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sansuri · 7 months

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Throughout Heaven & Earth

Gojo x wife!reader | fluff, bittersweet, comfort

Warnings: CHAPTER 236 SPOILERS, reader is dead

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Gojo Satoru finally gets to reunite with his wife after umm yknow bc they’re both in a specific place after chapter 236… don’t wanna spoil notin…

≿————-———————　༻✧༺　——————————-≾

“Satoru.”

As soon as he hears your voice, Gojo’s eyes widen and he’s immediately fumbling to find the source of it. The one he lost those years ago.

His wife.

Gojo Satoru always thought that when a sorcerer dies, they die alone. So why is it that after seeing Suguru and everyone else, he sees you? He guesses that when his students depart the living world, they’ll realize that their teacher was wrong. How pathetic. Truly. And if it wasn’t for the circumstances in front of him, Gojo would be chuckling to himself. Maybe it’s okay to be wrong because right now, you’re in front of him.

“Y/n…” Your sweet eyes meet his cerulean ones.

“Yes, my love?” You’re smiling at him, almost as if the time you two had spent apart were nothing. As if the love he felt for you never ceased. As if the years of your life he failed to let you have were never a thing. But Gojo feels everything. He feels the day he lost you. The way he let his guard down and lost someone precious to him. The one he loved. The day he realized that his life was just a series of unfortunate events. And he’s left there, baffled, that despite the time that’s passed, he’s here with you now, and he really thinks to himself that he should have departed sooner.

“Come here, Satoru.” You’re opening up your arms, welcoming Gojo to come and feel you again. To reminisce what he had lost.

When he sees you standing there, queuing for him, youthful as the day you two met, he’s fumbling to close the distance between you two, to feel you again, to feel your sweet face that he’s missed so much, to feel your warmth. He falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You’re enveloping him in your arms, tenderly stroking his head, combing your hands through his soft tufts of hair. A bittersweet expression painting his face that he gets to see you as your youthful self after all those years apart. Gojo can’t help it, tears begin slipping down his youthful face. The teen Gojo you fell in love with when you both were naive to the veracities of the world was in front of you again.

His tears are falling rapidly, and you tilt his head up to look at him with all the love that you weren't able to offer him when you two were together… –alive. His eyes tinted a light hue of pink, yet his face remained beautiful as always, and he’s tightening his grip on your waist, as if afraid to lose you again. His glossy eyes really accentuated his beauty, his eyes, something only Gojo’s could be capable of. His eyes harbored so much love and adoration for you, and your eyes reflected the same for him, as always.

Only you could ever make Gojo feel the way he does for you.

He really does love you. Truly.

“I missed you.”

You’re cupping his face, tenderly rubbing your thumb against his cheek, feeling the heat that it radiates, and Gojo can’t stop himself from staring into your young face with adoration and relief. How nostalgic it felt to see you in your youth again.

“I missed you too, Satoru.”

He’s back with you.

And suddenly, you’re both giggling. A light laughter that wipes all the regrets that Gojo has ever had when he couldn’t be with you. When he was forced to depart from you. But it’s a laugh that isn’t awkward nor forced. Not one to mask the gloom of the situation, but one that allows both you and Gojo to release the tension from having spent so much time apart, allowing you both to feel the intimacy of the moment.

And you're bringing Gojo back up on his feet, daintily pulling him up by his biceps so that he can meet your face again, but he keeps his grip strong on your waist, keeping you close to ensure that he has you. To ensure that you won’t leave him.

Just as playful as your laughter with Gojo was, you teasingly ask him, “How was Sukuna?”

You couldn’t see Gojo’s face that was tucked in your neck, but you just knew his expression had soured. He nuzzles his neck deeper within your crevice, tightening his hold on your waist, and mumbles curtly, almost childishly, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Geto eggs him from afar, “he didn’t put up a good fight.” He snickers at Gojo from afar, to which you could feel Gojo pout even more. Those two really were something else, but suddenly, Gojo bursts out,

“He’s crazy strong!” He’s glaring at Geto from afar, with that gummy pull back of his lips when he talks about something he doesn’t like. “He wasn’t even fighting at his max!?” He sighs exasperatedly, puffing out one of his cheeks. And gosh, did you think that he was the cutest thing right now.

“But you put up a good fight, right?” You’re smiling sweetly at him, more focused at the fact that he’s in front of you again, rubbing your hands gently back and forth across his arms.

“Of course I did!” Gojo acts offended that you apparently doubted him, but he does it just to get a kick out of the situation.

“I’m the strongest after all.” And he does that stupid signature smirk of his, indicating that Gojo didn’t go down without a fight. You’re sure of it.

As lighthearted as his words come off though, you know that Gojo has always felt alone. So alone that even with you by his side, he’s always felt a sense of loneliness. One that no one could ever truly understand. Because being the strongest meant that he harbored the pressure of the title.

—To be the pillar of strength for Jujutsu.

Even those nights in which he fumbled with his words, trying so hard, with hiccups in his voice, trying to explain to you the isolation he felt, he was never able to get out the words, the forlorness that he felt. All you could do was sit there, holding him close as tears fell down his handsome face, trying to comfort him, trying to understand the desolation your husband was blessed with as the strongest.

You’re reminiscing the bitter memory, one that makes you sigh sadly. “But you don’t have to carry the burden of that title anymore, Satoru.” And at your comment, Gojo’s eyes widened, shocked by your words, but the realization sinks in.

You were right.

He no longer had those responsibilities to anchor. He no longer existed in the world that needed the strongest.

You tenderly wipe a falling tear of his. “You can rest now, my love.” You smile back at him warmly.

If your love didn't exist on earth, Gojo had hoped to see it elsewhere. Maybe in heaven, and he does. Because you’re in front of him, his wife, so he nuzzles closer to you, resting his head against your neck, placing soft kisses against your smooth skin.

The strongest can rest now.

≿————-———————　༻✧༺　——————————-≾

Notes: this is my coping mechanism. I’m now going through the stage of bargaining bc I hope he’ll come back bc his neck wasn’t cut off, like how he came back from his death with Toji bc Toji was stupid and didn’t cut his head off…

#gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #jjk imagines #jjk 236 #gojo comfort #sansuriwrites

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zuyoo · 2 months

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the flowers, one-shot. ﹙ gn!reader ﹚

content warning — profanity, unhealthy relationship, alcohol consumption. characters are in college

zuyoo’s notes — i have surprise at the end mwa. enjoy reading! not proofread bc lazy. reblogs appreciate :<

frequent arguments with your long-time boyfriend is very common. given his attitude, and how long you’ve known him—you grew used to it. but there’d be specific days where he’d completely isolated himself up and locked you—his girlfriend—out completely. you understand that sometimes, self-isolation is okay. it’s understandable and normal. but this has happened way too many times now, “more than both your fingers and toes could count” too many times… and you grew tired of it.

you’re the girlfriend, his rock, his ride or die, but why can’t he make an exception for you? why does he make you feel like you’re no more than what the rest are? simply, why? you two made a promise to each other that you’d be there for each other, that you’d be each other’s safety pins. but why does the same thing happen over and over again?

whenever he’s in that phase again… ghosting everyone, including you. going on a “healing” vacation by himself, without your knowledge on where he’s headed. and before you could even begin to question him—he’s gone from his apartment.

all you could do was complain to your friends and ask them for advice on how to fix your relationship. which most of them answered with…

honestly, they have a point. but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“the way you love is actually just self-harm at this point, y/n”

“it’s all worth it though. he’s been with me since god knows when.”

“whatever helps you sleep at night. just… take care of yourself sometimes.”

he disassociates himself from everyone — he comes back — he argues with you — and he leaves again. an endless cycle.

you’re honestly starting to think that you’re the reason why he’s running away. thank god you have your friends (xiao, mostly. since he has the least to say.) to ground you.

though sometimes, you’ll see scaramouche in his living room, glancing at you to check what you’re doing. or even getting closer to your body when he thinks that you’ve already fallen asleep in the bed that you two share.

you know that he’s trying his best.

he just got back from his 3rd trip in the past month, and you have not spoken a word to him at all. you were mad and you wanted him to feel it.

later that day, he apologized. the scaramouche apologized..

“i’m sorry for not communicating. it was shitty of me, and i feel like a jerk for realizing it this late.”

mouth slightly agape, you didn’t know how to react. scaramouche’s eyes only looked at the ground after seeing your reaction. he had an idea of how upset you must’ve been and he felt like he deserved it if you just ended things with him on the spot—telling him that it’s too late for apologies.

but he flinched when he felt your arms wrap around his standing figure. you two didn’t say a word, but it was like you two were communicating through the fast beating of your hearts.

thank you for the flowers, btw. ﹙ short cont. ﹚

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hwallazia · 3 months

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MAKE UP SEX

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem! reader

word count: 2,7k

tags: smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, switch!woo, switch!reader (both are switches bc I can’t imagine it any other way), foreplay, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dry humping, dirty talk, praise oh so much praise, nicknames (love, baby, princess, love of my life, sweetness...) deepthroat, just the two of them being two fools in love,

synopsis: you tried every way to be understanding, but the lack of attention from your partner was suffocating you. He would have to compensate this to you somehow, and fortunately he knows exactly what you need.

| a/n: I initially wrote this (in spanish) for Arisu from Alice In Borderland, and I randomly read it again today and Wooyoung was the only thing that came straight to my mind. Him being all whiny and dominant at the same time??? Where do I pay?

Wooyoung was right next to you. As always, he was enjoying his video games during the weekend, he had his headphones on and the microphone just a few inches away from his lips.

He insulted and shouted, causing you discomfort, which is why you looked for your headphones to listen to music, looking for a way to overshadow your boyfriend’s voice.

You couldn't blame him. You knew how much his video games meant to him, and how little time he had for them now that he started working.

You met him during high school, and fell deeply in love with him in your senior year. You had to confess your feelings to him immediately, before you parted ways and it was too late.

One lovely, chilly night you did it, you pulled up the courage and said those two words, which would change your lives forever.

“I like you. I like you a lot, Wooyoung.” you avoided eye contact at all costs. You couldn't allow yourself to see your loved one's gaze trying to reject you, in case the feelings weren't mutual. All those insecurities vanished with the wind that there was at that time of the night.

“I… I like you too, y/n.”

You finally looked at him. There was something special in his gaze, hundreds of galaxies collapsing into his orbs and illuminating them, more than the buildings and traffic lights that were scattered throughout Seoul that night.

“A-are you serious?” you questioned. Everything felt unreal, you needed him to say it one more time, maybe then your heart would hit the, now, sweet ground of reality.

“Yes, beautiful. I like you, a lot as well.”

You swore you could die right there. You would finally have him to yourself, something toxic of you, but it was what you wanted most: for Jung Wooyoung to have eyes for no one but you.

What could you say? You liked the attention, and even more so if it was his attention.

After months of dating, on one of the few dates you had in that period of time, he asked you to live together.

“Oh? Isn't that a bit hasty? How will we maintain the house? And the food?” so many things were running through your mind that they made you forget who you were talking to. Wooyoung.

“Hasty? Sweetheart, I’ve worked hard since we started dating to finally live with you, and only you. I even got a job!”

“A job? Are you serious?” you expressed, a smile starting to be drawn on your pink, plump lips.

“Damn right I am. You're looking at the new 8TEEZ’ choreographer, dear.” he announced with a certain tone of arrogance that could only scream “Jung Wooyoung”.

“Choreographer? Love, that's amazing.” you rushed at him, knocking him down the green grass of that park where you were holding your date.

“You’re definitely the love of my life.” he murmured, his fingers stroking your long dark hair.

And this memory is what brings us to the present. Your loved one was resting his body in the comfortable gaming chair you gave him for his 25th birthday, it embraced his anatomy as if it didn't want to let him go —he didn't really want to get up from his comfortable seat either. “Shit!” you heard him shout, despite having your headphones on with music at a moderate volume. You sighed and then saw it, the big screen painted with blood stains and ‘Game Over’ written in a somewhat crooked letter.

“Ugh, I almost had it.” he exhaled to turn to see you. “Love, did you see how—”

His words were cut off when he saw how your gaze did not show the same adorable, big eyes that characterized you, but had now transformed into an annoying, and somehow penetrating look.

“I screamed a lot, didn't I?” he shrugged his shoulders like a little kid, afraid that you would scold him.

“What do you think?” your tone was notoriously angry, yet you had to inhale and exhale a generous amount of air since you didn’t want to yell at him to fuck off. “Wooyoung, try to stay somewhat quiet, not even the headphones can overshadow your voice.”

“’M sorry, babe.”

He took off his headphone set and placed it on the small dark oak nightstand located a few meters away from him. He pushed himself up with his feet to approach the edge of your shared bed, and settle himself behind you. He adjusted himself so that you were between his legs, enveloping you with his strong arms.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading, maybe this way I can unwind” you took off your glasses to clean its glass in three quick seconds and put them back on the back of your nose. You looked at your partner's dark and beautiful orbs and noticed how they moved from side to side slowly, apparently reading the book’s pages. You immediately turned off the screen of your tablet and looked at him in the eyes. “Do you remember what I asked you a few hours ago?”

“Hum, would there be a problem if I said no?” he gave you an innocent smile with his barely curved eyebrows.

“Yes, there is. I asked you if you wanted to cook with me,” a sigh leaving your lips “During these last few weeks, I’ve been trying to do things with you, but your routine is always work, video games, eat and sleep. It's fucking annoying.” you finally confessed everything you had stuck down your throat for the last three weeks. Not being able to see his face made it, somehow, more comfortable for you to tell him your feelings. “I know I have to be comprehensive and all that shit but lately, this has been unbearable”.

“Oh, sweetness. I'm so sorry” he hid his face in the hole formed in your collarbone, resting his cheek on the side of your neck “I promise to compensate you for everything, beautiful.”

“You promise?” now you rested your right cheek against his messy raven hair.

“Mmhm,” he claimed, “And you know what, I'm starting right now.”

And with that, he began to leave a nice trail of wet kisses along your neck. A small gasp slid down your tongue, this just being the fuel for your lover’s plan. He stayed like that for a few seconds, his nose smelling your intoxicating scent until he went up to your ear and lick its lobe.

“Have I already told you how beautiful you are?” he kissed the back of your neck, licking where his lips had passed.

“Woo— Ah, w-what do you intend to do? Mhpm—”

“Make up for lost time, pretty.”

Even though you couldn't see his face, you could feel his arrogant smile. He loved knowing the power he had over you, how much he could turn you on with just a couple of his kisses.

And sure enough, you were melting under his touch, his heavenly touch.

“Babe— A-ah.” nonsenses were escaping your lips. Though talking was practically impossible you still tried to. But fuck didn’t he had you fucked out with just a few touches.

Before you could realize it, he slid his hand under the silk sheets which only covered your legs, dragging his middle finger and ring finger towards your clit, which was beginning to get wet under his touch.

“Wooyoung, oh fuck” you hissed “You know how sensitive I am there- Ahh!”

You finally discovered what he was trying to do, and maybe a fetish of his: interrupt you so you would moan more. In broad terms, fewer words and more pleasure. Maybe you could take advantage of that and get what you wanted.

Your lover moved his phalanges with agility and mastery over your soft, pinky button. At this point, it was funny to you that moment where you asked him "Are you a virgin?" and he quickly denied —he had only fucked once. He now looks like a fucking playboy, satisfying you so well.

“You're soaked, gorgeous.” he whispered “Is this the effect I have on you? Do you like me that much?”

He mumbled before directing his left hand to your nipple to pinch it and rub it against his fingers. Your back arching accordingly.

“God, yes Wooyoung yes. You make me feel s-so good, love.”

You knew how much it drove your boyfriend crazy when you complimented him or verbally told him how good he made you feel. He responded with a growl, attacking your neck.

A couple of minutes were enough for you to feel your orgasm coil in your stomach, making your thighs fall into desperation. Finally, you let your anatomy rest on his chest, completely surrendering to him.

“Are you close, pretty?” you moaned in response “It seems so, you’re trembling so much.”

“W…Wooyoung, shut your mouth— ngh!”

His left hand, which was previously occupied satisfying your nipple, abandoned it, to grab your jaw and finally bring you together in a wet kiss. He inserted his tongue in a few seconds later, drawing a gasp from you. Wooyoung was the one who dominated in that dance between tongues.

“Cum for me, beautiful.” he whispered millimeters from your swollen lips.

Once he gave the order, you came. Your body trembling against him, his cock rubbing against your lower back thanks to your little convulsions from overstimulation. Wooyoung made sure to help you ride your orgasm, his lips leaving a trail of soft kisses down your neck as he whispered the sweetest things to you.

“Look at all the mess you made on my fingers. Since you are a bit tired, I’ll do your job and clean them up for you.”

He guided the fingers he put into activity to make you cum towards his lips, so he could suck and lick them, his tongue savoring your exquisite essence. You could hear him slurping on his fingers which only made you even more aroused. Your back arching a little, separating it from the lump that was crashing against it.

“Wooyoung-ah, I want to suck you off.” your words impressing your boyfriend “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Oh yeah? Go ahead, darling. I’m all yours.”

He settled against the headboard of the bed while you turned and crawled in reverse to reach the height of prominent tent. Wooyoung felt his heart skip a beat when he saw you on doggy style with your glasses on.

Someone is developing a lot of fetishes in a very short time.

You pulled down his blue shorts along with his underwear, freeing his erection which had been uncomfortably covered for a while now.

You didn't hesitate to massage it a little and put it all at once into your oral cavity. You were going to give him the best deepthroat he ever had in his life. A growl crept into his throat.

“Holy fuck, you’re so good baby. You have no idea how perfect you look right now.”

You were so excited by that compliment that you began to suck it and lick it as if it were a lollipop. You massaged his balls to increase his pleasure, and also for him to praise you more.

“Does that feel good, handsome?” a smirk drawn on your lips.

“It feels so- ngh! So good... Your mouth was made for my cock, baby.”

His right hand was positioned in your hair to gently grab it. His chest rose and fell rapidly, clearly telling you that he was close to cum. You took it out of your mouth to run your tongue over the tip of his member, making him tremble. The man felt as if he had been electrified, this was accompanied by a loud moan.

“If… If you keep doing that— a-agh, I'm not gonna last long.” he said softly, his hand caressing your scalp.

You raised your gaze to meet his eyes full of lust and lasciviousness, the shine that characterized your boyfriend's orbs was replaced by a small flame, which could only represent how horny he was and how much he needed to make you his. His face had a strong blush, minimal drops of sweat sliding down his temple due to the cold of the season.

The state of him alone made you think how cute he was.

“Do what? This?” you directed your lips to welcome him into the heat of your cavity and then slid your tongue again and repeatedly, making his breathing heavier and drawing more moans out of him.

“I'm gonna cum, a-ah fuck. Take it all like a good girl.

You watched as he squeezed his other hand, which rested at your side, his knuckles were painted a pretty white, just like your face at that moment.

A strip of cum hit the roof of your mouth, scaring you due to your lack of concentration. You quickly pulled it out to swallow your boyfriend's white essence, you thought that was it since you had swallowed too much, like a shot of juice, but no. You were impressed when Wooyoung's long strips of cum also reached your cheek, lips, and the glasses’ glass making you gasp in astonishment. Your boyfriend was able to speak when he finally came down his high.

“Love... You look so beautiful with... With my cum on your glasses.”

Something ignited inside you. Your cunt was already dripping non-stop, and you needed even more contact with Wooyoung. So you straightened up, remaining on your knees in front of him, two steps were enough for you to bring your intimacy closer to his flaccid cock.

Wooyoung watched you expectantly, thinking you would rub against him, but was surprised when you grabbed his cock and lined it up against your dripping cunt.

“W-wait, I'm still a little sensitive- ng-ahh!”

You finally sat on him, joining you into one. Several moans and pleas slipped past Wooyoung’s lips, and you decided to seal his prayers with your sweet lips.

“D-darling, you're... so tight. It's too much, hah.” his breathing getting heavier and heavier.

“Do you want me to stop, sweetheart?”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

You laughed at his quick response as if you had pressed a button and an automatic voice responded. His fingers were nailed to your hip, trying to restrain himself and not lose his sanity.

You rode his cock as your life depended on it, you felt him scrape against your walls. Eventually his tip touching your cervix, drawing a loud moan from you as you increased the speed of your jumps.

“Is that the spot, baby?”

“Oh yeah, shit. You're so deep, Woo. Ngh.”

His mischievous hand left your left hip to grab the back of your neck and unite you tightly in a kiss, his tongue and yours dancing again.

Meanwhile, his right hand also released your hip to go to your clit and rub it, your cunt squeezing deliciously his member consequently. Both moaning in the middle of the kiss.

“Don't touch there, ngh Woo— ahhh!” you screamed, finally cumming. Seconds later, he did the same, this time gripping harshly onto your hip.

After a few minutes of rest, he held you as if you were a plastic bag and settled the both of you into the bed. Now you were lying face to face against him, his strong arms wrapping your anatomy once again.

He reached for the sheet that covered you before to throw it over the two of you, and you were warmly tucked in.

You sighed before settling down and laying your head on his chest, while he stroked your hair. You were about to close your eyes when your partner moved in place.

“Love. You're still inside.” you punctuated, Wooyoung didn't seem surprised, in fact, it seemed as if you had caught him.

“Aw, can't I stay inside? You feel so warm and so... good.” he murmured, his ears and cheeks blushing slightly. A sigh left your lips.

“Hah, okay. But tomorrow we’ll take a bath. Now we shouldn't feel it because of the cold, but we're probably disgusting.

“As my princess desires.”

A giggle slipped through your red, swollen lips, finally resting your head against his chest, close your eyes, and fall into an abysmal sleep.

“One day I’ll put a ring on that precious finger of yours.” you managed to hear before falling asleep.

Due to tiredness, you only managed to mumbled a dull “hmm”, kiss his chest and let out a small, cute giggle.

“Looking forward to it, love.” you continued, “I love you.”

#jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung one shot #wooyoung drabble #wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x fem reader #wooyoung fanfic #ateez smut #ateez wooyoung smut #ateez wooyoung

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live-laugh-neteyam · 1 year

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97 & 98 w/ whoever from the 101 prompt thing.

maybe reader got shot in the spine and is recovering, but is stubborn and doesn't ask for help. they catch reader breaking down bc she can't stand long enough to wash herself.

maybe Jake bc he can relate w/ him being in a wheelchair previously or one of the boys (Ao'nung, Roxto, Lo'ak, Neteyam) bc they feel somewhat responsible.

can b platonic or romantic, idc.

Thanks!

Take Care Of You ||| sully family x omatikaya!reader

masterlist

pairings: sully family x omatikaya!fem!reader

summary: sully’s stick together

words: 1k

warnings/notes: injury, gunshot wounds, recovery, angst with sweet moments, use of y/n

It was never supposed to happen. The bullet wasn’t meant for you. But how could you just stand there and watch when your brother was in danger? Taking fate into your own hands you pushed Neteyam out of the line of fire.

You don’t remember much after that.

In and out of consciousness you remember Neteyam pleading with you to stay awake, your father looking over your wound, and your mother’s screams. The blood curdling screams of your mother was something that you could never forget.

A miracle.

That’s what Ronal said after examining you. The bullet lodged into your spine should’ve killed you, but Eywa had shown you mercy.

Lucky.

That’s what Norm said after extracting the bullet. Jake insisted on calling Norm and Max out to look at you. Not that he didn’t trust Na’vi medicine, but he was once human. Old habits die hard.

The first few months were hell. You weren’t dead but you felt like you were. You wished you were. It would be a long road to recovery and you weren’t sure you had the patience for it.

Especially when everyone looked at you the way they did. Eyes full of guilt and regret. The pity that flood their eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach.

Your brothers weren’t very good at hiding their guilt. There was a part of you that felt bad for them. You knew they felt at fault and they were letting it eat at them.

“I thought you were a goner.” Lo’ak joked around. His laugh never reach his eyes though. You could see the fear they still held.

Neteyam was with you on the day you finally could sit up by yourself. He was proud of you, he truly felt happiness for your accomplishment. But the guilt was crawling it’s way back up.

You were no longer the mighty warrior he grew up with. You’d never be her again. That split second decision changed the course of your life for forever. Relearning even basic things, everything would now be a challenge for you.

Neteyam hated himself for it. It wasn’t supposed to be you.

Jake was able to keep his feelings to himself. Only letting it effect him in private. He was forced to watch you struggle every single day with nothing he could do to fix it.

He related all too well with what you were going through. Jake didn’t think he’d ever have to deal with something like this again after his consciousness transfer.

But there you were, his babygirl stubbornly trying to recover on her own. He cursed your hardheadedness but a part of him understood. Jake was the exact same way when he was a human. He couldn’t stand the looks of pity he’d received; it made him work harder to prove himself.

Jake blamed himself for what happened. A father protects and he couldn’t even do that. The whole point of uprooting his family was to protect them. Every time he looked at you he was reminded of his failure.

For the past few weeks you had been working on your mobility. Everyone told you to take it slow, not to overdo it. You couldn't help but rush into things, itching for the taste of freedom you missed terribly.

Reaching out for the walking stick your father had brought you, you attempted to stand up. Wincing you leaned onto the cane even more. With one hand you dipped a rag into the bowl of water by your bedside.

You felt gross. It had been months since you had a proper bath. This wasn't what you wanted but it would have to do. Trying to run the cloth over your arm was proving harder than you originally anticipated.

Your body was starting to ache. Your legs felt like they were set on fire. Panting like you had just run a marathon you were exhausted. Not being able to stand any longer you collapsed back onto your bed.

Tears stung your eyes. You were frustrated with yourself. You weren't even able to do simple things for yourself. Grieving the life you lived before you let your sadness overtake you. Hiccuping as sobs escaped you.

Neteyam's ears twitched as he heard crying coming from your room. Protective instincts kicking in he rushed towards your room.

"Y/N?" He tentatively asked before bolting in.

The sound of your brothers voice made you prickle up. Quickly wiping off your face in hopes he wouldn't notice your tears.

His heart sank at the sight of you. Putting up a strong façade throughout your healing process, you never acted like anything bothered you. The broken girl he saw before him was new.

“You were crying, weren't you?" He asked.

“What does it matter?” You huffed.

“What’s wrong?” He breathed taking a seat next to you.

“What isn’t wrong?” You mumbled as more tears fell. “I can’t do anything anymore. I’m useless.”

“You are a lot of things sister. Stubborn and hardheaded? Yes. Useless? You could never be useless.” Neteyam gently wrapped his arm around you for a hug.

“You saved my life Y/N. How could you think so little of yourself?” He frowned.

“You would’ve done the same for me Neteyam.”

“That’s not the point. You didn’t have to. I owe you my life.” He stressed. “Now what can I do to help you?”

“It’s fine Neteyam, I don’t need anything.” You tried you best to brush him off.

“You’re hurt. Let me take care of you.” He pleaded.

“Fine.” You nodded. “Could you help me freshen up?” You asked sheepishly.

“Of course.” He jumped into action taking the discarded bowl and cloth.

“You know we’re all here for you right?” Neteyam asked after a few moments. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”

All you could do was nod. You felt stupid. Knowing you needed help and that your family was more than happy to provide it; you pushed them out trying to do everything on your own.

“What’s dad always say?” His tone teasing.

“Sully’s stick together.” You muttered rolling your eyes.

“That’s right.” Neteyam nodded as he dabbed your skin with the cloth. “You’re gonna get through this Y/N. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll try to be better at asking.”

Your brother nodded seemingly satisfied with your answer. You were the strongest person he knew, he had no doubt that’d you be able to pull through.

After all Sully’s stick together

Taglist:

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#avatar #avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #neteyam #fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction #becca writes 🌙#neteyam imagine #neytiri sully #jake sully #lo’ak sully #angst #sully family #sully family x reader #neteyam x sister!reader

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djarinslover · 7 months

Text

Wanna Be Your Girlfriend

Hii, this is based off the ask *here*. I'm desperate for more Nami fic ideas, so feel free to send asks in. I mean, LOOK at her. She's beautiful and I would die for her. I tried to keep the scene recaps short bc I'm sure mostly everyone has watched the show and don't need to read what happens too. Happy reading!

Pairing; Nami x Fem!Reader (no y/n, no description)

Warnings; canon violence, swearing

Word Count; 2.2k

You're sitting with Zoro after Zeff helped patch him up. You're the surgeon of the crew but you never had to deal with wounds like the one Zoro was suffering with. It was your first time seeing a wound like that. You mainly dealt with bruises, cuts, scrapes and the occasional broken bone back home in your village. Nami wanders in, her brow furrowed in concern.

"Hey, how are you doing?" she asks.

"Me?" You turn to look at her. "I'm fine. It's Zoro we should be worrying about."

"I can worry about both of you."

You feel your face grow hot. Ever since you joined Luffy's crew, you've developed a crush on the redheaded navigator. You thought she was a badass, kind (when she wanted to be) and a cool person to be around. You wanted to know everything about her, wanted to be around her constantly. But to make sure you didn't come off as a lovesick puppy, you steered clear of spending too much time with Nami. She probably didn't even feel the same way and there was no sense in trying to encourage the crush when you had to spend weeks on a ship with no escape. Unless you wanted to take your chance with the ocean.

"Can I have a minute with him?" Nami interrupts your train of thought.

"Of course!"

You check over Zoro's bandages quickly before leaving the room in search of Luffy or Usopp. Zoro was the only one who knew about the crush you had. That was simply because he caught you rehearsing what you would say to Nami during literally any interaction. He was good at keeping his mouth shut, so if you had to wish one of them caught you, you were glad it was him. Luffy and Usopp wouldn't be able to make it past dinner before they let something slip.

You wander from the ship back onto the dock just to see Luffy being thrown through the door of the restaurant. In shock, you watch as Arlong stomps towards him. Fear gripped your limbs as you watched the two fight. You couldn't do anything - you were a doctor, not a fighter! As Arlong goes to sink his teeth into Luffy's neck, Nami's voice calls out.

"Arlong, wait!"

She marches past without even looking at you. You watch as she walks towards the fishman, map of the Grand Line in hand. "I have it. I have the map. I got it for you, just like I said I would."

"Nami. What are you doing?" Luffy pants out.

"I tried to tell you, Luffy. I was never on your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map."

You feel like everything goes silent as her words hit your ear. The world spins around you, making you nauseous as Nami walks to Arlong's ship. Arlong throws Luffy into the ocean, casting you a glance before following the redhead to his ship. You're torn between going after Nami and jumping in to get Luffy. Both moments pass you by as the ship sets sail and Sanji jumps in to save your captain. He heaves him onto the dock as you snap out your stupor and rush to help.

Luffy lifts his head as he asks, "Where's Nami?"

"She's gone. She's a member of Arlong's crew," Usopp answers.

An hour later, after setting sail, you're sitting in the galley staring at your hands. You couldn't wrap your head around what had just happened. No way Nami went with Arlong. No way she betrayed you and the rest of the crew. No way she was only on the ship to just to steal a map. You didn't want to believe she had been lying the entire time you knew her, that she didn't care for you. For the crew.

Luffy comes in with Usopp, Sanji and Zoro followeing close behind, his usual grin on his face. You eye him skeptically, frown deepening as he walks to the table you're sitting at.

"What are you possibly smiling about? Nami left us!"

"Don't worry about that. We're going to get her back. We can't go to the Grand Line without all of our crew."

"What?" You shoot to your feet. "You mean it?"

"Of course. A good pirate captain never lets a member of his crew stay behind."

Your throat feels tight and your eyes burn with the threat of tears. Luffy was going to get Nami back. You couldn't ask for a better captain. Straightening up, you look him in the eye. "Thank you, Luffy."

"So, we're going after Nami. How are we going to find her?" Usopp asked.

"Yeah, we don't even know where she is," Zoro chimed in.

"I know someone who does." He slams a bag onto the table, causing whatever was in it to groan. He opened it, presenting Buggy the clown's head. You jolt back in disgust.

"Hello, boys!" the clown head cheers, giggling.

You end up in Coco Village to look for Nami, according to Buggy that's where Arlong and his crew lived. You follow Luffy to where Nami is talking to a villager, looking for the ransom money the fishman is owed for the month. When she turns around to find the five of you standing there, she hesitates. You feel your heart speed up - you were unsure if it was because of the betrayal you felt or the longing of wanting to be with Nami.

"Luffy? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"This is where I belong."

"I don't believe that," Luffy says. "This is not you."

"No. This isn't the me you want me to be," Nami spits out.

"Nami . . . if you need our help-"

"No. I don't need any of you."

Her eyes linger on you for a moment too long that makes you sick. You would've cut your heart out for her before if she asked. Now she's here saying she doesn't want you.

"I never want to see you again." Her eyes once more meet yours before she turns and walks away, taking your shattered heart with her.

You numbly follow Luffy to the house on the edge of the tangerine grove. You barely processed Nami leaving you in the first place, now you had to deal with her never wanting to see you again. Were all those little moments you had with her fake? Nothing more than an act? You didn't want to believe it, that your feelings were completely one-sided.

In the house at the end of the tangerine grove Nojiko, Nami's sister, invites you in after being promised a meal from Sanji. She told you what happened to their mother when they were young and why she, and the town, hated Nami. You began to understand why she betrayed you; you may have even done the same thing if you were in the same situation. Instead of staying angry at Nami, you directed that rage to Arlong and the rest of his crew for exploiting Nami's pain.

After helping Sanji do the dishes, everyone rushes outside when you heard commotion. Nami was stabbing herself in the arm before Luffy grabbed her arm. The two spoke for a while, you itching to bandage Nami's cuts. In front of you, the small town of Coco Village was on fire thanks to Arlong.

"Let's go," Luffy rasps.

"Right!" the four of you chime.

You run to Nami's side with bandages, cleaning the cuts before she even realizes what you're doing. She flinches when she finally notices you, trying to inch her arm out of your grasp. You grip her arm ever so slightly roughly to make sure she doesn't move it more.

"You shouldn't even be doing this for me."

"Why? You're injured. It's my job to help."

"But I was such an ass to all of you," Nami whispers. "Especially to you."

"None of that matters. Your sister told us what happened to your mother. I forgive you, Nami."

Fresh tears sparkle in her beautiful eyes. You brush them away with a soft touch to her cheek, finishing wrapping her arm with the gauze and then helping her stand. "Let's go kick some fish ass."

Storming the park as the sun rises, you help Zoro and Sanji fight the pirates trying to protect 'Arlong Park'. It was surprisingly satisfying to punch several of them in the face.

"Damn, Doc," Zoro whistles. "Remind me to never piss you off."

"For someone who swore she doesn't to hurt others, you're doing well," Sanji comments.

"Yeah, well . . . they hurt someone I care about. It becomes personal then."

You notice the smirk Zoro throws you but refuse to acknowledge it. When you see Nami speeding down the hill, your heart jumps to your throat. She crashes into Usopp and Zoro first, panting, "I'm so glad you're okay."

She lets them go, turning to you to smile her bright beautiful smile. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

"Me, too. Uh . . . I mean, you too. I mean-" You sigh, biting your tongue.

Suddenly, the ground rumbles. The building that Luffy was still in was falling down. With a gasp, Nami grabs your hand tightly, lacing your fingers together. You could barely enjoy the moment through fearing for Luffy's safety once more. But the fear wasn't needed; your rubbery captain was fine as per usual. You squeeze Nami's hand in relief.

Later, after the confrontation with Luffy's grandfather, you're sitting next to Nami by a fire. "Lots of excitement today, huh?" you say.

"Yeah. I'm going to sleep for a week after all this," she answers.

Swallowing, you decide it's now or never. "Nami, I wannabeyourgirlfriend," you rush out.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"I want to be your girlfriend."

She looks at you in surprise, making your cheeks flare with heat. What if you just made an absolute fool of yourself in front of her and now you have to deal with the consequences for the rest of your life on that damned ship?

Nami must've known you were in your head because she places a hand on your cheek to bring your gaze back to hers. She has the bright smile on her face. "I thought you'd never say anything. Usopp owes me twenty Berry."

"You placed a bet on when I'd ask you? Wait, when did you even know?"

"I've liked you for a while now. I just didn't want to say anything because I knew what I was going to have to do." She shrugged. "I didn't want to hurt you. Then when Usopp asked when I thought you would confess, I figured it had to be obvious I liked you, too. Guess it just took a dickhead fishman to make you see, huh?"

You laugh, utterly overjoyed with the fact that Nami likes you too. She likes you and wants to be with you. "I guess so. But hey, at least I finally got there, right?"

She nudges you with a laugh. "Right." Nami's gaze softens as she looks at you. "Meet me in the morning? There's someone I want you to meet."

"Sure."

The next morning, you meet Nami outside the entrance of the hut you slept in. She took your hand with a grin, leading you to a part past the tangerine grove. There was a large tree with a stake next to it, the name Belle Mere carved into it. You look at your new girlfriend curiously. She blushes.

"This is my mom. I wanted to bring you here. Two of the most important women in my life."

Tears burn in the corner of your eyes as you look down at the grave. You take her hand, running your thumb softly over hers. "I'm so glad you wanted to introduce us." You direct your next sentence to Belle. "You raised an incredible, amazing daughter. I hope you're immensely proud of her."

Nami is staring at you with stars in her eyes, squeezing your hand. She brings you closer to her until you're standing pressed against one another. She cups your face with her free hand, eyes darting all over your face, brushing a stray tear off your cheek. You felt the tension swell, anxiety building up in your chest until you say -

"Kiss me."

Nami swoops in, leaning down to press her lips to yours. The bliss you feel is blinding as you finally get to kiss her. It's soft, sweet, everything you imagined it would be. When you part, you're both breathless. You meet her piercing gaze.

"You're not leaving again, are you?" you ask.

She brings your intwined hands up to her lips, kissing the back of your hand. "If I ever leave, you're coming with me. But no, I'm not leaving. Not until we find the One Piece."

The two of you share one more kiss, giddiness filling each step you take back to the ship.

#nami x reader #one piece nami #opla nami x reader #opla nami #one piece live action #opla netflix #netflix orignal series #nami wlw #wlw writing #anime #opla fic

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kleem-o · 8 months

Text

Camouflage: WerewolfBakugou! X reader

Part 2

Synopsis: Years passed since you and Bakugou parted ways, and Bakugou never spent a day without thinking of you. Did you feel the same? Hopefully he’ll know, since fate seems to always bring you together. Part 2 of this.

a/n: heyy here it is yall hope u enjoy, im back at school so updates in my blog might take a while, but i promise to never leave any of these unfinished (including the brahms!dabi)! Love yall also this will probably become a series bc i like taking things slow lol

“FUCK!”

Bakugou hissed in pain as an arrow pierced his shin. “Bakubro! Here– Take cover!” The forest was a mess. Just a mere hour ago everything was going well. Bakugou and his trusty friend, Kirishima, were guarding the gates just like usual. The war was getting worse, it came to a point where right when you left, Bakugou was forced to train, to become a weapon of war. His parents obviously fought hard to keep their child safe, but in reality no one was. The beastmen’s front were getting pushed too much, they needed more men. And Bakugou is just one of thousands of children that were trained to become especially good at fighting, strategizing, killing.

At the age of 17, Bakugou was already being placed at the front, his parents praying for his safety, as they’re left in horror of the trauma that Bakugou would face. They would be relieved and shocked to see their son back home, bearing medals of honor, human soldier’s heads. The beastmen would celebrate their wins, and Bakugou would become a rising icon for them, hope. Bakugou would meet lots of companions, but lots would leave. Either from leaving the military, or by… other means. One of his companions that never left was his friend Kirishima. It was with this friend that he was guarding the gates with, when all of a sudden humans attacked.

This was a surprise to both of them as it was just a day ago that they won against a number of troops from the humans, were they this desperate now? Regardless, it was still a surprise that caught them off guard, even though the beastmen were currently greater in numbers at the moment, Bakugou still got hit. Kirishima forced Bakugou to stay put as the rest fight, and sooner but later, they won.

“Those fucking human dumbass, do they enjoy watching their people die??” Bakugou muttered as a medic was patching up his leg. “Well, it was pretty dumb, probably a last show of pride? Anyway, we still have to focus, there might be more to it than we think.” Kirishima said as he looked outside the window to watch the parade of victory of their soldiers that recently returned from the west. “What…” Kirishima’s eyes widened as he continued to watch outside. “Hey dumbass, what’s happening??” And without looking at Bakugou, he answered “They brought some humans.”

“I swear to god, how many fucking times do I have to tell them to leave civilians?!” Bakugou yelled as he kicked an empty bottle. They were on their way to the hostages, after scolding and beating up, the men that brought humans in their gates despite his several warnings of leaving civilians alone. He knew deep down that not all humans were bad, hopefully. I mean, he met you right? God when will he forget you? It’s been years and he still thinks of you, the way you snuggle up to him at night when it was cold, the way you played with his tail, the way he let you rub his ears, the way your eyes shined when you smiled, your laughter, and that stupid nickname you always called him– “Fluffy?”

Bakugou stopped dead in his tracks, causing Kirishima to bump into him. “Hey what the hell man?” Kirishima watched in surprise as Bakugou quickly turned to the cell where he heard that voice, and there he saw you.

Your face was thin, clothes dirty, and hair a mess, but your eyes still lit up the same way. Just like the first time you both set your eyes on each other, you were alone.“..Y/N?” The way you perked up when he called your name made his heart literally skip a beat. It was you, really you. He immediately opened the cell and entered to embrace you. “God, fluffy, its been a while huh.” You laughed as you hugged him tightly while he buried his face at the crook of your neck. Your scent was still the same, like home. Kirishima chuckled as he saw how Bakugou’s tail wagged back and forth quickly, and Bakugou’s face heated up at the realization. Quickly pulling away, he pulled you with him “Let’s get you outta here..” But you don’t fail to acknowledge how despite talking brash and walking quickly, his hands held yours quite gently.

Bakugou took you to his home secretly, telling Kirishima to deal with everything while Kirishima reluctantly agreed, not wanting to bear the wrath of his best friend. Upon entering his home, Bakugou got the bath ready, took some of his clothes for you to wear, and told you to go have a relaxing bath while he cooked some food for the both of you. Okay, you got this Bakugou, he thought as his tail wagged quickly, he remembered everything his mother taught him about “treating women right.”

Just as you were done bathing, he finished cooking. “Hey, here I cooked something for us–” Bakugou felt heat rise to his neck as he saw you wearing his shirt with your wet hair. “Thanks, fluffy!” Bakugou had to avoid your eyes when he felt his tail wagging furiously again, fucking dumbass, he cursed himself. You both ate in silence when you noticed him avoiding your gaze. “Fluffy, are you embarrassed?” You giggled as you teased the man. “W-what?? Fuck no! I’m just, uh the food is great y’know.” You giggled as Bakugou picked on his food. “..So.. what happened?”

When you both finished eating, you started telling him all that happened in your life. How you never got to meet your brother, how the village that they left you in got raided too, and how you spent most of your life alone, getting by going from one village to another, until a bunch of beastmen took you. You would joke how maybe it’s because you and Bakugou were the ones meant to be with one another, but the sadness and darkness in your eyes didn’t go unnoticed by him. “So, how’s your life here? Where’re Mitsuki, Masaru..?”

“They’re here in this village too, safe and sound.” Bakugou knew his parents would be delighted to meet you, but not now. It was too dangerous for you to be going around the village right now, he had to find a way to keep you hidden here, he’ll just get his parents to come over some time– “Huh..” Bakugou slightly jumped from his seat when he realized how close you gotten. “Can I touch it?” Bakugou was a blushing mess, his throat was closing up, and he felt his stupid fucking tail wag again. “Huh?w-what..” You kept staring into his eyes, he felt like he was being hypnotized, falling deeper into your soul. Was this it? After years of not meeting, were you finally gonna be his? Just like that? He really wanted it to be more romantic like his plans, but who was he to complain, he’d love to be your mate, whether you’re a human did not matter to him one bit. So, with a blush covering his cheeks, neck, and ears he whimpered. “..Yes.” You got closer and closer and he closed his eyes, ready to kiss you when– “haha your ears are as fluffy as ever, fluffy.”

You meant his ears, fuck. Bakugou felt like exploding, he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, he must’ve looked like a fucking idiot, pouting his lips. “..you.. You’ll be the death of me woman!!” Bakugou tackled you into a tickle fight, just like when you were both kids, but this time he actually won. You both talked a lot, telling each other about experiences you both went through, and you noticed that Bakugou’s was full of glory and… kindness. He revealed that he spared a lot of humans mercy, since not all of them actually want to be in this war right? This made your heart ache because he was right, most people were innocent and were just dragged into this mess.

As the night keeps growing, Bakugou decided that it was time for bed. He lead you to his bed and bid you goodnight. When he was about to leave you called out to him. “Fluffy? Where are you going? Aren’t you gonna sleep?” “Of course I’m gonna sleep, I’ll sleep on the couch.” He saw you looked confused, and that irked him a little, did you not think of him as a man? “A man and a woman in bed, at night, all alone? You sure ‘bout that princess?” Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, and Bakugou smirked seeing you all flustered. “I might not be able to control myself you know–” “-okay, okay! I get it, ‘night fluffy.” Bakugou was about to leave when he said “Call me Katsuki.”

As you lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling you can’t help but think about him. Everything in the room reminded you of him, from the paintings on the wall, the scent of the pillow, even the color of the sheets. It all reminded you of him. And it killed you as much as you loved it, because it reminded you of him, of your mission.

“not all of them actually want to be in this war right?” Your heart ached at Bakugou’s words, because this applied to most people, but not you.

taglist: @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @scrumptiouslampwobblercop @zaiban2989 @kbbksworld14 @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf bakugou #werewolf

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importantgalaxyrunaway · 5 months

Text

Between the bars (Coriolanus Snow x reader)

AUTHORS NOTE 📝 : yall im so proud of this one i think its my best one yet would you want a part two bc i would be interested please comment and o worked Really really hard on this one especially a little longer than normal got a little carried away.

WARNINGS: pining, my post concussion writing, suggestive but no lemon, hardcore making out, fluff and slight angst w/ coryo family, tried my best for snow to be in character, were basically Lucy gray

My hands wrapped around the cold metal bars of the monkey house where I was enclosed in. I couldn’t sleep no, not a wink so I decided to watch over my district parter. It was cold at night, they didn’t give us any blankets. It’s barbaric the way they treat us, just because we’re district doesn’t mean we’re not human. And just since most of us are going to our death you’d think that we’d be entitled to a least a little dignity.

you’d think….

Suddenly I hear footsteps and peer out the bars of the monkey cage into the empty zoo. Well…..not empty anymore. There approaching me is the one person who has treated me fairly since coming here. He handles me like I was a true lady of the capital.

Coriolanus snow walked up to the bars where I was.

“hello y/n….I’ve brought you something” he hands me an intricate compact “it was my mothers I thought it would remind you of me in the arena and…….” He pauses and looks around though no one is there “there’s poison in it. I know, but only in self defense in that arena your going to things you’re not proud of”

I nod “I understand” I say knowing I’ll have to use it at some point “it’s beautiful…thank you” I run my fingers over the delicate and fancy design.

he smiles. That smile that stupid smirk. When I first met Coriolanus I had to admit I was struck by how attractive he was. Paired with holding out a rose for me to take from his hand and saying that he would take care of me….well it’s enough to have any girl blushing like a fool. I tried my best to keep it together but I knew some of the blush was showing on my face when he held out the rose. Whenever I look at him I get butterflies in my stomach. Little did I know at the time he felt almost the exact same way about me and my appearance when he first saw me. But it was my spirit at the reaping and going foreward that truly made him fall for her. In fact the was one of the things that prompted him to arrive with the rose at the train station. When I was reaped I didn’t cry or scream or anything but….well I sung. I’ve always been a performer at heart and though my song was very short it showed that they couldn’t break my spirit.

now he leans down and brings his face close to mine. Closer than ever before.

“Coryo, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again…but I wanted to thank you, you’ve treated me well like an equal and that’s rare. If I die in that arena it won’t be your fault-“

“I’m going you out of there y/n. You’re not just a tribute to me. You’re going to survive”he shocks even himself by saying it. He had never spoken about his feelings to y/n. Not even to Tigris. But with the games tomorrow there was no chance other than now. He was enchanted by her beauty and her charm when they first met, her realness. And though it was hard to admit her survival in that arena now meant much more to him than just getting the plinthe prize. He cared about her. Love was a feeling that was all too foreign to the young Coriolanus snow. He had only ever possibly experimented with a girl or two and that was nothing special just a fling. He was an orphan he never knew love from his parents all he had was Tigris, the grandma’m and now y/n.

I let my fingers slip in between the the bars that separated us and caress the side of his soft cheek. Letting myself give in to the temptation that has plagued me ever since we met. His eyes lock onto mine and me gaze at each other for a while lost in our own thoughts. as I stroke his cheek he leans into my touch so heavily as though he has never felt real love in his life. My other hand goes to cup his other cheek from the side so I’m holding his head in my hands now. He looks up at me and I slide one of my hands down to his neck. He was so clearly touch starved, I could see the desperation and hunger in his eyes.

and we’re both wondering the same thing. is this it? Is this the last time l’ll ever see them?

“Y/n l/n” he breathed like it was a desperate plea.

“coryo…”

and then he leans in close and we are in between the bars. He kisses me at first gently, soft and pure like driven snow. I can smell the roses on him a sweet scent that fills my lungs and takes me away. And we both forget about everything. The arena, the tributes, the fact I might be facing my death tomorrow. Because all I can feel is his lips upon mine. His lips are warm and soft, unlike the cold crisp air around us. We’re almost gasping for air. The kiss turns hot and heavy. More rough as it goes on. Like he was holding back before, now he had given up the fight with control. I gasp as I feel his hand snake around to the back off my head and pulling impossibly closer to him in the kiss. When I gasp he takes advantage of that and and deepens the kiss even further if possible. It was never a fight for dominance he took control. A small groan of pleasure escapes Coriolanus’s lips. I hum in response showing that I’m enjoying it as much as he is. Eventually we break and put our foreheads together.

And there stands Coriolanus snow one of the finest men in the capital, panting uniform messed up, and face as red as a beet. All because of the tribute y/n l/n from district 12. She had more than just affect on him. That was an understatement

not that she was any better…

Our foreheads touching both of us panting for our lives, tomato faced. I gaze once again into those beautiful blue irises that remind me of crystals

“Coryo…I won’t let you down in that arena I’ll survive for us…you’ve given me something to fight for” I breathe out

”and you’ve given me someone to root for. I’ll be waiting for you y/n” he almost whispers the last sentence

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theragethatisdesire · 6 months

Text

much ado about nothing chapter 8 - plug!eren x reader - 18+!!!

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. minors and ageless blogs, please do not read below the cut.

um. hi. i am so nervous about posting this i could die, not because anything too significant happens, but it's been so long. this is not a super action-y chapter, but it's necessary, so bare with me. there's a good bit between the lines, so if anything's confusing, hit up my ask box or just hit me up to chat bc i love this story. we're getting close to the end, but i am .... sad about it. i love this eren. i love much ado. without further theatrics from me.... enjoy!!!!! <3

specific cws: swearing, mentions of drug use, alcohol, mentions of sex

want to catch up? series masterlist here<3

“Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by.” - The Two Gentlemen of Verona by William Shakespeare (Act III, Scene 1)

“It’s about time you got up! I got bagels from– oh, hey,” Historia falters when she catches sight of you and Eren, finally having made your first appearance for the day even though it’s well past 10:00.

“You again?” Ymir says with a snicker, walking past Historia with the aforementioned bagels swinging beside her legs with every step.

“Ymir!” Historia hisses, shooting you an apologetic look. Your face warms, knowing exactly what you look like right now: hair a mess, bruises covering your neck and chest, and the telltale sheen of guilt practically glowing in a halo around your head. Eren’s not much better off; there are angry red scratches down his entire back under his hoodie, and his eyes are hooded and heavy with that satisfied, I just got laid glimmer to them. He looks good like this, you think, sluggish and weighted down with the work he’d put in on your body all night and all morning. Cocky and satiated.

“Where are the bagels from?” You peek into the bag that Ymir dropped on the counter, shaking yourself out of your private admiration and sidestepping the obvious elephant in the room in favor of filling your grumbling stomach.

“That place on Melrose, but I only got three…” Historia looks sheepishly to Eren in apology.

“He’s on his way out,” you answer for him. Eren nods affirmatively, shuffling over to the doorway where his enormous sneakers are thrown alongside a small collection of yours and Historia’s shoes.

“Leaving so soon?” Ymir’s eyebrows raise in uncharacteristic interest, looking between you and Eren, who don’t seem able to truly meet each other’s eyes.

“Busy,” Eren grunts, slipping his shoes on, “I’ll see you–”

“Tuesday, right?” You say around a mouthful of bagel, still not quite meeting his gaze.

“Tuesday,” Eren looks to the sky like he’s mentally penciling you in to his schedule, nodding after a moment, “got it.”

“Merry Christmas!” You call out as he makes his exit, throwing a hand up in acknowledgement and farewell. A few heavy seconds of silence pass, the only sound in the room being the noisy smacking of the cream cheese bagel that you’re practically inhaling as Historia stares at you.

“That was…awkward,” Historia starts cautiously. You frown at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen two people that just fucked look less like they want to be in the same room,” Ymir says from the couch, punctuating her statement with a sharp laugh, “I mean, is it that awkward when you have sex?”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you cross your arms defensively, narrowing your eyes, “we’re just…casual.”

“Eren looked sort of tense,” Historia adds thoughtfully, a little line of worry appearing between her eyebrows.

“I’m sure his family’s been talking to him a bunch with the holidays coming up. Maybe that’s it, I wouldn’t know,” you shrug, not meeting Historia’s gaze. You can almost feel her smug, understanding nodding, seeing right through you.

“So you’re still not talking, then.”

“Of course we talk. You just watched us talk.”

“Not like you used to,” Historia counters, crossing her arms.

“So?” You scoff, letting your annoyance erupt in the form of tearing your bagel into little bite-sized pieces. Historia’s right, she’s right way too often for you to live with.

“You liked him. A lot. And he liked you. What happened?”

“You never told us,” Ymir echoes from the couch, “the last thing you told me at least was that you and Sasha went to Scout’s, Eren practically fought Floch, you slept with him for some reason after that, and the next thing we know, he’s here every morning.”

“Not every morning,” you mumble, rolling your eyes petulantly.

“That doesn’t matter,” Historia says impatiently, waving Ymir off, “it’s been weeks of…I don’t even know what to call it– this weird, awkward no-talking just-fucking thing. What happened?”

“We made up,” you shrug, staring at her blankly, “we’re fuck buddies. It’s not something that needs to be, like, picked apart and analyzed.”

“It absolutely does,” Historia argues, “you went from making goo-goo eyes at each other and staying up all night hogging the couch to what may the be the weirdest fuck-buddy relationship I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“It’s not weird,” you groan, throwing your hands over your eyes in exasperation.

“Is it Breeze?”

“What?” you hiss, pulling your hands from your face to narrow your eyes at Ymir, “what would this have to do with her?”

“I heard she’s staying for awhile, just moved into those snazzy new apartments across from the farmer’s market.” Ymir is either unaware of or unphased by your immediate aggression. She delivers her statement matter-of-factly, twirling one of her many rings idly. Her nonchalance makes you prickle, and Historia notices.

“Is it Breeze?” Historia asks, watching your reaction carefully. “Are she and Eren talking again? Or is he with you?”

“I don’t know what Eren does in his free time,” you roll your eyes, “much less if he’s got anything going on with Breeze right now. It’s not my business.”

“Granted, I don’t see how he could even find the time to deal with Breeze with how often he’s over here,” Ymir scoffs.

“Don’t you two have packing to do?” you ask in a desperate attempt to change the conversation topic. Luckily, Ymir takes the bait.

“We finally finished,” she shoots Historia a meaningful glance, “but our flight doesn’t leave for another four hours, so we don’t need to head to the airport until noon.”

Great. Your patience has already worn thin with the both of them for the day, and just as you’re formulating a plan to bid them goodbye and drag your exhausted body into a shower, Historia jumps ahead of you with yet another question that you don’t necessarily want to answer.

“Have you heard from your mom?”

“Bits and pieces,” you answer, twiddling the hem of your t-shirt between your fingers, “she and Tom are in Costa Rica right now.”

“No invite?” Ymir questions wryly, cocking an eyebrow. Historia shoots her a reprimanding glare, but Ymir’s callous humor is exactly what you need at the moment.

“Of course not,” you say with a chuckle, shrugging, “but she sent me some sweet pictures. They’re cute together.”

“I think Tom is my favorite of the recent boyfriends,” Historia concedes with a small smile.

“He’s definitely better than that asshole from Dubai, that’s for sure.” Ymir nods affirmatively, the unspoken voice of reason in relation to your mother’s dating life.

A few minutes of idle chit chat later, you’re able to excuse yourself to shower, ducking behind the curtain and into the steaming, nonjudgmental spray of water. Your theory these days is that turning the water up to an unbearable heat may scald the weight of everything on your mind off of your shoulders. It hasn’t worked yet, but you’ll keep trying.

Christmas isn’t your favorite season by any means, not since your parents’ divorce. It’s a solitary season for you, one for contemplation and baking. You don’t not enjoy spending Christmas’ alone; after so many years, you’ve started your own little traditions, and while you know the concept of someone spending Christmas alone is objectively sad, you’ve grown to prefer your own company over that of your mother and her boyfriend of the year. She’ll send you her American Express information along with a text to “Go crazy! Anything your little heart desires!” and you’ll spend Christmas Eve playing Santa for yourself, watching movies, and stuffing your face with whatever sugary treat you decide to throw together.

Okay, maybe it is a little sad, but it’s your tradition.

Ymir and Historia leave for the airport, and unsurprisingly, Historia begs you to catch a flight to come with them because “No one should be alone on Christmas!”. You only falter when Ymir begrudgingly extends an invitation, the first year in the three you’ve known them that she’s done so. Ymir shrugs and blushes when you and Historia stare at her in disbelief, claiming it’s because you seem like you have a lot on your mind. She’s not wrong, but you wave them off to Ymir’s parents’ anyway, assuring them you’ll Facetime on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, just to check in.

You don’t consider Historia’s offer until you’ve curled up under a blanket, the fifth or sixth mind-numbing, standard Christmas movie you’d selected not quite doing the trick of silencing your thoughts. You open your phone, pull up your recent texts; maybe reaching out to someone for some lazy, technology-driven conversation will do the trick.

First is Historia, per usual, sending you a barrage of selfies of her and Ymir’s family playing a board game. Even in your melancholy state, the sight of Ymir with her mouth stretched comically wide around a plastic game piece, scowling through her ridiculous expression, makes you snort to yourself.

Second is your mother, sending you an update about her and Tom’s dinner reservation getting canceled amidst short-staffing at the resort restaurant. You roll your eyes at that one; for your mother, the end of the world will surely present itself as a minor inconvenience at a five-star establishment.

Third is Sasha, checking in amidst the holiday season. She tells you that Hitch loved the little self-care package that she put together as a thoughtful, but casual Christmas gift. You text your congratulations back to her, feeling an unfair pang of envy hitting you.

Fourth is…oh, god, you shouldn’t have let yourself get this far. Eren. He’s still saved in your phone as “Eren 10 Shadows User Jaeger”; instead of making you giggle, his idiotic, self-placed contact name only makes a hollow thud ring through the confines of your empty chest. Feeling a bit like twisting the knife, you start scrolling through your texts, frowning at how short and unsubstantial each message is.

> Outside.

> tonight? 10ish?

> Be there in 10.

> i can venmo you for the doordash

> Don’t worry ab it.

The most painful part of all of it is, if you scroll just a bit further, back into the crisper autumn months, the messages aren’t so dry. In fact, in hindsight, Eren seems smitten with you. The messages still give you butterflies.

> Are you in your office was gonna pick up 104 otw to yours but I don’t want it to get cold.:)

> Is developing the six eyes the key to getting you to like me as much as you like Gojo?

> Just did a drop at the library and spied you w your kiddos across the room I didn’t say hey bc I didn’t want you to yell at me (bc youre rude) but you look HOT.

> Got your fav cookie dough to soften the blow for you when we start shibuya arc tonight be there in 10 nerd.

You groan and toss your phone to the other end of the couch, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. What are you doing? Why can’t you just talk to him, tell him that he’s all you think about, that every time he touches you, you swear that it burns an imprint into your skin?

Because it’s not real, your mind helpfully supplies. Breeze. Luke. Rumors. You’re clearly not over Luke if you drunkenly texted him that night at Paradis, right? Or maybe you’re projecting your old feelings for Luke onto Eren? Is that really something you’re prepared to gamble with?

And if you weren’t mess enough, Eren’s only been the commitment type for one woman in his life; out of the many that you know have rotated in and out, your statistical chance of becoming the second is slim. Not to mention the fact that the only woman he’s ever committed to has just moved in a whopping five minutes down the road from you, and is apparently interested in re-opening doors that you had assumed were closed.

With a huff, you grab your phone from where it's nestled into the cushions and check the time. 11:04pm. Still plenty of time to run down to the bodega and scrounge around for some cookie dough, maybe a cheap bottle of wine.

That’s motivation enough to shake you out of your wallowing state, and after you’ve pulled a pair of slouchy gray sweatpants over your pj shorts and thigh-high socks, you’re shoving your feet into some slippers and shuffling down the street, arms crossed over your chest in a feeble attempt to protect yourself from the biting wind. The shock of the cold numbs you to the bone, a welcome reprieve from the watery, shaky feeling that’s been brewing in your chest all night. You storm through it, noticing your breathing get a little looser with every step, feeling very much like you could stay out here all night, leave all of your problems cooped up in your lonely little apartment.

The bodega’s a certifiable ghost town, as expected. You only have your lucky stars to thank that the owners aren’t religious and are willing to stay open this late the night before Christmas Eve. You give a weak wave to the heavyset man behind the counter, a gesture that he doesn’t return. Figures.

Luckily, with most of the students on campus having left for home days ago, the shelves and refrigerators are still mostly-stocked with everything you’ll need. Item 1: cookie dough. A pack of the Pilsbury reindeer sugar cookies should do nicely; delicious and small enough that eating the entire package won’t depress you too much. Item 2: cheap wine. You round the corner a bit too quickly in your excitement, running headfirst into a tall stranger that you didn’t notice upon entering the store.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t–” your voice cuts itself off as the man in question’s irritation slowly slides off of his face. A tentative murmur of your name comes through wind-chapped lips, bloodshot eyes widening in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Eren’s brow crinkles almost comically, furrowing into a frustrated little divot between his reddened eyes as he tries to make sense of why you’re standing in front of him. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“Technically not for another forty minutes,” you counter, checking your watch, “and I could ask you the same thing.”

“You know me, not exactly the family type.” Eren shrugs, a bit of the tension melting off of him. And he isn’t wrong; you do know. During the period of yours and Eren’s less-complicated friendship, he had divulged little bits and pieces of his home life, not enough to give you the full picture, but at least enough that you feel like an ass for not realizing why he was spending Christmas alone. Dead mother, asshole father, overbearing stepmom, try-hard brother. You can’t exactly blame him.

He looks heartbreakingly soft; wrapped in one of his classic massive hoodies, hair tucked beneath a cozy beanie, nose and cheeks kissed slightly pink from the cold winter winds. He’s clearly stoned, eyes heavy, muted, and slow-moving as he looks down at you. It’s all you can do to hold yourself back from cupping his face, breathing warmth back into him. Your fingers clutch a little tighter around the cookie dough in your hand, mimicking the swell of emotion that chokes your heart in your chest.

“Right, sorry.”

“That brings us back to square one. What are you doing here?”

The longing for closeness in your heart hasn’t quite outweighed the sadness and awkwardness of the situation, and you opt to deflect again. Unhealthy, but functional. “Buying wine.”

“And cookie dough?” Eren raises an eyebrow at your currently-occupied left hand. “Did you just get dumped by Santa?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “No. It’s my Christmas tradition.”

When Eren’s gaze softens into something thoughtful, green eyes raking painfully over your bundled-up form, you realize you’ve let your guard down. Even that simple statement has bared something to him, given him yet another piece of you to hold– maybe to drop. It sends a nervous chill over you, and you drop your eyes to the floor amidst a pregnant moment of understanding silence.

“Here.”

You flit your gaze back up to Eren’s outstretched hand. He’s holding a bottle of Pinot Grigio– your favorite kind of cheap Pinot Grigio, at that. When you dare to look up at his face, you can’t read it, no surprise there, but if you had to guess? Something like warmth, something like the beginnings of a familiarity you hadn’t realized had been growing.

When you hesitate to take it, a little too long apparently, Eren pulls the bottle back up to his face, squinting at it, and moving it further and closer from his face. With a stuttered chuckle, you realize he’s trying to read the label.

“Is this not the one? I swear I saw it in your fridge–”

“No, that’s it.” You reach up and pull the bottle from him, momentarily shaken out of your stupor. “Where are your glasses? Were you planning on stumbling around the bodega asking the clerk to read all the labels for you?”

“I left ‘em at your house forever ago,” Eren admits, a bashful hand running over the back of his neck, “keep forgetting to grab them on my way out.”

“That’s right.” Your face grows warm at the mention of Eren– the same Eren who’s in front of you, adorably bundled up and cheeks pink with embarrassment– in your home. The things Eren’s been doing in your home as of late.

More like I’m not giving you enough time to grab them, you reflect with a grimace. Eren’s presence in your life has been hot and momentary over the last weeks since your run-in at Scout’s; you’ve made a habit of not keeping him around long enough for conversation, pleasantries, even so much as nabbing those readers out of your nightstand. Even after this short interaction, a vicious stroke of memory reminds you why you’ve kept your distance– Eren’s charming. He’s thoughtful, he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s so careful with you sometimes it makes your fingers shake. And now, with him beginning to turn away from you, giving you a sad and half-hearted goodbye and preparing himself to check out with whatever meager snacks he’s gathered, you don’t think you can keep observing your emotional vigil anymore.

The first flutters of snow have begun to coat the ground and there’s a cold, Christmas wind rattling at the shop windows and you’re holding the bottle of wine to your chest so hard you might be bruising your ribs when you decide to take a chance on him.

“Eren!”

He turns on his heel slowly, as if he’s about to raise his hands and call a truce. His eyes betray nothing but confusion, but if you squint, if you let yourself believe just a bit…you want to believe that he looks a little hopeful.

“Do you…do you want to come over?”

“Right now?” Eren cocks his head in disbelief. It crushes you a little how far out of the realm of possibility it’s become for you to just…want to spend time with him. The blow to your ego and his lack of immediate response nearly bring your newfound courage to its knees, but you push on.

“I can’t eat all of these by myself,” you lie, “and I have better food than that in my pantry.”

Eren eyes the two bags of chips he’s holding in one hand, looks back at you almost like he’s waiting for the punchline. You do your best to smile in a friendly, I-totally-won’t-cry-later-if-you-say-no type of way and snatch another bottle of wine off the shelf.

“I think they’re two-for-one anyway,” you say with an airy chuckle, “no one needs to be alone on Christmas.”

A shaky smile shatters Eren’s hesitant expression, and he cocks an eyebrow, raises his hooded eyes to the sky like he’s thinking it over. “Uh…yeah, I guess I have room in my schedule to keep you company.”

“Oh, get over yourself,” you scoff, the relief viscerally warming you from your growing smile to your fingertips, “and you’re buying after that one.”

“Some fucked up plan you got there,” Eren chuckles to himself, placing your wine and snacks on the counter, “tracking your fuck buddy down at the bodega and guilting him into buying you wine and snacks.”

“Eren,” you hiss, smacking him in retribution, masking the burn of his choice of words with embarrassment. It’s true, you’ve both wordlessly agreed upon it, but the reminder stings. You shoot an apologetic look to the clerk, but he’s entirely apathetic, reciting the total to Eren in a monotone voice. Your unnecessary chagrin only makes Eren giggle harder, earning him an eye roll from you.

The short walk back to your car is filled with some intentional tightrope walking between unnecessary etiquette (Eren insisting upon walking with you to your apartment, saying he’ll grab his car later; you pulling your Venmo app up, trying to assure him that making him pay was a joke) and the banter that you’d established between yourselves upon first meeting, the easy conversation you used to enjoy whenever you liked. Even as you both lull into that familiar rhythm of jokes, stomping through the light dusting of snow side-by-side, you can feel the precariousness of it all. Who’s going to be the first to decide that you’re too close? Who’s going to run away? Who’s going to wish they had run after them?

“Smells nice in here,” Eren remarks, bending down to tug at the laces of his heavy Docs once he’s made it past the threshold of your door.

“It’s about to smell even better.” Suddenly overcome with nervous jitters that Eren’s in your apartment with no part of his mouth on you, you scurry over to the oven to begin preheating it, urgently in need of something to do with your hands.

“Where’s ‘Stor?” Eren ambles along behind you, seemingly far more at ease than you judging by the way he slouches against the counter.

“Ymir’s parents have them come up that way every year.”

“You didn’t want to go?”

“It’s their thing.” You try to disguise the sudden tightness in your voice with a tinny note of disbelief, as if Eren should have inherently known that you elected this lonely Christmas celebration. “Hand me a baking sheet?”

“Where?”

“Down there.”

Your intonation must have carried the desired effect because Eren doesn’t press the matter further, following your instructions and producing a rectangular pan from one of the lower cabinets of your kitchen. You work wordlessly and in tandem with one another. Eren produces two wine glasses when he sees you scrounging around in the drawer for a corkscrew; he begins to scoop healthy dollops of cookie dough from the package with the spoon you hand him as you pour two not-so-healthy glasses of wine for you both. The silence is interrupted by Eren’s poorly-muffled snickers when he watches you take your first sip of wine.

“What?”

“Am I that bad?” Eren directs a playful, but meaningful, glance at your wine glass, a fourth of which you’ve just knocked back in one sip. You feel your cheeks warming, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Has nothing to do with you. Just…thirsty.”

"Is it awkward? Me being here?"

"I invited you," you say, not quite wanting to acknowledge that, yes, being around him fully-clothed is a little strange. It isn't an unwelcome strangeness, but you're not about to let that little confession fly either.

“We used to be friends,” Eren muses quietly, uncharacteristically outspoken. That makes your eyes widen; you almost wonder if he’s spoken without meaning to.

“We’re still friends,” you murmur against the rim of your glass, taking another large swig. Eren shrugs, very focused on portioning out the cookie dough. “We are.”

“I know.” Something about his voice shatters you, makes your fingers grip around your glass tight enough to break. You can almost see the self-provided rejection flitting across his face; it’s quick, but it’s cold enough to feel.

“Eren–”

“Friends.” Eren’s eyes flit over towards you in a gesture of laying arms down, and his lips tighten in a smile that threatens you to challenge the tentative peace he’s building between you both. The word stings when it hits you, bittersweet and ironic. Another fourth of your wine disappears in a single sip, and you smile back in a way that you hope looks more kind than it feels disparaged.

The cookies are baked, the necessary seating arrangements are settled upon, the glasses are refilled, and soon you’re snuggled up on the right side of your couch, feet stretched into Eren’s lap, practically dozing off to a Christmas romcom. Eren is, surprisingly, enthralled, intensely focused on the television and leaning forward in a way that’s bending your ankles uncomfortably but is too adorable to tell him to stop.

“So he’s not going to chase her?” Eren turns to you, devastated and frowning a bit. You snort into your second glass, finding his furrowed brow and flushed cheeks funnier than the mayhem that’s been building on the screen for the last hour.

“You have to watch!” You kick him meaningfully.

Eren receives your kick like a child, groaning dramatically and shooting you a look cold enough to kill. He throws himself back into the couch, absentmindedly taking one of your sock-covered feet in his massive hands and kneading his thumbs into the arch of your foot. He presses into a particularly tender spot, working a soft groan of appreciation from you; Eren’s lips tighten, and he subtly moves your heels a little further away from his crotch, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He rubs firm circles into the sides of your ankles, running a thumb up your leg to the back of your knee, beginning to extend his massage up your leg.

A breathy moan falls from your lips, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, the corner of Eren’s mouth quirks up.

“Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, eyes fluttering shut. You can hear the rustle of Eren’s hair against the couch as he nods, the movie now long faded away into your peripheral focus.

Just as you’re beginning to truly melt into yourself, scooching just the littlest bit towards Eren so he can start rubbing at your thighs, something glimmers into your consciousness. Eren’s your fuck buddy, he said it himself at the store. The gooey, soft emotion that’s welling in your chest, the thing that’s rendering you spineless and malleable that you don’t dare to name– it’s unseemly. The realization crashes over you like a bucket of ice water, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck and causing your eyes to fly open.

Something sickly and sour curls behind your ribs, darkening the contented little glow that had begun to grow there. You feel sick, you feel sixteen again, you feel like a lamb being fattened up for the slaughter. Eren’s not Prince Charming; he’s your fuck buddy, just like he said. You’d done a thorough job of establishing that dynamic, and you remember that as sweet as everything around you might taste, it’s artificial. He’s here for something.

Eren doesn’t notice the change in your demeanor, the stiffening in your muscles; not until you’re climbing into his lap, at least.

“What are you–”

You cut him off by slotting your lips against his, gripping into his shirt with such a fervor that the self-loathing behind it could be confused for mindless want. Eren hesitantly reciprocates, hands sliding down your waist and landing firmly at your hips, leaving a soft impression in the skin there. You rake your fingers through his hair, kissing him deeper and more frantically, bringing your hands down to tug at the hem of your sweatshirt–

“Hey.” Eren’s quiet voice against your lips freezes you where you are, fingers still twisted in the bottom of your shirt.

“What?”

“What’s all this?” Eren’s hand is against your cheek, brushing a strand of hair out of your eyes. It’s so gentle it nearly burns, scalds against the cold, callous arousal you’ve built up in yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Your voice is weak, all the fire you’ve contrived fizzling out as your words cross the barely-there gap between your mouth and Eren’s. Your hands fall into the space shared between your laps, fingers curling and uncurling to mask the tremble running through them. Your gaze stays fixed on them, monitoring for any visible signs of weakness, unable to glance up to meet Eren. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Eren murmurs, forehead pressed unwaveringly against yours, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It was nice,” Eren says, a little breathless and disbelieving, “it was nice before.”

“So don’t you want…this?”

“I mean, yes. I always want this,” Eren punctuates his statement with an airy chuckle, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I don’t always need it.”

“I feel like I upset you.” You can’t stop the embarrassed frown from working its way onto your face amidst your confusion. This…this is what you and Eren do. Now that it’s been refused, you don’t know where to put your wandering hands, where to tuck the rush of needing to touch him.

“I’m not upset,” Eren says, still barely audible as he thumbs at your chin, “you made my shitty day a lot less shitty, actually.”

“Why was it shitty?”

“My dad.” Something dark and coarse has infused his voice now, rasping against the warm air between you. Despite the rough tone of his voice, Eren’s moving a hand up and down your back soothingly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. It works– your body goes slack in his hold, slumping against his chest and nuzzling your nose into his shoulder. “Won’t bore you with the details.”

“Tell me.”

“You don’t want to–”

“I do.” You pull back from where he’s pinned you, bringing your forehead back to rest against his. “Even if I’m just your fuck buddy. You can talk to me.”

Eren sighs, heavy and resigned. Even with your vision blurred by how close you are to him, you can see a wry smile twisting the corner of his mouth. “You’re not my fuck buddy.”

“I know. Friends, right?” You hardly dare to breathe against him, heart thudding viciously in your throat to the point that you worry Eren might hear. It’s not a word that encompasses what you feel for him, the mess you’ve both created between yourselves, but it’s your scapegoat, your fallback. No matter how many times you catch his lingering glance as he leaves you in the morning, no matter how often you delve into a bottle of wine and hover your thumb over his contact, no matter how closely he haunts your every thought. Friends.

The hint of a smile disappears from his face. Eren shakes his head against yours, fingers ghosting along your thigh, up your arm until he lands his hand over yours, curls them together in a loose fist against his chest.

“No.” You aren’t sure that you’ve heard him correctly, how quietly he speaks.

“No?”

“No,” Eren confirms, tightening his grip around your hand, “we’re not friends.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the same time Eren’s eyes flit up to meet yours, doubling down on the little confession he’s breathed into you. You’re powerless to do anything under the weight of your fear, your relief, your confusion. It’s enough for now, the understanding that no, you’re not friends and maybe you’ve never been, hanging between you and making the air a little more palatable.

“Not friends.” A little nod from you draws a shaky exhale from Eren, an answering nod of his own, and it feels like you both have mutually agreed to set whatever’s been building, whatever’s too-hot-to-touch, to the side for the time being. It’s enough.

He holds you, and you let him, despite the growing ache in your hips, the restlessness of your feet as they fall asleep. Eren tells you about his father, the career path he’s still afraid to go down. You tell him about your mother, how the emotional distance between you always manages to somehow be greater than the geographical, how love is her number one priority except when it comes from you. Both of you listen in reverence as you map out your scars for each other, delving into what’s healed and skating carefully over the parts that are still tender.

The couple on-screen reunites with a zoom shot and a dramatic kiss in the Christmas snow. The soaring orchestral number that accompanies their reunification is one that’s just loud enough to cover the sound of you and Eren’s hearts beating in tandem, and the clatter of his phone vibrating repeatedly on the kitchen counter.

#much ado about nothing #much ado #much ado uni #much ado universe #much ado verse #eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you

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sixosix · 2 years

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𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐔: 𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒

blurb you’re trying to flirt with your best friend; kuroo’s losing his fucking mind.

# gn!reader, fluff, slight angst(?) bc kuroo’s a dumb bitch, friends to lovers :)

your shirt’s askew, revealing the smooth skin of your neck.

kuroo stares.

he’s not sure how long you’ve been looking like that, but it sure as hell feels like it’s been forever. he feels his face burning, but nothing else is coming to mind. he’s zeroed in on the exposed slope of your neck, and he feels like he can't breathe. or maybe he's breathing too hard.

you wave a hand. “kuroo…? you with me?”

he exhales, hard. “sorry—” he forces himself to calm down; to think about anything but biting you like a crazed vampire. “sorry, sorry. just, remembered something.”

you tilt your head, and it shows the slope of your— kuroo chokes, but mentally. “about?”

about how much i’m in love with you.

what? kuroo recoils at his own thoughts.

“nothing important,” he lies through his own teeth.

your eyes seem to lose brightness for a split second, had kuroo not been paying attention. “oh, alright.” you turn away from him, fixing your shirt.

why does it feel like kuroo’s not the only one disappointed?

you’re on his lap.

okay, he seriously doesn’t know how you pair ended here. it was only supposed to be a movie night (when is it only just a movie night, tetsu-chan? a voice that suspiciously sounds like oikawa whispers in his mind) but then you two inched closer and closer to each other like a gravitational pull.

and now you’re sleeping on his chest and kuroo is just melting because you look so adorable that he wants to kiss the hell out of you. but you’re asleep, peaceful and unaware of his internal conflict—like always.

“love you, tetsu,” you murmur sleepily against his chest as kuroo stiffens.

he runs a hand through his face, exhaling deeply.

“love you, too.”

“this is bad,” kuroo says into the phone next to his ear, gripping the pillow on his lap like it’s offended him. “this is really, really bad.”

it’s the fifth day of kuroo losing his shit while you unintentionally flirt with him while in the same house.

“you’re just making it bad,” kenma says. kuroo hears the clicking of kenma’s mechanical keyboard—it sounds extremely expensive. his best friend sighs, “i don’t get why you don’t just admit it to y/n.”

kuroo bristles at the thought, scowling at an imaginary kenma right in front of him. “you want me to just— hey, baby, this sounds crazy and you might slap me after this, but i am in love with you and have been since middle school!”

he scratches the nape of his neck, suddenly embarrassed at kenma’s deadpanned silence.

“i was talking about y/n giving you awkward bo—”

“woah, woah, hey! keep it PG!” oikawa shrieks, and it’s a painful sound. kuroo honestly forgot that he’s also on the call. “but kenma-chan is right, you know? kuroo tetsurou, you’re not only going to die a virgin—but also a coward for never confessing!”

“i’d rather die both than have y/n avoid me,” kuroo murmurs, and his brain decides to be a bitch and give him a flashback on how you looked so cute with his shirt.

kenma stops clicking, muttering an interested: “oh?”

oikawa makes a noise that sounds part amazed and part bewildered. “wow, you really love y/n-chan, don’t you? i thought this was just horny-kuroo speaking, but this is past that.”

“it’s been past that for ages,” kuroo hisses. “and now i’m torn between just kissing the life out of y/n and hibernating in my room for even thinking about that.”

“nevermind, you’re just really stupid,” kenma goes back to clicking.

sugawara—again, kuroo doesn’t know how they’re here—laughs; it’s the evil one. “we all know that. how could we even expect it to be different?”

“hey, shut the fuck up!” kuroo barks as oikawa cackles, followed by a thump. kuroo assumes he fell on the floor. “just because i’m at the top of my class doesn’t mean you should be jealous.”

“king of the class yet also king of being obliviously a dumbass,” kenma says; and it’s even worse when kenma teases him because it’s so deadpanned that he sounds deadly serious.

kuroo leaves the call, throwing his arms in the air.

he wanted some bro talk. he wanted some bro advice. instead, he got some bro-punch in the bro-face because his friends are keeping an inside joke from kuroo—and they keep saying you’ll find out when the time is right!

kuroo catches a glimpse of you from outside his room where his door is pushed open: you smiling at your phone. it’s a soft smile, and it looks good on you. he wonders when you’ll give that to him.

kuroo sighs to himself, turning away.

when will the time ever be right?

“guys, i think i’m giving up,” you announce one faithful day, walking into the kitchen while kuroo’s rereading his school materials.

kuroo listens half-heartedly, wondering who you’re talking to. and then he keeps reminding himself to focus on his goddamn chemistry textbook.

“no, dumbass. i tried everything!” you yell into the phone, pouring water in a glass. but with one hand on the phone, it wobbles dangerously.

without thinking too much, kuroo rushes to your side, standing right behind you as he steadies the glass for your sake. he will get a heart attack if you break this glass and get it all over you—and he does not want to get one right now.

your warmth is a distraction, and he barely catches it when you smile and thank him.

the person on the phone continues talking as you fill the glass to the very brim, and kuroo finally allows himself to release his grip.

“careful,” he says. “that one’s heavier.”

“gotcha,” you say, grinning in amusement. “no, tooru—” what? you’re talking to oikawa? “i’m not trying to be subtle… tips? fuck that book! that was written by a man anyway, i should know what i’m doing better.”

speaking of, kuroo should probably go back to his textbook.

“yes, i’m just going to do it,” you grumble, and kuroo actually likes that nose wrinkle you do. it’s cute. he pokes it and you stick your tongue out at him. “yeah, he’s right in front of me; you get to have a front row seat.”

but you’re also holding onto his wrist so he’s kind of stuck right now.

you look up at kuroo, stating: “tetsurou, i have been trying to flirt with you for the past week. tell me now, are you not interested in me or?”

“what.”

“that’s not an answer.”

kuroo’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. “you’re serious.”

“as serious as i have been flirting with you,” you answer back.

“what the fuck,” kuroo breathes, and he’s sure he’s blushing madly because you’re unable to hold in your little giggles that make him feel warmer. “what the fuck.”

“still not an answer.”

“i’m fucking in love with you,” he adds hurriedly, knocking the phone away from your grasp in lieu of holding your face. he tries to convince himself that this is real. “and i am so sorry that i am ridiculously stupid.”

“oh,” your eyes soften, hands coming on top of his, “me too. i’ve been in love with you for months now. it’s kind of driving me crazy.”

“try years.”

you huff sharp laughter, squeezing his hands—and he melts into your touch, knocking your foreheads together. “so competitive. are you gonna kill block me from a kiss now?”

“never in my life,” he mutters, and slots his lips into yours; like the way he could’ve been doing all this time.

“can you wear my shirt again? that one really got me going.”

“i’m still here!” oikawa shrieks, mortified.

haikyuu taglist [ @crystal-lilac @jaepann @bun-ina ]

#606:HQ #606:NKM #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kuroo tetsuro fluff #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsuro kuroo x reader #x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagine

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dozing-marshmallow · 7 months

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Pls i NEED more Chris McLean x reader. I NEED😭🙏 ive read everything of him on here😓

So pretty please something like chris mclean x wife reader and like, the whole tdi cast gets to meet her bc they didnt believe that Chris had a wife at first?😇

TRUST ME WHEN I SAY I feel the exact same way😫 I love Chris so much and it’s such a huge pleasure that I can write for him while having other people who love him enjoy it as welllll. I will be writing him for a very long time so you can always expect something new evolved around him to come up ;)<3

CHRIS MCLEAN X WIFE! READER HEADCANONS

Having your daily hug with Chris, the tender moment reminds you of what he told you earlier.

“Were you being serious when you told me the kids laughed at you when you told them you were married?"

“Mhmm.” he responds from underneath you,“They called it a sick joke and told me that stand up comedy was way in my league.”

“Aw darling.” you kiss his forehead,“I’m guessing you’re gonna ask a favour for me to stop by to prove them wrong?”

He raises an eyebrow,“What do you mean? Stand up comedy is in my pursuit. I just don’t prefer it, doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

He can be so silly sometimes,“I meant your marital status, baby.”

“Oh, yeah...” he holds onto your wrists,“Please?”

You let your body relax completely on top of his, still smiling,“Your wish is my command.”

“Aw what’s the matter, McLean? Couldn’t your wife make it?” Duncan was the first to pick up on ridiculing Chris, eyes still puffy from his chronic cries of laughter from last night. On another circumstance, Chris would’ve been fuming, had he not have reason to smirk.

“How sweet of you to worry, Duncan!” the host begins off, clasping his hands,“But she’s made it in one piece!”

On cue, you walk into the mess hall, linking your arm with Chris’,“Hii everyone! So happy to finally see you all in person!”

All conversation died.

Everyone turns to you.

This woman they’ve never seen before...

His... His wife?

Were they hearing that right?

No way... He was being serious?

Chris was rolling on the inside at the shared alike look of being slapped spread across the contestants, especially of the mocking kind.

“I...didn’t know you had enough space in your heart to love someone else!” Beth’s the first to break out of her ice of shock to chirp.

“Surprised?” Chris chuckled, allowing you to introduce yourself, which was not what you guys decided.

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N)! This hot mess’ wife...” turns out improvising in front of teenagers wasn’t as fun as it sounded,“Sorry, I’m...not too good with words, so...help yourself to these cupcakes I made for you guys. I made them as a way to say how huge of a pleasure it is to meet you all!”

As you turn around to unwrap the trays, Leshawna clears her throat to privately address the cohort,"One of two things are gonna happen. One, those cupcakes are filled with maggots and hair. Or two, it's the first actual food we're gettin’ on this set."

Everybody nods in agreement.

They were right to inspect the wrapping and texture with their noses and eyes.

Yet didn’t expect to have the flavour of delicate buttermilk crumble on their tongues.

Oh my God...

Maybe they were deprived from having treats so long on the show, but it was unanimously categorised as a whole new delicious nonetheless.

The punk delinquent scoffs over,“Yeah... I’m not buying that’s his wife.”

“That evil maniac with a permanent smile is probably holding her hostage!” The ginger geek dramatically pinpoints.

“I can see why, these are too die for!” Owen squeaks, scoffing down an entire cupcake, wrapping included, not comprehending what situation it would mean for you if you really were abducted.

“Hm... Maybe he’s paying her.” Gwen suggests alternatively after taking another glance at you: it was your arm around him. Too touchy to be forced...

“I’d understand if he was hot like me, but he’s not even halfway there! Where would he find someone willing to do all that for him? No amount of money should convince anyone to ever lose their dignity for the likes of him." Justin criticises out of his internal debate of skipping the cupcakes or not.

“You’d be shocked if you’ve seen the fansite.” Noah opposes like it was the most known thing.

Speaking of which,"Sierra.” Heather directs, taking sudden control of the situation and everyone’s eyes to peel towards the superfan whose mouth was staining in the same dye as her magenta hair, perking up from her snacking at the mention of her name,“You know everything about everybody. Say, is Chris paying that woman to pretend to be married to him for laughs?"

The girl whose lifeline was Total Drama quickly swallows the last portion of her cupcake to appease her idols with a packed answer,“Oh, no! It’s all true! Unfortunately. Those two got married way before Total Drama was aired. A lot happened’s... My mom waited years for Chris to propose to her and there he goes, chasing after that nobody! Do you have any idea how painful it is to see my mom’s husband having an affair? (Y/N) is nothing but a block of concrete, blinding Chris from seeing his true soulmate! A.k.a my mom!” The last few sentences gradually grazed with personal prejudice, but not enough to throw the next cupcake away.

“Wait, but if Chris did get married to your mother... Wouldn’t that make you his stepdaughter-?“ Alejandro posited, already having a hard time imagining Chris take that role biologically.

"So Chris,” Cody interrupts the impending awkward ambient Alejandro’s phrasing would bring, steering the conversation back, still bewildered,“...really does have a wife."

Bridgette takes her slo mo time in grabbing another frosted vanilla good, rethinking, the same man that laughed at their pain,"I...honestly don't know how to feel about that."

"Huuu... I feel like I went overboard with cupcakes, Chris!” you freak out to your husband, fidgeting with the sleeves of your turtleneck,“Why did I pick to make something so childish? I should've picked something more formal... Like a dish from my home country..."

"Relaaaaax, no one else is thinking about that." Chris assured, biting into one of your delicacies.

You continued to murmur on,“I wanted to make something universal, a collection of sweets so in case one likes a certain flavour more than others... I thought teenagers around here liked cupcakes... I feel like such a fool... I hope they don’t think I see them as childish...”

He grabs one and holds it horizontally to your lips, painting them yellow,“It’s not just teenagers that like them, (Y/N). Besides, they are children. Children like things that are childish.”

That’s true... Your paranoia’s sunk,“Well... They seem to be enjoying themselves. I’ve been worrying for nothing.” you smile, drawing your finger on his stubble to take for licking,“You had some icing there.”

Turns out, you were really nice.

The angel to Chris’ devil.

The sun to Chris' moon.

The calm to Chris’ energetic.

“So (Y/N)... I just...have a quick question on behalf of everyone else.” The CIT girl shields her mouth with her hand, like she didn’t want anyone else to hear.

“Of course, Courtney. Whatever would you like to know?” you welcome her, all kinds of possible questions cloud your mind.

She tightens your shoulders in her palms,“What the hell do you see in Chris?”

...You expected that one,“Why, I see a strong, handsome, hilarious man. A goal-driven, deep down caring, loving, in need of love man.”

Now the only true thing she heard was “goal-driven”- to kill them as spiritually as possible. Maybe even physically.

"You're not brainwashed, are you?" Her eyes widened like your answer had tossed her deeper in her horror.

"Get her to blink two times in a row if she needs help!" Tyler shouts, unintentionally defeating the purpose of being discreet from his clean intention.

"Hm?” Teenagers are so funny!,“It's not brainwash when it's love! After all, wouldn't you say you've found yourself in love with someone you never thought you'd be with?" You smile warmly at the type A when the butterflies fluttered an external reaction across her freckled face.

"Th-That's different!” she impulsively shrieked before closing her mouth in embarrassment. She looks around, and after making sure no one was judging her, she continues speaking, back to her whispering voice,“That’s Duncan. This is Chris.”

“Well, we both seem to have a type for the ones that went to jail, don’t we?” you wittily mention, giving her a wink to the similar parallel.

Leaving Courtney to her common dynamics contemplation, there was no better timing for Owen to ask if you had any more cupcakes to give.

“I’m so happy you liked them! I’ll tell you what, I can make more and send them to you."

“Don’t get too flattered. Bed crusher there would eat anything, even things you can’t call food.” The overruling antagonist scornfully gestures, her hair as black as her heart.

“...Ah, right.” you shouldn't have thought so highly of yourself over baking. To Owen, they probably weren’t good, just something to give his appetite.

“Well... That's not entirely true...” The foodie looks to the side uncomfortably for a moment from Heather’s harsh perspective,“Having eaten a lot of things gives me a solid judgement on a variety of tastes. With that said, I’d specifically be really happy to eat (Y/N)’s baked cupcakes again. You can't buy that kind of quality!"

Aw! “Thanks, Owen!” it’s no mystery why everyone was in his support back first season!

“You didn’t use any store bought cake mix, did you?” DJ asks, his naturally kind pitch of voice crunching up an otherwise accusing delivery his words may have played.

“Nope! If I was gonna have half of the ingredients already done for me, I may as well have just ordered the finish product.” the truth radiates through your magnetism, not as magnetizing as your husband, smothering you away in his arms.

For some reason, no one said anything right away. Like taking an exam, silence had scattered among these group of teenagers.

"I'm convinced she has Stockholm syndrome."

Up till Harold breaks it.

"Stockholm syndrome?! Come onn, you know that’s not a real thing!” Lindsay asserted, turning to Beth,“Is it a real thing?"

The nice-hearted nerd smacks a hand to her forehead. Rather than finding humor in uninformed Lindsay, Trent finds his eyes trapped on the sight of Chris’ hand holding onto yours, fingers locked, palms resting. Above all his faults, Chris...still had you.

That kind of love...hard to find, lucky to have.

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