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saetoru · 10 months

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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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hs-is-loml · 6 months

Text

You Know This. (cl16)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x best friend!Reader

Summary: moments of charles and reader throughout the years that show they are so obviously meant for each other so carlos gives them a small push. (they are basically together but without the title...)

Warnings: mentions of Jules and Hervé so little angst but the majority is fluff! one kiss? lando swears. cute couple moments of two idiots UNEDITED

a/n: almost forgot how to write compared to the social media AUs i've been doing... hope you enjoy :)

all translations of french below

Chérie = darling

masterlist

19 years old

You stared out the window overlooking the streets of Baku until you heard a sigh from across the room.

“I’m so tired. Is it even worth going through this weekend?” Charles admitted as you looked over to him running his hands over his face while he took a seat on the edge of the hotel bed. “I don’t know if I’ll make it through.”

“No one will blame you if you don’t,” you said walking over to stand in front of him.

“That’s what they all expect isn’t it?”

“You’re doing more than enough just being here,” you brought your hands to his face and gently rubbed your thumb along his jaw.

“I miss him, Y/n. How am I supposed to continue without him?” he whispered while he wrapped his arms around your frame and pulled you closer to lean his head against your stomach.

You could tell that he had finally reached a breaking point from holding out on his own emotions as he helped everyone in the family with theirs. You knew that he was staying strong for Pascale and Arthur while Lorenzo was handling everything for Hervé’s funeral. When he asked you to accompany him for this race, you said yes without any doubts crossing your mind.

You soon feel his shoulders shake as he lets out soft sobs. “You continue for him. Just like you have done for Jules, they’re going to watch your legacy grow together. One day you’ll be driving in that red car placing poles and winning races. You will make it through this,” you played with the hair at the nape of his neck as you reassured him.

You were aware that he had told Hervé a few weeks ago that he had signed with Ferrari already. In the past few years, it had always been the goal. Everyone understood how crucial it was for him to make that come true.

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“I know, but I believe in you. We all do. It’s only a matter of time.”

“What would I do without you?” he lifted up his head to look at you.

“Well, it’s a good thing I never plan on leaving you,” you leaned down to press a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.

"I'll never let you go."

20 years old

You were talking with Andrea and Lorenzo near the Alfa Romeo motorhome while you all waited for Charles to finish with media day. “How do you think he’s doing with the news?” you anxiously looked around in the hope of seeing him heading your way. “The media has gone wild when the contact got out that he signed with Ferrari.”

“Probably basking in the attention,” Lorenzo laughed. “You know how long he’s waited for this.”

“That boy never fails to catch the camera either,” Andrea added while you covered your mouth with your hand trying to stifle your laugh when you realized that Charles was finally done for the day.

Charles came to your side snaking an arm around your waist and teasingly poked you, “What are you three laughing about you?”

“You,” all of you replied, causing him to gasp in fake annoyance.

“I know ma chérie would never do such a thing,” he shook his head at the two men. “Enzo, look how bad of an influence you are.” Which was Andrea’s queue to quietly leave before he was targeted by the young driver too. He took Lorenzo along with him as the older brother gaped at the accusation.

You both started to head to his driver’s room to gather his things before driving back to the hotel. “How was it?” you asked him while you took out his phone from your purse.

“A lot. It feels like it’s never ending and everyone keeps congratulating,” he smiled and reached out for the phone.

“I’ve only heard of all the good things so far,” you tell him and hand the phone back to him.

You had begun to look for your jacket, and it was almost as if he had read your mind, “It’s right here, I’ve got it.”

As you two walked out of the paddock, there were still crowds of fans and photographers lingering around the area hoping to catch a glimpse of one of the drivers. People started to whisper and squeal when they saw Charles place his hat on your head allowing you to shield your face from the now flashing cameras.

“Who is she?”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“They must be dating.”

“Charles! Over here!”

“Can you sign this for me please!”

You listened to all the hollers from the crowd as you got into the car, “Wow.”

“You okay?” Charles softly asked and glanced at you before starting to drive back to the hotel.

“Were they always like that while you were in F2 and I’ve never noticed?” you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I’m not sure,” he chuckled at your reaction.

21 years old

“He has one more corner!” you held onto Andrea’s arm anxiously looking at the screen.

“MERCEDES THREW EVERYTHING AT HIM TODAY… CHARLES LECLERC HAS COPED BRILLIANTLY!” you heard from the speakers.

“HE’S GOT IT!” one of the crew members screamed when they saw Charles shoot down to the line.

“HE WINS IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA! CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2019 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!” David Croft announced as Charles crossed the finish line. He had just won in Monza in front of the infamous Tifosi.

You felt yourself get pushed to the front of the barrier as people started rushing to see the winner. The momentous scene couldn’t have been better. He had just ended the nine-year winless streak in Monza and scored his second consecutive race win. All you could hear in the hectic moment was the Ferrari crew chanting out in Italian for Charles. The crowds of fans roared out in cheers and the stands filled with raised Ferrari and Italian flags.

You will never forget the moment he jumped down from on top of his car and made his way over to you. His hands found your sides as you held the sides of his helmet. “You did it,” your smile wide and eyes filled with tears as you focused on him.

“For them,” he told you tenderly.

“For them,” you repeated and placed a kiss right where you thought the corner of his mouth would have been. The crew reached over to congratulate him, and the cameras were pointed directly at him wanting to capture the moment.

The podium ceremony was scintillating. The crew, media, and Tifosi all packed in to see their winner. Andrea knew to keep you close to the front knowing that Charles would want to see you more than anyone else. It wasn’t only you looking up at him in admiration though it seemed like the world stopped for a moment when he blew a kiss back down to you from the podium.

Your cheeks flushed from the action and beamed as you met his eyes, “I love you,” you mouthed to him hoping he could read your lips from the stand.

“I love you,” he replied back.

22 years old

With COVID delaying the F1 season and everyone having to quarantine. You and Charles had decided to move in together into his apartment to keep each other company. It wasn’t hard to fall into a routine for you two.

“Y/n! Can you bring me water please?” you heard a yell from Charles’ gaming room.

You got up from the couch and set aside your book heading into the kitchen. Decided to bring him a small pack of crackers as well along with the water since he had been on stream for a while. You brought the plate to him which he thanked you for and gave your hand three small squeezes.

The simple interaction caused the chat to make tons of new comments flow through regarding you. Over the past few years, you found yourself more comfortable with your life in front of the camera because of his career, and it makes you look back to the times of Charles’ first year in F1. You could now give a small wave to the camera before you planned to head back out to the door.

“That’s not fair,” you heard Lando complain from the screen, causing you to halt in your footsteps to listen closely. “You have Y/n to bring you stuff, and you don’t even need to stop the game.”

“Lando’s just jealous he doesn’t have anybody,” George snickered.

“Damn right, I am,” Lando huffed out. “I want a Y/n.”

Charles noticed you silently laughing and he motioned for you to come back over wanting to tease Lando a bit more. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in closer to be in the frame, “Too bad there’s only one of her.”

Lando started muttering about how it was not his fault that he was alone during these times all while you shook your head at their antics. Alex and George continued the jokes creating a newfound argument that moved the topic away from you and Charles. “What do you want for dinner?” you questioned him softly not wanting to disrupt the chaotic banter from the others.

“Will you make carbonara?”

“DID YOU HEAR THAT??” Lando pointed to the screen baffled. “SHE EVEN COOKS DINNER FOR HIM! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN? Y/N, WILL YOU COOK FOR ME NEXT TIME?”

“Sure, Lando. Once quarantine ends we can plan something out,” you replied with a sweet smile towards the camera.

“YES!” he cheered out at your response.

“Once we get back to racing, will you bring your cookies again?” George asked excitedly.

“Or the muffins!” Alex added on.

“I’ll go and bring them if you bring Lily, Alex!” you answered them.

24 years old

You told Charles earlier in the week telling him that you couldn’t make it to the Bahrain Grand Prix due to work. Really you just wanted to surprise him, and you had been in contact with Carlos planning it out.

“I think he is getting suspicious of me,” Carlos told you over the phone as you got your bags together waiting for Carlos’ cousin to come and get you from the airport.

“Well, I’ve only sent him short messages for the past few days and maybe ignored a couple of his calls because I can’t keep lying to him…” you explained which caused the man on the other side of the phone to snicker at your dispense.

“I swear you want him to kill me, Y/n. Once he finds out.”

“Find out what? Who are you talking to all the time, mate?” you listened to Charles continuously question Carlos.

"No one!" Carlos quipped.

"Is that Y/n?" Charles asked him.

"No, it's my sister..."

“Good luck!” you hung up the call quickly and got into the car with Carlos Oñoro.

“Charles found out?” he started heading to the hotel that the Ferrari team was staying at.

“Hopefully not yet, but Carlos was talking about how he’s on to him already.”

A notification went off on your phone and you saw it was a text message from Carlos.

You opened your messages with Charles and came up with something quick to text him about.

at the circuit

“Hermosa! You made it!” Carlos exclaimed when he saw you walking towards the group of the drivers that just got out of the media pen. "I swear he was going to choke me earlier."

You laughed at his remark and went over to his side to whisper to him, “He doesn’t know I’m here yet, right?”

He tugged you a bit closer and kept his hand on your upper back. He spoke into your ear in a hushed tone while carefully looking around, “Not a clue, but you remember what I said over text? You say he’s not your boyfriend yet, so let’s mess with him just a little. It’ll prove something to you.”

“Prove what-”

You were cut off by Lando as he finally took notice of your presence, “Y/n! Tell me you brought them!”

“Yes, Lando,” you smiled, taking a small packaged bag of cookies out of your bag before you could even hand them to him. He had snatched it and already begun opening the bag. “Yours are back at the hotel,” you told Carlos who was trying to take one from Lando.

“GIVE ME ONE!” George yelled at Lando who took his chance and ran off with his cookies.

“NO!” causing George to chase after the Mclaren driver.

Another group of drivers came over as they had just finished with their interviews. You saw Charles talking with Sebastian but he didn’t see you yet. “Sweetheart! A pleasant surprise, Charles was just talking about how you couldn’t make it,” Sebastian said with a smile as he walked past you with Fernando.

“Hello, Sebastian,” you smiled back and felt a breath near your ear.

“How long do you think it will take him to drag you away?” Carlos said in a low voice.

“He wouldn’t,” you mutter back.

“Oh, yes he would. Good luck with him,” Carlos grinned as Charles had stormed over to you two and grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Charlie!” you yelped as you tried to keep up with his pace towards the Ferrari’s motorhome and into his driver’s room.

He shut the door behind him, “So you can text Carlos but not me?”

"What are you talking about?" you acted confused."

"I know you were on call with Carlos earlier. But you couldn't even answer mine this morning?"

“It was supposed to be a surprise, Charles,” you huffed out.

“What a surprise that you and Carlos are together now?” he scoffed at the mere thought.

You began to laugh aloud which caused him to frustrate even further, “E-ex-cuse me?” you said through your laughter.

“This is not funny, Y/n.”

“Charles, it’s funny you think that I would even do anything with Carlos in the first place,” you pointed out to him while setting your bag down on a chair.

You heard his footsteps come closer to you until you felt him press against your back, “Are you not?”

You turned around to face him and took his face in your hands, “Of course not.”

“Good,” he placed his hands on your waist rubbing up and down your sides.

“And why is that?” you raised your eyebrow at him.

“Y-you kno-o-ow b-b-because you’r-re…” he trailed off a stuttering mess caught off guard by your question.

You stroke his jaw with your thumbs and brought his face closer to yours, “Charles, I’m yours. You know this.”

He leaned down and closed the gap between your lips in a long-awaited kiss. He kissed you gently as if he were testing the waters. You smiled against his lips and moved to wrap your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your hips. You moved forward slightly to lean more into him and he let out a groan against your mouth. He stilled in the kiss, keeping your hips in place from moving further.

“No more surprises, okay?" he said as you separated.

"Okay, but no more jumping to conclusions either."

"You are going to give me gray hairs early, Chérie," he exasperated.

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jayflrt · 10 days

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𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝟕𝟖𝟔 37. go piss girl

YOUR HEART WAS POUNDING WHEN YOU HEARD THE LIGHT KNOCK ON YOUR CABIN DOOR.

It wasn't that you were nervous—okay, maybe you were a little nervous—but it felt as if butterflies had swarmed your stomach with their fluttering wings. Now, the space really did feel small. You weren't sure how Jay was going to fit in the same seat as yours, but the idea was strangely exciting.

"Hey," you whispered when you pulled open the door for him. You scooted to the wall so that you could make some more space for him. "I just pulled up the movie."

"Oh, we're actually watching Shrek," Jay deadpanned. When he took his seat and closed the door again, you both became hyper-aware of the proximity once your arms were pressed against each other. "Kinda cramped in here."

"It should be fine," you said quickly, trying to mask how flustered you were by gesturing toward the screen. "Look, they have all three movies!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not staying around for three whole movies."

You shot him a dark look, feigning great offense as you folded your arms across your chest. Jay seemed to not realize the weight of his words until after seeing your reaction, and he immediately flooded with panic.

"Wait, I meant, like—not that, just—"

"Relax, I'm just messing with you." You giggled, diverting your attention away to start the movie. "Have you ever watched Shrek before? I used to watch it every single day when I was a kid, apparently."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my mom was mortified when I wanted to"—you turned back to look at him and your breath caught in your throat for a moment; Jay was looking down at you with those sincere eyes that were far too easy to get lost in—"dress up as Shrek for Halloween."

"Shrek, huh? Did you ever get to dress up as him?"

"No, I ended up being Fiona. All of my friends back then were dressing up like princesses, and my mom wanted to dress me up."

"Ouch. Well, you can be Shrek this year."

"You'd have to be my Princess Fiona then."

"Whatever you want."

His eyes went a touch unfocused, and you started to get the feeling that he didn't exactly care about Shrek costumes anymore. You weren't even completely sure he was talking about them.

You only started realizing it recently, but why did he always look at you like that?

Like he wanted to kiss you.

You couldn't pinpoint it before because you weren't really looking. It was hard to catch most of the time because he was so well-guarded, but in fractions of seconds, you could catch him looking into your eyes as if they held the world, as if he would fall apart if he tore his gaze away.

So, hypothetically, if you made a move on him, it wouldn't be a completely miscalculated step, right? It was obvious something was going on between you two, and there were clear signs, right? You weren't clinically insane?

Your mind was swimming with questions when you realized that almost half of the movie had gone by, and you were zoning out for its entirety. Reality only sharpened when you realized Jay had leaned back to put his arm around your shoulders. Unfortunately, now you couldn't care less about Shrek and Donkey; you could only think about how warm Jay's body was and how hot your chest felt.

Your chest must have been rising and falling too fast because Jay asked, "Are you good? Am I taking up too much room?"

"No! You're good, it's just a little tight in here—yeah, that's all," you replied absentmindedly.

"Oh, well..." He looked around helplessly. (There wasn't much to look at, anyway.) "Wanna sit on my lap?"

Your heart jumped, leaped, imploded—whatever. So much adrenaline was pumping through your blood that you hardly even processed whether you replied to him or not. All you knew was that you were climbing onto Jay's lap before he could even get adjusted.

"Whoa," he murmured, holding onto your hips to keep you steady (but all he managed to do was ignite a fire inside you). "I thought you said no."

"Did I? Sorry, I mix up yes and no sometimes." What the hell? No, you don't, your brain reminded immediately after.

He grinned. "Oh, yeah, common mistake."

You were too busy staring straight ahead and trying to ignore how badly you wanted to crumble into his arms that you nearly jumped when you heard Jay's soft chuckle against your back.

His hands slid up to your waist, and he murmured into your ear, "I'm gonna move you to sit between my legs—hold on."

(Normally, this would make you horny, but Lord Farquaad and Gingy were getting into their exchange of The Muffin Man nursery rhyme that never failed to make you laugh.)

"This good?" Jay asked once you two were settled. You were leaning back against his chest as you laid between his legs. Jay had his hands on his thighs, but you swore they were inching closer to you.

"Really good."

"Yeah?"

His pointer finger grazed your skin ever-so-slightly, and you fought the urge to press your thighs together. After all, you didn't want him to think his hands weren't welcome. As you two fell into complete silence, watching the movie but not really watching it, you found that Jay's hand was getting closer and closer until four of his fingers were on your thigh.

He used this time to ask (in a much lower voice now), "How about this?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, your voice hitching in an almost humiliating way, and you could feel Jay's chest swell as his hand moved fully onto your thigh. "I like that."

The movie was nearing its end by now, and you were both still silently watching, Jay's hand hardly moving from your thigh. There were a few times where he moved it down, only to bring it back up again, but you were careful not to react in a way that would make things awkward.

But when you realized that he was probably going to leave, you figured this was your chance to make him stay, to see if things could progress. Wasn't this the perfect time, anyway? With everyone asleep and a cabin to yourself, this was probably the most privacy you would get for the weekend.

You turned your head just enough to look up at him, and those butterflies swarmed around in a torrent when his gaze dropped to your lips for a brief second. You straightened up a little to place your hand on his shoulder, angling your body a little to face him.

"Um," you started in a small voice, "do you wanna stay a little longer?"

Jay's hand moved up to grip your inner thigh with just enough pressure to keep you at a comfortable angle, and, again, you fought down the gasp. "With you?"

You smiled. "Yeah."

The space between you two was getting smaller and smaller. It was as if some magnetic pull was drawing your bodies closer and closer... and your lips were inches apart... and then Jay jerked away, as if he had snapped out of some trance.

"I can't, sorry," he said quickly, removing his hand from your thigh to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. "It—it's getting late, and I should really get some sleep before we land."

Disappointed, you started moving so that he could have an easier time getting out of your cabin. You were half-expecting things to end up like this; moving fast with him wasn't going to work, but at least you knew now that he definitely felt some way about you.

"Goodnight," you told him, managing a smile. "Thanks for keeping me company."

"Yeah, it was fun."

He gave you that look again before closing your cabin door. You felt yourself deflate a little. It was an odd feeling, but you felt lonely when he was gone. You never really felt this way about Sunghoon since you got used to the loneliness, but Jay, who made an effort even as your friend, made you feel different.

Suddenly, your cabin door flew open again, and Jay was standing with regret painted all over his face.

"Look, I didn't mean to do all that and just back off," he said in a rush, sitting at the edge of your seat so that he could mutter everything to you in a low voice. "I just... it's hard right now, like, right now, as in—"

"Stop," you said, smiling ear-to-ear as your chest flooded with relief. Yeah, maybe you just needed to move a little slower. "I get it, don't worry."

"It's not that I don't..." he trailed off, gazing at you with deep longing etched in his eyes before he sighed. "Just... doing this right now is—"

"Jay, please," you tried again, reaching out to grab his hand. You tilted your head. "You can just make it up to me later. We can grab dinner in Monte Carlo?"

He seemed to be much less distressed now, merely sighing with contentment and nodding over and over again. "Yeah, let's do that."

"Goodnight, Jay," you sang with a teasing lilt to your voice.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

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SUMMARY ▸ private investigator jay park just wants to complete his mission quietly and move on with his life. you, his new assignment who keeps consuming his thoughts, don't make that very easy for him.

TAG LIST ▸ @zdgx1 @smouches @heesdazed @teawithbucky @leep0ems @peachpie4you @niniissus @kgneptun @jaeyunluvr @zerasari @sophiko22 @iselltulips @hoondiors @baekhyunstruly @jays-property @woninluv @heerinnie @fakeuwus @yizhoutv @theothernads @y4wnjunz @dammit-jjk @en-happiness @mari-oclock @soonyoungblr @jakeslvt @taetaenic @jebetwo @fairysungx @hsgwrld @shmooooo @ineedsomezzz @mrowww @enha-stars @seongclb @lockburn-castle @alyssajavenss @enczen @calumsfringe @w3bqrl @luvyev @uhsakusa @luvnicho @wildflowermooon @navsnct @hooniesuniverse @enhalov @enhypens-baby @isawritesss

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yyawnjun · 9 months

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⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧ CRUSHES ?! ⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧

ot13 seventeen x reader

a.n. helloo everyone, how are you? First time writing for svt and CARATS I am here for you!! Also I promise I will try to be more active on these days

Let me know your opinions and hcs !! comments, likes, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated. I hope y'all will like it ♡

summary: They as kind of apparently unreachable crushes - some of them are based on my experience but I am pretty sure you could relate too. Often that handsome guy, we only saw once and will probably never see again, that pretty barista, that airport guy....

1.9k wc ; fluff !! ; lil scenario for everyone ; kinda hope y'all can relate my delusional thoughts ; oh and tell me who is ur svt bias that I might start writing more for them <3

~ S.COUPS [에스.쿱스] ~ the airport crush

THE impossible crush for THE leader.

He would be that cool guy who sits in front of you while you wait for the plane, dressed entirely in black, probably wearing a mask and a hat as well. His gaze wanders as he looks around or scrolls on his phone with headphones on.

THE MOMENT when your eyes lock, and only you can see his eyes smiling. No matter if you keep that one eye contact, I'm sure that will happen again.

He might even make an unconscious attempt to get your attention by putting away his mask or moving his hair after putting away his hat to show how attractive he is… Perhaps it's the same for both of you when he nods his head or waves goodbye with his hand as soon as you have to take the plain. Your joy after that eye contact will keep you two awake during the entire journey, wondering if you will meet him again.

~ DINO [디노] ~ the charming waiter

c'mon ik you get me. You are in your favorite cafè and your order is taken by that one charming waiter who is softly smiling and with stunning eyes.

Even though it's your first time meeting him he already caught your attention, even only for how he acts or how he nods and grins while writing down your order (yes, I am aware of how much delusional I am).

Black and white plain clothing, messy hair, and once more, A COMFORTING AND SWEET SMILE. The urge to keep eye contact with him while he is working and serving other tables is clear to everyone.

And I bet he's the kind of guy who would come to your table and make jokes once he felt comfortable around you. Rather than making you feel uncomfortable, he asks about your order how you are doing, or if you will return

..lockey hoping for a yes.

~ DK [도겸] ~ the beach boy

Let me explain. I can't picture him out with no other expressions but SMILING. His big smile, using literally all of the muscles on his face.

On a sunny summer day, DK is on the beach with his friends, and they are all seated in a circle, laughing and enjoying some food.

Then there comes the instant when your eyes lock when his mouth smile slowly disappears and his eyes light up.

A few seconds passed when the two of you first laid eyes on each other, yet it felt like hours. Then, I can picture DK's friends slowly turning around to look at you, as well as your friends, as they begin to move their hands in front of DK's face.

as if to save from the enchantment.

~ THE8 [디에잇] ~ the motorbike's guy

I know it's just a moment but I swear that it is harder than you imagine to forget.

Imagine a young man on a motorcycle who is stopped at a stop sign after slowing down, wearing a dark helmet that matches the color of his eyes and has a clear visor(?), that turns around to look at you. Only a few people were running in the rain, and there weren't many cars in the area.

So you are still watching him watching you as you are under your umbrella. Your eyes locked for less than a second. There were no smiles or any facial gestures.

Under his helmet, he had deep eyes and a charming and veiled smile.

Who knows if he will ever forget that one-eye-staring contact challenge with those eyes of yours?

~ VERNON [버논] ~ the boy in the rain

I can absolutely imagine him forgetting his umbrella every time. Or perhaps it should not have been raining that day, but it was, and you two ended up stuck under a random awning.

His very presence was enough to make you a little nervous—he made no eye contact nor conversation. It occasionally happens that you gaze at his wet jacket or hair and vice versa, you feel his eyes on you one or twice.

But it wasn't a scary presence; quite the contrary. The young man's eyes were partially closed as he moved his feet to the beat of either made-up music or perhaps the sound of raindrops. And with a simple "bye," you wish that curious guy farewell who was so engrossed in his thoughts that he almost failed to notice that it had stopped raining.

~ WOOZI [우지] ~ the idol

Imagine him in a cafe or a library alone, a little while after his debut. Probably writing music or just relaxing on his own.

So you are as well there. Both of you are completely immersed in your work, not paying attention to what you have around you.

As time goes on, you start to become distracted or grow tired and start to look around. You smile as you turn your attention to the boy who is working hard.

Oh, it's time to go! After packing up your things, you see him doing the same. You both proceed to the exit when you unintentionally run into each other. He is the kind of guy that would instantly assist you in gathering your belongings and yourself as well.

You both say thanks and then part ways before leaving.

Imagine learning who he is only later because he is now a famous idol.. who knows if he wrote something about you on the paper he was working on that day…

~ JEONGHAN [정한] ~ the hallway's boy

I am sure that everyone would have a crush on him if they saw him walking around the school. He is the prettiest boy I have ever seen fr !!

He's beautiful and he knows it…and loves playing with this.

Each time your eyes contact, he maintains the expression and smirks a little. After a few days, and much better if you were in the same classes, he would start saying hello to you all the time.

He would know your name too if you were in the same classes with him or even in the same project group. After that, he will be the one screaming out your name, expecting that you will turn around and look at him as you always do.

So now you won't be the only one who constantly glances at someone

~ MINGYU [민규] ~ your traveling companion

This one is really specific I think.

I thought about that one comforting person that you always see while coming back home or going to school/work every morning.

At first, there are no conversations or greetings. At first, you won't even notice, but eventually you both will. As you begin to feel a little more comfortable, even sit near to each other!

So you become friends when you realize that you've begun to worry when he's not there, or when he's late. Greeting one another and possibly having a brief conversation or trading phone numbers or Instagram!!

The best part is still when he introduces you to one of his friends and it's obvious that the friend knows exactly who you are (YES HE TOLD THEM ABOUT YOU).

~ JOSHUA [조슈아] ~ the sporty guy

Someone becomes immediately more attractive if they are passionate about their sport. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

He's not just interested in sports; he excels in them as well. He is the athletic student in the class and he's a gentleman, so… Imagine, during class, going for a run together. I think he's competitive yes, but not the type who is obsessed with winning, so I think he would not mind if you two slowed down or stopped whenever you needed to.

He would be the one encouraging you as you tried your best to avoid passing out while jogging for PE, or he would be the one you are staring at while he is competing; the one who appears to look good under the sun and would definitely smile or wink at you if your eyes happened to meet.

~ SEUGKWAN [승관] ~ the saver

Let's talk about how embarrassing it is to ask for directions when you are completely lost…It happened to me a few days ago in my hometown…

I pictured you having to find a building for a class but it's raining and you have no idea where to go. Seugkwan could be that comforting companion who feels just as lost as you, in my opinion. And it's comforting exactly because you're not lost alone; he's with you.

So you two end up together while searching for where to go.

He would ask a worker there for directions while laughing at the bizarre circumstance and lightening the atmosphere. After finding this out, you would walk together and sit next to each other for the rest of the lesson(s)…

~ HOSHI [호시] ~ the concert's guy

the vibe of a concert. immaculate. And it's even better when you really like the singer or the group because you get to meet all those amazing people who have the same passions as you!

Imagine seeing this boy, alone, waiting in line, looking so gorgeous and dressed up for the concert. Literally, the image of the beauty, with an outfit - maybe a crop top with baggy jeans - matched his makeup. So charming that is impossible to stop looking at him

AND SAME FOR U- While your eyes continue to lock and you smile, you are dying inside from happiness. Hoshi might even approach you to compliment you on how lovely you are and ask you how you feel about the concert,

Oh and Imagine singing along with him to your favorite song without caring about anything else.

~ JUN [준] ~ the friend of a friend

Okay, hear me out. That one moment when a friend of a friend that you have met just like one or two times does something kind and looks so attractive while doing it.

He is at the party where you and your friends are attending. only good moments and loud music; but you realize you need a break, so you choose to spend some time in the garden.

Worrying that you were not feeling well he would go out too, bringing some water for you. He did not say much when he sat next to you and gave you a glass of water. Perhaps at first, there was awkward quiet, but soon you two started talking soothingly about nothing that serious but still comforting.

~ WONWOO [원우] ~ the arcade's boy

I immediately thought about him as the arcade crush. Imagine you and your friends at the arcade having to split up into teams or pairs, and you are missing your partner.

Or imagine being in an amusement park and finding yourself alone in a Ferris wheel, roller coaster, or horror house (perhaps precisely as you wanted!). Then, BOOM, he sits next to you. It could be because there were no more places left…right?

He would be that cool guy who would play with you - you probably would have to make the first move tho…

or you might just be mesmerized by how amazing he is as he plays alone. He might feel the pressure of your gaze, but he wouldn't really mind—or maybe he would even kind of like it;)

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huhniebowl · 1 year

Text

Guilty Pleasure

Elliot x Reader

Warnings: S M U T

a/n: the long and awaited smut is now here...this is what y’all really wanted huh?

i hope you all enjoy this, probably one of my favorite pieces :P

“We—ah shouldn’t be doing t-this.” You stutter in his ear when the tip of his tongue flicks at your nipple. Elliot feels your thighs try to jerk close as they sit on either side of his lap, the muscles trembling against the fabric of his jeans.

Your sweater is bunched up over your chest and rests on the crown of Elliot’s head—chest heaving as you wrap your arms around his neck and cradle the back of his head to pull him closer, lips now sucking on your perky tit.

“Elliot, please, you have a girl—fuck!” Your head lolls back when he snaps his hips up, cock hard enough through his jeans to put delicious pressure on your clit through your sweatpants.

“You talk too damn much,” He mutters into the underside of your chin. He quickly moves his hands up from your ass and into the arch in your back, keeping you from leaning onto the horn. A Range in an empty parking lot at two in the morning, already raises enough suspicion.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He says, slowly moving his hips against yours, “What she doesn't know can’t hurt her.”

Yes, Elliot is aware, that’s probably the shittiest thing he could say and do to another woman, but he can’t help who he yearns for. You’re just everything Jules isn’t. You tempt him without trying, without knowing. If your signs were more evident from the beginning, Elliot could swear right away, that he’d been fucking you rather than Jules. No shame in it at all.

Jules wouldn’t have been a thought, a name that crossed his mind. He had to settle for someone that wasn’t you. And now? Now things are complicated as a result. Now you both are participating in one of the worst betrayals, but you can’t find it in yourselves to care. Not when the object of your desire, the guilty pleasure you’ve both been wanting for months, is finally within reach.

You don’t try to protest much after that; your will to leave wasn’t that strong from the beginning. Instead, you channel all your focus on Elliot and nothing else. Your hands pull his hoodie up from his jeans, fingers running over the dips and ridges on his stomach and chest before settling on his collarbone to take the hoodie off.

Leaning back on his lap, cautious of the horn, you stare down at him, your hair curling at the forehead and lips swollen—sweater falling back down, crumpled, over your torso. God, he can’t wait to fucking destroy you.

Your eyes follow the ink up his arms. The single copper street lamp in the lot acts as a projector for the rain pelting the window, casting a show on the two of you and emitting just enough light for you to see each other.

“Looking so fucked out already, and we haven't even started,” Elliot breathes, “Am I that good?” You groan and press down on his cock, getting impatient. He jolts at the unexpected pressure, your fingers making quick work of his belt buckle.

You throw the metal clasp apart and unzip his jeans, dancing your fingertips over his abdomen—biting the inside of your cheek when he clenches under your feather touches.

“What do you want me to do, Elly?” You mouth at his neck, fingers nipping at his boxers, and now and then brushing over the apparent tent in the cotton.

You feed off praise, orders, and reactions. That realization alone slaps Elliot into a daze, his cock twitching at the thought of you bending in any way he orders you to just so you could please him. He’s going to have so much fun with you.

He spreads his legs further apart and rolls his hips up, peering up at you with hooded lids, lips parted with heavy breathes. Without a word, the anticipation rolling off in waves, Elliot wraps his larger hand around yours—the size difference-making his mouth dry—and slips them down his boxers.

All while keeping eye contact with you, he squeezes your hands around his cock and hisses. He watches you tremble on his lap. The feeling of your clit pulsing on his thigh, gives him all the affirmation he needs to keep going.

“I want you,” he starts,“To keep your hand just like this, and work my cock up and down.” Your eyes stay on his. Top lip twitching.

“Like this?” You whisper, moving your hand just as he instructed, twisting and turning. Elliot groans and uses his free hand to wrap around the headrest, situating himself.

“Yeah, just like that baby,” At the praise, your nipples harden through your sweater. Once again, the buds yearn for some type of relief, and Elliot holds back a chuckle at how sensitive you are.

“Fuck Elliot.” You whimper, your conjoined hands picking up speed. You reach down with your free hand and pull his boxers further down. His heart stutters when you shake your hand from out under his and instead wrap it around his tip to run your thumb over the slit—jerking him faster.

“Mhm, like that, baby. Doing so well for me.” He rasps, arching off the seat and lolling his neck back against the headrest. He grinds up into your fist, his moans the hottest sound, and you feel your pussy leak another glob of arousal.

You keep your eyes on his face, on his reactions. His tiny whimpers.

“Shit, baby. Please don’t stop.” God, this felt so right, you couldn’t help but feel like he was meant for you. That you’re the only one deserving to see him like this. Feel him like this.

Lost in the feeling of everything you, Elliot gasps when you suddenly press your lips on his collarbone, peppering kisses up his throat before biting down on the spot under his ear. A bruise sucked on his skin and the pleasure shooting right to his cock.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. Stop.” He shakily tries to push you back, the only place he wants to cum is inside you. Nowhere else. But you being the eager slut you are, keen to see him fall apart, doesn’t listen, instead picking up your pace and sucking another bruise on his neck.

Disobedient.

Elliot grips the back of your head by your hair, and with his other hand, yanks your wrist away—squeezing it tightly.

“I told you to stop.” He mutters, eyeing your frazzled state. Poor baby, you haven’t gotten any relief.

“I bet your pussy is soaking right now. Clit swollen and sticky, aching for my tongue.”

“Yes, please.” You mewl, trying to tug his hand into your sweats. Elliot tuts at your disability to listen and pulls his hand away from your wrist to wrap it around your throat.

“Do you think you deserve my mouth on your pussy? After that stunt you pulled? You really think you deserve it? Hm?”

Your eyes gloss over, pleading, begging him for something. Anything.

“Please?” You whisper, hands shaking at your side. That’s the only word you could utter. He dwindled you down into a pleading mess. A whimpering, begging whore. And you’d be lying if you said you weren’t loving every second of it. Elliot tilts his head to the side in false thought, eyes raking over every inch of your flushed face. He wants to remember you like this.

“Come on. You can do much better than that.” He pouts and uses the hand that was once gripping your hair to press down on your clit through your sweats.

Tears build at your waterline, threatening to spill when you buck up. The night was nowhere near over, but you’re already feeling neglected. You just wanted him to relieve you, preferably by being stuffed with his cock, but this will have to do until he was done playing with you. You could do it. You waited this long for him. You could be good for him. You will be good for him.

“I’ll do anything, Elliot, anything. Please touch me. Fuck me, something.” You cry, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.” Elliot grins a Cheshire cat-like grin, loving how much he dumbed you down to the point where your thought process is nothing but him.

“There we go, baby, now was that so hard?” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, reaching down to the side of his seat for the lever and pushing it back.

You tumble on top of him with a yelp but can barely process the new position before he’s tugging off your pants. He tosses them to the side and slaps your bare ass. The sting mixing with the sudden rush of cold air on your skin, makes you tremble. You move to rid your panties, but Elliot slaps your hands away,

“Leave em’. You look so pretty with them on.” He moves to lay down under and nips at your lips, “Now up.”

You don’t waste a second, scrambling up until your clothed pussy is hovering right over his face, hands gripping the back seat headrest. The heat from your pussy radiates over his face, and Elliot blows cool air. He chuckles when your hips buck up.

“So pretty.” He whispers, hooking a finger to pull your panties to the side to place a kiss on your clit. Then another, then he starts languidly making out with your pussy. He’s teasing, his mouth right on your clit but not necessarily focused there.

You whine, mouth open and eyes screwed shut when his mouth works sloppily over you. The sounds make your stomach clench, but it’s just not enough. And Elliot knows, it’s not enough.

“Come on!” You moan impatiently, knuckles turning white against the seat. Elliot chuckles and pulls your panties fully off your legs. He sticks his tongue out, wraps his arms around each of your thighs, then pulls you down on his tongue.

“Ride my face,” He mumbles against your pussy, and you immediately start grinding your hips.

Your hands get clammy against the leather, and the lewd sounds of Elliot slurping you up echo throughout the car. You’re not sure what you're begging for anymore, Elliot’s name chanting past your lips like a prayer.

He has a pattern that he keeps up, sucking on your clit, before twisting his way between your folds, then sticking his tongue out and curving the end up firmly for you to ride on. It’s all too much, the white-hot coil tightening in your abdomen quicker than you would like. Your thighs start to shake again, and you're clenching around nothing, hips picking up speed. Elliot groans into you, tongue breaking pattern to trace each letter of his name.

Your face is pressed harshly against the headrest, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you yell.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck I’m gonna cum!” And right when your coil was going to snap, right when you swear you could see the end of your sweet release, Elliot twists your thighs off his face and over his shoulders—flipping them sideways and fully propelling you into the backseat. You lay there dumbfounded, both too confused and aggravated from a neglected orgasm.

“What the fuck, Elliot?” You curse, watching him crawl over the armrest and situate himself in the seat next to you. Boxers and jeans gone.

“Did you really think I would let you cum that easily?” He arches an eyebrow. “After the shit you pulled?” His nose, down to his chin gleam with your juices.

He notices your stare and flicks his tongue out, licking his lips and around his mouth. Making a show out of it.

“Mhm, so sweet.” He downright moans, and you shiver. The entire thing was nasty, obscene. And you wanted, needed more. He pats his thighs, and you immediately climb on top of his lap. Wrapping your arms around his neck again, and pulling him down so his lips hover over yours.

“You gonna fuck me now?” You whisper against them, his hot breath fans over your face when he lets out a soft “Fuck.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He muses against your lips, “Want me to claim your pretty pussy as mine?” He reaches down between your bodies and presses two fingers on your clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Look at that, you’re trembling over just my fingers.” Your thighs jerk close when he slips two of them inside, breath caught.

“Elly please. Need you inside. Wanna ride you.” Elliot laughs, pulls his fingers out and taps your lips. You open like the good girl your are for him and suck on his fingers, tasting yourself.

“Such a slut for me aren’t you?” He grins, and pats your thigh for you to lift up so he can line himself with your pussy. With his hands now on your hips, he guides you down to his cock. His thighs tensing at the porn-worthy moan you let out at the feeling of finally being full. Elliot has to resit the urge of fucking you dumb when he looks up to see you dazed. Hips slowly moving to build up a rhythm.

“Go on and show me why it should’ve been you from the beginning.”

#elliot #elliot smut #elliot fanfic #elliot imagines #elliot imagine #euphoria #euphoria smut #elliot euphoria #elliot euphoria imagine #elliot smut euphoria #dominic fike imagine #dominic fike imagines #dominic fike smut #dominic fike fan fiction #dominic fike fic #elliot fan fiction euphoria #elliot fan fiction #smut

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w1ldthoughts · 7 months

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Roads Less Traveled

A/n: I am working on some anon requests but I figured we could use a little fluffy pick me up after the loss yesterday.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this? It’s a 13 hour drive.”

You laugh, watching him put your bags in the trunk. “Yes I’m aware. You’ve only mentioned it 100 times.”

He takes his hat off, running his hands through his hair and firmly placing the Nike cap back on his head. “I just want to make sure you know what we’re about to get into.”

“I’ve made it through watching your finger explode on national television and now I get to meet your family during bye week. This is the longest time we’ve ever spent together consecutively so I’m excited and totally ready for this.”

Your boyfriend opens the car door for you with a knowing look, “you just want my mom to pull out the photo albums don’t you?”

“The only baby Justin pictures I’ve seen are from the Chargers TikTok babe, it’s not nearly enough. You were so adorable.”

“Were? As in past tense? Ouch.” He pressed a hand against his chest, biting back a smile.

“I mean you can still be adorable if you wanna be. Personally I was leaning more towards extremely handsome, maybe even…sexy?”

His face is turning more red by the minute and you can’t help yourself from digging a deeper hole, pinching his cheek as he jokingly whines for you to stop. “My handsome, gorgeous, adorable man. Come here.” You lean over the console and he closes the distance between you, immediately smiling into the kiss. He outwardly hated compliments but sometimes you swore you could hear his heart sing when you praised him in any way, especially his looks. It not-so-secretly made him feel giddy inside.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” He whispers, pulling away from the kiss and starting the car. “Okay let’s go over who you’re going to meet. This is the big test.”

One of his hands finds itself resting on your thigh, leaving you to peek at the splint on his middle finger on the hand that was still on the steering wheel. Sometimes you wondered how much it must hurt after every game, the constant physical contact with so many weeks in the season to go and your boyfriend’s determination was only growing by the minute. He had no plans of slowing down.

Bringing yourself back into the present moment, you wracked your brain trying to remember all the names.“There’s obviously your family, your mom and dad. Patrick and Mitch. Then your friends Tate, Charlie and Jack, who will be at Charlie’s football game.”

“That was perfect, you’re definitely ready for them. I do apologize in advance though if my parents are overwhelming. Haven’t exactly brought anyone home in a while, well since high school really. And now they’re convinced I made you up and I’m on my way to dying alone.” His smile reaches his ears, exposing a dimple.

The fact that he was bringing you was a big deal already but to know that he’d only really done this a couple times made you feel special. Even if he didn’t really say it, he was falling for you just as much as you were falling for him.

Justin pulls you out of your thoughts when he asks “are you hungry at all? Because I’m thinking about stopping somewhere. I’m starving.”

“Oh yeah, lunch sounds good, I think I saw a Wingstop sign towards this next exit but I can look it up.”

You opted to sit in the car and eat, talking about what you wanted to do and see in Eugene.

“I want the works. Walk me down memory lane and definitely take me to Nike. Feels illegal not to go to a Nike store where it all started. I’m sure you’re looking to add to your endless collection anyway.”

He gives you a pointed look. “It was an endless collection until I met and started dating a thief. Do you know how many of my sweatshirts I found in your closet this morning helping you pack? I was looking for the purple one for weeks.”

That one makes you cackle as you force him to switch you spots so he can get a driving break. “Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault your clothes are so big and comfortable. And anytime you’re gone I just throw one on and it’s like you’re always with me.”

“Nice save…Catwoman.”

You scoff. “I prefer Robin Hood actually, you know take from the rich and give to the poor. You’re rich so I take from you and give it to myself, the poor.”

“That would work better if I didn’t get most of that stuff for free but that is a pretty solid comparison.” He chuckles softly, nodding his head along to the song. “I didn’t know you were an 80s rock fan.”

“I didn’t either but you played this a few weeks ago while we were making dinner and I’ve been listening to it ever since. You know…I won’t tell anyone if you sing.”

Justin immediately starts shaking his head, “no shot. You’re not doing this to me.” He groans as you turn up the music, singing along to lyrics as he looks on, seemingly unamused.

To your surprise he matches your volume at the chorus, both of you screaming out the words to Pour a Little Sugar on Me by Def Leppard.

“What happens on the road trip stays on the road trip,” he makes you pinky swear.

A few hours later he motions for you to take the next exit, claiming he wants to show you something. It was the perfect time to watch the sunset with a view of Mt. Shasta in the distance. His non-injured hand held yours, walking out to see it while also stretching your legs.

“This is the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen.”

He turned to you with a warm smile, taking it all in. “Yeah...me too.”

You smacked him on the arm without turning to meet his gaze, already feeling his eyes burning holes in the side of your head. “Justin focus. You’re not even looking at the scenery right now.”

“Sorry I just got really distracted by the view right in front of me, it’s kind of become my favorite.” He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head. You were still getting used to the “beard” he’d been sporting.

Turning around in his arms, you finally look up at him, the sight still taking your breath away. “You’re my favorite view too. Wouldn’t mind waking up to you for a while. The rest of my life even.” The last part comes out as a whisper you hope he didn’t catch.

But he did.

“Really? You—you see us doing this, like getting married and spending our lives together?” His lips crunch into a half smile and you want to kiss him senseless.

“Yeah, I do. Which is funny because I’ve never actually been with someone that I see a real future with.”

“Neither have I.” He holds your face in his hands, bringing your lips together softly, the kiss left his entire body buzzing. “Until now.”

#justin herbert #justin herbert x reader #justin herbert imagine #justin herbert fluff #nfl imagine #Justin Herbert fanfic

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sapphorror · 4 months

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Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening

Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.

Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.

Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).

Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)

Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).

The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.

Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.

“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric. I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.

Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.

Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming.

Irkens are collapsible, apparently

#invader zim #zim #dib #gaz #meta #just a little #my meta #iz posting #zadp #natterings #for the record i am not unaware of the irony in saying zims the lunatic you see coming #when the empire was ultimately surprised by the worst of his crimes enough times over that he was able to commit them all #and even now after impending doom 1 and the trial he is STILL consistently underestimated in the damage he can continue to do #whereas dib has spent his entire life being called crazy by literally everyone he knows (and many he doesnt)#all for ENTIRELY the wrong reasons #but hey #thats exactly the kind of counterintuitive comedy that the iz universe runs on #anyway i may or may not do this for more episodes as i rewatch with my sibling #or honestly just in general #because there is nothing i enjoy more than pointing out tiny details that are entertaining to no one besides me #i've always been especially fond of the wettening though #like literally always dating back to when i was 7 #probably earlier but my memories only go back so far #its very fun seeing how wildly the specifics of how i love this show have drifted over the years #favorite episodes. favorite characters (i mean always gaz on some level but the ones that plague me the most)#but it is sometimes even better to observe the very specific points that have remained constant #if still evolving in complexity

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starwrighter · 9 months

Text

I am not a baby!! (Yes you are)

(Ao3) (Masterpost) (Previous) (Next)

(The eleventh chapter,)

The hatchling lay still, motionless inside his little building. His tiny body pressed against the see-through barrier wrapped in one of the creations he built. Did he strangle himself? Had Damian scared the hatchling into killing itself? The Hatchling didn't seem scared when he'd attacked him earlier, but fear could show itself in various ways. Some tended to freeze up, some fled like cowards, and others fought for their lives with every fiber of their being..

Damian was gigantic compared to the hatchling.. The hatchling's entire body could fit in Damians palms. Something, admittedly, he'd foolishly thought wouldn't be distressing for the hatchling.

Pressing his face against the transparent barrier, Damian listened to the chaos engulfing the bond. Not the usual idiotic rambling and tease that often clogged up the bond: grief, mourning, an overwhelming sadness from his entire family.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," That's all Damian could really say. If he'd stayed away, avoiding contact like father instructed, would the hatchling still be alive?

"Are you sure he's dead?" Dick questioned.

The hatchling skin was pale, lips tinged blue. Unmoving, chest stilled, no sign of the rise and fall of breathing .

"What else could he be, Grayson?!" He snapped, Dick went silent.

"Sleeping...?"

His gills flared, tail snapping, seething through clenched teeth.

"Do you think I'm an idio-" He started, rage cut out by a sudden movement.

The hatchling had rolled over, throwing his chubby arm over his face. A content yawn as he took a slow breath, color returning to the hatchling's lips.

"..."

"He's sleeping, isn't he?" His face grew hot,

"Shut up! His lips were blue, and he wasn't breathing! You would have freaked out too!" He snapped, watching intently at the slow rise and fall of the baby's chest.

"Absolutely, without a doubt, instant heart attack," Dick replied quickly, a tsunami of relief and concern clogging up the bond.

"Why did he stop breathing?"

"Babies do that sometimes Damian, It happened a lot with you whenever you slept," Father soothed. "Sent everyone into a panic no matter how many times it happened,"

"Karma," A barrage of his siblings coughed out.

"Are his lips still blue?"

"No," The hatchling's skin was still pale, but his lips were a light pink. Tiny hands clenched into fists, contrasting the peaceful expression settled on the child's face. A cold radiated through where the hatchling’s hand touched the barrier. Not corpse cold, more like poking your head above water during a raging storm. A closer comparison would be the barren wastelands of the void or the eerie depths of the lost river where he spent his early childhood.

The child seemed to be thriving just fine despite being out of his designated environment. From watching, they could tell the babies liked to spend their early days in shallow water, sometimes above water, before they migrated deeper and deeper. It was quite possible he’d move down to the lost river or the deeper side of the grand reef when he got too big for the shallows.

Father would be elated to have a baby swimming around in the reef. However, they’d have to guard the lost river entrances to prevent him from wandering. Although it was one of the coldest places in the crater, it was way too close to the lava zones, and even closer to the precursor settlements.

“I think he might be a cold-dwelling species,” His family would find out regardless if he told them, and it was better for them to be aware of possible dangers before it was too late.

“Oh, do you think he’ll-“

“Not that cold,” The child was nowhere near the temperature of the Arctic. Temperatures far below zero and constant snow and hail storms would be too much for him, let alone traveling through the void to get there. Sure, the predators were smaller over there, but they were much more aggressive, and precursor artifacts and buildings were littered around the tundra no matter where you went.

The child slept for hours. Concern nagging at him the longer he remained unconscious. Father reassured him that he’d slept a lot as a baby too, but he’s doubtful any of them had ever been asleep this long. The sun had begun to rise again, shallows warming from the sun. It was under his impression that babies needed to eat every few hours or so. It had been much longer than that, and Damian feared he would begin to starve in his sleep if he remained unconscious much longer.

Tap…Tap…Tap

Pitch-black claws scratched the barrier, the hatchling rolling away from the noise, arms guarding his little ears.

Tap…Tap…Tap

Blue eyes flew open, head whipping to face him.“AngeR,”

@ashoutinthedarkness @avelnfear @meira-3919 @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @hugsandchaos @blep-23 @zeldomnyo @bytheoldwillowtree @justwannabecat @shepherdsheart @starlightcat04 @stargazing-bookwyrm @pupstim @dragongoblet @noxcheshire

#dp x dc #dpxdc #subnautica au #Damian keeps tapping on the glass #Danny is pissed

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bronx-bomber87 · 3 months

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Good evening fandom! Welcome to my inaugural mini review post. Holy hell I can’t believe we’re finally here. These probably won’t be as detailed as normal like I mentioned. Mini review is the goal. It’ll be initial thoughts and feelings. Which will be fun cause all the other seasons other than S5 I had ton of time to reflect on moments. These thoughts for S6 could change when I rewatch the season for review purposes this summer. The exciting thing is having those first reactions. That's what these will be.

So you're getting hot off the presses thoughts haha I just watched it couple hours ago. These are thoughts I had while it was happening. With some editing to make it readable ha Want my reactions be as authentic as possible with these. Why I avoid spoilers tbh. Be interested in seeing what everyone else’s are as well. The gif library was an absolute turd so I didn't get to use all the gifs that were made yet. So I made some. Anyways this so friggin exciting to delve into so let’s get started.

6x01 Strike Back

Tim got scruffier from the finale to now-and I’m here for it. Mm. Plus he's in Metro gear. Phew Lord. Something about scruffy Tim gets me going. Adore them riding together automatically after their battle. I truly love it. The little things I continually love with them. Also LOVING the Metro call sign. Yum If this going to be his call sign all season I am about it.

Oh my lord why is her sitting at his desk so squee worthy to me? It’s getting me all in my feels. I love that Lucy can just use his office as her own. So cute using it to steal it for some study time. I love this so very much. Then her asking if they can ride together so he can quiz her? Tim doesn’t hesitate for a moment before saying yes.

Still amazes me we’re in the place with them. The Tim of old would’ve groaned and moaned about such a task. He jumps right on it for her. Ready to help her out. Even though he’s not sure how much it’s gonna do. Clearly very aware Primm is out to get her. That is common knowledge now.

Lucy is right when she says it sucks. That she has to battle this and face possible wild cards.. It isn’t fair when she's earned her spot more than most. Fought and clawed for everything she's done in this department. Definitely more than Nolan... Hey wouldn't be a review if I didn't pot shot Nolan would it? lol I love Tim finding a solution for them. Saying they can take out do the box calls all day. Widen her knowledge a bit on it. Sharpen her skills with odd calls.

I love her grateful smile when she says 'Thank you.' Loves this man. Damnit they’re so cute their banter coming out of his office is on point. Tim saying she learns best when she’s pissed off. I mean if that isn’t her rookie experience with him in a sentence. Lucy saying this feels like she is giving him permission to be an ass. Heh it kinda is no matter what Tim says.

You know he kinda loves being able to make her his boot again in some form. He is going to enjoy himself with this. There is no doubt about it. That's why he's doing that smile of his. Lucy calling him out knowing this man so well. Pointing her finger and all. God I love these idiots so much. Tim trying to tell her just his smile. Uh huh sure it is Tim.... Lucy following after him with a smile of her own. These dopes I've missed them so damn much.

I’m very much loving Tim has not really shaved in 6 weeks ha. The scruffy remains and I’m excited about it. Lucy is starting to question asking Tim to help her. We all know she learns best from that man sitting next to her though. I also always enjoy when she gets to drive. Another micro shift that has changed that I love so much. Her heart eyes when he says Angela’s cop brain is just booting up LOL Loves this goober of man.

Lucy absolutely losing it and going on a rant of epic proportions had me rolling. LOL Massive emotional downward spiral happening here. I’m dying as I watch Tim take it in. God Eric the master of expressions crushing it again. This was a huge one for her holy crap. Nuclear really. Well done Melissa getting all that in with one breath basically. By the time she’s done I’m cackling at Tim’s expression. LMAO Oh my god these two. God I’ve missed them so much it pained me.

Lucy knowing Tim's reply without even looking at him. Just epic married status at this point. Doesn’t even have to look at him or for Tim to say anything. It’s already there because of that crazy good connection they have. How deeply they know one another. It’s so good. Tim being the smart man he is says nothing. Lucy knowing he’s thinking it haha

Lucy coming to conclusion she will do crazy wild card during the day and the manual at night. She will sleep when it's over LOL Tim shaking his head. Knowing there is nothing he can say right now that'll make this better. Or to derail her crazy train of thought. This is like S1/S2 them with the added benefit of them being together now. It’s glorious.

Getting serious Plain Clothes Day vibes from this episode as well. Except this time Lucy light years away from who she was then. Confidently reciting what she’s going to do Tim nodding along. Tim wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t rock her boat a little though. Lucy getting in her head about the crime scene now. Tim isn’t wrong she did tick all the obvious boxes. That the point of today is looking for wild cards. That’s what he wants her to engage that brilliant brain of her's in. It's why he's here.

To zero in on the 'Out of the box thinking'. Poor Lucy spirals out not being able to decide if she wants his help or not. I ADORE Tim telling her it’s ok to not know the answer. Not shaming her in the least just needing her to make a call. God how far we’ve come. Tim pushes her because he knows that is when she learns best. Trying to add a little urgency to her decision making. Unfortunately it backfires. I kinda loved them calling each other by their ranks in this heated exchange.

Lucy is so flustered it’s giving me PCD vibe once again in the best way. The sprinklers turn on and Lucy panics. There’s the wild card….We watch as a bullet leaves this man’s body and enters the storm drain never to be seen again. Lucy being so very disappointed in herself. It’s reminiscent of the disappointment she showed in s1 but only now she's far more experienced. So it hurts much more now….Oh Lucy my heart. You poor thing. Couldn’t have gone more wrong if she tried.

I can’t believe they played clown music upon her entrance.... Beyond cruel but that's cops. Always taking shots when people mess up spectacularly. Tim trying not laugh.... Babe she is spiraling right now maybe don’t lol Poor thing I would be mortified too. I love how both Tim and Lucy smile when they see Wes and the wee one. My heart. She wants Wes's opinion and he just crushes her with logic. Ugh She needs a hug. Bad day for our girl.

Lucy continues to break my heart as they sit in front of the crime scene. She is on the verge of tears. Verge of a breakdown it feels like as well. Killing me softly. Saying she should skip the detectives exam. My girl. Tim doesn't want her to give up. I will say this fight I feel like I would be Tim. Trying to be so supportive it’s come off as agreeing with her she can’t do it. When really he was just trying to be supportive of whatever she wants.

Can't win for losing right now Timothy. She is in a bad way right now. Lucy has some weight to her argument though. if I was her in this moment I would feel the same way. If I’m in a bad headspace I need reassurances. So I can relate to both of them in this fight. It’s not a fun time for either of them. Tim is still learning that emotional depth he needs to have with her in these moments.

Being supportive has worked before so he's not sure why it's backfiring right now. They’re solid but always room to grow beauty of them. Lucy spots someone pull up to crime scene crying. She has them peel out with Tim not really understanding why. Lucy catching her digging through her trash. She ends up getting a confession. Phew Well done Luce.

Oooh this final scene. Oh my damn lord. This is some PRIMO productive angst holy hell. Eric and Melissa came out swinging with it. I knew they were going to have one more scene about it. I just didn't think it would be this explosive. I adore Tim picking up on how short she is with him. Grabbing her by the arm and confronting her. Growth continuous growth for them both continues to show. Love it. Look at Tim being the one to come at this. I’m so proud of him.

Throwing her words from 5x21 somewhat back at her. Saying this isn’t going to work if she isn’t honest with him. Then Lucy really lays into him. Now do I think he purposely undermined her? No I don’t. Not ever. That’s not in his DNA to do that to someone he loves. I was deeply hurt for him when she suggested this. You can see how hurt he is when she says as such. He’s getting emotional and it makes me as well. I just wanna hug him.

Tim as we know is a DEEPLY loyal person. Also one of my main relations to him as a character. To purposely hurt someone they love isn’t fathomable to a loyal person. It's unthinkable. You have to hurt them first. To undermine Lucy would be to hurt her so he would never. To be accused of such by your favorite person? That cut's so insanely deep for him. I haven’t seen him this hurt since the 'Tim Test' line from her in 4x08. I’m legit wounded for him. He is so upset she could think that of him.

Now Lucy might be onto something with the subconscious part. He could’ve done it not realizing what he was doing. Because love isn’t rational. Man is hardwired to protect her and want to keep her safe. So I could see this especially with her psych background. I think this is solid guess at what happened. Now was this the right time to lash out at him for Isabel stuff? I don’t know…

Felt like a low blow when he was already down for the count. She is throwing him daggers with her eyes most of this conversation. Feels like its more than just the UC right now but that's just my guess at this point. Let's not forget she was having UC doubts towards the end of last season.

Now do they need to have these fights and conversations? HELL YES. My god this subject needs to be discussed. Especially with how 5x20-5x21 were. Want to reiterate this is my first impression. I was literally writing this as I experienced their fight for first time. When I rewatch it this summer this could change. My POV could shift. But right now I see a man who only thought he had her back and was raked across the coals in this moment.

So for me right now in this moment I feel like Lucy had pent up frustrations and took it out on Tim. The protective side of me for him isn’t pleased with that tbh. Doesn't mean I love Lucy any less. I adore her so much. You all know that. But my gut leaned towards Tim in this fight. That may be bias idk but it’s how I felt when it was said and done. Tim was very very defensive when she brought up Isabel. Which hasn't happened in awhile. But his emotions were heightened and he was on the defensive before they'd reach the topic of her.

Lucy basically kicked him while he was down and he felt it. I'm not discounting her feelings at all. She is allowed to feel overwhelmed. Has every right to be. She is STRESSED and it is coming out in all kinds of ways. Ways that aren't like her. I think she stewed on this thought the ENTIRE shift and it came out in the worst way. Which also isn't like her. What she did had him defaulting back to old school Tim. Cutting off the conversation before more emotions were to be had or he said something he would regret.

Basically cut the fight off at the knees and walked away. Lucy’s face says it all when he walks away. She wasn’t expecting that. Shocked he just left her like that. Oh Lucy, you wounded him more than once and he retreated HARD. Leaving her standing there wondering what the hell just happened? God this is so good though everyone. This is the type of angst I'm all for. What a way to start the season off hot damn. Hurts so good angst to get us going. I could not be more excited for where we go this season. Feel free to comment on this. Love to chat with you all about this. All uncharted territory for us all. We're in for quite the ride.

~~~

Side notes-non Chenford

Who are these friggin people? They’re insanely ruthless. Like Rosalind level ruthless in how they just dispose of people. Sending two their team out as a distraction to be blown up. Jesus. Then sniping their own guy. They’re smart but cold af. Then killing who I thought was the boss at the end. Shit. Consider me intrigued.

I liked the 6 weeks later. Makes sense need to do a time jump.

Celina being more afraid of Tim than Harper. LOL little does she know they’re basically the same person haha

Poor Aaron wants to be back in the game and can’t be. I agree with Grey he’s not ready even if he thinks he is.

God I love Nyla Harper. Took that mofo out like the complete bad ass she is. Came with repercussions which made me sad for her.

Angela being more excited to see burritos than her husband lmao I love this woman.

Feeling little potential flirty action for Aaron and his therapist.

#Caitlin's Mini Reviews #chenford #S6 #6x01 Strike Back #the rookie 6x01 #otp: doing my job #otp: unless it is #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o’neil

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poppadom0912 · 9 months

Note

Hi! You have so many good Chicago stories! I had an idea for a Will Halstead fic, if you'd be interested... OC/Reader is a nurse at Med, she and Will are a (newish?) couple. She has been sick or hurt, but isn't telling Will, to avoid worrying him - Sharon (or someone) has been on his ass, for something he didn't do of course, but he's been under a microscope, so she doesn't want to bother or distract him - until she passes out or ends up in an OR (depending on the illness/injury) and he finds out after the fact... Heavy on the angst is always good ;)

A/N: I'm a sucker for angst. Hope this is good enough. I tried researching as accurately as possible but there might be inaccuracies.

I'm posting this is celebration of not failing my exams which means no resitting! I didn't get the high grades I wanted but we move on. Enjoy!! Hope this is good enough.

Warnings: Canon-typical injuries, blood, angst w a happy ending, surgery

*****

Becoming a nurse was inevitable for you because it was the next best thing after a doctor and you didn't want to go through all those extra years of learning and debt.

You were born with a congenital heart defect as a result of your mother poorly caring for her diabetes during pregnancy. All your life, your parents had been on top of your health, always dragging you to specialists and making sure you were still taking your meds.

You moved states several years ago and now you weren't constantly reminded of the defect you were born with.

There were times though when you did get forgetful and Will never complained about your bad trait that you couldn't handle, he shrugged it off and made sure your health was one hundred percent.

Your relationship was in the honeymoon phase, six months in you were both decently comfortable. Everyone was aware of your relationship but you both agreed to keep work at work and home at home.

Recently, Will was under extra scrutiny from Sharon because of a small incident that happened in the ED when his brother rolled up bleeding from his shoulder. No one could blame him for his reaction, it was completely justified but that hospital were being asses and wouldn't let go.

Following this, your interactions at work decreased at your suggestion to make things a little easier for him. And at first, it was working but then it just got straight up frustrating.

All of a sudden, following the intense summer heatwave, everyone's workload doubled and your hours never lined up. You'd be leaving and he'd be preparing for his second double shift of the week.

And things only got worse from there. You were so busy because of the nurse shortages that your priorities began shifting, your health dwindling down the list.

But no one needed to know that.

*****

Week One

"And that's me done, you ready to break?" Will asked, setting aside the tablet on the desk. You both took your breaks together as much as you could, any time you could get together you would take.

"Yes I am." You nodded, slipping your hand into his as you began walking out of the ED. "I remember someone promising coffee from the cart outside."

Will chuckled, rolling his eyes at the reminder of the expensive coffee sitting outside that you loved. Just as he was going to reply, Maggie shouting your name stopped him.

Sighing, your heart felt heavy both figuratively and literally. With a sheepish smile, you pecked him on the cheek with a promise to catch him later on during shift.

Not being able to get a word in, Will simply watched you scurry off to help the next incoming patient, leaving him to change directions towards the cafeteria.

*****

Week two

You should've been more attentive but being short of breath after a run wasn't uncommon. It was early morning and Will's side of the bed was empty so you took what used to be a daily run alone.

As the day progressed, you started feeling tired and your fatigue progressed. It should've been the first sign to you that you needed to slow down and take care of yourself but the next shooting in Chicago just couldn't wait.

"Y/N, are you okay?" April asked, standing besides you with a new file in hand. "You look pale."

"I'm fine." You assured her, nodding as you licked your drying lips. "And before you ask, Will doesn't know and doesn't need to be interrupted, he has a patient in the ICU."

April backed away apprehensively, always trying to check up with you whenever time permitted. Maybe she was also to blame for not being more forceful with her concerns.

It wasn't her fault that she forgot you had a heart disease.

*****

Week three

"I love you so much." You muttered against his forehead before stepping away to leave the dark bedroom.

Will stirred slightly at the contact, shifting under the covers and further messing up his curls you so badly wanted to delve your fingers into but you were on a time crunch.

Just as you were leaving the room, your chest clenched, pain suddenly overtaking you. Clutching onto the door frame, your grip slacked and your bag dropped causing Will to wake up.

"What's wrong?" Will asked in his half awake state, completely disheveled. He was blinking the sleep away while he turned to you and tried to see what was wrong but failed due to severe sleep deprivation.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He continued, voice hoarse like it usually was after a deep sleep

For some reason, you struggled to form words, your chest feeling as though it was being stabbed repeatedly.

And for some reason, you couldn't come up with a logical excuse and you stupidly left without a word to your lover.

*****

Week four

You couldn't ignore it anymore.

It felt like your body was starting to give up on you. You were constantly tired and out of breath and the chest pains never let up, at times, they even doubled and felt worse than the worst of your period cramps.

The biggest flashing red warning sign should've been when you fainted in the bathroom after your shower.

You came home shattered from your 24 hour shift. Just as you walked in the door, Will was leaving for his 48 hour shift. At this point, you really felt like the world was against you.

You were kinda like roommates more than romantic partners. You were barely at home together and at work, you tried to keep interactions to a minimum after the small incident that the board was elevating ridiculously.

Waking up on the bathroom rug, your body felt numb almost paralysed. It was like what movies described comas to be but your chest was still pulsating in pain.

You weren't being a really good nurse because you simply got up, drank some water and ate some food before sleeping it off.

*****

Week five

The silence was suffocating.

The two of you finally got more than two minutes together but words somehow failed you.

With droopy eyes and furrowed brows, your hands itched to grab the blue scrubs covering your chest. If it wasn't for your boyfriend sitting opposite you, you would've been hunched over the sinks in the women's room.

"What's wrong?" It was a question but with that tone, it felt more like a demand. His two words hit you hard, your eyes dragging from the table up to his big brown eyes filled with nothing but eternal love and concern. "And don't say nothing cause that's clearly bullshit."

And for some reason, you flinched.

Licking your chapped lips, you scrunched your eyes closed at the pain encasing your heart. Despite being back on your medication, the pain didn't cease.

"Y/N? Baby-"

"CODE SILVER. CODE SILVER IN THE ED."

*****

Today

For the past week, Will was hypervigilant about his work. Peter kalmik was never his biggest fan so it didn't help he was constantly making his presence known along with the more power holding board members.

You hated how he no longer fought his case and he just conformed, keeping his head buried in the sand and distanced himself from those he cared about.

It got to such a point that when Jay came in with only work intentions, Will physically forced himself to stay well away.

You were so caught up in your concern for him that you neglected your medication on the kitchen counter.

The pain today all of a sudden increased tenfold in the middle of shift. You were helping Doris turn over a treatment room, listening as she talked about her family drama that you loved to hear about when you felt the world come to an abrupt stop.

Before you knew it, breath escaped you and darkness enveloped you.

“Y/N?!” Doris shouted, going around the bed and crouching down besides your unconscious body.

As she started checking your pulse and your breathing, Connor ran in with Maggie in tow having witnessed you fall from the nurses desk.

In a flurry of rushed movements, you were placed on a bed as your friends searched for the cause of your unconscious state. Out of the blue, Maggie spoke up, reminding everyone of your heart condition.

Equipped with the new but old information, the cardiothoracic surgeon was now more than confident he was able to help you.

"Whose her emergency contact? Is it still her parents or has it been changed to Will?" Connor asked the charge nurse as they started wheeling the gurney towards the elevators. They needed to get you into surgery as soon as possible before you deteriorated.

"Good question."

"Page him anyways."

"Already on it."

*****

"I'm a horrible boyfriend."

"No you're not."

"All the signs were there and I missed them."

"We did too."

"I know Connor is one of the best but what if-"

"I'm going to stop you right there." Maggie cut him off, looking at him sternly, eerily resembling the face of a mother telling off her child. "This is no ones fault and you know that, stop punishing yourself for something no one could control."

Will opened his mouth to interject but stopped himself when Maggie held her hand up. "Yes, maybe Y/N should've taken better care of herself but as a doctor, you know that this surgery was inevitable anyways."

"It's better that she was already in the hospital and not home alone where no one would've noticed till you finished in another eight hours." Maggie continued, being more gentle as she got her point across. She was just as concerned but for everyone else's sake, she could be their pillar.

"Look at her Will." Maggie said, gently rubbing him on the back, hopefully bringing him some comfort. "She's in the best hands."

And of course Will knew that, he wouldn't say it to Connor's face but the man was a heck of a surgeon. There was no one else he would want operating on you but he was simply unnerved to no end.

He couldn't wipe off this icky feeling he had. It lurked around him like a shadow and stuck to him like a stain. He felt like a failure - he was unable to help you as both a doctor and a boyfriend - what good was he?

News spread of your collapse around the hospital and as an automatic response, the hospital board stepped metres away from Will, almost like he was sick with a deathly contagious disease.

It was so stupid that it was funny.

Will wanted to rip his hair out. How he was even standing watching your surgery was beyond him right now. He felt sick to his stomach at the sight of your chest cracked open, your heart just there for the world to see.

He never felt so useless before.

*****

Waking up was one of the most confusing scenarios you've ever been in. The last thing you remembered was being in the ED with Doris before blinking and the next thing you knew, you were waking up in recovery.

Your body felt like the heaviest gym weights were sat on you. Your mouth unbelievably dry as your eyes squinted in the dim lighting, trying to look around the room for any sign of life.

And right by your bedside, sleeping in a very awkward position was the man you considered the love of your life.

It must've been the movement of your head, you literally turning your head less than 90 degrees that woke him up because without any further prompting, Will was no longer dead to the world.

Instantly, he was alive and alert, no trace of sleep anywhere on his face as he made eye contact with you.

He felt as light as a feather to see you awake, the biggest weight being lifted off his chest from the relief that nothing went wrong despite knowing Connor made no mistake at all.

"Pulmonary valve stenosis." Was the first thing Will said, easily recognising the confusion painting your face. "Connor put in a balloon. They'll keep you for probably a week to monitor you to see if you need a valvotomy."

You hummed, letting him know that you understood everything he told you without talking. Somehow, without even looking at him, he knew and brought forth a cup with a straw in, holding it to your mouth allowing you to sip easily.

"I'm so sorry Y/N." Will said earnestly, his eyes shimmering as he intertwined your fingers with his. "I wasn't paying enough attention to you otherwise-"

"Stop." You interrupted him, voice still slightly hoarse from not using it. "Blaming yourself helps no one."

"What's done is done." You continued, squeezing his hands when he squeezed yours first. "I'm really the one to blame. If I took care of myself and did something when I first was having problems then we wouldn't be here."

Silence followed, the only sound being the constant beeping from all the machines attached to you.

"Never faint on me again, you hear me?"

"Can't promise you that babes."

"Yes you can."

"You're hilarious Will."

"No, I'm being serious Y/N."

"Don't make me laugh, where's Connor Rhodes, my favourite doctor?"

"Very funny, I think I'll buy April expensive cart coffee next time."

#one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #onechicago #chicago med #will halstead imagine #will halstead x reader #will halstead #will halstead x you #will halstead fanfic #will halstead x y/n

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steddieas-shegoes · 9 months

Note

for your hc/inspo post!! (i have my own hc masterpost so i literally copy/pasted from there 😅):

for steve’s bi-awakening, i like one of the kids asking “wait, can you not like both?” and steve’s just like.. “ok now hold on”; like, will comes out to el after coming out to steve and is explaining it to her that he likes boys, not girls and that’s where el goes “why can’t you like both?” will: “i’m sure you can, and that there are people who do, i just am someone who only likes boys.” steve: 🤯 (then ofc steddie happens after that)

Noelle, this is great because I am actually able to picture the blank stare Steve has for a solid five minutes as he works it out himself. He's so smart, but sometimes he is just so very dumb.

-------------

"So, let me get this straight-" Lucas started.

"Nothing about this is straight," Max said with a playful smirk.

Steve watched as Will tensed for a moment before relaxing, realizing Max was just joking around.

"As I was saying-" Will tried to say.

"Wait. Can you only like one? Not both?" El interrupted, her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Well, no. It's just that I only like boys. Some girls only like girls," Will continued, smiling encouragingly at El.

"But you could like both?" El asked.

"Of course! Everyone is different. Some people like boys and girls. Some people only like people as friends. There's a lot of ways people can care about people," Will responded.

Steve froze.

"Wait." Steve shook his head. "You can like both? At the same time?"

Everyone turned to him with wide eyes.

"Yes, Steve. You can like anyone you want to like," Will said with a comforting smile.

"Oh."

He sat there with his thoughts while the kids continued talking, not even aware of the way they all kept looking at him as if he'd just grown a second head.

"How come I wasn't invited to the party?" A familiar voice rang out a few minutes later.

Eddie.

Steve jumped up and walked over to him, standing in front of him and searching his face for any sign that he was doing the right thing.

"Alright, big boy?" Eddie asked, voice smaller than Steve's maybe ever heard it outside of a hospital.

"Can I kiss you?" Steve asked instead of answering.

Eddie nodded, shocked into silence.

Steve leaned in, toe to toe and nose to nose with Eddie, closing his eyes and breathing him in for a moment.

When Steve's lips touched Eddie's, everyone in the room cheered, but loudest of all was Will.

"I knew it! I knew you liked him!" he yelled.

Steve pulled away after a few seconds, slowly opening his eyes and smiling at Eddie.

"Alright, Eds?" Steve asked.

"I asked you first, big boy."

"I'm great."

"Me too."

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #headcanon #drabble

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beanghostprincess · 5 months

Note

I saw the strawhats chronic pain asks and had a moment of CROSS GUILD CHRONIC PAIN-

Crocodile is an amputee. Like. Canonically. Phantom pains.

Mihawk has HELLA light sensitivity vibes ((I Gift him,,,,, my migraines))

And Buggy? Oh my favorite little punching bag, I bet the spatial awareness necessary for his DF must he OFF THE CHARTS, not to mention bomb making, harmful chemicals, etc, I feel it in my bones that he has an autoimmune disorder of some kind and also migraines bc the highest flattery I can give is projection.

Ignore this if you wanna, t'was just a Thought, love your blog, Bean!!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡

YAY CROSS GUILD ASK I AM IN SUCH A CROSS GUILD MOOD LATELY YESYESYESYES!!!!!!!! And I'm making this romantic because if I don't make cross guild gay I might die. Thank you.

Okay, so what I'm hearing here is that they keep their lights real low on their shared tent, and whenever they have meetings: At the start of their business relationship, they're still learning how to get used to being together. Buggy is used to stage lights but only for a while and he doesn't want these two to know another weak spot of him (also the pain around his whole body is killing him sometimes), so he tries to deal with the migraines and being uncomfortable because he knows that complaining will only lead to these two using him as a punching bag. But lucky for him, Mihawk does mention one day that he hates brightness (because edgy vampire can't say 'my head fucking hurts' like a functional human) and so he says something about candles. Buggy is afraid they might set the tent on fire but he prefers this over the headaches. Crocodile doesn't give a fuck about this, honestly. Then, they start growing closer and y'know, I'll just skip to them dating- They're dating. They share a tent there at Karai Bari. And now it's something to do instinctively? Like they just keep the lights low or light up some candles and they just live like that. Whenever they're on a ship they do this too.

Following what I just said, they're affectionate but like, in a weird way. Because, y'know, look at them. Buggy ends up crying and complaining about his headaches and also when his body won't stop hurting. He's a drama queen, of course, a diva. He lives flashily. Cries flashily, too. He always curls up beside Crocodile so the big big comfy man can provide him some comfort and warmth and pats on the head or something. Crocodile just runs his hook through his hair softly and lets him be annoying for a while until he falls asleep on top of him. If he has to do something he just??? Won't do it??? He's a pirate but he isn't a fucking monster. One day Mihawk catches them and they share that look of understanding that only cat owners understand, because God (Nika is the only one I believe in, something something amen) is watching and if you dare to move when a cat's in your lap, you go instantly to hell. On the other hand, when Buggy cries and Mihawk is the one around, he gives him some painkillers and turns off the lights completely to then read Buggy one of his books. He does this without saying a word and the first time this weird, silent sign of affection happens, Buggy is speechless. And also, yes, Mihawk can read in the dark perfectly well because he's a cat. He sees in the dark. I even think Buggy can see his gold eyes staring at him. They're like the headlights of a car. Oh, and Mihawk deals with his migraines in perfect silence but when it's a bad day he gets into a very irritable and irascible mood. Most people would be complaining about it but at least this way he's more talkative? Somehow? He's a bitch to Buggy for a while and then they just talk shit about other people together while Crocodile makes a comment like "If you're well enough to complain, you're well enough to continue worki-" and it's, like, the and only time Buggy instinctively throws a pillow at him to shut him up. Never again, though. Scary mafioso-looking boyfriend.

Now that we're talking about Crocodile, the phantom pains: They stress the fuck out of him. They're painful and uncomfortable and he wants to strangle somebody. On a good day, that somebody isn't Buggy. And on a bad day, Buggy really tries to be the sweetest fucking thing on earth by making everything comfortable for him and disappearing right away. Maybe he starts an argument with Mihawk for something stupid but they make up later, it's fine. But, you know what? Sometimes he needs comfort and somebody to distract him too, so one day (when Buggy is about to disappear for hours so he doesn't end up suffering the consequences of staying too long with him) he tells Buggy to stay. The clown is frightened, but he does what he's told and- And it's surprisingly sweet? Crocodile just tells him to talk to him. Explain something. Anything. Complain about the fucking weather or tell a joke. Anything. And Buggy is genuinely surprised but ends up either talking shit about people or telling him anecdotes or just reading him the paper. And Crocodile seems to like it??? A surprise for both, really, but the man actually likes having the clown around because it is working really well as a distraction and when Buggy is not being annoying Crocodile realizes why he loves him. He loves him when he's annoying too, though, he bullies him out of love. Sometimes he just tells Buggy to come sit on his lap and stay there and Crocodile is still in pain but somehow being with the clown makes him feel better. Mihawk tries to be comforting on these days too but it's more of a "you ought to rest, otherwise you'll be irritable all afternoon and you cannot keep frightening the subordinates" type of silent care than anything.

Also, I want to add Crocodile almost murdering a man one day because they were doing business with him on his ship and he had a lot of lights on (when he was asked not to) and both Mihawk and Buggy were visibly uncomfortable the second they entered the room. I love protective Crocodile. He looks like he'd just murder men without any remorse for talking shit about the other two. I like it.

#i would apologize and say i focused more on the romance than on the headcanon but #have you considered that i had a lot of fun writing this and that they're in love #i am a very intense cross guild shipper i know it doesn't seem like it bc i barely post about them but i am #also really great headcanons about their chronic pain that i will never forget #one piece #dracule mihawk #buggy the clown #sir crocodile #cross guild

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gold-rhine · 1 year

Text

sub!Diluc x Dom! gn! reader

Warnings: very much not safe for w, edging, overstimulation, praise kink, minors get out of here. But also, some unabashed fluff. Yes, it contains multitudes.

words: 3,2k.

A\n: repost since my previous blog got shadowbanned

Listen, i know everyone hcs Diluc as a dom. And he can be a very nice service dom, but I’m here to convince you that sub!Diluc is actually not OOC.

First of all, he’s more repressed than a catholic nun. Diluc is like on six levels of dissociation at any given moment. He sees his body as a flesh suit he’s piloting that requires an inconvenient maintenance like sleep, food and occasional sexual release. He’ll jerk off by himself like it’s a chore.

Diluc is so touch starved it’s ridiculous, and *he doesn’t even know it*, that’s how much he’s disconnected from his needs.

And like. Helping ppl like that discover what they actually want and watching them come undone in pleasure they didn’t know they desired is so delicious. If you know, you know, there’s nothing quite like it.

But you have to go slow with him

I mean first of all, you shouldn’t mess with Diluc at all if you’re not in for a long haul, this man doesn’t do casual.

Oh, he’ll agree to try if he’s already into you, he’s incredibly indulging to the people he values. But also because at first he’ll be incredibly defensive.

Not because he’s not into it. Just as a defense mechanism, as he thinks he’ll disappoint you and he’s preparing for a failure from the start.

Diluc can see any activity with his important people as a trial where his performance will be evaluated. He is one of these “I need to get a good grade in X which is both normal to want and possible to achieve” people.

Remember the coffeeshop event where he was like “When I was a small child, my father told me to mix my first drink using all of the ingredients in the tavern. In hindsight, it was probably to see how creative I am and I must’ve failed because I just made a fruit punch and my father didn’t say if I did well”?

Like, Diluc. Baby. Honey. Sweetie. Your dad probably just wanted you to have fun in an improvised “take your kid to work” event. He didn’t judge your punch because it was about spending quality time together and letting you play with colorful syrups. Who the fuck would evaluate a small child’s creativity on the first time they mix drinks. You think he expected you to invent Pina Colada?

So yeah, he will see even getting edged as a thing he’s not proficient in, so he’s most likely to fail and disappoint you. And that’s one of the worst things he can imagine.

Because being useful is Diluc’s love language. If you read his voicelines or talk to him in teapot, you can notice how he’s very focused on doing things for you, like he’ll invent a drink specifically for you and keeps repeating that you should tell him if you need anything, but at the same time, he “doesn’t do chit chat” and wants to leave if there’s nothing for him to do.

Because Diluc knows he’s not easygoing or fun to be around. He has his charming brother who makes it seem effortless to compare himself with. He knows he’s kind of awkward, intense, brooding and direct to the point of coming off as rude. So he needs to feel like he’s doing something useful for you to justify spending time with you.

So for his first time, don’t tease him verbally. He’s incredibly teasable, I know. But he’s already very anxious about disappointing you even if he tries to hide it and he was conditioned to clamp up at the first sign of perceived mockery by his troll brother. Show him first how good it can feel before you start playing with him.

also, he obviously has a praise kink that he’s not even aware of. like, it’s not even up for discussion, praise from other people and approval from his dad are literally described as his main motivations

“The praise he received from his comrades and citizens spurred him on. But the words of praise he valued most of all were: "Good job. Now, that's my son." His father's words fueled the fire inside his heart and served as his greatest motivation.“ and sure, after he lost his dad and emotionally closed off, he doesn’t allow himself to rely on approval of others. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it.

You can tie his hands, but honestly I think it’s much more fun to just order him to keep his hands up. He’s so stubborn, it’ll be a matter of pride for him to keep his composure. And it will also make it that much more delicious to see it finally break.

When you tell him that he must ask for permission to finish, he just scoffs. He’s so sure he wouldn’t be reduced to that.

Don’t expect him to dissolve into stereotypical meowling and begging when you first start touching him. Again, he’s much too stubborn. He’s coming into this defensive and he wants to be in control of himself.

But hear me out - it actually makes it more fun to tease him. Diluc tries to keep himself still, but no amount of willpower will make him less sensitive and, again, touch starved to hell and back.

So at first, it’s the little things that betray him. How when you kiss his neck, his throat moves under your lips in a shaky intake of a breath, How the taut muscles of his scarred arms flex when you run your hands over his chest. How he draws in his stomach when you slide your fingers down it, slow, tantalizingly slow, making light patterns with just your fingertips. How he avoids your eyes because you haven’t even touched his cock yet and he’s already so obviously, painfully hard.

He has a beautiful cock, big and with a nice curve, and as for all pale redheads, it becomes brilliantly red when aroused. When you finally touch him, slowly stroking it up from the base to the tip, he draws in a breath through the clenched teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. You watch him struggle as you start pumping his dick faster and faster, his jaw clenching, his breath and heartbeat quickening, sweat beads forming on his forehead, his shoulders and hips flinching as he tries to keep himself from arching up and thrusting into your hand.

He’s fighting a losing battle and both of you know it by now. You could break him right here if you wanted. You squeeze and rub the sensitive tip of his cock, and see him open his mouth in a silent, chocked gasp for air. He manages to keep himself from clenching his fists, but his knuckles whiten when he desperately scraps his fingertips against the bedsheets.

But you don’t want him to feel like he lost a fight, it’s not about that, it was never about that. Even shame should feel good. You caress his high, sculpted cheekbones with your thumb, your other hand still on his cock. “‘Luc, look at me.”

He can’t disobey you, but he has to take a deep breath before he can open his eyes. He meets your gaze, anxious. What’s he going to see, mockery over how pathetically quick he’s breaking down? Disappointment for how bad and inexperienced he is at this? Just a cold, severe rejection?

“You look so beautiful, baby,” you tell him quietly and breath catches in his throat, his pupils widening, his cock twitching in your hand. You kiss the trail from his sharp jawline up to his ear, allowing him to turn away. “Do you enjoy this? Do you want me to keep going?" you smile warmly when he whips his head back to look at you and meet his dazed crimson eyes. “I just want you to feel good.”

This reframes the entire scene for him in a one fell swoop, turning it upside down, leaving him disoriented. It wasn’t a challenge that he was losing, or a trial that he was failing, him giving in to his desires was what you wanted all along? You enjoy seeing his pleasure, even if he’s not being useful to you in return? It seems impossible to him, yet when you look at him like this, when you touch him like this, like he’s precious and wanted, when he knows he’s broken and undeserving… it feels intoxicating and liberating at once, in a way he couldn’t imagine before. He realizes at this moment how badly he wants this, even if he still doesn’t understand how far he’s willing to go for it.

“I… ugh, I… like it,” Diluc swallows harshly, his mouth suddenly dry, and if you thought he was blushing before, now the pink dust on his cheeks turns into a brilliant scarlet glow, covering his face, neck and even top of his shoulders. He clearly wants to look away in embarrassment, but makes himself hold your gaze. “If you… enjoy this too and… want to go on…”

You rake your eyes over him, sprawled in front of you, and smile, meeting his gaze again. “Of course I enjoy it. You look so fucking hot like this.” his eyes widen and his lips part, you can feel his tip leaking in your hand, his entire body strung up like a bowstring. He doesn’t know what to answer and he couldn’t talk even if he did, so when you lower your head down to kiss him he answers eagerly, with passion and gratitude he can’t express in words. You start pumping his cock again, now faster and with a firmer grip, and drink in his abrupt gasp against your mouth, as he freezes for a second and then returns the kiss with twice the abandon. This time he doesn’t try to fight it, his body trembling under you, his hips bucking up to meet your hand, his hands closing into fists, toes curling.

He breaks the kiss when you twist your palm against his pulsing tip, and he cries out, low and strangled, his entire body arching up, but his unfocused eyes find yours immediately, his gaze frantic, almost feverish. He’s going far outside his comfort zone, he’s relinquishing control and he’s so unused to this, he trained himself for years to do the opposite of this, to see it as a failure, so he needs your repeated reassurance to soothe his anxiety, to prove he didn’t imagine your desire few moments ago.

You lean down to him without breaking eye contact. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re being so good for me.”

It shoots through him, bypassing the brain entirely, through the entire nerve system and right down to the cock, like only discovering a kink you were entirely oblivious to before can. His body goes rigid and he comes, with a choked, shuddering groan.

You stroke him through it, until he limply falls back on the bed, spent and panting. He reaches for you and you let him pull you in, hold him while he’s coming back to his senses, run fingers through his soft hair. When he opens his eyes, he looks at you with a small, almost sheepish smile, and it’s impossible to resist kissing him.

“Are you okay?” you ask, stroking his cheek and he leans into your palm.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he answers immediately, then realizes how it sounds and tries to correct. “I mean, I’m better than fine. I’m... I feel good.”

You chuckle and his eyes flicker to watch your mouth, then throw you a glance from under half-lowered lids. It’s enjoyable seeing him open like this, but what you really want is seeing him come undone. He doesn’t look tired and you know he can go on for much longer, but today it’s more a question of mental state than stamina.

“You want to go for another round?” you ask softly him and he blushes lightly.

“Well, I did technically… um, break a promise to ask for permission in the end,” he says with the same small smile that grows even more sheepish as he tries to avoid admitting he desperately wants more. “So it’s only fair if I remedy that.”

“Oh, of course. Honorable as always. So noble of you, Master Diluc,” you run your fingers over his abs, spreading cum all over them, and his brilliant blush returns in full force. But he doesn’t stop smiling, trusting your good intentions, that you’re mocking the hierarchy of ranks and not him personally. You kiss the corner of his mouth to reassure him, and his smile grows wider.

“Well, you can’t be successful in the commercial trade if you’re not answering for your obligations,” he says, trying and failing to keep a straight face. He really does recover very quickly, you think, if he can already banter. “The Wine Guild would kick me out if they learned I’d backed down on a deal.”

“Well, at least I know I can complain to the Wine Guild if you misbehave then,” your voice is still light, but you catch his chin and lift it up firmly, and he tenses up immediately.

He looks up at you, eyes intense as always, but now glittering in anticipation and tracking your every move, bangs tousled and lips parted for you to claim. You kiss him, messily, greedily, slide your fingers to the back of his head and pull on his hair, forcing him to expose his throat for you. You leave the trail of sloppy kisses and scraped teeth down from his jaw to the collarbones before you let go of his hair and allow him to collapse.

When your hand finds his cock, it’s already half-hard, throbbing. red. This time, you don’t go slowly, you grab it and start pumping it fast. He shudders, still so sensitive after a recent orgasm, and instinctively tries to close his legs.

You don’t force them open, instead, you catch his chin and meet his eyes again. “No,” you say slowly. “Open up for me.”

The thing about Diluc is that he doesn’t do anything by halves if he sets his mind to it. Once he opens up, he burns for you with the same single-minded dedication as he does fighting enemies in the night. He might not know how to ask for help, pleasure or affection, but he sure knows how to give and to give everything he’s got. Do not ask to have him if you want anything less than the whole.

He grits his teeth, his eyes smoldering crimson, and forces himself to spread his legs again, against his basic reflexes. The touch to his overstimulated dick is painful and igniting at the same time, it feels equal parts wrecking and delightful.

You smile and praise him and pump him even harder and faster than before, and he trashes in front of you, muttering a litany of half-choked curses, throwing his head from side to side, hands clawing at the sheets, thighs shaking, but staying open.

You asked for him and you shall have him, no matter what.

It’s still not enough for you, though.

You sprawl on your side against him, circling one arm around his shoulders, still stroking him with the other. The fight goes out of him. He blindly leans into you, trembling, a small whine caught in his throat. When you kiss him, his mouth is soft and pliant, but his hands clutch at you desperately, like a drowning man trying to hold on to the solid ground.

It drives you crazy to watch him writhe under you, completely unravelled, glowing brightly from feverish desire, scarlet silk of his tangled hair sprawled on the sheets, his hips bucking frantically into your hand.

You whisper sweet, tender praises to him, caress his face, neck and shoulders like he’s the most precious and fragile thing in the world, at the same time as your other hand relentlessly winds him up, squeezes his overstimulated, pulsing cock harshly, twists the leaking tip. The pain punctuates desire, a delirious contrast of torturously sweet and deliciously cruel.

His fingers dig into you, holding you close. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, clings to you, seeking comfort and shelter from the same sweet, unbearable torture that is also inflicted by you. The pleasure melts him, but the pain splits him open, wrecks him to the core, he wants this to end, and he wants this to never stop. More than anything, he wants to be yours.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re perfect,” you tell him and you mean it.

He breathes in through his mouth, drawing in your scent. “Please,” he gasps so quietly, you could’ve missed it if not for his lips moving against your neck. “Please, let me…please…”

Next time, you might demand more. Next time, you might make him spell it out completely, what exactly he begs you for. But this is his first time and he was already so brave for you.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been so fucking good. Come for me.”

He comes immediately and so hard, his entire body is shaking, the strangled scream caught in his throat. You keep stroking him, letting him ride it out through increasingly frantic and desperate thrusts, squeeze every last drop out of him until he collapses, limp and shivering, but still clinging to you.

You hold him, stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, whisper to him softly until he stops trembling and his breath evens out. You realize that he’s too weak now to get to the bath, so you stand up to get something to help, but he reaches out, catches your wrist immediately.

“It’s okay, I’ll be back in a second,” you promise. After you clean him up with a wet cloth, he pulls you in and curls around you so possessively and needy, you can’t help but smile. He’s fighting a losing battle to stay awake, the endless sleepless nights finally catching up with him, now that he lowered his guard for a moment and let his body feel alive. But there’s one thing he needs to ask, suddenly apprehensive now that the rush of lust passed.

“Did you… Was I… Ugh, damn. Would you perhaps?..” he stumbles over his words, not knowing how to phrase his concern that he wasn’t good enough for you and you just indulged him. You stop him mercifully.

“I *did* enjoy it. You *were* incredible. And yes, I would very much love to do this again.”

“Oh,” he says, relaxing against you, the same precious small smile appearing on his face again, now more content than sheepish. You chuckle, stroking his face.

“Besides, you did break my order to keep your hands up. You’ll have to suffer the punishment, or the Wine Guild will need to hear about this.”

He snorts indignantly and blushes at the same time. For the first time in many, many nights he falls asleep with a light heart and a smile still tugging at his lips.

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #genshin impact smut #sub genshin #sub diluc #dom reader #diluc

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