#at the moment I’m not sure whether I loved it or hated it
Note
Taken Abroad is sooo good! And the accompanying memes are great too 💖
Bro imagine if demon reader went full hardcore one day and just keeps letting to circlets dig into their flesh and bone until their hands just fall off, using the second they separate to vanish. Like they are a forest demon, so what if they just regrow their hands? Or make prosthetic nature ones? Like I’m sure their freedom wouldn’t last long (thanks to Monkey King’s gold vision) but I’d love to see the group’s reaction to such gruesome determination!
Taken Aboard:
Amputation
I’m glad you like it! I really thought that the Journeyfam should have a mix of goofy and tragic, because the novel itself can get pretty damn funny.
Another ‘funny’ thing? This little stunt wouldn’t work at all. Given what we know about Wukong’s powers, he can rip his head off and regenerate it (His beheading contest with the Tiger Strength Immortal in the novel) and since he’s still got the circlet after that…
Y/N will still have theirs.
And obviously no one is happy to see that this child would do something so horribly gruesome and bloody to themself, leaving to a wide array of horrified reactions.
Ao Lie is devastated that you would hurt yourself for any reason at all. Once you’ve been dragged back to camp by the snickering Monkey King, the dragon prince rushes to your side and snatches you up, nuzzling you to his chest. “Oh, I’m glad you’re alright! You poor little thing, what were you thinking? Trying to slice those bands off! Sweetie, what if something had gone wrong during the regrowing process? Here, let Brother Lie wash the blood off of you!”
He dotes on you for a good hour or two, starting by thoroughly scrubbing you down in a shallow washbasin. (He heats the water in his draconic form.) There’s a mixture of very light scolding and extraordinary concern, scraping all across your body with a wooden bath brush. Once you’re nice and clean you get wrapped up in one of his spare robes to dry off, forced to sit and listen to one of the monk’s lectures as Lie brushes out and braids your hair.
“I think you need to start sleeping in Brother Lie’s tent from now on, sweetie. Maybe it’ll help to keep those little feet from wandering, hmm?”
His voice is gentle, even as you’re forcibly stuffed into a thick sleeping bag, the same one that Lie always uses. For a moment you think he’s simply going to watch you to prevent any further escapades, but then he squishes in beside you, wrapping you tight in his arms.
“Sleep well, sweetie. Big brother will keep you safe.”
———————————————————————-
Sun Wukong laughs at you first, having tried the same thing by: smashing his forehead inwards, shattering his skull entirely, ripping his head off, etc. “You could have just asked for some advice on the cuffs, bud. I would’ve told ya that they jump back to your real body, y’know!”
His hands work through the tangled locks of your hair, plucking out juicy bugs and crunchy twigs. “Shut up,” you huff, squirming around in his lap. “I hate them. And you wouldn’t have known whether or not it would’ve worked! You only have one of them!” “S’not fair,” he half-heartedly agrees, if only to set up his next few word. “You should’ve just had one- around your neck to shut you up!”
The Great Sage giggles as you lunge at him, dodging your attempt to bite his wrist. “Easy, easy! C’mon, I was just teasing you!” He grabs your waist and wrestles you to the ground, his fingers dragging lightly across your skin as he tries to force a few giggles or even just a smile out of you. Between angry laughs you manage to throw a punch, feeling his snout bend under your hand.
And though it doesn’t hurt worse than a mild sting, Wukong is still a little astounded that his ‘little sibling’ got outright violent with him. “…you know what, bud? Maybe you do need some ‘quiet time’. I’m gonna keep you here in my lap for a few more hours, I think. And! No saying even a word!”
And before you can argue or complain he tacks on a “How bout I tell you another story from my time back in Flower Fruit Mountain, huh?” Of course you get a story, because this isn’t really a punishment, after all. He’s just framing it as one so you ‘have’ to sit and spend time with one. He’s a pretty clever monkey.
“…a story about killing hunters?”
“Sure thing, kiddo.”
———————————————————————-
Sha Wujing has no words. He’s hurt and saddened that you would do this to yourself, nearly in tears at the sight of your wounds. He finally has people who accept not only his mistakes and misdeed, but his demonic form alongside them.
And now one has done this.
To Wujing, this isn’t just a team of random travelers. This is his family. You are his family. And he cannot bear to see you so upset and distraught that you might switch to such gruesome and self-injurious behaviors.
The river demon will switch to baby gloves afterwards, treating you like a porcelain figure that is bound to shatter when mishandled.
He’ll carry you on his shoulders and his back and in his arms, squishing your tiny form perfectly into his protective chest. For hours on end the demon will usher you about, never daring to let you free from the safety and security that his power offers.
Instead of allowing you to feed yourself, Wujing will push cut your meals into pieces and them to you piece by piece, ensuring that you won’t choke (intentionally or otherwise) on them. And he won’t let you get dressed alone
He sees the severance of your limbs more as a form of “self-harm” than an attempt to escape, unfortunately for you. It leads him to think of you as a danger to yourself that needs to be properly wrangled and tended to.
All you can do when he’s around from then on is submit to “Brother Sand’s” loving care, and pray he might stop thinking of you as unstable and prone to breakage.
———————————————————————-
Zhu Bajie is thoroughly disgusted, though that revulsion is born mostly of worry. Nobody wants to see a kid slice off their own wrists, and he certainly wasn’t hoping to see you standing in a puddle of your own blood, your torn flesh bubbling sizzling and bubbling up as it regrew.
And he especially didn’t want something so awful to happen to his little sibling. Not to someone so very precious to him.
Bajie really just… doesn’t know what to do.
You’re hurt. Usually this scenario ends with him either eating a human or smashing a demon’s head open with his nine-tooth rake. And he’d fight off the monk’s reprimands with his own volley of justifications. “Y/N is a child! Any jerk who would hurt them is unforgivable!” He’d declare, his mouth stained with fresh crimson. “A demon who would put their hands on a child is just a monster, that’s all,” the pig might yell, clutching you to his chest protectively.
Neither of those are options when you’ve the person that hurt you is yourself.
All the swine can really do is hold you and try not to scream your ear off about never hurting yourself again, rocking back and forth like he’s trying to soothe a baby to sleep.
Maybe that will help.
Maybe if he holds you long enough and keeps his grip tight, Bajie can prevent you from being hurt by anyone or anything ever again.
Or maybe it’s just his way of keeping you from leaving him and this little family again.
———————————————————————-
Tang Sanzang, reasonable man that he is, understands that you’re not in a great headspace right now. If things got so bad that you viewed the gory removal of your arms as a reasonable option to escape, then what you need isn’t further punishment… but a firm and guiding hand.
So the monk refrains from the sutra and chooses instead to tend to your fragile condition. Reassurance that he isn’t angry at what you’ve done to yourself, a promise that you’re already forgiven for running. I think he’s likely to mandate constant surveillance of you from now, always to be under the eye of either him or one of his disciples.
He tends any wounds or aches with balm, stitches the tears in your clothing, then puts you to bed with a canteen of water at your side.
His well of patience is truly endless, only leaving room for an occasional reprimand or a quick tightening of the blessed bands on your wrists. There’s no lashing out, no brutal punishments.
Hurting yourself has not changed that.
Sanzang will spend each early morning before travel checking you over for new wounds and changing out any bandages you’ve got wrapped around old injuries.
The Great Monk stills cherishes you, of course. He’ll never stop cherishing you.
He’s just a little more gentle with that love now.
#Time Talks#Platonic Yandere#Yandere Lego Monkie Kid#Yandere LMK#Yandere Tang Sanzang#Yandere Sun Wukong#Yandere Ao Lie#Taken Aboard#Journeyfam#Yandere Memes#Yandere Sha Wujing#Yandere Zhu Baije#TW: Self Harm
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soo i’m writing a marcmarc fanfiction and Im going to make it multi chapter, it’s going to explore a bit Bez’s internalised homophobia and his path towards the light (fucking with Marc)
and i’m going to upload it both here and on Ao3, if you like it i’d love for you to leave kudos, no pressure tho obv <3
I took a bit of inspiration by @anitalianfrie and some ideas from @yeastinfectionvale because the two of you are the most dangerous marcmarc psychosexual supporters I relate with
Below you can find the fic, if u enjoy reading on Tumblr more than on Ao3❤️
2024 pre-season
It was cold, but still, Marco was sitting outside the ranch, it was around 3 in the morning he supposed, thoughts clouded by the joint he was still finishing up.
He was trying to reflect on something that had been seriously affecting his life lately, or rather much someone.
Marc Marquez.
Since he had signed with Gresini the Spaniard just seemed to continuously pop up into his life, whether it was on track or not, like last week for example, he was out with a group of his friends and who did he meet at the club he went to? Marc Marquez, drinking with a guy he thought was a friend of the man, but the more he thought about it, the more he remembered strange details, like a hand lingering a bit too much or a few glances casted in a very lustful way.
He archived the memory as a made up one, a result of the not so little amount of alcohol he consumed that night.
Plus, Marc had a girlfriend, and even if he didn't, everyone on the grid was straight.
All the jokes, flirty ones even, were always platonic and between friends, he did that too with Pecco, and it wasn’t like he was…gay.
He had had a girlfriend until a few weeks prior, when she decided it would’ve been a good idea to cheat on him and dump him via text of all things.
The joint was coming to an end, and with it all his will to stay outside and freeze, looking for a warm blanket and a snack instead.
Memories grew along with his hunger, and the frames of his mind ran back to the night he saw Marquez at the club.
Shirt buttoned just halfway, a silver necklace adorning his neck and bouncing slightly every time he moved.
His smile, a painfully magnetic one, drawing people to him like moths to a flame, like his eyes, profound and deep.
But what Bez remembered the best were his shoulders.
Broad, muscled, tanned and glowing with sweat, moving up and down rhythmically when he laughed.
If he focused enough, he could remember peeking the outline of one of Marc’s scars from the hem of his shirt, and something similar to a hickey on the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sinfully on display.
Fuck, why did he remember those things? He was pretty sure that a blonde flirted with him that night, he was sure she was hot even, but he couldn’t remember a single detail from her, just from that small fucking bastard
As his mind stopped wandering Bez realized he was back into his room, an half finished protein bar in hand and an obviously painful bulge in his pants.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck how did that happen? was it the blonde? it couldn’t have been Marquez, could it?
The answer came when his dick twitched at the mention of Marc’s name.
cazzo
He was conflicted: should he let it go away on its own or act on it? because he knew the moment he would’ve touched himself thinking of his rival it would’ve been over for him.
Seeing him in the paddock, on insta or at one of the clubs would’ve meant remembering this.
No no no he hated Marquez, this was just the smoke speaking for him, he always got a bit horny after smoking, it wasn’t different from other times.
Except it was. It was so much different, this longing he felt for the older guy, the need he had to just lick his lips and bite down on those delicious looking shoulders, grabbing his neck and crushing their lips together.
Bez also remembered the cologne he was wearing; it smelled like woods and fresh, he didn’t know much about perfumes but that was surely a smell he wasn’t going to forget it easily.
“Maybe it’s not that bad. Just once, one time and then I’ll forget about him”
he thought while sliding into bed and slowly slipping his hand into his pants.
It was embarrassing how quickly he became vocal about it, softly of course because he didn’t want the other guys or worst, Vale, to hear him moan out Marc Marquez’s name and finding him like that.
He stroked his cock with growing speed, twisting his wrist when he came close to the tip, gritting his teeth and grabbing the sheets with his free hand.
“Marc-“ a suffocated plea leaving the boy's mouth, but remaining painfully present in his room, floating around as a curse.
The more he thought about the Spaniard the harder he got, he wanted more more more.
He wanted Marc, in all his stupid perfection, he wanted him to choke on his cock, or bouncing on it, he wanted Marc to be as desperate for him as Bez was for the man.
“Si si si” a trail of words left the boy’s mouth to get lost into the silent and cold night in Tavullia, alongside with Marco’s orgasm, which hit him hard and fast, ropes of white liquid staining his abdomen and part of the sheets.
He went to the bathroom to wash his hands and getting cleaned up, being extra careful not to wake anyone up.
He looked at himself in the mirror, cheeks red, puffy lips and glassy eyes, pupils still blown wide from the smoke and the excitement of the recent jerk off session.
He knows he will have to face what he just did, because what if it wasn’t just Marc? What if it was men in general? Could have he been bisexual? To be fair he was a bit scared to know, what if Vale or one of the guys found it disgusting? what if his family did?
Could’ve he kept that secret for long?
He doesn’t think so, honestly he’s scared of loosing both families at once for something like that.
No no, he ultimately decided.
If he understands he likes guys he’s going to keep it for himself.
It’s going to be better for everyone that way
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Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.
Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.
For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.
The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.
He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.
“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”
That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”
You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.
“What got you thinking so hard?”
Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.
“Me?”
“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”
It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.
Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.
He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.
When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.
As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.
You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.
“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”
With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”
Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.
“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.
#ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#call of duty#simon riley x reader#mw2#modern warfare#mw3#john soap mactavish#john mactavish
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)
synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too
— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)
— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)
— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333
the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good.
you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left.
and then satoru wins.
you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead.
whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure.
and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware.
for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.
it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place.
he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it.
“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free.
“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”
“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”
“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair.
it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared.
it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.
you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on.
you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close.
“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”
“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”
“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”
“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”
your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper.
“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?”
suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for.
you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore.
“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down.
“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.
“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”
you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were.
but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself.
you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.
“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”
“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”
“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”
“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.
“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever.
i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.
“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.
he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”
it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why.
————————————————
even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought.
the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare.
you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature.
“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again.
as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face.
except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high.
it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath.
“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause.
and then you remember.
faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru.
it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have.
but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again.
“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh.
“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”
“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.
“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”
it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself.
“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close.
“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”
you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness.
when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night.
————————————————
“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans.
“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest.
it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room.
but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry.
“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.
“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”
“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”
“tell him to go fuck off.”
“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”
“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly.
you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not.
he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen.
you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast.
but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between.
so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”
“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace.
“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.
he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile.
“let’s go,” you hum.
“after you,” he mutters.
—
he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart.
suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.
it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.
as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name.
“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”
he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles.
for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away.
“what are you—”
“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment.
“what?”
“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”
“i’m not a teenager anymore—”
“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”
“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years.
“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”
so you do.
with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.
“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”
“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.
“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”
“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you.
“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”
suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru.
suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had.
something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.
but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him.
“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”
“me too,” he says quietly.
“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”
home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.
“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”
“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind.
his breath hitches.
she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror.
there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms.
perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened.
because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.
suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him.
“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance.
he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.
but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to.
but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention.
“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence.
every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them.
“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”
“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”
suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.
“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”
“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them.
but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.
————————————————
satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to.
you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down.
but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it.
satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself.
it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?
well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life.
it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).
it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in.
and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you.
it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin.
geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for.
so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you?
it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.
and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.
“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.
“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”
“about…?”
“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”
“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”
“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”
“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”
“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”
“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”
“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”
“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”
“what?” you blink.
“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”
“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”
“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it.
but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life?
good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him.
and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal.
ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score.
he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous.
“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”
“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”
“how lucky of you,” you snort.
—
picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good.
so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off.
“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”
“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”
“of all movies—”
“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”
“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”
“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”
all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think.
“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.
“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”
“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.
“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”
“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles.
suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it.
you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug.
“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”
suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed.
“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”
you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.
it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.
“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place.
in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.
it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.
————————————————
suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look.
“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”
“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”
“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch.
“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”
“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.
“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”
“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”
“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes.
sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this.
“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”
“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”
despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room.
suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.
“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”
there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook.
suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again.
he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.
“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind.
“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”
“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”
“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”
“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”
“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks.
it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.
deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.
it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left.
it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good.
you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence.
it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away.
“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.
“do what?”
“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”
“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”
“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.
“like what?” he raises a brow.
“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation.
he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.
“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”
you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.
of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too.
you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes.
“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”
“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.
fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too.
“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”
“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”
never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?
“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”
“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”
“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”
“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”
“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”
“i know—”
“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?”
“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”
“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.
“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever.
being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive.
“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.
“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”
you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.
“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.
he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy.
“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.
“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru.
“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little.
it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled.
“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”
“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”
“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises.
“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”
“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”
“yeah,” you breathe.
he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough.
you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink.
finally, for once, you’re enough.
“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”
“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”
“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”
“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.
he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering.
maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much.
in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.
“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum.
“because i need you here. will you stay?”
“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”
hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3
also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok
#teepods.writings#fics.#geto x reader#geto x you#geto fluff#geto angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk angst#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x you#geto suguru angst#geto suguru fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen fluff
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bleedin' me dry | luke castellan
runaway with luke ending here!!
summary: luke has a proposal. it doesn't go over well.
a/n: so um. obviously im a huge percy jackson stan ive got annabeth in my name and ive literally wanted to be her since i read the books in second grade and by virtue of being an annabeth stan i hate luke but i also think he is so interesting and so good for angst and i also love the pjo resurgence we’ve got going on here from the show!! so here you go. here's some angst
title from vampire by olivia rodrigo
wc: 2.8k
warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. luke is his own warning lmao. pushy and manipulative behavior, not the healthiest relationship! and no happy ending
“You know I love the forest,” you mused, “but you have to have a reason for bringing me out here.”
He gave you a wry smile as he squeezed your hand. “Do I have to have a reason? You said you love it—that’s gotta be reason enough.”
“I love it, but there are monsters here.” You twisted your free hand and flowers sprouted up a few feet away. “It does give me a chance to show off, though.”
You were in your cabin helping Katie clean up everything—it was the last day of summer and most of the Demeter kids had already left—when Luke knocked on the door and asked you to accompany him on “a little adventure”. Despite the teasing of your siblings, you bashfully accepted.
It wasn’t the smartest thing, admittedly, to find yourself in the forest with your boyfriend with a couple hours ‘til curfew when you still weren’t even sure if you were leaving or not, but you had your dagger. Luke didn’t have his sword, but you had been practicing.
It wasn’t like it really mattered, anyways—he probably just wanted to make out with you. It was far from the first time, and for all he knew you were leaving for the school year in a few hours.
He chuckled but didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, a slight frown creasing your brows, and nudged him with your shoulder.
“Is everything okay, Luke?” you asked. “You’ve been… oddly quiet.”
Again, it took him a moment to respond before he just shrugged. “I’ve been thinking, I guess.”
“About what?”
“Life,” he said. “Our lives.”
“Very philosophical for the hour,” you said dryly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah,” Luke nodded, “yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“Have you ever thought about leaving?”
“I’m still deciding whether I want to go back home for school or not, but—”
“Not after the summer,” Luke interrupted. “Leaving camp. For good.”
You frowned, a chill running down your spine. “Of course not. Camp Halfblood saved my life, Luke. I could never leave.”
“Says who?” Luke stopped and your intertwined hands pulled you back, stopping you as well.
“Says all the monsters that tried to kill me last time I went home,” you said slowly. “Don’t tell me you forgot the dracaena that nearly got me on that field trip.”
“‘Course I didn’t forget,” he said, inclining his head. “I just think you’re good enough now to make it without this place.”
“Luke,” you said with a strained laugh, “you— you can’t be serious.”
He shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because if we leave, we’ll die,” you said slowly. “I barely made it on my own out there.”
“You’re more powerful now. And you won’t be on your own,” he said, tugging you closer. Despite it all, warmth bloomed in your chest. “I can protect you.”
“Luke…” You trailed off as he cupped your cheek with his other hand, bringing your gaze back to his.
“What’s the point of staying here?” Luke murmured, an unmistakable softness in his eyes. “Just so we can sit around at summer camp for the rest of our lives? I mean, it’s not like that’s gonna be much longer, the way Chiron tells it.”
“I ha— we have friends here,” you said, huffing another laugh as you took a step back from him. It was easier to think when he wasn’t touching you, when you were still able to sever the string connecting the two of you. “We have a life here. A safe life, Luke, where we don’t have to look over our shoulders constantly.”
“Not me.” Luke shook his head as he moved a step forward in tandem, and he took your hand again, his grip tighter this time. “You’re the only thing I’ve got keeping me here.”
“Please,” you said in disbelief. “You’ve got a whole cabin of siblings that adore you. You’re the best swordfighter here. I’m pretty sure even Mr. D has a soft spot for you.”
“Please,” he mocked, “you can’t seriously believe that.”
You shrugged. “All I know is that when you finally asked me out, I gained a whole lot of enemies.”
“Like that means anything,” Luke said.
“The kids love you too!” you exclaimed. “Their eyes light up with stars whenever you help them with their sparring. You’re a beacon of light to this place— where is all of this coming from?”
“I’m tired,” Luke said roughly. “Tired of the gods ignoring us when all they’ve caused is pain.”
You frowned, but he continued on.
“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed it?” he asked. “When’s the last time you ever saw my dad give me any kind of attention besides some fun-colored smoke? He ruined my mother’s life— he ruined my life! And our cabin is damn near overflowing with unclaimed kids. Where are their parents?
“Luke—”
He shook his head as he forged on. “And you can’t say that Demeter is any good either. I bet she makes your cereal tastes real good in the morning, but she’s abandoned you for your whole life.”
“Luke, where is this coming from?” you asked, your frown deepening further and further as you let go of his hand and took a step back. “You— you know I’m not a fan of them, but you can’t just go around saying things like this. The last thing I need is for my mother to— to smite me, or strangle me with vines or something because I’m not appreciating her enough.”
Luke huffed a laugh. “That would be the most attention she’s paid to you since she claimed you.”
“She’s a goddess,” you said. “She’s got more important things to do than send me emails asking how my day is going.”
“Really?” Luke asked, his eyebrows rising.
“Yes, really,” you enunciated. “I expect it. I consider myself lucky she claimed me at all.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” he marveled as he said your name. “Your mother has never been there for you, and you think you’re lucky?”
“Luke—” you started, but you couldn’t even finish as he continued on.
“Demeter wasn’t there for the year you spent feeling like the scum of the Earth because you hadn’t been claimed yet. Demeter wasn’t there for the childhood she gifted to you then abandoned you for.” He pushed forward still. “Demeter wasn’t there for all those sleepless nights you spent in the Hermes cabin wondering if you were ever going to know who got you into this mess.”
“Luke, stop,” you finally managed to get out, moving back in turn.
“You know who was?” He continued to forge on, capturing your wrist when you tried to take another step back, eliciting a shaky exhale as you flinched. “Me.”
You ripped your arm away from him, fire in your eyes and blazing in your blood. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”
“I’ve been here for you since the moment you stepped foot into Cabin Eleven!” Luke’s voice rose, and you’d never been more aware of the dagger hanging off your belt. “Through every tear, every tirade, every godsdamned rant about the gods—”
You stumbled back, and your heart stuttered in your chest as your back hit a tree. Your jaw was clenched, attempting to stop your tremors trying to wrack your body.
“And you’re telling me,” his voice suddenly lowered until it was scarily soft, little more than a whisper as he leaned over you, noses nearly touching, “that you would still choose them over me?”
“If you do not get away from me right now,” you said, quiet and even, “what we have, and anything we could have, will be over.”
Luke didn’t move. “Answer me.”
For a moment, it was just that—you and Luke staring at each other. His chest rising and falling just so from the effort of yelling, his beautiful eyes devoid of any previous softness. You thought your teeth might crack with the pressure in your jaw.
“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t choose them over you.”
And for an even shorter moment, his eyes do soften.
“But I won’t leave my family,” you whispered. “Not for whatever cause you think you’re fighting for.”
And just like that, the armor went up again.
“So that’s the way this ends,” Luke said evenly, and when he moved a few steps back, you felt like you could finally breathe again.
“You know who I am,” you argued, though you couldn’t make yourself move. “My siblings are my family— my friends are my family. I’d never leave them.”
“Oh, I should have expected it,” he said offhandedly. His laughter was a cruel thing. “I always knew you were a coward.”
“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” you spat. “Why do you even want to leave in the first place?”
“Because I’m sick and tired of all the bullshit that goes on here!” Luke yelled. “We’ve been here for years, and what the hell do we have to show for it? A couple scars? A lot of near death experiences? Some deadbeat parents that ruined our damned lives?”
“I have a family that I never could’ve dreamed of!” you exclaimed. “I have sisters and brothers that love me, friends that understand me, and—”
Your voice broke for a moment and you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the tears back. Some of the fire burning through your veins had been extinguished as you continued.
“And I thought I had a boyfriend that was there for me.”
It was there again—his eyes softening ever so slightly when he looked at you. But then he clenched his jaw. “And I thought I had a girlfriend that was there for me.”
“I won’t leave,” you enunciated. “I’m not going to help you with whatever crusade you think you’re meant to lead against the gods!”
“You don’t understand,” he insisted.
“You don’t understand!” you exclaimed. “You’re ready to leave all of this behind, and for what?”
“I don’t want to leave it all behind,” he said. “I want you by my side. We could be something truly great together— can’t you see?”
Luke took your hand again and pulled you away from the tree, gesturing with his hand around you. “You can control all of this. The whole world is your domain—we’d be untouchable.”
“Luke, you sound crazy,” you said roughly. “Where is all of this coming from, seriously?”
“I just know that we can live a better life,” he said. “Together, without the gods.”
“Witho—” You couldn’t even manage to finish the word, shaking your head at the pure absurdity of it. You hardly recognized your boyfriend purely because of the insanity he was spouting. “Luke, we don’t need to leave! We don’t need to stand against the gods, or— or whatever this is!”
This time, you took his hand as you tried to smile. “We can make this work, Luke, and we can make it work here,” you begged. “I promise.”
“Things need to change,” he said, voice steely, pulling his hand away. “And they’re clearly not going to change here.”
“Yes, they can,” you insisted, your hands clenching into fists at your side. “I want things to change too, believe me! But going off on your own isn’t going to do anything for it. We can start it here—together.”
His eyes were colder than ever as he looked down on you, and you truly didn’t recognize him. The glint in his eye and edges you would cut yourself on and the insanity he was spouting for no damn reason. You didn’t know what in Hades’ name had gotten into him.
“All we do is sit around and wait for that hag in the attic to spout prophecies, and then Chiron sends some kids off to die, and then we sit around and wait to do it again,” Luke said. “The gods keep making kids and the kids keep dying because they leave them in the world alone— we’re practically grandparents here because we’re lucky to make it past sixteen! The gods don’t do a damn thing about it, and neither does Chiron.”
He shook his head as he stared right into your eyes. “You’re not as smart as I thought if you think you can change anything here.”
“So— so what?” you asked brazenly. “You’re just gonna leave?”
Luke shrugged. “I was always gonna leave. It just depended whether you were with me or not.”
He turned around and started walking, and for a moment you were fully dumbstruck, unable to move. Then something snapped inside of you, and you moved your hands straight up through the air. Vines sprouted from the ground and tangled around Luke’s legs, stopping him and nearly causing him to fall.
“You don’t just get to walk away from me after spouting this bullshit,” you fumed as you ran to catch up with him. “What in Demeter’s name has gotten into you, Luke? Gods— this isn’t you!”
“See?” Luke smiled, ignoring your question. “You are powerful.”
“Answer me,” you seethed.
He shrugged, that small smile still on his lips. “It’s always been me. Maybe you’ve just been too stupid to realize.”
“Where are you going to go?” you asked, ignoring his jab. “Not home, clearly.”
It was a deep cut, something you never would have said under normal circumstances, but his expression didn’t change.
“I’ve got plans,” he said, ignoring your jab, and he huffed a laugh. “And I guess they don’t involve you anymore.”
All you could do was stand there, stunned as you stared at him. It was cliche, but it really wasn’t him, because you loved Luke and he loved you.
He’d always been a bit spitfire, always a little sharp around the edges, but you loved that about him—and he softened those edges for you. He was strong-willed and caring and passionate about everything, and you didn’t want to lose him. Not like this.
You knew what he’d been through. You knew what happened to his mother, what happened to Thalia, everyone he’d lost and every reason for every scar. But you never thought—
Gods. You never thought he’d actually do… this.
“Let me go, will ya?” Luke asked, tilting his head. “Or else what we have will be over— or whatever it was you said back there.”
The vines receded against your will, like his words just connected to your subconscious. You stayed rooted in place as he continued walking away.
But then he stopped. Turned around, looked right at you.
And for a moment you were fourteen again, feeling alone and forgotten going into your third month in the Hermes cabin. Grumbling your way through sword practice because the excited camp counselor who just happened to be your age refused to let you sulk for another day.
It was days after your fifteenth birthday, and the golden sickle with sheaths of wheat had finally appeared over your head at lunch. Luke had lunged at you, wrapping you in the tightest hug possible, and looked at you with all the stars in your eyes as he congratulated you. He helped you move your meager belongings into the Demeter cabin the very next day.
It was the first time you decided to go home since arriving at camp, and Luke was sidled outside your door, making wry comments every so often as he kept you company while you packed.
It was him kissing you right before you went over the hill because he said he couldn’t keep his feelings in any longer. It was you kissing him right back wondering why he waited so damn long.
It was three years of the best thing you’d ever experienced, of the most steadfast companion you could’ve had by your side—three years of Luke Castellan’s love.
Then you blinked, and you were back in the woods. Luke’s expression had softened, but the brimming tears in your eyes blurred your vision.
“I really did love you, y’know,” Luke finally murmured. “But you should know that love isn’t ever enough.”
He was out of your view before you could even muster the strength to move again, and then you were running through the forest faster than ever before.
But when you reached Cabin Eleven, there was no sign of him. And when you checked the pavilion and the forge and the amphitheater and the training arena and every other godsdamned place, you were just as disappointed.
But by the time you got to Chiron and found out the chaos that had spouted in his wake, that he had wanted you to be a part of, it was much, much too late.
Percy Jackson was fighting for his life. Camp had been left in complete disarray. Luke was working for Kronos.
And the man you loved was truly gone.
#this is especially funny to me bc luke is all for kronos but kronos literally ate her mom#couple goals!!#also she spent like 30 minutes looking for him after which is plentyyy of time for him to try and kill percy#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan fic#luke castellan angst#pjo x reader#x reader#sadie writes
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A Night To Forget (Leah Williamson x reader)
A/N: What a shit show that game was. What were they doing? They do know it was a must win in the title race right?
The tackle in this fic was based off this video.
Leah knew that she played a big part in Arsenal’s shocking performance. Never did she think she would let her frustrations take over in the way that they did.
You were having a near perfect game with scoring the opener and assisting the other two goals. Arsenal were playing into your hands and they were making it easy for you to dance around the pitch.
It was near the end of the game when the away team was beginning to get sloppy with their tackles.
Erin had played you a lovely through ball and you were off. You saw Leah running at you but even she knew she wouldn’t be able to match your pace if you got free. It’s what lead her to doing what she did.
As she stuck her foot in she missed the ball completely and her studs connected with the inside of your knee. You were on the floor in agony within seconds.
“What was that!” Erin shoves Leah backwards, far away from you.
“I didn’t—it was an accident”
“Bullshit” the Scottish woman was furious.
Meanwhile you laid on the floor clutching your knee. You didn’t hear a pop but you can’t lie and say the three letters weren’t floating around in your head.
“Speak to us Y/N” one of the physios told you.
“ACL?” It was a question that you dreaded the answer to.
Leah heard you say the three letters and she thought that meant that was the diagnosis and it made her feel sick. The referee had given her the red card but she refused to leave the pitch, not until you had.
“I didn’t mean to Lia” your girlfriend tried to get closer to you but this time it was her team mate who pulled her back.
“Give her space” Wally hated to admit it but the tackle was bad and she wasn’t sure what your reaction would be to seeing the blonde.
The physios removed your hand from your knee so they could access the injury. When you saw your hand it was covered in blood. Clearly the studs have cut you and from the amount of blood it must have been bad.
“We don’t think it’s your ACL. We need to stitch you up so you obviously can’t continue”
“I’m not getting on a stretcher, no way”
The two physios look at each other, shake their heads and laugh a little. They knew full well that you wouldn’t get on a stretcher if you could walk.
“We know but you will let us help you” you nod your head. Guro, who remained by your side, helped you up and took the place of one of the physios.
You see Leah and it’s enough to make your blood boil.
“Y/N. I didn’t—“
“Stay away from me Williamson” it was as impersonal as it could be and you meant every word. Leah was the last person you want to see right now.
“Please I—“
Again she was cut off but this time by the Norwegian.
“No! You heard her. Stay away”
Leah stopped in her tracks. You never let anyone talk to her like that. That is until this moment.
Millie was waiting for you at the sidelines and the look she gave Leah was one of disappointment. Never in her mind would your girlfriend do anything like this to you. She was your biggest protector but tonight it was her you needed protecting from.
The full time whistle is blown and the member of staff that had been sat with Leah tells her she can go back out. She lingers at the door to the Chelsea locker room where she he hears you laughing with Sam, Millie and Guro who must have been subbed off. She is in two minds whether or not to knock. She knew she wanted to see you but did you want to see her? If your previous reaction was any indication then the answer was no.
Leah was doing her lap and was just near the end of the away stand when she heard the stadium break out into cheers. When she looked around to see what was the cause was, she saw you. She saw you walking near the home bench wearing a black compression sleeve and a matching knee brace. Millie was carrying a pair of crutches but laid them on the bench.
You were injured. Leah didn’t know what the damage was but she knew that you were hurt. She also knew by the looks on your friends’ face that she wouldn’t get close to you right now.
It was a hard thing to process for you. You tried to masque your hurt with a grin but it wasn’t very believable. You wanted to celebrate with your team, this win was huge, but your mind was elsewhere.
“She didn’t mean to” Sam, of all people, came to Leah’s defence.
“And that means I can’t be mad? You saw the replays, she could have ended by career with that tackle” you didn’t know what to feel, you didn’t know how you should feel.
“But she didn’t”
“Why are you defending her!” You covered your mouth in case a microphone and camera on you.
“Because no one else will and you know it” Sam really was trying to do the right thing but maybe it was wrong of her.
“Well then she shouldn’t have done it” your response was scarily calm.
The girls in red stayed clear of you and rightly so. It was only Alessia that was brave enough to come to you.
“You’re very annoying to play against. Good game tonight, you deserved to win this one” her genuine words earned her a smile.
“Thanks Less” you pulled her in for a quick hug as you walked down the tunnel together.
“Is it bad?” She wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer “Leah was asking about you”
“Well you can tell Leah that I don’t know the severity of the injury she caused”
“But it’s not, you know….” the forward daren’t speak the words that had now rivalled the Macbeth superstition.
“No. I needed stitches and the brace is because the two cuts are on the joint. It’s so I don’t reopen them”
Leah looked up at the sound of Alessia entering the locker room. She saw you through the gap, immediately stood up and started walking towards you.
“Y/N” she begs you to look at her.
“Thanks for checking in Less. I’ll see you at home” you didn’t address Leah but you did look at her. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing though because there was a numbness in your gaze.
She waited and waited in your shared apartment. Hours passed and she was close to giving up, she thought that you must have changed your mind. Could she have blamed you if you had?
Leah blew out the candle, your favourite one, and turned off the lamp. Just as she got into bed she heard the front door open and close. She was on her feet in a flash and running towards you.
“Y/N. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry”
“What were you thinking? It was sloppy, dangerous and unnecessary”
“I needed to stop you. I hadn’t been able to stop you all game”
That was her defence and you found it pathetic.
“You played terribly Leah. I won’t stand here and sugarcoat things. You made mistakes but this wasn’t one of them. You knew exactly what you were doing when you came flying in”
“I didn’t. I swear I didn’t. I—” Leah pauses for a moment. She didn’t mean to hurt you but she also couldn’t know for sure if her subconscious wanted to stop you by any means.
“You didn’t mean to hurt me but you knew the tackle was reckless and it could end badly yet you did it anyway”
When you put it that way Leah found herself agreeing with you.
“I love you Leah but I have every right to be mad at you. You can’t dismiss my feelings“
That wasn’t Leah’s intention but she knew that was what she was doing.
“I’m not. I mean I won’t. Do you want space from me? I can sleep on the sofa or even go to one of the girls’ houses” Leah was ready to give you your space if that is what you wanted.
“No, I don’t want that. I just want to be mad for a little bit but I can do that with you in bed beside me”
Leah found herself smiling. She was in trouble, big trouble, but you were going to forgive her.
“Don’t be surprised if I punch you in my sleep. Dream me might want revenge. Now carry me to bed. I don’t know how you put up with this thing. It’s so annoying”
Just when Leah began to forget about what happened, you remind her. To be fair the black brace was very bulky and hard to ignore.
“How bad is it Y/N? Tell me the truth, please” Leah carried you bridal style whilst waiting for the verdict.
“8 stitches and I have to wear the brace while they heal” you told her everything that you knew.
Leah laid you down gently on the bed and her fingers lingered on the velcro of the brace. You knew what she was asking without her having to open her mouth. You lean forward and undo the straps. Gently you pull the compression sleeve down, revealing the ugliness of the injury.
Your girlfriend gasps and takes a step back. She hurt you, she hurt you really bad. When you first started dating she made a promise to never be the reason for your pain, only for your happiness. She broke that promise tonight at Stamford bridge.
“I have a hospital appointment for scans tomorrow morning. They don’t think there’s any serious damage”
“I’ll take you” Leah tells you.
“Damn right you will Williamson. I am clearly in no shape to drive”
“Please don’t call me that” you could have sworn you saw Leah shrink in size “Call me Leah if you have to, but not Williamson”
Here’s the thing. Leah loved nicknames and you called her plenty of them. Each had a different meaning and you used them in different scenarios. It’s why this struck her so deeply.
“Leah” you wait until she is looking at you “come to bed”
The blonde does as told but she does it goes so gingerly. You were fragile in her eyes and no way was she going to hurt you more.
That night the two of the slept poorly. That is until you pull Leah into your arms. You tried your best to forget about the incident because you knew Leah blamed herself for the loss. In this specific moment she simply needed to be held by her girlfriend.
#woso x reader#woso one shot#woso imagine#Leah Williamson x reader#Leah Williamson one shot#Leah Williamson imagine#awfc x reader#awfc one shot#awfc imagine#engwnt x reader#engwnt one shot#engwnt imagine
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“I GET LOST INSIDE ALL THE STARS IN YOUR EYES, IT’S A GALAXY.” ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, nikolai, sigma
— how do the bsd men kiss you? (& other things.)
a/n. rev writes this knowing well she’s awkward w physical touch ‘n has never kissed a guy. hdjshsh.
info. fem!reader. fluff !! + a bit sugg. established relationships. kissing, making out. mentions of bsd s5ep11 spoilers for dazai. pinch of angst if you squint.
DAZAI loves to listen to you ramble. he loves listening to you pour out your mind’s lively ideas to him out loud, whether it’d be something super philosophical that could match even his intellect, or something insignificant like the tv show you were watching last night before you fell asleep, waiting for him to come home. he is fascinated by anything and everything you say—so much, he wants to shroud the part of your body that speaks with love.
Which, of course, applied when Dazai finally returned to you from Meursault, after what had seemed like himself or you trying to cross the infinite sea of time.
You ran towards Dazai, his face clear and unhidden from the full moon’s light. He stood there with the biggest smile on his face, waiting for you to wrap your arms around his neck and envelope his taller figure in your embrace, but oh, he shouldn’t assume and expect loving gestures so quickly.
Instead, he was met with a fist to his chest, a punch with quite some power packed into it. Not enough to actually hurt him, of course, but Dazai would react dramatically either way.
“O-Ow! Bella!? What was that for?”
He looked down at you, catching an emotion as intense as fire in your eyes as you met his concerned, honey-dipped ones back, realizing you were being serious. Your fist was still connected to his upper body, and he stole a quick glance to observe your state—good, she’s been taking care of herself; she hasn’t skipped her meals—before meeting your face once again.
You let him bathe in a few moments of anxious silence before you finally started shouting.
“You didn’t even warn me!”
“I had no idea where you were!”
“Do you know how scared I felt?!”
Dazai continued to stand in place, not backing away when you continued to throw feeble punches at his torso with every frustration you cried out, when tears started to fall from your eyes, and when you stopped boxing him to surrender into his chest but not holding your tongue just yet.
“You’re so stupid and insane for this one, Osamu. Prison?! And you couldn’t even get a telephone to…yknow? Call me? Talk to me? I hate y—”
“Shh.”
Dazai had cupped your face, and before you could speak anymore, he sealed his lips over yours. Immediately, you kissed him back, abandoning all anger toward him by his action.
His eyes were half-lidded as he admired how yours looked in the silver moonlight. Up close, you were encompassed in his signature smell of green tea and a hint of mint, tempting you to keep him close to you even more.
“I…missed you so much, ‘samu” you said in between kisses.
“I’ve missed you even more.” You were lifted off of your feet, legs wrapped around his waist, as Dazai continued to press his mouth onto yours. He meant what he said—he savored the feeling of your warmth on him and the taste of your lips once again after not having it for so long. And robbing you of the same bliss along with it.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll make everything up to you, love,” he whispered as your hands found their way to sift through his soft, brunette hair. “I’ll kiss you as many times as you wish.”
“I’m sure you will even when I don’t wish,” you replied as you both pulled away for air, chuckling. “You’re not sly—we both know you kiss me to shut me up.”
“And I don’t see a problem with it?” he asked, his usual smug smile returning to his face before he gently peppered your forehead next.
“No. No, I don’t either.”
CHUUYA loves to spoil you. the top mafia executive spoils you with gifts, jewelry, accessories, breakfast…lunch…dinner, you name it. he also loves to spoil you with affection. after long days at work, he is always relieved to come home to the one good and comforting person in the world.
“Welcome home, Chuuya!” you greeted as you heard the front door open, the ginger-haired entering the house.
“Whatever you’re making smells delicious, doll,” he responded in a delightful tone, probably the first time he spoke so pleasantly all day.
You smiled. “I just finished making dinner.”
He walked toward you in the kitchen, pulling you into a hug.
“What’s up?” you replied, giggling at embrace as you wrapped your arms around him in return.
“Just missed you, that’s all,” Chuuya replied. “ You’re heaven-sent, yknow.”
You felt touched by his words. “I missed you too, Chuu,” you replied. “And I’m glad you feel that way. You deserve the best, and that’s what I’m trying to be.”
“Doll, you are the best. And you deserve the best,” he responded.
“Like this.” He gently lifted the custom necklace clasped around you. It was his present for one of your anniversaries, brought from some foreign country.
“But you deserve even more than material things.” He moved hair out of your face as he looked into your eyes.
He then moved closer to your face until his lips brushed over yours, and you could feel the warmth of his face.
“Something like this,” he said and then kissed you.
Luxurious as he was, his cologne smelled the same, completely engulfing you in his world. Chuuya showed you just how much you deserved by trailing his hands down to your waist, soothingly adoring every part. Meanwhile, his cerulean eyes gazed into yours, recording how pretty you looked to save in his mind.
“You’re so beautiful, doll.”
He felt you smile against his lips. “And you’re so handsome.” You broke away and then took the hat off of Chuuya’s head.
“You’re like…the person who can pull off the fedora the best.” You placed the hat on your head, his scent even more prominent on that accessory.
“You say that, yet I think I have competition now. Y’look cute with it on too.” Chuuya smiled, approving you with his signature hat.
You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Let’s eat now before the food gets cold.”
RANPO was very high-maintenance. you had to buy him snacks, you had to give him hugs, you had to do anything in the best wishes of the world’s greatest detective or else…he’d whine. and once he started complaining, he would not back down until you gave in. yet, however childish he was, you found him cute and didn’t love ranpo any less for his call of your affection.
“Ranpo! What do you need?”
Your boyfriend had run into the bathroom where you were trying to do your makeup, currently putting lipstick on your face.
“ ‘m really hungry,” he said, obnoxiously staring at you apply the red shade to your lips.
“Hungry? Oh, the snacks are in the pantry. I thought you’d already seen them?”
“No! I don’t want them!”
“Huh?” You paused and immediately turned toward him in utter disbelief that he had just declined his favorite food.
“Are you okay, Ranpo?”
“No!” He was unanticipatedly so loud that you flinched, accidentally running the lipstick off your mouth.
“…You’re not looking for snacks?”
“No!”
“Then what do you want?!”
“You!”
There was an awkward silence, and you noticed Ranpo’s face had gone entirely the shade of your lip as he stood, pouting.
It was apparent he was embarrassed for what he just blurted out. You almost wanted to laugh.
“You could’ve just asked me!” you replied with a chuckle in your voice. “Come here.”
Ranpo trodded toward you, still visibly frustrated.
“What do you want?” you asked.
“Well, first of all, you didn’t kiss me before I left for work this morning!”
You sighed, amused that he was whining so much because of that. And how he would never directly admit what he wanted from you—always making you have to solve puzzles and guess riddles to figure him out.
But it was also incredibly endearing how Ranpo took all your affections toward him to heart, no matter how big or small they were.
“Awh, I’m sorry I missed that,” you replied. “I’ll make that up to you.”
You kissed Ranpo’s cheek, stamping a red signature on the spot. You moved to his other cheek, and then his forehead, and then everywhere in between until he was covered in your smooches.
“Look!” you turned Ranpo toward the mirror for him to see what art you’ve created on him.
“You’re forgetting one place,” he said, turning his face to look at all angles.
“Really? Where?” you asked. He surely didn’t need anymore—his whole face showed proof you touched him everywhere with your lips.
“Here stupid, duuuuh,” he responded, kissing you on the lips. He moved your back to the edge of the sink counter, and then lifted you up to sit on it.
“Hungry, are you?” you giggled as he teased you with his tongue. “I avoided that spot on purpose, stupid.”
“Who are you calling stupid, stupid?” He ran his thumb over the stain your lipstick messed up on. You could feel him smirk.
“You, stupid! It was your fault after all. And look at your face!”
“Sweetheart, if you’re calling me stupid, you are too. One, you’re just stupid, and two, you’re stupid for being with me!”
You pulled back, laughing. “If I must be stupid to be with you, then I guess I’m stupid.”
“There’s a solution! If you call me smart, it’ll make you smart.”
“Fine, Ranpo. You’re the smartest person I know in this world.”
NIKOLAI loves surprising you. he finds your sudden reactions nothing short of adorable. which is why he caught you off-guard so much, so that he could see the cute responses you made, duh? widened eyes, mini jumps, and yelps were a few things he oddly took delight in.
Which is why the jester loves to surprise you with a kiss whenever he greets you. Though, whenever he does, you receive no warning. And you never know whether he wants to give you a simple peck on the lips or a full-on makeout session. It was expected to always be unexpected.
You were walking down the hallway to your room with a basket of clean laundry when you suddenly heard the all-too-familiar cheery, charismatic voice.
“Dove being productive, hm?” he chirped.
You scanned the entire room with your eyes, but you couldn’t see Nikolai anywhere, even though there was nowhere to hide.
“Kolya?”
“Hehe…I think it’s time for a quiz time!! Where am I?
“Am I here?” You heard a swift movement to the right of you, but as you turned, nothing was there.
“Orrr, here?” Now, you felt something brush your left side, but once again, when you turned to look, you were greeted only by Casper.
“How about here?” His voice was suddenly quieter but closer, more intimate.
You felt his frame against your back.
“Kolya!” you jolted in reflex, dropping the laundry basket—not expecting Nikolai to appear right behind you—but then, he surprised you even more by turning your face to the side and crashing his lips into yours.
He was so tall that he could easily lean over you to kiss you from behind your back.
You made a muffled squeal, and in the next moment, Nikolai had you against the wall with your hands above your head.
He stared at you as if nothing else in the world mattered because he already knew the reaction he would get out of you. You felt so shy and vulnerable under his complete gaze, but Nikolai was also mean—he didn’t allow you to move an inch to save face.
He wanted to enjoy the full show.
“H-hey! You can at least blink…” you blurted out when he finally let your face go, though he immediately grabbed you again seconds after.
“Hm? What’d you say, dove?” he asked, kissing you again. Your cheeks were flushed, and your lips were so soft and tasted like candy—how could he not be greedy for more?
“You’re so cute, baby!” he exclaimed when he finally pulled back. You were panting—Nikolai showed no mercy when he wanted you to himself.
But you still smiled in return when he gently bopped you on the nose with his mouth, a stark contrast to what he just did.
“Ah, did I get carried away?” He only then noticed you out of breath. “Sorry, I just missed you so much!”
“It’s alright,” you replied, hugging him, the scent of strawberry cake lingering on his body. “Though, whatever happened to a hi; hello?”
“You’ll never get anything boring from me, dove,” Nikolai giggled. “That’s one thing I’m certain of.”
SIGMA treats you like the most precious thing in the world, a princess. you need your shoes tied? oh, he’s on the floor with the laces. you need to go somewhere? he’s driving you there. you want to visit the sky casino? he would rig all the games so that you’d win every time. sigma is sweet and polite—he would always make sure you are fine with something before going ahead with it.
“How about here? I think this is a nice spot.”
“Okay! Let’s set our stuff here then.”
You and Sigma set down everything you brought for your evening picnic on the hills. The spot he had pointed out was directly in front of the sun setting behind the mountains, its golden glow bathing the earth in the day’s final hour of light.
Once all the food was organized on the blanket, you took out a couple of ribbons from your pocket.
“Do you want me to help you?” Sigma asked as you tried to figure out where to put them in your already-styled hair without a mirror. He noticed your struggle.
“Oh! Sure,” you replied with a shy smile, and immediately after, he was behind you, taking the braids in your hair and tying the ribbons onto those.
“Thank you,” you replied when he was done, and when Sigma stepped back, he smiled in admiration.
“Of course.” He took your hand as you both sat beside each other.
“It’s so pretty here.” You turned to face the mountains, the sun halfway below the horizon. “You were right; this is the perfect spot!”
You looked back at Sigma, but it seemed like he paid no attention to the view at all. His eyes were only on you.
“…Sigma?”
“Y-you look really pretty,” he said, eyes not leaving once you made eye contact with him.
“…Can I kiss you?”
Immediately, you felt your heart melt because your lover was so innocent and lovely. You had been together for months, yet he was still asking for permission to kiss you.
“Of course, Sigma! We’re literally dating, you can kiss me whenever you want.”
“O-okay!” You giggled at his smitten reaction.
You closed your eyes and puckered your lips in a dramatic act of preparation.
It seemed you had been mistaken, though. Because, he had kissed you on the forehead.
“O-Ohh—oops, I thought you meant-”
But then, Sigma’s lips were over yours. His hand that wasn’t holding yours gently guided your face towards his. His touches were all tender, expressing how much he adored you.
You wrapped your own free hand around his neck, pulling him closer. You opened your eyes slightly to take a peek, seeing his own were fluttered closed under such pretty eyelashes, and his expression content, basking in your comfort.
It was as if you and him finally breaking away was the moon’s cue to rise. The sun had set entirely by the time you were done, shades of warm-toned colored clouds left as a trail.
“That was sneaky of you, Sigma,” you laughed, cheeks warm and your head a bit hazy from how everything in the setting was so dreamy. “You tricked me by going for my forehead first.”
“I wasn’t going to kiss you straight-up like that! It was intimidating, you just waiting!”
You laughed some more, seeing his own cheeks tint a light shade of pink. “Come on, let’s eat.”
if u rb this post, i heard that ur fav will kiss u tn! reblogs are cherished; they support me as a creator. <3
© aureatchi 2023. no reposts or translations. do not steal.
#₊ ⊹˚✉︎𑁤 with love; reverie#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x you#bsd scenarios#bsd drabbles#bsd headcanons#bsd imagines#bsd fluff#dazai x reader#dazai fluff#dazai osamu#bsd dazai#chuuya x reader#chuuya fluff#chuuya nakahara#bsd chuuya#ranpo x reader#ranpo fluff#ranpo edogawa#bsd ranpo#nikolai x reader#nikolai fluff#nikolai gogol#sigma x reader#sigma fluff#bsd sigma#aureatchi
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How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺
I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂
Sick Day
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.
Word Count: Over 2.4k
Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.
You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.
Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.
“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.
“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”
You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.
He had nothing to worry about though.
“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.
Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.
A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.
“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”
You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”
“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.
“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”
Why is he getting himself worked up?
“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”
It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.
“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”
“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”
“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.
Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.
He didn’t need your tears on top of that.
But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”
God, I love this man.
“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.
Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.
“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”
Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.
“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”
“We'll watch whatever you want.”
You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”
“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”
You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”
With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”
You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.
Which was exactly why he called you down there.
“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”
“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.
You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.
“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”
You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”
He also had a cold.
Oh, no.
“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.
“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”
Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.
“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”
Oh, Bucky.
You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.
“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”
Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.
Maybe both.
But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.
When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.
“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”
You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.
And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.
“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”
“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”
“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.
Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.
Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.
Oops.
“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”
“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.
Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.
You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”
He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.
“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”
Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”
True.
“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”
Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.
And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.
Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky fic#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x you
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Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…
warnings: jelousy
a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request
It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...
and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face one... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.
But it still wasn't hate
Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits
And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?
"You're staring"
Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you
"I just don't get why he's here"
You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"
"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,
"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"
Yeah right
He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.
You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen
he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,
and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.
"I saw him look at you before"
This time, you did let out a little snort
"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"
But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you
"I'm sorry to interrupt-"
Then fucking don't
"I just wanted to introduce myself"
Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior
"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy
"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"
As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists
This fucking guy-
"Hi pal"
Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off
"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"
The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea
"Oh, I didn't know you were married"
Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room
Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,
How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?
It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious
"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"
"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him
"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"
Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye
"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"
Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it
He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement
"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"
Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly
"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"
"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder
You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place
"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement
"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""
Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head
"listen, man-"
"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"
Shawn let out a loud breath before responding
"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"
"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"
You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time
"that was a bit harsh"
Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist
"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked
Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength
"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck
"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal blurb#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal x fem reader#pedro pascal one shot#pedro pascal x fem!reader#Pedro Pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal imagine#dad!pedro pascal#the last of us#joel miller#tlou#the mandalorian#javier peña#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#fluff#daddy pascal#pedrohub#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#pedrito#pedro pascal x gn reader
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The Better, Hidden Half
Requested Here!
Part 2 Here >
Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)
Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.
Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?
A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍
Word Count: 3.9k+ words
Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.
✯✯✯✯✯
“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.
Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”
Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”
Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”
Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.
“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.
“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”
“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”
“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”
They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.
✯✯✯✯✯
7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.
Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.
As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.
✯✯✯✯✯
Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.
Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.
“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.
“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.
“Yes. What’s going on?”
“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”
“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”
“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”
“I love you.”
Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible address in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.
“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.
“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.
“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”
“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.
“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”
“And what bag is that?”
“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”
“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”
“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”
Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’
“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.
“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”
Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.
“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.
“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.
The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.
“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.
Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”
Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”
“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”
“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”
“Tim-“
“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”
Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.
“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”
As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.
✯✯✯✯✯
While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.
“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.
“Did you get any blood on you?”
“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”
“Smart man.”
Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.
“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.
“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.
“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”
“Can you describe his condition?”
“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”
“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.
“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”
Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”
“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”
Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”
“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”
“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.
“Yes, I do.”
“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”
“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.
Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.
“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.
“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.
“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”
Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.
✯✯✯✯✯
Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.
Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”
While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.
✯✯✯✯✯
Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.
He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”
“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.
“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"
"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”
Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”
“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“
“Don’t think like that. It’s-“
“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”
“What are you saying?”
Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”
“Anything.”
“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”
“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.
Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.
“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”
“You’ve never mentioned her.”
“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”
“I get that. What’s she like?”
Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”
“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”
“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.
“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”
“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.
“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.
Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.
“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”
Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”
Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.
“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”
“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”
Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.
✯✯✯✯✯
When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.
“He’s okay,” Angela begins.
You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”
“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”
“Who did?”
“His rookie.”
Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.
“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.
“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.
“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”
“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.
“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”
“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.
“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.
“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.
Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.
“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.
Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.
✯✯✯✯✯
“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.
“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.
You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”
Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”
You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.
“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.
In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.
Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.
Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.
Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.
“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”
“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.
“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.
✯✯✯✯✯
“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.
“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.
“Where is he?”
She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.
“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.
You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.
“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.
Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”
✯✯✯✯✯
When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.
“I’m sorry,” he begins.
“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”
Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”
You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”
“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”
Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”
Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.
“I love you,” Tim says.
“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”
“Ready to meet the rest of my-“
“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.
“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.
“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”
“How clean is the house?”
You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.
“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”
“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”
You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”
Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.
#tim bradford x reader#tim bradford x you#tim bradford imagine#tim bradford fluff#tim bradford the rookie#tim bradford#the rookie#requests#fem!reader
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Hi, I've just discovered your page, and I love all your stories, Especially the Alastor x Readers. So, I was just wondering if you could do an Alastor x Fem Reader, like how would he react to his doe announcing being pregnant/ How would he be as a dad? Also the same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?
Family Man
Alastor x GN!Reader, Lucifer x GN! Reader
A/N: Hihi! Thank you so much for requesting friend! I made this more into a headcanon/fic thing! Thank you for your kind words, friend!
TW:Pregnancy, anxiety that comes with that topic, Alastor being Alastor
Alastor:
-🦌 First off when you told him, he was silent for a very very long time. I’m talking full on deer in headlights moment, he stayed like that for an hour. Your poor husband was confused and his brain had to reboot.
-🦌 Once he gets out of his funk, he’s going to ask you if your okay with that and if having a family is what you want. Don’t get me wrong, he’s excited but he’s also extremely nervous. He never thought of himself as a family man.
-🦌 It’s not that he hates kids or children in general he just never saw the interest in them. Little tiny humans running around just didn’t appeal to him, he also didn’t have time when he was alive. Ya know between killing and running his radio show.
-🦌 But once he makes sure it’s what you wanted? He’s going all out, I’m talking about getting everything from a bigger room in the hotel to little baby clothes (he acts like he’s uninterested but by Lucifer you catch his eyes lingering a little too long with a certain softness).
-🦌 Won’t let you lift a finger at all (not like he didn’t before). 100% more overprotective than anything. You want to go out on a walk? He’s with you immediately, arm wrapped around your waist. He can’t go with you? His shadows are following you.
Alastor was in the middle of a conversation disagreement with Husk before his focus was pulled away seeing you put on your coat, “Darling, where are you off to on this fine Hellish afternoon?” He asked, appearing behind you with his arm wrapped around your waist as he bent down to gently kiss your cheek. “Going on walk,” You hummed as he sent a gaze down towards your growing belly. “Perfect!~ Maybe if you're up for it we can stop by Cannibal Town to speak with Rosie~” He hummed, forgetting all about the conversation from before his focus mainly on you.
-🦌 Speaking of Rosie, once she knows about your pregnancy she’d be over the moon and makes it her mission to watch over you if Alastor has “business” murder to attend to as well as makes herself an Auntie. You didn’t mind at all.
-🦌 Once you go into labor? He is right beside you wiping your forehead and allowing you to squeeze his hand as much as you want. As well as making death threats to whoever was helping you deliver the baby whether that be a doctor or someone from the Hotel. He has very creative ways of explaining how he would skin someone from head to toe. If you weren’t in so much pain (and delirious from the medication) you would’ve told him to chill.
-🦌 Now once the baby is in your arms and he’s calmed down significantly, he’s going to be pampering you and his child. He doesn’t care for what the gender of his child is, he just wants you and his child to be happy.
-🦌 Now, this might go without saying but Alastor is a Mama’s boy through and through so if he does end up having a daughter there is a chance he might name her after his mother in someway. If it’s a boy, he’ll allow you to have full reign on the naming process while giving his input as well.
-🦌 Now, I see Alastor as a laid back but strict parent. He’ll allow his kid(s) to have full reign and learn what hurts them or not. But will step in if they are truly in danger or about to get seriously hurt. Will give out amazing advice when needed. But most likely will stay back.
-🦌 No matter the gender of his kid(s), they will sit with him in his radio tower as he shows them what does what. He does this mostly when they are babies or toddlers when they get older he actually teaches them on what does what and how to successfully run a radio show. You have caught him doing this multiple times and he has yet to apologize cause they need to know how important radio is.
You were making your way up to your husband’s tower as you had a sneaking suspicion that he had once again taken your child up there. As you entered through the hatch you watched the display of your husband holding the sleeping toddler in his arms as he rocked back and forth. “These dials right here help you change the frequency and volume of your show..” he softly whispered out his ears, flickering noting your sudden appearance. You walked over as quietly as you could watching as the small tail on your toddler wagged in their sleep. You didn’t dare disrupt him now as he had a way of getting them to bed easily.
-🦌 Overall, he would be great in some aspects. Once again very laid back but still very much present and active in everything involving both you and your child together. He has some flaws in his parenting but honestly who doesn’t. 7/10 in my books.
-🦌 Oh also- Dad jokes all day, every day. He once again will not apologize, good luck.
Lucifer:
-🍎 Oh boy our favorite short King in the house. He’s done this rodeo for Charlie all those years ago, he knows what to do.
-🍎 But once you tell him in the form of rubber duckies (idk that seems so cute to me) he looks up at you confused before he starts bawling. Don’t worry it’s because he is super excited and he’s an emotional guy, please give him hugs and kisses.
-🍎 Once he is done crying, he picks you up and spins you around before the anxiety sets in. Do you want to be a parent? What if he isn’t a good father? What he fucks up again?
-🍎 Please reassure him and give him more kisses, tell him you do want to be a parent with him and he’ll be a great father and if he fucks up, you’ll be there 100% of the way to help him back on the right track. He appreciates you so much.
-🍎 He is super nervous to tell Charlie cause what if she doesn’t approve? What if she gets upset? She doesn’t, Charlie is super super excited to have another sibling and when she hears the news she cries much like her father. So now you have your husband and stepdaughter sobbing in each other’s arms.
-🍎 Charlie convinces you both to do a baby shower/gender reveal party at the hotel. Vaggie makes sure to keep the troublemakers Angel and Alastor at bay. Lucifer the whole time is making sure you're alright and comfortable while also crying at the tiny baby booties.
You smiled at your husband who was walking back with a glass of water for you, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else, Darling?” He whispered out sitting next to you, making you smile and shake your head. “I’m fine, Luci..go enjoy the baby shower Charlie set up for us..” You whispered out watching as he pouted at the thought of leaving you his very pregnant spouse.
-🍎 Idk why but my brain just wants Lucifer to have twins so bam- he’s gonna have twins now. Poor man had to let his brain reset for a hot minute cause now he’s gonna have double the babies. He will cry so please hug him close again.
-🍎 Oh boy oh boy when you go into labor? He is the best person to go to, he’ll let you scream and curse at him while he comforts you and gives you little kisses between praises. Wiping the sweat and tears from your face while allowing you to squeeze his hand.
-🍎 When he holds the twins? He cries most definitely and promises to do everything he can to make his babies happy.
-🍎 Another man who doesn’t care what the gender of his babies are, if they are healthy and happy he is happy. The possibilities here for names are endless. The babies most definitely get his blonde hair and rosy red cheeks.
-🍎 Now having twins gives him the opportunity to be like, “Not only do I have one cute baby, I have TWO” and proceeds to turn around to show the other baby happily sleeping in a baby sling. You always laugh cause why is your husband so cute?
-🍎 You both need a break or want to go out on a date and can’t get a babysitter? Not to worry Big Sis Charlie is to the rescue with Vaggie and the rest of the crew!
“Are you sure Charlie? We can find someone else if you're too busy.” You asked, feeling horrible but Charlie happily waved off your concern, “Nonsense! I’d love nothing more than to look after my siblings as you and dad go take some well needed rest!” She hummed, glancing over at Vaggie who was happily holding one of the sleeping twins and Lucifer glaring at Alastor who was watching from afar. “Okay, if you're sure..If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” You replied watching as your other baby happily chomped on your husband’s finger with the amount of confidence only babies seem to have.
-🍎 Overall, Lucifer’s parenting style is great! He’s a little anxious but who isn’t when dealing with babies, he’ll mess up sure but once again lead him in the right direction and he’ll be fine. I’d give him a 9/10 here. Minus one point because of the dad jokes mixing with the duck jokes (but that’s what we love about him no? It’s mostly the dad jokes.)
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x you#gn reader#alastor x gn!reader#hazbin lucifer#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer x gn!reader
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hobie brown (spider-punk!!) is giving me severe brain rot, i love him sm 😭
if you ever decide to write for him, could you do some relationship hcs??
ty ^^
Not sure wether this is what you wanted but I hope it was worth it.
Music from the heart:
One of the most obvious ones is that Hobie would have a plethora of songs about you, it’s fucking adorable and so sweet, and so he would play them for you within the comfort of your room because where else would you rather be serenaded?
If anything it makes the moment more special and memorable for the both of you as something you can look back on with fondness.
Though you probably try teasing him one day by asking how many more songs of you he had in the works and Hobie would either say ‘too many to count.’ Or ‘a whole albums worth.’ He’s not going to hide the fact that he’s got notebook after notebook filled with song lyrics dedicated to you.
Pda though not quite:
Hobie isn’t the type to heavily involve himself in PDA but isn’t against the likes of:
holding hands.
his hand being placed on the small of your back when guiding you somewhere else.
the classic arm over the shoulder.
Thigh holding
His/ your head resting on each others shoulders and or laps.
Guitar pick:
This one came to my head out of the blue but I’m gonna add it here even though I’m not too certain but here it is anyway:
if Hobie uses guitar picks to play his guitar -which he probs doesn’t but idk- I’d like to think he’d make you a guitar pick necklace from one of his old picks.
Sure he hates gifts and such but this is the sole expectation alongside any and all handcrafted jewellery you may give him because he wears that shit with pride.
Terms of endearment:
Love
Darling
Sweetheart
Impromptu sleepovers:
Hobie crashes at your place more often then not to the point he might as well be living with you in regards of how often he leaves something of his at yours, so much so you’ve begun to wonder if he was doing it intentionally or accidentally.
Either way you made sure that his stay was comfortable by having a makeshift bed set up for him so he didn’t have to constantly sleep on the uncomfortable couch and wake up with a crooked neck.
Hobie appreciates all that you do for him but would often tell you it’s not necessary but you weren’t about to get into a discussion about whether or not he was deserving of help because the answer was obvious and that answer would always and forever will be; yes.
Also he’s a bit of a cuddle bug but only with you but that’s your little secrete.
Date nights:
Most, if not all of your dates are either just the pair of you being your natural selves in the comfort of your own home where’d you would talk about anything and everything that came to your mind, free of judgment.
or
showing Hobie your undying love and support by showing up to his gigs and scream the loudest because he is talented as shit and deserves a lot more in your eyes.
Either way as long as you were within each others company, anywhere you both went could be considered a date.
Spidey business:
Now this is all dependant on wether or not you know he’s Spider-Man:
If you did then you’d probably would help him patch up his wounds after every fight he had
Or
If you weren’t due to Hobie wanting nothing more then to keep you and that life as far from each other as possible, you’d most definitely would be concerned when you see him with any sustained injuries he tried patching up himself.
No matter how hard you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, Hobie would just tell you it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
Meeting his friends/ Bragging rights:
Before introducing you to the likes of Pavitr, Miles and Gwen(if you haven’t already met her), it’s almost an 100% guarantee that he brags about you anyway he knows how which only intrigues them more and more to the point they’re just pleading with Hobie to introduce his cool, kickass partner to them.
So when he does, the three are practically hounding you about your relationship with Hobie and when you looked back at him for help in wrangling in his over excited friends, the little shit merely smirks and shrugs his shoulders as though he had no idea they’d react like this, all the while leaning on the wall with his arms crossed over his chest; happy to see all his favourite people he cares about a lot interacting with one another to the point that by the end of the day you’re very good friends with each of them.
#spiderman atsv x you#spiderman atsv#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv imagines#spiderman atsv x reader#spiderman atsv fic#spiderman atsv imagine#spider punk x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown imagines#hobie brown imagine#hobie brown x you#aross the spiderverse#spiderverse imagine#spiderverse x reader
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Rick Grimes x reader - so perfect
Hello👋👋 Rick fluff where he comes home and just sees reader hanging out with the kids. And he just stops and watches them, thinking how lucky he is to have her. Please and thank you. Love your work btw❤❤❤. - @hoodiepandaninja16 💜
Holding Judith in your arms, you looked at Carl as he threw a tennis ball against the side of the house, catching it in his hand to throw it again.
“Carl?”
He looked over, stopping what he was doing.
“If you keep throwing that at all wall, you’re gonna break a hole in it eventually.”
He chuckled a little, looking at the tennis ball.
“Sorry, guess I got lost thinking.”
“Hey, not me you need to be sorry too, that poor house has been getting beat on for at least an hour.”
He laughed again, walking over to you, letting you place a hand on his head, and he rested his head on your shoulder.
“What’s going on?” You asked quietly.
He sighed a little bit, offering you nothing more than just a shrug.
“I don’t know, I guess I’m just thinking about a lot of stuff you know? Sometimes it’s hard not to when it’s all you can do.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Nah.”
You nodded, letting him move away from you and over to the front of the house where he sat down, so you did the same.
Placing Judith on the porch next to you, and Carl handed her his tennis ball.
“That’s fine, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But if you do you know I’ll listen.”
“Thanks (Y/N).”
You smiled at him, and you leant back on your hands, looking at the skies that were threatening to downpour at any moment.
It was still sunny, but the clouds were rolling in quickly, and given the thunder that was in the distance it would be here soon.
“Do you think dad will make it back before the storm hits?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“You really don’t lie don’t you? Could’ve at least tried to lie for me.” Carl mocked.
You laughed a little, grinning down at him.
“Nope, what’s the point. The truth will come out eventually, whether you want it to or not, by lying your just wasting your own time.”
“Do you think he’ll be alright?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Carl nodded his head, he believed you.
Judith rolled the ball and you caught it before it went down the steps, rolled it gently back over to you and she giggled.
She pushed it back, so you once again pushed it back.
“Can you go through my bag and find my deck of cards?” You asked.
“Yeah, why?” Carl asked back.
“We’re gonna be stuck inside soon, May as well find some way to pass the time.”
You did try to keep them outside for as long as possible, but when it started to rain you decided to bring them inside.
Carl was insistent that he wanted to wait by the gate, but you wouldn’t let him.
So, you all sat on the floor of the living room, music coming from the stereo that you had put on.
Judith sat in your lap, and you tried teaching Carl how to play poker.
“Seriously, how is this in any way helpful?”
“It’s not, it’s just fun as hell.”
He grinned a little at you.
“Dad’s gonna hate you trying to teach me this, you know that right?”
“I could teach you how to throw them.”
“Like throwing stars?”
You nodded and he immediately sat up.
“Hell yes.”
“Hey, language. I’m an adult you’re not, your dad will kick my ass if he finds out.”
“Our secret?” Carl grinned.
You hummed, thinking for a moment as you studied with narrowed eyes.
“I used to cheat at poker in Las Vegas and was was banned from returning.”
“What?”
“You tell your dad that I’ll tell him you swear when he’s not around.”
You held your hand out and Carl grinned, shaking your hand.
“Deal.”
You let go, and you picked up one of the play cards, looking at the apple you had set on the table not long before.
Aiming, you threw the card, it curved a little in the air but lodged itself into the apple.
“Holy shit…”
“Hey! Just because I said I wouldn’t tell doesn’t mean you can keep doing it!”
“Show me again.”
While Judith slept on the couch you taught Carl some of the tricks of the trade you had learnt over time.
Carl was pretty quick with picking some of them up, others not so much, but the card throwing was his new favourite.
You had ran out of apples to throw them at, so you went to throwing them into his hat instead.
“Where did you learn this?”
“I spent a lot of time in Vegas kid, you pick up a lot of things in a place like that.”
“Did you have a gambling problem or something?”
You rolled your eyes.
“No, I was a professional gambler. Well, fraudster I guess, we worked as a team, taking casinos for all they were worth, using all the tricks, same with street hustling.”
“So, just a petty criminal then.”
“Ouch, petty? I’ll have you know I was wanted in over half the states for this shit.”
“And… you’re with my dad, who’s a cop?”
“Yeah that crap doesn’t matter now, what’s he gonna do, arrest me?”
“Yeah you’ve got a point.”
You handed him a couple more cards, looking to Edith as she moved.
Getting up, you held your arms out to her and picked her up, holding her in one arm as you slapped the card Carl threw back at him.
“I’m going to feed her, you want anything?”
“Yeah, I’ll help.”
You guys made dinner, setting a plate aside for Rick, just in case he came back that night.
While Carl spent time with his sister you washed up and made your way back inside to see him dancing around the living room with her.
“You call that dancing?”
You laughed a little, and you swept Judith into your arms.
“First, it’s always gentlemanly to bow.”
You did a small bow, and he did the same thing, and then you held your palm out to him.
“Put your palm on mine.”
He did, and you began teaching him the steps to a simple dance you had learned a long time ago.
Because of the thunder, you didn’t hear the door opening, and Rick stood against doorway, crossing his arms as he watched the tree of you.
Judith was giggling each time you turned around.
“Where did you learn to dance like this?”
“Would you believe me if I told you that I actually did drama when I was your age? Specialised in Shakespeare.”
“So… like a million years ago?”
“Ouch, okay, you know what Carl Grimes, I thought we were friends, but we’re not.”
He laughed, and you heard a laugh from behind you.
Both of you turned over and he walked over to his dad.
You walked over, handing Rick his daughter back and you smiled at him, gesturing to the kitchen.
“Food ready for you, just need to heat it up.”
“Thanks, I’ll get her to bed then I will.”
“I’ll heat it, you do what you have to do.” You smiled.
Rick went upstairs with Carl, and you went into the kitchen to heat up his dinner for him.
While he was up there he grabbed a shower, changing into some fresh clothes while you were setting his plate on the table.
He came back downstairs, and you were cleaning the kitchen, humming a little to yourself.
He sat down, his chin resting on his hand as he just watched you.
This whole time since the prison you had been with him, you had helped him, supported him, never questioning any of the choices he made.
You had complete faith in him, and here you were, looking after his children for him even though you didn’t have too.
After everything he had done, Rick wasn’t sure how he still had somebody like you.
He had no clue what he did to even deserve somebody like you.
Yet here you were, standing right in front of him, as if the whole world was perfect, and in that moment he could have sworn it was.
“Teach me that dance.”
You turned around, looking at him, then the food he hadn’t touched.
“Eat, then asked again.”
He chuckled, quickly eating his dinner, washing up after himself and he walked into the living room where you were sat.
“Now will you teach me the dance?”
You smiled, getting up.
“First, the gentleman thing to do is bow.”
You bowed, snd he copied you.
You held up your hand, and he placed his palm over yours.
Whatever move you made he did the same thing, his eyes locked with yours as you both slowly danced.
This was it, this was perfect, his eyes focused on yours, everything else seeming nothing but background noise.
Rick slowly moved his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and he smiled softly, warm eyes focused on yours.
He held a nervous breath as he watched you, and you smiled softly back, copying him
#the walking dead#the walking dead x reader#the walking dead x you#the walking dead x y/n#the walking dead imagine#twd#twd x reader#twd x you#twd x y/n#twd imagine#Rick grimes#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes x you#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes imagine
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WHEN THE SUN RISES - SAE ITOSHI
synopsis: You have doubts about your relationship. Sae provides reassurance.
contents: early established relationship, gn!reader, fluff, reader is a tad insecure, mentions of other couples and pda, talks about all things mushy with love
word count: 1.1K
a/n: waaahh cant believe i didn't post anything for my husband on his birthday im so terrible - this is something short and sweet ;-; i haven't posted anything in a bit bc I've been so tired lately LOL
You have doubts.
Doubts about your work performance, test scores, your friendships, and sometimes the future — you know, the less important things.
Your least favorite doubts are the ones about you and Sae.
He’s not a bad boyfriend by any means. You’ve been dating each other for a while now, just shy of six months, and it’s been going well. Like any other college couple, you spend your free time together either marathoning a shitty reality TV show, studying, or eating at the local diners near campus once in a while for a ‘fancy’ burger and pizza date night (which Sae hates, by the way, but he goes because there’s nothing better around). You don’t blame him for these doubts because it’s just the way he is. You’ve always known this, along with everyone else around you.
“Itoshi Sae? Yeah, he’s pretty cold and blunt.” They’d say in a hushed whisper.
Another would agree, followed by an exaggerated shiver. “I heard even professors are scared of him.”
They’re annoying rumors and passing comments you've gotten somewhat used to. So you don’t blame the gossipers at your school either. Who you do blame are all the couples you would see, whether it’d be at school, at the grocery store, and sometimes even your own parents. Seeing things like holding hands, hugging, and even kissing each other goodbye sets something weird off in your chest.
And, well, you’ve known Sae for a while. You know that maybe he isn’t the type to be comfortable with these things, especially in public. And maybe you’re not going to guilt trip him into doing things that are out of his ordinary. But here’s the problem.
You do want to experience all of it.
“Sae?”
“Hm?”
“Do you like me?”
Your question throws him off just a tiny bit. He fumbles slightly with his flow of writing before catching himself and throws you a questioning look from across the table.
It’s the midterm season so every floor at the university’s library is packed. All but the top floor, which is mainly reserved for graduate students, who are rarely even on-site. So you two manage to snag a booth in the corner by the bathrooms and water fountain. You’ve been studying for about two hours straight and the thought of going over the rules of the Krebs cycle again haunts you so you let your doubts take over. Hence, why you blurted out the question that’s been burning on your mind for the past week.
“I do, why do you ask?” He doesn’t sound bothered by it, so you take that as a good sign.
But how do you go about asking him to show that? Maybe asking upfront would be too demanding right now. You decide to dance around the subject a little more.
There’s a moment in silence, your eyebrows creased in deep thought before you finally speak, voice clumsy and almost rough sounding. “When did you realize you liked me?”
He answers without missing a beat, eyes never leaving his notebook. “Dunno.”
Well, that wasn’t the answer you were expecting.
“Huh?”
“What?” Sae breaks his focus and stares at you, as if you were the one who had said something weird. “You asked and I answered.”
“You have to explain with that sorta question, you know?”
In just the tiniest of motions, Sae frowns. He’s holding his breath for a few seconds in preparation and his eyes soften. “I’m not sure when I fell in love with you.”
Woah—wait love? This is also not what you were expecting out of this conversation either. Is it too late to go back to studying now?
Sae picks up the worried look on your face and manages a soft chuckle. “You know when the sun rises?”
You’re patting your face with your hands now, hoping to eliminate the burn on your cheeks. The sweat forming in your palms doesn’t help at all. And, frankly, you’re confused by his question. “Um, between six and seven?”
“Well, yeah,” he laughs again and you’re not sure if that was the answer he was looking for. “But it always rises, right?”
“Right,” you say slowly, still confused by what he’s trying to get at.
“I’m not sure when I fell in love but whenever the sun rises, it reminds me of you,” Sae explains with a leveled expression, ignoring the little surprised squeaks from your direction. “It’s been like that for a while now and brings me comfort whenever I do wake up early to see it rising.”
“Did you get that line from a K-drama or something?”
He rolls his eyes and fake scoffs. “Thought you wanted an explanation?”
“Well,” you bite back a giggle and continue, “you never struck me as a metaphor type of guy.”
“And you never struck me as the jealous type.”
You grow hotter because wow guess you haven’t been that great at hiding away your feelings—or maybe your boyfriend is just that good at being perceptive as he is being a top honor student. “Was it that obvious?”
“When you’re looking at other couples and grumbling right after then yeah, it’s pretty obvious.” Sae’s tone doesn’t carry any ounce of tease and he gives you a fond look. It makes you feel slightly guilty and embarrassed.
You shrink deeper into the booth, holding your textbook up to your face. “Sorry…”
The seat next to you dips and a familiar pair of hands gently snatches the book away from you, revealing Sae’s rare soft expression again.
“Don’t be,” He reaches over to ruffle your hair before moving his laptop and notebook over to your side. “Plus, you shouldn’t worry that much, I’ll always be with you.”
A pause and then you decide to blurt out your other burning question because things are already out in the open at this point. “Would it be alright if we start doing more couple-ly things together?”
“Mhm,” he’s about to dive back into studying but stops, humming in thought. “What should we do more?”
“Well, aside from me,” Sae deadpans and you straighten your posture. “Sorry, sorry, what I meant to say is I guess more PDA? Holding hands would be a good start.”
“Okay,” He says quietly and drops his pen, carefully interlacing his fingers with yours.
Sae’s hands are warm, maybe even sweaty if you’re not mistaken. You look up and oh — his cheeks have the tiniest amount of red on them. Probably no different from the resurgence of warmth you’re currently feeling too.
“Better?” Sae asks and squeezes your hand.
“Yeah, better.” You squeeze back.
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock imagines#bllk x reader#blue lock x reader#doobea writing#sae itoshi x reader#itoshi sae x reader#itoshi sae#sae itoshi#blue lock fluff#blue lock x gn reader
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headcannons ⮕ c.s.
a/n: i lowkey hate this LMAOOOOO but it’s okay. these are kinda chris x shy reader, chris in the talking stage, and dating chris all mixed in together, but only bc i have no idea what i’m doing and i tried my best PFFFFT. thank you to @rainsoakedphoenix for the idea, and the lovely anon in my inbox telling me they were excited to read them 😭 i hope i did hc justice, bc i genuinely have no idea how to do them LMAOO
❥ chris would be such a bad texter while you were talking. like, he’d keep the conversation going and always respond, but he wouldn’t ever know what to say until he felt the most at ease with you. his replies would still be dry as HELL, but he’d at least put the effort in bc he liked you lmaoo
❥ he’d notice IMMEDIATELY that you were extremely shy. he’d clock that shit so fast, and it’d become a joke between the two of you, before and after you were official.
❥ he would constantly be touching you, whether his hands were holding yours, his hand was on your lower back, his arm around your shoulders, etc. dude’s love language is TOUCH for sure.
❥ dude would constantly use your shyness against you, but never in a bad way ! he’d for sure hold eye contact with you just to make you blush, and tease you mercilessly about it until the two of you were cackling messes.
❥ as much as he said he’d call his girlfriend by her name, he’d be dropping pet names like it was NO ONE’S business
❥ “baby, will you grab that for me ?” “i didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart.” “there’s my girl.”
❥ constantly telling you to look at him when you were talking, just to tease you for being so flustered by him.
❥ “baby, look at me. i need you to look at me when you talk.”
❥ “are you blushing ? damn, i’m that good, huh ?”
❥ only referring to you as “my girl” around other people, just to see your reaction (you never get used to it, and he loves it)
❥ “oh yeah, my girl loves that movie.” “sorry, i have plans with my girl.”
❥ as much as he teased you, he never crossed any boundaries. the moment he noticed you were not having fun anymore, he’d shut it down and the two of you would leave
❥ always answering for you when you weren’t used to the person asking questions just yet, but you never minded
❥ you’d definitely tell him you loved him first, and then it’d be HIS turn to be flustered.
❥ “what did you say ? no, say it again.”
❥ dude would be an absolute bewildered mess, stuttering over his words and not being able to look at you until he calmed down.
❥ “you love me ?”
❥ he’d then just tackle you onto the couch and pepper kisses all over your face, relishing in the fact that your cheeks were heating up and you were giggling hysterically under him.
❥ remember how i said he would always be touching you ? that shit would double when you were out in public. whether it was a party, a premiere, a grocery store, etc. it was mostly a comfort thing, never letting go of you so you knew he was there. he of course noticed how antsy you got, which was just a perk for him.
❥ constantly making a fool of himself in public when you’re with him, just to see if he can get you out of your shell
❥ he’s actually shocked at how goofy you are when you’re around him, and as much as he acts hard, he’s so obsessed with the fact that you’re 100% comfortable with him
❥ a huge “let me see” guy when you tell him you bought something new, and then a “no, on you” when you only send him a picture of the outfit
❥ forehead kisses for daysssss
❥ dude kisses your nose more than he kisses your lips, but relishes in your pout before pecking you on the lips
❥ movie nights constantly, especially when your social battery is low
❥ “get over here” and holds out his arms i’m weak
❥ hugs you from behind every time you turn around, even when he just hugged you from the front. dude just likes resting his chin on your shoulder and seeing what you’re doing, but heaven forbid he ever lets go of you
tags: @strniolo , @toyourloves , @ssturniolo , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @dwntwn-strnlo , @tylerscreat0r , @lvrsparadise , @angelcake-222 , @20nugs , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo#the sturniolos#the sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo blurb#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo imagine#chris sturniolo headcanon
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let's just drive (charles leclerc x reader)
inspired by a request from an anon: would you like to write one for Charles where he can't drive his normal car (for whatever reason), so he asks the reader for help, but she's kind of nervous and thinks there will be some judging?
a/n: i took the liberty of making her scared she'll crash, i hope that's okay. i just feel like it fit the prompt better (+ there's something that I don't like about this but idky- so my sincere apologies if you also feel it)
“Here you go,” Charles says, casually dropping the keys in your hand before giving your cheek a kiss. You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice the way all your blood has drained out of your face, or if he’s choosing to ignore it because he doesn’t mention it. Instead he circles around the car to go into the passenger seat.
He fumbles a bit with the door before closing it, having to awkwardly reach over with his left arm to pull the seat belt from the right. He struggles over the cast that’s wrapped around his arm, and for a second you feel sorry for him, but all of this goes away the moment he looks over at you expectantly.
“Come on,” He says. You notice the smile he attempts to fight back, the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and looks away. So he did notice I look nervous, you think to yourself. Dickhead.
Passenger princess. That is what all your friends had decided to call you once you had started dating your boyfriend. It had been an off-handed joke at first, one that was pegged because of your boyfriend’s career, but here you were almost two years into your relationship and the nickname had stuck.
Over the last two years you found yourself behind the wheel less and less, whilst finding more and more comfort in riding shotgun. It’s not that you hated driving, far from that, but he just loved it, offering to take you wherever you needed to go.
That is exactly why the sight of his 488 Pista is making you feel sick, extremely sick.
Regardless of your nerves, you somehow find yourself in the driver’s seat, pulling the seat forward to adjust for your own height. Somehow the car feels even scarier from the inside and you wonder whether calling an uber could be a choice.
“Did you really have to break your arm this week?” You ask as you turn the key. Of course you’re joking, well kind of. You just didn’t understand why you were the one who had to drive. The car roars as soon as the engine is on, and you try not to think how much power it actually has. You can feel your boyfriend’s eyes on you, amused by your whole ordeal.
Your hands are clammy as you hold the steering wheel, looking into the wing mirror. You’re about to change gears, eyes shifting back to the rearview mirror. Reverse, I can do it, you think. There’s a small second of silence right when you’re about to step on the clutch and you can practically feel Charles’ eyes burning into you.
The car reverses, only for a moment before it rocks back forward. You instantly wince, raising your shoulders to your face to wait for the impact that never comes. You hear a snicker from next to you and you exhale a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.
“You cannot be staring at me like that!” You say, cheeks flushed red, looking at him. Charles only continues to look at you, a smile playing on his lips as he shakes his head. He reaches over to hold your arm, thumb slowly rubbing at your skin. The touch sends a shiver down your spine.
“You’re acting like you don’t drive when I’m off racing.” Charles laughs in between his words, letting out a soft wheeze.
“Yeah- I drive my car. Not a ferrari.” You murmur, trying your best to let the heat leave your cheeks.
“You’re not going to crash it you know?”
“But what if I do?” Your question comes out high pitched and whiny, a stark contrast to how relaxed and laid back Charles seemed. He sucks a sharp breath between his teeth before letting it out with a shake of his head and a smile on his lips.
“First off all- you won’t,” He says as he reaches to turn off the car before reaching for your hand. “And second of all, so what if you do?” Charles asks, snorting at the shocked expression you give him.
“I’m sorry- are we forgetting how much your car costs?” You try to pull your hand away, wanting to prove your point about how stressed you actually are. He doesn’t let you though, only giving your clammy hand a squeeze.
“Actually, I don’t know how much it costs,” Charles says matter-of-factly. You can only groan, because of course Charles Leclerc does not know how much his Ferrari costs.
“Over two hundred thousand euros Charles.” His brow raises slightly, showing slight surprise and you’re a bit relieved by it, hoping that it would be enough for the idea of you driving to stray away. It doesn’t seem to work in your favor though.
“Wait- did you google how much my car costs before this?”
“How could I not?” Charles is back to laughing again, shaking his head in amusement. =
“Amour, it is going to be okay,” Charles promises. “I trust you.” His words are enough to get your shoulders to relax a bit, and for you to take a deep breath.
“But you love your car so much- what if anything happens?” You watch the way he brings your hand to his face, leaning down to pepper kisses into your knuckles. It helps in relaxing you, allowing you to let out a soft breath.
“Come on now, I love my car, but- I love you more.” He smiles at you as he gently puts your hand back down, but you don’t give in, only continuing to look at him with your lips pulled down into a pout. “If you crash it- which I am not saying you will, I won’t be mad. I’m the one that asked you to drive it,” Your silence fills the car and he squeezes your hand again to catch your attention. “Hm?”
“Are you sure?” You ask and Charles only laughs, rolling his eyes before pecking your lips.
“I,” he says before giving you another kiss, “promise that,” and another, “I love you” and another, “more than my stupid car” he finishes, sealing the promise with one last kiss. He takes his time with this one, enjoying the way your lips had curved up into a small smile. Bingo.
“Now will you drive?” He claims victory when you nod in response, pulling away to lean back onto his seat. There’s a moment of silence as your fingers shadow to start the car, but another thought enters your mind.
“Can I have one more kiss?” He knows you’re stalling, and at this point you’ll both be more than twenty minutes late, but he smiles anyways.
“Of course,” He answers, coming closer again. Who’s to blame him though, he did love you most.
#charles leclerc#charles x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#drabble#f1 imagine#f1 drabble#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#cl16 imagine#cl16 x reader
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