warnings: mentions of eremika (past), mentions of trauma/nightmares
a/n: from this request!
masterlist
post war!mikasa who starts a farm after her diplomatic duties are done. She grows all the food she needs, cares for chickens and pigs and a few cows. She's got two horses, too, and she spends a lot of her time tending to her crops and her animals. Staying busy is the only thing that helps her avoid the memories.
post war!mikasa who doesn't know how to cope for a long time. Of all the blood on her hands, Eren's seems to cling there like honey. She'll think about his final moments, his death at her blade every day for years on end. The first day of respite she gets is the day she finds you collapsed in the meadow next to her wheat.
post war!mikasa who falls into a familiar rhythm of tending to you. She's bandaged wounds and nursed fevers in camps before. To her, it's just another way to keep her hands busy.
post war!mikasa who smiles when you finally buck up after a few days. She doesn't mind feeding or caring for you. It's nice to have someone to tend to after being alone for so long. Of course, Armin and Jean and Connie come to visit occasionally, but they have their own lives.
post war!mikasa who listens when you tell her your story. She was never worried about you hurting her. You couldn't even if you tried, but it's still relieving to hear that you were just down on your luck and happened to pass out in her meadow.
post war!mikasa who's still suspicious of you. As happy as she is to have company, she still keeps her eye on you, especially when you're out with her animals. She's never met you before, but it's not like she doesn't have enemies who'd wish to see her downfall. You could be a spy. Or an assassin. Someone sent to distract her with a sob story and a pretty face.
post war!mikasa who decides to let you stay as long as you help her around the farm. You say you don't have anywhere else to go, but you're willing to help with daily chores. Mikasa will chop wood, and you'll stack it. She'll harvest wheat, and you'll mill it to flour. You'll milk the cows, and she'll carry the buckets into the house to make cheese and yogurt.
post war!mikasa who doesn't realize a month has passed until Armin comes to visit and asks about you. She finds herself unable to describe your relationship, but she chalks it up to the fact that she's never been the best with words. When Armin asks if she feels safe having you around, she finds that answer much easier but no less surprising.
post war!mikasa who doesn't let her guard down around you until you see her have a nightmare for the first time. They haven't been very intense since you've arrived at her home, some sort of messed up blessing. Tonight, she's been kicking and screaming for a few minutes before she wakes up to you sitting next to her bed with a cup of tea and a slice of bread you baked earlier today. She doesn't say thank you when you offer her the food, but she doesn't push you away when you sit next to her to brush out her tangled, sweaty hair.
post war!mikasa who lets you see her scars for the first time on a particularly hot summer day. The two of you go down to the lake near her farm, looking for some relief from the sun. It's a beautiful area, surrounded by tall trees the provide shelter from the scorching rays. You jump in first. Your vibrancy has been slowly infecting Mikasa. When she first met you, she wouldn't have even entertained the thought of getting in with you. Now? She's stripping down to her shift and wading into the water. She ends up sitting on the edge of the lake while you splash around, and you see her for the first time. The patchwork of scars on her skin. Most are subtle. She hasn't taken very many hits in her life, but they're there. You're sure they're connected to the nightmare she had, but you don't say anything.
post war!mikasa who always thought that Eren would sit heavy on her heart for the rest of her life. While his presence is still there, it's no longer suffocating. Her love for him will never die. It'll never fade. She'll carry him with her for the rest of her life, but you…you make her smile again. For the longest time, she thought she had forgotten how to get her face to do it, but all she needs is to see you, arms and face covered in flour as you huff and puff over the loaf of bread you're kneading.
post war!mikasa who realizes that she doesn't need to love someone like she loved Eren. Love comes in many different shapes and inspires many different kinds of feelings. For Eren, it was loyalty, devotion, and passion. With you, love has started to feel like warmth, peace, and the quiet knowledge that no matter where the day takes you, you'll always end up back in the same place.
post war!mikasa who's unsure of when she started feeling comfortable enough for you to touch her, but she's suddenly aware that she doesn't flinch away when you rest a hand on her shoulder or brush her hair out of her face. In fact, she finds herself leaning into it. The first time she ever initiates touch, you're sitting on the porch right after the sun set. The stars are out and reflecting in your eyes. You're eating a strawberry tart you made together. She walks right over, sits down next to you, and leans into your side like that's where she's always fit.
post war!mikasa who, after another nightmare, lets you crawl into bed behind her. She doesn't move, but she lets you curl up around her. Comfort washes over her, her heart rate slows, and her breathing evens out. When she wakes up and sees that you're still there in the morning, she kisses your cheek to wake you up.
post war!mikasa who starts making you new clothes. She claims that the people in town aren't as good. That she knows you better than them. And, maybe she does. The first dress she makes you is sturdy and fits you better than anything you've ever worn before. From then on out, you let her make your clothes.
post war!mikasa who feels as though you're guiding her scattered soul back into place one piece at a time. It's not loud, it's not passionate, and it's certainly not the intense kind of love she had with Eren. But you're warm and safe and so steady that she's all too willing to let you take her in your hands so you can sort out all the tangles together.
all written work and dividers belong to @ackpplepie!! do not plagiarize, feed my work into ai, or translate it. i do not own the characters or images used above.
cw: hange zoe x fem!reader, sfw, i can't find the artists, help!! listen to this while reading ^^
# would be the type to call you any kind of endearment and even makes her own that she can think of. she calls you differently each day that sometimes you wonder where she gets those ideas. one morning it’s “sunbeam,” the next it’s “sweet star,” then suddenly “my favorite lab assistant” even though you’ve never stepped foot near her experiments.
# forgets dates sometimes because she’s so absorbed in titan research. when she realizes, she panics immediately. like full sprint through headquarters, hair messy, glasses crooked, papers still in her hands. she bursts into the room already apologizing. when you ignore her she goes full drama mode, dropping to her knees like she’s been mortally wounded. “munchkin, i'm sorry!!! don’t exile me from your love!!!” she’ll spend the next few days doing literally anything to get you to forgive her. bringing you tea, sneaking sweets, clinging to you like a sad puppy.
# is the biggest ragebaiter on paradis island when it comes to you!! asks the most ridiculous questions just to see your reactions. “if titans could marry people do you think they'd propose with a finger or the whole hand?” she watches your face light up with annoyance like it’s the most fascinating thing she’s ever studied.
# gets really nervous when you’re mad at her but secretly also thinks you’re so hot when you’re worked up. like she’ll be apologizing while also thinking wow yeah that's my girlfriend..
# hates when the others tease her about you. when someone makes a comment, she'd just immediately goes “shut up.” and walks away with bright red ears.
# biggest softie ever in private. loves cuddles more than she’ll ever admit out loud. she’s always the small spoon, arms wrapped around you while she talks about whatever random thought pops into her head at 2am.
# absolutely adores when you wash her hair for her. before she met you, she was so busy with experiments that she’d forget basic things like that sometimes. her hair used to be greasy half the time 😭😭 (this is canon btw) because she’d just push it off for “later.” but now you’re the one who drags her to sit down and washes it for her properly. she melts every time, eyes closed, leaning into your hands like a very content cat. sometimes she’ll mumble sleepy little thank yous while you rinse the soap out.
# loves it when you show even the tiniest bit of interest in her titan research. if you ask one question she will talk for HOURS, eyes shining like a kid who just got their favorite toy just like back when you still weren’t dating. she once managed to keep you up until dawn rambling about titan experiments, even though everyone had warned you not to ask her about it.
# will randomly grab your hand mid-conversation because she just likes feeling that you’re there. sometimes she doesn’t even notice she’s doing it.
# constantly forgets to take care of herself (skipping meals, staying up all night working) but listens immediately if you tell her to rest. like the moment you say “hange, go to sleep,” she just sighs and dramatically collapses beside you.
# once tried to measure your heartbeat while you were cuddling and got distracted halfway through because she started thinking about how warm you were.
# she drag you one time to watch her experiments because she genuinely thinks you find them fascinating. she gets way too excited explaining things while you’re just standing there like “hange… that titan is literally screaming.”
# gets weirdly competitive when it comes to who loves who more. if you say “i love you” she’ll immediately go “well i love you more actually.” and if you argue back she starts listing evidence like she’s presenting a case.
# when she’s stressed she gets quieter than usual and ends up seeking you out without even realizing it. she’ll just sit next to you, lean her head on your shoulder, and suddenly she’s calmer.
# absolutely lights up when you laugh at her jokes. then she’ll keep repeating the joke or making new ones just to hear that sound again.
# when she’s reading or writing reports she absently leans against you. sometimes her head ends up in your lap and she doesn’t even notice until you start playing with her hair.
# when she’s half-asleep she gets veryyyy very clingy, arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in your shoulder, mumbling nonsense while refusing to let go.
# loves the fact that you’re someone she can be completely ridiculous around without being judged. she already acts wild with everyone, but with you she lets herself be even softer.
# sometimes forgets personal space exists. she’ll lean way too close while talking, push her glasses up with your finger instead of her own, or casually rest her head on you mid-conversation like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
# if someone ever flirts with you in front of her, she doesn’t get jealous in a dramatic way. she just casually slides an arm around your shoulders and starts talking way too enthusiastically about titan anatomy until the person leaves.
# if you ever get hurt during a mission she becomes terrifyingly serious. the usual chaos disappears instantly while she’s checking you over, hands careful but quick.
# but the moment she realizes you’re okay she goes right back to dramatic mode. “don’t ever scare me like that again!! my heart almost exploded!!”
# will occasionally talk about you to the titans she’s studying. you’ll overhear her saying something like “you see that soldier over there? that’s my favorite human actually.”
# sometimes she studies your face the same way she studies titan behavior. when you ask what she’s doing she just says “observing. you’re my favorite subject.”
summary: having a puppy crush on one of your regulars is definitely not for the weak. you learned that the hard way when you catch hange zoë, the tall and attractive scientist, together with a pretty blonde the same day you planned on asking them out.
pairing: scientist!hange zoë x fem!barista!reader
tags: 18+ MDNI / workplace breakdowns / mikasa saves the day / slightly jealous!hange / mild angst / reader talks to herself / thigh riding / messy make-outs / afab hange / voyeurism / light dirty talk / levi and onyankopon appearance! / hange & reader r both horny asf! / praising / oversplaining hange and reader / titplay / wc: 9,939
part one
"You did what?"
If only your mother was right there to judge Mikasa's disappointed-mother look, she would've given Mikasa five gold stars. From the wide stretch of her eyes to the shock and disbelief dripping from her voice.
You bend over the bar counter, pressing your forehead to your arms which you had stacked on top of the smooth wooden surface. You couldn't look into your part-timers' eyes for any longer than you did. It made you feel like a teenager again, confessing to them how you just kissed one of your cafe regulars—your long-time puppy crush; the one in love with a pretty blond—on the cheek after a supposed friendly date.
Mikasa's definitely disappointed. She would've been happy for you if not for the information previously shared that Hange is in a relationship. Connie's confused but definitely amazed at your sheer audacity. He was the only one that offered you a consoling fist-bump anyways.
You don't think Sasha would have much reaction to this news of yours. She would definitely be happy for you no questions asked, probably suggest a restaurant you and Hange could dine in. That sweet, innocent girl. Unfortunately she’s not clocking in for the morning rush.
"Look—I didn't plan on kissing them on the cheek," you say, tilting your head so your cheek rests on the skin of your arm. "It was like... I don't know—just happened in the heat of the moment?" Your voice came out mumbled and soft, like a child about to get scolded for doing something stupid yet awfully pleasant.
"In the—"
"What did they say after?" Mikasa butts in, leaving Connie to glare at her for cutting him off the third time that morning. "Did they push you away or anything?"
The grey-haired semi-shaved man rolls his eyes, "Better yet, how'd you get to kiss them? Aren't they freakishly tall?"
You stand back up, leaning your hip to the counter as you cross your arms. Your bottom lip slips in between your teeth. "They... well, they bended down for me."
"And?" Miche prompts, appearing from the backroom.
"I was ready to apologize and run away but... y'know, they, uhh—they kissed me back." You turn your head away fast, receiving that loud, baffled, disbelieved yell of What?! from all three employees of the cafe.
"You're joking."
"Didn't you say they have a girlfriend?"
"Ha! Nice one.”
The three of them had their own respective reactions. Miche being the one to pat you on the back like a close friend, eyes wrinkled up at the end.
Mikasa comes closer to you, taking a worried sip of her coffee, “Boss, are you sure?”
“Yes, Mikasa, I’m sure they pulled me to them and kissed me for–what, like five minutes straight. Believe it or not, some people do want to kiss me.”
Your voice came out way more aggressive than you had intended to. It was definitely the lack of sleep from thinking about this whole ordeal the entire night. You and your pint of double dutch ice cream–that was now long gone in the dumpster–getting it on with a fresh episode of Scandal playing in the background.
“Fuck… I’m sorry, Mika’ I didn’t mean to sound that way. I’m such a fucking asshole.” You throw your arms around her shoulders, voice softening apologetically.
She rubs your back consolingly. The cautiousness in her words and the way she spoke your name now clear. “It’s okay, I understand you.” You pull away from her and search her face. “I promise, boss. I took no offense.”
“I don’t understand what’s the big fuss over this,” Miche pops his hips out, his hands stacked on top of the mop. “Was there something going on between you two?”
That very question has you slapping your palm to your forehead.
God–of course, Miche knows about this little crush of yours.
He knows you find Hange very fucking attractive, he knows you daydream about them during work; what he definitely doesn’t know, though, was how you have already planned your future with Hange.
If he knew, Miche would’ve talked some sense into you right then and there.
There’s a reason he’s married, you know.
“There wasn’t going on between us,” you answer him, albeit against your will.
He claps his hands together, “Oh, then nice. They kissed you back,” you, Mikasa, and Connie looked at him with a singular seriously? expression. One that has his nose scrunching just slightly. “What?”
“Hange has a girlfriend, Miche,” Connie says awkwardly, his hand moving up to scratch the back of his head.
“Oh.”
At that very moment, you wished–with all of your lucky stars–that the wooden panels under your feet give out and just swallow you into nothingness.
They don’t, unfortunately.
“That’s bad,” Miche recovers after a few seconds of Connie’s dumbstruck stare. Not really helping. “Yeah, it is pretty fucking bad,” he repeats, your name leaving his mouth like a disappointed brother. “Y’think they’re gonna tell their girlfriend about it or no…?”
Fuck. He’s right.
What if Hange tells their girlfriend about you kissing them on the cheek and she comes down the shop–and fucking slaps you clean across your face?
What if Hange witnesses that and says nothing? Not even a simple explanation, or accountability at least for pulling you in and kissing you back!
God, the mere thought of it aggravates you. So much so that you’re thinking about how hard it’d be to burn a science laboratory without burning the entire building down. Not much, probably? Or maybe if I just don’t hit the–
“Boss? You there?” Connie’s voice infiltrates your ears. His eyes mold into wide innocent circles as he waves his arm, hoping to snap you out of it. “We’re opening in thirty minutes…”
You take one deep breath in. Three pairs of eyes look at you curiously, watching you with patience as they wait for your word. You tilt your head up, stretching your lips into a tight smile, nodding encouragingly. “Let’s do this then. Just another day at the cafe, right?”
“Right!” Connie and Mikasa reply back with the same enthusiasm you had. Overshadowing Miche’s already-tired “Yes boss.”
They immediately disperse into their respective stations.
Mikasa’s back on the cashier, Miche’s brewing his second mug of coffee while Connie double-checks with him the stocks of milk, syrups, equipment, and other necessary things they’d neatly organized earlier that morning. You go around the empty cafe, making sure each table’s clean and the chairs’ aligned.
It was quite an easy morning pre-opening prep for you considering that there were a lot of you there. Whenever schedules were tough, you usually only had yourself and Miche managing the cafe; you manned the cashier while Miche made the orders, as per usual.
You walk over to the glass doors. The beat of your heart loud against your chest as you search for their face amongst the prim and proper working men and women standing outside the cafe, waiting patiently for you to flip that closed sign to open.
Who were you kidding though–you’re not going to find Hange within those prim and proper people.
They’d always be messy; their hair all over the place, top wrinkled, one leghole of their pants usually tucked inside of their shoe. You honestly don’t understand why, though you usually chalk it up to them not really being a morning person. Nevertheless, you loved that about them. So raw, so authentic, so… them.
If only they didn’t have a girlfriend then maybe you’d have a gazillion butterflies inside your stomach right now and not that headache-inducing guilt currently in it right now.
The moment you flip the sign and pull open the glass door, your lips easily stretch on a warm smile as a choir of good mornings fill your ear.
In no more than ten minutes, the second cashier–the one you now operated–is now open to accommodate the unbelievable number of customers. Both Miche and Connie work double-time, calling out orders and smoothly working around each other in completing the drinks. They were just as efficient as you and Mikasa with the registers.
You recognize a few of the other regulars as they come by. The elderly man who usually orders a cup of steaming hot black coffee and a hearty lemon blueberry cheese danish muffin to bring home for his wife; the platinum-haired yoga-set-wearing woman that always always buys a medium spiced dirty chai; the college student with a weirdly thick bowl-cut who orders a spanish latte with extra cream foam on top. The list, clearly, can go on for a while.
However, the only regular you’ve been hoping–dreading–to see is yet to appear.
“Seen them yet?” Mikasa asks quietly, slender fingers tapping on the screen.
You shake your head, “Not yet. How many customers you got?”
“I’ve ten already… there’s five more on my line I think–give it a second then you can tap your card on it,” Mikasa’s eyes disappear into crescents as she flashes a sweet smile at the posh-looking man in front of her.
He smiles at her, following as she’d instructed. The message of a five-dollar tip appears on her screen. “Thank you so much! Your name’ll be called to the side.” She hands him his receipt before giggling with you.
“Hi. One large black tea, please. Hot. To-go.”
Gently, your gaze lifts to find a rather familiar face.
Medium height, black hair, sunken eyes, a no-nonsense look… You definitely remember a face like that from–right!
He was the one pushing Hange away from you!
The one that–
“If you’re looking for Hange, they’re not with me,” he speaks up again, that same monotonous voice you could remember from yesterday. You try to stammer out a response, somewhat caught off-guard at how direct he was, only he beats you to it, “They don’t have a teaching class today at the university. So, I’m not quite sure where four-eyes is.”
Some kind of sound escapes you, something like a laugh that sounds more like a choking hog. “Oh… that’s, uh, that’s unfortunate.” He huffs subtly, though his features maintain that stoicness. Still, you try to act unbothered, plastering on a smile. “Name please?”
“Levi,” he answers, gently tapping his card on the terminal.
You cap your marker back, “Great! You can wait at the side, Levi.”
He watches your every move. The way you quickly step to the side to put his cup along the line of cups waiting by the bar. You’d hoped that he’d not be in front of you by the time you got back but he still is. Unfortunately.
“Hange does have work in the laboratory though so there’s that.”
You freeze. Their name is almost like a trigger word for you, and this guy probably knows that too because there’s that very, very slight raise on the corner of their mouth. Tightening that same smile on your lips, you nod at him, “Y’know what, I’ll have your tea rushed, Levi. Give me a sec.”
“Perfect.”
The morning rush had passed, lunch time blasted through quickly, the after-work drinks and refreshments were drained and even still, your tall, brunette scientist is nowhere to be found.
You’d let Miche manage the closing shifts while you zeroed out the register and double-checked the receipts.
Yes, you had asked Mikasa to keep the second copy of all the receipts for the day just so you could check each and every one for a large hazelnut latte, or a decaffeinated cookie butter latte with extra salted caramel cold foam.
Admittedly that was a bit extreme even for you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that maybe you just didn’t see them. Maybe they did come by but you were out back or on a break, or maybe you were busy talking to some suppliers on the phone–who cares, the conclusion is Hange never did come by.
That in itself is both a good and a bad thing. Good because at least you don’t have to worry about what to say to them regarding that situation, and at least you finally now have something to push you to get rid of this happy crush you have of them. Bad because what do you mean they broke their three-month streak of going to the cafe everyday just because of what happened between the two of you.
That was three months of them going to the cafe and ordering a hazelnut latte–or cookie butter latte, three months of them receiving a cup with your special note slash pick-up line and the one time you decided to stop writing those they decided they should file a damn complaint.
God, this was driving you insane. Actually insane. Top grade insanity.
You don’t know what to do–what to fix in your brain. Is this entire thing a good thing or a bad thing? It can’t be both.
It’s a brand new day now, one you specifically prayed to be a more forgiving day for you, one you set a goal on. That goal being Do Not Think About Hange Zoë.
You swear, just reach that goal and all good things will soon follow. You might even manage to finally find somebody attractive after months of blocking away flirty, good looking customers because of this infatuation you had with the scientist.
Right.
Maybe you just need a fling to remedy this broken heart you willingly inflicted upon yourself.
Maybe you do.
“Hey, you seem really familiar.”
A man, one with chocolate skin and a well-kept buzz cut, stands by your table with a tray holding a plate of pastries and one cup of coffee. He had a friendly smile on his face, a rather light and bouncy aura radiating off of him. You stare at him curiously, unashamedly eyeing him from head to toe as you think of his words; he did seem quite familiar, though you can’t quite pinpoint from where you’ve seen him.
Honestly, with the amount of faces you see each day, it would be a really big surprise if you actually do remember him.
Before you get to rack your brain of possibilities, he laughs as an introduction, “My name’s Onyankopon. I’d say I’m a regular here but seeing as you can’t remember me…” you stifle an embarrassed sound when he trails off, the two of you sharing the same sentiment. “May I sit? Only if you’re not busy.”
He introduces himself again. This time, he offers his hand to you, careful not to graze your laptop. You reply back with your name, shaking his hand, letting him lead the conversation. Still somewhat curious on how you seemed familiar to him.
“Are you sure you’re not busy? I can throw myself to a vacant table if I’m bothering you, I promise,” Onyankopon asks, tone careful but still with a hint of playfulness.
Yes, I’m fucking busy. One side of your brain argues. The other side sways you, C’mon… It's not everyday a cute guy approaches you. At least not that respectfully!
Unfortunately for the former side, not only does the latter have a good point, but it's also a pretty good way to achieve your goal. Hence, you do your best to appear as approachable as you could. Folding down the screen of your laptop just a tiiiny bit for emphasis. “No, it’s fine! I think I do need your company, Onyankopon.”
“Really?” His eyebrows shoot up.
You nod, licking your lips subtly, “Mhm… work’s boring me to death anyway.”
“Well then, lucky for you I am excellent company,” your name rolls off of his lips and you immediately feel like you want to crawl into a hole and live out the rest of your days in there.
It’s exactly nothing like the way Hange says your name. His voice is gentle, a little deeper than Hange’s, but it lacks that warmth and playfulness Hange usually has when they call your name. Not like they always do call your name, most times they call you boss, mimicking the way your employees ever so casually call you. When they do that, you could only roll your eyes at them to hide that giddy feeling blooming inside you. They, in response, grin even wider.
The memories of your spontaneous not-date with them float in your mind. Their musky cologne, their comically big khaki-colored trenchcoat. The way they subtly switch sides with you every time on the sidewalks, on crossings, making sure they’re at the riskier side while you're tucked in beside them.
You mentally shake yourself because you should not be thinking about redacted right now.
There’s a man in front of you right now. There’s someone other than redacted that is speaking to you, most probably interested in you too–so you should pay attention to him, not them.
Fortunately, Onyankopon doesn't notice the moment you get your mind back into your present conversation with him. You nod your head pretentiously, doing your best to connect his words and figure out what the original topic of the conversation was. After some time and dissecting implications, you conclude he’s talking about the first time he discovered your cafe.
Speaking with him is easy. He’s a lot more playful than Hange is, his words are a lot more colorful and descriptive too. He has his own creative way of describing things that you find yourself wondering if he’s taking an artsy or a philosophical course–or maybe he’s teaching?
“I teach cross-cultural communications over at the University of Paradis,” Onyankopon answers when you ask. “Do you study there too? You mentioned taking courses earlier.”
You take a sip of your beverage, humming, “I don’t, actually. I study at a public university.”
“Shiganshina State U?” He guesses.
“Bingo,” you wink at him. “Business degree.”
He wows at you, curiosity dancing in his eyes, “Business degree, huh? Explains why the cafe’s as pretty as you are.”
“Oh please, that’s a pretty lame excuse to call me pretty, professor.”
“Ah, you caught me,” Onyankopon admits, chuckling lightly. His gaze held yours meaningfully, willing you to wait for his next few words, only he’s cut short by an abrupt presence at your table.
You don’t see the person immediately, instead you feel that looming, somewhat impending sense of doom from behind you. A heavier aura, one that felt like a thick blanket weighing on top of your shoulders. It was a rather new feeling for you considering how you’re so used to always feeling light and relaxed when in the shop even during crowdier times.
The presence clearly disturbs your companion as well because he’s shifting his attention from you to someone or–something–above you.
“Oh–Doctor! Didn’t notice you there,” Onyankopon pulls back from his seat out of surprise, clearing his throat while he extends his arm out to the side.
Doctor?
From the very corner of your eye, you notice two distinct pieces of clothing: a dark green vest and a white coat. And right as you’re able to fully turn your head to the side, before you manage to put a face on that body, you hear their voice first.
“Onyankopon!”
It’s Hange.
Of course, it’s fucking Hange.
“I didn’t expect to see you here… especially not with somebody,” their attention shifts to you, brown eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite distinguish. Their lip quirks upward at one side, noticing the sudden stiffness in your posture.
It was like a deer in headlights. You are like a deer in headlights. Your spine straight like a post, lips taut and suddenly dry, eyes unusually stuck open. You could feel the fight-or-flight instinct inside of you threatening to activate. Not really used to being put on the spot just like this. Most times you’re the one putting people on the spot, not the other way around!
They call your name, not boss, that cheeky smile on their lips revealing their awfully attractive sharp canine teeth. “Didn’t expect you to know my buddy Onyankopon here.”
“I… You two’re–” you resign from the conversation quickly. Happily letting Onyankopon save your lousy attempt at answering. “Oh–I’m just keeping the lovely owner here company, Doc. She looked pretty gloomy on such a sunny day out.”
A genuine scoff escapes you before you even thought about it, “Gloomy? That is not what you were saying earlier.” Before you know it, both Onyankopon and Hange are on the pair of chairs in front of you. The former made enough room for the latter so now you sat faced with them instead of him.
“Ha-ha! Onyankopon, ever the jokester. You gotta excuse him, boss,” Hange tells you, placing their arm on Onyankopon’s shoulder. You watch the expression on his face, the cautious gaze he looks at you and Hange with. Unknowingly, you mirror the cautiousness with your own. “He doesn’t usually go to coffee shops often, y’know? Very, ah, busy with classes… such a hardworking professor,” they look at him, scrunching their nose, obnoxious laughter following right after. “Next time you should just let me know your order! I can bring you your coffee so as to save you the trip.”
You exhale through your nose. This is not part of your plan. You didn’t even think about this possible scenario among the list of possible ones you imagined during your fifteen-minute morning meditation.
“I believe I’m needed at the bar,” you rise from your seat, pushing down your laptop and holding it with one arm. “Enjoy your–”
“Great!” Hange also rises, brows shooting upwards, eyes glittering. They notice the volume of their voice so their next words come out a lot quieter and shyer, “I mean, ah–great! I haven’t, y’know, ordered yet so I’ll walk you to the bar.”
You stare at them, carefully picking out your words. One side of you screams to be bitchy and distant so as to not repeat that situation that night, meanwhile the other side is practically beaming with joy because Hange, your long-time cafe regular and happy crush who you happened to have made out with, is in front of you.
“No need, it’s just right there,” you tell them.
“It’s fine! Let me carry your stuff–uhm, tray I mean. Don’t worry about it,” they respond, extending out their hands for you.
You shake your head, “It’s okay, Doc, I swear. I can carry these back.”
“You sure? I can carry ‘em for you. There’s a lot of people walking around, someone might crash into you and your stuff's gonna fall and the glass it’ll fall and break and I don’t–” they pause, blinking for two beats before shaking their head and straightening their posture. Their hand coming up to scratch the back of their head, eyes disappearing as they smile embarrassedly. “I’m sorry, I was rambling.”
“It’s fine,” you flash them a civil smile, “Have a nice day, you two.”
Your nervous system is going on a rampage the moment you enter the backroom. That breath you’ve been unknowingly holding in only released then. You went around the medium-sized space, fanning yourself like a woman that had just ran a five-kilometer marathon.
“What the fuck was that!” You tell the mirror, squealing out childishly, “They’re insane! They’re actually insane! Why the fuck are they speaking to me like nothing happened?” Your voice raises, the image staring back at you in the mirror looking more and more crazy with every second passing by. “They have a girlfriend! They cheated on their girlfriend by making out with me… I made out with someone that has a girlfriend! I’m a cheater–oh my god, am I–no, I’m the third party!”
The fact that you’re talking to the bathroom mirror about it is not the craziest thing about this whole thing, it’s the fact that you willingly kissed Hange back that night knowing that they have a girlfriend.
Hell, you should’ve never even agreed to go to their workplace–at night too, mind you–in the first place!
“If you want to forget about it, fine! I’ll forget about it. I will not speak about it ever again. I won’t even tell Sasha about it! I’ll forget you, Hange, and I’ll forget about this stupid fucking crush I have.” You run both of your hands down your face, taking in deep breaths.
Honestly, who cares now. Just pretend it never happened. New day, new you. No one has to know what–
“Hey boss, I don’t really know what’s goin’ on with you in there but Mikasa says she really needs to pee,” Connie knocks twice on the bathroom door. “Hange’s not in the cafe anymore if you’re worried about that.”
You pull open the door, facing your part-timer with a stiff smile.
“You look scary,” he blurts out.
“I hate you,” you sigh, shaking your head tiredly but following him out nonetheless.
The moment Mikasa sees you, she’s dropping the empty cup she was supposed to be doing, rushing past you while muttering, “Thank gosh.” You take her spot at the cashier, apologizing to the customer for the sudden interruption before taking their order.
The noontime rush had slowly gone down. There were a lot more tables available now, a lot less cups that need making. Connie’s on a quick bussing duty around the cafe while Miche finishes up the remaining orders. You don’t notice how fast the coffees are made too. At first glance there’s a good five people circling the dispatch bar, then at the second glance there’s no one left.
After the third consecutive customer, you glance to the side to check if Mikasa’s out already. Seeing as she isn’t, you turn back to the front, chiming your usual spiel: “Hey, how are you? What can I get for you today?”
They returned the first question out of courtesy, voice so gentle that it felt like a hug. Then, they list out three separate coffee drinks, two salad bowls to-go, and one berry refresher, making sure each order is carefully noted. “Will that be all?”
“Yes, please,” they hold up their card.
“Can I have a name for the order?”
Before they can answer, their phone rings. Thankfully they answer your question, “Pieck, please. Thank you so much, darling,” putting the phone to their ear right after. You hand her the receipt, gesturing to the side. She takes it and nods, a melancholic voice floating in the air as you unintentionally listen to the conversation.
Not your fault you were left at the counter!
“I’ve already ordered, stupid. You took too long!” She says, “Just get here quickly. There’s no line anyway, we can wait for you two here.”
You couldn’t really make out whatever it is she was arguing about with the person on the phone. Nevertheless, you move over to the bar and help Miche out with the three-drink order.
You press the button on the espresso machine, waiting patiently with your arm propped against the polished wood. It doesn’t even finish brewing when Miche’s already nudging your shoulder back to the cashier.
“Mikasa’s not back yet?” You side-eye him, nudging him back roughly.
“Nope,” he responds, “Counter’s empty. There’s a customer.”
A gruff sigh leaves your lips, quickly replacing the droop of your shoulders with a straight back and a welcoming tone. “Hey! What can I get for you–oh, already?” your tone drops just as fast your smile did. The words you so routinely speak now are lost in that jungle-like mind of yours as you stand face-to-face with Hange for the second time.
They breathe your name out, their entire body relaxing as if they were relieved to see you. “You’re on counter duty, I see…” You don’t respond to them. Not because you were being petty, but because you genuinely didn’t know how to respond to that awkward, awkward statement.
You can’t just say–Oh, yeah, Mikasa’s taking a shit so I’m taking over right now–could you?
Of course not… unless you want Mikasa to kill you while you sleep.
“Can I have your order, Doc?” You ask neatly, knowingly grabbing the tall cup for them.
No–wait, it’s mid-day. It’s the second time they’re here so they’ll get the cookie–
“It’s my first coffee of the day,” Hange cuts off your thought, stopping you from exchanging the tall cup with a medium-sized one usually reserved for their second coffee. “I didn’t buy one earlier–I, uh, well, I was hoping to talk to you after Onyankopon but you kind of ran away.”
Well, obviously! You two made out like hooligans in the middle of a sidewalk knowing full well one of you is in a relationship.
You look at their face, noticing the knitted brows and pursed lips. Their slender fingers tangled with each other as they rested on top of the POS. On the side of their head, you notice a head full of blonde hair come through those glass doors. The very moment they step a foot inside the shop, their second-long glance at the cashier before walking to the side where the woman named Pieck was, you feel your heart stop.
Hange’s girlfriend. The girlfriend. Is. Here.
And you’re with her partner at the counter still playing this weird game of are-they or are-they-not?
“I think, uh, y’know–” you pause, taking a second to gather your thoughts. You look up and lock eyes with Hange, looking away fast, your heartbeat quickens, “Whatever happened the other night, whatever we did… I think it’s best to just forget about it.” You take every bit of courage you have inside you and look at them dead in their eyes, watching the way their features up.
Their lips part only for it to close again. The thoughts evidently run through their head, so clear with the shock swimming in their brown irises.
Is it abrupt? Shouldn’t you have brought it up? Are you in the wrong? Fuck–should you apologize?
“Look, I didn’t mean to–”
Hange interjects, loud and awfully cheery, “No, it’s fine! I understand,” they push out a laugh, one that was just as practiced as the last laugh they did when the two of you were with Onyankopon. “I definitely pushed the, uhm, limits. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry, I really am. I’ll forget about it like you said.”
Great, now you’re fucking guilty.
They order two drinks, a hazelnut decaf and a caramel macchiato, both in medium-sized cups. Avoiding your eyes with each word they speak. Out of all the times you’ve taken their order before, or spoken with them in a specifically fortunate moment, this was the only time you witnessed them being wary in speaking.
You write their name on both cups, muttering a simple thank you as they pay with their card, sliding the pending orders over to the bar. Since Miche was finishing up the one you were doing before, you help him out by making Hange’s order.
While the machine whirs quietly, a slow but continuous flow of freshly brewed coffee filling the clear espresso glass, you stare at the clear plastic cup in ponderance. There was only the word Hange on it. No cheesy pick-up lines, no phone numbers, no drawings. It was just their name, just like how it should’ve been in the very first place.
“You okay, boss?” A soft voice comes up from behind you, nearly making you spill the coffee as you pour it over the ice-filled cup. “You look… Hey–what happened?” Mikasa finishes for herself, slim eyebrows knitting suspiciously.
You sigh, nudging your head towards the dispatch bar. You didn’t need to look at the direction to know that it was Hange and their group standing there, your eyes glued solely to the cup you were busy with. “Me and Hange’ve talked about it already. We’re choosing to forget–”
“I see Hange, their friends… what else should I be seeing?”
Eyes snapping upwards, you follow the direction of Mikasa’s head, confirming what she said; Hange and their friends stand there, slightly apart but still close enough to converse comfortably. Their girlfriend, too, is there, standing beside the woman you remember is called Pieck. Beautiful blue eyes against the warm light of the cafe. Hange was the only one not actively speaking. Their lips were pursed, arms crossed over their chest.
The guilt is way stronger than you’d like it to be. Still, you swallow down that feeling, pulling Mikasa’s arm to get her at whisper-distance. “That blonde over there… the one beside the black-haired lady, that’s Hange’s girlfriend.” You look away, placing the lid on top of the plastic cup. You place the finished order near the other finished ones, glancing at Mikasa to check for her reaction.
The only thing is, she’s not reacting. At least not in the way you wanted.
Mikasa’s frozen in her spot, head tilted and eyes narrowed. She’s staring at the spot you pointed at earlier, as though you had pointed at a ghost somewhere in the cafe. “What–Hange’s girlfriend is in the cafe. She’s here, Hange’s here… I’m here! She wasn’t here when the woman beside her was ordering so clearly miss girlfriend arrived here with Hange because they–”
She says your name, slow and cautious, “That’s not their girlfriend.”
“What’re you talking about–oh great, they’re walking here now.”
You quickly turn around, about to find refuge in the back when someone calls Mikasa’s name. “Mikasa! I’m so happy to see you! I didn’t know you had a shift today.” Halting in your steps, you crane your head back. Your jaw drops as you watch that same blonde you believed to be Hange’s girlfriend, hugging Mikasa over the counter.
Mikasa chuckles, “It’s good to see you too, Armin. You should’ve told me you were coming by, I would’ve saved you a lemon cake slice.” She looks at you over her shoulder. “This is my boss, by the way,” she mentions your name, gesturing towards you as the man named Armin crinkles his blue eyes at you. His hand extends towards you, “Nice to meet you.”
Despite being at a loss for words, you manage to find the energy to extend out your own hand, muttering the same words back to him.
It’s all clicking into place now. Mikasa mentioned her friend being Hange’s TA, that would explain why the girl–Armin, you men–wore the same white lab coat as Hange did. He’s Hange’s TA, of course they’d have the same coat. The two of them probably spend most of their time discussing some scholarly, science-y stuff in the laboratory; That’d explain why Hange arrived with Armin today as well.
Wait, with miss girlfriend being a man… then that means–
Oh.
Oh.
Hange never had a girlfriend in the first place.
For all of your faults, never did you expect to have an assumption so wrong that it gnaws at you even when you drown yourself in coffee crumble ice cream.
Well, you would’ve chosen wine instead of coffee but you’d rather not depend on alcohol. Not when you’re unsure of how long this whole infatuation of yours would last.
There’s an empty bowl of microwave popcorn beside you, the end credits from an episode of your favorite television show rolling on the screen. Your phone’s by the television, locked inside of the drawer under the stand, keeping you from doing–messaging people you should not be messaging in the first place.
Fortunately, that’s where your laptop comes into place.
Your chat box with the tall, attractive, not-in-a-relationship scientist is open on the screen. Hange’s last message to you – Thank you for acting interested in the tour. LOL just kidding! I hope you enjoyed it… I did! I really did. :) – has been on the LCD for god knows how long. Every time you glance at the computer, you’re once more reminded of your stupidity.
This, all of this, is just a series of very unfortunate events that you, unluckily, had to experience.
From you spending months watching them from afar, to assuming they had a girlfriend when there were no indications of that in the first place, to telling them to forget about the night and not even bothering to let them explain!
Now that Mikasa’s confirmed that the mystery blonde lady is actually just Armin Arlert, her childhood friend, who happens to be studying marine biology in the same university Hange’s teaching in, the guilt you were feeling earlier has now doubled–maybe even tripled–in effect.
You stand up from your couch, quickly pressing the center button of your remote to play the next episode as some sort of entertainment to keep your other personalities occupied. You pace around your apartment; lying down on your bed to look at the ceiling for ten minutes, moving to your small kitchenette with a chair to stare out the window. The bathroom’s not even a safe place. You sit on the floor of your shower with nothing but a scented candle burning at the counter, the sweet smell of cookie butter hanging in the air.
“Y’know what, this could’ve been a lot easier if I took a photo of that blonde and sent it to the group chat the first time I saw them,” you say to no one in particular, picking at the skin of your lips. You let out a loud passive-aggressive scoff, clapping your hands together. “God, had I known Mikasa’s the key–I would’ve offered a full-time part!”
You drop your back on the tiled wall, “So fucking stupid. Really.”
You spend a moment alone in the peaceful, cookie-smelling, bathroom. Trying to concentrate on your own thoughts, hoping you’d find one–among the hundreds of things you’re overthinking–that would give you a logical, normal person’s way of getting over this crush.
One specific thought gets you up from the floor and back out to the living room. You grab your laptop, dropping yourself on your desk chair as you pull up the remaining case studies you’ve pushed off for days now. If you can’t tire yourself out with food and television shows, then maybe some good ole academic workload would do the trick.
That worked for the most part. You’ve finished the two case studies that only needed any revisions. You spent, maybe, an hour at most. By the time you’ve closed the second document tab, Hange’s back in their usual spot in your mind. The image of their smile and wrinkled-up eyes during that night appearing everywhere you look. You write a little note for yourself, dates on when to submit your case studies.
Well, a locked drawer’s not really something to worry about. Especially not when you’re the one holding the key to unlock it.
So there you are, at the fire escape of your apartment building, the window to your bedroom left wide open.
You had your blanket draped over your lap, that and Hange Zoë’s contact number ready for dial as you looked through their mess of a LinkedIn profile–which, honestly, you should’ve done earlier because they’re connected to Armin Arlert. You could’ve avoided the whole teenage drama if you’d just ran through their profile the first time you saw the two of them together.
The transparent call button on your phone looks more appealing by the second. The thought of possibly hearing their voice call for your name again persuaded you all the more.
Fuck it, you thought to yourself. I need to talk to them.
So you click the call button with your eyes closed and fingers crossed.
All it took then were two rings for them to answer. Their voice ragged and breathy as they speak your name in a way only they ever could.
“Hange, hey, look, about earlier… I wanted to–”
“Let me stop you right there,” they interject, nearly making your heart stop as well, “Look down.”
You can’t describe or put an exact name to the feeling coming over you but the hairs on your body stand up, goosebumps rising.
Slowly, you tilt your head down, heart beating faster with each fleeting moment.
“Hange?”
The familiar scientist right under the fire escape waves a hand at you, the widest smile sprawled against their face. “Would you believe me if I said I was on my way home?” Their head was tilted upwards, phone to their ear.
“You? In the same neighborhood?” You scoff, leaning your shoulder on the rails, keeping your eyes set on the scientist underneath. Hange shrugs, the smile still not leaving their face. They seemed to be waiting for something, or for you, probably.
Then, you remember how devastated they had looked earlier. The sullen eyes, the pursed lips. Guilt suddenly claws at your insides, eating your mind whole.
Be mature about it, you remind yourself.
“Hey Hange?” Your voice quiets down.
The smile on their lips shrink, eyes narrowing behind those rectangular glasses.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” you say with a heavy sigh, “I… It’s really complicated. I’m complicated. I really shouldn’t have just dismissed you like that, not when—y’know, something happened.”
The line goes silent for the moment. Both of you watching each other from way different angles, the quiet night seemingly freezing for that moment alone.
You see the deep contemplation on their features. The way they nibble at their bottom lip and tap the end of their left feet on the sidewalk. They weren’t looking around for anybody else. They didn’t even seem to care about it.
“Do you want to get ice cream?” Hange offers as a reply.
At 1:17 AM, why the fuck not.
With Hange still wearing their lab clothing—butter yellow button top with sleeves rolled to their elbows, khaki-colored pants—you felt way too underdressed with your band shirt and plaid shorts.
“Overtime at the lab?” You open up.
“Kind of like that…” they answer gently, words drifting off as they stare wordlessly at you. “Had to discuss a few findings anyways. The coffee you made really woke me up.”
“I doubt it’s the coffee.”
“Oh,” Hange looks away, smiling at the poker-faced ice cream man as he hands over two ice cream cups. They turn back to you, offering the coffee crumble with that toothy grin you adored, “Peace offering then?”
You take your bottom lip in between your teeth, feeling all the more apologetic at how Hange’s the one giving a peace offering when it was you that stopped them from explaining earlier.
Taking the cup from their hands, you blurt it out, “Hange, I’m sorry.”
“Ah… the—”
“I know I said we should forget about it but, actually, the only reason I said that is because I thought you had a girlfriend… and! Wait, before you cut me off, I know it was wrong of me to give you a kiss on the cheek that time especially thinking you had a girlfriend already but I just—well, I can’t really apologize for myself because I liked it, and I’ll take accountability for it,” you inhale, feeling the red hue coming back up on your face as Hange stared at you dumbfounded.
“I thought the peck would’ve been the end of it and I would’ve apologized right after but then you kissed me back! Sure, I liked it—I loved it actually—but the thought of you having a girlfriend at that time shook me to my core and I wanted so badly to clear it up but then I saw you and the blonde one—“
Hange interjects this time, “The blonde one—Armin?”
“Yes! God, this feels so good to get off my chest,” you exclaim, taking a big spoonful of the ice cream, letting your shoulders sag out of relief. “I was… I was so worried about kissing you while you had a girlfriend, you know? I thought you’d sell me out and she’d come to the cafe and slap me or what.”
The long monologue finally comes to a stop as you lean back on your seat, looking for any semblance of a reaction on their face.
Fortunately, Hange’s just as transparent as you are. Though you couldn’t really fully say that the growing smile on their face is one that says you are so dumb or you’re so fucking pretty let me kiss you again.
“Aren’t you gonna say something?” You say impatiently.
Hange’s doesn’t say anything. They don’t do anything—in fact, the only thing they do for the next five minutes is stare at you with amusement in their eyes.
You’ve finished your coffee crumble ice cream by the time they do decide to move.
Their very first words have you short-circuiting again.
“I kissed you that night because I like you.”
You blink at them. Speechless.
“I really didn’t want it to be this emotional or sappy, but I really do like you,” they repeat. Their voice soft and gentle. “I know it didn’t seem like that but I was just too shy to tell you it upfront. Every time you’d write a line on my cup, or wish me a good day, I’d remember it until the next time I stand in line for coffee again.”
“That’s why when you didn’t write on my cup… I kind of… I kind of spiraled that day.”
“Spiraled?”
“I spent a whole fourty-eight hours at the lab. I didn’t go home until Armin dragged me out. Luckily I didn’t have a class at uni that day so…”
“Oh the—no wait… I think that’s a different day though…”
Hange furrows their brows, slightly puzzled, “What do you mean?”
“Levi! They were with you that time you talked to me about your cup.”
“Oh, him?” Their eyes crinkle upwards and you feel your heart leap. They’re so fucking pretty. “He doesn’t drink coffee, so I’m guessing he ordered black tea,” you nod at them wordlessly, still partly in a trance. “He probably said something to have it rushed too.”
The two of you share a laugh at how accurate Hange’s assumptions were. They began to tell stories of how they and Levi met at the university. How Levi didn’t even like them in the first place because of how loud and talkative they were.
Most times they bicker, while sometimes Levi just lets Hange ramble and disturb them whenever they have no classes in the university. Probably enjoying the sound of somebody being with them. Whenever Levi doesn’t really want to see them, Hange said he’ll hide away in Erwin’s office.
Conversation comes naturally to the two of you. The previous topic of i like you long forgotten as the familiarity seemed to bring you two to a whole ‘nother level of understanding.
They are just as curious as you had imagined.
Favorite book, favorite movie, favorite past time; how the mandela effect phenomenon could possibly be explained by science; how Noah's Ark could realistically be made.
By the time the clock strikes four, just two hours before your cafe opens, Hange’s dropping you off of the front door of your apartment, that familiar look of melancholy on their face.
“Don’t overthink it, I’m just wondering when I’ll get to take you out again,” Hange beats you to it, already knowing the way your mind works.
When you try to hit their shoulder in embarrassment, Hange grabs your wrist and pulls you close… not close enough however. The tips of your noses merely brushing together.
“For the record, I don’t have a girlfriend,” they whisper.
The two of you standing so close to each other that you could feel the heat radiating off of their body. Their breath fanning over your lips. The topic of girlfriend hadn’t come across the conversation since the first time you brought it up.
They press a chaste kiss over your lips, eyes closed and everything. “So don’t feel guilty, okay?”
They let go of your wrist, but you pull them down by the collar of their shirt. Taking their lips in yours, aggressively slipping in your tongue as the moment consumes you. Hange grabs at your sides, grinding your hips to theirs, mumbling incoherent words you swallow so eagerly.
You pull away with lust-blown eyes, the wrecked look on Hange’s face was one you were way too acquainted with.
As if the hours spent wasn’t enough, the two of you lunge at each other again. This time Hange overpowers you as they press you to your door, inhaling your scent, kissing and sucking at the column of your throat.
You fumble with the key in your short’s pockets, turning around hastily as you try to find the correct key all the while a hungry scientist grinds against your ass, head nuzzled at the crook of your neck. Their deep groans send shocks straight to your cunt.
When you finally manage to open the door, the two of you basically make it to the living room before you’re both falling on the carpeted floor with a childish giggle. Your head falling on the cushion that is Hange’s palm.
“Hey!” Your complaint easily transforms into a fit of laughter as the two of you roll around the floor. They keep your head close, hand by your cheek as your tongues tangle together.
When you feel their other hand reach up under your shirt, you feel their lips smile into the kiss. They cup your breast over your bra, teasingly kneading the skin over the soft foam. When a moan manages to squeak out of you, they pull away to take your bottom lip in between their teeth, biting down playfully before pulling their hand away.
The two of you roll over again, this time with you on top of them. Holding onto your waist with slender fingers, pulling their legs up so you had somewhere to lean on when you sat up.
“Don’t you have a class today?” You ask them, tracing the exposed skin by their chest. A sliver of skin shown by the airy linen material.
Hange rolls the two of you one more time, towering over you now, surrounding your space. Their body slotted in between your legs, the pressure from their own core against yours, through the thin fabric of your shorts, had you near delirious. “Meh. No class ‘til three p.m.. Lucky me, huh.” The smug look on their face makes you look away, trying to hide the warmth coloring your face.
They click their tongue at you, gently nudging the side of your face to look back at them. “What about you miss boss-lady? Don't you have a coffee shop opening at six?”
“A coffee shop…” you draw out, jutting out your lips as though contemplating. “Oh–yeah, I remember,” Hange raises both brows at you, their gaze dropping down to your swollen lips. “Good thing I’m the owner.” You let out a laugh, hooking your arms at the back of their neck to take off the hair tie holding up their half-do. Hange grins at you, letting their brunette hair fall down your face as they ravish your lips again.
You cage them in between your legs. The two of you not breaking the kiss even as Hange surprises you by lifting you up from the floor, arms supporting your back. Hange’s blindlessly walking through your living room until they eventually find your couch. They drop down with a loud thump, your knees straddling their thighs.
The two of you pull apart with heavy breaths. You could feel your heart beating even stronger against your chest. Then, at the heat of the moment, you rush to pull off your shirt, throwing it to the side just as Hange takes off their glasses.
You whine, immediately catching their attention. “What is it, boss?”
“Keep the glasses on, doc,” you stop their hands, guiding them to put it back on their face. Hange lets you do so with no problem. “That’s better,” you purr, dipping down and licking a strip of their neck.
“Well, can I take that off?” Hange looks down at your chest, licking their lips.
You nod, Hange expertly unclipping strap with one pinch. Your breasts fall freely, vulnerable to Hange’s gaze.
“Fuck,” they mumble, breathing out your name desperately, “Can—can I touch it, please?”
“Less talking, more touching.” You groan, cupping your chest, teasing your own nipples.
Hange needs nothing else. They replace your hands with theirs, cupping the heavy underside of your tits as you hiss. They squeeze your breasts together, admiring them shamelessly. Eyes filled with hunger.
They lean down, burying their head in between your breasts with a low appreciative groan. Pressing them against their cheek. Hange darts out their tongue, licking a hot strip up the valley of your breasts before latching onto one stiff nipple.
You curse, arching your body against their mouth. Hange sucks even harder. Their cheeks hollow out, tongue swirling deliciously around your nipple, the wet sound painfully loud as you keen and whine.
“A-ah! Hange!” Your hands thread through their brunette hair, pulling harshly when they suddenly bite down on your nipple, soothing it with their tongue. Hange hums contentedly, pulling away to stare at you with hooded eyes, a lewd string of saliva connecting the two.
Their free hand continued kneading your other breast, making sure to not leave one neglected. “You taste so good, pretty girl,” they mumble against your skin, grazing their sharp teeth over your breasts before licking them soothingly.
Hange’s full attention was devoted to your tits. Sucking them, licking them, biting them. They were so engrossed in tasting you that they didn't notice you grinding your core against their thigh. They probably don’t feel the wetness seeping through your thin panties and onto their trousers.
“My mouth makes you feel wet, baby? Does it feel good?”
On second thought, they do.
“Yes, Hange,” you bite your lip, pushing their upper body to lean on the couch. Your hips moving with a mind on their own, desperate to bring you to your own release.
Hange watches you with intrigue, leaning back on the couch even more, their hands keeping themselves busy by massaging and rubbing your tits. “Go on then, boss. Let me see you make yourself come.”
You moan loudly at their words, hips gaining a newfound sense of motivation as you move your body roughly. Grinding your clit against the rough materials, the sensation making you roll your eyes back every time, desperately panting Hange’s name.
Hange bounces their thigh, smirking when they see your lips fall apart helplessly.
“I… Hange, I want—I want,” you don’t finish your words, voice falling to a sharp whine when you feel Hange’s hand—who had previously been on your chest—sneak past your shorts and to your lace panties. They gather both sides of your panties in the middle, giving you something to grind on even more.
“You want what, hmm? Tell me, you’re the boss.”
Words fail you, the pleasure slowly overcoming your body. Your eyes screw shut, incoherent mumbles leaving your lips instead. The knot in your stomach tightens, on the very brink of giving out.
You’ve imagined this scenario many times. You’ve fucked yourself to this very moment too many times to even count. Now that you’re living it, you can’t think of one reason why it took this long for it to happen.
Hange taps your thigh, bringing you back to the present, “Asked you a question, pretty girl.”
What was the question again? Oh, right.
“Want to see you,” you manage to blurt out through the haze of pleasure. A series of please following right after, all slurred and breathy; needing that final push.
You hear Hange’s laugh, but you hear their sharp sigh as well. You open your eyes, jaw dropping as you see Hange’s chest. Their pretty perky breasts are in perfect display, a clean blank canvas waiting for your love-bites. Hange grins, watching your eyes round with greed, already plotting on their body.
They grab the back of your neck, your hair in between their fingers to keep your attention on them, their other hand gripping the meat of your hips, helping you keep your momentum as you finally feel that hot, piercing pleasure shoot through your spine. Your vision exploding in white spots.
Hange quickly sits up to wrap their arms around your trembling body, keeping you close to them. Muttering sweet nothings in that deep, smooth voice of theirs.
“Mhm… you did so well, pretty girl,” they litter kisses all throughout your jaw, running their fingers through your hair, soothing your body from its pulses. “That’s it… ‘m here, don’t worry, baby.”
When your body finally relaxes in their hold, chest finally heaving normally, Hange smiles at you. “Hey.”
“Hey.” You sigh, covering your face suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Hange takes your wrists, pulling them down as they chuckle lightheartedly. “Don’t act shy now, boss,” they say, tilting their head teasingly.
“I didn’t mean to put myself first,” you sigh, letting your body rest against theirs. “It was just… I don’t know—it felt tooo good not to continue.” You slide your hands over their shoulders. Dropping your gaze to the unbuttoned top they wore, you lick your lips unknowingly as you stare at their tits. “I can, y’know, eat you out, doc. Even things out.”
They let you cup their breasts, squeezing them together like they did with yours, pooling together enough saliva before letting it drip down their skin. You keep your eyes locked with theirs as you hold out your tongue, slathering your spit all over their tits.
Hange’s hands tighten around your waist, teeth clenching together.
You bite on the valley of their right tit, sinking in your teeth just enough until you hear them hiss out a cuss. You lick away the pain, already anticipating the purple bruise that’d come out of it a few hours later.
“I think I have a better idea, boss,” Hange grunts, adjusting the two of you on the couch.
You pull away from their tit with a loud pop, spit all over your mouth, “Yeah?”
They hold the side of your face with a pout, looking around your living room before finally seeing what they’re looking for. “Since you have about, what, two hours before opening,” they look back at you, “How about I cook you breakfast then walk you to work?”
The loudest ugh! leaves your lips, humping their abdomen once as though protesting.
“C’mon… It's always busy in the morning! You need the energy!”
“But I haven’t even made you come yet,” you huff out, pulling back their hair. “And I’ve barely even seen you yet. I want to taste you, Hange.”
“Believe me, you will, pretty girl,” they assure you, pulling you in close to kiss you one more time. The simple kiss turning into another heated make-out. “But I gotta put some energy in you first, boss. Can’t have you sleepy around the cafe now can I?”
“Whatever.” You roll your eyes at them, cupping their tits one more time, pressing a wet kiss on each valley before getting off their lap. “You just want free coffee from me.”
“That too,” Hange jests, landing a slap on your ass.
You glare at them, quickly disappearing into your room to grab a tank top. When you get back out, Hange’s waiting for you at the small kitchenette, the buttons of their top still unbuttoned, just as you had silently wanted.
“You hid them away,” Hange furrows their brows, “Not fair.”
You pull the front of your top down, playfully shaking your shoulders. The frown on their face easily turns upside down, eyes brightening at the sight of your tits.
“Breakfast, Hange. You said breakfast,” you hold a palm to their lips when you come to their side, stopping them from bending down and doing something that is definitely not part of cooking breakfast.
“Whatever!”
hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated! if you liked what you read, you could support me here :) xoxo
we, yes WE, want more mizuki content. esp nsfw mizuki content. thank you in advance 🩷
ᥫ᭡ changed my mind
ᯓ★ synopsis mizuki loves making your life harder. especially when he leaves you on the brink just to answer the door.
❀ tags dom mizuki. gn but reader’s on the recieving end (fingering). girl is used but its only cause someone assumed ur gender. condescending mizuki (not rlly degradation its okay guys). bit of jealous n possessive mizuki
divider by saradika-graphics !
“holy shit, don’t stop—“ you barely whimper it out before mizuki retracts his fingers. you could already feel his smirk from behind your shoulder.
you let out a sound between a sob and a growl. he’s been edging you for the past hour and all you wanted to do was feel relief after a long day.
“what is wrong with you?” turning your head, you snarl at his smug expression, feeling even more irritated.
mizuki clicks his tongue, “you know that attitude won’t get you anywhere.” he shakes his head in mock disappointment.
“come on, just— please?” you give in, giving him a pleading face. projecting the neediest and whiney tone, you look up at him. “babe.”
it seems to work a bit, given by the way his eyes soften just a little before he gives your lips a soft peck.
“you want these?” he flexes his hand, slender fingers moving the stickiness around and in between his middle and pointer, almost as if he’s fascinated. “yeah?”
giving him a soft kiss, you nod eagerly, “yes, yes, please give it to me.” you whisper nicely, hoping to sway him even further into giving you what you want.
“so polite.” he snickers, adjusting your position between his thighs, settling you into his chest before he hooks his chin over your shoulder. “my sweet little… whore?” he questions mockingly, like he was testing out a new petname.
“are you? are you my sweet whore, babe?” mizuki goads, kissing the side of your face while you both watch in a trance as his fingers sink back into you. “yeah, you are.”
he snickers quietly at the gasp you let out, curling your hands into the sheets beside his legs.
“my whore.” he kisses your cheek again, spoken with revelation. “my beautiful little slut.” you feel his fingers curl into you after every word, making you lean your head back into his body.
“i love you so much,” he almost moans into your ear. the way he’s almost getting off to the way you’re feeling good lights up a fire in your chest. “cum on my fingers, babe.”
you let out a broken breath, moaning into the air. he’s hitting your spot just right, and you feel yourself almost coming apart.
but right before you could call out to him though, your doorbell rings across the apartment and into the bedroom.
mizuki sighs in slight irritation, fingers suddenly stopping, making you let out a small sob. you were so close.
“wait here, i’ll be quick.”
he moves to get off the bed when you grasp his hand, eyes wet with unshed tears. “i was— i was so… don’t go. please.”
mizuki chuckles softly at your desperation. “it’s the food we ordered. you’d regret it if i didn’t get it.”
you shake your head, not giving any less of a fuck if it was from your favorite restaurant or not. you could only watch him leave the bedroom door open pathetically as he saunters outside in only his shorts.
mizuki ignores the way the delivery guy is taken aback by his appearance, clearly smelling of sex and looking like it too, with his ruffled hair and sweat sheened arms. the only thing he can think of is you, and how you’re probably writhing in restlessness back in the bed.
“got a girl back there?” the dude jokes, feeling awkward while mizuki goes through his pouch for the money.
he probably doesn’t mean anything by it, just a light joke, mizuki thinks. but he can’t help the irrational feeling of wanting to hide you away, to keep you a secret.
what if you order while he’s out one night and it’s this guy again? would he be able to recognize your smell? or remember your apartment number? he can’t help but think.
mizuki doesn’t answer, mood souring at the stranger’s inquiry. he quickly closes the door the moment he grasps the paper bag, leaving the guy with his change. he places it on the counter in a bit of a rush before returning to you.
meanwhile in the bedroom, you could hear them talk, but you’re far too muddled-brain to care. all you could think about was your boyfriend and your small growing grudge at him for denying you.
mizuki plops on the bed as soon as he’s back, “miss me?” he gets an unimpressed glare from you in return. “okay, okay. sorry.” he chuckles.
“i’m getting some of your food.” you grumble while he settles you onto his lap. “takin’… all your meat. and rice.”
he’s unfazed, “no problem.”
mizuki licks his lips before caressing your thighs, peppering kisses on to your chest. he slowly eases his fingers into you, they’re a bit wet since he washed his hands after grabbing the food. he may be freaky, but he’s not unhygienic.
“there you go.” he coos, watching you sigh at the feeling of being full. “this hole missed me? did it?”
“s-shut up.” you groan, still frustrated and annoyed at him.
mizuki kisses the scowl on your face, its wet and messy, just like the way he’s pumping his fingers into you. “calm down, i’m here now.” he placates, forehead resting on to yours.
you yelp when he curles them into the right spot again, hands coming up to grip onto the short black hair connecting to his neck. he groans in response.
“i’ve been so mean to you, haven’t i?” you nod at him, eyebrows furrowed.
mizuki frowns mockingly, “i have? aww… my poor baby.” with his free hand, he sneaks it under your shirt and tweaks a nipple, making you arch into his chest.
“i’ll make it up to you, precious.” he bites your cheek softly, feeling a bit aggressive. he can’t help it if you were being so cute.
“i left you so depraved… only fair if i made you cum—“
you moan into his shoulder, hiding your face when you felt shudders throughout your body.
“oh, already?” mizuki questions, fingers digging into you unrelentlessly. he doesn’t stop pumping it in and out. “you deserve more, babe.”
you shake your head, sobbing while clawing at his back, body feeling overwhelmed. the pain and pleasure was blinding as he places a hand behind you back, rubbing it in comfort.
“i’m not done. you can handle it, right?”
mizuki maneuvers you both on the bed, holding you steady while he fiddles through the drawer next to your bed. he takes out your bullet vibrator and kisses your temple softly, amusement in his eyes when he sees the look of surprise and horror on your face.
“you can take my portion. i’ll even feed it to you. just give me a bit more, okay?”
SYNOPSIS: After a late night mission, all Tobias wants is to be in your loving embrace.
A/N: It’s all just fluff!!
Toby trudged through the freezing streets with only one destination in mind. Home.
The moon hung low above him, casting pale silver light across the pavement and making the quiet neighborhood feel even more still. He exhaled sharply, watching the puff of fog leave his lips, shoulders hunched against the biting cold. Not that he could feel it anyways. His converse scraped softly with each step as he dragged his feet, the only sound breaking the silence.
When your house finally came into view, he relaxed just a little, hand instinctively dipping into his pocket for the keys you’d given him. His fingers met nothing. He froze, then groaned under his breath.
“F-f…fuck.”
He checked again, like they might magically appear. Nope. Still empty. He must’ve left them back at the manor. Toby tilted his head toward your darkened window, a crooked smile slowly tugging at his lips.
“W-window it is…”
The drainpipe groaned quietly as he climbed, movements a bit clumsy but practiced enough. His gloves slipped once, converse soles scraping against the brick, but he hauled himself up anyway until he reached your window. He steadied himself, then lightly tapped the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Inside, you stirred, lifting your head. At first, confusion crossed your face.
Brows pinched, eyes squinting, until your sleepy brain recognised the familiar messy hair and lopsided grin. Your expression softened instantly, melting into a bright, sleepy smile.
You shuffled over, wearing a cute tank top and fluffy pajama bottoms patterned with Care Bears, the soft fabric swishing as you moved. Toby’s grin widened at the sight.
The window slid open, letting in a rush of cold air.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, voice rough but playful, giving you his best attempt at charming, head tilted, eyes warm, and that familiar crooked smile that always gave him away.
“Suh-sorry… did I w-wake you?” he asked, not sounding sorry at all. You smiled anyway, shaking your head as you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “Nope. Just resting my eyes.”
His grin flickered, pleased, as he swung one leg over the windowsill and pulled himself inside. The moment his busted converse hit the floor he started stripping off his gear like he couldn’t stand the weight of it anymore. First the hatchet, the familiar one resting against your bedside table. His other rusty one was nowhere to be seen. Then the goggles, the muzzle, the heavy jacket. Each piece landed in a quiet pile. He toed off his shoes, peeled off the rugged jeans, and finally dragged his shirt over his head, until he was left in just his boxer shorts.
The single candle you’d left burning cast a soft glow across his skin, lighting up every scar and faint mark that mapped his body. They stretched over his shoulders, along his ribs, across his stomach. You’d seen them countless times, but the sight always made your chest tighten a little. Tonight, though, something felt different. He wasn’t tense in that restless way he usually was after a mission. He wasn’t streaked with dried blood, wasn’t smelling like smoke or metal. He looked calm. Almost tired in a softer way.
Before you could comment, he climbed onto the bed and gently but firmly nudged you backward. You let out a small laugh as you fell against the pillows. He settled himself between your legs, curling forward until his face pressed into your stomach. His arms wrapped around your waist, tightly as he was anchoring himself there.
You relaxed instantly, hands drifting to his hair. Your fingers worked slowly through the messy strands, massaging his scalp. He melted under the touch, shoulders loosening, a quiet content sound rumbling in his chest, the boy was practically purring due to your touch.
He clung to you a little tighter. His breathing evened out, warm against your shirt.
He must have had a tricky mission, or maybe something hadn’t gone quite right. Usually he came back jittery, restless, sometimes stained with blood that never belonged to him. Tonight he was different.
He took another deep breath, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he inhaled. It was almost intoxicating, the way you smelled. Fresh and sweet, like vanilla and something else he couldn't quite describe, something distinctly you. He was fucking addicted.
He let out a small hum of contentment, his grip on you tightening briefly before relaxing. "You s-smell so damn guh-good." he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing against your belly as your tank rode up.
“Go to sleep, baby.” You murmur gently.
YAY TOBY FLUFF!!! I haven’t wrote for my precious boy in ages!! ( ⸝⸝´ ᵕ `⸝⸝)
A/N : purely fluff i think, comments are appreciated hehe. sorry for any typos, english is not first language.
BEN DROWNED ▹ you guys were... facetiming. yeah— let's call him popping up in your screen when you're scrolling through social media "face timing". he's checking on you, admiring you while demanding that you tell him how your day went; even though he knows, he watches you 24/7. the difference is that he likes to hear the way you express yourself, Ben is curious about what words you might use to describe the little stain on your shirt from the coffee you accidentally spilled.
▹ so you obey, you tell him everything, from the moment you opened your eyes, to how many times you went to the bathroom and everything, he likes to know. he needs to know. you no longer feel uncomfortable by doing this, you've gotten used to it, to him, to feeling his gaze while you cook, or listen to music. there's always a presence, but there's something comforting about knowing that it's him.
▹ but suddenly there's silence. you stop talking and his eyes run frantically across your face to look for something. he doesn't know what it is. do you want to make up a lie? maybe ask him for something?
▹ the words "i love you" slip past your lips before you can stop them.
▹ it's a whisper, it's quiet, but sincere. intimate. and Ben— who has been teasing you relentlessly throughout the telling of your daily events just... stares.
▹ honestly, he didn't expect that at all. you almost think the connection is lost since he's completely ecstatic in the screen of your phone.
▹ and then you feel his lips crashing into yours. the kiss is not desperate, but it's definitely stealing every breath Ben can pull out of you. you whimper and he embraces you tighter, possesive yet so delicate.
▹ Ben breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours and he closes his eyes as if figuring out if he should joke or be honest.
▹ "shit, I..." he pauses and sighs, afraid but determined to show you a very rare moment of vulnerability. "i love you too."
TICCI TOBY ▹ you're straddling his lap. somehow he feels as if you could turn every mundane situation into something romantic. and you start to think so too. it's weird, the way you met him. he tried to hide what he was for a short time until you found out and you— didn't pull away from him. you liked Toby. he was kind, he protected you, so you tried to put the whole killing people thing aside as hard as it was.
▹ you stayed, and he thanked you for it by kissing your knuckles, by bringing you flowers from the forest, by massaging your back when you were sick, by cooking a meal for the two of you even though he barely knew how to cook. (he learned how to, just for you."
▹ and yet he just... never said the words. the phrase you were waiting for. did he love you? he seemed like he loved you. he certainly treated you as if he was sickly in love. then why...?
▹ "i love you." you blurted out; silencing his rant about some mission he had to do. not like you heard any of it, too lost in deciding if you'd take that first step. not like he cared that you shut him down. YOU told him you LOVED HIM. Toby was panicking!
▹ and lord have mercy was he GLAD.
▹ "i- i- me too!" he said, too enthusiastic, you'd never seen his face lit up so much. so you tilted your head to the side and he shook his head nervously. "i didn't t-th-think you were... y-you know! ready..." he spoke as if disappointed in himself. "i thought fo-for you it'd take m-more time! I've loved you s-si-since the day I met you." Toby confessed, smiling and quickly burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.
▹ after that it became a habit, you could even swear it became a tick. every day, every hour, every minute, every second Toby whispered stuttered i love you's in your ear.
Warnings: making out, mentions of unhealthy obsession in relationship dynamic
An: SUPER FLUFFY!! I love sweet Toby mmm. Again sorry for grammar lol. Anyways requested by @s1vkmutt !!! I hope you enjoy:p
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The store was filled with small trinkets. Paintings, figurines, antiques, anything you could think of. You didn’t really enter with much intent, but you wouldn’t lie and say you weren’t attracted to the colorfulness of the tiny shop.
As you perused mindlessly, you spotted a small rack that was littered with keychains. Immediately, a small light brown dog with scruffy fur caught your eye. The key chain wasn’t big, in fact it was significantly smaller than the others, but you felt oddly sentimental about the tiny guy. As you picked him up you couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend, Toby.
He was fiercely loyal, brunette, and had a scruffy kind of look to him. If Toby ever got reincarnated into a dog, this would 100% be him. You smiled at the idea of him being a puppy, checking the tag out of the corner of your eye. Not only was the dog adorable, but it was incredibly cheap. Pulling it off of its hook, you decided you couldn’t just leave the poor thing there.
You secured the keychain, stuffing it into your bag as you bid the store keeper farewell. You tried to think of how Toby would use the small guy—doubting he’d even have somewhere to keep it—but even then you still decided it was worth buying. It wasn’t a far walk from the store, only about two minutes.
You subconsciously relaxed slightly as the familiar building came into view. As you went grab the door, it pushed open under the weight of your hand. You immediately retracted back, confused as to why the usually locked door would be left ajar. The urge to grab your phone and call Toby grew increasingly appealing, a sense of unease blossoming in your chest. But before you could, you saw a familiar head of brown locks peak at the door from the kitchen. You sighed a breath of relief as you walked inside.
“Toby, you have got to stop leaving the door open when you come in.” You walked up to him, setting your bags down in the process. As you reached him you placed a small kiss to his lips, more of a greeting than anything else. He brought his head forward in attempt to follow you as you broke away. You pushed him with a slight giggle.
“Suh-sorry. Why’d y-you take so l-long?” He questioned, referring to the fact that you usually got home at 5:30, and it was now 5:55. He seemed unusually anxious, his tics interrupting him every few seconds.
“Ah—I made a stop at a store. I forgot to text you.” You answered simply, running your hands through his messy hair. “I thought you had work today?”
His neck jerked to the side with a pop as he shook his head, “no-nope, Brian and tuh-tim had to go, but nnn-not me.” He told you with a lopsided grin. You lit up at his words.
“So you’ll be here all weekend?” You asked, hope gleaming in your pretty eyes. He stared for a moment, lost in thought as he stood there, utterly enamored by you. It felt weird—having someone be excited to have you around. Toby wasn’t used to it in the slightest, so every time you showed even the tiniest bit of affection or genuine interest, he felt a sickeningly sweet dizziness fill his head. When he finally answered, it was quieter.
“Y-yeah.” He leaned forward, wrapping his long arms around your waist. When your lips met, it was far from sweet. He didn’t know how to do that—how to be gentle with something he wanted so bad. So when your mouths moved in tandem, a slight giggle falling from your lips at his abruptness, the only word you could use to describe it was hunger. But it was him, and it was genuine.
He was restless, whatever patience he had growing thin as his hands roamed your body. The way Toby kissed you was dizzying; like he couldn’t bear to leave a single part of you untouched. The warmth of his mouth absorbed you entirely until all you could feel was him.
In a sudden movement you pulled back, a desperate whine tearing from his chest. Even though you pulled your face back, your body was still flush to his, his grip hardening on your hips.
“W-why’d you sss-stop? Did I do s-something wrong?” A harsh tic forced his shoulder to jerk up to his ear.
“What?—Toby, no.”
“Do y-you not want to kis-kiss me?” The words were frantic and jumbled, a pout already adorning his face. His rambling only came to a stop once you placed your hand gently over his mouth.
“Yes, I want to kiss you. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You saw the crease in his eye brows slowly soften as you spoke. “I just remembered I wanted to show you something, and I knew that if we kept that up I’d completely forget bout…said thing.” The hand you were using to cover his mouth moved to his cheek. The soft ridges of his scar pressed against your fingertips as you traced his cheekbone.
Confusion laced his features as he stared at you with an almost expectant look. You took that as an invitation to break from his hold, another small groan slipping from his chest as you reached towards your bag. Once you fished through it for a moment you popped back up to face him.
“I found this at that store I stopped at. It just kinda reminded me of you!” The keychain sat in your palm as he stared with wide eyes. His gaze flickered between you and the dog, torn on which one to stare at. Toby didn’t feel pain, but the second the words fell from your lips, his heart clenched so hard he nearly doubled over. He examined the stuffed dog in your hand with glazed over eyes.
“F-for me?” The answer was clear, but Toby still felt required to ask. Like he had to make sure you weren’t lying. His voice shook as if you’d just gotten down on one knee.
“Mhm! Jus’ thought of you when I saw it. You don’t have to put it on anything, though. I just—“
“No, n-no, I’ll use it! I’ll use it. I’ll puh-put it on my bb-belt.” His tics were making it hard for him to stay still as he grabbed at your wrists. Brown eyes bored into yours while he rambled. Toby didn’t retrieve many gifts, not even growing up. He didn’t believe he was worth enough to hold up space in someone’s brain, let alone their heart. But then there was you, who continued to break down his insecurities that he’d spent years developing. And you weren’t even trying—you weren’t purposely doing anything. You were just being you, buying him some key chain that reminded you of him. But it was those small things you did that fueled his obsession. His infatuation. And maybe you’d never understand how deep his love for you ran, but he didn’t mind. As long as you were his, he’d be okay.
He clipped the dog on his belt, eyes still glazed with something you couldn’t quite place. Not wasting any time, he pulled you into a hug, his arms slipping across your waist as you grabbed his neck.
“Thank you, t-thank you, thank yyy-you, baby.” The air from his breath tickled your neck as he continued his soft praises. His fingers twitching against your back as his grip tightened.
“Of course, Toby. It’s just a key chain.” You laughed awkwardly at his reaction to the small dog.
“No. It’s not. I luh-love it sss-so much. I love you so muh-much.” The crack in his voice caused you to hold him tighter. You didn’t understand why it made him react the way he did, but you didn’t mind.
As he stood there, holding you with his eyes clenched, he knew you’d be his forever. There was no other option, at least not in this world. Not while he was alive. You were a holy light, and he was a desperate sinner begging and clawing at your feet. One who was infected with a sickening greed. One who had no intention of ever letting go.
A Look Into Billy Lenz’s Personality (from the book)
Okay so this is going to be my own interpretation of what we learn in the Black Christmas novelization. Specifically, I’m going to be going over the things Billy says. If you’re a huge fan of Black Christmas, or just Billy Lenz and you wish to learn more about him or the whole story, I highly suggest you go check it out right here: (https://100vampirenovels.net/pdf-novels/black-christmas-by-lee-hays-free).
That being said, let’s take a peak at Billy’s personality:
Based on what my 2 am notes describe, Billy is very much socially awkward as the story makes it clear that Billy really wants to communicate with the sorority house beyond using the telephone. Billy actually HATES using the telephone (shocker I know), but is SO shy at talking with others that he can’t help but hide away and establish a distanced method of speaking. This pretty much tells us that Billy can’t help but be afraid of interacting with other people. Billy’s social ineptitude is even shown near the part where he viciously stabs Barb to death. Upon seeing Jess and Barb talk to each other about nightmares and Peter, Billy is depicted as really longing for the kind of communication Jess and Barb are showing.
Another, but small note on Billy’s personality is that he comes across as a bit judgmental. When Barb picks up the phone and talks to her mom about life and such, she gets a bit sassy in attitude. Billy, of course listening to this, begins to judge Barb for daring to speak to her own mother that way. He’s bewildered from Barb having the courage to speak to her mother, an authority figure, in such a snappy tone. Interestingly enough, this points that Billy knows social standards (how and how not to talk to people), but can’t bring himself to properly talk with people to display his mannerism knowledge.
A BIG aspect of Billy’s personality is, without a doubt, insecurity. When Clare is packing her belongings to leave the sorority house, she suspects that Claude is in the room. She calls out to Claude, calling him names for being a silly pet. Billy, who was hiding in the fucking closet for whatever reason, hears this and actually thinks she’s talking about him. After feeling insulted, Billy lost it and murdered Clare with a plastic bag. The thoughts in his head say that he didn’t mean, or want to murder Clare, but that she “left him no choice” for “bullying” him. Clare’s death is an example of how anxious Billy is about himself, showing how he thought a casual conversation towards a cat was about him. He does NOT like being insulted to the point where he reacts violently. Billy has the urge to drastically “defend” himself when he feels insulted in any way.
Possessiveness also seems to be a personality trait of Billy. After having murdered the shit out of Clare and stashing her body up in the attic, he recognizes her father visiting the sorority house. Obviously, Clare’s father is trying to figure out what the fuck happened to her, but Billy’s annoyed at this. Billy describes Clare (at least her corpse) in a way you’d describe an item. Billy’s irritated at Clare’s father coming about and looking for her, because in Billy’s sick mind (the story in his POV), Clare belongs to him now. So not only is Billy hyper-aggressive when he feels insulted, but he has the sick urge to add insult to injury by “claiming” the body of his victims as his toy-like belongings. Clare “insulted” him, and she “paid” for it. To make himself feel better, Billy takes Clare’s body up into where he’s staying, a twisted mimicry of a child getting a toy, or obtaining a friend. That way, Clare surely won’t “mock” Billy anymore, as he now “owns” her.
However, Billy also has self awareness. The story later begins to show that Billy doesn’t like what his mind forces him to believe, and how he behaves. When Mrs. MacHenry is searching the house for Claude, Billy hopes that she doesn’t reach the attic because once she does, he won’t be able to stop himself. Billy hates this about himself.
In conclusion…Billy is clearly mentally ill. Very, very mentally ill. It’s shown that Billy is aware of how to behave towards others, and does (in fact) have a sense of right and wrong since his murderous actions come back to disgust him. However, he’s also very incapable of properly establishing communication between himself and other people. He’s also violently insecure about himself, along with being possessive towards others. He sees that what he does is awful, and even knows the ins and outs of how one should treat authority figures.
Billy’s personality is under an attack of cognitive dissonance, leading him to even more stress. Deep down inside, despite the sociopathic behaviors, Billy hates that this is an uncontrollable aspect of his brain. Billy wants to be a normal person, Billy wants to be liked, and he doesn’t want to rely on the telephone just to get issues off of his chest. However, something, or some things happened in Billy’s past if he can’t help but behave so hellacious. Billy was so abused and traumatized by events in his childhood, that despite his morality (self sufficient or taught), he can’t help but put on a fight in the name of defending himself. Whatever ridicule, beating, and verbal abuse Billy encountered has cemented into his brain, establishing a psychological illness that leaves him incapable of navigating unfavorable situations other than “attack, attack, attack”.
Billy not being able to control his horrendous actions points to an error in his mind. However, there are many mental illnesses that create a warped view of reality, and a hindered ability to control oneself. So while Billy definitely suffers from a psychological disorder, it’s impossible to get an idea of what exactly he may have…until we use his phone calls to analyze his history and how his mind interprets it, but we’ll have to save that for later in the day.
Anyways, this was my particular analysis of (1974) Billy Lenz’s personality! I wish you all a good ass week, at least better than how I’m reacting to my online class assignments. Remember, stay a simp for slashers.
༄ a/n: sasuke is at the final because ofc i wrote more at him
🃜 🃚 🃖
🍃 Kakashi
Kakashi will definitely be more than happy to fuck you as much as you needed. Anywhere. In his office? One of his fantasies. Every corner of your house? Just say the word. At night? He barely sleeps anyway. Morning? The best way to start your day, refreshed.
After his fingers reached the most delicious spots at the same time with his sinful lips that had already sucked your pussy into two orgasms, you were barely satisfied.
“Ah, fuck—Yes! So good, you fill me so good!” Kakashi leaned over you, lifting your leg higher on the table next to the bed and whispered into your ear, tilting your chin toward him.
“Yes, sweetheart?” He groaned at a particularly deep thrust. “Is my [Name] satisfied yet?”
“No, no—Please! More, Kakashi! I love your dick so fucking much—” He hissed at your dirty mouth, feeling himself throb inside you. Taking both your hands behind your back while you bent further for him and parted your legs, Kakashi used your restrained wrists as leverage, his thrusts pounding your needy pussy harder, shaking the table. Only his name could be heard as you screamed it.
“I’ll fuck you anytime you want, [Name].”
🍃 Itachi
Itachi has a talent for pretending he doesn’t understand what you’re implying unless you say it directly. Whether your legs rub together when he replies a certain way… when you taunt him—and of course, he notices. Whether you look at him like you want to devour him, and he acts…sweet, far sweeter than usual. As if nothing’s happening, becoming even more affectionate just to soak you further and further until you’re the one who begs.
“Itachi, c-can you fuck me, please?”
He was nuzzling into your neck, sending shivers down your spine while he left soft, warm kisses.
“Didn’t I satisfy you this morning, dear [Name]?”
You almost whined when he stopped touching you, instead just looking at your flustered, shy face.
“Y-yes, but—” As you hid your face from shame, Itachi let out a soft, brief laugh, touching your thighs and caressing you before gently pulling you toward the edge of the bed. Burying his head between your thighs and starting to kiss them slowly had become a ritual for him. How long would she last this time?
After torturing you with slow, precise touches that made you cum too many times, you begged him to spare you.
“Itachi, p-please, my love—I can’t anymore!”
He murmured against your skin, caressing your whole body and making it arch impossibly before he found your lips. You chased his hips, struggling to find his painfully hard cock as he kept pleasuring you, placing it at your entrance. Itachi smiled at your eagerness as he slowly pushed inside. Moaning as he finally, finally fucked you, you locked your legs around him, urging him deeper and making him groan.
“Mhmm, I love it—I love it! Fuck! I’ll let you warm me every day if you want, I-Itachi!”
Composed as he was, your words affected him deeply, making him push deeper inside you as he felt himself closer to the edge far too soon than he wanted.
You’re something else like that.
🍃 Madara
Madara would let you ride him until you physically couldn’t anymore, finding pleasure in watching you that desperate.
Fucking back onto his dick, you couldn’t fight the strangled noises that poured out from your mouth. “You’re so fucking b-big, Madara.” You gasped, barely able to hold yourself upright from the force of your tremble, sliding back and forth in a way that had both of you panting for more.
Madara was restraining himself pretty well, dragging his cigarette from his lips as he watched you use his body, smirking at your praise.
“My wife likes to use my dick that much, huh?”
Sensing your struggle, he fucked up into you, meeting your thrusts in the middle and sliding in even deeper, making you shake and moan hard as he caught you before falling, his hand wrapping around your throat to steady you.
“Scream for me, pretty woman.”
🍃 Shikamaru
Shikamaru would probably let you ride him too, enjoying the show even while his cheeks flushed from being so desired.
Still, sometimes you pushed his limits. Enough to make him snap, dragging you between his draining tasks as the Hokage’s right hand—into his office, or any room nearby, even a storage one he hoped no one used.
Your hands were on the wall, helping you keep balance while Shikamaru pounded into your pussy with deep, hard strokes. With one hand holding your chin and cheeks, not too tightly, he whispered into your ear.
“My baby’s so needy? So fucking needy she couldn’t wait until I came home?”
🍃 Obito
Obito would be completely at your mercy—even if his cock was about to break if you didn’t stop sucking him eventually.
But how could he stop such a glorious sight? You, kneeling and devouring him, sucking him off again and again like it was the only thing you needed. Still, his cock was painfully swollen, and he hadn’t even fucked you yet.
“B-baby, don’t you want me t-to fuck your sweet pussy?”
Slurping around his cock, you looked up at him under your lashes, making Obito let out a whimper and throw his head back. You stopped, playing with his cock and kissing it, licking him slowly.
“You gonna breed me, baby? Make me all swollen and dripping with you? Only you?”
Damn it, Obito fucking lost it at that. He gently took your hands off him, and the next second, you were in bed, with him already between your thighs. His gaze was so intense it made your heart tremble, afraid of how hard he’d fuck you now. But you already knew what would happen when you teased him enough—deep, slow thrusts until the bed nearly broke, and you were left with at least two loads inside.
🍃 Naruto
Naruto would be clueless like always when it came to anything about your body. But after a while, he swore on his life he’d learn everything about it just to make you happy. Even if sometimes he asked dumb questions that didn’t make any sense. “Ahm… Been thinking since morning. If you’re ovulating, you’ll stop making babies if… we fuck?”
Naruto was more than happy to eat you out as a warm-up, even begging you to ride his face until he couldn’t breathe, his head locked between your thighs.
“Not enough, not enough—!” As your moans spilled into the air, grinding on his face, Naruto looked up at you with a feral glint in his eyes. That look alone made your heart skip—your mouth falling open, your whole body blabbering for his cock.
Wanting nothing more than to be inside your soul, Naruto had you pinned completely, sometimes with your legs over his shoulders or wrapped around his waist while he fucked you deep and fast. His back was covered in scratches—ones he secretly loved admiring after, even if he blushed thinking about what he’d done.
“F-fuck, baby! You r-really are the perfect girl for me—Mhmm!” Naruto’s hoarse, slightly desperate voice made you spiral closer to the edge every time he spoke, accentuated by his hard, deep thrusts. “And the b-best pussy ever.”
🍃 Sasuke
Sasuke wouldn’t even be aware of it. Especially since he initiates almost every time. And especially since you don’t really know how to do it, so you’re scared to embarrass yourself (you wouldn’t—he’d be hard in a minute if you even tried).
Until now, you only tried to show him through more affection. Like burying yourself in his soul. And the only reaction you got (pretty cute) was a blushing Sasuke. But things didn’t stay that way for long. Annoyed he couldn’t read your intent, you started acting petty, your irritation rising drastically. At first, he only gave you a side-glance or raised eyebrow—aware of your hormonal cycles since he monitors them to understand you better. Until you became too irrational for him to decipher anymore.
After a rough day, you welcomed him with one of your passive-aggressive remarks that made him vanish, acting impulsively until he was right behind you. Your breath halted and your pulse ticked the moment you felt the warm air from his mouth against your ear.
“Why are you acting like that?” His voice was contained, restrained from snapping the way you’d spoken to him these past days. “Are you mad at me?”
You swallowed hard, a shiver running down your spine as you closed your eyes, his presence intoxicating everything around you, the heat of his body touching you so faintly it made you ache for more. Sasuke widened his eyes slightly at the realization—watching you bite your lip to avoid admitting, watching your trembling legs, the way you avoided his dark gaze. You want him, don’t you?
His voice was mocking, yet soft. His hands finally touched you more, still far too slow for what you needed right now.
“Poor little thing. All this time you’ve just wanted me to fuck you?”
You gasped at his words, redness spreading across your cheeks as he started undressing you quickly, leaving you naked.
“Sasuke…” He kissed you from top to bottom, reaching your shoulder and kissing it gently just to make you hiss, marking you. He tilted your chin, chasing your lips as you moaned, pushing your ass back against his clothed cock, making him groan. “Fuck me, Sasuke—”
You were so wet you didn’t care about anything else—only his greedy hands, touching and squeezing every inch of you as he nuzzled into your neck.
“Should I? After the attitude you gave me all week?”
Seeing you so desperate for him, Sasuke only wanted to talk more for some reason. Maybe to get back at you for not saying it sooner, because if you had, he would’ve already fucked you several times by now. Or maybe simply because he adored the way his hands felt on your tempting bod, driving him mad. Especially when you beg.
“Please, baby—Please, Sasuke!”
He hummed at your plea, undoing his belt in the process and not making you wait much longer before slipping inside—slow, but deep. Even though you were dripping, already prepared with two fingers, you still clenched impossibly tight, making it hard for him to last.
“Relax, [Name]. Fucking hell—”
You started bouncing on his cock, unable to listen—loving it too much, moaning his name. Sasuke groaned at the sight, chasing your hips and fucking you deeper, rougher, if that’s what you desperately wanted. Still, he really needed to fuck you again because you made him cum way too soon. Now you needed to cum at least twice, looking only at him.
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