#would die for each other and live to mess with each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pencil-n-pen · 4 months ago

Text

TONGUES AND TEETH

₊˚ʚ 🌲₊˚✧ . °🍂 ೃ࿔*

jackson! joel miller x fem! loner! reader

masterlist | ko-fi

summary: Joel refuses to acknowledge the part of him that aches to be a protector. That is, until you come crashing into his life.

cw: canon-typical violence, reader had a rough go of things before Joel, nightmares, medical inaccuracies (oh the horror!) uhhh reader has a broken nose and it gets set, unspecified age gap, daddy issues but we all saw that coming and it’s vague, as an ellie lover and defender until the day i die, it pains me to say no ellie-au IM SORRY I COULDN’T MAKE IT WORK bella ramsey as ellie they could never make me hate you

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort as always, age gap, nightmare comfort, honestly just two messed up people loving each other

a/n: proof that i will find a way to write an eldest daughter fic for any fandom/universe

not officially writing for him !! just had this idea

another long(ish) fic. if you're here from my masterlist, now would be a good time to go pee, get some water, and maybe a snack or two :) same things for those of you scrolling. i see u

title taken from tongues and teeth by the crane wives (GO LISTEN TO THE CRANE WIVES !!)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚🦴⋆｡°✩

Jackson living isn’t all Joel thought it would be cracked up to be.

Don’t get him wrong- objectively, it’s great. Running water, electricity, a clinic- three hallmarks Joel was sure he’d never see again. Not since the outbreak.

So by all means, he should be content. He goes out for hunting parties and patrols. Has his own house. Has a permanent place to keep his boots and his knives and guns and a bookshelf to make his way through. He has a bed. He has his brother.

But he’s restless.

Joel spent a long time walking. Searching. Surviving. You don’t quite slip back into easy civilian life just like that, no matter how perfect the conditions are.

At first, he solves this problem but going on more hunting parties, more patrols. He stays up late doing guard rotations and helps out his brother with projects when he can.

It doesn’t solve the itch, though. That sharp little thrumming, just beneath his skin: the need to protect. To have a job. To have something or someone to look after.

He denies this part of himself as much as he can, because he’s not that man anymore. Not after Sarah. He’s not. You don’t stay somebody dying to help and protect when you kill people. Because they’re still people, under the fungus. Under the parasite. Their brain’s still work. They still feel pain and anguish and fear.

He’s heard them cry before. Hunched over a corpse, body acting with somebody else at the reins, faces covered in blood and gore crying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

So Joel isn’t a protective guy anymore. Had to take out those parts. Replace them with solitary and meanness and a distinct lack of sympathy.

It’s turned him into an angry thing. Like a gaurd dog; snarling, circling an empty pedestal it refuses to acknowledge is there.

He knows Tommy see’s it. Try’s to involve him in things whenever he can, invites him over to dinner. Hangs out at his house. Makes sure Joel isn’t alone-alone.

So Joel really, really should’ve seen it coming when he and the scouting party find you in the woods.

You’re just as surprised to see them as they are to see you. They thought they were tracking a deer— although some of the tracks and patterns of disturbance in the underbrush didn’t add up.

They’d entered a clearing, guns poised, just to see you, handgun leveled at them, perched in a tree. Way higher up than Joel would’ve dared.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” You’d hissed, voice carrying on the wind and rattling just like the leaves on the tree you’re in. How you managed to scale a tree that high in a busted pair of Doc Martens and lugging a backpack clearly full of supplies is beyond him.

But he doesn’t need medical credentials to know you’ve clearly had a rough go of things.

You’re young. Not young-young, but young. Dressed in clothes clearly pilfered, you’re wearing a thick brown jacket that probably would’ve belonged to a construction worker or something like that. It’s a few sizes too big, and the cuffs are frayed and there’s a hastily sewn patch on the elbow he can see. Your face and hair is littered with tree and other plant debris- though if this is a new addition from your tree climbing escapade, he’s not sure. Your nose has dried blood crusted under it, your lip is split, and there’s a cut above your eyebrow. Your knuckles and hands are equally torn and split, old and new scars and scrapes littering your skin.

In short: you look rough. And feral, in that way that cats that live outside a little too long and a little too far away from people end up looking.

“I said stay back!”

He remembers, abruptly, that you’re probably scared out of your mind and the rest of the scouting team is still pointing their weapons at you.

He makes the motion for them to lower their weapons, and he lowers his own, raising both hands in the universal “we come in peace” gesture.

You don’t lower yours, but your grip on it is looser.

“We’re from the Jackson settlement,” He shouts, hoping you don’t hear the gruff anger in his voice that Tommy always complains he needs to work on. “There’s running water and electricity.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Your hands have begun to shake on the gun, ever so slightly. “So what’s your guys prerogative, huh? Cannablism? Religion? You planning on burning me at the stake? Or did you have something else in mind? I am a woman.”

Joel takes a step forward but stops when a bullet hits the ground right where his foot was about to be.

“If you take one more step you’re gonna find out exactly why I’ve survived alone this long.”

“Look,” He says, dropping his hands to his hips. “You can shoot us, and one of us will shoot you, and it’ll all be fine and dandy—“

There’s a chorus of whispers behind him.

“Or you can stay in that tree and not shoot us, and we won’t shoot you, and that’ll also be fine and dandy.”

He turns, jamming a finger in the direction of the settlement. “Jackson’s that way. Go or don’t go. I don’t really give a shit, but you look like you could use a bandaid.”

He jerks his head, and the rest of the party follows his lead, leaving the clearing —and you— behind.

—

A few hours after he returns, somewhere in the late evening when twilight is starting to set in and the crickets are chirping, Tommy knocks on his door.

“There’s a girl here for you.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Someone asked for me?”

“Well, not so much as for you. Her words exactly were “that gruff, mean looking asshole,” but I got the picture.”

He sighs, deep in his bones. A small part of him —the part that’s still connected to that dog, still circling— had hoped you would show up. However, it’s hopelessly overshadowed by the sheer exasperation of it all.

He’s silent save for non-committal grunts and hmm’s the way over to the front gates where the evening rotation’s guards have you standing between them.

You’re slightly worse for wear since the last time he saw you in that tree. Your jacket as a new rip in it, and your nose is sluggishly bleeding again. Up close, he notices it’s a bit crooked.

Gonna hurt like a bitch to set, He thinks absentmindedly.

He slows as he approaches you, hands in his pockets and shoulders back.

“See?” He huffs, gesturing with one hand behind him. “Not cannibals. Or whatever else you’re worried about.”

Your face is hard set as you look around. “That remains to be seen.”

“Hello!”

Joel looks back to see a pregnant Maria waddling over, a concerned Tommy at her side.

“I told you I’d handle it—“

“And I told you I’m fine. Now,” She props her hands on her hips. “Who’s this young lady now?”

You (hesitantly) stick out a hand to shake and introduce yourself.

She shakes your hand with a smile. Leave it to Maria to be able to read people with such ease. “I’m Maria Miller. I’m one of the settlement councilors. The golden retriever fussing next to me is my husband, Tommy, and the angry looking bear next to him is his brother, Joel. I understand a scouting party found you?”

You nod, eyes flicking this way and that, cataloguing the area.

“I’ve been on my own for… awhile. I don’t have any supplies to offer, but I’m smart and strong. I’m willing to work in exchange for a place to stay.”

Maria hums, assessing. “I’m sure we can work something out. You’ll need to come with me to speak to the rest of the council, for our safety and yours.”

You tighten your grip on your backpack but follow Maria and Tommy, only sparing one backward glance at Joel.

He spends the rest of the evening trying to forget the look in your eyes.

—

He fails spectacularly.

This doesn’t mean, however, that he’s anywhere near pleased when his nightly reading-as-a-poor-attempt-at-normalcy routine is interrupted by a knock on the door. One that sounds suspiciously like Tommy’s type of knock.

Only he hears two voices as he walks up to the door, and the other one isn’t Maria.

Joel opens the door with a glare already fixed on his face.

“There have to be other places.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. “It’s only temporary. The council agreed to let her stay so long as she’s watched by a trusted Jackson member, and well. You vouched for her.”

“And when exactly did I do that?”

“In the woods, when you met. You told her where you were from and how to get there. Honestly, Joel, you’re getting off light here. Some of the council members were not happy you told a random loner —no offense— where to find us. Kind of defeats the whole point.”

You huff a quiet “None taken.”

He can’t help the way his body tenses. “So this is a punishment?”

“Yes and no.”

“I don’t—“

“Look,” you interject, clearly fed up with the conversation. “It’s not the end of the world. I’m not going to murder you in your sleep and I don’t leave dirty clothes lying around. It’s only for three weeks. Get over it.”

Another sigh threatens to release itself, but he stamps it down, figuring he’s hit his sigh quota for the day.

“Fine. But take her down to medical first. I don’t want her blood all over my house.”

Tommy shrugs. “No-can-do. Maria needs me back at the house. You know where medical is. I’m sure you’ll manage.”

And with that, Tommy leaves, abandoning Joel and you at the doorstep.

Joel scrubs a hand down his face. “Wait there. I’ll grab a jacket.”

The walk to the clinic is awkward and silent, and just when Joel thinks it can’t get any worse, one of the staff tells him that since he’s your assigned supervisor/watcher/whatever, he has to accompany you. To everything.

To your credit, you don’t look very happy about the arrangement either.

Still, you bear through all the exams, a grimace fixed firmly on your face. Apparently (and not surprisingly) you’re malnourished, dehydrated, running a small fever, deficient in several vitamins, have two cracked ribs (most likely, no x-ray machine) and some run of the mill scraps and bruises.

You’re cagey enough on the details of the cracked ribs and nose that the doctor eventually moves on to the fixing you stage of things.

It takes awhile. There are a lot of injuries to cover.

When it comes to resetting your nose, the second the woman pulls out a needle and syringe, you go rigid.

“No.”

The doctor blinks. “This is just lidocaine, it’ll numb the area so—“

“No.”

“You wanna feel all that?” Joel asks, the first time he’s spoken during your entire exam, “It ain’t gonna feel great. Crooked nose like that won’t set with one go.”

“No needles. No numbing.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “What, you got a pain thing or something?”

Your hands go white-knuckled on the exam table. “Fuck. Off.”

You’re shaking, he notes.

Ah, He says to himself. Not a pain thing.

Fear.

The doctor shrugs. “Not like I won’t take the chance to save what we have. You’ll want something to bite down on. Or squeeze.”

You wrap your fingers around your own hand, a pathetic attempt at self-soothing.

He decides annoyance is the emotion he feels at your small movement. Nothing else.

He rolls his eyes as he grabs your hand, maneuvering it in place of your own.

“Good luck breaking it.”

You don’t respond. He wasn’t really expecting you to.

He knows without looking the exact moment the doctor starts resetting things because your grip on his hand quickly turns from barely there to crushing. You make no sound.

The doctor, to her credit, works fairly quickly, though by the time she’s finished a single tear has carved a path through the blood and grime on your face.

He thinks about how someone learns to cry without sound.

The doctor moves on quickly, cleaning and bandaging the wounds that need it and telling you detailed instructions for how to take care of your nose and cracked ribs and what things you should be eating to avoid staying vitamin deficient. It’s all a lot of words Joel is glad he doesn’t have to memorize.

They stick in his head anyway.

You don’t let go of his hand. You’re no longer squeezing the life out of it, but you’re not holding its gently either. When you do finally let go (after the doctor’s left and you can leave) you practically tear your hand away, as if burned. Like you’d left your hand on a stove as it was heating up only you just now noticed it was hot.

He doesn't say anything about it. He figures you're liable to literally bite his head off, or some other violent action close to that.

Besides. This is all awkward enough.

The walk back to the house is just as silent and strained as the walk to the clinic. Only now your breath is just a little more labored. Steps a little shakier. Your hand's twitch at your sides like they're reaching for something, and you don't quite manage to hide the way you look around every now and then, a restless, nervous action.

He knows what you're doing. He was you, back when he first got to Jackson. Granted, he wasn't as twitchy as you are. He kept his distance, stayed mean and scary (as possible.)

He holds the door open for you when you arrive back to the house, because his mom raised him to be a gentleman no matter the circumstances.

You toss him a look of confusion and annoyance but step into the house, looking around the modest living room with something almost like wonder.

He toes off his shoes, sets them by the door, and takes off his jacket, hanging it on the hook. "Shower before you touch anything. You're filthy. And don't think I'm giving up my bed."

"I wouldn't have taken it even if you had," You sneer. "Where's the--"

"Down the hall on the left. You got clean clothes?"

"...I have less dirty ones."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Wait here."

He grumbles all the way upstairs, all the way through picking out clothes that'll fit you well enough until you either wash what you have or find something else.

He silently glowers as he comes down the stairs, thrusting the clothes out to you and turning on his heel when you take them.

"I'm going to bed. Don't wake me up."

When he lies in bed that night, he can't even pretend he's not thinking about you. In his defense, it's less about you and more about the new, strange, stand-offish person he's just supposed to live with for the foreseeable future. All because he had the bad luck of feeling bad for the battered, flighty, loner girl sitting in a tree.

He stares at his ceiling, internal clock (yes, he's old, he has an internal clock. Sue him) letting him know it is decidedly an hour he should be asleep. He refuses to go downstairs, on principle alone. He could get up and go find one of his books, but he knows that if you're anything like him, coming off of however long you spent alone, you're a light sleeper. You're probably awake now, listening to him toss and turn and being unnerved by the unusual silence of Jackson and the particular brand of night-noise it produces. That's what the first two weeks of Joel's life in Jackson consisted of, before he moved in here.

Maria had decided that Joel would stay with the two of them until he integrated in Jackson society. Perks of your brother marrying a council member, he guesses.

So he's not going downstairs. Not going to walk down there just to see a person, an entire person in his house looking like, looking like--

Fuck.

He throws his blankets off and angrily (but not loudly) marches downstairs to get himself a glass of water and the book he knows he left on the table by the couch when he was so rudely interrupted by you. This is his house, dammit, he refuses to be put out by a random girl.

Woman, his brain corrects.

The living room is completely dark when he makes his way down the stairs and he truly, honestly wishes he was surprised when there's a whoosh of air to his right and a knife embeds itself in the wall about a half inch away from the side of his face.

The living room is still and silent.

"I thought they took your weapons when you got here."

"I lied about what I had."

He scrubs a hand down his face, yanks the knife out of the wall, and tosses it back. If you can throw it, you can dodge it.

He doesn't hear any screams, yelps, or grunts of pain, so he assumes you caught it fine. Or at least dodged it.

He makes his way over to the kitchen, grabs the teapot, and takes down two mugs.

"You know they can kick you out for harboring weapons during your probationary stay."

He hears a rustle of blankets behind him. The sound of you stashing your knife, no doubt.

"Are you going to tell them?"

He snorts, filling up the teapot. "No. There's been a knife in my boot since the day I got here."

He hears more rustling, and decides against turning around. He's not quite sure what you've been doing down here all night since it's clear that you weren't sleeping.

He doesn't hear any footsteps, but when does turn around to set the mugs on the table, you're sitting at it, knees pulled up and head resting atop them, your cheek smushed. Now that his eye's have adjusted to the darkness of the living room, he can almost make out your features. They're easier to discern, now that you're not covered in blood and grime. You look... softer. Haloed in the glow of moonlight shining through the gaps in the curtains.

Your face isn't the only thing glowing. The tell-tale glint of a knife --a different, smaller knife than the one you'd thrown at him-- shines from it's spot, resting oh-so innocently on the table.

Joel just huffs.

"No weapons on the table."

He blinks, and it's gone.

He doesn't ask why you're still awake or what you've been doing instead of sleeping. You don't ask why he's down in the kitchen at all.

"What are you making?"

"Tea."

He gently places a teabag in each mug. He isn't really sure why he's doing this for you. You've done nothing but hiss and spit since he's met you.

But tonight, right now, blanketed in the not-quite calm of the night and the apparent unease you both drown in--

It's tolerable. You're tolerable.

So he takes the kettle off the stove and pours the water and places the steaming mug on the table in front of you.

To which you ignore, and snatch the mug out of his hands instead.

"Did you think I put that one," He points to the mug in front of you, "There for giggles?"

You cradle the mug in your hands, seemingly entranced with the warmth and steam. "You might've poisoned mine."

"Maybe I poisoned both."

You take a sip, then grimace when the too-hot liquid hits your tongue.

"You don't look like the kind of person to have built an immunity to poison."

"You also watched me make both beverages."

"So? It's dark. You could've slipped something in. Or maybe it was already in the teabags."

"What use would I even have for you dead?"

You shrug. "I don't know. You tell me."

“You’re a deeply mistrusting person.”

“And you’re not?”

Touché.

Joel remains in the kitchen, leaned against a cabinet sipping your tea, while you stay hunched at the table, sipping yours.

If he removes the irritability and the uncomfortable-ness of everything that involves you living with him, the moment is almost… companionable. Pleasant, even.

It… soothes that nervous part of him. Not the sad nervous. The angry nervous. That built up crack of anger.

There’s another person in his home that is neither attempting to perceive his problems nor actively attempting to kill him. Your belief that he might poison you aside, you still accepted the tea.

He firmly believes that Tommy isn’t right about the loneliness thing though. His brother being right is just a world Joel can’t live in.

Besides. It’s too early to tell anything anyway.

—

Unfortunately, the following few days do not go… terribly.

That isn’t to say they go well, though. Since he’s looking after you (read: making sure you’re not an axe-murderer or something) he’s not allowed to go out on scouting or hunting trips. Or solo guard rotations he’s come to covet.

It’s boring, and having you around is strange.

It’s interesting, when he gets bored enough, because if he focuses hard enough he can guess what events happened to you based on your reactions to certain things. He’s pretty sure you were drugged at some point based on your reaction to the doctor with the lidocaine. You’re general skittish and flighty nature can be easily attributed to the conditions in which everyone in the world is living in, but your particular brand of distrust and aggression says that humans, not the infected, have been the ones to hurt you the most. Your general unease in open areas or areas with not easily accessible exits leads him to believe that there have been several extremely close calls in several points of your survival.

He knows you’ve been shot before, but that one was an accident. He’d come downstairs, rubbing bleary sleep from his eyes and accidentally stumbled across you changing. Well, finishing changing. He’d quickly closed his eyes and turned around, and thankfully you hadn’t startled, but he had caught a glimpse of the stretch of skin not covered by the long sleeve undershirt you favored. On the left side, just above your hip and a few inches towards your bellybutton, there’s a jagged, raised, circular scar. Still pink.

He knows you have a very slight, very subtle limp. He’s not sure what causes it, but he knows you have one. It tends to act up when you do a lot of strenuous exercise for an extended period of time. Some days you wake up and it’s worse. On those days, you’re a little more mean, and a little more skittish.

He’s yet to see you actually, legitimately sleep.

He’s starting to think you haven’t, since arriving.

Which is insane, because it’s been four days.

The bags under your eyes are horrific, even to him. You’ve gotten clumsier and clumsier, your attention span and memory are terrible, and he thinks you might’ve started hallucinating, if the times he’s seen you staring off into space with concerned, fearful, or twisted expressions on your face and mumbled rambles he can’t make out are anything to go by.

On day five, when Joel comes downstairs in the morning and the knife you throw at him bounces harmlessly off the wall and clatters to the ground and you just stare at it, eyes foggy and unseeing, he decides to talk to Maria.

“I don’t really care,” He says, because he has a reputation to uphold dammit, “But I’m not sure how much longer she’s gonna last, and what she’s gonna do when she wakes up.”

“Mmm,” Maria hums, hands clasped on the table and staring at Joel with her best ‘I don’t believe you don’t care’ look. She’s really perfected it, “Well the truth is, she can’t go forever. It’s fear keeping her up now. Happens a lot with the loners that come in. Especially the women. She’s afraid that no one’s there to watch her back and terrified she won’t be strong enough to fend off any attackers.”

Maria looks at her hands. “The fear is exacerbated by the fact that the council took most of her weapons.”

“You knew—“

“She was lying? Of course I did. So did several of the other members, I’m sure. But she’s not a threat. She’s scared.”

He thumbs the thin scar on his cheek from the knife came just a little too close to hitting the mark when he sneezed in the kitchen. “She’s got a funny way of being scared.”

“Fight or flight, Joel. She knows flight isn’t an option.”

“Why are you lobbying so hard in her defense?”

“I’m not. I’m explaining her actions. Also,” She gives a knowing smile, “You’ve started to care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be coming to me about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He grouses. “So what am I supposed to do? Just wait for her to pass out?”

“You could. It’ll happen eventually. She very clearly doesn’t have that many hours left in her. That’s probably freaking her out more. Or, you could subtly show her that she can sleep around you. She needs to know that she’s safe from whatever it is she’s running from.”

Joel keeps his eyes locked on the kitchen table, tracing the grain in the wood with an absent-minded finger.

“I know you pushed for her to stay with me.”

“The council wanted a punishment that fit the crime.”

“Look, I appreciate the thought—“

Maria’s expression flattens. “Joel. Do not sit at my table and lie about how you don’t need anyone and you’re fine on your own. You need this.“

“I don’t need this,” He scoffs, “She’s practically half-feral. No one needs that.”

Maria stands, shrugging. “Then I guess you’ll have to file for a name change, No-One Miller. Until then, make sure she’s not alone when she wakes up.”

—

He did leave you alone for the duration of his conversation with Maria, because fuck if he was bringing you to that, and he figured you both could use some time away from each other. He knows he can.

He’s not very surprised to hear the familar whoosh of a small, sharp object sailing through the air that tends to accompany his arrival into rooms you’re occupying (he’s pretty sure it stopped being a fear response after the first two times and now you’re just messing with him) but he is suprised to see that this time, the knife doesn’t even make it head height. Or to the wall.

It clatters uselessly to the ground near his feet. He stares at the metal between his boots and then up at you—

“Why are you sitting on the kitchen counter?”

“I don’t remember.”

He leaves the knife on the ground and makes his way over to you, watching with mock disinterest at the several-seconds-delayed flinch you make when he stands in front of you.

You look up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused and you just look so, so tired.

There’s a curl of protectiveness in his chest that keeps trying to spread, keeps trying to grow. Here, in the kitchen, your legs dangling over the edge of the counter, bathed in the glow of the mid-day sun, it takes root. Right in the center.

He looks down at your feet. “What happened to your other shoe?”

You scrunch up your face. “I don’t… I was getting in bed, I think. But it wasn’t my bed. I forgot that things aren’t—“

That things aren’t the same anymore.

He crouches down, untying the laces of your boot and shucking it aside somewhere.

“Alright, come on.”

You slide off the counter, clumsy and uncoordinated. He takes your hand in his, leads you up to the bedroom.

The stairs are difficult for your tired, barely working brain. He has to stop multiple times to physically lift your legs or stop you from falling over and cracking your head open.

You finally make it up there, though, and he realizes that you probably won’t want to sleep in your everyday clothes.

“One last step.”

He can’t help but notice how intimate the moment is. Not intimate-intimate, but. He instructs you softly to lift your arms so he can tug your shirt over your head and replaces it with a soft shirt of his own.

Staring into your eyes is too charged and allowing his eyes to wander is bad for obvious reasons, so he keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder.

He keeps his eyes there as he helps you out of your pants and into a pair of flannel pajama pants. The same ones he’d given you the first night you came. You’ve never slept and he’s never seen you go to any of the places he knows have extra clothes, so he’s almost positive you don’t have any pajamas at all.

His fingers work quickly to tie the drawstring on the pants, and even then, they hang low on your hips.

He doesn’t let his eyes linger.

“Come on,” He says taking your arm and tugging you toward the bed. “Time for sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day,” You mumble, standing in place. “And I can’t, what if they—“

“I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll keep watch.”

You mull his words over in your head for a few moments before stumbling the final few steps into the bed. You practically collapse into it, shuffling for a just few seconds before your breath evens out.

You’re asleep.

He reaches over, adjusting the blankets a bit, before grabbing the book he’d left on the bedside table and settling down in the chair by the bed.

The hours tick by quietly, accompanied only by the quiet rustling of pages turning and your soft snores.

For the first time in awhile, he doesn’t feel restless.

—

You sleep for a full eighteen hours straight before you stir.

He’s a good portion of the way through his book before he see’s your body tense in the corner of his eye. Your breathes are still even and deep, so if he couldn’t see you, he probably wouldn’t notice you’re awake.

“You’ve been asleep for eighteen hours,” He says, voice rough and scratchy with disuse, “You got in bed voluntarily.”

“You changed my clothes.”

“You didn’t seem all that capable of doing so yourself and I didn’t think you wanted to sleep in jeans. You mind?”

“…No.”

“Good. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t just—“

“You didn’t sleep for five days. If we’re going by the eight hours a night average needed or whatever, that’s forty hours. You’ve still got twenty-two left to catch up on.”

You roll over to face him with a grumble. “I don’t like how good you are at mental math.”

“Get better, then.”

You shimmy out from under the blankets, tossing him an “I have to pee,” as you make your way out of the room.

It’s early morning now, weak sunlight behind to strain its way through the curtains. He figures it’s a good enough time to make some food (and coffee) if you’re going to be going to back sleep, so he meanders down to the kitchen and throws together a small breakfast.

“Did you make us breakfast?”

He never really gets used to how quietly you move through rooms.

“Jesus— yes. Here.”

He hands you a bowl with oatmeal and a small plate with a slice of toast— toasted in a pan, because electricity aside, he doesn’t own a toaster. Why waste time scavenging for an appliance when something else works just as fine?

He sets a jar of jam on the counter that he’d picked up awhile ago in exchange for fixing the hinge on somebody’s door.

“You got any allergies?”

“None that matter.”

He nods to the table. “Go eat. Then get back in bed.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re annoying. Eat.”

You eat quickly and quietly, then wordlessly follow him back upstairs, climbing back into bed.

“Joel?” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

He tucks the blanket up over your shoulder. “Go to sleep.”

You obey easily.

—

Things between the two of you… soften after that. He slowly sees more pieces of your personality than the wild thing he met that day in the woods.

He learns that you love peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but miss peanut butter and nutella sandwiches more than anything. He learns that on good days, you like drinking coffee straight black, but on bad days, you like it with milk and sugar.

He learns that your limp is the result of one careless mistake you’d made when you first surviving on your own.

“I thought the house was abandoned. It wasn’t,” You’d rolled up your pant leg to show horrific, deep, jagged scars circling your ankle, “Guy had set out a bear trap to slow down some of the clickers in the area. It was dark. Didn’t notice it until too late.”

He learns that you, despite your snide remarks and sarcastic comments, like having him around. He feels a bit like earning the trust of a stray cat.

You begin to grow more comfortable with life in Jackson, though not by much. He’s sure you weren’t a people person before the outbreak, much less so now that he knows some of the horrors you’ve been through before you got here.

He’s even started getting used to how quietly you move.

It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, from there.

He wakes up, goes downstairs. Sometime’s there’s a knife thrown at him, sometimes there isn’t. You’re usually sprawled on the couch, drool coming out of your mouth and grumbling incoherently about “old men and their stupid early mornings.”

It’s almost endearing.

Since Joel spends a lot of time helping Maria and Tommy get ready for their baby, you, in turn, get to know the both of them by being stuck with Joel. Maria set you on edge at first, Tommy slightly less so, but through continuous interactions your prickly nature smoothed.

One night, you were all seated on their couch after enjoying a dinner together —not the first and definitely not the last— having quiet conversation. You’re totally passed out on Joel’s shoulder, dead-asleep and quite content to use him as a human teddy bear.

Maria smiles over her mug of tea. “She’s grown on you.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. She’s not all bad.”

“High praise coming from Joel Miller.”

You have grown on him. And in turn, your relationship has started to grow into… something else. Sometimes his eyes linger just a little too long, and the looks you share feel just a little too charged.

Tommy sends him a look full of words only true siblings can understand.

“No, Tommy.”

“Oh come on Joel! You both clearly—“

“We are not having this conversation right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because—“

You fling an arm out wildly, smacking him in the side of his face and grasping around until your pointer finger finally finds his lips.

“Shhhh. M’ sleeping.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist, prying your fingers off his face. “You know that’s what bed’s are for. Or couches. Or any number of surfaces I’ve found you sleeping on.”

“You’re a surface I’m sleeping on.”

“I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not a bed. Come on, up and at em’.”

You whine at the loss of warmth when he stands, scowling as you haul yourself to your feet. As he’s putting on his boots by the door, he hears you thanking Maria and Tommy for their hospitality, and he can’t help the little smile that twitches on his face. Seems like his parents weren’t the only ones who made sure he had manners.

You meet him at the door, hopping in place to put your boots on and getting frustrated when they don’t slide on immediately.

“You know, it would help if you untied the laces—“

“Fuck off.”

He blinks. That seems a little more mean than you usually say nowadays.

So Joel takes a step back. Watch’s your legs and your shoes and your hands—

There.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the laces, unable to get a good grip on the thin cords to untie and re-tie your shoes.

He shoos your hands away from the singular boot you haven’t managed to get on.

“Sit.”

He’s thankful that he built the shoe bench for Maria a few weeks after he got to Jackson. It serves Maria well for not having to stand while she attempts to put her shoes on while heavily pregnant, a feat she bemoaned a few times, and now it’s serving you.

You plop down on the bench with a huff, crossing your arms as Joel crouches, undoing the laces of your boot and sliding it on.

“I can do it.”

“I know you can.”

“Why’re you doing it?”

“Because.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He secures the tie on one boot and moves on to the next. “It is tonight.”

Once both shoes are on, you both bid Tommy and Maria good night, and make your way home.

If your hand find’s Joel’s, then that’s not anyone’s business.

—

He notices things after that.

You’ve started snapping at him more often. You’re not sleeping as much. You’ve started flat out refusing to go with him on daily chores as tasks, which either leads to an argument or the both of you staying at home all day.

It all comes to a head when you wake up screaming.

He thunders down the stairs, ducking on instinct for a knife that doesn’t come. You’re not on the couch. He whips his head around, the screaming stopped he can’t find you—

A thud. A panicked gasp.

He moves on slow, apprehensive feet towards the kitchen, crouching down to see you huddled under the table, knife clenched in your hand and pointed toward him.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Your eyes are wide and shining with tears.

“You died.”

“I didn’t. I’m right here.”

You shake your head, breaths coming short and shallow.

He settles on the floor, crossing his legs. “Here, take my hand. Come on.”

He extends his hand into the space between you two. Achingly slowly, you put down the knife, and take his hand in yours.

“See? I’m still here.”

Eventually, your breathing slows, and the fear begins to leave your eyes. You drop his hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.”

“No, no it’s just—“ You break off with a strangled noise.

He waits. Lets a few minutes tick by.

“Does this have anything to do with the fact you’ve been avoidin’ me?”

You look down. “You noticed?”

“I do have eyes, sweetheart.”

You grab the knife again, twisting it this way and that in your hands.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

He tilts his head. “How come?”

You’re silent for a little while again.

“I feel… okay with you.”

“And that’s scary?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “You could leave, or die, and it scares me that I’m already attached to you. That having nightmare’s of you dying affects me so much. That they happen at all.”

He hums. “Seem’s were at an impasse.”

He taps a finger on his knee.

“It’s not all bad. To care.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Joel Miller?”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You know, against my better judgment, I’ve come to tolerate having you around.”

“Tolerate?”

“Mhm.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“So you’ve never thought about kissing me?”

Heat rushes to his face. “Is that really a question you want to be asking right now?”

“Yes.”

“Mm,” He stands, “Well I don’t answer that kind of question at this hour. Come on.”

He reaches under the table and pulls you out.

You clamber to your feet, still a little shaky after your nightmare.

You turn to go back to the couch, but stops when he tugs on your arm.

“Mm-mm. No couch tonight.”

You look up at him, a question in your eyes he doesn’t know how to answer with words.

He steps forward, rough hands coming up to your face, thumb swiping the crest of your cheek.

“Tell me to stop.”

“I won’t.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss, soft and slow.

He pulls away after a few moments, searching your face for any sign of negativity or displeasure or disgust or, or—

You surge up, kissing him again, all the same fiery passion he saw the day you met.

“I suppose that answers my question.”

He chuckles. “You think?”

“I hope so.”

His hands slide down to your waist. and he can’t resist the little squeeze he gives the skin there.

“Alright. Back to bed, let’s go.”

“I forgot how tired old men get.”

“Please don’t call me an old man right after we kiss.”

He can hear your quiet snorting laughter as you climb the stairs, socked feet silent as always.

You climb into bed first, shoving yourself into the side by the wall and then making grabby motions for Joel.

“Am I just a pillow to you?”

“Yes. Come be a pillow.”

He rolls his eyes but slips into bed next to you and quietly relishes in the pleased hum you let out as you wrap your arms around his waist, practically smashing your face into his chest.

“You comfortable there?”

“Mhm.”

He curls one arm around you, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your neck. This close, he feels the shudder run through your body at the motion, and curious, he gives your nape a little squeeze.

Your reaction is instantaneous. You go limp- completely boneless.

“I got you, I got you. Go to sleep, now.”

It doesn’t take you long. And with you asleep so soundly in his arms, he follows right behind you.

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

3K notes · View notes

elysianightsss · 6 months ago

Note

No because girl you NEEDDDDDD to elaborate on this -> Soulmate AU. Poly!141 x neurodivergent!reader <- I will die happily

Elaboratingggggggg🤭🫠

You didn’t think that you’d get this far in life, many reasons spring to mind but the main one is you’re a little different than most people. You can’t cope with certain things and struggle with change. You remember growing up your family would brush off your ‘issues’ and say to just deal with it. How little they understood you.

Moving out was the best decision you ever made, the only change you have ever been happy about. It was necessary and would make your life so much easier on a level only you could understand. You could set up your space the way you like it, the way you need it. And with just you, no one would mess with your stuff just to see you loose it as it was ‘funny’ or move things to suit them better.

This way, you could live in peace.

Task force 141 had just finished a successful mission, camping out in one of the many secret safe houses as they waited for further instructions when they had sent Johnny to the shop for supplies. That’s where he saw you, in a Sainsbury’s supermarket of all places, headphones tight over your ears to block out the world while you tried to decide if the extra two, ninety-nine was worth it or not for the soothing lavender face mask you wanted.

Johnny was quick to subtly snap a picture of you and even go as far as to follow you home before bolting it back to the guys to tell them he’d finally found you. Their last soulmate.

As soon as Johnny showed them the image of you, that was it for them. They had to have you. A burning need coursing through their veins, pumping around their bodies. Nothing would ever be enough until they had you in their arms.

But as said and as they observed themselves, you don’t cope with change.

So they had to situate themselves into your life slowly, one by one.

Johnny and Simon moved in next door to you, and lived there for seven months slowly getting to know you and obviously spying on you. They gradually began to understand you and your cute quirks. They know that you eat the same thing for dinner every night, you use the same plate or bowl and wash it straight after use to make sure it is ready for next time.

You have one set of cutlery, one glass and one mug. Two pillows though you only sleep on one and use the other to hug to sleep. And to top it all off you have one recliner chair and one massive beanbag chair that makes you feel like you’re being hugged tight each time you sit on it. It gives you the deep pressure therapy you desperately need at times.

The guys found your habits strange at first but the more time they spent with you, the more they began to understand you. Understand your need for order, for repetition. And they had experienced first hand what happens when change was forced into your safe space.

Johnny had the bright idea to gift you a set of cutlery a few weeks ago so when he and Simon came round for dinner as they did every Thursday for the past four months, they didn’t have to bring cutlery and plates from their own place, it would already be there.

Simon said it was a bad idea but he couldn’t say no to Johnny, not with how happy he looked while he picked out some pretty baby blue plates and silver cutlery with little mushrooms painted at the end. He boasted to Simon about how much you’d love them while they stood in the queue to pay.

He was wrong.

After dinner was cooked you plated up the food no problem thinking the pretty plates were from their house. Then you opened the kitchen drawer only to hear the clutter and smash of cutlery rubbing together. The sound made a ringing pierce your ears, your hands reaching up to cover them. It was like nails on a chalkboard to you. The sound you heard making you panic beyond measure, your breathing out of control as you slid to your knees.

Johnny’s smile dropped and he sprung into action using the deep pressure therapy you had told him about with your beanbag chair. Simon was quick to removed the extra plates and cutlery from where Johnny had put them and take them back to their place before returning ready to help. He knew he’d need to call John and let him know you had had an episode, but helping you came first.

So you liked constant repetition. If it made you happy, that was absolutely fine with them.

Kyle got himself hired as a barista at your favourite cafe, he learned your usual and practiced at home to make sure every morning when you stopped by on the way to work to drink your coffee and sit with your laptop for twenty minutes, you’d have the perfect drink. He made absolutely sure that it tasted the same every single time. No change.

After a couple of months of smiles and waves here and there he finally got you to open up. Baby steps. A little at a time and now Kyle was taking his twenty minute break at your table while you typed up something for work. You always worked so hard. But he managed to get a few sentences out of you each time and it made his heart sing.

And last but not least, John became your new boss after your last one mysteriously got caught for money laundering. Mr Price was an amazing boss, he didn’t ask for much and was always giving you big opportunities that you’d only ever dreamed of. You had been promoted twice since he became the CEO.

You were now executive editor under him as the chief editor at one of the best publishers in the country. Pirons Classics, number two in the UK and number four in the World. To say the guys were proud that you worked there in the first place was an understatement. Their smart girl.

He called you sweet nicknames and brought you lunch everyday. The same thing, a pesto and cheese sandwich and a snack of your choosing from the vending machines. You don’t remember when it started but you were always too shy to say anything so it became a regular thing.

If you were to sit and think real hard about the situation you would realise how changes had been introduced into your life ever since the four of them appeared. But they were subtle changes and you genuinely couldn’t remember a time when these changes weren’t normal. On top of that, these four men were the only people besides yourself, that you felt comfortable, relaxed and content around.

So for the first time you don’t sit and think, for the first time you just let it happen and you don’t notice the difference.

Johnny and Simon were more involved with you than the other two. They were the closest to you currently with the status of your best friends which Johnny most certainly bragged to the other two about. You had known them for almost a year now and they didn’t exactly hide their romantic relationship but didn’t exactly flaunt it either.

You had found it kinda hot when you saw them kiss and even though it was unusual for you, you luckily managed to keep your mouth shut about it.

You had no idea they had noticed.

2K notes · View notes

nanamiskentos · 10 days ago

Text

PLOT — Gojo wrote everyone letters before the Shinjuku Showdown, and it's time you finally opened yours.

CREW'S NOTES — disregarded working on a full fic rn in terms of some quick angst that actually did sober me up a bit 😁

You stare at it, the same letters sloped in scrawled, quick handwriting. Your name, scribbled on the front, and the paper is soft. What little choice do you have but to open it with careful fingers?

The moment the paper unfurls, you know.

He knew. Gojo must have known what the fight with Sukuna would entail. You look past his iteration of your name, the strokes heavy as if a hand had hesitated and allowed ink to pool underneath.

I thought about saying this in person. But you know me, always showing off when I should be serious, and being serious when I should be joking. Besides, if I looked you in the eye and said this, I think I'd lose my nerve.

I'm sorry.

I think I'm going to die.

Maybe not. Maybe, I'll win and we'll laugh about this, and you'll tease me for being overly dramatic. (Please go easy on me, I'm very fragile).

But if you're reading this, I guess I didn't make it and that bastard got the best of me, and I can only hope he didn't mess up my pretty face too bad. Sorry, I guess you're not laughing.

There's a lot I could say. A lot I should say. But none of it matters more than this: You made me so happy. God, you made me the happiest man on earth.

I don't know what it says about me that I was a sudden fool for Cupid, I fell in love with your quick, clever mouth and your eyes, and that spine made of steel that got into my bones so deep that I couldn't breathe sometimes.

You always looked at me like I was someone. Not just the strongest, not just a weapon. You touched me like I was worthy of love, and held me like I was yours. And I was, I am and I think I always will be. And when we next see each other again, I would still be yours.

If I could have built a world just for us, I would have. A stupidly big estate with ceiling windows for days, a dumb house that hates me, silk sheets you'd complain about, and a kitchen you would never use. I would love to introduce everyone to the new head of the Gojo clan, though you wouldn't have to take my name if you didn't want to. I wanted to see you, pretty in blue and silver silks, and I'd kiss your ring like a priest in love with his god, and scandalise all those fussy elders.

I wanted to grow old with you. Can you believe that? Me. Old.

White hair, back pain, stealing kisses from you like teenagers in love. I would have watched you glow in the sunlight, and watched you live besides me. And you would probably outlive me by a hundred years.

So, if I haven't come back, if this is truly it, then please remember me not for how I died (I'm actually a bit squeamish, so I hope it wasn't too messy), but for how I loved you. Because I did. I do.

And if there's any kind of after, I'll be there and I'll wait for you. Please don't forget to look for me, no matter how many years pass. Just remember to look for the smiling lovesick fool with snow in his hair, and hands in his pocket.

I love you.

Forever your idiot, Forever yours, Gojo Satoru

#i love angst but sometimes i love it less when the angst im writing actually makes me sad....in da clerb we're all crying rn #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #daphworks

760 notes · View notes

jingyi-ma-boi · 11 months ago

Text

Meng Yao, the raging feral ball of issues that he is, reacts by panicking a lil bit cause FUCK. What do you mean these two now know he’s pregnant? This is exactly what people have always accused him of being —a whore whose achievements are dependent on opening his legs prettily. But also, he’s pregnant??? With Lan Xichen’s pup??? The man that made him feel like he was living in pure marital bliss in the middle of war???

He’s swooning because he knows that he can’t have that child if he wants his plans to go on, but the thought of erasing the only remaining proof of what he had during those days with that perfect, heavenly alpha that treated him as if Meng Yao was the one carved out from the purest jade makes him want to rip his own scent glands off and die choking on his own blood.

Nie Mingjue is frankly very confused about the look on Meng Yao’s face because he thinks he understands the distress that his deputy is feeling but he also knows that there must be a lot he’s missing on. And the souring of Meng Yao’s scent in that moment doesn’t help his confusion and maybe his hurt too, if you want to make this 3zun with a respectfully pining Nie Mingjue which yes, it definitely is like that, please and thank you. Confusion that stops Nie Mingjue from seeing the initial shock and elation that Lan Xichen seems to be feeling at first, after reuniting with the beautiful, strong, and incredibly smart omega that managed to make the best out of the worst moments of his life. And on top of that, it turns out that this precious man that got Lan Xichen’s heart soaring and singing at his every dimpled smile is bearing his child??? He wants to kiss him and scent him so badly and go run to wherever his uncle may be to tell him that he is marrying this man.

And then, he sees A-Yao’s face. And suddenly, he feels like all of the air has been punched out his lungs and he wants to throw up. What if Meng Yao hadn’t actually wanted to share his rut with him? What if it had all been a delusion concocted by his feverish lovesick head? He smells A-Yao’s distress and feels guilty, dirty and has the sudden urge of ripping his robes off, and letting Meng Yao claw at his chest and rip it open, so that he can yank his heart and guts out of Lan Xichen as punishment for his heinous crimes.

A/b/o au in which Nie Mingjue detects a drastic change in MY's scent during the Sunshot Campaign. Such great changes in the scent of an omega are often indicative of their condition: and Meng Yao is revealed to be pregnant.

Not knowing what to do, Nie Mingjue request Lan Xichen's assistance in broaching the subject to Meng Yao. However he fails to tell Lan Xichen exactly who his omegan deputy is.

So, when Lan Xichen realizes it is Meng Yao - the omega that shared his rut with whilst hiding from the Wen- who is pregnant, the only thing he can say is "A-Yao is carrying my child ⁉️"

#this idea for an AU really got me running #I’m sorry fish if this is way off what you were thinking #I honestly can’t see this going any other way than that of a hurt/little comfor very angsty fic full of misunderstandings #like imagine if NMJ saw and smelt their horror in this scenario? knowing him he would jump to the worst of conclusions #‘did one of them took advantage of the other? MY is terrorized amd I don’t eant to believe that LXC would have done that’#‘but I will rip his throat off if that’s the case cause hOW DID YOU DARE DO THAT? A rut is NO EXCUSE LAN XICHEN!!’#MY would try to make things right but seeing LXC’s pained face would also make him eant to flee cause what if HE took advantage #of LXC’s rut? He doesn’t want to believe that but now he NEEDS to get rid of this thing before long because he doesn’t want NMJ to accuse #him of taking advantage of LXC’s state of mind and position once he learns the truth and NMJ/LXC interpret this as MY being afraid #and vulnerable and in need of a way out of this situation (which would make perfect sense for NMJ wanting to write that referral to JGS #thinking that MY wouldn’t feel comfortable being LXC’s friend’s deputy)#would this scenario make for a reversal of 3zun dynamics where NMJ resents LXC and vows to protect MY from him? Possibly #the other possibility I see depending on NMJ state of mind is him seeing that those two are bright a fucking mess without really knowing #the details? he would assume that the sex was consensual but not the pregnancy and he would feel conflicted about the possibility of it #beign a ploy? but at that point he still believes in his trusted smart and efficient deputy and his distress when learning about the pregna #makes him believe in MY not having ulterior motives. So in short he decides to intercede between these two dumbasses #and maybe he falls even deeper in love in the process though he refrains from acting on it cause he knows he’ll die young #meanwhile LXC and MY would be pining and yearning for each other wangxian style with their canonical soft touches and fleeting looks when i #public. LXC would constantly act like a kicked puppy and MY would feel SO guilty for deciding not to bear that pup #jin guangyao #meng yao #lan xichen #xiyao in hiding #mdzs fic ideas #potential 3zun if you like that though you can totally ignore that part and headcanon NMJ as an aro/ace autistic obsessed with his saber #againg fish sorry for turning your ‘LXC takes MY to Gusu and mates him and they live happily ever after’ into this angsty mess

88 notes · View notes

stxxrlights · 8 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐔𝐘...

suguru's the type of guy who carries your purse for you. he doesn't care about the strange looks he gets, he's just happy to hold your bag for you. whether you need to take a trip to the restroom or you're just tired of carrying it, he's there to hold onto it for as long as you need him to.

suguru's the type of guy who lets you play with his hair. he's very protective of his long lustrous locks, he he doesn't mind you combing your fingers through it. he finds it king of relaxing. he also lets you do his hair routine for him just so he can spend more time close to you and feeling your touch.

suguru's the type of guy who smiles when he talks to you on the phone. just the sound of your voice has the corner of his lips turning upward as he listens to whatever it is you want to say, be it something stupid or gossip you couldn't wait to tell him, other way he's still smiling as he imagines you infront of him talking to him.

suguru's the type of guy who enjoys cuddling up with you on movie night. it's just something about the way your frame fits his, your legs intertwined under the covers and him placing his chin on the top of your head. it's moments like these that he wants to live in forever, barely paying attention to the movie, just occasionally placing kisses on your ear, neck and cheek.

suguru's the type of guy who documents almost everything you do together. he had a special journal with your ship name on it where he writes each and everything about your day together. he of course does this in secret, he would die of embarrassment if you were to ever read what he writes inside.

suguru's the type of guy who has spa days with you. any random day of the week, you plan to do your skincare, haircare, pedicures, manicures, whatever it is, he has to do them with you. just so he can sit and laugh with you spending as much of his time he has with you.

suguru's the type of guy who rarely uses your name instead calling you cute names. his favourites are 'darling', 'pretty girl' and 'baby'. the only time he calls you by your given name is when he's being serious. he just likes how you smile everytime you smile when he calls you a cute nickname.

suguru's the type of guy who enjoys cooking together with you. playing a youtube tutorial and mixing the ingredients infront of you and soon enough, the tutorial ending up as background music as you're laughing together, a mess of your clothes from the spilled contents. he knows nothing ever gets done since you end up ordering food anyways, but at least he got to have some fun with you.

suguru's the type of guy who loves when you wear his clothes. it's just something about your frame being swallowed by his robes that has his heart melting. and the fact that when you walk around with his scent on you because your wearing his clothes, he just adores you so much.

suguru's the type of guy who always stares at your lips when you talk to him. he knows he should be staring into your gorgeous eyes, but there's just something about your lips. his mind can't help but wonder how your lips would feel on his even though you've kissed multiple times. he just can't help himself and kisses you right then and there.

comments and reblogs are appreciated

#jjk fluff #geto suguru #geto fluff #geto headcanons #geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen suguru #suguru geto #jjk headcanons #jjk scenarios #suguru scenarios

2K notes · View notes

goshikisbaee · 4 months ago

Text

Naruto Characters As Your Boyfriend Headcanons

[ Itachi, Kakashi, Obito, Madara ]

Content: Fluff

———

ITACHI UCHIHA

Loyal to a Fault

If Itachi loves you, he’s committed completely. His loyalty knows no bounds, and he will always prioritize your well-being.

Protective but Subtle

He won’t be overbearing, but you’ll notice how he always positions himself slightly in front of you in dangerous situations or keeps an eye on your surroundings.

Loves Quiet Moments

He cherishes peaceful moments together, like reading side by side, drinking tea, or just enjoying each other’s presence without the need for words.

Rare but Genuine Smiles

He doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it’s small, soft, and reserved just for you. Those moments are precious.

Enjoys Stroking Your Hair

When he’s particularly tired or feeling affectionate, he absentmindedly runs his fingers through your hair, finding comfort in the simple act.

Secretly Loves Physical Affection

He’s not overly expressive, but he enjoys small, intimate touches—a brush of fingers, a gentle squeeze of your hand, or resting his forehead against yours.

Softens Around You

While he maintains his stoic and composed demeanor around others, his voice becomes noticeably softer when he speaks to you.

Guilt Weighs on Him

There are nights when he can’t sleep, burdened by his past. If you reach for him, he’ll hold your hand tightly, as if grounding himself in the present.

Loves Watching You Sleep

Not in a creepy way—he just finds peace in seeing you safe and content, knowing that at least for now, everything is okay.

Will Die for You Without Hesitation

If there were ever a situation where you were in danger, Itachi wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself to keep you safe.

Rare Jealousy, But It’s There

He’s confident and trusting, but if someone is blatantly flirting with you, he’ll give them a cold, unreadable look that sends chills down their spine.

Soft “I Love You’s”

He doesn’t say it often, but when he does, it’s in the quiet of the night, whispered so gently it feels like a sacred promise.

Loves When You Take Care of Him

He won’t ask for it, but if you tend to his wounds, remind him to rest, or make him tea, he deeply appreciates it—even if all he says is a quiet “thank you.”

Remembers Every Detail About You

Your favorite food, childhood stories, the way you like your tea—Itachi remembers it all, no matter how small.

Would Teach You Self-Defence

He’d feel better knowing you can protect yourself, so he patiently trains you, correcting your form with a gentle touch.

Doesn’t Like Seeing You Cry

If you’re upset, he won’t rush you to stop crying. Instead, he’ll hold you and let you feel your emotions fully, whispering reassurances.

Prefers Meaningful Gifts

If he gives you something, it’ll have deep significance, like a family heirloom, a book he cherishes, or a handwritten letter.

His Love is Eternal

Even if something were to separate you, Itachi’s love wouldn’t fade. He’d carry you in his heart always, no matter where fate takes him.

Knows When Something’s Wrong

You can’t hide your emotions from him. Even if you say you’re fine, he’ll gently press, “What’s really on your mind?”

If He Could, He’d Choose a Simple Life with You

Despite his burdens, his deepest wish is to live a quiet life with you, free from war and duty—just peace, love, and the simple joys of being together.

KAKASHI HATAKE

Mysteriously Affectionate

Kakashi isn’t overly expressive, but when he does show affection, it’s in small, meaningful ways—like resting his forehead against yours or lightly squeezing your hand.

Loves Teasing You

He has a dry sense of humor and will playfully mess with you, whether it’s poking fun at your habits or dramatically declaring his love in a monotone voice just to see you flustered.

Protective Without Being Controlling

He trusts you completely, but if he senses danger, he’s at your side in an instant, ready to eliminate any threat without hesitation.

Loves Watching You Sleep

Not in a creepy way—he just finds peace in watching your steady breathing, knowing you’re safe and sound beside him.

Takes Forever to Open Up

It’s hard for him to let people in, so when he finally shares his past and vulnerabilities with you, it means he truly trusts and loves you.

Will Sacrifice Anything for You

If you were ever in danger, he wouldn’t think twice about putting himself in harm’s way to protect you, no matter the cost.

Adores Physical Touch in Private

In public, he’s composed and distant, but behind closed doors, he melts at your touch, leaning into your warmth like he’s been starved of affection for years.

Finds Comfort in Your Presence

Just sitting together, reading or enjoying the quiet, brings him peace. You don’t need to talk—your presence alone is enough for him.

Gives the Softest Kisses

When Kakashi kisses you, it’s slow and lingering, like he’s memorizing the feel of your lips in case he never gets to do it again.

Calls You Cute Nicknames in a Teasing Way

Expect names like “sweetheart,” “darling,” or even “my little weakness,” always said with that smirk hidden behind his mask.

Remembers Every Tiny Detail About You

Your favorite food, how you like your tea, even the way you furrow your brows when you’re focused—he notices everything.

Flustered When You Flirt Back

He loves teasing you, but if you catch him off guard with a bold compliment or a flirtatious remark, you might actually make the Copy Ninja blush.

Loves When You Run Your Fingers Through His Hair

He won’t ask for it, but if you absentmindedly play with his silver hair, he’ll close his eyes and relax completely under your touch.

Rare but Heartfelt “I Love You’s”

He doesn’t say it often, but when he does, it’s soft, sincere, and spoken like a promise he’ll keep forever.

Late-Night Talks Under the Stars

Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, he’ll take you on a walk, holding your hand and talking about life, the future, and the things he wishes he could have.

Jealous but Subtle

He won’t make a scene, but if another guy flirts with you, Kakashi will casually wrap an arm around your waist, making it clear that you’re his.

Leaves You Cute Notes

If he’s away on a mission, he’ll leave behind little handwritten notes, each one filled with affectionate words or inside jokes just for you.

Always Makes Sure You Feel Safe

Whether it’s walking on the side of the road closer to traffic or holding you a little tighter at night, Kakashi is always looking out for you.

Kisses Your Forehead A Lot

It’s his favorite way to show affection—gentle, lingering kisses on your forehead, especially when he thinks you need reassurance.

His Love is Forever

Kakashi has lost too many people in his life, so when he loves, he loves deeply. If he’s yours, he’s yours for life.

OBITO UCHIHA

Hopelessly Devoted to You

If Obito loves you, he loves you with everything he has. His devotion is unwavering, and he would go to the ends of the earth to protect you.

Possessive but Not Controlling

He’s not the type to dictate your actions, but he does get jealous easily. If someone gets too close, his Sharingan might activate out of pure instinct.

Overprotective to a Fault

Losing Rin broke him, so the thought of losing you terrifies him. He’ll shadow you even when you don’t realize it, always making sure you’re safe.

Loves to Tease You

He has a mischievous, almost childish side. Expect playful pokes, smug smirks, and sarcastic remarks just to see you flustered.

Masks His Feelings with Humour

He’s been through so much pain that he struggles to express deep emotions. Instead, he cracks jokes or brushes things off with a laugh to hide his vulnerability.

Soft for You and Only You

To the rest of the world, he might be ruthless and cold, but with you, he’s gentle—he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Cuddling is a Must

He’s touch-starved, and though he won’t outright admit it, he craves your warmth. He’ll cling to you like his life depends on it, especially on bad days.

Always Watching Over You

Even when he’s not physically there, he’s keeping an eye on you. Whether through Kamui or simple intuition, he always knows when you need him.

Late-Night Talks About the Past

When he finally opens up, it’s usually under the stars, his voice low and raw with emotion. He trusts you with the pain he’s never shared with anyone else.

Gets Easily Flustered by Your Affection

Compliment him unexpectedly, and you’ll catch him struggling to hide his blush. He’ll mumble something sarcastic, but inside, he’s melting.

Hates Seeing You Cry

If you ever break down, expect him to hold you close and whisper reassurances. He doesn’t always know what to say, but he’ll never leave your side.

Rough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside

He might act indifferent or tough, but the moment you’re hurt, he turns into the most caring and protective person in the world.

Worships the Ground You Walk On

He genuinely believes you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He looks at you like you hung the moon.

Forehead Kisses Are His Weakness

He adores giving you soft forehead kisses, especially when he’s feeling sentimental. It’s his way of saying “I love you” without words.

Stubborn and Jealous

He’ll never admit he’s jealous, but his actions give him away—crossed arms, cold glares, and suddenly pulling you closer.

Wants You to Be Happy More Than Anything

Even if he’s consumed by darkness, your happiness is his one light. He’ll do anything to see you smile.

Acts Tough But Needs Reassurance

Deep down, he fears you’ll leave him. He won’t say it outright, but he needs you to remind him that you love him and that you’re not going anywhere.

Low-Key a Drama King

He’ll dramatically complain if you ignore him for too long or joke about how “heartbroken” he is if you tease him.

Falling Asleep in His Arms Feels Safe

He holds you tightly, as if making sure you’re still there. Sometimes, he whispers your name in his sleep.

His Love is Eternal

Once Obito loves you, it’s forever. Even in another life, another world, his heart will always belong to you.

MADARA UCHIHA

Absolute Possessiveness

Madara sees you as his and his alone. He doesn’t like the idea of anyone else being too close to you and will make it clear that you belong to him.

Unwavering Loyalty

Once you have his heart, there’s no turning back. He would tear apart entire armies for you without hesitation.

Protective to the Extreme

He won’t just protect you; he’ll eliminate anything that even dares to be a threat. No one messes with what belongs to him.

Cold to Others, Warm to You

The world sees him as ruthless, but with you, there’s a softness he doesn’t show anyone else.

Intimidating but Affectionate

He might tower over you with his imposing presence, but when it’s just the two of you, his touches are surprisingly gentle.

Rare but Overwhelmingly Intense Affection

Madara isn’t one for public displays of affection, but when he does express love, it’s deep, passionate, and consuming.

Loves When You Challenge Him

He enjoys a partner with fire—someone who won’t back down easily. If you can argue with him and hold your ground, he’s even more intrigued.

He’s a Tease, but Only for You

He has a sharp wit and enjoys making sly remarks just to see your reaction. It’s rare, but when he does, it’s always amusing.

Forehead Touches Instead of Kisses

He’s not the most openly affectionate person, but resting his forehead against yours is his way of expressing deep emotion.

A Warrior’s Devotion

If he has to choose between you and war, he’ll hesitate—but ultimately, you are his greatest weakness.

Hates Seeing You in Pain

He doesn’t always know how to comfort you, but his protective nature intensifies whenever you’re upset.

Prefers Actions Over Words

Madara isn’t a man of sweet nothings. His love is shown through actions, whether that’s guarding you, bringing you something you need, or pulling you into his arms.

Expect to Be Called “Foolish” Often

It’s just his way of teasing you when you do something reckless or stubborn. He secretly finds it endearing.

Nighttime Talks About His Past

If you gain his trust, he might share fragments of his past, speaking in low, contemplative tones while holding you close.

A Terrifyingly Loyal Man

If you betray him, there’s no forgiveness. But if you stand by his side, he’ll fight the entire world for you.

Softest Spot for You and Only You

While he’s cold and calculating with others, you are the one person he lets his guard down around.

Hates Admitting His Feelings

He’ll grumble about it, but his actions betray how deeply he cares. If you call him out on it, he’ll roll his eyes and change the subject.

A Deep, Gravelly Voice Whispering in Your Ear

His voice alone can make your heart race, especially when he’s murmuring your name.

His Stare is Intense

Whether in battle or simply watching you across the room, his gaze is piercing and unreadable—but there’s a hidden tenderness in it when it’s just you.

Loving Madara is Like Loving a Storm

He is raw power, destruction, and ambition wrapped into one. But if you can handle the chaos, you’ll find that his love is just as fierce as his rage.

———

💋 💋 💋

#naruto #madara uchiha #madara x reader #obito uchiha #obito x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi x reader #kakashi fluff #itachi uchiha #itachi x reader #naruto fluff

836 notes · View notes

thebubblesareevil · 2 months ago

Text

Everyone forgot Danny

It started out slow, he would be in class and people wouldn’t notice him until he spoke up. His parents would ask what they wanted for dinner and would look confused when he answered.

Slowly but surely people forgot who Danny was entirely.

His records vanished along with his memory.

At first Danny was angry, then he thought it was funny, and then his parents started to lose interest in ghost hunting and then he got worried and went to see clockwork.

The ghosts remembered him, but the people of amity park could not remember Danny.

It was a defense mechanism, clockwork explained, areas with high concentrations of ectoplasm would infect anything living and cause it to not notice or even forget ectoplasmic entities.

This was to prevent anything from actively attacking the realms or looking into things too deeply and learning things their mind could not comprehend.

It happened to protect both the living and the dead.

There was no going back. If the ectoplasm were to be forcefully removed the citizens would all die within the year, their bodies unable to support them anymore.

So now Danny was faced with a choice.

Leave amity and find a place for himself in the world

Stay in the infinite realms and take his rightful place on the throne.

Danny wasn’t ready to give up living, so he packed up everything he could, sealing away the rest his parents weapons in the ghost zone and locking up the lab.

He had some ghosts install a second basement so if anyone looked at the building plans nothing would be amiss, but no living creature would go through that portal again.

Danny travel from city to city, coast to coast. Until one day he was sitting on a dock and all hell broke loose.

A massive red tornado landed right in the middle of happy harbor.

Danny jumped into action, doing everything he could to get any and all civilians away from the tornado.

Insanely, there appeared to be a group of teenaged heroes around his age and younger.

Watching the team struggle, but eventually succeed was nostalgic. He knew they would learn, and who would it hurt if he stuck around for a bit to see where things lead?

So with the money he stole from vlad, he got himself an apartment and enrolled in school. He go a little help from technus to fake his records, but no mortal would be able to tell they were fake.

Up until school started, the teens would hang out around the beach. Danny watched from a distance and tried to figure out each of their powers.

He was pretty sure the red head was a speedster; clockwork loved to complain about them.

The big guy was definitely a superhuman. Strength at the minimum.

The red headed girl…was definitely not human. He didn’t even need to see her shift; no human teen would say “hello Megan” when referring to herself that often.

Blondie and Mr sunglasses definitely were skill based heroes

The only one he wasn’t sure about was tall dark and handsome. He showed some combat skills when he messed around with his friends. Maybe something water based? When he got in the water he stayed longer than most, but that was only when there was no other people near the group. So maybe he transformed in water? Danny wasn’t sure.

After school started, things were nice. He did well in his classes and his hero watching hobby was getting interesting. From what he could tell, superboy and the shifter were absolutely dancing around each other, it was actually kinda adorable.

He wasn’t sure what was going on with superboy, but he was definitely doing better getting acclimated to normal people; Danny suspected he was raised in a lab.

So time passed and things were nice. He was working hard and getting good grades, he had…friends. Totally, just because they only ever talked in class didn’t mean he had no friends.

Everything was good.

And then all the adults vanished. Danny didn’t know what was going on but he knew he had to help. So Danny got to work organizing the teens of happy harbor into some semblance of organization.

He rallied anyone with a license to collect kids around town after he Hotwired some buses. When the heroes arrive he tells them they have things handled there and to help other cities.

Eventually though (and I’m absolutely fucking with canon at this point) Billy batson shows up and is trying to make his way to mount Justice to get to the team only to run into a fucking eldrich horror.

Billy screams as soon as he sees Danny and Danny grabs him and throws him in an alley to confront him.

Danny then yells at the kid that if he wanted something then he didn’t need to yell and to please stop glowing.

Once they come to an understanding, Danny agrees to get Billy to mount Justice. He hot wires a motorcycle and Billy helps him break into the base.

It takes a bunch of convincing, but Danny reluctantly agrees to go in with him, but only because he wants to see their awesome gadgets and nothing else.

When confronted by the team of teens Billy struggles to prove who he is until wolf comes up and licks him.

Superboy (and Danny bursts out laughing when he learns that’s his actual hero name) and miss Martian both confront Billy about bringing Danny.

Billy refuses to explain on account of them really not having time right now. Danny meanwhile is looking over some of the reading they left up and suggests Billy try to transform.

After they get into contact and things are revealed to be caused by a group of sorcerers led by klarion.

After everything settles down, Batman confronts Danny who isn’t the least bit intimidated, instead saying he had a test coming up and needed to study.

Billy on the other hand decides he should convince Batman that Danny could be a valuable asset and proceeds to blackmail Danny into joining the team.

He ends up basically just helping out and dropping valuable but incredibly obscure bits of knowledge.

While Danny is really enjoying his time with the team, things come crashing down when vlad starts blackmailing him.

Obviously Danny doesn’t give into the blackmail because he thinks vlad is a fucking fruit loop but he constantly reminds Danny that he has way more ectoplasm the vlad does and it was only a matter of time before the heroes get infected and start forgetting him.

So Danny starts acting distant, hanging out less and less.

His friends are getting worried.

Kaldur tries to confront him but it only leads to Danny storming off and not returning to the base for a week.

No one knows how to help him, until Robin hacks into sports masters laptop and finds a file on Danny and what exactly they could use to emotionally cripple him if he ever joined the fight.

It also had data that none of them could understand but they were certain Danny could.

Kaldur is volunteered as tribute as the one to talk to Danny and fic him the file. When he reads it he breaks down in kaldurs arms because it showed that he didn’t release enough ecto to infect them.

They wouldn’t forget him.

So the next time the team leaves for a mission and they have intel that vlad would be there, he sneaks aboard the ship.

They’re nearly there when he finally reveals himself but no matter what any of them say he refuses to stay on the ship.

He only agrees to keep his distance so long as plasmius never shows his face.

Unfortunately for the villains, he does, and Danny shows all the villains present exactly why vlad was getting the big bucks for keeping Danny off the playing field.

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #brain vomit #young justice #this got out of hand #all of this because I misread invincible and read invisible #danny x kaldur #but only a little #Danny refuses to get close to people because he’s afraid they’ll forget him #way longer than I planned #didn’t even plan the young Justice

865 notes · View notes

oatmealmika · 3 months ago

Note

Law as your lover headcanon? (:

a/n : thank you for being patient with this request, anon!!! many virtual kisses coming your way <3

warnings : not proofread, not explicit smut, traumatized law, angst

word count : 684

loving law sounds like a hozier song. each night after the hardships of your daytime lives, you hold each other tight as you bask in his natural warmth. for a man who’s gone through so much heart-wrenching pain, his body wasn’t cold… a signifier that he was alive… his big hand circles your back, his strong, arched nose nuzzles into the crook of your neck. you longed for time to just pause at this very moment. you hated time with all you were.

at first, law didn’t want to fall in love. corazon showed him how bright love could be, but he couldn’t get hurt again. it’d shatter him if he had to lose anymore fractions of his soul. but when his days grew sunnier, even deep in the sea inside of his submarine, he knew he couldn’t fight how he felt.

one late night, you and law stayed in the kitchen talking. believe it or not, law was the one to confess. and once he opened his mouth, he couldn’t stop all the words from just flooding out. somehow, for the first time ever, the universe had to be on his side, because when a gleam crossed your face, he knew that night would forever be engraved into law’s soul.

he never thought he’d be such a romantic, and he failed to even notice it before shachi and penguin pointed it out to him. reflecting on it, he could acknowledge that he was a little bit… flowery, with his love: breakfast in bed, baths together, doing your laundry, and subconsciously following you around the submarine all day.

but he isn’t always the best lover. he definitely has his flaws, and nothing like this speaks louder than how he would push you away at the beginning of your relationship.

he was frightened. the thing the worst generation captain worth three billion berries was most scared of was undoubtedly opening his heart back up. in attempts to pushing you away, he’d make smartass remarks after the things you said, he’d suddenly act as if he didn’t love you, he’d prove to himself that he didn’t deserve you. you deserved someone who wasn’t so broken.

this was the roughest patch of your relationship. it didn’t end until you came crying to him, pleading the reason why he toyed with your heart so badly. and that was that. something inside him woke up, something that had been asleep ever since corazon died. he decided that, as long as he kept you alive and he was the one that had to die first, it’d be alright…

letting himself fall in love was the most freeing experience of his life. a huge weight lifted from his shoulders, his vision seemed clearer, and he felt the sun peep from behind the silhouettes of all the people behind him who wanted him to open his heart again.

falling asleep becomes easier, for you both. with the knowledge that no one could ever hurt you as long as the other was there. even if you yourself aren’t a good fighter, law knew in his soul that at least you would crave his absence, and that was enough for him.

four to six months into the relationship, you have your first time.

he was a mess. he felt he did so much wrong: cumming before you and rather quickly, whimpering so much that he knew you wouldn’t see him as the tough guy he always paraded around as, and even finishing with tears dripping down his cheeks.

a sense of guilt stung throughout him, but you managed to relax him about it when you sensed his uneasy silence. it took a little convincing that you didn’t mind, but he came around and allowed himself to indulge in another round.

law thought falling in love was out of the question for him before, but with you, he couldn’t believe how easy it was. he made mistakes. so many of them, and he knew there would still be more, but he wanted to figure it all out with you, sitting together for all of eternity.

made by @oatmealmika.

divider by @lavendergalactic.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law smut #trafalgar law smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #op law #one piece smut #op smut

390 notes · View notes

evenyvn · 1 month ago

Text

All You ; part 03

Idol!San x SingleMom!Reader

Summary : Little Hana noticed the spark between the two adults, tries to play cupid in her own childish ways, but her efforts often end in frustrated pouts. Despite their mutual denial, both adults are clearly drawn to each other-leaving Hana to wonder just how long it'll take them to realize they're in love.

Cw : she/her reader, sfw, fluff, third person POV, a little smau at the end, downbad san, reader has a daughter, stranger to lovers, un-established relationship, marriage mentioned, san is girl dad coded, basically a 10 year old being a matchmaker for two oblivious adults that are totally in love.

originally, this series would only have 3 parts, and this would be the last, but like—i got hit by a sudden wave of ideas, and decided to make it more than 3 parts, and the crowds... is cheering! (lmao me too, i love writing this series).

prev — masterlist — next

Hana was a clever girl—but still very much a child. Sharp-eyed, full of giggles, and not one to whisper when she could shout. And lately, she had made a very big decision: She was going to get her eomma and Uncle San to fall in love.

Because duh. (Hana’s words not me)

San came to the restaurant a lot now. He laughed with eomma. He helped Hana with her coloring books. He brought tasty snacks everytime he came over. He even let her put stickers on his face one time and didn't complain—not even once. That made him officially the best.

And most importantly? Eomma looked happier now. She smiled more, even when she was tired. Hana thought maybe San had magic or something. Probably.

But they were both so slow. Even for a 10 year old little Hana begins to feel frustrated.

She might be 10 but she knows from the other moms that frequently visit the restaurant—that if San and her eomma fall in love with each other, they will get married, and if they get married that means San is going to be eomma's husband, eomma's husband means Hana's appa! she giggles delightfully when she realizes that she will finally get a dad she never had.

And thus begins her (not so) subtle playing cupid for the adults.

One day, after school, Hana ran into the restaurant with her backpack bouncing and hair a mess. "UNCLE SAAAAN!"

San turned from his table, arms already open. Hana launched herself into them with full force, laughing as he caught her easily.

"I missed you! Did you miss me?!"

"Of course I did," San grinned, twirling her a little before settling her down. "You were gone for sooo long." he said with a playful pout.

"It was only one school day!" she giggled, puffing her cheeks. Then, eyes glinting, she leaned in close and whispered loudly, "Wanna hear a secret?"

San raised an eyebrow playfully, eyes glinting with adornment at the little girl's childish display "Always."

San bent over to her height as she cupped her small hands around his ear. "I don't have an appa, will you be my appa?"

San nearly choked on air. "W-what?!"

Hana nodded very seriously. "I want you to be my appa! because you make my eomma smile. A lot. I think you should live with us and you can eat my eomma’s soup every day. You like soup, right?"

"I mean... yes, but—"

"Good! Think about it!" she said, skipping off to color, leaving the man sitting there blinking like he’d just been hit by a very tiny freight train.

The next few days were full of chaos.

Hana, armed with all the subtlety of a marching band, began her matchmaking campaign in full. She tried everything—from drawing family portraits that included San, to pushing her mom into the seat next to him during meals. Once, she even shoved a napkin at San with the words 'KISS EOMMA??' scribbled in childish handwritting and rainbow crayons.

San coughed for a full minute making Y/N scrambled to get him a glass of water, the male could die of embarrassment right there—he thinks with his fully red cheeks.

Y/N didn’t catch on at first. She was busy running the restaurant, balancing life, and pretending that her heart didn’t flutter every time San laughed.

She scolded Hana gently one day, after finding her rummaging through her makeup. “What are you doing with my lipstick, baby?”

“I’m making you pretty so Uncle San falls in love faster!” She said as she fiddled with a tube of lipstick, a determined look on her face.

Y/N almost dropped the makeup pouch she was holding. Face full of embarrassment not expecting her daughter to play cupid between her and the idol.

“But it’s okay, eomma! You’re already pretty without it! Uncle San is just really slow!” the woman almost giggle at the little comment of San but clears her throat as she gently scolds her, but of course that's not stopping Hana's master plan on getting a new dad.

Later, while wiping tables with Y/N after closing, the memory still echoed in San’s head. He had NOT stopped thinking about it, he feels delighted of course but also nervous.

How come a woman like Y/N didn't have someone sweeping off her feet already? She's kind, smart, and of course a beauty that could rival even a goddess. (his words, not mine).

San sighed as he finally built a nerve to ask the woman with clammy hands, "So.. Hana said... you're not married," he said quietly. before widening his eyes in realization “W-wait I'm sorry— this might be a sensitive topic! I shouldn't have asked…” the man stuttered over his words, cold sweat rolled down his temple.

Y/N glanced over before chuckling softly, San tried to ignore the little flutter on his heart at the sound of her laughter. "Oh. No, I'm not. Not for a while now." “And it's okay San, I've come to terms with it since years ago. I'm not ashamed you know—raising Hana all by myself for 10 years become my own accomplishment, she's everything that i could've ask for”

He nodded his heart flutter gently at the woman's adoring words, unsure what to say next. "I thought maybe... you were. That I shouldn’t... get close." He said nervously rubbing his neck.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, before widening her eyes, realizing what the man could’ve meant, “San.. are you perhaps.. took an interest in me?” Her forwardness made the man even more flustered, almost spilling his coffee.

“I-i… you don't mind if I do right?”

Y/N smiled faintly, but there was something soft in her voice. "And here I thought someone like you wouldn’t think twice about someone like me."

"Why wouldn’t I?" he said with a curiosity laced on his voice.

Y/N smiled, a tad bit unsure "You’re an idol. Young, shining, talented. I’m a mom with grocery lists and nap schedules." She chuckled lightly to lighten the sudden tense atmosphere but that didn't erase the slight frown on San's handsome face.

"And the warmest smile I’ve ever seen," San said, almost without thinking.

She blinked.

Before anything else could be said, Hana peeked from the booth, hugging her dragon plush toy. "Did you ask her yet? Are you gonna be our prince???"

Y/N let out a startled laugh. San turned red to his ears. "Hana!" Y/N scolded gently. "You can't just say that, what if you make San uncomfortable?"

"Nooo, I’m just right!" Hana said proudly with the same determined look on her face, then yawned. "Can we all have pancakes tomorrow? Together? Like a family?"

Y/N and San shared a look.

They didn’t say yes. But they didn’t say no either.

The next day, the restaurant was busy. A couple of nosy regulars had started whispering about the idol's frequent visits. One even nudged Y/N with a wink. “You and the idol, huh?” Y/N waved it off with a polite smile, but her cheeks burned.

Later, in the back kitchen, Y/N sighed as she leaned against the counter.

“He’s too young,” she murmured to herself with a sigh “Too good. And I’ve got baggage. Not to mention it could ruin his whole reputation in a second”

But when she heard San’s laughter from the dining area—loud, bright, and genuine— the way he treated Hana so gently like a father could make something in her chest tightened. Not with fear.

With hope.

Maybe Hana was right.

Maybe San wasn’t here out of obligation.

Maybe... he really liked them.

And maybe, just maybe, she liked him too.

That night, as they cleaned up together again, San turned to face her.

"Noona. Can I ask you something weird?" He said with a playful smile although his heartbeat said otherwise. She looked at him with a teasing smile. "Only if you can handle a weird answer."

He chuckled nervously. "If I weren’t... who I am. Would you think about me differently? Like, if I were just a guy who helped your daughter carry groceries?"

She paused. Then smiled, more gently this time. "San, you are that guy. And maybe that’s the part of you I’m starting to like the most."

San didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t. Something about those words—so simple—yet it wrapped around his ribs and squeezed gently—an ache that wasn’t painful, just overwhelming not in a bad way.

He glanced at her eyes that stare at him with so much kindness and genuinity . They both stare at each other as the realization hits. Hana’s snores from the corner were the only sound for a moment.

Then San smiled—slow and wide.

"Okay then," he said softly. "That’s a start."

And Y/N nodded.

Yes. Yes, it was.

taglist - @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18 @flambychan @dumplingsyum @iwuberic @kirilunimimi @thedistractedwriter @d3kstar @rosydipity @jilxxasu @dumplingsyum @hexsannie @dalsuwaha @lveegsoi @silver-hwaberry @mouthfullobats @satans-arse-crack @pixie0627 @yothangie @moonlitarcade @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone @emilysecresy @ateezaddict24 @xh01bri @flylis @mimiisbetter @angie-316

taglist are closed!

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated ♡

#✦;; san #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #choi san x reader #san x y/n #san x reader #san imagine #choi san imagine

356 notes · View notes

raven-dor · 2 months ago

Text

i can't help but love you

in which pietro maximoff falls for his coworker...

PAIRING: pietro maximoff x fem!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader

WARNINGS: arguing, oblivious nature, more arguing, tension, angst, avoiding, jealousy, fluff ending!!

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

🎶 : war of hearts - ruelle

AN: ♥️💗 - i guess there's no civil war au with this? like everyone lives in the tower and nothing bad ever happened - yippee right?! anyways, enjoy!!

“Maximoff!”

Y/N Stark’s voice rang clear through the 59th floor of the Avengers Tower, and Wanda laughed as she stalked into the living room. “What has he done now?”

“Your brother-” The girl was practically fuming. “Has destroyed my project.”

“Lies.” The speedster stood near the glass doors that led to the landing pad. “She is lying.”

“Don't.” Y/N hissed, approaching the speedster with murderous intent. “You know what you did.”

“Please enlighten me as to what I have done.”

“I swear to god, Pietro.” Her voice was ragged, and Wanda frowned. Her friend’s normally witty disposition was nowhere to be seen. “I stayed up all night working on that- it had just started working, and you- you-”

“What’s going on?” Steve’s voice cut through the tension the pair had so expertly built. They refused to face the Captain, opting to glare at each other menacingly. “Either of you care to explain?”

Neither moved, as if they were in one of those gun fights in those westerns Clint loved so much. Wanda sighed, giving up on her peace and quiet. “Pietro destroyed Y/N’s project.”

“I stayed up all night working on it.” Y/N whined, still glaring at Pietro.

Steve sighed, placing his hands on his hips. Y/N would have teased him for acting like her father in any other circumstance. “Pietro, you can’t keep doing this.”

“It is not my fault little Stark gets so angry. It was just a little fun.”

“Just a little fun, huh?” Pietro nodded, smirking. “I’m going to-” Y/N’s hand was itching to punch the Sokovian in the stomach.

“I think you need to take a break.” Steve intervened, eyeing her clenched hand with fear. “I’ll deal with him, don’t worry.”

“He-” She squeezed her eyes shut before nodding sharply. “Fine.”

Steve waited until she was out of view to address the speedster. “Maximoff.”

He was still smirking. “Yes, Captain?”

“The whole ‘bullying the girl because you like her’ routine is getting old. There are easier ways to get her attention.”

Wanda laughed as her brother’s cheeks grew bright red. “What?”

“She’ll never forgive you if you keep messing with her projects. They’re important to her, and-” He huffed, placing a hand on Pietro’s shoulder. “Just go easy on her, okay? You know how hard she’s been working.”

Pietro nodded, cheeks still bright. “Yes, sir.��

Normally, mission debriefs went smoother.

Keyword, normally.

Wanda had always noticed this, the tension between the two, but after this particular meeting, it became clear to everyone. She reminded herself to start a betting pool after Steve finished the debrief.

“You can’t be serious, Cap.”

“I am serious.” Steve sighed. “It makes the most sense. With your expertise and his-”

“Steve…” It seemed Y/N was not below begging. “Anyone but him, please.”

“That desperate to escape me, Princessa?” Pietro wiggled his eyebrows. “You know you-”

“Don’t.” She raised her hand, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

Tony watched with mild fascination, leaning back in his chair. Natasha leaned over, whispering in his ear. “What’s going on with those two?”

“I’ll die out there.” Y/N cried. “He doesn’t care about watching my back.”

“Hold on-” Pietro looked mildly offended.

“I don’t know what exactly happened between the two of you, but Pietro would never leave you to die.” Steve looked stern. “You know that.”

Pietro nodded, not that that reassured her in the slightest.

“Fine.” She huffed. “Whatever, just continue, I guess.”

Steve smiled, looking back at the screen. “Thank you. As I was saying-”

The rest of the team hadn’t missed the way Pietro stared at Y/N, eyes wide like a kicked puppy’s. And Tony hadn’t missed the way his daughter’s eyes lit up when she ‘glared’ at the Sokovian.

“ETA?”

“Five minutes, tops.” Y/N unplugged the hard drive, stuffing it in her pocket. “Just got the drive.”

Pietro looked nervously out the door. “Hurry, Princessa.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Princessa?” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you not-”

“Just stop, alright?”

Pietro nodded. “Fine. Are you finished?”

She shook the drive that laid in her palm. “I’ve been finished. Thought you were supposed to be up to speed, Quicksilver.” Walking past him and toward the doorway, she almost gasped when his hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her back. “What the hell is your prob-”

“Do you trust me?”

She’d been caught off guard by that question, replying before she could even truly think about her answer. “Of course.”

“What’s taking so long, you two?” Her father’s voice rang over the comms. “Can’t keep the Quinjet here forever.”

She peeled her eyes away from Pietro’s, staring at the doorway. “Relax, old man.”

Pietro put his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against him. Her cheeks flushed. “What are you doing?”

“Just-” He looked down, smiling lightly. “You said you trust me.”

She nodded slowly. “Do we need to get your hearing checked?”

“Don't let go.”

“Okay.” She tried to ignore the way her stomach flipped when he looked at her.

The New York skyline was so beautiful in the middle of the night. Her legs dangled over the edge of the balcony as she stared out at the people below.

“What are you doing awake?”

She jumped, clutching her chest. “Jesus, Maximoff.” She shook her head. “You can’t just pop out of nowhere like that.”

He laughed. “Did I startle you?”

“No.” She deadpanned. “That’s why I jumped.”

“Perhaps you should not sit by the edge then.”

She rolled her eyes, slapping his arm half-heartedly. “What’s got you up?”

“I asked you first,” Pietro responded. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She sighed. “Just- can’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Ah.” A beat of silence fell over them before he spoke again. “When we were younger, and I couldn’t sleep, my mother used to make me a special tea.” He stared at the traffic below, a nostalgic melancholy look on his face. “Wanda makes it for me now.”

“Do you miss your mother?” She whispered.

“Everyday.” Pietro smiled. “And my father.”

Y/N nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize.” His mouth went dry, she was staring at him so intensely. “I will make you a cup.”

“You don’t need to do that, Pietro. Really.”

“It is no trouble.” He stood up, extending his hand. “Come inside.”

“I’m fine out here.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Because you are shivering.”

She laughed, taking his hand as he guided her to warmth. “Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, releasing his hold on her to fill the kettle. “Doing what, Princessa?”

“You’re-” She smiled. “You’re being nice.”

“I do not enjoy upsetting you.”

She huffed, sitting on the island as Pietro grabbed two mugs. “Could have fooled me.”

“We are not so different, you and I.” He leaned against the counter across from her, and her eyes fell on his arms, stretching the fabric of his sleeves so beautifully. “I forget what made us this way.”

“I don’t remember either,” Y/N whispered back. “I just remember you trying to stop my dad from completing Vision.”

“In my defense-” Pietro laughed. “I thought-”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I know.” They sat in a comfortable silence, staring at each other. When the kettle hissed, breaking their peace, Pietro turned around, pouring them each a cup. There was something so domestic about this moment, about him helping her fall asleep. If anyone had walked in the kitchen right then and there, she would have denied that any camaraderie had occurred.

She wondered if he would do the same.

He turned back around, and she straightened her posture, all of a sudden insecure about how she looked. He blew carefully, cooling down the tea so she could drink it. “For you.”

She smiled, taking it gratefully. “Thank you.” He nodded, watching as she took her first sip. Her eyes widened, honestly surprised at the taste. “It’s delicious.”

He grinned, cheeks growing red. “You are just saying that.”

“No, really!” She insisted, taking another sip. “It’s delightful, honestly.”

“I am glad you enjoy it.” His voice was quiet, deep as they realized how closely they were. His head was hung, mere inches away from hers. “Princessa-”

“I-” She interrupted. “I should go. To bed. I should go to bed.” Setting the mug down, she jumped down from the counter. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Anytime.”

Steve was fuming, which, if you knew the Captain, was extremely rare. The quinjet was silent as their leader pointed out their mistakes, their missed chances. “This was a perfect mission, you two. What happened?”

Y/N sat on the bench, staring at her hands. “We almost-”

“No excuses.” Steve raised his hand, waiting for an answer. “What happened?”

“It was my fault, Captain.”

Steve faltered, looking over at the girl for confirmation. “Is that true?”

“What are you doing?” She whispered to Pietro.

The speedster ignored her. “She was hurt.”

“It was a scratch.” Y/N insisted. “I told him we could keep going.”

“It was not a scratch.” Pietro hissed. “They shot you.”

“Stop,” Y/N whispered.

“What?”

She stared at him, desperate to figure him out. “Stop acting like you care. You wanted to play the hero, and you ruined the mission.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” Y/N’s eyes hardened, ignoring the looks their teammates gave them. “Do you deny it?”

He nodded. “You are wrong.”

“Doesn’t seem like I am. You’ve been in this situation before - when Clint got grazed two weeks ago, you kept going.”

“That was different-”

“Or when Nat was trapped back into a corner. She told you to go on without her. No hesitation.”

“Princessa-”

“When Wanda sprained her ankle, and she told you she could keep going, you listened. What’s so different?” She interrogated. “That you had to ruin everything?”

Pietro looked hurt, angry, and hurt. “I think you know why.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about.”

“Fine by me.” She sat back, staring at the wall until they landed. And when they had, she’d been the first one off, stalking toward the training room.

“He loves you.”

She scoffed, punching the boxing dummy once more. “How do you know?”

Tony laughed, crossing his arms. “C’mon, kid. He ruined what should have been a simple mission because you were scratched.”

“So?”

“You said it yourself. He didn’t save his sister when she sprained her ankle.” He took a step closer. “He loves you, and you’re scared.”

“I’m-” Punch. “Not-” Punch. “Scared.” Punch.

“Yeah?” Her father sighed. “You seem scared to me. Classic Stark move, you know. Running from affection.”

She pushed past him, taking a sip from her water bottle. “You perfected it.”

“Never said I didn’t.” He shrugged. “Another classic. Deflecting."

"Get to the point."

"Just don’t lose out on this. That kid cares about you, and I’m not going to be around forever-”

“Dad…”

“Give him a break.” Tony placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling lightly. “Do it for me, okay?”

“Fine.”

“And go take a shower.” He laughed. “You stink.”

They hadn’t talked since the quinjet, since the mission had blown up in flames.

Two weeks had passed since the rest of the Avengers solved the case, since they’d been the only ones left in the tower, since she’d ask Friday if he was in the kitchen, and sneak out of her room when the coast was clear.

Now, as she sat at the party thrown in honor of the successful mission, she fought the way the hairs on her arms raised as she felt his stare from across the room.

Instead, she flirted with the bartender.

Her dress had long flowy sleeves, which was not normally her style, but because of her ‘injury’ she now felt disgusted by the scar. It was off the shoulder and short, short enough to capture someone’s attention.

“You’re stunning.” The handsome man behind the bar was the perfect distraction.

Her eyelashes were low, smile mischievous as she responded. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He nodded. “Plan on being here for long?”

“That depends.”

His eyebrow raised. “On what?”

“When your shift ends.”

“Y/N.”

A deep sigh left her, and she quickly smiled at the bartender before spinning in her chair to face him.

“Maximoff.”

“Can we talk for a moment?”

She honestly considered it, ignoring him and going back to the man that eagerly waited behind her. But the look in his eyes and the way her heart twisted under his gaze was enough to convince her. “Quickly.”

Pietro nodded, following after her. “What is his name?”

“I don’t think you get to know, since you so rudely interrupted.” She stopped in the hall, the party now a dull roar. “What do you want?”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Oh?” He frowned. “The computer told me your 'escape' plans.”

“Friday!” She gasped, looking up. “What the hell?”

“Mr. Stark made me.” The computer responded, and she silently cursed her father.

“I've missed you.”

She raised an eyebrow, forcing herself to act uninterested. “I don’t know why. We’re not friends.”

“No.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to her lips for a second too long. “We’re not.”

“Well, this has been exactly what I expected.” She clapped her hands. “If you don’t mind, I have to get back to-”

“He will only hurt you.” He whispered.

“I don’t care.” She hissed. “He’s a distraction; that’s enough for me.”

“A distraction?” Pietro looked much too confident. “From what, exactly?”

“From you and your creepy stare.” She lied straight through her teeth. Technically, she wasn't lying. She really was flirting with the bartender to distract herself from the larger issue: her feelings for him. “Following me everywhere. It’s-” Pietro took a step closer, and she choked on her words, swallowing. “You’re-”

“Yes?” He whispered. “It seems as if you are at a loss for words.”

“Why can’t we just go back to arguing?”

“We can argue.” He smiled. “We can do anything you want.”

“You’ll agree with anything I say, won’t you?”

Pietro shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

“Oh?” He nodded. “Get me a slice from-” A small to-go box laid in her hand before she could even blink. Fighting the smile that threatened to break through her hard exterior, she bit her lip. “I never finished my sentence.”

“Bravo Pizza, Union Square.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “You visit after every mission.”

“You-“ She shook her head, and opened the box, two New York slices inside. “Alright then. I want to sit on the landing pad.”

“Jesus, Pietro.” The New York traffic blared below them, lights flickering like stars in the night sky. She gripped his suit jacket, questioning her stability in these heels. “This is higher than I remember.”

“Princessa.” She hummed, leaning her head against his chest. His finger hooked under her chin, pulling her eyes away from the city. “It is alright.”

“I didn’t think this through.”

He laughed, gripping her waist tighter. “You won’t fall, I promise.”

“Wow.” She whispered. “Even your eyes are silver.” She stared for a moment longer. “They’re captivating.”

He smiled, pushing a stray hair out of her face. “I am yours to command.”

“Anything?”

He nodded. “Anything at all.”

“Forgive me.” If he had not been staring at her lips, the wind could have carried her words away.

“Forgive you for what, Princes-” Her lips collided with his, passionately, deeply, pulling him closer, as close as she could.

His eyes widened before he even registered that she was kissing him, that she was actually kissing him. His hands trailed further up her back, one landing on her waist, and one landing on the side of her face, caressing her cheek.

“Pietro.” She whispered, pulling away.

“I was supposed to kiss you.” He laughed, kissing the corner of her mouth gently. “I had a plan.”

“I suppose…” She smirked, reveling in his touch. “You’ll have to be quicker than that.”

taglist: @milesdrift

#literature #fanfiction #x reader #fluff #angst #marvel #pietro maximoff #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff x fem!reader #pietro maximoff x stark!reader #stark!reader #tony stark #captain america #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #🪩! fics

319 notes · View notes