admitted quietly. “…I miss you.”

Logan let out a deep sigh, his heart feeling heavier than his weary shoulders and each syllable that escaped your mouth feeling like a swift dagger to his conscience.

His voice barely above a whisper, Logan answered. “I know you didn’t want me to leave. And I miss you too. More than you know.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently, very gently touching your chin, turning you face towards him.

Logan’s heart ached as he saw the tears on your face, his calloused thumb trying gently to wipe them away, a slight tremble in his hand.

“Why are you crying over a knucklehead like me Bub?” He soothed, thumb tracing your jaw. “I’m not worth these tears.”

“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you Logan.” You admitted solemnly, leaning into Logan’s touch. “And… and you left me in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye… I thought you’d gotten hurt… o-or worse…”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you nuzzle into his calloused palm. The raw emotion in your voice slicing through all previous walls he’d constructed around his heart.

He closed his eyes for a moment of solace, his rough hand cradling your face.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said in a broken whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The words came out like a prayer, filled with longing, guilt, and a drive for forgiveness from the only person Logan ever thought really mattered.

A moment of silence passed, Logan’s apology sinking deep into the walls of the kitchen until you spoke up.

“Can you stay till next morning Lo’?” You asked, voice scratchy from crying and shouting. “I’ll make bacon the way you like it… all crunchy n’ shit…”

A small smile tugged at Logan’s lips despite the heaviness in his chest. The mental image of you cooking breakfast for him in the early hours of morning was more comforting than he’d care to admit.

“You remember the way I like it huh?” He askedC his heavy voice tinged with the slight hint of humor.

“Never forgot.” You replied, giving Logan a sad smile as you stepped away from his close proximity.

“Anyways… it… it’s been a long night we should get some rest…” you suggested, gesturing with you head to the bedroom down the hall, a place Logan was all too familiar with.

A wave of nostalgia hit Logan like a truck as he entered your bedroom. Memories of many sleepless nights filled with you in his arms were seared into his mind.

Hi eyes flicked around, taking in all the subtle changes since he’d last been here- the new pillows, the different floral bedsheets, but beneath it all it was still the same, it was still you, it was still home.

You sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off your slippers and removing your socks, tossing the clothes somewhere on to the other side of the room like you and Logan used to do every night before having fun.

Logan shrugged off his shirt, revealing his scarred tanned chest as he climbs underneath the sheets and duvet, settling in next to you, your back facing to him.

This routine was all too familiar to him.

Logan wanted to pull you closer, to hold you against him but he hesitated, not sure what your boundaries were at the moment. Logan yearned for your touch, even though he’d been the one to walk away.

“Can… can you hold me Logan…” you asked quietly, your voice resounding in the silent bedroom.

A wave of relief washed over Logan as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest, his nose burying into your hair inhaling the familiar scent of you.

“Yeah.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I can hold you.”

Logan could feel the tension leaving your shoulders as you melted into his touch causing him to hold you closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your tummy.

He’d forgotten how much he missed this, the simple pleasure of having your back to his chest, your warmth in his embrace.

Logan nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing deeply. “God I missed this.” He murmured, voice filled with regret and relief.

The room was dead silent, all except for the quiet ticking of a nearby wall clock.

“Can’t you stay Logan?” You asked into the silence of the room, your voice barely above a whisper. “We can continue where we left off… I still have all your clothes in my closet.”

Logan’s heart clenched in his chest, his head and heart at war within himself. The temptation was strong, painfully so. But the guilt, the knowledge of what could befall you made him hesitate.

“It’s not that simple bub.” His voice rough as he muttered quietly into your ear. Logan’s hand, however, betrayed him as I gently caressed your hip, calloused thumb tracing patterns into your skin.

“Logan I’ll be good.” You pleaded quietly, leaning into his touch. “I won’t do anything to make you leave me again I promise.”

Your raw emotion sliced through any remaining restraint Logan had. He could feel the guilt and love for you wrestling for dominance in his chest.

“You were never the problem you understand that don’t you?” He said, voice low and deep. “It’s me- not you- always me.”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin as he held you impossibly closer.

“You’re making it hard to resist Bub.”

Logan could feel all remaining defences crumbling as you turned in his grasp to face him, one of your hands cradling his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I love you Logan.” You whispered.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, voice breaking. “Never did.”

“Say it back.” You pleaded, leaning your head on to his chest as sleep threatened to take you. “I need to hear it.”

Logan’s chest tightened at your request, knowing he could never deny you, could never hold back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you. Still. Always.” He said, burying his face in your hair once more.

You hummed in contentment at his answer, happy to finally hear what you’d be needing for months. Comforted by the closeness of Logan, your eyes fluttered close and before he knew it your breathing had evened out to a slow steady rhythm and you were fast asleep, nestled in Logan’s arms.

Logan stayed awake for a while longer, content to listen to your slow breathing and quiet heartbeat. He held you close, glad to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve your love after all he’d put you through. Your words ‘I love you’ echoing in his mind like a burden but also simultaneously a comfort.

But Logan couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back again, to have you in his arms again, and the sense of peace that washed over him you laid together.

He knew the sun would rise soon enough, and he knew that this time, he’d stay.

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wannaeatramyeon · 8 months

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Lookism: "No thank you! I have a partner!"

Silly. G/N. Y'all probably seen the meme. Your partner comes home drunk and doesn't recognise you. Masterlists

Gun Park, Ryuhei Kuroda, Goo Kim, DG, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo

Loud scratching and thumps at your front door wakes you. You wonder whether to arm yourself with a frying pan and then you hear your boyfriend muttering slurred profanities.

A loud bang reverberates through your home as he stumbles, drunk, through the door.

With a sigh, you crawl out of bed to check the state they're in.

Gun gazes at you, bleary-eyed and half focused. Slightly swaying on his feet, a very unusual sight of someone usually in full control of their body.

Then something clicks in his brain, eyes hardening just before he looks away. He tells you, tone disinterested, that he's a taken man.

"I don't know how I ended up here, but don't get the wrong idea."

He turns around, exits his own living room, exits his own home, and sleeps outside the apartment in the hallway instead.

"Yeah you're pretty cute," Ryuhei mumbles, words slurring together, "But my partner is cuter."

He pulls his phone out, drops it twice, unlocks it on the third attempt and shows you a picture - one that you have seen, actually one that you took of him smooching you on the cheek.

"Aren't they cute?" He beams, utterly besotted. "Let me just crash here," he says as he collapses on the sofa. "If you touch me I'll scream."

"Get your hands off me!" Goo screeches, slapping you away as you try to undress him and get him ready for bed. "My my, you're forward aren't you?"

Goo leans forward and gives you a smile halfway between utterly charming and complete sleazeball.

Then, all bravado evaporates and he sighs.

"Oh sweetheart you would be just my type, but," he pushes you off the bed, "I'm taken and very happy about it."

He lies down, burritoing himself and turning his back to you. "You can make your own way out."

Vin fiddles with his sunglasses, peering approvingly at you.

Even in his drunken haze he can tell that damn, you're fine. Except. He is also lucid enough to realise he is not looking respectfully anymore and he thinks of you, his ride or die, and his face completely changes.

He frowns and asks you what the hell you are looking at. That you have no chance. He has a partner at home that is much hotter, much better, thank you very much and yeah he's an asshole but he's not going to cheat so back the fuck off.

You roll your eyes, hackles would have been much higher if he wasn't actually being sweet in his own way.

DG takes a moment to process the situation. And when he does, he gets it completely wrong.

He plasters on his k-pop smile. The one reserved for winning over fans, interviewers and for his insincere apology videos.

"Did you want an autograph?" He pulls out a photocard from his inner pocket and a pen (and wow, you did not realise he carried a stack of his photos. You are not going to let him live this down) and scribbles his signature that comes with some love hearts and sparkles and passes it over to you.

"Here you go," he holds it out to you in both hands, not before mumbling under his breath, "You're cute but shit if you turn into another stalker..."

Jake is already asleep on the sofa by the time you pad out, which must be some super power in itself.

"Wake up," You give his shoulder a shake. He frowns, then cracks one eye open. "Come to bed."

He grunts something indecipherable and attempts to roll his oversized frame on your undersized sofa.

"Jake, cmon."

You start to drag him to your bedroom, your touch finally waking something inside and he bolts upright, removing your hands firmly off him.

"I have a partner." He tells you with no room for any misinterpretation. "But," he scratches absentmindedly at his stomach, "Do you have any food?"

Samuel does as he's told. Obediently removing his trousers, and unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off-

(Truly, you had no ulterior motive, you just wanted to remove the stink of alcohol.)

When, maybe for the first time in his life, he is afflicted with modesty and a startling clarity.

He yanks his shirt back on and pulls his trousers on with surprisingly sober efficiency.

"Absolutely not," he glowers at you, "This is not happening. I'm taken."

#lookism x reader #lookism #gun park x reader #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #goo kim x reader #vin jin x reader #dg x reader #james lee x reader #jake kim x reader #samuel seo x reader #gun park #ryuhei kuroda #goo kim #vin jin #diego kang #jake kim #samuel seo #wannaeatramyeon

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a-leg-without-fear · 1 month

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Sweet Dreams, TN🩸🔥

shower smut with logan won the poll because of course it did. i love y'all, you horny bastards (affectionate)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader🩸

Rating: 18+

Worcount: 4.7k words of pure sin

Warnings: cursing, shower sex, foreplay, choking, groping, fingering, grinding, biting, bloodplay, marking, Logan's dirty mouth, light dom/sub, overstimulation, unprotected p in v sex (use protection pls), uneven refractory period

Song: Sweet Dreams, TN by The Last Shadow Puppets

Hot water rained down on you from the shower head. Steam poured off your warm body, lavender soap washed away by the thin streams of water, hair plastered to your scalp and neck. A small hum came from between your closed lips. Something indistinct, a little off key, to keep your mind occupied while you rinsed off your arms.

It had been a good day in the mansion. Class went well, the students following your instruction on pinch pots to the T, hardly any children lashing out during your instruction. One of the kids, Shauna, had stayed behind after class to give you a drawing. A scribbled sketch of you, her, and a handful of other classmates drawn in colorful crayon. That had earned her a tight hug and a heartfelt thank you. The drawing was now pinned to the corkboard above your desk amongst dozens of other students’ drawings.

You loved your kids. You really, truly did. Having the good fortune of being able to teach them art was one of the best parts of your long life. Spreading the joy of artistic expression to the young folks around you, the calming aspect of coloring a sketch or the soothing feel of clay between your fingers, was what got you out of bed in the morning.

Just as you were reaching for your hair conditioner, the leaf-patterned shower curtain rustled and drew back from the wall behind you. You let out a hum of acknowledgement.

“Evening, Lo,” you said over your bare shoulder, a warm smirk turning up the corners of your lips. Your gaze was graced by the sight of a naked Logan behind you.

Warm, brown hair styled in two fluffy points, toned chest covered in dark curls, pronounced abs leading into more crisp, dark hair. You snapped your eyes back to his face to keep from staring. A cocky grin tugged on his lips.

“Hey there, doll,” he replied. Thick arms wrapped around your waist, gently tugging you backwards. Your back, covered in water droplets, collided with Logan’s chest. A breathy laugh came from your widening smile.

“Impatient, are we?” you asked teasingly. Your question was met with Logan trailing his lips up and down your exposed neck. An occasional nip with his canines here and there, scruffy beard scratching on your sensitive skin.

“You were taking too long,” Logan uttered as he nipped under your ear. Large, calloused hands began smoothing over your soaked skin. You shuddered against Logan, letting your head fall back against his broad shoulder.

“I’ve only been in the shower for ten minutes, Lo,” you breathed. You felt a puff of air brush against your neck as he huffed.

“Still too long,” he said, snapping his teeth next to your earlobe. Logan’s hips rolled against your thighs. You could feel his half-hard cock grind between your legs. A choked moan leaked through your lips.

“Logan,” you whimpered under your breath. One of his warm hands traveled back up your body and wrapped loosely around your throat. You whined, high-pitched and needy, as your eyes fell closed.

His other hand continued its path south, smoothing water into your twitching skin, fingers pinching and teasing as they went. Sharp teeth scratched at the skin under your jaw.

“Tell me to stop and I will, doll. Don’t wanna interrupt your shower routine,” he whispered kindly into your skin.

Your mind was utterly reeling. Consciousness split between a hand on your throat, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip, Logan’s cock against the back of your legs, hot water pouring on your front. It was nearly impossible to form a coherent sentence with how wrecked you already felt. You cleared your throat, swallowing a knot the size of a baseball.

“All I have left is hair conditioner,” you said. Logan’s chest rumbled with a thoughtful hum. His hands retreated in their path to rest gently on your waist.

“Then don’t let me keep you,” he purred, thumbs massaging at your lowest ribs. His lazy grinding against your ass had stopped. You whined, nuzzling your nose into Logan’s stubble-covered throat.

“Please, Lo,” you uttered. You licked at the droplets of water gathering under his jaw, trying to tempt him back into touching you. Logan hummed again. His hazel eyes peered down at you.

“Once you’re done, doll. Then I’ll reward ya,” he said reassuringly. He used his shoulder to nudge you forward, practically prying your naked bodies apart.

You huffed, frustrated and horny, as you leaned down to pick up your conditioner bottle. The white container sat mockingly in your wrinkling hand. Why should it control whether you get dicked down by the gorgeous man behind you? What right did this bottle of hair conditioner have to keep you from a good fucking?

“Staring at the conditioner ain’t gonna put it in your hair, doll,” Logan teased from behind you. You grumbled at his words, popping open the lid and squeezing the pale conditioner into your palm. You set the accursed bottle back on its shelf.

“It’s an asshole,” you said. That earned you a surprised laugh that shook Logan’s chest. The deep sound bounced off the tile walls and settled deep in your bones. A small grin pulled at your deep frown.

“And what did the bottle do to earn that title?” Logan chuckled. His thumbs continued to trace the lines of your ribs. You sighed while massaging the conditioner between your palms.

“It’s a fucking cockblock, Lo. How dare it keep your hands off me?” you griped, raising your arms to rub the conditioner into the ends of your hair. The flowery, clean scent filled the steam rising from both your and Logan’s bodies.

Logan’s fingers squeezed the soft flesh at your sides, earning a shocked yelp and an elbow to his ribs. He smirked at your response, “My hands are still on you.”

“You know what I mean,” you groused.

Your fingers wove through your hair as you lathered the strands in cream-colored conditioner. You could just barely feel Logan’s chest brushing against your back. His hands smoothed up and down your sides, a hum of adoration slipping from his lips now and then.

When it came time to rinse your hair out, Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, keeping you from sticking your head under the water.

“Wait,” he said, hands lifting to rest on your shoulders. You cocked an eyebrow at him from over your shoulder. His brow furrowed, clearing his throat, “I… Can I wash your hair for you?”

The pure, unadulterated affection that flowed from that question punched you in the gut like an MMA fighter. You were utterly stunned. Mouth hanging open, eyes wide, breath halted in your lungs. Logan shifted uncomfortably under your perplexed stare.

“Forget it, it’s not-”

“Yes!” you said loudly, cutting him off. He looked taken aback at your exclamation. You turned in his hold so you could face him, palms resting on his chest, “You can wash my hair, Lo. It’s just… The last thing I expected you to ask.”

“Oh,” he sighed, relieved. A small, fond grin grew across his previously grumpy expression. He used the grip on your shoulders to walk you backwards.

You matched his movement, eyes tracing the crow’s feet around his eyes, until you felt the hot water raining from the shower head pelting your back. Your eyes squinted as water dripped from your scalp and into your face. Logan breathed a chuckle at you, then his hands traveled up your neck and buried his fingers in your hair.

An involuntary, quiet moan slinked up your throat as rough calluses scraped along your scalp. Your eyes fluttered closed. Logan’s fingers massaged between strands of soaked hair, hitting all the spots that made your eyes roll back beneath your eyelids.

“Feel good?” Logan muttered, breath fanning across your damp cheeks. His pinkies dug into a spot at the base of your skull that made your toes curl. You gnawed on your bottom lip to prevent any more embarrassing noises.

You felt the faintest brush of Logan’s lips on yours. A ghost of a feeling, like the whisper of a summer breeze. Your fingers twitched against his chest.

“How do I know your hair’s rinsed?” he asked. The buzz of the words on his lips vibrated your own. A needy whine clawed at the base of your throat.

“Not- Not slick anymore,” was all you could murmur. Your back arched, chest pressing against his, when he started massaging at the tense muscles in your neck. Heavy, warm strokes that eased any tension remaining along your shoulders. Logan chuckled above you.

“Your hair, or your cunt?” he whispered against your chewed lips. Your thighs clenched together around nothing. Burning arousal pooled in your stomach, your spine shivering beneath your flushed skin.

“Definitely hair,” you replied, a breathless laugh leaving your clenched jaw. You felt the smirk dance on Logan’s lips against your own. His fingers pulled through your hair, ringing the last remnants of conditioner out of the soaked strands. A light groan rattled your throat as he pulled on your roots.

Satisfied with his work, Logan slipped his fingers out of your hair and placed his palms on your waist again. It took a lot of effort to open your eyes.

Some of the water showering down on you had apparently reached Logan, as his dark hair laid flat against his scalp, slicked back away from his face. Thick droplets of water dripped from his soaked beard. Fond, wrinkled eyes traced along your face.

“How’d I do?” he asked. You lifted a hand from his chest, the limb feeling a hundred pounds heavier, and felt along the ends of your hair. Perfectly rinsed. Not a spot of conditioner left. You grinned up at him.

“A plus. Top marks,” you answered. His chest rumbled with a fond hum as he pulled you tighter against his chest. Knuckles traced along your spine, the rough joints digging into your back every other vertebrae.

“And what do I get for such a high grade?” he questioned, hands shifting from stroking your back to gripping the plush skin of your ass. A startled gasp burst from your closed lips. Your nails dug into the firm muscle that lined his chest.

“I thought you were rewarding me?” you replied shakily. Firm, rough squeezes of Logan’s long fingers on your ass kicked the air from your lungs. You could feel your knees start to buckle.

Logan ducked his head to nip under your chin. Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses trailed along your quickly heating skin. Sharp drags of his teeth elicited quick, quiet moans from your lungs. His hot tongue trailed up the underside of your jaw and stopped just below your earlobe.

“I suppose I can make an exception this time,” he drawled in your ear, breath stirring the falling drops of water on your skin. Your hips bucked forward involuntarily. The trembling skin of your stomach rubbed against Logan’s fully hard cock. He groaned, pressing his cheek to yours, grinding his leaking tip into your abdomen.

“Logan,” you whined, nails scratching deep crescents into his skin. The grip on your ass tightened, pulling you impossibly closer to him, a deep growl rolling through his chest. Hot pants fell from his mouth as he continued to grind into you.

The tile walls blurred as Logan spun you in his arms. Your back pinned against his chest, his cock wedged between your legs, his right arm wrapped around your throat, left hand gripping your hip. A startled moan punched its way out of your mouth.

“How many times do you think I can make you come, hotstuff? Three, four times?” he purred into your ear. The arm around your neck squeezed, choking you lightly, making your head spin.

Gasping whimpers cascaded past your swollen lips. The heat gathering between your thighs spread through your whole body like a tidal wave. A sinful, aching need coursing through your veins.

Logan’s fingers trailed down your stomach as he loosened his hold on your throat. The room around you swam amongst a sea of clouded desire. Your breath came back to you in brief spurts, your chest heaving and legs trembling.

“Hmm. Guess we’ll have to find out,” Logan said, then nipped at your earlobe while his middle finger traced a lazy circle around your clit. Your head flew back against his shoulder. Electric shocks of bliss radiated from where he rubbed at your bundle of nerves.

“God, fuck! Logan!” you exclaimed through clenched teeth. He placed a firm kiss beneath the hinge of your jaw. Your mind was short circuiting. It felt like your entire existence was focused on Logan’s fingers rubbing and pinching and lightly scratching at your clit. Your knees threatened to give out. You clawed at the arm wrapped around your neck.

“That’s a good girl. Shh, you’re being so good,” he breathed into your skin. Rough grunts filled your ear as he continued to grind against your ass.

He shifted his hand, his palm digging into your clit as his fingers stroked up and down your folds. You squirmed in his tight hold. Nails scratching at the skin of his forearm, pinpricks of blood left in your scrabbling wake. Logan pressed his lips to your temple.

“I’ve got you, doll,” he whispered, breath stirring the hair along your forehead.

The pressure from the heel of Logan’s palm lessened as his middle finger pushed inside you. Rough skin and bony knuckles hit every single nerve ending. The stretch of his finger was absolutely exquisite. Not nearly enough to dull the burning need inside you, but filling you just enough to leave you panting and wanting more.

He brushed the pad of his fingertip against that spongy spot inside you. White stars dotted along the edges of your blurred vision. Euphoria poured into your veins like a raging waterfall. The loud moan that threatened to escape your lips was cut off as Logan squeezed his arm, choking you. Your eyes rolled back in your head again.

The sensation of his finger sliding in and out of you was only intensified by the vice he had on your throat. Soft-edged pleasure filled your mind with nothing but Logan. His fingers on and inside you, his warm breath on your temple, his cock grinding against you.

He added his pointer finger on the next push inside you. You stretched around the digits, arousal coating them in slick. Logan grunted in your ear.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned. The grip on your throat lessened once again, humid air filling your strained lungs. His fingers glided inside you and brushed that spot, making you keen and whimper, then slid back out.

A quick, brutal pace was set as he fingered you. Heel of Logan’s palm grinding against your clit, fingers pistoning in your cunt, arm squeezing and choking your neck. All you could do was cling to his forearm for dear life. That knot in your core twisted and churned with every shove of his fingers inside you. Unbridled ecstasy coated your bloodstream, shoving you further and further under the brutal waves drowning you with pleasure.

An enormous wave threatened to crash over you. The knot tightened, your breath hitched, your knees gave out. Logan cradled you against his chest as he continued to finger-fuck you. Delicate praise whispered through gritted teeth filtered through your swirling senses. You distantly thought of how lucky it was that Logan could support your entire weight, seeing as your legs no longer functioned.

The brief, wandering thought was quickly shoved from your mind when Logan added his ring finger inside you. Three thick, long digits fucking into you at a brutal pace. Every shove inside you brushing against the spot that held you beneath those waves. Warm, honeyed pleasure filled your lungs. That tidal wave crested over your helpless body. Your cunt clenched around Logan’s fingers. You felt a feral grin spread over the lips pressed to your temple.

“That’s it. Come for me, sugar,” Logan grunted into your ear. With one final squeeze around your throat, the wave came crashing down on top of you.

World-encompassing rapture flooded your senses. Violent swells of utter euphoria crashed into you, over and over again. Your mind exploded into fractured glass, your lungs stuttered behind your ribs, your eyes screwed shut. Loud, choked moans threatened to break through the barrier Logan built with his arm locked around your throat.

You barely felt alive. The destruction and devastation that lay in the wake of your climax left you shivering in Logan’s arms. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, your chest heaved when the vice around your neck loosened, your fingers gripping limply at Logan’s arm.

But he didn’t let up. He kept pounding into you at the same brutal pace, palm slapping wetly against your clit. You squirmed in his hold. Desperate pleas fell from your lips. You clawed and scraped at his forearm.

“Lo- I can’t- I- Logan, please,” you begged. Logan nipped at your hairline, shifting the arm around your throat down to grip around your waist, holding you flush against him.

“You can, doll. You can give me one more,” he said, biting at the column of your neck. The grinding of his cock on your ass ceased as he focused entirely on dragging you into another orgasm. You writhed against his chest, a sob rattling inside your chest.

The growing wave above you climbed higher and higher. Every pound inside you sent ripples of sharp heat coursing through your body. It was nearly nauseating, how quick the knot built up in your core. Almost painful how the surges of pleasure overtook your dazed mind.

Your orgasm rocked through you like a kick to the chest. Choked sobs wracked your trembling body, splashes of rapture coating your lungs and throat, leaving you a shaking and blubbering mess. Incoherent strings of curses and Logan’s name fell from your gaped mouth.

It seemed Logan had taken pity on you, as he withdrew his hand from between your thighs. A strained, relieved sigh broke through the incomprehensible noises and words streaming from your lips. He placed chaste kisses along the side of your face.

“Shhh, good girl. That’s my good girl,” Logan murmured against your temple. He rubbed soothing circles into your oversensitive skin. Heavy pants heaved out of you. The floor swayed beneath you, jets of hot water beating at you like hail on a window.

You gulped the steam-filled air into your lungs. Electric aftershocks made you shudder at each brush of Logan’s fingers on your body or his lips on your neck. The room around you returned to your vision in bits and pieces. White tiles lined in gray grout, yellow shower curtain decorated in painted leaves, silver handles and shower head, white hair conditioner bottle sitting on a clear plastic shelf.

“H-Holy shit, Lo,” you gasped. You felt a proud smile cross the lips pressed against your jaw. The arm tucked along your waist smoothed up and down your stomach. Gentle glides of his palms and fond kisses along your neck cleared the cloud that filled your mind.

“Back with us?” he asked, setting you down on your unsteady feet. He held you upright as you found your footing on the slick shower floor.

“Yeah. I think so,” you said as you turned to face Logan. As soon as your chest was pressed to his, a warm hand tucked under your chin and brought your lips to his. Gentle, sweet, relaxed. His tongue passed through your lips and licked into your pliant mouth. A light sigh escaped your throat and slipped between you.

“We can pause for a bit,” he whispered as he pulled back. A touch of concern furrowed between his dark brows. His thumb ran along your chin as he searched your eyes for hesitancy.

“No need,” you said, throwing him a lopsided smile as you carded your fingers through his drenched hair. You looped your arms around his shoulders, “I’m good to go. Wreck me all you want.”

The same feral grin you felt against your temple stretched across Logan’s lips. Sharp canines bared, eyes wide and looking at you like you were dinner. Excitement reawakened the arousal that had subsided in your abdomen.

Logan’s large hands scooped under your thighs and slammed your back against the slippery tile wall, your legs wrapping around his hips, as his mouth crashed into yours. His cock grinded into your oversensitive folds, flushed tip brushing at your clit. High, airy moans filtered from your throat and into the space your mouths shared. Your fingers buried themselves in his drenched hair.

A low growl left Logan’s chest when you tugged at his roots. His hips snapped forward, fingers digging into thick flesh, crisp hair at the base of his cock scraping the inside of your thighs.

“Shit, Lo, please just fuck me already,” you whined into his open mouth. Your hips moved in rhythm with Logan’s, desperation beginning to claw at your throat. Scalding waves of needneedneed coated your body in thick honey.

Water cascaded down your bodies as Logan angled his hips to line up with your entrance. Anticipation burned away at your nerve endings.

The slow push inside, stretching and straining your soaked cunt to the limit, thick cock brushing against every bump and ridge. Your back bowed off the tile wall, pain and pleasure making an intoxicating concoction between your thighs. Blunt nails scraped at Logan’s shoulders.

When, at last, he was fully sheathed inside you, he paused to allow you to adjust. His hazel eyes remained locked with yours, fingers squeezing at the skin along your thighs, gasping breath mingling with yours.

He released his hold on one of your legs and directed you to bear your own weight. Your other leg remained hiked up over his hip. His forearm rested on the tile by your head as he leaned over you. The change in position drove him impossibly deeper inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned.

“Ah- fuck, doll. Good?” Logan grunted next to your ear. You nodded, fingers burying themselves deeper in his hair.

He tightened his grip on your leg as he pulled out. The slick glide overpowered your mind, sparks igniting on the edges of your vision. Logan wasted no time before thrusting back inside you to the hilt. A sharp groan shot out of your lips. His mouth crashed into yours as he set a slow, grinding pace. Hips barely leaving the inside of your thighs before rutting his cock against that spot inside you.

“Sh-it!” you whined into Logan’s mouth. Every slow pull along your walls knocked the breath from your lungs. The skin above his cock, firm with taut muscle, rubbed at your aching clit. Shockwaves of pleasure centered on your cunt ricocheted through your body.

You wouldn’t last long. Not with the remnants of your two previous orgasms hanging over you like a dense fog. You felt submerged in an ocean of sin. Dancing sunlight filtering through roaring waves above your head. Deep blue surrounding you on all sides. Thick, molasses leaden desire filling your lungs and making you gasp.

Logan’s teeth scraped at the skin above the artery in your neck. Canines digging into the flesh and drawing small droplets of blood. The arm he had braced above your head tangled in your freshly washed hair. He tilted your head to drink from the wine your body willingly provided.

This orgasm didn’t wash over you, it yanked. Grabbing you by the ankles and pulling your feet out from under you, sending you careening into a void of white hot ecstasy that coated you like black ink.

“Fuck, yes, that’s a good girl,” Logan groaned against your throat as he withdrew from your cunt. Before you could blink you were spun in place, chest pressed against the tiled wall, knee hiked up by Logan’s hand.

Tremors from your climax still rattled your joints as he pushed back inside you. His chest pressing into your back, lips wrapping around the cut in your neck, hand not supporting your leg squeezing at your breast. Rough fingers rolled your nipple between callused pads.

You could barely breathe after Logan started pounding into you. Cock ramming into you so hard you knew you’d walk funny for a week. Your hands scratched helplessly at the white tile. His teeth scraped at the thin skin under your ear, grunts thick with pleasure bouncing off the wall in front of you. You reached a hand over your shoulder and threaded your fingers in his hair, holding his mouth to your throat.

“B-Bite me, Lo. Mark me,” you breathed. He needed no further encouragement. His sharp canines pierced your skin and dug into your veins. You cried out at the intrusion in your flesh. Fresh, hot blood leaked from the bites and into Logan’s waiting mouth. You felt his breath hitch against your neck.

“God, vampire. I- fuck!” he panted. The hand holding your leg squeezed bruises into your thigh, the beginnings of painted blues and purples covering your flushed skin. Logan’s hips stuttered against your thighs. You could feel his chest heaving. It seemed the relentless fucking was absolutely destroying you both.

The large hand playing with your breast slipped between your thighs. Lazy, distracted circles rubbed into your overstimulated clit. You lurched against Logan’s chest. Head falling back on his broad shoulder, fingers squeezing damp hair, hips bucking to match his steadily slowing thrusts.

A jagged groan stirred against your throat as Logan came undone, cock buried deep and spilling inside you. His heavy head fell to your shoulder. Heaving breaths gusted from his lips and blew the remaining water droplets off your heated skin.

You only had a moment to breathe before he rubbed at your clit with new fervor. Cock still within your cunt, release leaking out of you and down your legs, teeth nipping at the underside of your jaw.

“Gimme one more. C’mon, vampire. You can do it,” Logan said. He licked up the streams of blood spilling from the cuts in your neck. Your head spun, lungs feeling far too empty, cunt pulsing around his softening cock.

An explosion of stabbing, almost painful euphoria burst from your core and burned the rest of your body. Rubble crashed into your skin, fire burned at your senses, smoke filled your already heaving lungs. Your vision blacked out as your climax wiped your mind clean.

You felt like you were drifting on a raft in a lazy river. Cool water ushering your limp body down a calm stream. An occasional wave rocking the raft to and fro. Warm sun streaming through breaks in the trees and heating your skin.

A light caress on your cheek broke you from your revere. Your eyelids peeled open, blurry gaze focusing on an incredibly hazy Logan sitting in front of you. When did you end up on the floor?

“There you are,” he said, breathing a small sigh of relief. You were both sprawled out on the floor of the shower. Logan must have shut off the water at some point as the steady stream wasn’t bouncing off the white tiles. Your tired gaze flitted over Logan’s seated body.

He was still naked. That much was delightfully obvious. Remnants of water from the shower head dripped from his soaked hair and down his face. Hazel eyes inspected your exhausted body from head to toe.

“Hey,” you mumbled, a weak smile gracing your lips. You felt utterly drained. It took everything in you to keep your eyes open and your head up.

“Hey. You alright?” Logan replied while moving to kneel in front of you. Warm fingers brushed against the sides of your face. You gave him a tired nod. “Yeah, I’m good,” you said. Logan pressed a brief kiss into your hairline. You hummed in response, “Don’t know what I did to warrant all that, though.”

Logan breathed out a chuckle, “Nothing special. Just couldn’t deal with you getting all hot and wet without me.”

You weakly slapped him in the stomach. The attack was met with an amused sigh and another kiss to your forehead. A whisper of “asshole” left your reluctantly smiling lips.

i have been writing this for a solid eight hours now. enjoy

#logan howlett #wolverine #hugh jackman #xmen #logan howlett fanfic #wolverine fanfic #xmen fanfic #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #fem!reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #shower smut #i hope y'all are HAPPY with your decision #this was very fun to write

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bleekay · 1 year

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i started this waaaaay back when i first binged miraculous ladybug. couldn't get over the dynamic of superhero duo who don't know each other's secret identities but do also know each other in their normal lives, and they're in love but they aren't but they are they just don't know it.

you know, i originally was spending so much time trying to think of sokka's alter ego, and i put grey wolf in as a filler but then i realized how Sokka it was. like this other dude in a costume introduces himself like "hey, I'm the Blue Spirit" and sokka who hasn't had time to process yet that he's a superhero and is indeed the worst at naming things, goes, "oh, Blue Spirit? Hi. I'm..... Grey.... Wolf." and then zuko would be like "You just used my name as a template! You just changed the color and the creature!!!" and sokka's like "Whaaaaat! Nooooo. No. I actually had this idea before you even said anything, which means actually you are the one copying me!" and zuko demands he change his name, think of something better, but the news is there so it's already circulating and people are saying what a nice pair they make

[id: digital fanart of Sokka and Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender, split into two sections. The top section is a 4-panel comic, from an interview-style perspective asking questions individually of Sokka and Zuko, both wearing modern clothes. Panel 1 asks Sokka, “What do you think about Zuko?” He shrugs and looks away thoughtfully, answering, “Zuko? Hm. I don’t know him too well. I guess he’s pretty cool.” Panel 2 asks Zuko, “What do you think about Sokka?” He scratches at the back of his neck and looks away, blushing with a sheepish grin, and answers, ”Ah… He’s… he’s nice.” A little heart indicates his true feelings. Panel 3 asks Sokka, “What about the Blue Spirit?” Sokka clasps his face between his hands, eyes shiny and half-lidded, cheeks red, a squiggly smile on his face and hearts all around, and answers, “… LOML.” Panel 4 asks Zuko, “What about Grey Wolf?” Zuko’s face is stern, his hand balled in a fist, and he answers, “Annoying.” There’s two small captions on the bottom that read (he’s kidding) (… maybe). The bottom section is a depiction of Sokka and Zuko together as their alter egos, Grey Wolf and the Blue Spirit respectively. Grey Wolf has a wolf mask that covers the top half of his face, a skintight blue, grey, and white suit, with leather straps to hold weapons and white fur on his shoulders and wrists, as well as a fluffy tail. The Blue Spirit is in the canon mask, plus a skintight blue and black suit, with a sword strapped to his back. Grey Wolf has one arm around Blue Spirit’s back grabbing his shoulder, and his other hand is gently poking at the Blue Spirit’s cheek. Grey Wolf is grinning and has a little heart indicating he’s enjoying this. The Blue Spirit is standing with his arms crossed and a scribble indicating he’s annoyed. The background is a vague cityscape at sunset. end id]

#zukka #blee arts #sorry for the long post #i cant design a costume to save my life rip #but its more about the vibes anyway #theyre superheroes you get it

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zooone · 1 month

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" OH, SATORU ?! "

in which ?! - gojo doesnt show up to an extremely important meeting, and you find him passed out on his desk. poor guy.

words ?! - 2.2k

warnings and content ?! - swearing, teacher!reader, gojo is pathetic, reader hates gojo in the beginning but she takes care of him after 🙂‍↕️

an ?! - someone said gojo wants to be a sugar baby cuz he just wants to be taken care of for once and i went insane. also requests r open so plz send some!!

masterlist ?!

satoru gojo,

satoru fucking gojo,

of course he wouldn't show up to the meeting that she was pestering him about for days. of course he wouldn't show up to the meeting that she stressed was probably the most important hour or two of his life. of course he would leave the seat next to her empty and completely embarrass her.

she made it extremely clear to him, even going so far as to make sure he didn't have any missions in that time slot. but even with the the reminders and the sticky notes she left on his desk, he still somehow managed to be a no-show.

"satoru, don't forget about the meeting in two days!"

"i'll be there, don't worry" a fucking lie now, "you gotta stop worrying so much."

her immediate thought was that he assumed the meeting was below him. that the almighty satoru gojo was just far too important for mandatory meetings. she was seething in her chair thinking of all the excuses satoru gojo could possibly make, and how she could argue about each and every one of them. throughout the meeting, she scribbled a few into her notebook, fingertips turning to a near white as she gripped her pen with such hatred.

and as she lurched herself through the door, bag nearly falling off her shoulders, she would stomp down the hallway. her fists clenched and her shoulders to her earlobes.

as she spotted his classroom, she noticed that his classroom's lights were still on. and a million other thoughts fueled her angered mind, making her eyebrows clench. he skipped on a crucial meeting just to hang out in his classroom?

clicks and clacks of her heels echoed throughout, and she hoped satoru could hear it as a warning.

satoru gojo, however, could not hear it,

as he was face down against his desk, drool dripping onto the wood. his blindfold was halfway off, making for a nice barrier between the hard desk and his forehead. a pen laid between his fingers, along with the papers under him.

"satoru! you're-" she yelled, before stumbling back a bit and covering her mouth. she gazed her eyes upon his sleeping figure (half surprised that he was a being who was able to sleep), and she sighed softly. "satoru?"

more clicks of her heels as she walked in front of his desk, examining the full scene. he was in the middle of lesson planning, his messy chicken scratch all over a spare piece of paper. he was practically the only one who could understand his notes. but he preferred it that way. it felt more personal.

although his snowy hair covered his face, she could see the tips of his ears as they were a slight reddish tone. and as if on instinct, she sighed out a soft, "oh satoru."

her eyebrows furrowed even more now, however not due to anger but due to pity. she frowned, looking around the room. crumpled up balls of paper scattered around the classroom, of course accompanied by unsharpened pencils and erasers with poked holes in them.

on satoru's desk was a small schedule or to-do list, and it looked like he had to report a million different missions. he's been on so many lately with the recent influx of curses, and it didn't register in her head how tiring it must've been. after all, satoru came to work everyday with a smile on his face and a joke on his lips. he was always so happy. this was a completely different side of him. it made her frown.

she decided she would help, starting with picking up miscellaneous items from the ground. her heels had been removed at this point in order to keep the noise to a minimum.

but the plan was ruined,

the moment she got up from practically crawling on the floor, her head clashed with a nearby desk. it caused a loud thud to echo around the classroom, followed by her faint "ouch."

"hey!" and satoru sprung his head up, blindfold covering one eye and spit running down his chin. his voice was raw and raspy. it had a sort of weak undertone. but weak and gojo couldn't possibly be in the same sentence. "hey - put - putit down - i got- it-"

he was delirious.

"satoru - oh - go back to sleep -" she spoke, voice adjacent to that of a mother. it had the tenderness yet urgency that reminded satoru of his youth.

"y- y'can't tell me what to do!" his mouth barely opened as he laid back in his chair with his head thrown back. a soft groan escaped his dry lips.

"satoru-" she got up, one hand holding the painful sting on her head, the other reaching out for the man in front of her. "gosh, you're burning up, satoru -"

"no - no 'm not - im fine -" he tried to swat her hand away with a weak gesture, but ultimately it failed. his eyelids felt like they were too heavy, even for the strongest sorcerer of the modern day. "'m not sick-"

"you are," the corners of her mouth bent downwards. "i think you're overworking yourself."

his ivory lashes fluttered open slightly, squinting at the sudden light that met his cerulean eyes. "no- 'm just fine -"

"how much sleep have you been getting?" now she really sounded like a mom.

"ten hours!" satoru whined, trying to put his blindfold back on. "heheh. just kiddin'."

"satoru-"

"free hours. maybe. sorta." even his chuckle was raspy. a good chug of water would feel like heaven to him. "six eyes 're tellin' me you're worried. i - i told'ya ta stop worrying-"

even through a delirious fever and a couple hours of sleep, he was the one trying to put the spotlight on her. it made a sinking feeling in her stomach, one that made her bottom lip stick out.

"three hours is not good, satoru. especially with your technique and all -"

"i've got rct-" he whined, his arm resting over his blindfolded eyes. his pen was still in his hand, and a mere twitch would cause it to hit the floor. "im not in highschool anymore, 's okay - im- the strongest-"

she didn't want to argue back at an incoherent satoru, so she just continued to pick up items from the ground. but satoru, even with his blindfold and arm over his eyes, noticed her doing so.

"h-hey - hey, stop-" he pouted, a small cough following. "don't do that-"

"im just trying to help you, satoru." she gently spoke, like she was hushing a child. there was dust and gunk all over her fingertips. he definitely hadn't cleaned up in a while.

satoru nervously chuckled, using weak and shaky hands to unbutton his uniform. "heh, is it hot in here or 're you just happy to - see me?"

"that's- not how it goes," she scrunched her eyebrows at him, watching as he struggled to fiddle with his buttons. "let me help you."

she expected him go start whining and arguing again, but he didn't. without words, he let her slowly take care of the buttons of his uniform. the silence could be pierced with one of the dull pencils on the ground. his body heat radiated onto her fingertips, making her palms slightly sweaty.

by now, his blindfold was loose and falling off his face, and she could catch a glimpse of his feverish grin through her peripherals. thankfully, he had a thin tank top on underneath his uniform.

her touch stayed gentle as she removed the sleeves, her nails grazing upon his biceps. his laugh was small and whimpery. "hey, that tickles."

"s-sorry," she stammered, gulping down a bit of her saliva. his arms were hard as a rock, even when he was relaxed, and it didn't help that his skin was burning hot. literally, and figuratively. she noticed some faint, almost translucent hairs on his arm.

"'s okay. its nice." he rasped, his head tilting slightly. "you're nice."

"thank you. i just want to help you." and his uniform top was finally off. he let out a groan as the colder air stung his searing skin, and she noticed his abs clenching underneath his thin tank top. "better now?"

"mhm," he responded, his delirious smirk turned into a toothy grin. "y'might get sick if - if you stay 'round me."

"that's okay." she let out a shallow breath. her top priority was him at the moment, so she wasn't thinking about the busy days ahead of her. "don't you have a spare room here?"

"the floor above." he wiped his lidded eyes, an idle pout still on his lips. she couldn't believe that the same man who always had color on his face and a honeyed voice was here now like this. she felt like she should've seen the signs coming. "i shouldn't sleep i have - i have to lesson plan -"

"you're going to sleep, satoru." she said sternly, yet with a soft edge to her tone. "c'mon, get up."

"ugh, don't t-tell me what ta do-" he groaned, but he still stood up. his tall figure wobbled as he felt his blood rush. his joints fell weak, like he wasn't supposed to be even standing up. he collapsed against her, body weight and heat pressing up against her.

she was strong, there was no denying how she fought during missions, but him falling onto her caught her off guard. he sandwiched her between himself and the chalkboard, exerting a yelp from her throat.

"woah, i got you -" she grunted, pushing him upright. "i got you, satoru."

"'m tired." was all he could muster from his lips. "so tired."

"i know, i know, its okay." she whispered. he was more straightened out now, but he still leaned slightly towards her. she put his arm around her shoulder to help him walk adequately. "we're gonna take you to your room, okay?"

he hummed a response, eyes drooping again. his feet were practically dragging behind them, but she was able to guide him properly through the hallway.

"careful, we're turning," she would warn everytime there was an abrupt shift in the hallway. and he would just groan softly to show that he was still alive.

by now, she was sweating. the exertion of his warm skin rubbing up against hers made such a friction, not to mention the fact that she was basically carrying the taller man. but it felt good. it felt right.

once they reached his room, she fumbled around his pockets to get his keys. he groaned low in his chest, almost sounding like a purrr, as he felt her touch through his pants.

she recognized the layout to be similar to the student dorms, and she was able to locate his bedroom easily. of course, not without examining his place. the walls were surprisingly bare for his colorful personality. the big fake plant in the corner was the only noticeable thing about the whole living room. however, it was too dim to see.

she set him down onto his bed (and of course, his sheets were blue) and laid his soft blanket on top of him. he looked like he went back to sleep within two seconds, but as she was halfway through his doorway, he heard him and his blanket stir.

“stay,” he whispered over the decently loud ac. but she could still hear the desperation in his voice.

“oh,” she turned around, seeing his blue eyes barely open from underneath snowy lashes. “i was gonna go back to your classroom to clean up more-”

“stay, please.”

she let out a shallow sigh through downturned lips. she stared at the strongest sorcerer as he scooted over in his bed, allowing her room to lay. her heart stung a little bit at the sight, the dryness in her throat just adding to the sensations she felt.

“i have spare clothes you can borrow,” he frowned, lazily gesturing to his large closet. “they’re comfy.”

it was clear he was trying to use anything to convince her to stay, despite him being worried about her health. even if it was selfishly, he just wanted her near.

a small smile laid on his chapped lips when she went into his closet, picking out a t-shirt of his and going into the bathroom. through the white door, he could hear her softly humming to herself, and it felt like a lullaby to his reddened ears.

his gaze softened when he saw her, despite the piercing bathroom light. she just looked so beautiful. he knew that, of course, he’s known ever since they first met. but when she had her hair up in a bun and his shirt draped over her shoulders, she looked like a goddess. he would’ve said so even without his feverish state. she was just so perfect to him.

she walked over to the other side of his bed, flopping herself down. she didn’t realize how much her muscles ached until her body met the soft mattress. all of their surroundings smelled like him, a minty sort of scent flooding her nose. he was about to doze off again, back flattened against his sheets, but she scooted over and hugged him. the blanket plus his body heat was enough to make her start sweating again, but she still wiggled up against him. her fingers were idly tracing shapes on his chest while she continued to hum.

“thank you,” he whispered, voice crackling so much she nearly missed his words. he snaked his large hand to her back, pulling her impossibly close. it felt so intimate that small tears began to prod behind his eyelids.

“you’re welcome, satoru.” she responded, her tone still gentle. “goodnight.”

8.9.24

masterlist ?!

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amywritesthings · 4 months

Text

press four for more options. | part one.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4.6k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - alternate universe (modern), slow burn, eventual smut, sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. | masterlist

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area.”

God, even the automated voice sounds porn-y.

A breathy feminine voice straight out of a 1975 VHS tape croons into the dead air of your small apartment bedroom, setting your nerves on edge.

God forbid the noise travels through the walls into your next-door neighbor's bedroom. Harriet and Miro do not need to hear what you’re up to this Friday evening.

Maybe, up to this Friday evening.

You haven’t decided yet, though one could argue that calling was half the battle.

Dressed head-to-toe in an emerald cocktail dress with a face full of tear-stricken makeup, you feel utterly ridiculous sitting at the foot of your bed — not even the edge of the mattress, but the goddamn floor.

Even your black heels, now scuffed from someone stepping on them on your way out to fetch a cab, remain dangling at your toes.

(As non-committal as your last relationship, ironically enough.)

The experts say don’t shit where you eat. Dating someone you work with typically goes up in flames as fast as a rogue wildfire — and you should have listened to all of the warning signs, but Porco Galliard had been so damn charming that you’d forgotten just about everything.

Including your dignity, apparently, since you seemed to conveniently forget the part where he has had an on-again, off-again relationship with Pieck Finger well before you got hired at this place.

Not exactly side chick behavior, since he technically didn’t cheat, but the sting of being second place before the race even started lingered deep.

(Didn’t you know? He always chooses Pieck. It’s just one of those things.)

Well, no missing that now.

Especially since the two of them were so cozy at the annual shareholder event — right in front of your fucking salad.

The event’s slated to end at eleven so you’ve been nursing a wild array of drinks since seven, with little breaks.

In retrospect, the napkin with scribbled chicken scratch that Annie Leonhart, your closest colleague, shoved into your hand in the midst of your brooding at the bar may have been a joke:

You need to loosen up. Call this stupid sex line and get that stick out of your ass.

She wasn’t kidding.

Every muscle in your body is too taut, including your brain.

So you took a cab, stumbled into your apartment, and landed — here.

Your phone sits right in front of you next to one of your half-worn heels, on speaker at the lowest setting.

Maybe it’s best to let the pre-recording list the entire numerical menu.

Maybe it’ll deter you from pressing anything at all.

“If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

Yeah, that wasn’t happening.

You tap the napkin carelessly against the stem of your glass of wine, contemplating exactly how Annie Leonhart managed to find the information for this service to begin with.

Did she already have a match?

Did she regularly call them to blow off some steam?

She's always so chill. It would make sense.

There’s a chance this is a nasty prank at your lowest moment, but you don’t think Annie cares enough about other people to plan such a masterful takedown.

At the work event, she seemed pretty serious about the legitimacy of Scout Services Hotline, and honestly?

Even if you had been drinking all night at the event, you were going to need way more liquid courage to even consider trying your hand at calling a sex line to quell weekend loneliness.

So naturally, you opened a new bottle of wine.

At the first glass of wine, you still weren’t ready.

The second? The napkin sat adjacent to your laptop as you played compilations of sad break-up songs further aggravating your spiraling depression.

The third was the charm to get you to pick up the fucking phone to see what the fuss was all about.

“If you’re looking for someone specific — whether it’s the man, woman, or person of your dreams — press two.”

Tempting.

Your finger reaches out for the ‘2’ on your screen, but you wait it out.

“If you don’t have a preference for your delicious match, press three.”

“You could’ve done without the delicious part,” you mumble to yourself, picking up the glass of wine to take a generous sip. An involuntary grimace tugs at your cheeks.

“If you’re looking to speak with one of our representatives or need more assistance, press four for more options.”

For a solid five minutes you wait.

Contemplating.

Deciding.

You could press the red circle to hang up and go to bed.

It wouldn’t be the first time you rubbed one out and called it a night.

After all, what’s one more lonely weekend?

The spiel starts up again on a loop with the same seductive, breathy feminine voice.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest—”

You smash a button, but you’re not sure which one you’ve clicked.

Before you can lean over to see on your screen, a different feminine voice comes over the speaker.

It’s a little higher pitched than the menu screen voice, but it’s still inviting. Warm.

“Thank you for choosing the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking to Petra. May I have the pleasure of knowing the name of the person I’m speaking to this evening?”

A name.

You should give a name that isn’t your real name.

But technically wouldn’t your name be on the credit card if you go through with this anyway?

“You can give a nickname, too, if that makes you feel better,” the woman named Petra adds as if she's a mind reader, breaking the running silence on your end of the line. “A lot of our clients like giving a fake name for security and anonymity.”

“Doesn’t that break once you put in your credit card information?” you blurt, not realizing the thought has spilled on your lips.

Petra laughs musically.

“Technically yes, but if you prefer to be called something, then we’ll be sure to add that to your profile. I take it it's your first time calling.”

Why are you doing this again?

“Painfully obvious, right?” you lament, staring down at the scribble on the napkin.

Did Annie have a fake name with this service?

“Not painfully at all,” Petra promises. “It’s a learning curve. So what may I call you?”

Real or fake?

Committed or just testing the waters?

“Scarlet?” you suggest, wincing immediately at the on-the-nose literary reference.

Letters, passion, blah blah love — it’s about the only creative thing your wine-addled brain can muster.

“I like Scarlet,” she hums, and immediately your brain is set on fire.

Are you going to be seriously this easy?

“Are you female, male, non-binary, genderfluid, prefer not to say…?”

“Female.”

"Pronouns?"

"Um, she and her."

“And you’re over eighteen?”

“Definitely over eighteen.”

“Perfect. So, Scarlet — did you have a preference on who you wish to speak to today? If you have a fantasy you wish to fulfill, then I can select someone for you.”

You want to scream.

Neurons fire as you try to come up with a cool and collected answer, only to allow the elixir of truth on your tongue to spill the beans.

“Just someone who’s got their shit together, honestly.” You exhale an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. I’m just calling because — I mean, I know you don’t care, but I like… um, deep voices? Stronger voices. Honestly I have no idea what to—”

“I have just the person.”

You pause.

Blink.

But you didn’t even describe anyone, not really.

A voice, maybe, if they cater to kinks of that nature.

You can only imagine they do — it’s a sex hotline, for crying out loud.

“Wait, you do?”

“Mhm!” she perkily states. “Is a man alright for this evening?”

A man with a deep voice who allegedly has his pretend shit together.

Granted it isn’t the opposite of Porco, he’s fairly capable at his job and out living his life just fine, but maybe you were just looking for a copy.

(Or a clue.)

“A man is… fine,” you hesitate. “Wait, so when do I give you my credit card information? My friend hooked me up with this, um — I don’t know if you have her name or if I should even say it, I know there’s probably some confidentiality—”

“Hold that thought,” Petra interrupts cheerfully. “You get the first fifteen-minute session for free, actually — you called just in time before our first-timer coupon expires.”

You can’t hide your surprise.

“Really?”

“Really!”

Ha, your fucking luck.

“If you're enjoying the call, just tell your match and we can set up your card and keep it going. All we ask is that you take a survey after your session. Then you’ll be in our system with this phone number! We’ll never solicit you for calls, but it’ll make the process faster the next time should you call our hotline again.”

You drop your head back on your mattress, sighing heavily.

“...okay, yeah. That sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Give me one moment, Scarlet,” Petra giggles.

You hear something shift on her side.

Maybe she’s swiveling her chair. Are they located in an actual office building?

God, an office where people just do this for a living sounds larger than life.

“I’ll connect you with your match in a moment.”

Then the line cuts out to the opening notes to Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On, and you’re pretty sure you’re this close to chugging the rest of this bottle in one gulp.

“Is this seriously what you do on weekends, Annie?” you mumble to yourself, enduring the brutality of the waiting music while Petra connects you to your alleged match.

A man with a deep voice who has his shit together.

Is that even a real kink?

Has the bar really gotten that low?

Should you have described someone’s appearance? It wasn’t like it mattered over the phone.

As soon as it gets to the high note of the song, the line cuts again — silence.

Immediately you scramble to sit up taller, your hands fumbling to grab the phone from the floor.

You bring it up to your face, cupping the device in both palms to muffle the noise if it becomes downright pornographic in seconds.

Moment of truth.

With bated breath you wait — the person on the other line sighs, heavy and deep, before answering with the most nonchalant tone.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re speaking with Levi. May I ask whom I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

Holy fuck.

Immediately you forget your own voice listening to the hum of the receiver.

While you’ve only joked in passing that you have a voice kink, it’s screaming in neon lights here and now: this man’s voice may be monotone, but there is a growl to it.

A rumbling.

At this very moment, you completely forget that this man is on speaker phone and you’ve just returned home from the worst work event in the world.

You don’t have an ex-boyfriend.

You don’t even know your home address.

You’re simply… existing, lips parted, taking in the sheer tingle rolling through your torso.

“You there?”

Right, you’re meant to talk back.

“Huh? Oh — yes! Yeah,” you recover poorly. “Hi. It’s, um, it’s Scarlet.”

“Mm, Scarlet… Scarlet, Scarlet, Scarlet…”

The way the name drags along his tongue nearly makes your mouth water.

His voice — Levi — is smooth, like the velvet on your dress you’ve yet to take off.

“A pretty name for a pretty thing like you.” Something ruffles and Levi makes a small noise on the other end, likened to a cut-off hum. “Tell me what you look like, Scarlet.”

All you can do is stare at a chip in your wooden dresser directly across from you, listening to him speak.

“I’m…”

What do you even say?

How come you have to say anything at all?

Can’t he just read a takeout menu to you and call it a night?

Before you can answer, there’s an amused huff. “Someone’s nervous.”

Your face turns — well, a certain shade of scarlet.

“Ha. Sorry, I’ve—”

“Never done this before?” he finishes for you.

How mortifying.

“Is it that obvious?”

“It’s cute,” he relents, and you feel your face turn a degree hotter. “Don’t worry — I’ve been told I’m a great teacher, so you’re in good hands.”

“You’ll have your work cut out of you, trust me,” you breathe, feeling like you’ve been injected with an overdose of a truth serum. “Because I just got home from this stupid work event. My ex-boyfriend brought his new girlfriend — who also works with us — as his date — yay, me — except I feel like I was the side-piece-in-waiting for them. So he’s off getting laid and I’m calling a complete stranger on a random Friday because my work colleague recommended this phone sex hotline for a quick solution.”

Silence.

You blink twice as dread settles in your cut. You tap the phone off of speaker and push the device close to your ear, balancing it with your shoulder.

Did you scare him away?

Was that too much of a depressive dump?

You suddenly want to crawl under your bed frame and hide there forever.

But then — a gentle chuckle sounds from the other end of the line, and arousal shoots straight to your lower belly.

“Good thing all of the dirty talk is my job, then,” he muses. “You’re supposed to lay back and listen.”

“Listen?”

“Yeah, unless you weren’t looking to get bossed around.”

It isn’t the worst idea you’ve ever heard, that’s for sure.

“If I’m honest with you, Levi, I don’t know what I’m looking for,” you confess, running a hand down your face.

“Then let me figure it out for you. We have time.”

The man calling himself Levi pauses on the other end.

“Did you want to get fucked, Scarlet?”

Well, shit, he didn’t have to say it like that.

“Yes,” you blurt without thinking, then fumbling to recover. “I mean— Sorry, clearly I called thinking about sex, and your voice is extremely lovely and actually very hot—”

“Oh, you think so?” Levi interrupts, honey-smooth voice humming with amusement with that same hum that’s going to make you scream.

“Absolutely. Completely. Are you serious?” you sputter. “You’re like an ASMR wet dream.”

“A what?”

“A wet dream?”

“No, the other thing — ASMR?”

“Um, like when people make really niche quiet noises to a microphone with their mouths, and it gives you the tingly sensation in the back of your head.”

“Interesting,” Levi says. “So are you saying that’s what I do to you?”

For the umpteenth time, your brain blanks.

God, you could scream into your pillow.

If you weren’t so afraid you’d forget to mute your microphone first, then you already would be.

“Yes! — I mean, yes, but — wait, can we just pause this for a second?”

For a moment he doesn’t answer, but the tone of his voice shifts: still just as sultry, but with a hint of confusion and a dash of concern.

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

No, this entire night is weird.

If you don’t say something, then this is going to just keep looping and wasting his time.

“Okay,” you start, mustering the courage to get through your speech, “I know I’m spoiling the first-caller coupon for a free call and I’m sorry, I’ll totally pay for the session since you’re great and sound insanely hot and I’m sure you’re amazing at your job, but I just…”

You trail off, collecting your swimming thoughts.

“...I’m something like six or seven drinks in, I am craving potato chips, and I’d really like to just talk to someone for a few minutes.”

There.

It’s out in the open, your confession to the liminal altar.

You half-expect him to hang up rather than wasting his time with someone like you, but to your surprise, there is no click. No call ended. No new automated message.

“Six or seven is a lot,” he comments, and you can picture a brow furrow even if he doesn’t have a face. “Does this mean you handle your liquor, or is this a one-off rager?”

“I think I’m only still functioning because I ate my weight in dinner rolls at the party.”

“Do you have a glass or bottle of water near you?”

The switch up lessens the tension in your shoulder blades in an instant.

His voice is just as crooning, deep and inviting, but it’s nice to simply be asked.

“Nope.”

His voice sharply changes, authoritative and firm. “Then go get one.”

The demand does something to you.

Without thinking twice you begin to rock up on your heels, standing at full height.

“Okay, Mr. Bossy.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asks with a sprinkle of sarcasm. “Someone who has their shit together, if I read the notes right.”

“They write that stuff down?” you ask genuinely, minding your step as you pad barefoot across your apartment to your fridge.

“It’s your session,” he reminds softly. “We do whatever it is you want to do.”

“Even if it’s just to talk?”

“You’d be amazed at how many people call just to talk. Though I can’t say it’s my specialty.”

“No?”

“No. I’m not much of a small talker.”

The refrigerator door swings wide. “What’s your specialty, then?”

“Kink play, mostly. Dom and Sub. Guided masturbation. Edging. Making decisions for people who want to forget about making them for a while.”

One second the bottle of water is in your hand.

Next it’s on the floor.

“That’s, uh… a wide array of specialties,” you say. “And your rate, it’s…?”

“Not cheap.”

“Got it. So I’m really flubbing this free call.”

It’s small, but you hear a chuckle on the other end. “You said you wanted to talk, Scarlet, so we’re talking.”

Bending to grab your water bottle, you untwist the cap.

“Does this bother you, wasting your time talking?”

“You’re not wasting my time, Scarlet,” he says with such a promise that you almost believe it’s genuine. “You have a pretty voice, and you’re funny.”

“Shut up.”

“You do, and you are.”

“Uh-huh. And do you talk to a lot of people during your shifts?”

“That’s confidential.”

“So a lot.”

“Confidential.”

“And the length of calls,” you test, “are they hypothetically confidential, too?”

“It’s per minute, so.”

“Per minute?” you gawk. “Jesus, I’d go bankrupt talking to you.”

“Well, premium members receive bills per half hour,” he explains. “More bang for your buck.”

“Quite literally," you mumble. "And what’s a premium subscription get you?”

“Didn’t you check out the website before calling?”

“I told you I stumbled out of my cab and called the number on my napkin, Levi,” you chide. “I didn’t exactly do my research in my sexually frustrated state.”

“Fair, can’t blame you there.”

There’s something of a grunt on the other end, like he’s stretching his arms over his head.

Maybe he’s sitting in an office chair, too, going through the motions of his profession the same way the Petra lady had been.

You keep wanting to imagine what he’s doing on the other line, but you realize you haven’t asked the titular question yet.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah, baby?”

It’s breathy, a roll of thunder in his tongue.

Instead of an office chair, you imagine a man lying on his bed.

Maybe his tie is half-done, hanging loosely around his neck.

Button-down open, exposing the planes of his chest; dress trousers unbuttoned and loose around his hips, so he can easily slide a hand—

Whoa.

You stop walking back to your bedroom and blink twice. “Oh, so you like pet names.”

Your face, in miraculous humiliation, grows another degree hotter at how amused he sounds with himself. “I never said that.”

“Sure,” Levi replies with a smirk to the concession. “What is it, Scarlet?”

(Maybe you’ll permanently change your name to Scarlet after tonight if it sounds this good on a man’s lips.)

You finally unzip the side of your dress and wiggle out, before finding a cozy spot in the middle of your mattress.

“How much time do I have left on this freebie?”

“Approximately three minutes.”

Time flies when you’re too busy gawking over someone’s voice, apparently.

“Can I ask what you look like?” you finally decide, playing along.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask,” Levi responds, returning to that same seductive tone he’d used when he first picked up the line. “Black hair, guess it’s a little shaggier than usual. Undercut.”

You squint to your ceiling. “I’m thinking of Dimitri from Anastasia right now but with black hair.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“You’ve seriously never seen Anastasia?”

“It’s a movie?”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry for your childhood.”

“It’s an animated movie?” he scoffs. “Even worse.”

“You wound me,” you joke, pressing a hand over the cup of your beige bra. “What color are your eyes?”

“A gray-ish blue,” he tells you. “Sharp nose. High cheekbones. I’m a daily gym go-er, so I’m mostly lean muscle. I can probably pick you up, easily.”

So a fit man with an undercut hairstyle with gray-blue eyes and a relatively sharp face.

Now you have a face to the image of a man lying on his bed, still in that button-down shirt and dress trousers.

His happy trail is probably dark, too, disappearing just under the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Or boxers?

Maybe nothing.

Your hand moves on its own accord to the waistband of your panties, toying with the fabric.

Contemplating.

Wondering if it’s wrong — when it really shouldn’t be wrong at all.

“You sound handsome,” you murmur. “I wouldn’t mind being picked up.”

“Wouldn’t be the only thing I’d do to you,” he flippantly states, and your brain blanks to pure putty. “You sound a little more winded than before. Doing alright over there, party animal?”

“It’s late,” you lie even when you damn well know you don’t have to lie. “Lots of drinking, first water of the night, lying down…”

“Better make it two waters before you fall asleep,” Levi states. “That’s an order, Scarlet.”

“Uh-huh.”

Your hand dips under your underwear, testing the waters.

But—

“Final sixty seconds,” he adds. “Any last words you want to get in before the line disconnects?”

“Only one minute left?” you protest, ripping your hand out of your underwear to pull the phone away from your ear.

14:02

So it really had been a fifteen-minute call.

God damnit.

Tapping the speaker icon once more, you stare at your phone and press your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

“What’s your extension?”

Because you have to know.

Even if you don’t call again, it’s a comfort to have it on hand.

Levi waits a moment before responding.

“Two-five-one-two.”

2512.

You swipe away from the call to quickly pull up your notes app, tapping the number down with a noted reminder: the guy with the hot voice!

“Are you going to call me again, Scarlet?”

You open your mouth, but you struggle with an answer.

(You only have a few seconds! Think, idiot, think!)

“I’m not sure if—”

Click.

“Hello? Levi?”

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. Please stay on the line for a quick two-minute survey so we can better serve your fantasies in the future.”

Out of time.

You drop your phone to your stomach and groan.

Instead of calling back, you close your eyes — and, not before long, fall asleep to a dream of only one voice.

— —

Saturday is a wash.

You wake late, missing an invitation to brunch.

For the better half of the day, you wonder about him.

Levi.

Your arbitrary match that doesn't feel so arbitrary anymore.

(It's placebo effect, you tell yourself. They're supposed to make you feel wanted.)

Punishing yourself for your excessive liquor and stupid plans, you trudge to your local gym and do your best to stay focused on your workout.

Every nameless person with dark hair that walks past you on the sidewalk from your apartment; anyone could be him.

The man waiting in line at the coffee shop.

The man who accidentally walked into you while you were switching the song on your playlist at the crosswalk.

The man weight training in the corner of the room, fringe cascading down his face as he drips sweat.

You keep the napkin in your gym bag, then transfer it to your purse as you run errands.

You could call.

It isn’t like you’re strapped for cash at the moment.

Granted it’s very wish fulfillment and it isn’t like he’s actually into you, but the attention is nice.

Besides — you haven’t thought of your ex once since you woke up.

Annie texts you twice within ten minutes of each message, which is unheard for her.

[A. LEONHART]: So? Did you call?

[A. LEONHART]: Hello, earth to moron. At least like my message to tell me you’re alive. I’m not being interviewed by Dateline for you.

(Ah, there she is. Classic Annie.)

[YOU]: Yeah, I called. Not sure if it’s my thing.

[A. LEONHART]: Sometimes they match you with a dud. 2nd time’s the charm ;)

[YOU]: Do you ever use someone’s extension?

[A. LEONHART]: Duh. I’m a regular of one guy.

Okay, so she talks to a guy. Something grips your stomach as you type your reply.

[YOU]: Can I ask his name?

[A. LEONHART]: Why, so we don’t eiffel tower this?

[YOU]: jfc annie

[A. LEONHART]: lmao his name is Bert

So not Levi.

For some odd reason, you breathe a sigh of relief as you close out of your messages.

Maybe you're one of a million, but at least you're not sharing with Annie.

Once you return home from your errands, it's close to dinnertime.

You cook something simple for yourself, occasionally glancing over at your purse like you can x-ray vision through the fabric to see the napkin.

Then again, it isn’t like you actually need the napkin.

The number is already in your phone.

Pulling out your device, you set it on the kitchen counter and draw a slow, calculative inhale.

One more call can’t hurt.

Levi may not even be working.

Hell, he could be talking to someone else.

A regular.

Several regulars.

For over five minutes you stare down at your most recent calls list, willing yourself to just get brave for one second to press the button.

(It isn’t like Porco’s going to call you.)

The soured thought propels your hand without thinking, fingertip pressing the green phone icon faster than you can think.

You brace for the ringtone, fists balled tight on the cool kitchen surface.

“Thank you for calling the Scout Services Hotline. You’re only a dial away from your wildest fantasies with the sexiest singles near your area. If you already know your match’s extension, press one.”

You continue staring.

Are you really doing this?

It isn’t like it means anything, which is exactly what you need with the upcoming work week.

A distraction.

A very expensive distraction, but hey — you’ll avoid takeout for a few weeks.

How bad can it get?

“If you’re looking for someone specific —”

You press one.

Author's Note:

Thank you for reading part one of my zany little 'Sleepless in Seattle' modern au! This has been a bluesky idea for a while now, and I needed a little reprieve from my other angsty Levi longfic silver underground, so I hope you enjoyed the ride.

There will be actual smut in part two, but as a Reader!Writer I had the thought of 'would I be suave enough to do the first phone call flawlessly or totally waste my free coupon'? and this chapter was born, lol. I promise this is not Porco slander.

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this new series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction #snk fanfic #aot fanfic #aot fic #snk fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfiction #fic: press four for more

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grlpartdoll · 2 months

Text

errrmm idk i have been feeling sluggish and kitty-like all day so I decided to indulge in some fantasies. poly141 with kitty reader who's just a wild, feral little sleepy princess. *mdni* and also be aware of mentions of violence as well as tiny bits of smut! I scribbled this like a madman with his poetry back in the days, under candlelight, breathing feverishly, needing it out of me like some kind of demon needing to be exorcised. So needless to say it's not perfect, not reread, not corrected. Just some raw piece of my messed up lil head! Okay ^___^ Oki enjoy.

wld u like... Da prequel?

It's no secret that you're the team's secret weapon — some half-wild failed scientist experiment that left you more animal than human. Most people don't know exactly what it is you do, or what has been done to you, but they know that if even Ghost is afraid of you, then they better stay in your good graces.

You're a small thing, compared to those men, though in the real world you'd probably be deemed average sized. But next to them, you're tiny, small, even. You play coy and gentle and kind, never having to lift a finger because your boys do it all for you.

Sometimes you will simply drop, lay in a ball, and catnap. Even if it's during training, or in the mess hall, or meetings.

One time, Price was there with his whole team, including you of course, and you were going over training with the new recruits, and talking about how their lives would be from now on.

Until then, everyone but Price had been quiet, simply looking out for him from behind. Until Gaz felt a tug at his sleeve. As instinct went, the recruits' eyes followed you as you rubbed your eyes, a slight pout on your face as you whined quietly that you were sleepy. Like a cat, you stretched yourself wide a long, though even with your arms up, you didn't surpass the men's heights. Arching your back, you pushed yourself up against him, quietly mewling that you wanted your bed.

Scouting the room, he noticed every seat was occupied, so he simply scooped you up, sent that little secret gaze to Price that told him their princess was sleepy, and simply left.

As the recruits toured the barracks, they found gaz and you splayed across one of the old, vintage couch, with you practically disappearing under Gaz's sweatshirt, your little hands (paws) buried underneath it, with your face shoved in his chest.

On another day, while you were showing the recruits how to spar, paired up with Ghost, you got into a particularly scary position, with him cornering you, with his arm around your throat, and you made that tiny, distressed noise in the back of your throat, and that was all it took for him to let go.

You immediately scampered away once Ghost was done telling the recruits how to do what he did exactly, and dismissing them. You were a bit skittish, like a cat, and when cornered, you often bit— went wild again and scratched eyes out, or anything that you could reach, really, and it often put you back into that violent little headspace. You didn't particularly like that headspace — ironic, that you were in the army, sure, but what else were you meant to do with what you were given? — but since it was Ghost, you let him, though unable to swallow the little noises that escaped you.

And he feels horrible for it — because he never wants to hurt their sweet little girl, and god forbid you actually start to fight back again like you did at first.

So he goes to search for you when he's done, cursing underneath his mask when he can't find you. He eventually does, though, finding you curled up in your room, in the adorned little crate Price and the guys had gotten you. When you got into a particularly bad headspace, you would go into the crate (an old habit instilled in you from your old keeper, who would always put you in the crate if you so much as argued with him) which had been covered in pillows and blankets and little string lights to keep you occupied and your mind empty.

You're curled up in there, holding a little ghost plushie to your chest, murmuring a song.

He sits beside you, and speaks to you, slowly coaxing you out until you're curled up in his lap and putty in his hands once again.

It always takes you a few days to come back to normal, but it's always worth it, because Ghost likes his little kitty.

It's no secret, also, that Price likes a desk pet. That he prefers doing paperwork when you're sitting with him, at his feet, your head serenely splayed across his leg.

That's what you exchange for him filling out your mission reports — he gets some company, and you get to go blissfully head empty when he scruffs you and you kneel for him.

As for Soap, he likes the wild little you, so he takes you with him on runs, where it often ends with him chasing you through the woods surrounding the base, and playing games with you. He will play at any games you want until you're all knackered out, whining for him to carry you when you head back for base. This is how you end up forming a routine with Soap, who naps with you every morning until the sun is finally fully up. Price and the others don't particularly think the habit is healthy — to sleep so much, but it's Soap's fault! He's the one who got you running after him, and from him, all over the base! It's his fault you're such a sleepy, tiny little lass. He feels bad to let you sleep it off alone, duh!

But alas,

When you're on the field, you're a completely different person. The best in your field— some might say. This is why, despite your silly antics, and your quite inconvenient sleep schedule, the team keeps you around. (And because they're quite literally crazily in love with you, but.. no one says that. It's casuuuaaaal.)

On the field, you're too active, you swing too hard, claw too deep, and exhaust yourself. And even then, you keep going. You keep running. You're a marvelous sneak artist, getting past thousands of guards. You're a perfect trickster, all it takes is puppy dog eyes and quivering chin from you for enemies to get you inside their strongholds. You're their best sharp shooter, and their best fighter, despite how wild and almost animalistic your fighting style is. You always get the job done, and always do it without hiccups.

But sometimes, of course, not everyone can be perfect. Sometimes, you have so much adrenaline and so much rage built up in you that once the mission is done, you have a hard time disconnecting, you have a hard time stopping your fists from pummeling into an already dead man's face.

You kick and bite and scratch the whole way out as they rip you from dead, cold bodies. Which is exactly why you and the boys have a safe home, where they take you after missions, and fuck you pliant and sweet, bringing you back to the sleepy little wandering creature you are around base.

Soap is the best at it, though, always going full nights at a time with you. Price can go two rounds, maybe four if he's angry with something (never you), Ghost maybe five if he's very pent up and you've been bratting at him, but Gaz and Soap are always the ones that manage to fuck you back into your place the best.

Gaz will be softly murmuring at you, cooing and mumbling sweet words to you while his cock is ramming into your sweet, slick little tight hole, always breaking your walls with the kindest, most softest words, even if each of his thrusts are seemingly bullying your hole into taking him deeper each time he pulls in, and out. In, and out.

But Soap is the one who outdoes your wildness, who bites and scratches like you do, who will let you ride him until you're spent, and then ask for more, bouncing your limp little body on his cock until he cums for the eighth time that night. He's the one who meets every each of your kisses with just as much ferocity, letting it become more of a fight then a sweet, loving gesture — forcing his tongue into your mouth, licking your teeth, nipping at your lips, just plain nasty and gross, until you're both panting and drool is covering both of your chins.

Anyway. I just think it would be a cute little thing, to witness them all match you in different ways.

#simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #tf 141 x reader #poly141 x reader #johny soap mactavish my beloved #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #john price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #poly 141 #kitty!reader #kind of weird if you squint #kinda gross #kinda sorta

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katsukistofu · 2 months

Text

prickle me pink

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ k. bakugo x fem reader. fluff. ⭑ katsuki finds himself taking care of the cactus you gifted him against his better judgement.

It’s in the little things he does.

The sticky notes he leaves for you in the bento box he “accidentally” made an extra of and gives to you because he “ain’t wasting perfectly good food,” telling you to drink your damn water and that he’s proud of you, or that you look cute today.

Your favorite snack and a juicebox on your desk in the morning before the bell rings, which you swear you’ve only mentioned liking once and it was when you first met.

Whenever he fusses over your jacket when it’s cold outside and insists you hold hands with him, saying it’s “more work for him if you get sick.” Yet the way he takes off his scarf to wrap you up in its warmth is devastatingly gentle, despite his coarse scoldings.

Homemade chocolates shoved into your hands the moment you arrive at school every single White Day without fail, ignoring the stares from envious onlookers as he tugs you by the hand to walk you to class. The bandaids, only the cute character ones because you’re a stubborn brat who won’t wear anything else no matter how bad you get hurt, and ointment he keeps in his school bag.

Because he knows how accident prone you can be and it drives him insane whenever he sees a new scratch or bruise come from out of nowhere when you were fine moments ago.

Katsuki’s always been meticulous about everything in his life, and that includes loving you.

So the confusion on his face is almost humorously palpable as he squints at the cactus you randomly place in front of him in class one day.

“What is this?” Your boyfriend grumbles, holding his notebooks and pencil case in his hands. “Taking up space on my desk.”

“Suki!” You pout. “That’s mean. I bought this cactus.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Because…?”

“‘Cause it reminds me of you!”

The fuck does that even mean, it reminds you of him? This short, misshapen, stubby little thing that needed to be buried in dirt to even stand up on its own? Katsuki snorts, his amusement only growing at the sight of your deepening worried frown.

As if he would ever throw away anything from you. He’d rather take one of his own explosions to the face.

“Thanks, I guess.” Is all he says, his hand coming down to give a strong pat to your head. It was kind of ugly, but whatever. Hell, it was a gift from you that you specifically got for him, and honestly that’s all that mattered. “I’ll take care of it.”

You beam up at him from under his palm, and his heart clenches. “Really?”

“Yeah. Now go sit your ass down and take out that homework I know you forgot to do last night.”

“Yessir!” You mock salute and hurry over to your seat, opening up your shoulder bag.

Denki grimaces as he passes by, pointing at the new green addition to the blond boy’s desk. “Ew Bakugo, what is that?”

“Shut up, Dunce Face.” Katsuki scowls, protectively moving the pot closer to him. “Your eyes are getting shittier than Glasses’.”

Mina laughs as Denki sulks, now in his own seat, and glances over to where he was pointing at. “Ooh, it’s actually pretty cute!”

“Damn right it is.”

Katsuki’s lips curve slightly in pride, crimson eyes flickering over to your direction where you were hunched over scribbling on paper with scrunched up eyebrows, trying to do some problems on your own while you wait for him to come over. Fuck, you’re cute, he thinks.

“That’s ‘cause my girl picked it.”

After class, Katsuki finds himself googling “how to not kill a cactus” for the first time in his life and of course it’s because of you.

His brow raises as he scans the gardening article on his phone screen.

He’s no green thumb but he’s had some experience and it was pretty easy to keep a plant alive, but just to make sure. Half of it is information he already knows, put your cactus in a good spot to get sunlight, water it once a week, yada yada.

But what catches his eye is the section labeled “Flowering Cacti.”

So they could bloom depending on the species, and only under very nit-picky conditions, like cool to warm temperature fluctuations and specific pollinators. Interesting.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wrangle a bat to get some flowers to grow on it, though he could probably ask that animal-talking extra to help.

“Katsuki!” Something tackles him from behind and he barely budges, already knowing it’s you. It’s muscle memory at this point, the feeling of your soft body against his, etched into the molecules of his skin from all those times you’d sneak into his dorm past curfew to cuddle and how you always fell asleep on him during class field trips, not to mention plane rides.

You peer over his broad shoulder like a hamster peeking out of their hidey hole. “What are you looking at?”

“Nosy.” Katsuki snorts, holding up his phone to your face. Deliberately only showing the guide on how to care for cacti indoors, and not the flowering one. He doesn’t want you to see it, not yet.

─────────

You’re in your boyfriend’s dorm room several days later, finally finishing the last problem on the new sheet of homework you got from Ectoplasm’s class. Bakugo hovers over you to scan your equations, finally giving a satisfied nod.

A jolt of pride courses through him. You got all of them right, just like how he taught you.

“Good job.” Katsuki pats your head and your heart soars. You tilt your head up to give a little smooch to his palm and he blushes, jerking his hand back.

“The fuck?” He laughs, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to his mouth in retaliation, pressing a painstakingly soft kiss there, then to your palm too. Katsuki smirks at the way he makes you shakily exhale at his touch. “What was that for?”

“Nothing.” An almost drowsy, content smile spreads across your lips. “Just love you so much.”

"Stop trying to one up me,” Katsuki rasps in your ear. You yelp as his hands squeeze your hips hard, holding onto his toned arms to steady yourself.

“Not trying to! Just telling the truth.” You keep looking at him with a cute, dumb grin on your face, and his breath catches.

Your eyes widen as you sneak a glance at his desk.

“Woah! Katsuki Jr. got taller.”

He snorts, turning his head to also look at the cactus that’s been sitting under his lamp for the past week. “Katsuki Jr.?”

“Yeah because you guys have the same hair.” You exaggerate a dreamy sigh, reaching up to caress his cheek. “He really takes after you, Katsuki Sr.”

“Shut up, dumbass.” He nudges your cheek with his nose, drinking up the delicious sounds of your giggles.

“Can I sit in your lap now?” You ask shyly.

With an eye roll, Katsuki holds his arms out for you to claim the reward he proposed earlier for this study session. “Get over here already.”

His arms wrap comfortably around your waist as you settle in your usual spot between his firm thighs, and he drops his head down and brushes a soft kiss against the crook of your neck.

“I love you too.” The pink blossoming across his cheeks contradicts his gruff tone, but you’ve known him too long to not know better.

Katsuki Bakugo is meticulous in loving you, and that means he never says anything he doesn't mean.

─────────

The vibrations in the pocket of his slacks are becoming so incessant that he can’t ignore them anymore and Katsuki sighs under his breath as he slips it out while Aizawa’s turned to the board to write something.

ass gremlin

sukiiiii

ass gremlin

katsudonnnnn

ass gremlin

kitkattttt

katsu curry

What

ass gremlin

send me pics of our baby pls i wanna see how tall he is now

katsu curry

That cactus you bought me two weeks ago

ass gremlin

duh!!!

katsu curry

Later

In my room before we go out

ass gremlin

YAYYAYAY

can u help me pick my outfit too

katsu curry

Duh

We’re matching dumbass

Katsuki’s behind you with a firm hand on your waist to hold you in place when you smirk at the window sill, and he looks up to see that you’re admiring Katsuki Jr.

The cactus was an even more vibrant shade of green than when you first gave it to him, and small, delicate pink flowers were starting to bloom on its fuzzy head.

It took a lot of effort to get those to start growing, but it was all worth it to see the delighted expression on your face right now.

“So you really have been taking care of him like he’s your kid, huh?”

“Our kid.” He corrects you with a grumble against your neck, easily zipping up the back of your dress in one smooth motion. “Told you I would, didn't I? Thing was a pain in the ass to find high potassium fertilizer for.

“Aw, really?” You turn around to face him and he brings you closer as your arms rest on his broad shoulders. “Well… you know how it’s better to have two cats than one, since just one kitty can make them feel lonely?”

He knows that look. Katsuki scowls, roughly poking a dent into your cheek to discourage the mischievous grin that's starting to spread across your face.

“You’ll never guess what I got you for our anniversary.”

“No.”

“But Katsuki Jr.!”

“I raised that little shit, he’ll tough it out.”

“I just thought maybe we could get him a sibling—“

“No.”

ur contact name is ass gremlin bc u have bad habit of smacking his butt when he walks by lol

#official team up mission bakugo art from sakiyo jump 2024 ed #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha fluff #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo oneshot #bakugou x reader

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xervn · 7 months

Text

like a french girl 🎨

part 1 - paint me | part 2 | art major ellie x dance major reader | ellie photo

ao3 link

summary: ellie had been struggling with finding the perfect model for her art final. that was until she saw you.

18+ MDNI | 2.2k words | tags; college au, pining, only a little explicit, no use of y/n, not proofread

disclaimer: not an art or dance major, don't shoot!

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Scribble, scratch, throw. This has been Ellie’s routine since she moved onto campus.

Why? Her professor told her that she draws the human body like it’s lifeless. Ranting about how they’re too one-dimensional and have no depth, her lines are too sharp or not sharp enough; flat and boring in looks and in feeling.

Now listen, Ellie has nothing against criticism. She respects her professor and she’s aware that her drawings lack “vitality”. It’s been something she’s struggled with for a while now, an effect of some recent events and overall adjusting to college life.

Ellie isn’t unable to grasp the anatomy of the body, in fact it’s the opposite. She knows the human body is complex and needs thorough observation. The way the sun hits the skin, the hairs on a knuckle, the creases of a smile. Wide, small, big, tall; no two bodies are exactly the same.

Really, the imagery is so clear to her, but she finds it impossible to transfer the life and motion of the body onto a piece of paper without truly understanding the person. The way she sees it, every body has a story, and in order to make a good piece she needs to know that story.

Since art school is filled to the brim with inspiring, exciting, and vibrant people, she has, of course, tried to talk with them. She attempted to get to know the models, ask them general questions and hope something clicks. Unfortunately, that has yet to happen. She can’t really ask her friends either without it getting awkward. Imagine, “ Oh, hey guys! Can you guys get naked and pose in one spot for my homework?” Hear how weird that sounds? Even though she’s sure Jesse would definitely be down, she values her eyes.

Any “muse” she could possibly ever want was right in front of her, so why was it really impossible for her to find one?

Well, because Ellie didn’t find anyone interesting enough. She’s not shallow or anything, it has nothing to do with how the model looked, Ellie has had several good-looking models. It was more about how she perceived them. It’s just that she hasn’t seen a model that made her ask questions like: “ How’d they get that scar?” “ What does that tattoo mean?” Stuff like that.

The last interesting model she had was probably a fucking homeless guy she shared a blunt with outside a gas station many moons ago. Till this day, he might be one of her best pieces. There’s not a lot of moments like that here.

Nonetheless, Ellie saw this developing– extremely lame— personal requirement of hers annoying as shit. It’s holding her back big time, but she couldn’t help it even if she really wanted to.

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It’s practically useless to keep trying. The tiny voice in Ellie's head presses her to keep going, keep failing, but enough is enough. She is seriously burnt out and any more of this might kill her. The only thing that could help right now is a meaty slice of pizza and a blunt as soon as she thought of it.

Ellie clears out her desk, knocking the stack of crumpled paper into a conveniently placed trash can; a placement made from her constant trials and errors. She pushes up, and stretches widely, obnoxiously groaning like an old man by the end of it. She quickly tidied herself up, tying up half of her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a dark-green flannel shirt she had to sniff before wearing over her plain white tee. She takes a quick look into her floor-length mirror, making sure she looks presentable before grabbing what she needs to head out.

Just as her hand reached for the silver knob, Ellie felt this overwhelming urge to look back. God, she knows what she is going to look back at, but she really hopes she doesn’t. Unfortunately, her eyes land on her sketchbook, laid flat on the desk underneath a lamp’s warm light. She shouldn’t.

She needs a break. She knows she needs a break, but there is a twinge of hope, faith, lodged somewhere inside her. The same faith that’s kept her from dropping out every day for the past four months. Ellie groans as she drags her feet to her desk where she whisks up the brown book and shoves it in her tote bag with an accompanying pencil. She swivels back to the door and strolls out, silently praying her mood improves in the next hour.

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The cafeteria was surprisingly crowded, but Ellie managed to get her pizza without saying ‘fuck it’ to the line. Still, the thought of eating between this buzzing mess when she was in such a shitty mood turned her off. Thankfully, she knew that everyone would be everywhere but the upstairs balcony, especially during this chilly time of year. No sane person would eat out there, and she’s not particularly sane. Ellie saunters off to the balcony and sits herself at a small table facing the view.

It only took a glance around before she came to the realization that the view is not really a view. There’s only a dorm a few feet away, directly across. It’s a large brick-laid, generic building with wide windows. If it weren’t for the blinds, the view into a room would probably be good enough to read a label on something. Ellie’s freckled face grimaces at the thought, imagining what it’d be like if someone watched her rage as she messed up her homework over and over from this distance. Despite that, she thought it’d probably be a pretty good spot to live in. It’s close to the cafeteria and probably a lot bigger than her 1x1 dorm.

With a twinge of curiosity piquing her mind, Ellie glimpses over the windows, and for the most part, they are all closed.

All closed, but yours.

Yours doesn’t even have blinds. You’re on the 3rd floor and almost completely unobscured in a black camisole, sitting on your questionably roomy windowsill with a leg perched up. Ellie can see the fairy lights strung up in your bedroom, and a line of succulents closer to the window; ordered by size, which she briefly thought was cute.

You aren’t facing the window, so she can only see your back. What she could see, though, is you doing your hair, occasionally swaying to what she can only imagine is music. Your room is high, but low enough for her to identify you if she had the pleasure of knowing you. Knowing you, reverberates in her head. Does she know you? Has she met you before? Amongst that babble, there is one more question she is slowly trying to gather an answer to.

Time passes, most definitely shorter than Ellie would have thought passed. Her eyes have been glued on you the whole time, she even forgot about her, now freezing cold, pizza just so she could gawk at you. She still hasn’t seen your face yet, barely even a glimpse, but she already thinks you are stupidly beautiful just by the way you move.

From the graciousness of your movements alone, she thought there was no way in hell you didn’t know she was watching. At some point, your arms got tired, so you smoothly rolled your aching shoulders back; stretching into an arched, effortlessly perfect posture. Ellie’s eyes traced that slight curve of your back as if you’d disappear if she broke off from you.

There is no way it gets better from that, is what she thinks to herself, only to be shut up immediately after when she sees that perfectness of your back stay as you bend over and shift onto both knees to grab something far away, bringing your shorts in view. So short— so tight , they could easily be mistaken for panties.

It was unexpected to say the least, Ellie could feel her face heating up and had to look around her to see if anyone else could see what she was seeing right now. Ellie wondered about the practicality of those shorts, wondered what exactly they were supposed to cover, leering at the plush of your ass peeking out. She thoughtlessly lets her jaw drop before muttering out a low, impressed, and barely over a whisper, “Well, fuck.”

You must’ve noticed your shorts riding up, since you quickly pulled them down after you grabbed what you wanted. Ellie clears her throat, internally scolding herself for being so gross— so perverted. Her brows furrow in embarrassment from all the dirty thoughts she brewed up in that moment. But for some reason, she still doesn’t look away. Well, there’s a list of reasons for her to look away, but she feels like ignoring it.

Then a cold gust of wind bites past her face, clearly a sign from the universe that she should snap out of it, and snap out of it she does.

What the hell happened to her? What is it about you that she keeps leaning into? Suddenly something clicks in her brain. After months of creative agony, something finally clicked. She has sat here completely fascinated by you and she couldn’t tell sooner?

In all honesty, to say she is just “interested” in you would be an understatement. Yeah, now she thinks you’re the perfect model for her final, but she wants to know you beyond just the drawing. A plus is that you just happened to be hot, and Ellie has never been attracted to a subject before, so the whole thing was new and exciting to her. Just the thought of drawing you made her remember why she loved art so much. Ellie reaches for her tote bag sitting in an empty seat beside her, pulling out her sketchbook with more enthusiasm than she probably ever has. She sets the book down, opening up a blank page with one hand and tightening her grip on her pencil in the other.

She looks back up at your window, ready to sketch your life onto paper and.. Shit. You’re looking back.

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Today has been a good day for you, your teacher chose you to teach the choreo you’ve been working on for weeks to your classmates. It was an obvious ego booster for you. You felt good and you wanted to look good too, even if you weren’t going out anywhere. It was just one of those nights. You wanted to experiment with your hair, thinking maybe you’ll do something new before your next practice. Dye it, cut it.. something.

It’s been a while since you started, and after several wrist and shoulder cramps, you were finally finished. You take a look into your hand mirror, peering at your reflection. You’re satisfied now, looking exactly how you’re feeling if you minus the dingy sleep clothes you’re in.

♫ My heart, I never be, I never see, I never know. ♫

Grimes? Really? You pout, upset that your playlist didn’t magically read your mood. What you need is real 2000’s hot girl music. Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, or Beyoncé for crying out loud.

“Alexa, skip!” You shout across the room, just loud enough for the device to hear.

The stupid thing doesn’t even light up, so you call out a few more times but to no avail. Isn’t the whole point of that thing to be voice automated? You sigh and look around for your phone, and seeing it’s nowhere in front of you, you figure it’s behind. You twist your torso to find your phone behind you and luckily you do. As you pick it up, you casually glance out the window without any expectations.

Did you see a figure in the blur as you looked away? You question your eyes, but you decide to take another look and just find out for yourself.

You peer back down and your eyes meet with someone else’s. The sudden eye contact between you and this woman instantly mortified you. Your heart sunk, and all you could do was raise your brows stupidly. She was surprised too, even in the dim light you could see her shocked expression boring back at you. Not only that, it went on for way longer than it should have. Any normal person would’ve looked away, but her eyes lingered on you before she hastily turned away.

You’ve been sitting here, dressing up your hair, listening to your music without a care in the world. Far too absorbed in yourself to realize there’s someone outside your window. You slide off your windowsill and out of sight. Just as your bottom finally hits the wood floor, you feel the coldness of it against your skin and you’re immediately conscious of the fact that your ass was literally out at some point.

The poor girl was trying to eat her food and you were bending over in front of your window like a harlot. It certainly didn’t help that she looked kinda hot. Did she? You peeked over your windowsill, hoping to get another look to really assess her hotness, but she was already gone. Whatever, maybe she didn’t see? But she looked embarrassed… embarrassed for you probably!

You hide your face in your hands and topple to the side, letting out a fake sob. Oh, god. You can already imagine Dina’s face when you tell her. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that thought. That was humiliating as shit, but it’s whatever. It’s not like you’ll see her again.

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side note: if you have any tropes you'd like to see w/ this universe pls do drop an ask 🤭

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#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us part 2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #lesbian #ᝰ like a french girl

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