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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

it's time to go

actor eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

an: im sweating.

songs/media mentioned: happiness by taylor swift and it's time to go by taylor swift (not mentioned but name of the chapter!!)

previous part linked here

You take a deep breath in as you stand at the shining bright doors of the building, the reflective mirrors at the front showing you your small frame in comparison. You brush down the ends of your dress, ridding your palms of the sweat accumulating as you push through the doors.

There’s a receptionist sitting at the front, with short black hair who is diligently typing away on the computer. You can see the issue of Vogue, the one the Attack on Titan cast did for season two, placed in a placard at the top of the desk. And when you look around, you see that every Vogue cover you’ve done - the one of you and Sukuna, for your albums - is displayed everywhere.

Then again. This is a big deal. Surely it’ll be their biggest feature of the year.

“Alright. Your interview should be up the stairs, in room eleven. They’ll start set-up at twenty and then the interview will start at half-past.” she states, handing you a shiny key-card.

“Would you happen to know if my request regarding the piano was approved?”

“I believe so. It should be in the room.” she responds, smiling.

“Thank you!” you respond.

You walk up the stairs and find the room, a few workers shuffling around the set. They all give you polite smiles as you walk straight onto the stage, an expensive brown couch on the left and the grand piano you requested on the right.

You take your backpack off and pull out the box, filled with polaroids all tagged to perfection for your interview, as they all start adjusting the microphones and cameras into place. A shorter, older woman walks up to you, shaking the microphone pack in her hand as she gestures for you to stand up.

“Hi! Thank you so much for helping me out today. I’m Y/N.” you respond, clipping the pack to the back of your dress.

“No problem. I’m Leila.”

You pause.

“I know you. We-we’ve met before, right?”

Her face widens in shock as she nods, a bright smile spreading across her face.

“Yes, that’s right.” she murmurs, voice quiet.

“It was…god. That was years ago, back when we were doing press for season two. We filmed a video for your daughter, she was asleep and she was a really big fan, right? How is she doing?”

“She’s doing good. She’s still a big fan of your music.” she says, smiling as she loops the wires through your ears, shuffling your hair behind your ear as she readjusts.

“That’s sweet. I’m so glad she enjoys it, that-that’s very special to me that she does.” you respond, cheeks warm and something stirring in your chest.

You take her in full, trying hard to wrack your brain for how she used to look. She’s definitely years older now - five to be exact - but you can’t pinpoint any. No wrinkles, no tiredness - still the same woman you knew.

But you’re miles away from who you used to be, having aged what feels like eons. You think back to the interview, the compliments you and Eren gave to each other stinging in your mind.

Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together.

Y/N. You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.

You’re sure you're crying as you look back at Leila, her eyes wide as she reaches forward to wipe the tears. The deep feeling, the sadness sitting so deep in your chest that you’ve been trying to ignore, is suddenly too overwhelming, too loud for you to swallow.

“I’m so sorry. Was it something I said?” she asks, her look frantic.

You take her hand in yours, squeezing three times.

“No. It’s me. I just remembered that interview. What Eren and I had said to each other and it made me a little sad, that’s all.” you respond, wiping your tears against the back of your hand.

Her face deflates.

“I’m very sorry for what happened. To the both of you.”

You sigh.

“Thank you. I-I appreciate that.”

“This industry is not kind. To anyone. And having seen how you two were as kids, how genuine, it’s sad to see what they’ve said to you both. You know that most of it, if any, isn’t your fault. People- they’re cruel. You’re a very brave girl for still coming here.”

You swallow hard. And hope she still thinks you’re brave at the end of your interview.

You sit down on the couch, anxiously tucking the ends of your hair towards the back of your ears, as the interviewer walks in, a bright smile on her face. Leila leaves, giving you a thumbs up as she walks away.

“Y/N. Congratulations. I’m Layla. Thank you for finally coming down for your interview.” she states, taking her seat on the couch next to you as they adjust the microphone in front of her. She has a blue box in her hands, which she tucks behind the couch.

You don’t miss the snub she makes at you for postponing for months on end. You became a triple threat months ago. And your interview - about your career, about your work - was supposed to happen ages ago.

“Thank you for waiting until I was ready. I can promise you-you won’t be disappointed with what I have for you. What’s that?”

“It’s for you. We’re saving it for the end of the interview.” she states, giving you a smile.

You nod, as you brace your knuckles against your own box, the director coming over to give you both directions and stage you properly against the cameras.

“Hello everyone! My name is Layla Ray and I’m here with Y/N L/N. After a great deal of anticipation, Y/N is finally here, seated with Vogue, for the infamous triple threat interview. We’re going to go through the highs and lows of her career and ultimately discuss what comes with such a great title. Y/N, how are you feeling?” she asks, giving you a bright smile.

You swallow hard.

“Thank you, Layla. I’m doing okay. How are you?”

“I’m great, thank you for asking. This interview has been a long time coming. Six months to be exact. Any particular reason why?” she states, adjusting her tone to be quieter, matching your tone. You can tell she’s a skilled interviewer - the excitement from before dying down as she brings the energy lower.

“I-I wanted to be sure of what I wanted to say here. I want to be honest when we talk about my career and that requires self-reflection. I needed the time to do that. And I-I brought things here to share so I had to put those together too.” you state.

“We’ll go back to the start then. What drew you to the industry - acting, singing, dancing?” she asks.

You pull out your first picture, the one you ripped off of your wall. The paint is still stuck to the tape on the back, the picture of you, Falco, and Colt at your popstar themed birthday party. Colt and Falco have excited smiles on their faces, a sparkly pink crown on top of your head and your hands are clenched around the microphone, at the bottom. You can hear Eren’s words ringing in your mind.

Everyone else holds the microphone at the top, their fingers nearly wrapped around the wire. You’re like the only person I know who holds it at the bottom - like you’re doing in the picture.

“This is me at my fourth birthday party. It was a popstar themed birthday party my parents threw for me. I performed a little show for them and my brothers, did karaoke, the whole thing. I-I saw Hange’s speech a few years later when they became a triple threat and it-it basically cemented this as my dream.” you respond, holding up the picture before handing it to Layla.

She’s smiling, running her fingers over the picture.

“This must be a surreal moment. A dream come true.”

You wish.

“Let’s talk about Attack on Titan. How did you find out about it, what was it like being cast, and on a set for the first time?”

“I found out about it through a flier at my coffee shop. I kind of showed up on a whim and did a chemistry read with my co-star. I got the role later that week and was flown out to be with them all. I-I was overwhelmed when I got there at first. I didn’t know much about the set, the terms that you’re supposed to use, they-they had to teach it all to me, like I was a five year old. A fish out of water moment.”

You nervously walk to the other side of the set, where Eren’s sitting in the makeup chair. The team is brushing through the ends of his brown locks, his eyes fixed on his script in front of him, as he murmurs his lines under his breath. You reach forward and snatch the paper out of his hands and tuck it under your arm.

“Good morning to you too, Y/N.” he responds, eyes wide as he smiles at you.

“Sorry. Good morning, Eren.”

He smiles.

“I was joking. Did you need something?”

“I have an embarrassing question. Can you come here?” you murmur, cheeks burning pink.

He quickly hops off the chair, giving a sympathetic nod to the makeup team, as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, his face close to yours as you talk in hushed tones.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s a hot brick?” you ask.

“Huh?”

“Hange. They-they asked me to bring them a hot brick. And when I said what, they were like…You do know what a hot brick is, right? And I got so embarrassed I kind of ran away and now I don’t know what to do.”

Eren pauses as he registers, which is immediately followed by him smiling and leading you towards the back of the room. He picks up one of the charged batteries of the walkie talkies and places it flat in your palm.

“A hot brick is a fully charged battery.”

“Oh. Right. Th-thanks, Eren.”

He puts his hand on your shoulder.

“It’s only like your sixth day on a set. I didn’t even know this stuff until the end of my first movie. You-you aren’t behind, I promise.”

“Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“I’ll help you. Before the rest of the cast gets here. Teach you all the terms and the secrets and stuff. You’ll be a natural.”

“Really?”

Eren gives you a nod, the smile on his face drawing your eyes to his dimples.

“Thank you, Eren. Really.”

“It’s no biggie. I’ll help you with anything you want. Just ask, okay?”

“One of our most overwhelming questions that we received was what was it like filming with your cast? Your show - along with Jujutsu Kaisen - were really the first of their types to have such a big child actor presence on them.”

You smile, pulling out your next three pictures. The first - it's a picture of you and Bertholdt, holding a World’s Greatest Dad mug in front of Levi, who has the most annoyed expression on his face. The second is of you and Historia - tying Reiner’s hair into two tiny ponytails. And the third - you and Marco, hugging each other so hard that your cheeks are pressed together.

“It was the time of my life, really. I-I went to sleep every night with a smile on my face. They were genuinely such good friends of mine and this experience, these memories - they’ll always be special to me.”

“Do you have a favorite memory?” she asks.

“Hm. I-we were all kind of immature at that age. I still am. Anything related to dirty jokes, especially when Erwin or Hange were involved is a surefire favorite. Sometimes I’ll remember them and still burst out laughing.”

The teacher stands at the front of the makeshift classroom, the lazy energy enveloping the room. The warm haze of the summer has the ends of your hair sticking to your neck, the cold desk soothing your burning skin - preventing you from listening to whatever the physics teacher is saying about the solar system.

You look to your right to find the same sentiment shared by everyone else too. Eren’s eyes are closed, his chin resting against his desk as the sweat rolls down the side of his face. Connie and Sasha are sharing a cold drink between them and Jean’s nearly turning pink as he fans Mikasa - the only one who looks relatively comfortable right now.

You kick Eren’s leg.

“Hm? What’dya want, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Jean is fanning Mika. You could do the same.” you groan.

You feel a light breeze on your neck as you turn your head to see Eren, leaning against his arm as he fans you with the book. You take it from his hand, giving a head shake as you turn to your side, the two of you facing each other on the aisles. You instinctively place your feet on top of his, the two of you looking at each other.

“I was kidding.”

“I know. I don’t mind though. You’re looking a little hot.”

You smile.

“Just a little?”

“Shut up. You know exactly what I think about how you look.” he says, rolling his eyes.

You bite back your smile.

“And that’s why the answer is Uranus.” the teacher says, metal pointer smacking against the board.

You look up at Eren, the two of you so incredulous - from the heat, from being stuck in here for three hours, from how stupid of a word it is - that you both burst out laughing. And then get in trouble together.

“What the hell was so funny that your teacher had to take you out of class?” Levi asks, arms crossed against his chest as he stares the two of you down, hours later. Hange and Erwin are trying to mimic his intimidated stance, but all you and Eren can do is laugh.

“Um. You don’t want to know, Levi.” you respond.

“It’s stupid. We’re sorry.” Eren states.

“No. No, I want to know what was so funny that you laughed so hard you pissed one of your nicest teachers off.”

You and Eren give each other a look.

“It-it’s inappropriate. We’re really sorry, okay? We’ll go and apologize right away.”

You and Eren stand up, linking arms together as you move to walk away. Except Levi’s moved in front of you two, an entirely different look on his face.

“Do I need to have a talk with you two?”

“What?” you ask.

“A talk. About sex.”

You and Eren turn your heads to each other, eyes wide. And you immediately start back tracking.

“Levi. Ew- oh my god. What’s wrong with you? You’re so disgusting. And-and-and a pervert.”

“Y/N. Do we have to have a talk? Are you being safe? Why are you guys making dirty jokes in class that you can’t tell me?” he repeats, eyes burning into yours.

“No! Oh my god Levi! It’s not like that.”

Levi looks back at Hange as you look over at Eren, who's pouting at you.

“What, Eren?”

“You don’t have to act like you’re soooo repulsed by it. That’s not what you sounded like-”

You smack your hand over his mouth, cheeks burning.

“Eren. Shut up. This is not the time or the place to be bringing THAT up.”

He smirks, clearly delighted by how embarrassed you are, before pressing a kiss to your palm where you’re covering his mouth. He turns back to Levi, Hange, and Erwin.

“Levi. We’re sorry. The teacher said Uranus and we thought it was funny.”

“Uranus? What the fuck is so funny about Uranus?” Levi asks.

You bite down on your cheeks to stop yourself from laughing in Levi’s face - his very angry face. Luckily enough for you, you're not the first one to break. And neither is Eren.

It’s Hange. They’re smacking the back of Levi’s back as they ask him to say it again, the four of you - Erwin having joined you - as you all goad Levi on to say it again. And you laugh so hard that by the end of it, you’re on the floor - screaming for them to stop as Eren rubs circles into your back.

Your chest twinges, as she hands the pictures back, and you tuck them back into the box.

“The success after season one of Attack on Titan was pretty tremendous. You guys essentially became house names overnight. How did that feel, especially given your background? Nepotism runs deep and heavy in what we do and you seem to be one of our only outliers, here.”

“It was horrible.”

A shocked look spreads across her face.

“I’m grateful for it all. Don’t get me wrong. But my life changed overnight. I-I went to school and I wasn’t treated as the same person anymore, by people I grew up with. There were people hanging around my school, waiting to take pictures of me, and-and anyone who had a chance of understanding me, they were all miles away. Filming.”

“Did you feel that often? Comparing yourself to your co-stars?”

“Originally, no. I-I was just happy to be there. But people, I mean. They talk. It-it kind of cemented that idea in my mind. I didn’t think it was weird that I was the only one who wasn’t filming until someone pointed it out. And-and someone always pointed these things out.” you respond.

Colt snatches the phone from your hands, an irritated look on his face as he slides it into his pocket. After a six hour phone call with your new publicist and producers - Danny and Sareen - all you could do was aimlessly scroll through social media, their words swimming through your mind as you considered your options.

“Quit reading that shit.” he says, making an effort to storm out of your room. He hangs by the door when he reaches it, his hands pressed against the frame.

You shuffle under the blanket, pulling the soft fabric over your head. And a few seconds later, Colt’s pulling it off, expression a bit softer than before.

“I-I just don’t get why you read it. What’s the point?”

“I dunno.”

He slides onto your bed, putting his cold legs next to yours under the blanket as you complain.

“In my meeting with Danny and Sareen. They-they’re the new producer and the manager that reached out to me. They were saying all this stuff about how I can’t drop the ball anymore. How if I have people paying attention to me now, I-I have to keep it going.”

Colt frowns.

“I-I don’t know how this stuff works. What does that have to do with you reading a bunch of people saying rude stuff about you online?”

“I told them I had time to decide, figure out what I want to do next. They said I should look online and reconsider. That if I want to be a triple threat, I-I should trust them.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. They-they’re right. And they seem like the type to push me in the right direction, like Levi and Hange. I know they’ll do whatever to help me be the best. They want what I want.”

Colt shrugs. And you know he doesn’t understand.

“Let’s talk about season two. You made history this season - by being nominated for Best Actress in a Lead role among many others, becoming the most nominated actress in Institute history in one night. How did that feel? To-to do that so young?”

“That-that was a win. It came after something really, really intense for me actually. I-I had all these feelings about what it was like to be famous. Building for months. And-and I got them put into words for me right before that happened. It was kind of like going from a really low low to the highest of highs. I-Intense is the word I’d use for it.”

“Could you elaborate? On that?”

You swallow hard.

“Being famous is like living in a fishbowl. There’s-there’s glass in between you, the viewers, and me the person. And it may seem like you can see me, that you and I are the same but the glass is always between us. You enjoy on the other side, smack against the glass, sometimes even put your rods out to wring us out. We-we’re stuck there, that’s all. I realized that and found out I got nominated minutes after. But that’s this job for you. You’re at the bottom one minute and the top the next.”

Her eyes flutter down to your tattoo but she doesn’t make a point to mention it.

“Let’s discuss music now. Following winning Best Actress in a Drama Series, your impressive albums and tours started. You released your debut album, followed by lover girl, and then ribbons. This-this was an insane feat on your part - most artists take four to five years to produce albums at this pace. What motivated you during this time?”

“My manager and my producer are pushing me at every step.”

She smiles.

“That’s some support system.”

“That’s not the word I would use for it.” you respond, voice cutting.

She nods.

“That’s right. Following your last performance, rumors were flying around that you had fired Danny and Sareen, your beloved manager and producer. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

“I just told you. They were pushing me at every step.”

You sigh, looking down at your hands, knotting your fingers together. One of the first things, you could come under fire for, is talking about them, so bluntly the way you are.

“I looked up to them. My previous example from my mentors - Hange and Levi - was perfect. Almost too perfect. Because of them, because of how willing they were to support me, to defend me, I thought everyone was like that. I thought every person who was willing to be on my team was taking into account that I didn’t know much about the industry and pushing me in the right direction.”

“And that wasn’t true for them?”

You take a deep breath.

“I think they used that to their advantage. That I had a blind faith in them. That I wanted to please them, to please other people. I didn’t know that it wasn’t normal to put out three records, to do world tours that fast. I didn’t know that it was insane that I forgot to eat some days, I didn’t know that it was crazy that they were waking me up after two hours of sleep to put me to work. I-I thought that it was all part of the hustle.”

“How do you feel about it now? Having fired them?”

“I-I don’t regret what they’ve done for me. I-I am thankful to them. If anything, I’m more embarrassed of what they did make me do. Why I didn’t think twice on things they asked me to do, songs they convinced me to write.”

She looks intrigued. She knows she’s getting into the good stuff.

“Songs like?”

“London Boy.” you respond.

“That brings us to Ricky James. Are you saying that you didn’t write London Boy?”

“No. No, I wrote it. But I was asked to write it the way I did. Write a love song about him.”

“Because?”

“Press. It’ll get people to talk. People get bored of the same thing over and over again after years.” you respond, repeating Danny and Sareen’s words, about Eren.

You sigh.

“It’s embarrassing to admit that I did that. Pretend just to get people to listen to my music. I-I am ashamed of it.”

“It’s okay. We-we understand.”

“I don’t think you do.” you whisper.

You can feel the tears pricking your eyes.

“I-I regret it. It’s a horrible thing to do. Especially when, when you have real love and you give it up to pretend. And it’s humiliating to pretend, to see people coo over you and a guy you barely even know. But when you’re famous, when people are telling you this is what you have to do, when this is what everyone does, it doesn’t seem like much to give up. I-I could feel the shame crawling in my skin when I look back at it now.”

You swallow down the regret, thick in your throat.

“How so?”

“The night my album premiered, Ribbons. In the past, all my best friends, they-they’d come to listen with me. Throw me a party, press kisses to my cheeks. I turned them all down that year. It’s one thing to pretend to everyone you know. It’s another thing to do it to people who know better. Who know what you’re doing. I didn’t want to pretend in front of their faces. ”

“Speaking of that night. Could you speak on this?”

She sides the picture, the one the paparazzi took of you on the curb before Lana got to you, towards you. You pick it up and look at it - at your eyes pinched shut and your drenched hair.

“It’s simple. Ricky James started liking me. Asked me out. I said no. And then he locked me out in the rain.”

You see the discomfort spread across her face as she slides the picture back.

“I’m very sorry that happened to you. But you came out of it at the top, with your hit featuring Lana Price. Was she part of your support system during that time?”

You smile.

“Yeah.”

“Can’t sleep?”

You look up from the shelves you were currently pawing through to find Lana, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes, as she walks over to where you’re standing.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted water but I couldn't find the glasses.”

She smiles as she wraps her hand around your wrist and leads you to the other side of the kitchen, taking a glass out of the correct cabinet and filling it up for you. You both lean against the counter, illuminated by the fridge of the kitchen light in the dark kitchen.

And suddenly you’re crying again, wet, warm tears falling down the length of your face. At the thought of where you were four nights ago - running in the rain until she picked you up. You aggressively wipe the tears off of your cheeks as she catches on. And Lana, despite this being the second time having met you, is quick to pull you into her arms, the sweet strawberry smell of hers filling your nose.

“You smell like candy.”

“Don’t go biting me now.”

You laugh, pressing against her arms harder as your tears fall onto her shoulder, trying to muffle your sobs by clamping your mouth shut.

“Eren told me. About Colt.”

She pulls back, wiping the tears off your cheek as she talks, softly.

“You’ll get better at doing this. Protecting them. I can almost guarantee it.” she says, giving you a smile.

“How do you know?”

“Because I did it. Which means you can too.” she responds, placing her glass of water in your hands.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is. I’ll help you. Eren will help you.” she responds.

“You’re already doing enough for me. Both of you. I’m intruding on your house right now.”

You feel two hands, warm, around your neck, accompanied with a light squeeze. And then Eren, his voice still raspy from sleep, whispering in your ear.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you whisper.

“Say that again and I’ll kill you. What’s mine is yours.” he responds, sliding his hands off of you as he pushes the fridge door closed and opens the light.

Lana groans.

“God. Would it kill you to put a shirt on, ugly?”

“Would it kill you to brush your hair, you hag? Or maybe not wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“That wasn’t even me. Y/N woke up first!”

“It was your croaking that woke me up, Lana. You sound like a toad.” he mutters.

You laugh, which breaks the two of them out of their argument, and has soft smiles spreading across both of their faces.

“You guys are like siblings.”

Lana comes over, hands cupping your face.

“My sweet, sweet Y/N. Please don’t insult me.”

And then Eren’s behind you, arms slithering around your waist, his voice warm in your ear again.

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, princess.”

“Quit flirting, Eren. You’re such a manwhore.” Lana says.

“Princess was her nickname on set, dumbass. Because she’s a pop princess. I’m not flirting.” Eren responds,

“Wow. So you’re too good to flirt with Y/N. You think you’re better than her?”

“What?” Eren asks, leaning off of you.

Catching on to what Lana’s trying to do, you turn around and look at Eren, trying to hide your coy expression.

“Do you really think that, Eren?”

His eyes go wide, hands on your shoulders.

“No! No, oh my god! I don’t think I’m better than you. If anything, you-you’re better than me. I’ll flirt with you all you want. I swear!”

You and Lana stare him down for a few seconds before you burst out laughing, a pink spreading across Eren’s cheek as he grumbles, an irritated look on his face as he shoves past Lana.

“You guys are annoying. I’m going back to bed.”

“Aw, Eren! Come back! Flirt with her!” Lana says, teasing him on.

“Don’t stay down here too, Y/N. You’re going to lose brain cells.” he murmurs, shuffling away.

You turn back to Lana, who's filling your glass with water again. She has a soft smile on her face, eyes warm as she hands you the water.

“This type of stuff…it really helps.” she says.

“This type of stuff?”

“Good people. Who want to take care of you. Make you laugh after you cry, all that cheesy stuff.”

You hum, leaning against the counter again.

“Lean on Eren. Don’t get so jumbled up on what it means and how he’s feeling because he just wants to be there for you.” she says.

“I’m trying to. I guess I just feel bad.”

“I would have benefited a lot from someone like Eren, if I knew him when I was younger. When I was-”

You quirk your head to the side, beckoning for her to elaborate.

“For the longest time, I thought that this is just how guys were. Assholes. Dicks. That it was a matter of finding one who was relatively nice, good enough. That real guys, they’re never like this.”

You frown.

“My dad was an asshole. Ricky was horrible. My brother was the only person who was nice to me but we just- we lived so far and with the jobs and stuff we grew apart. And when I had to deal with things on my own, things I was too young to even understand, I-”

She pauses. Swallowing hard.

“I would have benefitted from knowing Eren earlier. Guys like Eren, like your friends Jean and Marco. Eren’s helped with a lot of my shame and made me better. I-I owe a lot to him really. I know we said what we said earlier, but he is like my brother. He’s always protected me. Overwhelmed me with kindness under insults.”

You smile.

“He’s a good guy. Always has been.” you whisper, heart warm at Eren being Eren, still.

“So let him. Overwhelm you with kindness. Be there for you. You have no reason to be ashamed. And every reason to be scared. Quit feeling bad and just let him. He’s the person you’re comfortable with here.”

You smile, leaning your head against your shoulder.

“Dunno. You’re pretty cool too.”

She laughs.

“Yeah?”

“You know what would be cool. If you guys went to bed.” Eren says, shuffling into the room again.

Lana groans.

“All men have is the audacity. You just ruined a really sweet moment.”

You smile at Eren, which he returns.

“Can Lana sleep with us?”

He stops smiling.

“Huh?”

“You sleep on the left and she can sleep on my right!” you respond.

“Y/N.” he whines.

“Please? It’ll be like a sleepover. I can’t have bad things on my mind before I go to bed if you’re both there.”

“No thanks, sweet girl.” Lana says.

“I’m trying to lean on you guys! Give in.” you respond.

They both groan as they agree, the three of you shuffling towards Eren’s room. You settle straight into the middle of Eren’s bed, as they both shuffle around - loudly talking in Eren’s bathroom.

“Ew, Eren. Why did you just kiss my cheek? I’m not Y/N, idiot.”

“That was for you, Lana Bear!”

“What pervert spirit possessed you at this time of night? And you know how I feel about that nickname after what Hyla said to me at dinner, so shut up.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Lana. And I just wanted you to know I love you too. You’re like a sister to me.”

You hear Lana smack Eren.

“Were you eavesdropping? Asshole. I was lying. None of it was true.”

“Okay, Lana. Sure thing.”

“I’m serious!”

You shake the memory from your head, as you pull out the picture for her to see, one of you and Lana that Eren took. You’re both on his couch, your hands tangled in the bowl of popcorn - glaring at the camera. Eren was blocking your rewatch of High School Musical.

“Speaking of support systems, one of your most talked about relationships is that with your co-star, Historia Reiss. After seemingly dropping songs about each other and making up and breaking up, there’s a lot of speculation on what happened. Anything to share?”

You smile.

“Historia and I are friends. And friendship is complicated. You just got to witness ours first hand, that’s all. Everything between us - it’s water under the bridge, if there ever even was one. We’re just really similar and we butt heads. We still love each other at the end of the day.” you say.

“Well that’s lovely to hear. How about Ryomen Sukuna? The two of you are all anyone talks about these days, especially after how cozy you two were on the red carpet.”

You snort. And pull out the polaroid - of you and Sukuna, of him kissing your cheek at the awards show. And in the background, Nobara and Maki are pretending to gag.

“We’re not dating. And we won’t ever. We’re just really good friends.”

“Friends kiss each other on red carpets?”

“These ones do!” you respond, smiling.

She laughs, nodding as you tuck the picture back into the box. She swallows hard, rubbing her hands against her palms as she asks her next question. The one you know she’s been itching to ask.

“Look. We’ve talked about your career at great length - all but caught up to the night that you became a triple threat. But there’s one person that we haven’t discussed yet, maybe brought up in passing but haven’t broached. Who I think is relevant.”

You smile.

“Eren.”

“Eren.” she repeats, nodding.

“What do you want to know?”

“I mean, everything. How did it feel to know that you finally got him back for what he did to you, the way he dragged your career through the mud. I mean you basically had him hanging his head between his knees by the end of the night, after you ended him. Throwing his relationship with his brother in his face, the songs you wrote, I mean- that. That has to be liberating. To do all that and come out as a triple threat at the end.”

You can feel the tears spilling down your cheeks as you take your last picture out, one of you and Eren at Levi and Hange’s vow renewal. You’re leaning your head on your palm, looking up at him as he smiles down at you. And you swallow the hiccups as you respond.

“In what world did that night seem liberating to you? Making a joke out of the love I shared with someone? I sobbed my way through the entire last song. Didn’t even make a speech. In what world was that liberating?”

You see the shock spread across her face.

“I just thought-”

You smile.

“Since we were fifteen, all people have done is speculate about me and Eren. Are we dating? Are we in love? Are we real? Are we faking? And therein lies the issue, because I think the people, the fame - it came between something really real.”

She stops, nodding.

“Something real? Are you telling us that Eren Jaeger lied in his interview?”

“I don’t know his truth. Maybe it was fake for him. But I was there too.....And it was real for me.”

You look down at the picture, fiddling with it in your hands.

“I-I’d like to sing my song, if I could. I-I think it’ll help explain how I feel.” you say.

She nods, gesturing to the piano. You sit at the seat, sneaking out the vinyl sleeve from the inside of the bench and pull it out. The album cover is a picture of the cast from season one of Attack on Titan. You and Eren are front and center, smiling at each other instead of the camera, everyone’s heads going in different directions. Jean and Mikasa are looking at something to the left and pointing, Ymir is smiling at Historia who is disgusted at Connie and Sasha plugging their fingers in each other's nose.

“This is my fourth and final studio album, called The Lucky One. And this is my first song on the record, called happiness.”

You brace your hands against the keys, playing the tune into the air as you sing. The feeling sits deep in your chest. Your realization was simple. That Historia’s statement - that your Eren wasn’t the Eren that existed anymore - is true. You just chose to focus on the wrong part of it.

You loved Eren and he made you happy. He burned you down, hurt you in the way that only he knew how, but loved you, made you whole in only the way he could too. There's a deep hurt.

But there was great happiness. It’s why you forgive him. Why you choose to move forward, and hold whatever love you did have close.

Past the blood and bruise Past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would've loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind And there is happiness

There is happiness In our history Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight Leave it all behind Oh, leave it all behind Leave it all behind And there is happiness

You wipe the tears off of your face as you turn back towards the camera.

“Eren Jaeger is the love of my life. He’s everything you want in the person you want to spend the rest of your life with and more. He’s kind, he’s sensitive, he’s all too willing to understand you. Too willing to meet you where you are, as you are, and look past all the bad parts of you.”

You stifle your sob, the tears pouring out of your eyes. You glance back at the picture of you and Eren at the piano. And the memory sticks out in your head.

“I love you.”

You look over at Eren, his green eyes gentle and heartfelt as he takes your hand and squeezes three times.

“Eren, you-”

“I love you. The three squeezes - that’s what they’ve always meant.” he whispers, his hand warm in yours as me mimics the motion you’ve done a hundred times.

You swallow hard.

“Eren Jaeger is the love in the room. He gives people a chance, even when he shouldn’t. He’s supportive, so incessantly adamant about his belief in you, that you believe in yourself too. He loves hard, he loves soft, and everything in between.”

“He’s the best person I’ve ever met. Until he wasn’t anymore. And I-I don’t know what they did to him. If they pumped him full of drugs, if they told him something about this industry that I’m unaware of, if-if it was something about me. But this Eren Jaeger, so full of love that it was almost spilling out of him, doesn’t exist anymore. He was real. But he’s not like this anymore.”

You swallow hard.

“This career, the way we live in our fishbowl. It-it’s so cruel. You all enjoyed watching me ruin him. You all enjoyed watching him ruin me. You liked that we spent our entire lives loving each other and maybe loved it even more when it came crashing down. It was interesting to speculate on, to talk about. You saw the softest love in us. In him. And then gutted it out of him like he was a fish.”

You take a deep breath.

“And with that, I quit.”

The interviewer sits up, hand on your shoulder at the piano bench as the shock spreads across her face.

“You’re quitting music?”

“I’m quitting all of it. I don’t want anything to do with this. You already got to have him. You don’t get to have me too.”

You give her a smile as you turn to the camera, before walking straight off of the set and into the waiting room outside.

You sit on the bench outside, swinging your legs as you watch the people around you move. They’re all rushing to air the tape, which you expected. And making flash copies of the vinyl you gifted them, getting ready to post them online as the interview goes out.

Figures.

The only person who comes to your side is Leila.

“HI.” you say, cheeks burning from the tears and your eyes swollen.

She hands you the blue box, the one they hid behind the couch at the start, and shakes her head.

You give her a strange look as you open up the box, filled with a large stack of letters. You reach for the one at the top, opening the pages to find Eren’s messy handwriting scribbled on the pages.

Dear The Institute (I don’t know if you’re a person or like someone specific I’m just writing a letter to the address Levi gave me), My name is Eren Jaeger. I’m fifteen, the son of Carla and Grisha Jaeger. I’m going to be in a new show called Attack on TItan. But that’s not why I’m writing to you. I want to tell you about my friend, my best friend. Her name is Y/N L/N. She’s going to be my co-star in the show. You haven’t heard of her yet but I promise you won’t forget her. And I’ll make sure you won’t. Because I’m telling you now, she’s the next big thing. And you’re going to make her a triple threat. I’ll spend this entire time convincing you until you do. But she’s amazing. It won’t take much. You will hear from me again, Eren Jaeger

You pull another page out, opening up the crinkled pages, the block sitting in your throat.

Hi (Can you tell me your name? It feels weird to call you The Institute. Like that’s almost dystopian.) It’s Eren, again. Y/N is going to perform her song, New Year’s Day at the award show tomorrow. It’s her first one and it’s perfect. Like genuinely, who the fuck makes a hit song on the first try? And even after making something great, she’s trying to be better. She doesn’t like to play the piano, but she tries anyway. Every time I try to teach her, she’s hanging on the ends of my words, trying over and over again until she’s satisfied. She works very hard. I’m asking you to not overlook that. See you soon (and when’s your birthday? We’re basically becoming friends at this point.) Eren Jaeger

You flip the pages, again.

Good morning/good afternoon/good evening (covering all my bases, I don’t know where you live), Now, don’t start discrediting what I’m saying as biased because of the rumors. Granted, they are true. I adore Y/N with my entire heart. I love her with every fiber of my being. But that doesn’t discredit any of her work or how I’m vouching for it. Because she truly is amazing. Her new movie is coming out on Saturday and her album on Sunday. Quit being assholes and give her this award already. She deserves it. Really. My deepest apologies (for calling you assholes and for bothering you all these years), Eren Jaeger

And again.

Hi, We broke up. And we don’t really talk much anymore. But the fact that I’m still writing this to you should be proof enough for you to at least CONSIDER her as a triple threat. Like seriously. We aren’t even dating and I’m still raving about her work (because it’s that good). Her new movie comes out soon. She is all things great. The sun, the moon, the stars and everything in between. The light in the dark, every cheesy thing you can think of. Art is a reflection of who you are. And her art has always been the best. For the love of god, give in already, Eren Jaeger.

And the last one, despite being the shortest one, is what hurts the most. Dated for the day after the awards show, what you assume is barely hours after Eren was sobbing during your performance.

Dear The Institute, Thank you for listening. And for making her dream come true. Best, Eren Jaeger

You hold the letters close to your chest as you cry into the box, nearly twenty or thirty pages you still haven’t read. Of Eren, his messy handwriting, and his endless love for you.

His words ring in your mind. They don’t make any sense and none of it does. You didn’t have any faith in me like I did you. Your parents weren’t famous and you had no ins. I have to do something to offset that if you’re my co-star. I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.

You sit up from the bench and walk out the door with the box in your hand. You find Falco and Colt standing on the curb against the car, soft smiles on their faces as they push you into the car. And take you where no one gets to touch you, suck you dry, push you too hard, take what you love most away from you ever again.

Your most haunted memory sticks out to you as you drive away. As you feel the physical weight of this life be left behind on that piano and let him go.

The waves continue to crash, Eren’s hand raking through your fingers as you both look up at the moon, shining above you.

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Eren?”

“Have you ever been skinny dipping?”

You curl your nose in disgust.

“When would I have time to go skinny dipping, Eren? And if I did, you would have known.”

Eren turns on his side, a bright smile on his face.

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Skinny dipping.”

“Eren. Quit being ridiculous.”

He rolls his eyes.

“I just turned twenty-two. Like fifteen minutes ago. I am the pinnacle of seriousness.” he states, putting on his best Erwin-like tone.

“Eren.”

“Come on. It’s like a quintessential experience. We don’t get those - prom, memorizing your crush’s classes and waiting outside them, going on a date in the city. Let’s do this one.”

You nod as you both trudge to the shore, hands locked together as you quickly lose your clothes and run into the water, biting cold against your skin. The Seattle cold does nothing to help, the two of you shivering in each other's arms as you hold each other in the water.

“Ttt-this was a sss-stuppid idea, Er-rren.” you shiver, glaring at him.

“It-it’s ff-un.” he responds.

You groan as he pulls you into his arms, your face flat against his neck as you guys hug in the water. You can feel his heart beating under your ear and you pull back to find him smiling at you, his hair matted against his forehead. You reach forward and push it out of his eyes.

“Thanks.” he whispers.

You nod, giving him a smile. He’s all but grinning at you, the smile on his face so big that it’s throwing you off.

“Eren. What?”

“Nothing. You.”

“Me?”

He nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Just trying to remember this moment. You and me - being real people.”

“You sound like a crazy person.”

“You’re not a pop star. I’m not an actor. You’re Y/N and I’m Eren. We’re skinny dipping. And I love you.”

You turn your head to the side, confused by his sentiment all together.

It makes sense to you now.

Almost a year and a half later and you’re nervously running your sweaty hands against the pleats of your black dress. You half debate walking in, even though you flew all this way. If there’s still a place for you in this townhouse, even though you all but grew up here.

You can hear a loud chatter on the inside, voices talking over each other as you think hard, every regret of yours running through your mind. You wonder if they replaced you already, if your doppelganger is walking around in there.

As always, this is what brings you back to them. All of them. And you hate it. Because as always, they are the only ones who understand. They are the only ones who feel it too.

You’re fish. On the same side of the glass, separated from everyone else.

You supposed that’s what it does to people. That being fish, to some extent, was something everyone related to - not just you and Eren, Mikasa and Jean, everyone else who was famous.

This tears down things that were a resolute fact - bringing you to places you never thought you’d return, to people you didn’t think you would ever need anymore. A fishbowl - separating you from everyone else on one side of the glass, with everyone else - normal and whole - on the outside.

Fame can do that to people. But grief can too.

The news clip rings in your head.

Marco Bodt, best known for his time as a recurring character in the drama series Attack on Titan, died on Friday, five days short of his twenty-fourth birthday.

You brace yourself and knock on the door of the townhouse. Eren’s the one who answers.

next part linked here

an: lol. so does "passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long" still apply if he's dead....thoughts? also the lucky one tracklist

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp @gojojang @yookayyo @lordbugs @multiplefandomthings @iobeyfandoms @camilo-uwu @justanotherkpopstanlo l@mel-star636 @fvckingeetar @ttalgi

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ninsletamain · 3 months

Text

Fluffbruary Day 6: tie | embarrassment | dessert

My contribution to RebelCaptain Fluffbruary PLUS @quarantineddreamer's super ultra amazing fic addition below the cut!!!

The lines of code on the screen were no longer making sense. Somewhere between coffees 4 and 5 of the day they had slipped from Jyn’s grasp, gone from familiar symbols to something more akin to ancient hieroglyphics–as sure a sign as any that it was long-past time for her to take a break from her assignment.

Reaching her arms skyward–tight knots in the muscles of her shoulders and along her spine protesting–Jyn glanced blearily at the alarm clock that perched neatly on the corner of the desk.

Shit. Was that really the time? She scrambled to her feet, socks slipping on the linoleum floor, and threw her hair quickly into a bun. (Or what she hoped would pass for one anyways.)

Pants. I need pants. Jyn cast about the room, throwing the covers of the bed back, checking over the back of the roller-chair she’d spent the day–no, longer than that apparently–glued to, but found nothing.

She could have sworn she had at least dropped a pair of sweatpants at the end of the bed at some point…

Cassian must have tidied up before he left (the neat freak); she hadn’t even noticed. That happened sometimes: the computer consuming her when she was locked onto a particular idea. But it shouldn’t have happened today. Today she had planned to wrap up her coursework early, surprise him…

Okay screw the pants, Jyn decided, marching from the room towards the kitchen with all the determination of a soldier approaching the battlefield.

(If a soldier’s uniform was your boyfriend’s oversized, university sweatshirt and the fight ahead was the arduous task of preparing a meal.)

It took her more than a few tries to find everything–despite how organized Cassian kept his kitchen cabinets–but before too long Jyn was staring down at the black, glinting surface of a flawlessly seasoned cast iron pan and the looming depths of a large pot, a box of spaghetti, its matching jar of sauce, and an assortment of meat and vegetables thrown on the counter beside them.

“I’ve got this,” Jyn muttered to herself, eyeing the recipe she’d taped to the fridge like it might grow fangs and snap at her. (Or catch fire and nearly burn the place down as had happened on her most recent foray into chefdom). “You’ve hacked into government systems before,” she continued. “This will be easy compared to that. A piece of cake, or a pot of pasta.” Hopefully anyways.

She checked the oven clock. If she stood any chance of getting this done before Cassian (Impossibly-Punctual) Andor came home she had to start now.

The empty apartment should have been quiet, peaceful. Instead, it suddenly seemed impossibly loud, noises swelling in her ears the longer she stood staring at the array of ingredients and tools––footsteps from the neighbor above, the distant rumble of a washing machine next door, the clicking of the fridge beside her, all clamoring in some insane harmony.

The longer she stood there waiting (for what, she had no idea) the more power the sounds seemed to hold, quick to dredge up each and every anxious thought she had been so diligently shoving to the furthest corners of her mind since Cassian had told her of his plans to travel to Yavin…

When he cooked, Cassian always had music playing. Maybe that would help. Drown out the worry and the fear.

Jyn pulled her phone from the pocket of the red hoodie and tapped a playlist at random. Something upbeat began playing, muffled through the fabric as she tucked the phone back into the pocket, rolled up the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt, and drew a deep breath. “Alright, here goes nothing…”

Turning down the hallway that led to his apartment, Cassian smelled something…interesting.

He tried to pin down what it was. Starch, yes. Tomatoes, yes. Onions and garlic, most likely. But then there were other unexpected notes, the heat of what might have been chili powder tickling at his nostrils, growing stronger with each step closer he got to his door, and maybe the cheese he was smelling was parmesan or pecorino? The combination wasn’t exactly bad, just off–out of balance.

He thought for sure it was one of the neighbors; maybe Mrs. McCleod experimenting again–after all, she had stopped him just last week to ask him about his favorite market for finding fresh produce.

But as he passed by Mrs. McCleod’s apartment, he noticed the crack under the door was dark, a small pile of mail collecting beneath her welcome mat. She was probably away visiting her niece again. Which meant that the smell was most likely emanating from the door at the end of the hall.

His door.

Cassian tugged his tie looser, a warmth kindling in his stomach, a smile slowly spreading across his face; Jyn.

He’d insisted she should stay at his apartment while he was gone–enjoy some solitude away from distracting roommates and loud neighbors–but he hadn’t been entirely certain she would take him up on it. She’d given him a strange look at the suggestion (despite the fact that after nearly a year of dating, she seemed to spend more time in his apartment than her own) and returned to her keyboard, completely absorbed in the endless numbers and symbols flashing wildly across the computer screen at her command.

The reaction hadn’t been a total shock to him. Jyn had been unusually quiet ever since he’d first mentioned his job interview in Yavin. He’d tried to tell himself she was just preoccupied with the workload associated with the final semester before she earned her degree, but deep down he knew that she was likely asking herself the same questions as he was: If I get this job, what happens to us?

Cassian reached into his suit pocket for his key, twisted it in the lock, and slowly opened the door, his eyes tearing up at the overwhelming burn of capsaicin in the air. Dropping his backpack by the door, he followed the sound of hissing steam, music, and occasional cursing into the kitchen.

It had been just over a day since he’d seen her, but even so, Cassian had spent the plane ride home longing for the moment when he could wrap his arms tight around her again, kiss her until they were both oxygen deprived and gasping for air.

He’d envisioned a quick, eager reunion. Unable to hold himself back from rushing towards her; clumsy, grabbing hands and awkward clashing of teeth.

But then he saw her: standing in his kitchen with her hair wild atop her head, dancing from the stovetop to a nearby drawer; humming along to the song playing faintly in the background as she poked uncertainly at a pan of sauteed vegetables and shot a quick glance at a boiling pot of water–and all he could think to do was lean his shoulder into the doorframe and stare, his breath catching in his chest with a fierce and sudden ache.

Cassian knew he was helplessly, hopelessly lost–had known it for a while–but it had never been more apparent to him than in that moment, hovering at the threshold. He was certain that if he did nothing else for the rest of life but watch her, he’d still die the happiest man on earth.

She’d decided to borrow his favorite sweatshirt while he was away–red, well-worn, with Ferrix University emblazoned across the front. As she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the spice cabinet, the bottom of the sweatshirt rose too, revealing the faintest glimpse of black panties, serving in sharp contrast to the perfect, pale curve of her ass.

The sight inspired a different kind of ache. Cassian made his way across the kitchen, and placed his hands on Jyn’s shoulders. Somehow, the only words he could seem to find were, “You’re cooking.”

A string of swear words fell out of her mouth in quick succession. “I could’ve stabbed you,” she grumbled, even as she set down the knife she was holding to lean backwards into him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that.”

“I’m surprised I managed to.”

He felt her shoulders rise and fall against him. “I was distracted.”

“I can see that,” he mused. “You’re cooking. You hate cooking.”

He could just make out the faint flush that rose in Jyn’s cheeks as she glanced back at him, her hair tickling his chin. “I do hate it,” she agreed, “but I figured you’d be hungry and…well, I don’t hate you.”

A soft laugh escaped him, “What a relief.”

“Shut up.”

“No really,” he said, pulling her closer. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Do you want food or not?” Her scowl was made significantly less believable by the smile catching quickly at the corners of her mouth.

Cassian gave a considerate hum. His stomach had been rumbling as he stepped off the plane, but now a different kind of hunger was taking hold. His skin was hot beneath his suit where Jyn’s body pressed against his own; all he could seem to think of was her in his sweatshirt–in only his sweatshirt.

But Jyn seized his brief lapse of silence as an opportunity to change subjects. “So…How’d the interview go?” she asked lightly, though her muscles went tight as she dipped a wooden spoon in the red liquid that bubbled on the stove in front of her.

He watched as she blew steam away from the spoon before bringing it to her mouth to taste and wincing. “The interview was fine,” he murmured, pressing (what he hoped she would as) a reassuring kiss to the top of her head.

The smile had already vanished from Jyn’s face. “You think you got the job then?”

Cassian moved his hand slowly up and down her arm, earlier ideas already forgotten. “They made me an offer,” he admitted quietly.

“They did…” The energy seemed to have drained straight out of her–the dancing, humming, swearing woman from moments ago turned to shadow.

Like she didn’t know. Like she couldn’t feel the frantic stuttering of his heart where his chest pressed between her shoulders blades. Like she couldn’t sense him, standing right here beside her on the knife’s edge.

“I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet,” he told her. Of course I did. As though there had been anything else he could do…

“You did what?” Jyn twisted in his arms. “That is your dream job. You know you want to go, so just go. Why would you–”

“Jyn,” he cut in, and she went still–let him hold her in place for at least a moment longer while he continued. “I said yet. I told them I couldn’t give them an answer yet.”

Her knuckles were white, wrapped tight around the wooden spoon. He reached past her and switched off the burners before anything could start smoking or boil over.

Cassian’s own nerves were starting to take hold. He gave a hard swallow, trying to clear the tightness from his throat. “I don’t want to go to Yavin. Not without you… I don’t want to go anywhere without you.”

“What are you saying?”

“Come with me. After you graduate in the spring, come with me.”

“Cass…”

He was about to tell her she didn’t have to answer right now–to delay whatever pain he sensed was coming from inevitable rejection–when she closed her hand around his tie and tugged him closer, tilting her head back to press her lips to his.

Beneath his mouth, he could feel her smile forming, but it still took his breath away to see it when they broke apart. “Is that a yes, then?”

Jyn wound his tie tighter around her hand. “I like this suit,” she commented, eyes sweeping across the blue fabric and back to the black silk of the tie.

“I’m taking that as a yes…” Cassian told her, his attention splitting as she began to playfully undo the top buttons of his shirt.

“I cooked for you…” Her lips passed over his throat, her voice muffled.

Heat was racing up Cassian’s spine, his thoughts going increasingly hazy. “You did…” he replied, inhaling sharply as the hand not wrapped in his tie found the back of his head, fingers tugging lightly at his hair.

“I’m a terrible cook, but I cooked. For you.”

She still hadn’t answered him. Not really. He wanted an answer, a definitive answer. “What does this have to do with–”

“Are you still hungry?”

“Jyn–” he pleaded.

“Because I was thinking we should forget about the food,” she continued, her mouth brushing over his ear–words like sparks to his skin. “I changed my mind. There’s something else I want to do for you instead. Something I’m much, much better at…”

He relented slightly, instinct shoving reason aside as he tugged at the hem of the sweatshirt, her skin soft against his fingertips. “What did you have in mind?”

“You mean, aside from moving to Yavin?” she murmured with a teasing grin, pressing even closer, tips of their noses brushing, her breath warm against his cheeks.

“So that was a yes earlier…”

Jyn rolled her eyes at him. “What do you think?”

He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed, wrapping her legs tight around his torso. “I think you’re coming to Yavin with me,” he said, slightly breathless, not quite daring to believe it.

“I’m coming to Yavin with you,” she echoed, delivering a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Welcome home, Cassian.”

#myworks #fluffbruary #fluffbruary 2023 #rebelcaptain #jyn erso #cassian andor #modern au

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j0hnj4ej3n · 6 months

Text

08:02 p.m.

note: was being so delusional after mark came onto bubble & then did an instagram live to spend mark o'clock with us, and after declaring that he misses us and wants us to know AAAAAAKKK he's so crazy for that!!!! this man has me soooo delusional. so i thought of this little something because he looks so gorgeous today and i've been really busy these few weeks due to submissions~~ hope yall enjoy <3

(not proofread, i wrote this impulsively in less than an hour)

mark: are we still meeting to study at the cafe after your lecture tmr? y/n: yes! my lecture ends at 730~ mark: alright, i’ll wait for you so we can walk to the cafe tgt? y/n: okayy sounds good

That was the texts you had with Mark last night. And as promised, once your lecture was done, Mark was already outside your lecture hall waiting for you.

To be very honest, the two of you haven’t been friends for very long, having only met through a writing class last semester. But two weeks ago, you bumped into Mark at this newly opened 24-hour cafe just off campus.

It’s crunch time now that finals are around the corner so the library is always packed. And the corner seat you love so much on the third floor is always occupied by this one freshman and his group of friends. So you were hoping this cafe was new and quiet enough to be your place to study for this time of the semester.

When you got there, you found Mark, nose deep in his lecture notes studying with his wired earphones plugged in. You decided to greet him merely out of being polite, since you haven’t seen him around recently. But Mark seemed excited to see you and even invited you to study with him.

So here you two are again, routinely studying your Tuesday (and Friday) nights away together since that fateful day two weeks ago.

Well, at least Mark is studying.

To be fair, you’ve always found Mark cute. Since he asked if he could share your table in class last semester, you took note of how attractive your classmate is. His round, starry eyes and high cheekbones. His sweet smile that appears oh, so often. Better yet, he has one of the cutest and most contagious laughters you’ve ever heard. But you never took it as anything too serious. Mark has always been cute, but you didn’t really know the guy outside of class.

These two weeks however, have made you acutely aware of how wonderful Mark really is as a person. He was diligent and intelligent, yet so humble about it all, refusing to slack just because he’s already getting good grades. Mark is attentive, if he notices you struggling, he takes the initiative to ask if you need help. And doesn’t mock you or make you feel small for not understanding something.

He’s also just really sweet. You firmly believe Mark could befriend anyone and everyone. There’s just something about him that makes those around him feel comfortable. Like, you don’t have to put up a front when you’re with Mark because he won’t judge you. Instead he embraces all of you and is genuinely interested in everything you say, even if he has differing opinions.

Being around Mark is easy. And the longer you stare at him, the more you realise that Mark isn’t just cute. He’s gorgeous.

And you hate to admit it to yourself, but you’re definitely falling for Mark Lee.

“Hello? Earth to y/n…?”

You can only bring yourself to blink back at Mark, who’s waving his hand in front of your face. Have you been staring at him all this time?

“Oh, I’m sorry… were you saying something?”

Mark chuckles, shaking his head. He looks down almost shyly, then lifts his head up to look at you again.

“You’ve just been staring at me for a while, I was starting to wonder if I had something on my face.”

You want the ground to swallow you up. To be honest, you have not been getting any revision done tonight because the only real studying you’ve been doing is of Mark’s pretty face. And it’s embarrassing because he caught you.

You can’t help but feel the embarrassment creep up on you, feeling the blood rush to your head. You cover your face with your hands and all Mark does is let out a quiet laugh. He really isn’t laughing at you though, he simply thinks you’re really endearing.

“Sorry… I didn’t mean to stare.” You pause, thinking of an excuse as you lift your head, “The lecture really butchered my brain, I was just daydreaming for a bit.”

“It’s okay, you just seemed so happily deep in thought. It was kinda cute,” Mark says, so casually as he returns his attention back to his notes, you almost miss his subtle compliment at the end. Did he just call you cute?

He looks up at you again, smiling sweetly. “We don’t have to stay too late tonight if you’re tired.”

You shake your head, “It’s fine, I’m good now.”

You really are not, because your heart is thumping so loudly against your chest over a simple smile from Mark. And your mind doesn’t focus on anything that isn’t Mark. But if you pretend well enough, if you control your urge to just stare at Mark for way too long… maybe you’ll get to spend a few more hours alone with Mark right here in this cosy, quiet cafe.

#nct mark #mark lee #mark fluff #mark lee scenarios #j0hnj4ej3n

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mncxbe · 6 months

Note

Hi, I really like your work, you are very reverent and diligent with each submission. I would also like to ask you to write a story where the reader gained weight and started to feel insecure in society, relationship with her boyfriend ( could it be Chuya, Dazai, Fedor?). Thank you so much. I hope I got the message across. Have a great week!

anon you're so polite omg- I love this idea hhh. Hope you like it♡♡

10:43♡

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉ū𝒚𝒂, 𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: light angst/ fluff♡

𝑻𝑾: mentions of eating disorders and poor body image

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

this man does not care about your weight. like at all; he thinks you're beautiful either way

that's why he's so surprised when you tell him you're insecure

he hears you out and tries his best to soothe you

from then on he's really supportive and always reassures you that gaining a few pounds doesn't make you less worthy in his eyes

secretely keeps track of how much you eat because he doesn't want you to neglect your diet or develop an eating disorder

"Bella..." he sighed as soon as you were done talking. For the first time since the two of you started dating, Dazai looked hurt, chocolate brown eyes shadowed with sorrow.

His sad expression only worsened your mood. Your breath hitched, words stuck at the back of your throat as you felt the tears pooling at your lashline.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have said all that. It's stupid" you muttered, averting your gaze from his but he quickly hooked a finger under your chin, making you face him.

"My love I'm not mad at you for telling me that. I just... wish you'd told me sooner"

Indeed, during the past few weeks Dazai had noticed your unusual behaviour; you weren't that affectionate towards him, always spending hours on end in front of the mirror, checking yourself out, eating less. At first, Dazai assumed that your appetite reduced because of the high temperatures during summer; after all, he himself ate less during those months, but when you refused to shower or sleep with him he knew something was wrong.

So he sat you down on the couch and asked you what it was all about. You hesitantly told him about how you've started feeling self conscious about your body, how you've gained weight and struggled to lose it, to be the pretty for him.

As you spoke, you noticed Dazai's expression slowly darken. He couldn't comprehend what you were saying. You, ugly? You, his sweet girl, not feeling worthy of his love just because you gained a few pounds? You, starving yourself every day because you thought he'd rather have you not eating than being chubby?

Despite how much your words affected him, this wasn't about him; so he wiped every trace of sadness from his expression and smiled.

"I wish you'd told me sooner. I could've helped you, you know?" he continued

"But how? Really Dazai this isn't your fault. You can't help me with this" you sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand; which caused a mellow laughter to roll past your boyfriend's lips.

His hand slid up your cheek, thumb lightly tracing over your cheekbone as he held your gaze.

"I know bella, but I could've reminded you that to me you're the most beautiful woman. If you wanna get back in shape that's alright, but don't put too much pressure on yourself, ok?"

You gave a weak nod and his smile widened. Kissing your tears away, his arms snaked around your frame, pulling you flush against him. Your head came to rest against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Thank you Osamu. I think really needed you to say that" you eventually spoke up and he chuckled, gently threading his fingers through your hair.

"Anytime bella, Anytime"

𝑪𝒉ū𝒚𝒂

just like his partner in crime, Chuya is also surprised when you confess you're insecure about your weight

he starts rambling on about how today's society pushes unrelalistic beauty standars on women and all that

threatens to "deal with" whoever calls you fat or makes you feel self conscious about your weight

but after he calms down a bit he reminds you that you're gorgeous either way

like hell, he even likes you more like this honestly. he adores your curves

It's been around half an hour since your boyfriend started his diatribe and he showed no sign of stopping. What started off as a simple conversation- you telling him that you've developed an insecurity abour weight- ended up with him ranting and raving about beauty standards and how low society has become.

"Seriously now, it's fucked up" he decalred as he downed the last sips of wine; red liquid tinting his lips crimson. "I mean, really. You're absolutely stunning as you are. You don't need to look like those models in magazines."

"I don't want that Chuu I just..." you stammered, fumbling for words.

"I know sweetie. You wanna lose a few pounds and if you really want that I'll support you. After all, it's kinda my fault you gained weight, right?" he asked with a chuckle "Considering all the dinners I took you to..."

His comment lightened the mood, a little smile creeping on your face. "You know it's not your fault honey, really. I just need to be more careful with what I eat in general"

Chuuya sighed, placing the empty glass on a table nearby. He took your hand in his, fingers gently intertwining with yours. "Look sweetie, if you wanna lose weight it's ok. But please know you don't need to do this to be beautiful, because you already are. You're my pretty girl"

A gentle smile rose to his lips as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead. "And if anyone else tells you that you're not I'll personally teach them a lesson. You can count on me sugar."

His tender words managed to soothe your soul a bit so you nodded, returning the smile.

"You know Chuu, you don't have to go that far"

"I'll go as far as you want me to baby"

For a brief moment, his cloudy gaze slid down your body, taking in your frame; sparkling. His arm snaked around the small of your back, pulling you closer as his wine tinged lips found the crook of your neck, tracing idle kisses along your skin. You gasped lightly at the sudden closeness, causing your boyfriend to chuckle.

"Now lemme show you exactly how much I adore you, sweetheart"

𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓

he's actually the one who brings up the subject of your weight

he notices that you've been more reserved lately, that you haven't eaten that much so he asks you to talk about it

and when you tell him you're insecure about the weight you gained he thinks it's utterly ridiculous

naturally, he doesn't voice his thoughts, not wanting to make you feel worse than you do already

instead, he takes your hand in his and kisses it gently and reassures you that to him you'll always be the most beautiful woman. so you needn't worry about gaining weight

The cup of steaming tea stood untouched on the nightstand, lavender steam raising from its surface. Beside you on the silky sheets, your partner sighed.

"So... myshka. Are you going to tell me what's going on or do you plan on keeping it to yourself?"

You shrugged, still not facing him. "What do you mean? Everything is alright my dear"

Your voice feigned nonchalance but Fyodor caught the faint trace of worry; he shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"Come on now, don't be difficult. I know you and I can tell when something's wrong, so please talk to me" his breath fanned over the shell of your ear, comforting, as his hand traced over your hip.

He could feel your body tense under his touch and he reluctantly pulled his hand away. "Please myshka"

He sounded defeated, sadness lacing his voice. Guilt started seeping into your soul and you finally turned around to face him.

"Look, it's nothing just... one of my colleagues at work pointed out that I got a bit fat and it's been on my mind"

A faint chuckle rolled past your boyfriend's lips upon hearing your words. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, he pulled you closer to his frame.

"Oh you silly girl" he smiled, fingers gently lacing in your hair "You really got upset over something like that?"

A faint blush tinted your cheeks and you hid your face against his chest. "Don't laugh at me please. I know it's silly but... she was right, you know?

"It's not silly my dear. I'm just surprised it got to you. And what if you gained a bit of weight? You're just as beautiful as you've always been"

"You don't have to say that just for my sake"

"But I'm not" he chuckled "I say it because it's true. Now don't worry your pretty head over it." He used a finger to gently raise your chin, making you face him "Just sleep for now"

Peppering your face with kisses, he squeezed your waist tighter.

His saccharine affections managed to lull you into a deep slumber; Fyodor always had this effect on you, gently coaxing all the bad feelings out of you as if scooping them with a spoon and tossing them in the deep blue sea to be drowned forever.

"Thank you dear" you muttered, lips curling into a mellow smile. "I love you"

"I love you too, myshka" he sighed, kissing you once again before closing his eyes.

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elliespeach · 11 months

Text

no chances part five | ellie williams

pairing: ellie williams x afab reader synopsis: you and ellie are on rival volleyball teams and after letting your competitive nature get the better of both of you, tensions are high on and off the court. warnings: i keep forgetting to add to this that i am totally ditching the way the game is played like i am rlly making up my own rules, their teams have gone against no one else lol ITS FOR THE PLOT OKKKKK just pretend!! as always, explicit sexual descriptions, ellie gets head, reader gets mouth finger combo, kinda sex in public? they almost get caught but in a hot way, car sex, they smoke again but its brief, foul language, mean!ellie in this part, mean girls make an appearance, and angst :( authors note: sorry

today was the last game of the season, tensions were high as the buses rode into the parking lot. ellie was parked in the far corner as she always is, she watched diligently from her car as your team spilled out of the bus. chatting amongst yourselves and ellie spotted you in the crowd of people, smiling and passing jokes between teammates. even from so far away you could see her as you turned your head, the spot in the parking lot being all too familiar as of recently. your smile didn’t fade but it went from friendly to snarky really fast and before you could stare for too long, you returned your attention to your friends and went inside the building.

it had been almost nine weeks since ellie had driven you home, the coldness vanished into spring and with it the end of the volleyball season. your teammates have noticed a shift in you since that night in your dorm with ellie. the normal level of your competitiveness with her had risen to uncharted territory and ellie wasn’t one to back down. despite the screaming fits across the court, the very obviously personal plays against one another and the overall hatred you both had against each other, neither of you could keep yourselves away from the other. it had become a ritual for you two, verbally assaulting one another to the extremes and then somehow finding yourself in the bathroom with her, or in her car, on the rare occasion in either of your dorms.

regardless of both of you admitting that whatever it was that you felt for one another, it seemed like that conversation by her car never happened. or maybe it was just lust. maybe it was just a competitive fling. at least that’s what you told yourself, or she would have done something about her feelings by now, wouldn’t she?

that first game after the night in your dorm had been tantalizing in every way possible. ellie showed no mercy on the court, spiking the ball on you over and over again only for you to return the same energy. you two had always given each other stare downs through the white net, but now it was different. you mostly stared at her hands, the same hands that had been inside of you causing you to breathlessly say her name. they taunted you without her having to try, and ellie couldn’t stop seeing the doe eyes that stared into her while you rode her thigh. and it felt natural when she had pulled you into the bathroom when the game ended, locking the door behind her.

you had looked at her innocently, as if asking why she had brought you in there. she rolled her eyes before her hands found your hips, pulling you into her, and she spoke into your neck, “you look at me like that all game and think i won’t do anything about it?”

and that was only week one.

the next week had been a particularly rough game for ellie. your team had won and it wasn’t a close game by any means, leaving her frustrated with herself and you found her by her car smoking yet again. “licking your wounds?” you mocked, leaning against her car as she inhaled the smoke, a devilish smile on your face.

“yeah, whatever–” she tried to dismiss you, but you came up beside her. you took the joint from her fingers and she let you. you hit it slowly, not breaking eye contact as you did and suddenly her sullen demeanor shifted as she watched you. it wasn’t long before the joint was cast aside and you were in her backseat, slotted between her legs and pulling her shorts down. ellie cursed as your tongue made contact with her pussy, relieving her of any stress from the game. her hands tangled in your hair and rocking her lips to the movements of your tongue, she couldn’t help but succumb to your touch and let herself come undone as you pushed your fingers inside of her.

another week would go by, another frustrating game played and you made eye contact with her while she sipped on her water by the bench. your eyebrows raised and it was seconds before she was making her way to the bathroom down the hall, you followed behind only a minute later. she leaned against the wall opposite the door when you entered the room, letting the door swing shut behind you. you didn’t waste another second, your hands snaking around the back of her neck connecting your mouths for sloppy, desperate kisses. she had picked you up by your thighs, carrying you over and sitting you down on top of the sink and spreading your legs apart. her hand cupped your cunt through your shorts while she left wet kisses down your neck, all of her pent up desire for you spilling out.

you weren’t able to conceal how good it felt when her hand slipped under the hem of your shorts, finding how wet you had already become. a string of moans escaping you while she rubbed circles on your clit and it was music to her ears. she had removed her hand, pulled down your shorts and was nose deep in your cunt when a knock came from the bathroom door. she didn’t stop, even when one of your teammates called your name and you fought to sound coherent.

“the buses are leaving, are you coming?” ellie smirked at the words your teammates had used as you caught your breath, gripping the counter you sat on to ground yourself the best you could.

“i’ll g-get a r-ride!” you had yelled back, eyes rolling and just wishing they would leave already, but they continued to speak through the door as ellie’s tongue was bringing you closer and closer.

“are you sure?”

without taking her mouth off of your throbbing clit, ellie slid her finger into you, causing your breathing to hitch and an embarrassing squeak came out of your mouth. “y-yeah–” was all you could say in response. ellie knew you’d have a hard time keeping quiet and it was all the more fun for her watching you squirm to remain silent while her fingers pulsed in and out of you. she brought her face back up to yours, still pumping like her life depended on it. she covered your mouth with her free hand, just in case they were still waiting by the door.

“you can let it out now,” she whispered in your ear with a slight chuckle, feeling your cunt clench around her fingers. she knew your body all too well at this point and you groaned into her hand as you finished.

ellie knew that she was playing with fire, but in any context you clouded her mind so much that she indulged any chance she could. whether it was a good game or a bad one, she started to look forward to what happened after and not so much the games themselves. knowing that at the end of the night she would have you screaming her name with that desperate tone she loved so much. it consumed her, you consumed her. she didn’t want to think about how you felt about it, obviously she knew you liked it as much as she did but was it her? or how she made you feel?

she didn’t realize you were thinking about her as much as she was. the week feeling excruciatingly long before each game and in weak moments touching yourself to the thought of her, whispering her name to yourself as you would finish wishing it was her instead of yourself. but you both kept up the act of hating one another, to everyone around you and even between yourselves. teasing, mocking and yelling back and forth became a game. who could make the other more frustrated before the final whistle blew and then taking it out on each other after.

it had been nine weeks of fucking till you could barely walk and now it was all coming to an end and you found yourself dreading the game to come. you didn’t talk to her about it once, fearing if you did it would all come to a stop but now that the season was ending you couldn’t help but think about what was to happen. you strode into the gymnasium, your team buzzing with excitement but your eyes were glued to the doors.

the whistle indicating the start of the game rang in your ears, and ellie was nowhere to be seen. your eyes scanned over the faces of the people on the other side of the net and her auburn hair was missing from her usual spot in the back row. she was replaced by another teammate and your eyebrows furrowed together, biting your lip in thought. you recalled seeing her by her car in the parking lot, so where was she now?

deciding to just let it be, the game started. thanks to ellie’s absence, scoring points for your team was easy as the replacement libero had no idea how to counter your plays. it almost felt unfair. it felt like seconds had passed and the coaches called for a break, but when you looked at the clock it had been an hour and she still hadn’t shown her face. during the break, you left the gym to refill your water and were met with a few of ellie’s teammates.

“hey, where’s ellie?” you couldn’t stop yourself from asking but keeping your voice monotone, pressing your water into the fountain and letting it fill to the top.

a girl with short black hair turned around from her conversation, looking you up and down. “we thought you’d be happy she wasn’t here,” she spoke with a laugh, but not a friendly one.

the girl she was talking to chimed up from behind her with a nasty tone, “yeah, i mean it’s working in your favor isn’t it?” maybe ellie wasn’t the meanest person on her team.

you rolled your eyes while you capped your water bottle. a sigh left you a little harsher than need be before you started walking back to the gym, feeling embarrassed that you even asked. but as your hands met the metal of the gym doors, your head turned to the exit doors at the end of the hallway. it wouldn��t hurt to check, right?

backing up from the gym doors you made your way down the hallway. you could hear her teammates laughing as you did and it felt like they were laughing at you, so you rushed out of the doors before you could hear anything else. the spring air was refreshing and even though it was well past eight o’clock, the sun was just setting. your eyes immediately focused on the back corner of the lot and her car sat idle in it’s spot, although you couldn’t see her anywhere.

you lazily went down the steps and into the lot, following the breeze all the way to her car. as you approached it, you realized it was on, the gentle hum of the engine becoming louder the closer you got. coming up on the passenger side you could see her sitting in the driver's seat, staring blankly at the phone in her hand. confused, you tapped on her window lightly and she looked up from her phone. your hand gestured for her to roll down her window and ellie sighed deeply before obliging. the window came down slowly and she returned her focus to her phone, you didn’t want to look but your eyes had a mind of their own and you could see she was just scrolling through twitter.

“are you gonna come inside or…?” you asked, your hand gesturing for you.

she didn’t look up from her phone, “probably not–”

“why?”

“because.” she said matter-of-factly, her thumb swiping up on her feed. she wasn’t even reading it.

“my team is winning, you know,” you teased, leaning down and into her open window, your forearms pressing against the uncomfortable door. you didn’t know why, but you felt like she would be receptive to your teasing as she always is, but again she didn’t even look at you, “hello? earth to ellie?”

“good for you guys,” her tone was flat.

you scoffed, standing up straight and pulling at her door handle. the car door opened and you planted yourself in her passenger seat, pulling the door closed behind you with a slam. she finally looked up at you as your body turned to face hers. “the hell is wrong with you?”

“nothin’,” she said nonchalantly, returning her gaze to her phone. your eyes rolled and you reached over, plucking the phone from her hands and tossing it in the backseat. “the fuck?” she half yelled, looking into the back seat and seeing her phone fall to the floor with a thump.

“why aren’t you playing?” you inquired again, peering into her eyes as they returned to you.

ellie pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a deep breath, “i just don't want to, okay? go back inside.” what ellie didn’t want to admit was that she was paralyzed with the realization that the season was ending and along with it, the fucked up relationship you two had. all of her feelings she had repressed for months bubbling over but she threw aside any thought of asking you out. embarrassed with how many hateful words came out of her mouth directed at you, embarrassed that she had let it go this far to begin with and overall she felt like that would be the last thing you wanted; to be with her. childishly, she felt if she remained in her car nothing would end and it would be like this forever. but time doesn’t work like that.

your tongue poked your cheek as you thought about her words, not believing a single one of them. “and your scholarship?”

she sighed again, this time your name pouring out of her mouth along with it, “leave me alone, please.”

“ellie, just tell me–”

“oh my god, it’s you,” she finally admitted, remembering a similar conversation you both had at the beginning of the season and now realizing why you were so adamant on not talking about it.

“you’re skipping the last game because of me?” you asked, almost disappointed in her. ellie felt a wave of shame wash over her with your words and quickly returned to being defensive.

“you got your answer, now get out of my car–” she yelled, motioning for you to leave, looking right into your eyes. your own eyes widened just a bit, a burning sensation building in your chest with her tone. she hadn’t been this nasty with you in so long, you were able to handle anything she said to you during games but as of recently, she had never been this mean to you. your shocked silence filled her with regret but she had already gone too far so she doubled down. she yelled your name, “–get the fuck out!”

your hand reached for the handle while still holding her gaze and you fought back the tears that threatened to spill out. it was obvious that you were, ellie could see your breathing pattern dysregulating and your blinking had slowed but it was most obvious in your eyes as they glossed over from the wetness. she had never felt more guilty than right now watching as you turned to leave.

you opened the door, pulling yourself out of her car and made your voice sound normal even with the lump that settled in your throat,“i liked it better when we actually hated each other–” you slammed her door shut, not looking back while you walked back up to the building.

part six

______

tag list: @robinismywife @gold-dustwomxn

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams angst #modern ellie williams

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cordeliawhohung · 6 months

Note

hello, how are you today? :D last time i checked i saw your requests were open so i wanted to ask if you could write a reader and cowboy!gaz piece?

i was watching western shows with my granny the other day (it's her pastime and honestly some of them are pretty interesting) and there was this part in an episode where a woman and her cowboy husband were doing the laundry together until someone came over to their house which was by the town and started to bother them and it escalated until the husband ended up fighting that person in the middle of the street... anyway, all the laundry that was up on the drying line was ripped and thrown to the ground in the tussle and the couple just look at each other after the whole ordeal and are just like...welp. more laundry again

but yeah that's sort of what happened, if it's possible, could you incorporate that plot with gaz and reader? it'd mean a lot to me and i think it'd be a little hectic but sometimes people find peace in all that chaos.

thank you!

oh my sweet sweet anon this idea rotted my brain and i wrote this in a day (: pardon any mistakes i wrote this half awake and sorry my brain was in the damn GUTTER the whole time but i hope you enjoy!!! thank you so much for this request it was so much fun and made me think about things i.... never have a;lskdjf

masterlist

You and your husband live a quiet life on the outskirts of town, that is until a misunderstanding ruins your calm day of doing laundry. At least your husband is there to help pick up the slack.

warnings: fluff! not much else!! core went overboard again! slight suggestive language. 2.6k words long.

Summers on the outskirts of the Rocky Mountains were always dry and warm. Blistering rays of sun soaked the fragrant sagebrush around you and you intermittently wiped sweat from your brow as you hung freshly washed laundry on the line to dry. The nice thing about the sweltering weather was that the unblocked sun and gentle breeze would make quick work of it.

Once you were half way through your pile, the familiar sound of a horse clomping their feet on the dirt road past your home caught your attention. After you finished pinning up one of your blouses, you paused and turned your gaze towards the road. Your husband, Kyle, meandered along on his horse not too far off in the distance. Grinning, you wiped your damp hands off on your apron before skipping off towards him. You had sent him off not too long ago to head into town to purchase a few things for dinner that night; one of the nice things about living so close to town was that errands never took him too long.

“You started the laundry without me!” he called out.

His horse, who he had named Cisco but you called Spot due to its domino-like pattern, snorted as they approached the gate you found yourself leaning against. Kyle hopped off in one smooth and rehearsed motion before he worked on parking his horse on the post. You innocently tilted your head at him as you watched his fingers diligently tie the reins around the wood. You watched the tendons in his hands flex as he worked, and you found your own hands busying themselves by toying with the strings of your apron.

“Figured I’d get a head start,” you explained.

“Head start?” he asked as he sauntered towards the gate. “Looks like you got half the load done already.”

You loved listening to him talk, and could never get enough of his voice. Not only the dark timbre of it, or the way he always crooned at you, but his accent. His family had immigrated from England when he was a young boy, and despite the time he spent in the American West, he still held onto bits of his accent. When you had first heard him speak, you thought it was silly the way he pronounced certain words, but you found it awfully cute hearing American terms from him.

“Sounds like you’ll have to make it up to me later,” you teased as he entered through the gate and closed it behind him.

He held out a small leather pouch and gently shook it in his hands as he approached you with a boyish grin. “Oh, was getting ingredients for supper not enough?” he teased.

You tilted your head again as you snatched the pouch out of his hands. You hummed as if considering his words. “I’ll have to think on it.”

Without another word, you turned around and began to make your way back towards the clothes line as you threw a teasing glance over your shoulder. Kyle stood there with his thumbs shoved in his pockets and a cheeky smile on his lips, and you weren’t oblivious to the way his eyes roamed down your legs, hypnotized by the sway of your hips.

You placed the pouch in the pocket of your apron as you approached the line again, and you felt the light weight of it swing around as you bent down to grab more clothes. Not far behind you, Kyle assisted in finishing the laundry, and the two of you worked quietly in finishing the mundane chore.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Kyle. Alright, more than a glance or two, but you couldn’t be blamed. Not when he was as fine of a specimen as he was. A proper cowboy, he sported a thick pair of jeans that hugged his thighs and a long sleeved maroon shirt. His attire was a bit more relaxed as he wasn’t working with the animals, yet he still wore his black cowboy hat to keep the shining sun off his face. Even through the fabric of his shirt you could see the way his muscles flexed as he shook out one of your dresses before reaching up to pin it on the line. The way his waist tapered at his hips should have been illegal.

When a quarter of the pile was left, the furious huffing sounds of a horse could be heard galloping down the road at full speed. At first you didn’t pay it much mind, as plenty of people used the road outside your house to get to other ranches, but when the horse started to slow, you knew you had a visitor.

Mr. Davis was a kind enough man, albeit a bit thick skulled and old enough to watch the birth of the world. Kyle often said the man couldn’t tell a pig from his own mother, and though you chastised him and told him that was rude to say, you knew he was right. You had once gone into town to shop at the store he worked at and watched him struggle to figure out how much change he needed to give back to you. Instead of holding down the shop like he was supposed to, he was on his horse, very red in the face and speeding towards your home.

“What else did you do while you were in town?” you questioned as you held a damp pair of jeans.

Previously unbothered, Kyle stopped what he was doing and turned his attention to the road. The soft smile on his face vanished and was replaced with confusion. “Nothin’ that would warrant him showin’ up here.”

Sighing, Kyle quickly dried his hands off on the thighs of his jeans before resting a hand on the small of your back. Even through the fabric of your blouse you could feel how the warmth of him bleed through into your skin. The two of you stood there absolutely dumbfounded as you watched Mr. Davis struggle to park his horse next to Spot. It was lazy and half-assed work and you watched the reins slowly begin to unknot, but he stormed up the path anyway, up through the gate, and started to shake his finger as he approached you and Kyle.

“Mr. Davis!” Kyle greeted, a bit tense as he took a few steps towards the man. “What can I help you with?”

“Help? You can help by returning my bell!” the man shouted, his hoarse voice hardly carrying over the distance.

He stopped just short of the end of the clothes line and he crossed his arms over his chest. Sweat laid in heavy beads across his forehead, and his breathing was far more labored than it should have been. His lips sat in a thin line and you noticed how his eyebrow kept twitching as he stood there glaring at your husband.

“I apologize, but I haven’t the slightest idea of what you’re talkin’ about,” Kyle admitted as his thumbs dipped back into his pockets.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mr. Davis snapped as he pointed his finger. “You snuck it into that bag of yours, didn’t you?”

Instinctively, your hand clutched at the pocket of your apron where you kept the pouch Kyle had used to store the items for dinner. It was mostly spices and small vegetables; certainly nothing that could have been confused with any bell. Mr. Davis must have caught sight of your reaction because he took another step forward in an attempt to walk around Kyle.

“Yes! That one!” he exclaimed. He held his hand out with the intention of snatching it from you, and you found yourself stumbling backwards. “Hand it here, girl!”

Before the man could get close to you, Kyle’s hand shot out and grabbed Mr. Davis by his wrist. The only other time you had seen Kyle that angry was when someone had spilled bourbon over his brand new chaps. It took ages for you to help him get the stench of alcohol out of them, and a rumor had started going around that he was a drunk because of the stench. But the fire in his eyes then was nothing but a small spark compared to the raging storm that ate up the sweet brown hue of his irises.

“You best remember who you’re talkin’ to,” Kyle warned. “That’s my wife and you’d do well to treat her with respect.”

As if the store clerk wasn’t riled up enough, being grabbed by Kyle certainly pushed him over the edge. He tried to wrestle his arm out of your husband’s grip, but Kyle was infinitely stronger than the rather fragile man. All he had managed to do was flail his arms until his hand caught on the collar of one of Kyle’s work shirts. Pins came flying loose as the clothing was tossed down into the dirt on the ground.

“Respect?” Mr. Davis repeated incredulously. “Awfully interesting of you to request respect when you stole something right under my nose!”

“Mr. Davis, please,” you tried to reason, “I’m not quite sure what it is you’re looking for.”

“My bell!” he shouted in response, arms still flailing against Kyle’s grip.

“Well, yes, but perhaps if you took a moment to breathe and explain-”

“Or your lying husband could give back what’s mine!” he interrupted.

“Alright,” Kyle warned, “that’s enough outta you.”

What unfolded in front of you was so confusing you didn’t have the words to explain it. Mr. Davis wasn’t an insidious man, by any means, just extremely dense, so when Kyle tried to drag him off your property, he did his best not to hurt the man. Though the man had nothing on your husband's strength, he certainly knew how to flail. Shirts, dresses, jeans; several articles of clothing flew to the ground as Mr. Davis managed to tangle himself in the clothing line. If you hadn’t spent the better part of the last hour or so washing them by hand, you would have thought the sight was a bit comedic. Instead you found yourself cringing at the awkwardness of it all.

Your only saving grace through it all was that another horse galloped at full speed towards your home. Clay Turner was the owner of the store Mr. Davis worked for, so it only made sense he was the one you saw racing towards your home. He was a fine and charismatic gentleman, but you had caught him sneaking fresh produce into his pockets on several occasions. You weren’t sure how a business could be as successful as his when he shoved his mouth full of his product any chance he could get, but you weren’t one to judge too harshly when the prices were so cheap.

“Whole damn town coming to visit?” you mumbled to yourself.

“Mr. Davis!” he called, nearly tossing himself onto the ground as he rushed through the gate. “Stop harassing these poor folks!”

But the man was still too busy tussling with Kyle to pay much attention to his boss. Clay shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small metal item that he held lazily up in the air. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a small bell; the type to put on a desk or counter in order to call someone over. Was this the item Mr. Davis came all that way to accost your husband over?

It wasn’t until Clay started to ring the bell that the man stopped struggling, but even then his eyes found you as he pointed at you once more. “Ah, so you do have it! Give it here this instant!”

“Oh, you senile old man,” Clay muttered. With more force than needed, he yanked Mr. Davis away from Kyle and shoved the bell into his hands. The man looked down, completely astounded. “Maggie’s boy snatched it off the counter, you idiot. Now get on your horse and get back to work.”

Burning red shame on his face, Mr. Davis looked up from his bell, to Kyle, and then to you before watching his feet as he walked back towards the gate without so much as an apology. Sighing, Clay offered the two of you a short smile as he wiped his hands off on the front of his shirt.

“I apologize for that delirious old man,” he said sincerely. “He bought a desk bell for the front counter and brought it into work today. Says it’s easier to keep track of customers while he’s doing inventory. As you can tell it’s… very important to him.”

“So I noticed,” Kyle deadpanned.

Clay’s face tensed as he glanced at you and then to the ground. A myriad of clothing was scattered everywhere with heavy amounts of dirt smudged into the fabric. On the front of your favorite blush pink blouse was a large footprint. You’d be lying if you said that sight didn’t upset you a little bit.

“I apologize for the mess, Mrs. Garrick,” Clay continued. “I’ll make sure to give you a mighty fine discount next time you visit the store.”

One short and awkward farewell later, Clay and Mr. Davis slowly faded away down the road. Dumbfounded, Kyle turned to face you with a small shake of his head. His hat had been knocked off in the midst of their argument, but had been caught by his stampede strings and rested against his back. A few buttons had either been torn off or came loose because the top part of his shirt was open, exposing his sternum. Glistening skin laid underneath, and you found your eyes drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Knew I should’ve gone to Clancy’s,” Kyle sighed. “Why don’t you head inside and start supper? I’ll clean up out here.”

Humming, you reached for him and rested your hand on his chest. Sweat covered his skin in a thin sheen, and he felt warm to the touch. Whatever irritation that had been on his face melted away into a smirk as he rested his hand on top of yours.

“What?” he teased, smirk morphing into a grin. “You asked me to make it up to you earlier, didn’t you?”

“I had something a little more fun in mind than you doing chores,” you admitted.

As he thought for a moment, your hand slowly trailed down his sternum, only stopping when you had been blocked by the closed buttons of his shirt. Kyle took the stampede strings from around his throat and grabbed a hold of his hat before quickly placing it on your head. It was a few sizes too big and fit oddly on your head, and you found your hands flying up to keep it on straight.

“How about we wait to have fun until we’re sure we won’t get any more visitors?” he suggested.

A part of you wanted to say you didn’t care, but you knew that if Mr. Davis came by again to pitch a fit while you were trying to spend quality time with Kyle, the sheriff would be investigating a murder. So you huffed in agreement before crossing your arms.

“Alright,” you conceded. “Suppose I might as well put these ingredients to good use after all the trouble you went through to get it.”

Kyle’s hand came up to your chin and tilted your head upwards. He placed a short, chaste kiss on your lips before diving back in for a deeper one. A part of you almost wished he hadn’t because that only made your desire for him grow stronger. It took everything within you to keep your hands to yourself, and you instead busied your fingers with the task of keeping his hat on your head. You still felt him lingering on your lips in a pleasant tingle even after he pulled away.

“Atta girl.”

cowboy hat rule cowboy hat rule cowboy hat rule

#gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod gaz x reader #cowboy!gaz

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sensitive-neuvi-enthusiast · 6 months

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haiii I was wondering if you could write a fic with nanami and a chubby reader with a big chest, I'm fine with anything so go wild with the fic :))

*sips tea* my first nanami request, giggles. All I could think when I read this was ceo!nanami with his pretty new assistant, so that's what I'm going with♡ it'll be a mix of fluff w/ nsfw bc why not? Hope you don't mind

Content: ceo!nanami. Chubby!reader. Sfw/nsfw. Mdni. Talk of titties, bj, slightly horny Nanami, smidge of jelly nanami, cum on tits.

Part two.

When Nanami first met you, he didn't really know what to think. A new assistant was a new assistant. They were all the same. He hadn't cared much for most of them. Now, that wasn't to say he was mean, but he treated it strictly professional. Like he should. Teaching them the ropes, giving detailed plans of what their tasks were. The usual. And for the most part, they'd done their job. Albeit slow, messy; he found himself cleaning up after them. Which ultimately led him to cut them loose. Earning a reputation as a strict boss who asks for too much.

But not you. You were diligent, punctual, tidy, kind.

After having you as his assistant for over a week, he could tell you were different. And he didn't have any plans on cutting you lose anytime soon. There was one problem, though. It seemed he had become... too, infatuated with how you did things. It was innocent at first. He found it cute how you'd chew the end of your pen when you concentrated hard on a document you were reading. Or how you'd always pass out coffees in the morning, unprompted, as you remembered everyone's coffee orders. How you reminded him, even though you didn't need to, that he needed to have dinner. You'd noticed he was staying late recently in the office and would always poke your head in. Brows furrowed but still a smile on your face. "Sir, don't forget to eat dinner! It's important to eat your meals." Nanami, of course, would always nod, giving you a curt thank you before secretly watching you leave. His heart thumps rather irregularly whenever you'd say those things.

Eventually, his thoughts began to...turn a lot less innocent. The first occurrence was when he saw you outside of work, a pure coincidence. You were in casual clothes. Showing a lot more skin than you would at the office. And your makeup was a lot less..subtle too. Nanami found that he liked it. A lot. "Oh, Sir! I didn't think I'd see you out in the open like this." You gave him a smile, and it was then he truly paid special attention to your plump lips. And soon, his gaze would wander. To the curve of your waist, the plush of your thighs. Your...assets, sitting particularly perky today. Or had they always been like that? Safe to say, he ended that conversation early with an excuse before you noticed the boner that made a surprise entrance.

And ever since that day. He's paid special attention, more than before, to every move you made. You chewing cutely on your pen? Turned into him thinking about your lips wrapped around him. Bringing him a coffee? Turned into his wandering eyes on your ass as you left his office. And anytime you'd poke your cute face in, reminding him to eat. He had to force himself not to ask if you'd care to share a meal. One where, preferably at the end, you'd be his dessert.

With his head in his hands, Nanami sighed. What was he supposed to do about this peculiar situation.

A knock came to the door. "Enter," he said, sounding exasperated. And of course, your cute self just had to waltz in here. Your curves especially on display today with your outfit. Someone take him out.

"Sir? Are you alright? I've been calling you for the past five minutes. You have a call on line one. Should I tell them to call back?" The worry on your face made him feel guilty. Guilty for all the definitely not safe for work thoughts he had and were currently having about you. "I'm fine. Stress comes with the territory." A lie. Somewhat. You pouted your lips-fuck.

"You know what helps me? A shoulder massage. I could give you one!" His mind immediately sent alarm bells. Telling him to say no, to decline. Yet still, he found himself saying, "If you're offering." You smiled wide, coming around behind him. Setting your notepad on his desk before cracking your fingers, and soon they were on his shoulders. Digging into his tensed muscles with astute precision. God, it felt good. Too good, he reminded himself. He shouldn't be letting you do this yet he couldn't find it in himself to ask you to stop. That was until you did, unprompted, with a clearing of your throat.

"Um, Sir?" You questioned and he was confused. Until he finally tuned back into his senses and that's when he felt it. The heavy weight of his dick between his legs. Hard and leaking, simply from your lithe fingers working at his muscles. He stood up immediately, running a hand down his face. "I'm sorry, this is totally-"

"I can help with that, too." He heard you say, making him blink. And before he could question you further, he watched you drop to your knees. Fumbling with his belt and buttons before slipping him out of his slacks. What was happening? He should stop this. This wasn't appropriate. But he didn't. Instead, he laced his fingers in your hair, helping guide you onto his length. Eyes hazed with lust when he looked down at you, your pretty lips wrapped so sweetly around him. How your tits would bounce with the movement of your head, really driving the urge to slot himself in between in his head. But that could come later. Later? He wouldn't-he couldn't.

Nanami swore, feeling you suck him with expertise. He wondered how many times you've done this. How often. And for some reason, jealously, slowly creeped into his veins. He had no right to be jealous, thinking of how many cocks you've had in your mouth before him, but it did. And it lead him to fucking your mouth roughly. Making a true mess of your mouth before he pulled out, stroking with persistence as he came all over your breasts. Marking you, in a weird way.

And he was going to apologize. His brain fog slowly fading but when you smiled at him. Seemingly happy with what had occurred, he snapped his mouth shut. Tucking himself back into his pants and offering you some tissues. "Thank you," you said. Cleaning off his seed, tossing it into the trash before standing up.

"Let me know if you ever need help relaxing again, Sir." And you said nothing more as he watched you leave.

He was fucked.

A/N: low key kinda wanna make a pt 2 for this. Thoughts?

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk nanami #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #lovelies requests

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c0smicp3ach · 24 days

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𐙚 ๋࣭ ⭑baked love- kento nanami

summary: nanami x gn!reader, cafe/bakery au, curseless au, fluff, first fic pls be nice

words count: 1534

By all means, Kento Nanami was not a late person. He was either extremely punctual or not attending at all. However, somehow, he was running a whopping fifteen minutes late to work. Maybe it was because he took too long to get ready. Or maybe it was because of the new employee at the cafe that caught his eye today.

Normally, Nanami would stop by his local cafe every Wednesday morning to grab a croissant and a decaf espresso on his way to work. However, when he walked into the bakery, he was not met with the usual mundane employee but rather a new, refreshing face staring back at him.

When you think of Kento Nanami you would think calm, cool, and collected. Yet the blonde salaryman staring back at you is far from that. He was a partially disheveled, blushing mess. Everything you’ve said to him had gone in one year and out the other. The only thing he was able to make out was the 3rd,

“Can I get you anything, sir?”

Your voice was genuinely music to his ears. Compared to his usually depressing and suffocating life, you were the air he needed to breathe. Regardless of this three-minute encounter, he felt like you were perfect. Angelic even. Returning to his senses a few seconds later, he could tell you his usual order, a croissant and decaf espresso.

He stepped aside as he waited for you to make his coffee and checked his watch. His encounter with you had already set him back five minutes due to his absent-mindedness when seeing you. If it was anybody else, he would’ve been back on his way to work. He tried not to, but watching you work completely had all his focus. Everything you did was done diligently and cautiously, which he enjoyed dearly. Even the way you, packaged the croissant was done with care. He likes to think that you did it just for him.

He laughs to himself at how delusional he thinks he’s being. Of course, you have to work carefully; it’s your job-

“Decaf for..Kento?” You announced cheerfully, completely breaking his train of thought. He hesitated before going over to the pickup counter, hoping he could strike up a really quick conversation with the end goal of getting your number.

He adjusted his tie and brushed his hand over his hair to fix any loose strands. He briefly thought about how ridiculous he was being. He’s known you for ten minutes, practically risking his no-tardy streak, all for someone who has only glanced his way twice (which is part of your job, might he add). Yet, he thinks it would be all worth it in the end if he succeeds.

He waited for you to notice he was there so you could hand him his drink, and when you did, you gave him a smile that he thought made his knees weak, fingers just gently brushing up against his for a literal millisecond. That alone caused his mind to go blank, ruining his plan of getting your number.

All he could do was get his breakfast and mumble a brief “thank you” before rushing out the front door. Maybe he could get to work quickly now that his adrenaline was pumping through his body.

He wasn’t sure how he ended up here on a Friday afternoon, but Nanami had convinced himself he needed to order another croissant or maybe even some more coffee.

Instead of heading home from work after a tiresome day, he found himself standing at the entrance of your cafe. He was a little disheveled since he was trying to make it there before you closed for the night. He honestly thought he wasn’t going to make it in time. He didn’t even plan on coming at all and was in the process of looking for a new cafe to go to, as he didn’t think he could face you without turning into a fumbling mess.

When he stepped inside the cafe, he realized how empty it was, with you, him, and another patron being the only ones inside.

“Welcome, I’ll be right with you!” You called from the counter, as you were still tending to the other patron’s order. He stayed silent as he waited on his side of the counter for your attention. He used this as his redemption to try to get your phone number again. He adjusted his tie like last time, looked in his phone camera to make sure his hair was presentable.

By the time you finished helping the other customer, he felt ready. Honestly, it's a little better than ready. Nonetheless, he didn’t take into account that you and he would be the only two in the place.

“What can I get for you?” You smiled. He started feeling his palms sweat, but he had to stay level headed. He didn’t even really know what he wanted to order, but he did know he wanted something he could talk to you about.

“Are the strawberry danishes any good?” Great! Perfect! He could feel himself fighting back a smile as you locked eyes with him.

“I haven’t tried them yet! However, I personally enjoy any of the croissants.” A person after his own heart. Truthfully, he doesn’t even care for Danishes very much. He just wanted to make conversation. This was going better than he thought.

“Interesting. Which one is your favorite?” He asked joyfully. He could tell you were a little taken aback, maybe unprepared for anyone to ask for your opinion on the pastries. He hoped you didn’t say the plain ones, as those are the only things he ordered from here. He was hoping you would recommend him something as sweet as he thought you were.

You thought briefly before deciding, “I think the chocolate ones are out of all of them.”

“Perfect, then I’ll get one of those and a small peppermint tea please.” You nodded as he handed you his card. Handing it back, you went to get started on his order while he went to go mentally freak out near the pick-up counter. All he had to do was say, ‘Can I maybe get your number please?’ It seemed harder than he thought, but as long as everything ran smoothly, he’d be fine.

Once you were done with his order, he practically bounced in your direction, rehearsing those six words. He took the small bag with the croissant from your hand,

“I really hope you enjoy these. I am slightly biased since I made these myself, but I think they’re the best croissants in town.” You said with a small laugh. He chuckled, so excited to try your baking.

“I’ll have to take you up on that.” He grinned. Your fingers brushed briefly when you handed him his tea, which had him feeling his heart race for the millionth time that week. All he had to do now before he left was to get your number. He felt his hands dampen again and his heart rate pick up. He was so nervous you would say no that he thought he would be sick.

“Could I maybe-”

“Can I get your phone number?” You had beat him to it. You practically fought back a smile, and he felt his eyebrows nearly lift off his forehead.

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” He replied with a grin. Nanami had never felt this way before. He felt his heart flutter when you pulled out a pen and a sticky note to hand to him. You’ve been waiting for him to ask you since the Wednesday he came in. You thought he was handsome and had a charming aura when he approached the counter. You didn’t think he would come anymore this week, as he didn’t stop by yesterday or this morning, so imagine your surprise when he came in forty-five minutes before your shift ended.

“I’ll text you?” You smiled as he nodded with a smile.

Although his plan didn’t go how he wanted it to, he technically succeeded in a way. When he got home, he felt like he had something to look forward to for the rest of the night. He felt a little uneasy as he wasn’t sure if you were actually going to text him or not.

He constantly checked his phone throughout the night. He had already prepared dinner, but there were no new messages. He was beginning to lose hope as he decided to go and get ready for bed.

As he was exiting the bathroom, he practically felt his heart drop through his stomach as he checked his phone one last night.

(1) new message

#jjk kento #kento x reader #kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #nanami kento #kento fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader

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yunaloona · 1 year

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Aonung x Sully!reader

reader is an amazing weaver And it’s Aonung’s of age ceremony and he asks Y/N for help with his ceremonial clothing cause he waited too long to make it and they stay up all night together making it…

~~~

It was late at night, you were drifting in and out of sleep in your separate marui because you finished your off age ceremony weeks ago, and you were finally getting used to being by yourself.

Obviously you missed you family, but it’s not like you won’t see them everyday. Lo’ak and Neteyam left months ago and that left you Kiri and Tuk.. well now just Kiri and Tuk.

Spending time in the Metkayina you got aquatinted to many of the people, a lot of them knowing you due to your amazing craftsmanship and skill in weaving.

Your mother calls it a gift from Eywa due to how diligent and fast you can get even the most difficult patterns down.

~~~

Being half way asleep you hear steps outside of your mauri. Ears perking up to the sound you grumble a bit.

Someone knocks on the outside whispering your name

“Y/N..? Hey wake up”

You groan recognizing the source of the voice.

“Go away Aonung, I’m trying to sleep.”

The boy rolled his eyes and let out a huff.

“Listen, I really need your help right now, so can you please get up?”

The genuine sound in his tone took you aback, maybe he really was in trouble and could use some help.

You raise up to see him standing in the middle of your Mauri, rubbing your eyes you yawn

“So what do you need help with?”

He seemed to liven up a bit at your willingness to assist him.

“Well.. tomorrow is my coming of age ceremony and.. I waited to long to make my ceremonial clothing.”

You deadpanned turning to lay back down

“Wait wait! Y/N I really need you to do this for me, it would be a dishonor to have not made them, I just need this one favor then I’ll leave you alone for like a week, promise”

You let out an exasperated grumble, but him not bothering you for that long sounded like heaven, plus you were lonely in your pod. Having company when you were already struggling to sleep doesn’t sound too bad.

“..mm fine”

He put on a pleased smile and set the materials next to you.

“We’re going to make an armband, a necklace, and a loincloth” he looked pleased with himself and the materials he gathered.

“Alright. Let’s get started”

You take the material

“I’ll make the jewelry pieces, you work on the loincloth.”

He nodded in agreement

~~~

It’s been hours. You both were dying of exhaustion. Weaving the materials was a lot more difficult in this state. Things that you could make easily in 30 minutes are now taking an hour do. Aonung wasn’t much help either, he didn’t really know what he was doing. You have had to stop and help him multiple times. Though you can be too hard on him, there is a lot that goes into these pieces, you were just upset he started so late.

“Why did you not start until today? Why wait so long?” You brought it up and we’re met with his eyes, he looked embarrassed to admit the reason.

“I thought this would be the easy part, I needed to gather the materials which seemed harder, I thought I could finish in a day, but… as you can see” he smirked at you pointing out the situation you both were in.

You rolled your eyes, going back working on the pieces.

~~~

You were finally done. Your fingers stung and your head throbbed. Aonung finished an hour ago and passed out on the floor, he tried helping but he ended up not being able to make it, which left it up to you.

You looked down at him, seeing how peaceful he looked, and warm.

You were used to cuddling with Tuk when you slept, she used to get scared at night so she’s always come to you for reassurance, and it became a habit of her to fall alseep in your arms.

The thought of being next to him made your heart race, but you quickly disregarded the thought,

How could you think of something like that. Especially with him. He was rude, cocky, mean, well you did like his smile, and his hair was nice, his body was very toned….

You sighed knowing that it was your tired drunken state making you think like this. You lay down closing your eye drifting away.

~~~~

30 minutes after you feel asleep, it wasn’t a good sleep though. You felt restless and anxious, something wasn’t right, you missed having your family around you, having someone close. Suddenly you feel something or rather someone against your backside and swing their arm around you.

In your state of tiredness you couldn’t comprehend what was happening but it was something that you were used to when you lived at home, you assumed it was Tuk not realizing she wasn’t there.

You drifted off again.

Waking up you noticed a rather large hand covering your torso

You freeze realizing who it is and start to panic. Slowly turning you see that he is still asleep

You let out a relived sigh, but he opens his eyes, your mouth slightly agape when you see this.

“You move a lot in your sleep, you looked really uncomfortable. But you slept just fine in my arms hm?” He was smirking down at you

You lightly pushed him back sitting up.

“Don’t Aonung.” You were embarrassed, but in all honesty that was the best sleep you had since you got here.

“Well, say that it’s me repaying you for your help.. if you ever need me back here I’ll do this little sleep thing with you.” He sounded kinda genuine, you didn’t know how to feel. The guy that was kinda a pain in your side but also very protective, confident, amazing on the eyes… your mind trailed off again while staring down at him.

“Like what you see?” He was of course looking back at you, but his comment made you snap out of the trance.

You roll your eyes

“Whatever.. go get ready for your Ceremony. You have a big day today, so go.”

Your words were not harsh and you didn’t shoot down his idea, so he took that as a maybe to his suggestion.

~~~

Him leaving the mauri he wave and thanked you again “Thank you yawne” with that he left leaving you speechless.

The Olo’eyktan’s son called you yawne.

You, not even originally from this village, pretty average.. you thought there was plenty of other women in this village that could suite the requirements of his mate… but you? Obviously you’ve thought of the possibility, but your relationship with him was kinda off. Seeing him almost daily when you talked to each other it was like bickering, your friends like to say you both sound like an old married couple. You’d always find him catching glimpses of you, when you did he’d always smirk or pretend like he wasn’t. You did the same though, mapping out his features, memorizing the patterns on his skin… but that doesn’t mean you like each other.. right?

~~~~

-mini time skip-

The ceremony was amazing, the pieces you made suited him very well and they looked great on him, and he got quite the few compliments from them.

After there was a party to celebrate. You were by kiri, talking to her about ewya knows what when a guy from the village comes up to you.

“Hello Y/N” You know him as Nash’vi, recently he has been trying to talk to you more and more but in the past Kiri has said that he’d pick on and never apologized and makes her uncomfortable

“Hello..?” You’re used to him coming up to you from time to time but unless he apologized or owned up to his mistake, you would keep conversation short.

“I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” At this point Kiri had left, leaving the two of you alone

“Oh I don’t know I’m not really-“ you were cut off by someone wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry but she already agreed to dance with me.” It was Aonung, your saving grace. You gave him a tankful look and Nash’vi walked away.

“Tsk” he looked aggravated at the boy walking away. You squeezed his hand catching his attention.

“So, we’re dancing now?” You gave him a smug look that he’s usually give you.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes

“Yeah, you know you want to.” You sighed smiling.

“Maybe I do?” With that he took your hand and lead you to the dance circle.

You both danced till you were tired and your feet burned. By the end of the party you could barley walk.

~~~

Going back to your mauri, Aonung offered to take you back, which you agreed.

You were leaning against him while he semi-held you up.

“Are we even now” he broke the comfortable silence. “Hm? What do you mean?” You looked up at him and he paused for a second, getting caught in them.

He thought about it for a second “..never mind I’d spend my whole life repaying you if I had the chance.” Again his words got you and your face started heating up.

“Y/N… can u court you?” Your skin was a light purple hue and you didn’t know what to say to his forwardness. He really did liked you.

You think about his request for a second.

“No” instantly he looked disheartened, but you weren’t finished. “No courting Ma’Aonung I’d love be your mate for life.. I see you.”

Now his face was heated, looking down at you he put his forehead to yours

“I see you Y/N”

With that you leaned into each other closing the space, and kissed.

#aonung #ao’nung #ao’nung x reader #aonung x y/n #avatar #avatar ao'nung #avatar kiri #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #aonung x reader #awow x reader #x reader

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writefightandflightclub · 1 year

Text

The light is blinding (Joel Miller x fem!reader)

Summary: When he's hurt, you offer to wash Joel's hair for him. Turns out there may be other forms of comfort you can offer him too.

Genres: character study; angst (sorta); hurt/comfort; SMUT. Joel's POV.

Author's note: I watched TLOU ep 1 last night, then made bad choices today in favour of hyperfocussing on this 8k Joel fic. I mean, this was sort of inevitable tbf. We've been handed a sad, scruffy, brown-eyed, dusty apocalypse DILF, and there was no chance of me not adopting him as a blorbo. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Joel, I wrote this in a trance so god knows what it says and I haven't spent any time on editing/correcting. Can't promise it's any good, but if you want to wash his hair as much as I do (lol) maybe you'll enjoy it, who knows. P.s. I promise it does get super smutty. You just have to survive the extensive internal monologue and many rounds of haircare first. (I'm just like that :P)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors interacting will be blocked. EXPLICIT SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, totally ignoring practicalities like birth control in the apocalypse bc we can); canon-typical themes such as grief, apocalypse, infection/disease, trauma, injury. SPOILERS - if you know the core plot points or have seen episode one you'll be okay. Joel's POV.

Word count: 8.2k

GIF by @joelmjller (Pls lemme know if you'd like me to remove this!)

How did he get here, exactly? All stretched out on his back, your careful fingers twining through his wetted, grizzled hair?

Well, he supposes he got here because a smuggling deal had gone sideways - like usual.

He got here, because he’s getting too old for this shit, and because someone precisely young enough for this shit had garnered the advantage just long enough to land a gun barrel blow to his head. A blow which then made room for all manner of nonsense, of course; like Joel being teep kicked into a desk. The desk - owing to its sturdy construction and deliciously planed hardwood - had withstood the blow. Joel’s body, however -far less sturdily constructed - had reacted far less favourably to that particular transaction.

Most of all though, cracked ribs and busted shoulder aside, Joel is here, because of you. He is here, because you offered to wash his hair.

Joel isn’t a clean man, by any stretch. Who could be anymore, with the way things are? In truth, he’s forgotten what it’s like not to be coated with a layer of dirt and smoke and ash. But apparently, even in the midst of an apocalypse, the dried-in, caked-up, days old blood matting his hair had left something to be desired.

He’d agreed to your offer only because - honestly - it was starting to itch. Because this time he truly couldn’t do it himself, the searing pain in his ribs seeing to that. Making sure he couldn’t quite raise his arm high enough or dip his head low enough to get the job done.

He’d agreed to your offer, in part, because he thought you would be quick. And - he now realises - you are being anything but.

You have him stretched out on his back, on a repurposed dentist chair. The worn, dark green leather creaks beneath him as he adjusts, positioning himself just so. You’ve installed a makeshift neck rest and basin to the rear of the chair, and Joel’s head is currently dipped backwards into the warm water, your fingers diligently combing through the strands to release the debris and muck.

You use a cup to cascade the water from the basin over his head, cupping it with the other hand to guard his face and neck from any rogue rivulets. Then, you ease your fingertips over his scalp, massaging in circles, being extra careful -he notes- around his recently closed wound.

Yes, to Joel’s dismay, you are taking your time. You are being so thorough and so attentive, in fact, that Joel even wonders if you will end up washing the gray right out of his hair - Joel’d never been wholly convinced that his newly-developed colouring was ever anything more than a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and ash.

You hum thoughtfully, a sweet, innocuous note as you assess your next step. “I’m switching out the water, okay?”

That doesn’t sound okay at all. That doesn’t sound done. And Joel had thought that this would be quick. Had needed this to be quick.

Before he can grunt an answer though, you are winding a towel around his hair, presumably attempting to save the drips from reaching the floor as you swap out one basin for another, setting down the one now filled with muddy brown water, and bending carefully to lift a second steaming basin of fresh water on to your makeshift plinth.

He needs to stop this here. “That’ll do,” he says gruffly, motioning to sit up -carefully- despite the pain in his ribs.

“Lie back,” you insist, the sound of your voice muffled through the towel wound over his ears but soothing nevertheless. “I’ve only managed to rinse out the blood and bird’s nests so far. We still need to wash and condition.”

Joel would protest more vigorously -means to, in fact- but the soft smile on your face dissolves him like sugar before he can do so.

He frowns though, for good measure. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“The quicker you relax Joel,” you sing song, “the faster I’ll let you out of my seat. Deal?”

He grunts. He doesn’t relax. He can’t relax.

“And,” you add playfully, as if reading his mind. “If you can’t relax, you’d better learn fast to fake it.”

Joel sighs deeply in frustration as he lies back, and you usher him gently into position. However, the slow, deep breath he expels does genuinely serve to sink him more deeply into the chair. Does force him to release just a jot of the tension snaking through his taut muscles.

You hum again, softly, in satisfaction, and he thinks he can even hear a smile on your mouth as you foam his hair with some sweet-smelling product, your fingers resuming their careful ministrations across his scalp.

It’s nice, he notes, unwilling as he is to admit it. Your touch could knock him out better than a barrel full of oxy and a bottle of the good stuff. He almost lets himself enjoy it - an attractive woman like you working your hands into his hair, massaging with your thumbs, your fingers, your palms. Applying pressure and sensation, even into the tight muscles in his neck. Loosening some of the tension at his temples. He even consciously relaxes his forehead, feeling his frown soften. Closing his eyes instead of fixing his stare on the broken picture rail he’s sure he could fix with a few tools and a little bit of effort.

He breathes more deeply as he closes his eyes, focussing in on the sensation of your touch. On the scents flooding his nose. Floral and sweet and fruity. It smells of you, and he breathes it deeply. He tries not to think about how his pillow will smell of you later.

It shouldn’t be possible for you to smell as good as you do, Joel ponders. You even have him wondering whether perhaps he’s not the only game in town. Whether there’s another smuggler dealing in contraband which hasn’t even occurred to him to barter with. Perfumes and oils and essences. He doubts that you would be mixed up in smuggling, but he doesn’t doubt that you are capable of far more than surface-level assessments might suggest.

After all, people only survive this long with one of two things: brutality, or blind luck - and no-one is that lucky that they’ve never had to dabble in the former. Everyone who has made it this far is only out for themselves.

Therefore, who knows what secrets you hide behind your sweet facade, Joel contemplates. Though, if he did have to believe there was anyone selfless left on god’s blighted earth? If he had to believe in someone, Joel would bet cards on it being you.

He sucks in another long, slow breath, and the scent of you envelops him all over again. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to believe in you. But it’s never too long before he recalls he gave up a long time ago on believing in anything. Anything except his wits and his fists and his gun, at least.

“That’s it Joel,” you praise as he relaxes - uncoils - just a shade, and the smooth tone of your voice slides right under his skin. The thought that you want to make him feel good makes him tingle. Makes him forget - almost - that he doesn’t deserve that.

Meanwhile, your deft fingers and thumbs continue to work nimbly into him, sliding over the contours and bones and ridges of his skull. Applying a warm, steady pressure against the muscles at the nape of his neck. Circling your thumb against a spot that sends a buzzing, suffusing warmth skittering down the length of his spine. Blooming through him - and, it has been so long. So long since Joel felt anything resembling pleasure that when he feels this warm honey trail down his back, an involuntary moan overspills his parted lips.

Shit. There's no chance that you didn't hear that.

The moan reverberates in the tight, quiet room. Lingers far longer than it sounds out for. Lingers, despite how quickly Joel cuts it short - clamping his mouth shut and hoping he can pass it off as a grunt or some expulsion of pain from shifting in his chair.

Your fingers halt, still tangled in his hair. “D-Do you want me to stop?” There is a heat in your tone, Joel thinks, the vowels and consonants warm and full like the pop and crackle of a hearth.

It's new. And it occurs to him, ever so suddenly, that maybe you are enjoying this too? Touching him?

After all, he’s not insisting upon it. Didn’t suggest it. Has not attempted to prolong it. And yet, you continue, working diligently. Soothing him. Freely offering your praise and those little, contented hums - those small, burgeoning sounds which make his fingertips ache to have your skin beneath them, so that he can keep on making your lips overspill with those sweet sounds of satisfaction.

Indeed, Joel’s hair has got to be cleaner now than it’s ever been. He’s been in your chair longer than he ever intended - and you don’t seem to be working any other angle. Don’t seem to be after any contraband that he can get his hands on. Haven’t submitted any requests. Fished for any information.

Perhaps then, you are enjoying him. Enjoying performing this act of service for him - though god knows why. Perhaps you are even looking down at his body right now while he’s all laid out for you in this worn-out chair. His long limbs stretched out, clothes tugging taut over his tight, muscular frame. Perhaps you like looking at him like this, his hair slicked back and away from his sharp face and his hawkish nose, watching the twist and pull of the muscles as he sets his jaw - needing to consolidate all of his resolve simply to resist your sweet, sugary touches. Perhaps you liked when you watched his eyes flutter closed under your touch. When you watched his lips part with that sound. That throaty, undone moan, all for you.

Joel’s not stupid.

He’s clocked the way you look at him sometimes. With this gentle, inviting hunger. The way you always make the effort to come over and speak with him whenever opportunity presents itself. The way your appealing body bends to him like a flower to its sun, as though he has anything nourishing about him. As though he has anything but darkness to offer.

He’s clocked you too. Has seen the way kindness and warmth dance across your features like a living, licking flame. Has seen you glow brightly too with a steady, constant fire, which he is sure must run hotter and more fierce beneath the surface than any would estimate. He had noticed too, of course, the swell and contours of your body, hiding beneath your clothes in all the places he most enjoys.

He’s thought before how he’d like to find out where the hunger in your eyes could take him if he chased it; but in the end he knows there is never any further to go than here. That every road is a dead end since the world ended. That the quarantine zone is the only place with walls more impenetrable than his own.

Still; he’s thought about you more than he’d care to admit. To Tommy. To Tess. To you. To himself. Has thought about the way your lips might feel on his. How soft and warm your body might be if he held it up against him. The way his calloused hands might look with his fingers sunk into your flesh, grabbing up handfuls of you like you are his daily bread - the very thing he needs to survive.

Of burying his head between your thighs for hours and trying to suck the impossible sweetness out of you, as though, somehow, he could then begin to understand how someone as good as you is capable of existing in a world as shitty and cruel as this.

He’s had darker thoughts too though. Thoughts of filling you rough and sudden - if you’d let him. Of burying his anger in you with every thrust, deep enough that he could attempt to forget it. Of letting you take his rage from him for just a few moments - as if it could ever truly leave him for a moment longer than that.

But of course, in actuality, he’s done none of that. Joel hasn’t pulled on a single one of those threads. He hasn’t unravelled.

Instead, for the most part, Joel has simply ignored you. Ignored you, because that’s the precisely the last thing he wants to do. Ignored you, because the safest option - Joel has established - is usually to give himself the opposite of whatever he thinks he wants.

That is… he’s ignored you until today. Until you offered to wash his hair. A simple yet towering offer of kindness in a world blighted by dark and rot. An offer that feels like more than he deserves when all he’s ever done for you is to give you the brush off. To answer you tersely, his aim with every interaction to have it over quick.

Still… he’d said yes. Or, at least, he’d declined to protest. Had nodded. Had followed you.

If he’s being honest with himself, he could have asked Tommy to help him, even if he was trying to obscure the severity of his latest injuries from his dear ol’ brother. Even Tess - she’d have done it. With plenty of griping, but she would have done it.

The truth is though, that he wanted it to be you. Needed it to be you. He’d gravitated towards you, even before he knew what you might be prepared to give him. Even without any trade to offer. For you, he’d unravelled. Just a little; in a moment of weakness. He hasn’t slept and he hasn’t succeeded and he hasn’t succumbed for so long, that he finally slipped. Finally gave into one of his wants. Finally gave in to what he wanted most. To seat himself in front of the warm hearth of you and to feel a little god dang comfort.

Joel opens his eyes, expression washing clean with a new resolve, and your fingers still frozen in his hair. He fixes his gaze on the broken picture rail. Precisely at the point where it fractures. Where it needs fixing. He needs a little fixing too, he thinks. He’s sure now, that he’s chosen the right tool for the job, when not another damn thing could do it.

“No,” he finally responds, his voice unwavering, blinking his bitter coffee eyes, sweetened already by your sugar. A gentle gulp sinking down the corded column of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

From behind and above him, he hears you release a breath as though you may have been holding one, tight in your chest, and you slide your fingers from his hair. “Good.” Good. The word rattles pleasantly in his chest when you say it. “We’ll do your conditioner next.”

And, for the first time, Joel unclenches his fingers from where they have been curled around the arm rests of the chair, clinging on to the lip until his knuckles had turned white.

This time - for all he can tell via his scalp - your touch feels a little bolder. A little looser. You even drag your nails over his head now, applying long, sizzling scratches which send that same buzzy warmth snaking down his back. You massage him more eagerly, blood flooding to his crotch as he thinks about having your strong, supple, precise hands work him in other places. He imagines, as your nails graze over him, how you might claw harsh stripes down his back in a moment of ecstasy. As your thumb massages a circle into the spot behind his ear, imagines how you might circle the soft pad of it around the swollen head of his cock, collecting up the glistening bead of precum as he leaks for you. Imagines, as you carefully pour a cup of warm, cascading water over his head, how he could bathe himself with the warmth of your skin on his. Imagines, as he hears the subtle wet sounds created as you scrunch sweet-smelling elixirs into his hair, how it might sound if your own juices were being coaxed out of you by his fingers until they began to drip, working down his veined, muscled forearm.

He allows himself to imagine everything he plans to deny himself. He at least allows himself to have that.

“That temperature still okay for you?” you ask as you lift the cup of water once again, fracturing his sordid daydreams.

Joel gives a terse grunt. It’s all he can manage.

“So,” you ask breezily. “Are you going anywhere nice for your holidays?”

It takes Joel a few moments to realise just what you’re doing. To twig. It’s a decade - shit, more - since he had a haircut like that, so it takes him a while to pick up that you’re echoing the banal small talk which used to occur as you sat down in the barber chair. Those memory cogs are stiff. He hasn’t turned them in a long time. He doesn’t want to remember that there was anything before. At least, not a lot of it.

Still, your bit takes him by surprise. It’s such a ludicrous contrast that it makes him laugh to think about how things have changed. Who can even go on holiday now? You can’t even leave the quarantine zone. Shit. Even if you could, you wouldn’t want to. And so, Joel laughs. He laughs and he barely recognises the sound from his own mouth. He laughs… and he instantly regrets it, because he knows better than to pull on any of those threads.

But; it’s too late now.

He laughs and you mirror him, the sound melodious and hopeful, and all of a sudden Joel can imagine everything he’s been avoiding you for.

He hasn’t been avoiding you because he wants to fuck you - not really. He’s fucked plenty of folk, and he’s moved on.

He’s avoiding you, because of how easily he can imagine you in a summer dress, twirling in the yard to show it off to him. How easily he can imagine you sitting on a front porch gripping your morning cup of coffee and the sun shining on your face as you smile up at him. How easily he can imagine you lifting a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven, batting his hand away as he steals one before it cools.

Truthfully, he has no idea whether you ever did a single one of those things before - before all this. He doesn’t even really care whether you did. He knows it’s a flat, idealised, empty picture postcard version of you.

But, even so, it still hurts.

It still hurts, because of just how easily he could imagine waking up beside you in his house.

The house that no longer exists.

The house with Sarah in it.

And that’s why he never pulls on that thread.

That’s why he avoids you.

That’s why this can never work.

Because you?

You make him remember all the sweet things. All the sweet things the world used to contain before the rot and the death and despair painted over everything. Infected it.

You make him remember the taste of fresh mangoes. The feeling of sand beneath his feet and waves washing over his toes. Saturdays at the mall. Picking away at his guitar in the living room. The easy jubilation of ball games on the TV on Sundays, with Tommy in the kitchen plating up chicken wings. Of bad movie nights. Of mornings spent around the kitchen table, and his daughter cooking up birthday pancakes.

That’s why he can’t ever start to be happy with you. Why he can’t pull on that thread; because all the good things in life are attached to it. All tied and knotted and tangled up with “before”.

When he dreams of you - when he lets himself - he dreams of then too.

He has to, doesn’t he? Because the past is the only place to build a future when the present is apocalyptic, isn’t it? When you are the only thing he hasn’t lost yet, and everything else -pretty much- is already dead and gone.

It kills him that he found you now.

Found you too late.

It kills him because Sarah would have loved you, and because he thinks he could have too.

You don’t know all of this, of course. You can’t ever know this. And so, your oblivious fingers continue touching him, until he feels another moan begin to spool itself tight in his chest, getting ready to unravel. This time though, he is less sure whether it is a moan of pleasure or of anguish. More and more these days, those two feelings have been starting to feel precisely the same.

“Can we move this along?” he asks gruffly, some of the weight settling back into his brow. He asks, predictably, for the opposite of what he wants. It has to be like that. There’s no other road anymore.

“We can stop whenever you like but… that’s a shame.”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because your hands had only just started to unclench.”

Joel’s heart clenches at the thought you were watching him that intently. That you were weighing the state and tension of his body. Valiantly trying to release some of that weight from him, even when you must be so heavy too.

And of course, knowing this, he only tries to push you further away. Before his dreams of you are seared even more brightly under his skin.

“You know what. I should go.” His chest constricts - throat grows tighter, a lump forming.

Joel idly wonders if his grief will ever stop feeling so raw. That’s the second disease, he thinks. The other monster infecting everything around it. The shadow of the original cloud. He wonders if it will always be this debilitating, even after he’s pushed it down as far as it can go. It’s not only a grief for what was lost, he ponders. It’s also a grief for what he can never have again. It's a grief for you and all the ways he could have loved you.

He sits up -carefully but abruptly, hand clamped over his aching ribs- and his wetted hair sends rivulets snaking down his face, his neck, his chest. Inching beneath the collar of his green button down shirt. Collecting on his shoulders like a pattern of indoor raindrops.

“Joel,” you scold, tutting lightly. Following quickly after him with the towel, trying to mop up after him. Hastily, you towel off his hair. Sneak your hand beneath his collar, gathering the drops up from his chest and neck.

With effort, and a grimace, Joel swings his legs around, until he is sitting upright, feet planted on the floor. But, whether for the pain or for the promise of pleasure - he’s not sure - he can’t bring himself to move any further than that. Especially not as you finally round from the basin, the damp towel slung over your shoulder, your hands and wrists still shined and wet from caressing his hair in a way he can only describe as reverent.

You kneel before him, drying your hands off and setting the towel down before boldly sliding your palms up his denim-clad thighs. “Joel. Would you just let me take care of you?"

He meets your eyes and finds them soft but determined. Empty of darkness, even with the black expanding abyss of your pupil eating away at the colour of your iris.

Joel looks down at your hands as you begin to smooth them up and down, inching slowly up towards his crotch before retreating - repeating the pattern. He looks at you in displeasure, but there’s nothing about your touch which is unwelcome - and that’s exactly the problem. He swallows. Gathers his question up in his throat before he offers it to you gently, as though in cupped, outstretched palms. “How?”

Your beautiful eyes flash with pity then, he thinks, or something like it. It seems like a silly question, but after all this time he doesn’t recall what it’s like to be cared for. He doesn’t know how to let you.

Your palm reaches up to the scruff on his cheek. You smooth it fondly. “Lie back,” you encourage, with a soft smile which seems to glow from the inside, like a porch backlit with the glow of home. “And just let me take care of the rest.”

Joel has always found something to fight for, but today, he has no fight left in him. In truth, he doesn’t want to fight this. To fight you. It is easy to give in to you. In fact, it's too easy. That has always been the problem.

Your hands continue to travel up and down his thighs, and he feels the warmth of you bleed through the fabric.

God. He’s already hard for you. Already full and throbbing in his jeans. Already, he is imagining your hands wrapping around the thick, straining mass of him. Imagining the way that -in moments - you may be unloosing his belt, threading leather through denim loop. The way you might pop the button keenly with your thumb, and he might groan as you relieve the pressure. The way you might unzip the straining fly to have his substantial length spring free, so rarely touched and so so ready to be taken care of.

At the thought of that alone, he’s straining against the seams of his pants, a pressure which sits smack bang between pleasure and pain.

“Joel,” you whisper softly, and he realises he hasn’t yet moved from his position.

“Right.” He swallows. He lies back. Stretches himself out, feeling far more exposed this time, even if he is still fully clothed.

You stand, quickly disappearing the basin away and soon you’re back, standing over Joel and watching him laid out all needy like this. His eyes travel over you, entranced by your form, and he suddenly needs friction. Needs the relief he didn't even know he was waiting for until you offered it - or, implied it. He bucks his hips up, not even caring if he’s being subtle, and the denim and leather creak as he shifts. He punches out a breath as he strains in his pants, chasing any morsel of friction he can. The feeling of his shaft pushing harder against the seam as his whole cock twitches for you. For those hands. For that plush mouth. Maybe for that cunt of yours.

As usual though, when Joel feels anything good, there is a familiar swell of guilt too; this time, riding in on the flood of arousal to his cock. This time, there’s something new to be feeling guilty for too. Something to add to that already long list. He feels guilty for having all of these thoughts about you, despite never having asked you where you were from. Before. What you used to do. Who you lost.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, before he even knows that his mouth is moving. Before he’s even figured out what it is he’s sorry for.

Truth is, he’s sorry for so many reasons. For what he’s done. What he’s lost. Whatever you’ve lost. For not asking you about it. Mainly, he realises, because he can’t make you any promises. None that he could keep. Not to keep you safe. He can’t promise you that.

He thinks you’ll ask him what for - why he’s sorry. But instead, you say something else.

“Don’t be.”

If only it was that easy.

Even so, he looks into your eyes as your hungry gaze skims the length of his body, settling at the bulge at his crotch as you drag your tongue along the pillow of your lower lip. You’re beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life and lust and hunger. Alive in a dead world; and suddenly, it doesn’t matter one bit to Joel where you came from. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It only matters where you’re going. What you want. How he can give it to you.

But it is you who gives him something.

You hinge at the hips, slanting your mouth against Joel’s, and he feels your lips brush up against the scruff on his top lip. Feels the pillow of your plush mouth meet his before your tongue fleets out, licking into him like a searing, dancing flame. You hum hungrily into his mouth and his lips chase you as you pull away, another backlit smile dancing on your face, your features already beginning to resemble home to him in a world where there's no such thing.

Joel watches you move now, with quiet fascination, as you kick off your boots. As you wiggle your pleasing hips, untying then easing your cargo pants and panties down your thighs. His tongue curls around his lip as he is gifted glimpses of your skin - although you are still covered to your upper thigh by the yellow tunic top you’re wearing - and now he can’t help but palm himself through his jeans for a morsel of relief.

Still. What you're about to offer him? It feels like far too much. “What are you doing? You don’t have to-“

“-Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” you promise, meeting his eyes, open and honest and ready to back off if he doesn’t want this. But shit, how could he not want you? Look at you - and so he can’t. He can’t possibly tell you that, even though he thinks that he should.

“No. God, I want you,” Joel pleads, voice hollowed-out with need. All spent, like ash.

“And you’re going to have me.”

You kick your pants and panties off, leaving them to pool discarded on the floor, and Joel palms himself a little harder, grabbing the fat roll of himself through the denim as he catches a glimpse. They’re nothing sexy, of course; but from the way they’ve fallen he is able to note the telltale wet spot on the crotch. It looks like you’ve soaked them through, and God he wants to feel your wetness for himself.

You ease over him, settling your knees on to either side of the leather chair, where Joel’s legs are stretched out before him, sturdy thighs slightly parted to accommodate the arousal between his legs.

You’re still wearing your tunic top, bright yellow like sunshine, and the length of it dances and clings at intervals to your hips and thighs as you move. It’s driving him wild that you are bare beneath. All he can think about is that warm, delicious wetness of yours spilling over him. God, he wants to hear it. Wants to squeeze it out of you. Wants it to drip down the veined shaft of him.

You straddle his thighs, knees folded, the soles of your feet pointed up towards your ass cheeks, and your heat settles just below his own - not quite grinding over him, but tantalisingly close.

You take a moment like this to simply look at him. To gaze into his coffee brown eyes as though there’s something more to him than being sorry and bitter. Like you could see anything sweet there. Anything worth wanting. Then, you comb his damp hair back with your fingers, drawing the strands back from his forehead. Tucking and curling them around his ears.

Your touch - your tenderness - makes him ache. Makes him throb. Makes him want to bury himself in you. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, his feelings - anything of him you’ll take. And, as he wraps his arms around you a wracked moan unspools from his chest as his rough fingertips find the soft skin beneath your yellow tunic. As his touch traverses the contours of you he’s always admired from a distance.

As his jaw falls open, slack with desire, you drink down his moan, catching the resonant sound in the cave of your mouth. Kissing him with a gentle yet constant hunger. With a red hot spark of deviance in your sweet eyes which almost makes Joel spill creamy ropes into his pants there and then. Your tongue travels along your lower lip. Your gaze drops, lust dark and heavy to the bulge at his crotch, and you unloop his belt with those hands of yours. They'll look small next to the size of him, he thinks. He likes that thought a lot.

“Let’s see what contraband you’re smugglin’ in these pants of yours, cowboy," you smile, and Joel's eyes crinkle with rare amusement. His face tips up with a lopsided smile which is quick to drop - all of him focussed on where you're about to touch him.

He twitches eagerly in his jeans thinking about how tight you will grip him, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead, you shuffle yourself back, down his legs, giving yourself enough space to tug on his clothing and to ease it down his thighs. Once his pants and his boxers have reached his knees you stop there, abandoning them almost as soon as his thick, veined length is sprung free, nestling all tender against the hatch of greying hair trailing down his abdomen - where his shirt is lifted.

He’s flushed a deep colour already. Veined and needy and weeping for you. His need becomes even more urgent yet as he thinks of your hands and the way they move - the way they might touch him. Take care of him. As he thinks about you sliding your thumb over the pearl of precum at his head.

Still, he is not quite ready for the feeling when you dip forward to slide your tongue around the head of him instead, gathering that salty bead with your tongue, lapping it up with relish. He feels you hum around the head of him, the vibration sending a zip of pleasure flooding along his length. Making his balls tighten and ache already.

He wants you. He needs you. He wants you with an urgency, and yet here you are, still taking your time. Taking your time to suck at him and feel him weigh heavy over your tongue until your jaw aches from it. To grip him in your hand and marvel at the girth of him. At the way he is so sensitive that every motion and shift of your pattern makes him melt into the chair, increasingly boneless, his brow burdened with need.

You are tender with him. Careful, of his injuries. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You touch him like he’s wounded; everywhere. His whole body. His whole soul too. And he is, isn’t he? All of him is hurting? Has been for so long?

Joel groans, his lip almost splitting from biting down and stifling his moans. He never was a vocal lover but God, it’s different for you. And this time, the sound punches out of him as you shift. As you settle your cunt over him and he feels your sopping heat glide along his length for the first time. It is a non-descript sound, halfway between pain and pleasure; and instantly, concern flashes in your eyes. You pause; lift off of him with a rise of your thighs and check-in with him.

“Joel. Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Are you? His breath is searing in and out of his lungs. Ragged breaths, jolting his pained ribs. You have him on the edge and so alight with desire for you that his need feels unbearable. He’s aching to fill you up. His face is contorted and crumpled by his need, brows drawn down, eyes half-lidded. But is this pain? Or is this something else? Something he has forgotten.

For a moment, then, he almost answers “yes”. Yes, because he doesn’t remember anything else but pain and so, the sensation he’s feeling now? Isn’t that pain too? Is there anything else?

He’s almost grateful when he shifts slightly, writhes against the chair to buck his hips keenly up in search of you as you withdraw so cruelly from him, his muscles coiling up. He’s grateful that the shift does indeed send pain blooming through his side; because he knows then, with certainty, that you are bringing him nothing but pleasure.

He’s grateful too though, for the pain, because a pleasure like this? A pure hit of it, not cut through with anything he's more used to? Joel thinks it would be too much for him to take. Joel thinks you are too much for him. Far more than he deserves.

“Joel?” you prompt, sliding your palm against his scruff. He hears it rasp like a scraped match. “I want you.”

You don’t want me, the voice in his head sounds out. I have nothing I can give you. But those are not the words that make it to his lips. Those are not the words at all. “Then have me, sweetheart.”

Joel may have nothing he feels he can give you, but holy shit he wants everything you are offering. He wants your plush, velvet mouth. Your smooth thighs. He wants the pooling slick between your legs - and for once, just this once, he intends to allow himself to satisfy his needs.

He figures he will simply owe you a debt. Find something that you want or need and acquire it for you. He simply has to think of this like a transaction, doesn’t he? Something familiar. Something he knows. That way, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t deserve - and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.

Once invited back to his body, sure of what he wants, you kiss him. Deeply, hungrily, your tongue rolling and writhing against his. Your breaths just as ragged as his. Your thighs quaking next to his, your want more than evident.

You break for air and you rise up on your knees again so that you can settle over him, notching the fat, swollen head of him against your folds.

You look like a dream on top of him, and with this yellow fabric dancing about your thighs, you look to Joel like you’re wearing a sun dress. Indeed, when he looks up at you - when he blocks everything else out - you make it feel like nothing ever happened. Like nothing was ever lost.

You look just like you’re about to fuck him on his bed on white crisp sheets. Like you’ll fall asleep beside him and in the morning he’ll make you breakfast.

You look like everything he wanted and found far too late.

You are beautiful. You are good. You are gentle. Gentle still. Gentle despite everything. And where on earth did you learn that from - how on earth did you hang on to it - in a world like this? A world which has not been gentle with him. Which has been out to get him at every turn.

You are gentle with him, even when he is undeserving. Even when he has been anything but.

Gingerly then, you settle yourself over him, and once his head is notched there and your slick hand is guiding him home, he slips easily past your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he feels your warmth wrap around him, the tightness of you hugging his girth. You’re so tight that he feels like he must be splitting you apart, but the way you’re shaking for him, the way these delicious moans unravel from your mouth tells him it feels just as good for you too.

You’re gentle with him. Sinking down on him slowly. Being ever so cautious of his ribs and his bruises and scrapes. You’re making him feel so good. So close to coming undone.

But god, he’s not planning on being gentle with you.

There’s a part of Joel that wants to make love to you, sure; but he’s not even sure he’d know how to do that anymore. How to be tender. How to be gentle. And so, he reaches for you in the only way he knows how. Reaches for you with his arms, his hands. With a body that doesn’t remember pleasure - not really. With a soul that doesn’t remember anything good - not really. He reaches for you, with hands that only know how to kill things.

In the end, it’s clunky, when he extends his touch towards you. Rough - and far too desperate. He reaches for you like it’s survival - the one thing he knows how to do - and he claws at your hips, the rough pads of his flesh sinking into your skin like dough. He has the sense, at least, to check with you, to ask with words rasped through gravel in his throat if he can fill you up. And as soon as you say yes, as soon as your breathy affirmatives and pleas lilt to his ears, Joel is dragging you down on him. Spearing you -abrupt and sudden- with the fat length of his dick, surging into you all at once.

The motion, along with the sudden swell of him punches a breath from your lungs, your rib cage flaring with quick short pants. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as you mewl his name, and god, if he wasn’t hurt he’d be drilling into you already, fucking himself up into you at a brutal pace, so long as you’d let him.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, with effort. “Too much?”

“Almost. Joel - fuck. I’m so full of you.”

He stills as you breathe around him, adjusting to his size, and as soon as you’re ready you rise up on your knees, dragging electric pleasure all along his shaft as your cunt strokes and grips him tightly.

Then, when you sink yourself down once more, impaling yourself on his length, Joel screws his eyes shut as he eases -glides- into the wet, warm cushion of you all over again. You’re so soft and tight and forgiving, your walls relenting to the girth of him, yet providing such glorious friction that it makes his head spin. Makes him see spots, the edges of his vision whiting out.

Next, Joel moves too, adjusting his hips slightly. Helping you impale yourself on him over and over like this. He keeps it going, despite the burn of pain in his ribs and his shoulder. He tries to guide you with the claws of his hands at your hips, until it begins to hurt him too much. Until all he can do is lie back and take it from you. All he can do is feel it, emitting gusty, billowing breaths from the shocked “o” of his plush lips as he attempts to stave of his end. To do all he can to take care of your end too before he spills himself.

He needs to. Needs to take care of you like this, because he can’t offer you any other damn thing.

He can’t promise to take care of you.

He can’t promise that to anyone ever again.

He will only break it.

So, no promises. But surely, he can feel pleasure, for these fleeting moments? Surely, he can give you that too, because even if he doesn’t he’s damn sure you deserve at least that much.

He reaches for you. In desperation again. Like it’s survival. Like he can’t live without this. Without you. Even though he has already. Even though he'll have to again.

For now though, for right now, he's filling you all the way up. Squeezing your juices out of you. Pushing them out with every thrust until he’s fucking you with wet, obscene sounds. Until your slick is coursing down his shaft, coating his balls, inching over him.

With a grunt, Joel gathers some slick with the two forefingers of his left hand, and he rubs the calloused pads of his fingers into your clit. You yowl at the pressure -the pleasure- and then you guide him with your hand over his, Joel quickly learning your pace and your patterns, replicating it perfectly when you release your guiding touch.

It feels so good. It feels so good and your eager, pleasured moans are billowing down to him, your cunt clenching down on him and his dick is feeling fucking blissful as you repeatedly sink yourself. It feels good - so good - and it’s more than he deserves but god, he’s going to take it. He's going to take it even if he has to be punished for it later.

He’s pretty sure the world has been punishing him for years anyway. Pretty sure it’s keeping score and will be sure to let him know about it if he dares to take too much.

For now though.

Holy shit.

It feels so good and you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Better than he could have imagined, his flattened daydreams of you nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a vision, and you’re too good for this blighted earth and you’re every bit deserving of the life Joel knows he can never give you.

It’s bittersweet and you’re beautiful; but you’re too beautiful to look at - bright like the sun in your yellow tunic, fabric moving around your thighs like a sun dress, like something you might have worn in the before times. Like you might have worn in his yard if he’d still had a home to offer you. Maybe. Maybe you would've. It kills him that he'll never know. Never know what you could have had. What he could have given you.

You’re beautiful, and god you’re too beautiful to look at and so he drags you down to his lips as you clamp down around him, squeezing him like a vice, causing pleasure to sear white hot from his middle, creamy ropes of cum filling you up as you convulse. Your spasming cunt sends jolting aftershocks zipping through his length, ekeing every last drop from him, draining him dry.

You’re too beautiful. Too good of a thing for him to hold on to - and so Joel keeps kissing you, his hands coming to cup your face as tenderly as his killing hands know how. Kissing you, for long enough that he can quash the tears which threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He kisses you softly, his sentiments dissolving like sugar against your mouth - as sweet as he can muster.

He kisses you, until he feels the shape of your mouth morph into a smile, and that’s it. That's when he stops.

That’s when he stops, because he can’t let himself feel this. He can’t let himself feel this because he can’t pull on that thread. Not when everything he has worked so hard to push down is all knotted and tangled together. Everything he’s loved and everything he’s lost, all bundled up in his chest.

He can’t let himself feel this because it was far more than he expected to feel.

He’d thought that you would be quick. Thought -hoped- you were just using him. Like this was a transaction. That maybe this was how you collect advantages. How you’ve managed to survive. Instead though, you gave, and you took, but it was not transactional in the slightest. And Joel has nothing left in his heart or his pockets except ration cards. Nothing he can give you in return.

Most importantly though, he can’t let himself feel this, because happiness died when the world did.

Died when she did.

And, happiness?

Well - Joel doesn’t believe he deserves to feel it again.

That’s why he encourages you off of him a little too quickly, even when you pepper kisses along the column of his neck. Why he moves away a little too abruptly, even when you tongue hungrily at the salt-slick sweat which has pooled in the hollow of his throat. Why he sets his face, all stern again even as he’s still leaking out of you.

Anyway, he stands, grunting out in pain. Maybe in anguish. Pulling his pants up with his good arm, and preparing to go.

He sets his face, and he looks back at you, where you have huddled yourself in his spot on the chair, your makeshift yellow sun dress hitched up around your hips, exposing where you glisten, all slick with the evidence of what he just did with you.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful. You look like summer when he meets your eyes. A sun that is bright and constant, like it used to be before the rot clouded over the skies.

A light that is far too bright for him.

Part of him expects you to look sad. To look surprised that he has leapt up like this, motioning to leave so violently. Expects you to plead with him to give you more; but instead, you look at him levelly. Knowing, not naive. Maybe you too are clear on the limits of what’s possible. Clear that there are some things that can never be.

Still, as that soft smile plays over your face, as Joel holds the memory of your touch over his body, the bitter coffee look in his eyes sweetens just a little.

“Listen. Thanks," he states brusqely. It’s not enough. Not by any stretch. But unless you want some contraband or some shit, it’s all he’s got.

“No problem, Joel-y. I... I just wanted to take care of you. I thought you deserved that - at least once.”

Tears prick at the corners of Joel’s eyes. Stinging; but pushed down and flattened before you can even notice it. He’s not quite sure. Not quite sure whether hearing you say he deserves something he’s sure that he doesn’t counts as pleasure or pain, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He’s back to not knowing the difference. Not recognising pleasure or happiness when they stare him in the face, because now they have become strangers.

Joel nods efficiently at you. Picks up his rucksack and moves towards the doorway, trying not to think about the fact you’re still full of him. About the fact that you’re still smiling, that backlit glow of home imviting him in.

Truth be told, he can’t imagine ever being happy again.

If he could imagine it though? If he could imagine being happy, he’s sure as all hell that it would be with you.

You’re like summer, he thinks. Bright. Luminous. It's just that Joel’s not looking for the light.

For someone who’s so used to the dark? Like him? The light is blinding.

Still, he pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you for one moment more. From the surprise on your face now, he can tell you didn’t even expect that much from him - and by God, you deserve so much better.

His eyes sweeten, just a little further, and his face sets - now with a different kind of resolve. He offers his words, like they’re cupped in outstretched palms. Like he could be gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me a debt, Joel.”

He nods, but that doesn’t mean at all that he accepts your assertion.

His eyes tick over to the broken picture rail, right where it fractures. His gaze lingers on it for a moment, cataloguing what tools he might need to fix it. Clocking the picture frames of salvaged art you have leaning up against the wall, not yet hung.

“I said, I'll make it up to you.” You nod efficiently back at him, and Joel drinks one more long measure of you in before he leaves. Maybe it's not quite a promise, but right now, it's all he's got.

He’d burn the world down for you, he thinks, if it could change a damn thing.

Thing is though, the world has already burned.

He can’t make you many promises. Can’t keep you safe. Make you happy. Offer you a home.

He’ll only let you down.

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it is - but Joel knows one thing for sure. You’re brighter than the sun, and, in a world full of darkness? He just can’t look away, even though you’re blinding.

#joel miller x reader #tlou #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers

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kisskiss-killforlove · 11 months

Note

Could You write a Scenario in wich we hug Horuda and Megami? They deserve a hug

♡ Darling gives them a hug ♡

Pairings: Megami Saikou, Horuda Puresu x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.2k (Megami); 1.3k (Horuda) Content: Hurt/comfort, mentions of nepotism, mentions of bullying, crying, mentions of obsessive behaviour, fluff, probably improper use of Japanese honorifics.

{Megami Saikou}

It had been a tiring day for Megami.

A stern lecture from her father, a fight breaking out at school, a stolen answer sheet, an explosion in the Science Club - and those were just the things she could name off the top of her head.

Bit by bit, it had all piled up, leaving her wondering if perhaps the world was intent on testing her patience that day. Thus, as soon as cleaning time was over, she shut herself in the student council room, instructing most of its members to do another round of patrols.

It was silly, she knew, but by then, her patience had run too thin for her to tolerate other people's presence, and she didn't want to compromise her image as the perfect student council president by showing her irritation.

At that moment, however, as she sat by herself, working diligently on an assignment, she felt anything but perfect.

Yet no matter how many times she reached her boiling point, there would always be more to do. Be it at school or at home, something would require her attention at nearly all hours of the day; today and tomorrow and the day after that and-

"Saikou-senpai?"

An all too familiar voice broke her out of her spiralling thoughts as the door slid open. Megami looked up from her work, her stomach filling with a fluttering sensation as her tired gaze landed on you.

"Are you alright?" you asked. "I heard from Toriyasu-senpai that you seemed upset, so I wanted to check on you."

Ah, of course you did.

You had left abruptly during cleaning time to fetch some bleach after it had run out, so you ended up missing the memo about staying away from the council room. Not that she could ever fault you for it, of course. After all, it was your kind-hearted nature that drew her in initially, and why she insisted you continue to be a part of the student council despite your lack of qualifications.

She would never admit to having such a bias, though, as doing so would force her to acknowledge just how unhealthy her obsession had gotten.

"I'm alright," she answered immediately, sounding more confident than she felt. "You should start your patrol now if you want to finish in time for our meeting."

Undeterred by her attempt to push you away, you stepped inside and slid the door closed behind you. "Saikou-senpai," you spoke gently, approaching her with cautious steps. "Are you sure you're okay? I'm here if you need someone to talk to you."

Megami sighed at your persistence, setting down her pen as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "You don't know when to give up, do you?" she asked, though there was no hint of annoyance in her voice. Quite the contrary, she was thankful for this opportunity to be alone with you, even if it was due to unfortunate circumstances.

At this, you chuckled. "I guess not..."

Grabbing a chair, you placed it in front of her desk and sat down. With your elbows on your knees, you leaned forward as you rested your head in your hands, looking at her expectantly.

After a moment, Megami relented, "It's really nothing you need to concern yourself with. I'm simply going through a period of stress as everyone does."

You frowned when you heard this. "Oh... Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe take some weight off your shoulders?"

She sighed. "No, there's nothing that can be done, although that's not to say I don't appreciate your concern. The best you can do is let me handle this on my own."

Her answer didn't seem to satisfy you as you looked away, staring absentmindedly at the floor in deep thought. Right as Megami opened her mouth to ask you to leave, you spoke up, "Do you want a hug?"

Immediately, you slapped a hand over your mouth, staring at her in horror as you realised what you'd just asked. Megami returned your look of bewilderment as she asked, "Excuse me?"

Snapping out of your shock, you raised your hands defensively, speaking quickly, "I...! I'm sorry, I didn't mean... I just..." After stumbling over your words for a bit, you finally took a moment to calm yourself, taking a deep breath and letting your hands drop to your sides. Then, you began speaking again, this time more calmly, "What I mean is... When I'm stressed and feel like no one can help me, a hug usually makes me feel better... It's a nice physical reminder that someone's there for you... It keeps you grounded, you know?"

No, in fact, Megami did not know.

Affection of any kind had been mostly absent from her childhood, especially physical affection. The thought of someone holding her during times of emotional distress was utterly alien to her, yet... it wasn't unappealing either.

Granted, doing something so intimate with you would be far from appropriate given the nature of your relationship, but Megami was willing to give it a try. She did like you, after all, even if you weren't aware of it yet, and there was no one else around... Surely one hug wouldn't hurt.

So, taking a deep breath, Megami replied with a stiff nod before speaking, "Alright..."

She was just as stunned as you were at her words but refused to back down as you approached slowly and awkwardly. Due to her lack of experience, it took her a second to realise she should stand up, which she did hastily and nearly knocked into you in the process. It wasn't normal for her to be so graceless, but then again, nothing was normal when you were around.

So, with her gaze downcast, she allowed you to wrap your arms around her waist and, after some brief pondering and internal panic, she reluctantly wrapped her own around your shoulders. Once she grew accustomed to the feeling of being in your embrace, she nearly melted into your arms, having to stop herself from slumping against you.

In an instant, everything bad that happened that day disappeared from her mind, replaced with only the euphoria that came with holding you. If 'comfort' were ever to take human form, it would surely look like you, for only you could calm the raging storm that was her mind.

After a moment, you began to pull away, which triggered an unexpected reflex in Megami as she pulled you back, her grip firmer than before.

"S-Saikou-senpai?" you stuttered.

Megami didn't respond immediately, opting to rest her head on your shoulder first. "Can we... stay like this for a moment longer?" she asked, her voice growing uncharacteristically soft.

Her question seemed to catch you off-guard, but not for long as you soon rested your own head on her shoulder. "Of course."

She smiled at your answer, continuing to hold you as though you were the only thing that brought her a true sense of joy and purpose in her otherwise chaotic life. And in a way, perhaps you were... "And one more thing..." she began.

You let out a soft "Hm?" in response.

"I would greatly appreciate it if you... if you were to call me 'Megami-senpai' in private."

She couldn't see your face, but she swore she could hear a smile in your voice as you answered, "...Okay."

{Horuda Puresu}

Horuda sniffled, her breath coming out in short, ragged puffs as she examined herself in the bathroom mirror. Her usually well-kept dark hair was damp, messy, and covered in white as she tried desperately to wash chalk dust out of it. Tears slipped from her eyes as she did, looking at her shaking, frightened form.

It wasn't an image she was unfamiliar with.

Her school life had been hell for as long as she could remember, and her time at Akademi had thus far been no different.

Sighing, she took a moment to wipe her tears, which didn't really help in drying her face as her hand was still wet. When she looked back up at her reflection, a choked sob escaped her lips. She was a mess. She couldn't possibly go to class like this.

Turning to grab some paper towels, she suddenly froze at the sound of someone calling her name from the hallway. "Horuda-san? Where are you?" the person called.

Her breath caught in her throat as she realised the person looking for her was you.

Immediately, her mind went into a panic. Out of everyone in Akademi, why did it have to be you that was searching for her? She would have preferred anyone, even one of the bullies, over you; the thought of her crush seeing her in such a state was nothing short of mortifying.

She briefly debated hiding in one of the stalls until you left, but the slight hint of concern in your voice made her reconsider. You had never been cruel to her, no matter how many nasty rumours you heard, so perhaps you wouldn't judge her too harshly if you were to see her...

Taking a deep breath, Horuda made her way to the exit before poking her head out, spotting you just down the hall. As soon as you turned around and saw her, a look of relief washed over your face and you began lightly jogging towards her. Horuda had to resist the urge to hide in the bathroom again as you approached.

"Thank goodness I found you," you said with a smile. "Aburaya-sensei was starting to get really worried, so she asked me to..." Your smile dropped as you went silent, taking in the sight of her damp, dishevelled hair and puffy, red eyes. "...Horuda-san, what happened?"

"O-Oh, um... I-It's nothing..." She replied.

"Obviously it's not nothing if you've got chalk dust in your hair," you said firmly. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Before Horuda could protest, you gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. A stuttered word or two managed to escape her lips as you did, but otherwise, she made no move to stop you as you stepped out to retrieve a chair from the hallway.

Placing it in front of the sink, you motioned for her to sit down, which she did with some reluctance. As you moved behind her to begin washing her hair, a deep blush settled on her face. This whole situation felt like something straight out of those romance novels she occasionally read rather than real life.

Still, she was grateful for your presence, despite her anxiety, and continued to sit patiently as you washed her hair. Occasionally, her self-control would slip, leading her to glance back at you, only to find her actions went unnoticed as you kept all of your attention on the task at hand.

After a few moments, you spoke, "So... you wanna tell me what happened?"

"U-Um..." Horuda began, her hands suddenly clammy. "I... got some chalk dust... in my h-hair...?"

You huffed as you turned off the sink, slipping into one of the stalls to grab some paper towels. When you came out, you asked, "I can see that, but how did you get chalk dust in your hair?"

Horuda's heart hammered in her chest as she refused to meet your gaze, her hands clutching the hem of her skirt anxiously. She wanted to tell you, she truly did, but what were the odds of you believing her? Musume and her friends were popular and well-liked, while Horuda was just... herself. There was no way you were going to take her word over theirs.

While she was having this mental debate with herself, getting more and more lost in her thoughts, she was suddenly startled by the sight of you kneeling before her. Your concern was shown in your expression as you took one of her hands gently. "Horuda-san, please... tell me who did this. I know this can't have been an accident."

Horuda could only stare at you for a long moment, her hand trembling in yours as she tried to think of how to answer. After thinking over her response, she said, "Ronshaku-senpai... a-and her friends... t-they... they did this..."

A look of anger briefly flashed across your face before you suppressed it, continuing to look at her with concern. "And how long has this been going on for?"

Horuda's breath became shallow as she tried to recall the last few weeks of awful torment she'd suffered at Musume's hands. "S-Since... the start of the school year..."

"Has anyone else seen this happen?"

"No..."

"So, you're all alone when those bimbos pick on you?"

Horuda was shocked by your sudden insult but nodded, her expression dropping once again. Tears began forming in her eyes as silence fell between the two of you, and she couldn't bear to look at you anymore. She couldn't even feel happy about being able to hold your hands with how much this conversation had upset her. All she could do was stay quiet and hope you wouldn't react too negatively.

After a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity to Horuda, she felt as though her heart had stopped as you put your hands on her shoulders and pulled her down... to hug her.

She was too stunned to speak, remaining stiff as a board while she tried to comprehend what was going on.

"I'm so sorry for not noticing sooner," you said softly. "If you'd like, you can sit with me from now on so they won't bother you anymore."

Horuda could hardly process what was going on but slowly, she wrapped her arms around you, allowing herself to relax in your embrace. Once she snapped out of her shock, her mind quickly caught up and she burst into tears, clinging to you like a lifeline.

This whole time, she'd been terrified of how you'd react to seeing her in such a state, and now you were being so nice. You didn't care that you were kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor, or that her wet hair was covering your arms as she knelt forward, or even that she was weeping into your shoulder.

All you cared about was making her feel better, and that made her heart race in a way it never had before. She felt relieved. She felt... happy.

A few moments passed in which you simply held her, allowing her to cry her heart out before she finally pulled away. If she was a mess before, she was a wreck now, but the sight of your kind eyes and gentle smile made that fact irrelevant.

As her sobs turned into sniffles, she managed to mutter, "Th...Thank you... so much..."

You stood, letting go of her hand, much to her disappointment, and walked behind her with paper towels in hand. "Don't mention it. I'm just happy you're okay." Horuda smiled, wiping her tears as she felt you carefully dab at her hair to get the water out. "Now then, let's head back to class, okay? I'll explain what happened to Aburaya-sensei afterwards."

She nodded. Perhaps with you by her side, her school life might just be bearable after all...

#yandere simulator x reader #yansim x reader #megami saikou x reader #yandere megami saikou x reader #horuda puresu x reader #yandere horuda puresu x reader #cw: yandere

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slygirl666 · 5 months

Text

august (Charlie Weasley)

Charlie x reader

notes: based on the Taylor Swift song, but I couldn't not end hopeful. Slytherin reader but the is only one reference to it not explicit but refers to sex

I have more Taylor swift Harry Potter fictions in my stuff if y'all want more

word count: 1,217

You brushed by Charlie Weasley entering potions, you looked down to control the heat that rose to your cheeks. Looking up you caught his eyes lingering.

You flushed remembering this last summer before your seventh year.

You were out at a small beachtown with your parents, they were there less often than one would think for a family vacation so you spent much time walking around the town.

You had walked down to a more private area taking off your shoes laughing to find your toes in the sand.

But when you got to your spot you found someone sitting there.a familiar mop of red curls, the gryffindor quidditch captain.

He turned to meet your eye. He looked over your curiosity written all over his face. When he moved you noticed a sketch book in his lap.

“Sorry I didn't think someone would be here,” you began to turn around.

“No, it's fine,” he smiled at you. “You go to Hogwarts don't you? I think we had charms together.”

You nodded at him smiling. You gave him your name.

“Its nice to properly meet you.”

You were soon meeting him in this spot every day. Talking, subtly getting closer, memorizing the way his hair curled around his face and how it carelessly fell back when he ran his finger through it.

It turned into an everyday thing to meet him out by that small hidden place. You were reading, he was drawing something facing you and you caught his eye more than once.

“What are you drawing this time?” you smiled at him placing down your book.

“You,” he shrugged like the simple word didn't just take your breath away.

“I thought you only drew dragons,” you tried to recover quickly.

“I draw what i'd like to,” he looked up at you shyly placing the sketch book on your lap.

You inhaled sharply as you saw the way he drew the curve of your nose and the silly face you make when you concentrate too hard.

“You made me beautiful,” you gave him a soft smile somewhere in you being lost in the drawing he moved right next to you.

“I drew you as you are,” his voice was almost a whisper and a rather large hand round a lock of your hair.

You turned to face him, finding an intensity in his eyes you've never seen up close. Your eyes went to his lips that were twisted into a slight smirk.

He was getting closer giving you time to pull away, but you met him there. You met slightly chapped lips and a hand found its way to your chin.

You wanted to wrap yourself in him, he was warm and inviting.

“Charlie,” you beathed when he pulled back his forehead against yours. “Do you want to come to my cabin?”

It was forward,stupid and might scare him off. But you wanted to take the chance what if it was only today, but also what if this could mean forever.

He smiled, bringing his lips to yours again before getting up to go. He grabbed your hand so you could pull him with you.

Once you got to the cabin he seemed less dazed. “Your parents?”

“Out of town for the weekend.”

He pulled you to him, his arms circling your waist, a soft kiss on the front porch. “Are you sure?”

It was a good question, they could turn back now but nothing in you wanted to.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips pulling him in by his tee shirt.

Innocent kisses easily turned to gentle touches, clothes were shed frantically, it was a hunger you had never known before.

“Charlie,” you breathed as he went for your waist band. “I haven't ever done this before.”

He nodded, “we can stop.”

“No.”

***

You pulled away from his eyes as you joined the other slytherin students on their side of the class. You took notes as diligently as you could wondering why he hasn’t talked to you.

You needed to know what only two months ago put so much distance between the two of you. You thought he wanted you too.

Thinking back to how your parents never being present meant you and Charlie got the cabin to yourselves.

You remembered his golden skin that stood out on your green sheets. He was laying on his stomach looking at you as you mindlessly traced his back. It took everything in you to not trace your own name on the muscle you were feeling.

“Charlie?”

“Yes love?” The nickname made your heart flutter.

“This won't be it for us, will it?” you whispered. The doom of seventh year only weeks away.

“If you don't want it to be it won’t,” he twisted to face up,his fingers laced with yours bringing them to his mouth for a kiss.

But it had been a lie, you walked onto the train and saw him with his friends, his arm slung around a pretty blond hufflepuff.

You walked to where you knew your friends were fighting back tears that you never allowed to slip.

You breathed you thought a week without hearing from him was reasonable but now you saw he may have had another reason.

You were young sure but everything in you knew you wanted Charlie Weasley in your life, you wanted his hands around your waist, his whispers at night.

He was everything you never knew you needed.

You hoped maybe he’ll reach out after maybe you miss understood, it was known Charlie Weasley was not intrested girls or anyone really.

He never did.

So here you were in the October chill reading the same book you read on that beach for what had to be the tenth time since that day.

You heard a soft ‘oh’ as someone intruded on your quiet spot.

It was Charlie.

“I'll go,” you said at the same time. You stood up almost falling from how fast you got up. You turned to walk away but a familiar hand grabbed your wrist.

“Love?” he breathed as your face twisted into one of hurt you could fee the tears pricking your eyes.

“What do you want Weasley” you tried to pull but his grip was firm.

“I want to know what happened to us,” you turned to meet his eyes to find hurt in them. “I thought you wanted us, I did, well I do.”

“I waited to hear from you Charlie, I understood the week before school, I did.” tears slipped, “but then I walked onto the train to find a pretty hufflepuff around you and i thought maybe you made a mistake.”

“Love, no, I meant what I said only if you wanted it.” he breathed, softly pulling you closer you followed his movement. “Penny is genuinely a friend. When you didn't reach out i thought you didn't want us.”

“Somehow, after everything all I want is us.” you managed a smile. You put your free hand into his red curls as he intertwined your fingers on the hand he used to pull you in. You laughed, pulling his face down to meet yours.

There would be much to talk about , but right now you are grateful that Charlie wasn't a lost memory to linger on.

#charlie weasley x reader #charlie weasley x oc #charlie weasley #Charlie Weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin reader

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cherr-22 · 6 months

Text

TNGDH 32

“Gasp…… Ugh. I’m dying…….”

After leaving the study, I ran like crazy. I ran like I’ve never ran before.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from my room. If I weren’t fast enough, the ‘Summon’ duration would end and I would’ve disappeared in the middle of the hallway, leaving behind nothing but my clothes.

After running at full speed, I went into the bed, covered myself with the blanket, and canceled the ‘Summon’. With that, I was summoned back to where I designated in advance, under the sawdust.

―Squeak. (Whew.)

At this rate, I might end up passing away young…….

I stumbled towards the middle of the hamster house and laid on my back with my arms and legs stretched out. The sky is yellow. So yellow.

“Did you exercise? You look tired.”

Kyle appeared suddenly and picked me up while I was still panting. He began to kiss all over me. With no strength to even lift up a paw, I helplessly received all his affectionate gestures.

―Squeak……. (Are you content now…….)

“I understand, I understand. I also like you a lot.”

―Squeak……. (This clueless bastard…….)

“Today, I will make you a present.”

Kyle, who put me down, put a handful of duck feathers into the handkerchief he laid out for me last night. Then, he carefully began to quilt it.

Although it looked a little awkward and had threads sticking out, it came out better than the dish scrub he made before. Have you been practicing these days?

I peered at his face with my barely open eyes. There was a warm smile that contrasted with the endless winter out the window.

What are you so happy about.

It’s just a demonic beast.

As I felt the handkerchief being carefully placed on my back, I slowly closed my eyes..

―Squeak……. (This diligent, tactless, warm-hearted bastard…….)

One day, this moment would become a memory to think back about after I return back to my world.

It would be a happy memory to remember.

―…….

“…….”

It was a suffocating silence..

I looked back and forth at Kyle and the magician, who were both watching me put up a guard.

It had been thirty minutes since the magician entered the study. They constantly observed me as if I were a lab rat. Stop staring please. It’s really burdensome.

Gulp.

A swallow was heard throughout the room.

The culprit was the nervous magician next to Kyle.

“T-then, I will start now.”

As if he had finally made up his mind, the magician, who looked to be middle-aged, lifted me up carefully.

The lift was uncomfortable. The palm I was sitting on was shaking hard as if an earthquake occurred.

―Squeak……. (Excuse me, sir…….)

Are you trying to play with me or what?

I sat on the shaking palms and gave him a wary look.

You must be nervous with Kyle glaring at you as if he were going to rip you to pieces, but it’s not like Kyle would actually shred you. He’s just worried. He’s just an ordinary demonic beast lover.

After wiping his sweat with the back of his hand, the magician began to inject blue mana into my body. I closed my eyes and hugged tight onto the cashew nut in my hands.

I didn’t know how my body would react to this and neither did the system, but I had no choice but to take a gamble. Kyle would’ve used all possible methods he could find to make me grow.

Right. It’s better to get this done and over with.

―……?

Bam.

My body was pushed slightly to the side along with the sound of something blunt hitting each other.

I held tighter onto the cashew nut I almost dropped and stretched out my neck to look around like a meerkat. Wh-what was that? Something just flew by?

“……Did you do it?”

“I did, however…….”

There was a crushing silence. The magician swallowed again nervously before placing his hand on my body once more.

“This…… this time I’ll try injecting harder.”

Despite saying that, he was still shaking incredibly.

Your life must also be a rough ride. I pat the magician’s hand with my front paw and took a short, deep breath. Come, I am ready.

“……Hmph!”

The magician made a weird grunting sound before drawing up a palm full of blue mana energy. Then, the moment the powerful mana shot out and made contact with my body…

Ting.

Bam.

My body rolled back twice before colliding with the wall. I was buried in Kyle’s knitted yarns.

“Cashew!”

Kyle quickly picked me up. I shook my head and felt some static electricity penetrating my whole body.

‘Just what exactly is happened?’

What happened? Is mana supposed to feel this shocking?

[The in□able power □s d□sp□.]

I blankly stared at the system window that appeared in front of my eyes. The letters were broken into pixels and were difficult to read, but I felt I knew what it was saying.

‘Is it saying that the mana of my body and this world are colliding? Is it the same for the unexpected appearance of the beast during the reconnaissance?’

As I was lost in my thoughts, Kyle checked my entire body for any wounds.

“……Your Highness. This, I don’t think this is your typical demonic beast.”

The magician said in a hushed voice as he formed a puddle below his feet from his sweat.

“If this little one isn’t a demonic beast, what could it possibly be!”

Kyle covered me with his palm as he shouted at the magician who stood far away from him and flinched.

Hey, hey. Don’t be like that. It isn’t his fault.

“H-however, it’s not only not accepting the mana, it’s even reflecting it back…….”

While the magician rambled, I picked up the cashew nut that had flown away. The end was slightly cracked from the impact earlier. It also looked like there was a bit of dust on it.

―…….

I threw the cashew nut in frustration. Forget it. I’m not eating this dirty thing. I should use ‘Summon’ and eat something nicer.

I sat back down and watched two people arguing- no, one person suffering from the rage of the other. It’s not like I could stop the fight with this body of mine. I would have to wait for them to finish on their own.

Thinking like that, I revisited the system window with the pixel letters.

“Your Highness!”

I turned my head at the sudden voice and the study door flinging open.

It was a face I knew. He was one of Kyle’s knights in the scouting party.

“What’s the matter. A guest is here, so quickly state your matter.”

“M-my apologies! However, a letter arrived saying that Prince Belial had been attacked……!”

“……attacked?”

……What? Attacked?

I jumped up.

Kyle chased off the magician and put me back into the hamster house. After closing the house, he approached the knight at the door.

Hey. Talk inside the room! Let me hear it too!

I pressed my ears against the transparent wall. Fortunately, the study door was not completely closed, so I was able to vaguely hear the conversation.

In summary, Belial, who was returning back to the imperial palace, was ambushed by an unknown group. It was a serious incident that caused the carriage to overturn, but because the location was closer to the imperial palace, it took time for the news to reach the Blake estate……

I crossed my arms and paced back and forth in the hamster house.

The early part of <The Winter’s Heart>. The only attack I knew at this point of the novel was the ambush on Kyle that resulted in him getting wounded on his right arm.

But that incident didn’t occur on Kyle due to my interference. So instead, Belial was attacked?

‘……Something’s not right.’

Does that mean the unknown force behind the ambush on Kyle in the original story wasn’t from Belial? I thought deeply while rocking on the swing.

The controlling power within the imperial palace was definitely the second prince, Belial. I’d hate to admit, but he had exceptional leadership skills and a captivating smile, making him popular among the people.

Then was it different within the palace? As far as I knew, some subjects already openly considered Belial to be the future emperor even though the 1st prince was still alive.

‘But, what was his name again?’

Suddenly, a system window appeared.

[Lorenz Serena Meinhardt was weak-minded and cowardly. He couldn’t compete with Kyle in force, nor could he beat Belial in intellect. All he had left was the pride of being the 1st prince.

‘Right. It was Lorenz.’

I disliked him so much I even forgot his name.

I recalled the description of him from the story. With a hair color lighter than Belial’s, he was said to have a sharp appearance that resembled his mother, Serena. His thick eyebrows and clear facial features were said to resemble the emperor.

[눈_눈]

### ‘눈’ means ‘eye’. The emote resembles a frowning face.

Yeah. Like that.

However, the imperial family valued tradition and legitimacy. No matter how much power Belial held, he would not be able to become the emperor.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Prince Lorenz had no support at all, and the emperor probably would want to entrust the country to his eldest son.

That was why I thought Lorenz wouldn’t interfere with Belial’s matters. He could become the emperor even if he stood still, so there was no need to make a mess.

―Squeak. (This is all so confusing.)

While I spun the hamster wheel with my hands habitually, Kyle returned to the study with a slightly depressed look on his face.

It seemed everything has settled down. How kind of you to worry about your enemy like that.

With a short sigh, I used ‘Summon’. He didn’t seem to have the spirit to look after the hamster, so this would be the perfect time to become Shu.

Above all, the small hamster body wouldn’t be able to give Kyle the comfort he needed. For now, I want to be be his side as a human being.

--------------------------------------------------------

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

#tngdh

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bloody-bee-tea · 2 months

Text

IntiMarch 2024 Day 13 - I'll take you all

The prompt for this was "I really like you"

Suguru bites back a groan when Professor Yaga announces that the next project will be done in pairs of two. It’s the worst possible thing for Suguru, because he prefers to work alone and it’s not as if he made any friends this year who he could ask to team up with.

That means he’s going to be paired with a complete stranger and that’s going to suck big time, Suguru already knows it.

It sucked last year, too, after all.

The people he was paired up with made rude comments about his painted nails and his long hair and they were downright hostile when he told them that he is only available at certain times, and no, he cannot budge on those.

Suguru didn’t even bother to explain because someone who has such baseless prejudices against him simply from his looks would probably not take too kindly to learning that Suguru has two daughters at home.

He heard how some of these students talk about girls who fall pregnant at nineteen or even twenty. He doesn’t need to hear what they would say should they learn that he became a father at fifteen.

“Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru,” Professor Yaga calls out in that moment and Suguru fights the urge to slam his head against the table.

He couldn’t have been paired with a worse person.

Everyone at campus knows Gojo Satoru; he’s notorious for being late, being a player, being an asshole and rude and a general pain in the ass, being so unbelievable rich that his parents didn’t have time to raise him right.

In his two years at this university Suguru has managed to evade Satoru as best as he can and in all honesty he didn’t even know that he was sharing a class with him.

He’s certainly not present a lot.

“Geto, a word please?” Professor Yaga says when he ends the lecture and Suguru quickly packs his stuff away before he walks up to him.

“Yes?”

“I informed Gojo about this per Mail last night already, hoping he’d show up. Seeing as this is not the case, I just wanted to let you know that in your special case you’ll be graded individually, should you wish so. Just let me know. I know working with Gojo is—not ideal,” Professor Yaga says with a wince and Suguru almost laughs at his constipated look, “but someone has to and at least with you I know you’re diligent enough to cover your own part well. I wouldn’t worry about it impacting your grades.”

“Only my nerves,” Suguru mutters under his breath though when Professor Yaga almost chokes on his breath he knows he wasn’t quiet enough. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Professor Yaga waves him off. “Just don’t let him drive you crazy, Gojo has a penchant for doing that to people.”

“I would say I’ve had decent training at home,” Suguru drily gives back, because of course his professors know about his situation, in case he has to call in sick on behalf of the girls.

“You might be right with that. Maybe you’re uniquely equipped to deal with him, it would certainly be a first,” Professor Yaga sighs out. “And if not, you just tell me. Have a good day, Geto.”

“Thank you, Professor Yaga,” Suguru says again and then shoulders his bag.

It’s good to know that no matter how much Satoru fucks up, it won’t impact Suguru’s grades but he’s seriously not looking forward to wrangling him. The damage to his mind could be irreparable after all.

Suguru has just stepped outside the lecture hall when he’s accosted by a tall, gangly boy with a shock of white hair.

“You Suguru?” the guy asks and Suguru musters him from head to toe.

“You couldn’t even bother to show up to class? Not once? Not even for today?” he then asks, because of course he knows that this is Satoru.

He had to know, in order to stay out of his way.

“What for? It’s all boring shit anyway,” Satoru carelessly gives back and pulls out his phone. ��I need your number.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow at him and waits him out.

“Ehm, hello? I said I need your number,” Satoru repeats but Suguru isn’t bothered.

“That’s good for you,” he says and then falls silent again.

“Seriously? Are you stupid or something?” Satoru mutters after a moment.

“Are you without manners, perhaps?” Suguru shoots right back, because he’s not going to let this guy trample all over him.

Suguru can say no to his daughters and Satoru has nothing on them.

Satoru opens and closes his mouth several times before he huffs out a breath.

“Would you please give me your number? So we can coordinate for meet-ups.”

“There you go,” Suguru says with a smile and gets his own phone. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

“That wasn’t so hard now,” Satoru mocks him, even as he dutifully puts in the numbers Suguru recites to him. “You’re a real prick, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one, apparently,” Suguru evenly says and saves Satoru’s number when he shoots him a text. “Do you want to schedule a time right now?”

“You think I plan ahead?” Satoru flippantly says and turns around, walking away from Suguru with a little wave of his hand. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

“Oh, no, you won’t,” Suguru mutters under his breath and immediately sends Satoru a text message, outlining the dates and times he’s available.

It’s probably for naught, but at least he can say he tried.

~*~*~

Throughout the week Satoru messages him with sporadic ‘I am free now’s to which Suguru only ever copy pastes his very first message. They still have time for the project so Suguru isn’t worried about anything yet, especially not with Professor Yaga’s reassurance.

It’ll work out with Satoru or it won’t, Suguru really couldn’t care less.

To his surprise Satoru suggests one of the times Suguru is actually available during the second week. He caved surprisingly quickly, Suguru thinks, though he doesn’t yet dare to trust it.

And clearly rightfully so, Suguru thinks, his annoyance rising, when the set time arrives and then passes, with no Satoru in sight.

At the fifteen minute mark Suguru decides to get started without him, because he’s already at the coffee shop anyway and so he might as well get some work done. He reads the first chapter of the book they are supposed to cover, taking meticulous notes on it and he’s so engrossed in his work that he startles badly when someone slides into the booth opposite of his.

“What a good little student you are,” Satoru says, deliberately mocking and Suguru closes the book.

“Not everyone has a family that pays for our grades, sorry to disappoint,” he gives back, not letting his anger show and he feels a stab of satisfaction when Satoru’s eyes widen in surprise.

It seems not enough people talk back to him. Well, Suguru will gladly change that, because he’s not about to simply take this guy’s bullshit.

He checks his watch, exaggerating the movement greatly and then gives Satoru a disappointed look.

“You’re almost an hour late.”

“Count yourself lucky I showed up at all,” Satoru grumbles out and promptly leaves Satoru to get himself something to drink.

Well. Suguru has half an hour before he has to leave and pick up the girls; he might as well check out if Satoru is an airhead or not.

Once Satoru is back with his coffee—it looks more like a concoction but Satoru seems happy enough with it—Suguru immediately launches into his notes.

To his surprise Satoru can keep up with his train of thought easily, and either he did the assigned reading or he read this book before, because he seems familiar with the topic. He has a lot of valid thoughts, even though he presents them in a manner that makes Suguru want to strangle him but by the end of the half hour, Suguru is almost sad he has to leave.

Satoru could be really nice to work with, if only his attitude was better.

“What are you doing?” Satoru asks with a frown when Suguru starts to pack his things. “We’re not done.”

“No, we’re not,” Suguru easily gives back. “But unlike you, I have responsibilities.”

“So? Whatever it is, cancel them or reschedule or whatever. I was just getting entertained.”

“Good for you, but the world doesn’t revolve around you. I don’t have time to sit around for an hour, waiting to see if you deign to grace me with your presence; I have actual things to do and if you can’t keep to a scheduled time, then that’s on you. Have a nice afternoon.”

He doesn’t give Satoru the chance to say anything to that because he simply walks out on him.

Satoru doesn’t text him for an entire week.

~*~*~

They are supposed to meet again; same coffee shop, same time. Suguru knows better now and brings some assigned reading for another lecture with him, because he’s not going to waste another hour here.

He’s barely finished three paragraphs when Satoru sits down at the table.

“This is—surprising,” Suguru admits and closes his book. “I wasn’t expecting you yet.”

“Yeah, well,” Satoru says but he doesn’t meet Suguru’s eyes. “I like to keep you guessing.”

“Clearly,” Suguru agrees, still completely caught off guard when Satoru leaves to get his drink.

He managed to get himself back under control by the time Satoru is back, though.

“Alright, lets get started then,” Suguru decides and just like that, they are off.

Suguru hates to admit it, but their discussion is just as good as it was the other week and by the time the third week of their meeting rolls around he has to admit that he’s looking forward to it.

Especially because Satoru continues to show up on time, and their banter loses some of the bite and goes more into teasing territory the more time they spend together.

It’s good.

“Hey listen,” Satoru says one day, well into their semester, sliding Suguru his coffee across the table.

Suguru receives it with a questioning look but Satoru only shrugs.

“I’m listening,” Suguru finally says, noticing how Satoru nervously taps a finger against the table.

“I wanted to apologise.”

That makes Suguru close his book. He even puts his pen down.

“For what?” he warily asks, wondering what new shenanigans Satoru has been up to.

Suguru learned a while back that he’s very mischievous, but that he has trouble recognising some lines. He’s mostly not crossing them out of spite or to be deliberately cruel but because he doesn’t even know he went too far.

They’ve been working on it, in their growing friendship, but if Satoru starts like this it makes Suguru worry.

“For how I treated you at first. Being so late that first time, too,” Satoru says and Suguru blinks at him. “It was a real douche-y thing to do.”

“It was,” Suguru admits because sitting around for an hour, knowing you’d been stood up—even if it was only for class work—had sucked.

“I know. I just—sorry.”

“What brought this on?” Suguru wants to know. “I mean, I forgive you, especially since you’ve been on time since then, but. Why even do it in the first place?”

“Honestly?” Satoru shrugs. “Because I can. And no one ever walked out on me like that. People usually bend to my will, no matter how late I am or what I say or do.”

Suguru hums because he suspected something like that. Everything he heard about Satoru told him that while people liked to complain about him and his behaviour, they still always did what he wanted them to do.

Stupid suckers, the lot of them.

“Well, you can count on me to always walk out on you if you’re being stupid,” Suguru reassures him, nudging Satoru’s foot with his, to take the bite out of his words.

“Thanks for that, I guess,” Satoru says with a roll of his eyes and just like that, they are back to normal.

Suguru doesn’t think more about it until they part ways to leave but then it suddenly hits him.

They are friends now.

~*~*~

Suguru can’t bring himself to tell Satoru about Nanako and Mimiko.

They’ve started to talk more, even outside of their weekly meetings and Suguru knows that having kids is most likely something you’re supposed to tell your friends but he can’t get the words out.

Satoru has never judged him for his painted nails or his too long hair, but having kids is different. That might turn Satoru away from him and Suguru finds that he doesn’t want that.

He can’t imagine not being able to talk to Satoru on a daily basis and so he doesn’t want to do anything that could jeopardise that. Especially not when he starts to notice the butterflies in his belly when Satoru laughs, or smirks, or generally exists.

It’s stupid and irrational, Suguru knows that, because if Satoru turns away from him for having daughters, then they shouldn’t have been friends in the first place anyway and yet—the words simply won’t come.

Until it’s all taken out of his hands.

They barely sat down with their coffees when Suguru’s phone rings.

It immediately puts a frown on Satoru’s face and a fluttering panic in Suguru’s stomach because he has his phone on silent, except for this one contact.

His daughter’s daycare can always reach him.

“Geto speaking,” he says as he picks up and the worry only grows.

“Hello. I’m sorry to call you like this but Nanako is sick. She has a fever and she won’t stop crying. We think it’s best if you pick your daughters up early today, Mimiko is understandably distressed as well.”

“I see. Of course, I’ll be over in a moment.”

“Please don’t rush. It’s nothing serious. I just think they’d feel better if they had their dad.”

“Right. I’m on my way,” Suguru gives back and even though she made sure to reassure him that it’s not serious or life-threatening by any means, Suguru feels panic crawl up his throat.

He’s so far away from the daycare. It will take him too long to get there and to think that Nanako has to wait for him to arrive, crying all the time—

“You okay? You turned kind of white,” Satoru interrupts his thoughts and Suguru jerks.

“I have to leave,” he says, hastily stuffing his things into his bag.

“Suguru,” Satoru says, reaching across the table to grab his arm, stilling Suguru’s movement. “What’s going on?”

“I—I have to pick up my daughters,” Suguru says, not allowing himself to think about this any more than that. He has to get them. It doesn’t matter what Satoru thinks.

“Okay. Do you need a ride there? Can I help otherwise?” Satoru asks, staying completely calm and Suguru lets out a harsh breath.

“You have a car?”

“I do. I don’t have seats for them, though,” he says as if that’s a failing on his part and Suguru shakes his head.

“It’s not far from the daycare to my apartment. If I sit with them in the back it should be fine.”

This once. Just this once, it can be fine if they ride in a car without their seats. It has to be.

“Alright. Let’s get going then,” Satoru says, packing everything up faster than even Suguru did and before he knows it they are already at the daycare.

Satoru waits in the car and Suguru is glad for the space he gives him to pick up his daughters. Nanako is still crying when Suguru gets to her and Mimiko looks about ready to burst into tears, too, and he doesn’t hesitate to sweep them up in his arms.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I’m here,” he whispers, both of them clinging to him, and of course that sets off Mimiko. “Ready to go home, girls?” he asks, even though they are in no state to answer him and Suguru whisks them away just like that.

Satoru is already waiting for him, opening the door when he sees them coming and Suguru gives him a grateful smile over Nanako’s head.

“They sure had a hard time without their dad, huh?” Satoru asks, sticking his head into the car to check if Suguru gets them situated without problems and then he’s behind the wheel again.

“Home?”

“Please,” Suguru whispers, and as soon as Satoru has the address, they are off again.

“Can you handle it from here?” Satoru asks once he parked in front of Suguru’s building and Suguru hesitates before he nods.

“Listen, I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” he asks, because he feels as if he has to clear this up, at least try to explain all of this to Satoru.

“Sure, but no rush. Your daughters first, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Suguru mutters as he climbs out of the car.

It takes him a while to get Nanako and Mimiko back in his arms, especially since Nanako is now fast asleep and Mimiko not far behind, but in the end he even manages a small wave at Satoru, who drives away with a smile.

In his apartment, Suguru puts his daughters to bed immediately. It’s clear they tired themselves out and Nanako is still burning up with her fever. He’ll probably have to go out later to get some medicine for her, Suguru thinks, even as he gets his phone out.

He’s still on his daughter’s bed when he calls Satoru, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave them, not when he can still spot tear tracks on their faces.

“That was fast,” Satoru says when he picks up and Suguru sighs.

“They were already asleep. I just put them to bed, everything else will follow later.”

He’ll need to see if he has everything he needs for a good chicken soup at home. He hopes so, because he doesn’t feel like going grocery shopping.

“They’ll be fine, Suguru, with your care they’ll be as good as new in no time. The people at the daycare said it’s just a fever, right?”

“It’ll be a cold soon enough and then they’ll sniffle all around the house,” Suguru drily says, because he has been through this often enough by now.

Still, that initial phone call from the daycare never fails to make him panic.

“Sorry for panicking.”

“That’s alright,” Satoru easily gives back. “Understandable, even.”

There’s a brief silence before Suguru finds his voice again.

“Listen, I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Satoru wants to know and Suguru huffs out a bitter laugh.

“For not telling you. That I have two daughters.”

Satoru stays silent for so long that Suguru’s stomach drops.

“That’s alright,” he finally says and he even sounds as if he means it. “It can’t be easy, right? How old are they?”

“Six. They’ll start school soon.”

“I see. And—their mother?”

“Not in the picture,” Suguru gives back and he doesn’t even sound bitter about it.

He accepted her absence long ago, even though it hasn’t been easy.

“Why—why didn’t you tell me?” Satoru eventually asks and Suguru wonders if his explanation will be good enough for Satoru.

“People are—judgemental,” Suguru says. “I’ve been mocked a whole lot for them and many people have turned away from me when they learned that I became a father so young. It’s not—I didn’t want that.”

With you, he doesn’t say, even though he’s certain Satoru still knows.

“I don’t care, Suguru,” Satoru says, almost sounding angry. “Why would I care that you’re a loving father to your kids? What the hell.” He huffs out a breath. “I just want to help. I just want to be there.”

There are so many questions Suguru has—Now? In the future? What the hell does Satoru want?—but he can’t voice them all. He doesn’t know how to and this entire phone call makes him feel as if he’s slowly burning up.

Maybe he already contracted whatever Nanako has.

“I—I need a moment, don’t call back,” he rushes out and promptly hangs up on Satoru because what the hell.

That almost sounded as if Satoru not only doesn’t mind but maybe wants to be involved as well? With Suguru and his daughters? Surely that can’t be, right?

Suguru’s thoughts are still a complete mess when Mimiko blinks up at him.

“Was that your friend?” she asks and Suguru can’t help it, he simply has to laugh.

He no longer has any idea what Satoru is to him.

“I don’t know, baby,” he finally manages and pushes her sweaty hair out of her face. She has a fever, too. “Go back to sleep, alright?”

She doesn’t have to be told twice, because she immediately snuggles up to Nanako and promptly falls back asleep.

Which is good, because it will help her get better soon but it also leaves Suguru alone with his thoughts.

Satoru didn’t seem mad. He said he wants to be there—to help and maybe more? Suguru doesn’t know, but he’s probably not going to figure this out on his own, so he calls Satoru back.

“Everything okay?” Satoru asks as soon as he picks up and Suguru lets out a long breath.

“Satoru, are you my friend?” he asks and he hates to admit it, but he holds his breath for Satoru’s answer.

But Satoru stays quiet.

“Ah, I see,” Suguru mutters, and his heart aches. Of course Satoru isn’t, not really. No matter what he just said, he clearly does care that Suguru has two daughters.

Or maybe things went wrong even earlier. Who knows.

“I kinda want to fuck you stupid,” Satoru suddenly blurts out. “Or be fucked stupid, I don’t care. And I’m also kinda already imagining domestic scenes with you and the girls, so—being friends seems kind of lacking to me.”

Suguru’s ears are ringing.

“What?” he breathes out because surely Satoru didn’t just say any of that, but Satoru’s nervous laugh at the other end of the line tells Suguru that he really did.

“Listen, I’m kind of right outside? There’s this small shop around the corner, the auntie there makes the best chicken soup—and I brought some real food for you, too—and I have some books here, for the girls? I thought we could—I mean you could read to them, they’ll probably be bored out of their minds soon enough and I also brought medicine? It’s not as if I know what they need, but I described it to the apothecary and they recommended stuff? So, ehm, yeah,” he trails off.

Suguru is still processing everything he just said when Satoru speaks up again.

“You can tell me to fuck off, too, I mean I can leave these things right here as well, whatever works best for you, really.”

He ends with another nervous laugh and Suguru gets up before he can think too hard about it. He really has to see Satoru right now.

Satoru is pacing in front of his door, phone still pressed to his ear when Suguru yanks it open. He blinks at him with his beautiful eyes and Suguru wants to kiss him stupid.

“You want to have nasty sex?” he asks and Satoru goes bright red.

“Possibly?”

“And you want to be grossly domestic with me and my daughters.”

Now Satoru seems to find his footing again because he squares up and nods, much more certain now.

“Most definitely.” He hesitates for a moment. “I really like you, Suguru.”

“I am a single-father to two not that well-adjusted six-year-old daughters,” Suguru says because he fears that some of that might have flown over Satoru’s head.

“Yes.”

“And you don’t mind.”

“I really do not mind at all,” Satoru promises him and Suguru can detect no lie.

“I really like you, too,” he finally says and doesn’t laugh when Satoru slumps in relief.

“Thank fuck,” he mutters out and then holds out a bag with all the promised things. “I can still go, if it’s all too much today, I just—I’m really happy.”

“Me, too,” Suguru admits and instead of taking the bag, he takes Satoru’s hand. “Eating alone is boring and the girls are asleep, so come here.”

Satoru almost stumbles over his feet, he’s so quick to get close to Suguru and Suguru can’t even tease him for it, because he helps Satoru along by pulling him after all.

“Thank you,” Suguru mumbles, his lips brushing Satoru’s and he’s not going to tease Satoru for the little sound he makes, because Suguru’s knees are about to buckle with nerves and happiness and everything else.

“Always,” Satoru promises him and closes the distance between them, bringing their lips together more firmly.

Suguru is careful not to let the bag drop to the floor, but that is about the only thought in his mind for a very long while. By the time they remember the food, it’s long gone cold and the girls are awake again.

Satoru makes good on his promise and reads to them while Suguru prepares dinner and it’s already so grossly domestic to Suguru that he can barely stand it.

He hopes there will be many days like this in the future.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #father geto suguru #getting together #fluff #hurt/comfort #first kiss

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pigeonpeach · 26 days

Text

Something Happens and I’m Head over Heels

Dehya x fmab! professor reader

A/n: so I’ve done this dehya x fmab professor reader stuff in alot of compilations so i decided to do a actual piece dedicated to this idea! Its not my best work because i kinda rushed it but i promise I’ll do better!

Also suggestive themes!

You were smart and independent. A beauty in looks and brain, and also incredibly diligent. Your students admired you as you always seemed so refined, the ideal, the dream. You gave extensions for the exhausted and extra credit opportunities. That is to say you were a beloved professor of the Akademiya. Loved for your contributions and efforts, but behind it all you were human. As depraved as any could come. That mostly came in the form of Dehya, a Eremite you had hired once for a expedition you took with students, ending with a one night stand you couldn’t seem to shake off. Now friends with benefits. You had no qualms about Eremites, just pay them and everything is fine. Besides, crime is bred by poverty so rather than viewing those from the desert as less like a unfortunate amount of scholars did, you saw them as mistreated. You were always looking for charities to support and help educate and offer more opportunities. That’s why Dehya liked you.

“You have a brain but also a heart.” She said. “Both around the same size, you don’t sacrifice morality for knowledge but also you don’t sacrifice knowledge for morality in the right circumstances.”

She truly knew how to butter you up. You didn’t think so. No one is truly confident after all. Everyone is a little insecure… right? Everything was.. too perfect. It made you worry. When would it fall? Would they find out about Dehya and you rendezvous?

But also… just what were your feelings towards her. You thought she was the hottest damn woman in all of Sumeru, but was it love? You liked her, you liked talking to her, she was challenging in the right way. She sometimes was frustrating and stubborn but you had come to understand her more. Her stubbornness had initially infuriated you on expeditions but you had come to trust her. When she said not to go out today on the desert you obliged knowing she had a better sense for the coming storms than you.

The events of today were running through your head. You dissected every detail like it was a paper to grade.

“Hmm.. Collei is a diligent student so its certainly not her lack of effort. It is hard to learn literacy at her age. She’s not too interested in kids books is she.” You pondered. Tighnari sat across from you. You were at Pupsa Cafe discussing Collei’s curriculum.

“Unfortunately not. She seems embarrassed by needing them despite my efforts to assure her. She struggled with big words the most.” He commented. You pondered. Your students were young yes, mostly freshman but those were teenagers at the youngest. Teenagers who had read hard and advanced books before.

“Maybe we could write her a book. Nothing too fancy, just a visual dictionary to help her remember big words. I’m sure Kaveh would love to do the drawings.” You offered.

“That’s not a bad idea actually. I’ll collect a list of the words she struggles with the most and we’ll work from there.” His tail wagged slightly, you knew he’d been stressed over this topic for awhile.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Its my favorite little professor! And Tighnari? Its just my lucky day isn’t it!” A familiar voice caught your ears. Dehya. Tanned and fresh from a job, sweaty and all. The proud smile that a big wage would bring her.

“Oh Dehya its good to see you.” Tighnari responded politely. She sat next to you as if it was natural.

“You too. I actually was looking for you. There was this book on ancient flower species my client found but he wasn’t interested in. Figured you or Collei could use it.” She smiled. “And for you my dear professor I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? You didn’t have to Dehya really I- what is that.” Your excitement dropped upon seeing a long, huge feather. No doubt from the remains of a consecrated beast. You shivered just imagining that thing.

“Ran into one of these big fellows and dealt with him. Figured it’d look good in your classroom.” She smiled proudly.

“Its uh… nice but I usually don’t decorate my space. The teachers often share classrooms that’s why.” You answered.

“Welp itll look good in your office then.” She corrected.

“Rather impressive kill if I say so. Say what region was this specimen in, if I recall you were still in the jungle yes? It would concern me if consecrated beasts started showing up here.” Tighnari inquired.

“Hmm the barrier between the deserts and the jungle actually. It probably came from the desert. But it was nowhere near your region so don’t worry too much. I’ll keep an eye out though.” Dehya concluded.

“I’ll make sure to. By the way is there any recommendations you might have for collei? She’s still struggling to learn to read.” He asked.

“Oh collei! Oh i miss that little squirt! Hmm.. I say you reward her more for good grades. Like maybe take her to dinner if she finishes her books in time and such. Although that might fuel her fear of failure more.” She pondered. You couldn’t help but eye her sweaty body though, she absolutely smelled horrendous but your depraved mind could only think of how she smelt that way after a passionate night where you would be left gasping for air usually pinned or tied up in someway as she’d grin at you. Saying some cocky phrase like ‘now you’re quiet? You were so chatty before~’ to make you tense up and blush. God that thought made you tense as you shook your head to clear it.

“Are you okay?” Tighnari asked.

“Hm? Oh yes, just was thinking of those papers to grade. I’ve had alot to grade recently so I cherish the breaks i get, as well as the existence of coffee.” You held your cup to the skies like a prayer jokingly and took a sip.

“So you’re pretty worked up huh? I always know a few relaxation methods you and I could try.” She winked while Tighnari’s ears folded in annoyance. You tried not to show your embarrassment.

“I’m fine, I’m not done yet with them, but back to our main topic of Collei.”

From then the conversation was as usual. Eventually the idea of Collei getting a library card was formed and Tighnari left. You excused yourself to go back to the office to work. Although your papers weren’t helpful. You sighed. You were glad you had a week off, that way you would have plenty of time to finish grading. You looked back at that feather, you had placed it on your bookshelf that held many personal items, you smiled subconsciously before going back to work.

A knock at your door interrupted your peace. “Come in.” You said, expecting a student or colleague only to see none other than Dehya. “Oh dehya! What brings you here?”

“Well, Candace wanted me to deliver a thank you present from Aaru village. I heard you are helping fund the library Kaveh was helping to build. Course I know you helped out more than just that but Candace wanted me to ensure you got this.” She placed before you a mural similar to one you would have seen in temples or ruins. Of course it was a recreation, in which it depicted the schools of Deshret, with the teacher being similar to yourself. You smiled.

“Its a lovely gift I must say. Do tell her I don’t need anymore though. I simply just like to help others, I don’t need payment anymore than seeing their smiles.” You said. Dehya smiled at you with a warm and fond smile, one you had seen when a old man would look upon his wife as she came from the market. It made you a bit flustered yourself.

“You already know you’re my favorite scholar, but I really do hope the students you’ve taught end up like you. The world needs more people like you.” She said, you felt even more flustered at such a compliment. “I-in other words I wanted to also personally thank you for always being so supportive to the desert people!” She cleared her throat.

“I really do appreciate that sentiment though miss Dehya, I really do.” You said.

“Thank you so much miss! I promise I’ll do better on the retake!” Layla seemed so relieved.

“Its nothing. Just go over the study guide to see where you went wrong and see me in my office in a couple of days.” You smiled sending her off. You watched her leave as you felt exhaustion take hold. You had spent a entire week of endless grading and teaching, with only the little treats you would buy yourself to aid in your work. You had to do something otherwise you knew you would spiral into despair. Immediately what came to mind was the tavern, and Dehya.

“Must’ve been a tough week huh.” Lambad said in response to your order. You sighed in agreement.

“Its testing week so believe me I’m swamped right now.” You took your cup and downed it. Usually Dehya just materializes from somewhere when you’re like this. Somehow that woman can just smell the pathetic lust on you from a mile away. “I just need a little night of fun that’s all.. then i can get right back to work.” You grumbled. He chuckled pouring you another glass before heading off to deal with something else. You even instinctively ordered food, specifically Dehya’s favorite, Charcoal cakes and Skewers. You liked them too but your first thought was that she couldn’t resist a free meal. You sighed, when had you been this impatient? Where could she be? Well she hadn’t gone on a mission, she informs you of those things usually because you like to book her for stuff, she also is almost always at this tavern at this time.

“Boo!” A voice came from behind as you jumped in your seat, relaxing only when you recognized the familiar face. “Gotcha good huh?” She said sitting right next to you. You felt a bit more relaxed.

“I was wondering where you were at this hour.” You admitted. There was no point in hiding it.

“Figured, you didn’t order your usual but instead mine so I figured you were trying to summon me huh?” Her playful nature was just what you needed at this hour. You took a swig.

“Yep. I needed a distraction so I came here.” You said.

“I’m guessing that distraction is me isn’t it?” She joked. Maybe it was the wine kicking in but you just nodded rather than your usual defensive responses. Even Dehya seemed a but surprised at how relaxed you were being.

“You know it. What more could a pathetic lass like myself need to numb the pain.” You groaned. Dehya’s normal cock demeanor changed as she seemed worried.

“I-is everything okay?” She asked more seriously.

It wasn’t. You were loved by all but ultimately regarded as a background. To your students you stopped existing once they left the classroom, your colleagues would go on without you like always, but what stung the most and was the most bitterly painful was the loneliness that home presented. You had considered getting a pet but you worried about managing it. Even your crush Dehya was a conflict, you couldn’t expect her to wait at home for you, you knew she was a mercenary at heart, that she always loved adventures and the outdoors, you could never bring yourself to make her stay if she didn’t want to.

“Just feeling more lonely than usual. Works been keepin all my colleagues busy and my mood is in the dumps. I just need something you know?” You minimized your pain but you were still technically honest. Dehya seemed more concerned than excited like she usually was. Lambad didn’t seem to notice the shift in mood as he brought the food, but Dehya shot him a look to leave you be.

“There, enjoy your meal girls!” He said leaving to do something else. You sighed, taking another swig as Deyha observed you.

“Come on you don’t have to lose anything by telling me, archons knows I won’t tattle on you to any sages.” She said. You shook your head.

“Its not that important.” You dismiss again, but Dehya is unsatisfied.

“If you say so.” She says, but beneath her false acceptance is a plan to do something.

“Its cold outside, why are you taking me out in the wilderness at a time like this?” You whined a bit drunkenly. Dehya’s hand guiding you through the night. It was only a bit out of the main road to the city. The night was absolutely beautiful, your eyes were caught in the beauty for a moment as Dehya guided you to sit on a log while you were awestruck. The stars were reflected in the river below the cliff like a mirror, there was fireflies floating around, as if they were stars in the air that had fallen from the sky. You forgot everything for a moment.

“Beautiful right?” Dehya asked. You nodded. “You have something on your mind though. I can see, Tighnari, Kaveh, even Collei could see there was something you were bottling up. Sorry to go behind your back but we all were getting mighty worried you would end up like one of those teachers who died of stress.” She said. You were taken abakc, reminded of your circumstances.

“Its not actually because of work alone..” you paused, there was no reason to lie now,” I’m lonely Dehya. I’m a scholar, a teacher, an idol, and a inspiration who is ultimately never seen as anything other than that. I love the admiration but just once I wish someone looked upon me with more than admiration for my work but for my personality, desire, love.. I’m a helpless romantic with the worst love life imaginable.” You sighed.

“That’s.. really? Your colleagues don’t flirt with you or anything?” Dehya said.

“Nope. I know its a technically a good thing but… is it so wrong to want to be desirable? To be someone outside of my reports, my work, my job. I want to be somebody who is seen as a lover rather than just s scholar. I appreciate the respect yes, I love my job yes, I love helping people yes, but ultimately there’s no one to come home to. I am lonely, I am human. And humans are some of the most social creatures ever, they go insane without it. I tried to spend more time with friends but my work has gotten too much and… I just can’t take it anymore…” you tried not to cry. Years if insecurities veiled behind a genius mind were coming to light. “I want to be a person beyond my intelligence. I want to be loved, to be held, kissed, fucked, whatever! I just want someone to value me for something beyond than what i can do for them.” Dehya didn’t say a word, just sat by you tryng to judge your feelings.

“I-i didn’t know you had felt that way.. to be honest I’d assumed you could have just about anyone if you tried.” Dehya said. You sniffled, her ears perked as she realized you were crying. The stars illuminated your tears like the shine of a knife.

“I.. i love you dehya.. i know its not going to work. I know your heart wanders the lands and I know neither of our futures align well.. but goddamnit can you blame me? I haven’t had someone look at me the way you do in years! I haven’t hooked up with anyone but you, you push my buttons and boundaries and suddenly it does not feel wrong when you do it. When your hand touches me in areas I’d cover I don’t feel uncomfortable but rather I feel excitement. You provoke feelings in me I cannot handle and ultimately will never be able to satisfy.” You let out. “I understand if you’re uncomfortable with that.. but its how I’ve felt… i never wanted to let you know.. i didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Selfishly, I just wanted to cling to the only source of love I could get.. even if it was just for benefits.. because I love you…”

The air grew still. You felt embarrassment and shame as all those frustrations were gone, leaving you to wonder if you really should’ve just kept shut.

“You know.. its not impossible for us to be together right? I mean, I’m not saying either of us give up our jobs.. I’m just saying that plenty of Eremites have a family at home waiting. Not always in the Aaru village you know?” Dehya said awkwardly. But it wasn’t certain enough to alleviate your anxiety, it just made you feel guiltless for assuming that.

“Could you be more specific about what you mean?” You asked. Dehya sighed.

“I do love you too.” She said. You felt your heart stop, all thoughts and emotions completely ceased. “Hello?” She said with a concerned look. You felt yourself go limp and fall onto your lap as if your spine had been removed that instant.

“I feel like a idiot.” You mumbled as you felt boneless. The exhaustion of the stress and anxiety taking over.

“What was it you said? There’s a idiot in every genius? Something like that?”

“I said that every Scholar has their weaknesses in education and knowledge, but that’s close enough.” You sighed. Dehay hovered over you still concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m just exhausted is all.” You sighed slowly. You truly are your worst enemy. A moment of silence passed as you regained your thoughts, Dehya trying to judge what next to say.

“Do.. do people really not flirt with you? Like.. you aren’t just oblivious right?” Dehya asked.

“I’m a teacher, that’s like the most unattractive profession. Scholars at least explore more possibilities, I rarely get the chance to do experiments on something that hasn’t been done for the past 10 semesters.” You whined. “But that’s not the point.. you like me too?”

“I think the word ‘like’ here is a little underestimating don’t you think? I mean we are grown women here, I’ve seen you naked and we have had sex. I think Love would be a appropriate term would it not professor?” That cheeky grin on her face would infuriate you normally but you were more stunned at her blatant reciprocation.

“But like.. is it just the sex? My body?” You pryed for details as she just smiled.

“Ma’am. Have you not paid attention to any of my compliments? You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met but you’re still so compassionate. As someone from the desert and a eremite I always get judgemental looks or viewed at like some primal savage just because I don’t know as much as they do!”

“That’s because the education in the desert wasn’t as good as us city folk have it, it doesn’t make you dumb or lesser then when you never had the opportunity to be more than average. If given equal opportunities then-“ dehya smiled at your oh so familiar statement.

“Exactly! See! You have compassion that most of your higher ups lack! You don’t write off people as dumb you work to help them! You don’t write me off as dumb just because I’m a eremite! I don’t see people like you very often. Interesting, compassionate, a little stuck up, but ultimately you’re a wonderful person! You care so much for others even if you don’t always show it as much. You aren’t just adored by your students for your intelligence but for your compassion. And for me, its a bit deeper than that. I love hearing you ramble and complain about your colleagues, i like laughing with you about petty workplace drama, i like how charitable you are, i like how you’re always willing to learn more and change your tatics, I like your smile, i like your laugh. Goddamnit I love you!” She sat closer go you now. You sat up, turning to face her more, a strong blush on your cheeks as you were left wordless, but also smiling.

“Y-you can’t just say those kind of things.. they always leave me so.. stunned.. i never thought anyone would love me if I’m honest… I.. i love you too dehya.. i want to live my life with you.. but how would it work?” You asked.

“Simple, I’ll just have to take more jobs around the jungle instead. I mean I’ve already been here lots of times, i’d just focus less on the desert unless its a very lucrative job. I’ll be home when I can as usual. Maybe we could even align it wit your work schedule. I mean its worth a shot at least?” She said, you noticed she was a little hesitant. You smiled.

“Its worth a shot.” You replied.

#genshin imagines #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #domestic fluff #slightly angsty but not really #dehya x reader #wlw #fem reader #not my best work but i have to get rid of one of these drafts damnit #suggestive themes

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