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stsgluver · 3 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄 — geto suguru

synopsis. somewhere along the way, geto suguru had gone from being your greatest challenge academically to your greatest challenge emotionally

wc. 12.4k

tags. college/uni!au, supposed to be academic rivals to lovers but that lowkey became a subplot sorry, friends to lovers, fluff, mention of being sick , happy ending, not proofread, shoko tells you to have sex

a/n. hi!! this is my first long long fic so thank you to anyone who reads. sorry if it seems disjointed at any point, half of it was written several months ago and half in the last week <3

geto suguru was the bane of your existence to say the least.

if you could split your life into two, it would be distinctly separated as life before geto and life including geto. admittedly, you didn’t really remember life before geto – having been only a child – but from ten years old, he’d been a constant in your life. having moved from a small school where it was relatively easy to maintain your status as top of the class, you were suddenly put in a position where you weren’t the only kid with an above average level of intelligence.

so from ten years old, to now, at twenty, you have found yourself in constant competition with geto. scores didn’t matter as long as you beat him. shoko had started keeping track several years ago – a little tally chart in her notes app to record who was the highest scorer after tests. currently, geto was a win ahead of you, something which you weren’t proud to admit but you blamed it on the flu that had meant you’d missed a week and a half of lectures.

“so close yet so far.”

you jumped at the sound of a voice so close to you. it was a thursday morning, the library was relatively quiet and you’d been so engrossed in the sound of the keys as you typed that you hadn’t heard geto come up behind you. you were fully aware of him now though, his hot breath on the back of your neck as he loomed over you to no doubt read the answer you had been writing.

“maybe if i didn’t have someone breathing down the back of my neck, i’d be able to focus,” you countered, grabbing your bottle of water to quickly unscrew the cap and take a sip, hoping that the cool liquid could ease the heat in your cheeks. his hands were on the back of your chair as his eyes skimmed through your answer.

despite your rivalry that had been established on almost the first day of meeting, you and geto had always found yourself in similar circles. now, at university, the two of you were a part of a small quartet with your other close friends, gojo and shoko. both you and geto had majored in computer science (much to your delight), while gojo had majored in business and shoko in biomedicine. so not only were you stuck with him in your group, you two shared almost every single class together too.

he grinned down at you with that annoying smirk that you’d become all too familiar with, “you consider me a distraction?” anyone with eyes would say yes – with his long, dark hair twisted into a half up, half down do and a loose fitting shirt that showed off his toned arms. you didn’t have to fully look back at him to know why girls were constantly asking for his number.

“what i consider you is an annoyance.” brushing him off your chair, you opened a fresh tab. you still had catch up work, plus your usual studies from your small period off, hence why you had been at the library since it had first opened. you only had an afternoon lecture on a thursday so you’d sacrificed your usual sleeping in day to study.

the last thing you needed was geto playing teacher and critiquing your work.

the male in question laughed as he took a seat next to you, bringing out his own laptop that you half wanted to take a peek at. in less than a week, both of you had a large project due that accounted for a large percentage of your final grade for the year. you had the majority completed, but after reviewing your code, you’d realised that in your ill-state you’d made more errors than you’d realised (it would’ve arguably been more beneficial if you had just accepted defeat and done nothing for two weeks instead of trying).

“i come bearing gifts,” a familiar voice called out far louder than he should have – gojo rarely entered a library, let alone bothered to learn basic etiquettes. the snowy-haired male had pushed his dark glasses up onto the top of his head, cup holder in one hand with three drinks from the local cafe and a white plastic bag in the other.

gojo took a seat on the other side of geto, dropping the bag unceremoniously on the circular table, its contents (sugary sweets plus some pastries) spilling everywhere. he was more gentle with the drinks and you could have kissed him for the iced caramel latte he passed across to you. you were only three hours in and you were ready to flake and go home.

“oh good,” geto grabbed one of the paper bags with chocolate-filled croissants (gojo only knew food associated with sugar), “some of us are going to be here a long while.” there was no subtlety as he nodded his head towards you, something you were willing to throw your half drunk water bottle at him for.

but as per usual, gojo missed the obvious social context cues and stared eyes wide at the two of you. “why? do we have a test?”

the four of you had decided to take a language class together (specifically german) so even when you got busy during exams you knew that there would be at least twice a week when the four of you would be sitting at the back of a lecture hall together.

“since when did you study for tests?” geto scoffed, leaning back in his chair, stretching his arms out above his head.

gojo giggled at the notion he was there to study. he’d only come to the library because shoko had plans throughout the day and his only other friends in the whole world were you two. “i just need to know what lesson i’m going to skip.”

his attendance was horrific. he took two weeks off in solidarity with you so you ‘didn’t feel bad for getting the flu’. if he still felt remotely hung over on sunday evening, after attending one of his regular saturday night parties, he would make the decision then that monday was not the day for him to be attending lectures. if he woke up with a ‘bad feeling’, he took that as a sign that he would 100% die in a freak accident if he attended a lecture and skipped. you would kill to have his trust fund to cushion you if you failed university.

“no satoru we don’t have a test,” you laughed at his relieved look and little ‘phew’ as he dramatically swiped his hand across his forehead. to show his gratitude he offered you one of his excessively sweet croissants which you happily accepted. you knew you needed to get a real lunch soon but you just needed to do a couple more hours of real work before you could slack off.

unlucky for you, those couple of hours turned into the rest of the time the library was officially opened for.

you and gojo had taken an hour long break for lunch, before taking back sushi for geto (on gojo, of course). then both you and geto were in a video call whilst gojo played on his phone, attending your lecture online since neither of you were bothered to make your way back to campus just to come back out to the library.

geto had shown you snippets of his project and you were 70% sure that you were slightly ahead of him. but you weren’t about to hedge your bets and slack off – not when you still need at least two points to put yourself on top again on shoko’s chart. gojo had left a while ago once shoko had messaged him that she was back at your shared apartment.

“are you walking?” geto asked you as he slipped his laptop into his backpack. gojo had been kind enough to take all of the remaining sweets with him so you only had your textbooks to clear off of the table and the empty wrappers he’d left behind.

you nodded, grimacing slightly at the window. it was dark outside; it wasn’t winter but you hadn’t completely transitioned to spring evenings when the sun wouldn’t set till beyond seven. “my place is only a ten minute walk.” only a ten minute walk in the drizzling rain for which you did not bring a coat. as large as it was on you, you didn’t think gojo’s hoodie would suffice in keeping you warm (he’d forgotten it at yours after a movie night).

“i’ll give you a lift. can’t have you getting sick again.” he teased, chuckling at his own joke as you shot him a faux glare, lightly nudging his arm as you two descended down the stairs of the library. there was no one else in the library at this point, and your footsteps seemed to echo against the cool tiles of the floor.

“fine,” you sarcastically dragged, although you were grateful for the alternative to walking.

somewhere along the way, the line between rivals and friends had been blurred. for you, the line had only become messier on your eighteenth birthday when the four of you had dressed up in suits and gone to your local laser tag place. as aforementioned, you’d always been aware that geto was attractive but it wasn’t until the close proximity under the neon lights, when you were a duo against shoko and gojo, did you truly see it. a few gentle touches on your waist to pull you back behind a wall, several whispers in your ear where he’d duck down to your height and you were a goner.

for the most part, you’d been able to keep it to yourself, focusing all of your energy into being statistically smarter than him as opposed to admitting – or even really acknowledging – your feelings.

“i was right,” you said, slightly out of breath having just run from the entrance of the library to geto’s car (which was parked as far away as it possibly could’ve been because he’d gone to the gym before meeting you). the light drizzle of rain and turned borderline torental in the thirty seconds it had taken you to exit the library. geto gave you a confused look as he pulled his hair out of his half bun, a slight frizz due to the dampness caused by the light rain. “my first answer,” you clarified, “i was right.”

he was smirking again, the same confident know-it-all smirk, “i know. i like instilling a little bit of doubt, better my odds.”

“you’re an ass.” you huffed, crossing your arms in front of yourself. you’d reread the question three times and rewritten it once, coming to the same conclusion as before, before giving up and checking the mark scheme that had told you you were right all along.

“i’ll make you pay for fuel,” geto threatened as he turned on the ignition, reversing the car out of the parking space. his hand was on the back of your headrest as he peered out of the back window.

“you can’t make me pay when you were the one to offer me a lift,” you retorted, playing with the strings of gojo’s hoodie and trying to ignore the close proximity between you and the dark haired male next to you. lucky for you, geto’s car was full of distractions for your wandering eyes, memorabilia of the last three years of your lives all around you.

on the dashboard was a dent from when gojo had hit his head after geto had had to emergency break and the former did not have his seatbelt on (there was a little blood and gojo declared that these were his final moments). the jelly belly car freshener that hung from the mirror was the same one that you had bought him as a congratulations for passing his driving test. there was a polaroid of the four of you graduating hidden in the folded mirror above your head, just the corner peeking out.

each of you had your own designated seats – gojo was usually in the passenger (you could tell by the sweet stash in the door), you sat behind gojo and shoko behind geto.

the only downside to geto’s car was the fact the heating did not work whatsoever. since getting the car at seventeen, he said every year that he was going to get it fixed but always ended up having to spend money on far more important things for the car. such as the light up gear stick and customised car horn. you shivered lightly as you wrapped your arms further around yourself, but the wet hoodie did little to warm you up.

geto glanced at you from the corner of his eye and nodded his head towards the backseats. “i have a dry jacket in the back if you’d rather that.”

you contemplated it for a moment before ultimately deciding that you would like to spend the next eight minutes warm. slipping off gojo’s hoodie, you turned to reach behind you to grab geto’s black zip up and slip it on, leaving the hoodie behind for your other friend to claim back. he would more than likely be in here the next day anyways.

the rest of the car ride was mostly silent, other than you critiquing his driving on several occasions – which he claimed you were in no position to do since you did not have a licence of your own. you argued you were perfectly within your rights as he’d had to swerve to avoid a stray cat.

“thanks suguru,” you said as you took off your seatbelt and reached for your bag. he’d pulled up just outside of the entrance to your apartment so you’d only be caught in the rain for a fraction of a second. “do you want me to leave your jacket here?”

“anytime princess.” what had started off as a mocking when you were kids had become your designated nickname and you hated how much you now loved it when geto called you that. you could only hope he couldn’t see your flushed skin in the dim lights. “and don’t worry about it. give it back to me another time.”

you thanked him again, waving him off before you scurried inside and up the stairs to the fourth floor where your apartment with shoko was. the two of you had been in separate student accommodation in your first year, but after six months and several awful roommates had both chosen to find a small apartment to share together. both of you had part time jobs to afford it and while it added to the masses of work you already had with school, it was worth it.

it was only small – two bedrooms, a bathroom and an open kitchen and living room – but it was your little home. as of a weekend, it wasn’t uncommon for geto and gojo to be there too. of a friday evening, the four of you would be huddled in your living room with a random board game (usually cluedo) and an excessive amount of vodka.

“where have you been?” shoko asked slyly, laying across the sofa with a pen in one hand and her ipad in the other. there was a picture of a human heart on her screen, her scribbles annotating it messily.

“library. suguru gave me a lift home,” you called out to her as you dropped your bag into your room, passing shoko as you headed for the fridge to find something to eat. pushing your hair up into a loose bun, you grabbed a fork for the pot of mango you’d picked up. “when did satoru leave?”

“he was only here for twenty minutes. this place is too small for him,” shoko dropped her stuff down onto the sofa, following you to your little kitchen area. she jumped up onto the counter, happily accepting the fruit you offered to her. “so, geto gave you a lift home then?” she eyed your change in hoodie from the one you’d left in that morning.

“don’t start,” you complained, grabbing another fork so she didn’t have to eat with her hands. it had been shoko’s current fixation to over analyse the relationship between you and geto. you’d made it very clear twelve months ago when she’d first come to you to ask what was going on that there was nothing there. nothing tangible anyways.

“no, i just think it’s so sweet and so gentlemanly of him,” shoko tucked her hair behind her ear as she spoke with a mouthful of mango, batting her eyelashes innocently, “don’t you?”

your refusal to point blank answer the question is enough of an answer for her. “i think it’s late,” you backed away from shoko and dropped your used fork in the sink. you’d sort it out in the morning. “and i have an eight am class tomorrow.”

“with geto,” shoko called out before you could fully close your door and you could hear her smile in her voice. you rested your forehead on the cool wood of the door and tried not to think too much about how right she was. it was embarrassing – you were a grown adult, not a teenager anymore. it should be easy to pull yourself together and get over your silly crush that arguably stemmed from the rivalry between the two of you.

he challenged you in a way you had never been before you craved the competition. that was what you wanted from him – a challenge, not his toned body or honey-smooth voice.

when she’d confronted you the first time about your feelings from geto, you’d been honest (the woman was a walking lie detector, there was no way you could have lied). told her that yes you had a small crush but that was all it was – a harmless little crush. when you’d continued on as normal and didn’t make any sort of moves or obvious hints that you still liked him like that, she’d dropped it.

you’d hoped that that was the end of it.

however, her interest had been revived after the two of you had stayed up a few weeks prior after coming home from a party. shoko had had far more than is recommended for the average person alcohol-wise whereas you had mainly sobered up by now. the two of you were curled up under a blanket watching whatever romcom shoko had found whilst you had made two bowls of cereal.

“if you had to sleep with anyone we know right now or you’d die, who would it be?” shoko had asked with a mouthful that you cringed at. neither of you had bothered to change into appropriate attire or cleaned your faces so it was almost comical to see her in her short dress and smudged make-up eating cereal.

you nudged her arm gently, careful not to cause any spillages, and with a snort asked, “why would i die if i didn’t have sex?”

“shh,” she was messy and unbalanced as she leaned across to press a finger to your lips, “answer the question.”

you hummed, tapping your spoon against your chin as you mulled over her question. you knew the answer – you were sure she did too – but you didn’t want to come across as desperate. “i don’t know…” there was still a buzz in your system, especially as you thought back on your night out and the crowd of other uni students you’d been with. “definitely not naoya.” you pretended to gag after you said his name and shoko laughed.

he had made the first hour of your outing less than fun as he trailed behind you like a lost puppy. geto was away visiting family, gojo was somewhere on the dancefloor, and shoko was getting drinks from someone so you were left alone and the zenin thought that this would be the day you would accept his love confessions. as if two years of hard ‘no’s’ would suddenly become a ‘yes’.

the mere suggestion made you actually want to be physically sick.

“he is the worst kisser,” shoko complained, staring up at the ceiling like she was reliving a moment you didn’t even know had happened. you stared at her, mouth agape, because in all your years she had never once told you when this had happened.

“why have you kissed him?” not only was zenin naoya renowned for his lack of respect towards women, the girl sat inches from you was a proud, outspoken lesbian who made it very clear she had zero attraction to men whatsoever.

“gojo donkey dared me to.”

“ieiri.” you deadpanned at your best friend as she snickered at your judgement, waving her hand dismissively towards you.

“you would do it too for a free drink,” she tried to justify and you shook your head.

“have some standards.”

you could practically imagine how it played out, gojo in fits of laughter and naoya in shock as shoko pulled him into a kiss (he’d mask it up though and use it as evidence that even lesbians wanted him). if you were lucky, gojo recorded the incident but the likelihood that he would have had the forethought is a fifty-fifty if he was drinking. even when he does remember to record silly things like that on a night out, majority of the time the camera is pointing at him instead of the incident.

“you’d kiss geto for a free drink wouldn’t you?”

you almost choked on your own spit at the forwardness of her question.

“i’m just saying, this whole rivalry thing? fuck it out,” she raised her hands in defence at the appalled look on your face. “the tension is unbearable.”

“you’re unbearable,” you flipped her off.

“you’re late.”

you weren’t a violent person but you think that just one little slap to geto’s perfectly tanned face would have made you a slightly happier person. it wasn’t fair that him and gojo looked happy and wide awake at sixteen minutes past eight in the morning whilst you and shoko looked like you had just run a marathon.

which, in your opinion, you basically had.

and now you were at your stupid language class that you didn’t really even need to be taking with no morning coffee to wake you up.

you huffed as you slid into the seat next to geto, grateful that you always chose to sit near the back so it wasn’t too obvious you’d just come in late. nodding your head towards shoko, “someone locked themselves in the bathroom.”

not only had you not woken up to your first alarm so you were already behind in your usual routine, just as you were about to leave your apartment, you heard shoko calling out from the bathroom saying the door was broken. ensue a fifteen minute battle with you both trying to jiggle the door lock open.

“i said it was a sign we shouldn’t show up at all,” shoko shrugged, grabbing out her pouch of tobacco so she could roll herself her first cigarette of the day. neither of you were overly morning people – especially not without your daily drink and cigarette (respectively of course, shoko found coffee to be too bitter and you weren’t a big fan of smoking).

“shhh.” a girl a few rows in front of you turned her head, giving you all a displeased look.

“shh.” shoko repeated back mockingly, not so subtly raising both her middle fingers up at the back of the girl's head. you bit down on your bottom lip not to laugh loudly at her childishness. the brunette on your right then turned her head down towards gojo and geto, holding out her hands, “one of you pass me your notes.” gojo looked over at you both with a grin, turning his laptop screen to face you. on it? a game of online chess. which he was losing.

“genuinely asking, how have you not failed uni yet?” shoko shook her head in disbelief before turning her attention to geto, “cough up, princess.” she mimicked the nickname geto occasionally used for you and you had to fight every urge not to nudge her in the ribs.

“i don’t know how you plan on topping me if you’re not showing up to class on time,” geto tsked disappointingly towards you as he sent the notes from his laptop to your group chat so you’d both have them. shoko slumped back into her seat, ipad in her crossed lap as she downloaded the pdf.

you ignored his jab with an eye roll, pulling your laptop out of your bag to see what you’d missed. it wasn’t much and it was a beginner’s class too so if you were going to be late to a class because shoko got locked in a bathroom, this was the one to be late for. you were glad, though, that geto always typed his notes because his handwriting was terrible. otherwise you would have to accept you lost the first fifteen minutes of the lesson.

halfway through the class, both shoko and gojo left to go have a smoke and get food (again seperately, gojo had tried to smoke once and had spent the next five minutes on the floor coughing and vowed never to do it again). the white haired male had kindly offered to grab you hashbrowns from the small on campus cafe and you’d accepted the offer after your stomach had decided that it was not happy you’d skipped coffee and breakfast.

that left you and geto alone together. well, not really alone since you were in a half filled lecture hall but the point still stood.

“it looks good on you.” geto’s breath was hot against your ear as leaned down and spoke in a low voice as to not disturb the people around you – it was either that or he too was aware of the crush you’d been harbouring for him and enjoyed seeing your flushed expression. for the sake of your sanity, you assumed the former.

you swallowed at the close proximity between the two of you; he was so close you could practically feel the loose strands of his hair brush against you. he hadn’t bothered to tie it up but you know he’d meticulously straightened it this morning. if you turned your head, there would be less than an inch between you and–

is he complimenting you in his clothes?

you’d worn his and gojo’s hoodies an endless number of times before in the past, this wasn’t anything new. you blame your flusteredness on shoko and her constant teasing at the minute. for the last couple years you’d managed to keep yourself in check.

clearing your throat, your straightened up in the uncomfy red seat. “i was in a rush this morning. you can have it back now if you really want it.” you hoped not – once again it was poor weather and you were relying on this to keep you sheltered from the rain since, for reasons that you were not at fault for, you’d left in a hurry this morning.

out of the corner of your eye you could see geto shake his head as he settled back into his seat. you let out a small breath of relief as you finally got your own bubble of personal space back. “don’t worry about it princess.”

geto wasn’t oblivious to girls being interested in him – he would brush it off with a laugh and a cocky remark – but you hoped and prayed he was oblivious to the fool you were making of yourself.

after class, the four of you had headed to your favourite cafe – only a five minute walk from campus but it was tucked out of the way in a little alleyway so that it wasn’t as busy as some of the others. you didn’t need to give shoko your order with how often you came here, you all always got your regulars.

“me and tweedle dee here,” shoko linked her arm around gojo’s as she spoke, ignoring the way she forced gojo to slightly bend down awkwardly due to their height difference, “are going to grab food, you two go grab seats.”

“c’mon,” geto’s hand was on the small of your back as he guided you between chairs and tables and you could feel the heat emanating from his palm through his jacket. for such a small space, there were far too many tables and only half occupied, leaving the rest as a labyrinth to work through.

“where are you going?” you asked with a small frown when he gently nudged you in the direction of the dimly light corner when there was a table for four right in the window still available. despite the initial shower this morning, the sun had begun to shine through.

“i’m going to the seats in the corner. y’know since there is a sofa,” geto added in a ‘duh’ tone like the sofa was the best thing in the world. it wasn’t even like they were that comfy – too low down and squishy in your opinion.

“it’s sunny,” you pointed to the light pouring in but he gave you an uninterested look, shaking his head.

“rock, paper, scissors.”

you blinked twice up at him and then down to his hands – one held out in a palm and the other in a fist over the top. the silver of his rings contrasted with the warm colour of his skin and you had to force yourself to look back up at him and not stare shamelessly.

“we’re adults, i’m not playing that with you.” you deadpanned. this was a gojo response – clearly living together meant that his antics were rubbing off on geto.

geto laughed quietly, blessing you with a teasing smile and raised eyebrow as he nudged you with his open palm and fist. kissing your teeth with your tongue, you muttered an insult about maturity under your breath as you mimicked his stance.

“corner seats it is princess,” geto grinned, hooking an arm around your shoulder to lead you to the sofa after you picked paper and he picked scissors. “do you think that counted as another point to me?” the tease in his voice was evident and the smirk on his lips only riled you up more. not even his arm around you could distract you from your sore loser behaviour.

“no,” you said quickly and with a tone that had him laughing to himself. you weren’t about to lose another point over a child’s game that was just pure luck. there was a lot more integrity behind the tally chart titled ‘who needs to go outside and touch grass more?’ (named by shoko, of course).

the two of you sat next to each other, facing towards the counter so you could see as shoko pointed to various things on the menu and pastries on display. you were all too aware of how close you were when geto knocked his knee against yours as he slipped off his hoodie.

“i can pick you up if you’re going to the library tomorrow,” geto offered as he crossed one leg over the other. his and gojo’s apartment was in the other direction of the campus to yours, but you two did share a morning class – assuming he was driving in and not making the five minute walk then it wasn’t out of his way for you.

“are you going straight after class?” you turned your head to look at up, seeing him already looking down at you. in only his t-shirt, there was a sliver of black ink peeking out from beneath his sleeve.

several months after his eighteenth birthday, you, him, gojo and shoko had gone out for the evening and returned with matching tattoos of koi betta fish. his was fully inked in on his upper arm whereas gojo’s was just the outline on the back of his shoulder. your’s was a mixture of the two and on your lower hip whereas shoko’s was on her wrist. initially it had been both blue and black ink but the blue had begun to fade.

“i need to go to the gym and then i’ll join you.”

the gym where he would most definitely be removing that shirt and not only show off the tattoo on his arm but the larger one on his back too. this one was much larger – a dragon that swirled around the shape of his spine. he always said that in another life, he would be training to become a tattoo artist and not studying computer science.

“why aren’t we sat in the sun?” you turned away from geto to look over at shoko, the female in question holding a tray as she raised a brow at the two of you, displeased by your choice of seating. she, much like you, hated the sofas and would have much rather been in the window seats.

geto shrugged, pointing at you accusingly, like he wasn’t the one who wanted to sit here. “yn lost rock, paper, scissors.”

“yn,” gojo whined as he dropped into the sofa seat opposite geto, “one job.” he complained, shaking his head in a disappointing manner, like he cared so much where you sat and was not aching to eat his donut with a sickening amount of icing. you grimaced at his tastes.

“who’s going to meimei’s party saturday?” shoko asked once she’d divided up everyone’s orders. a caramel latte and muffin for you, croissant and black coffee for geto and a blueberry muffin and black coffee for herself.

meimei was a couple years older than all of you but since week one of university, her house had been the go to one at least once every couple of weeks. gojo and geto always got an invite – meimei would personally message them – whereas you and shoko showed up as their unofficial plus ones. it didn’t bother either of you, you were there to drink, not to hang out with the slightly odd and promiscuous woman.

“yeah,” geto nodded, scrunching his nose up at the bitterness of his drink. you heavily judged both him and shoko for forcing themselves to drink a drink they barely liked. “if satoru goes.”

“i am 100% going,” gojo spoke with a mouthful, dark glasses pushed up onto the top of his head, “i need to redeem myself.”

“what after the dance floor incident?” you giggled, earning a kick under the table from the white haired male. after several drinks too many at someone’s house party, gojo had managed to create a circle in the centre of the living-room-turned-dance-floor. it was entertaining to watch him pull people in and out to dance with him… until the drinks caught up to him and he vomited everywhere. this was not at meimei’s luckily, or you don’t think he’d ever be allowed back

“shush! people won’t forget if you keep reminding them,” gojo whined, earning a sarcastic pat on the shoulder from shoko.

“are you coming?” geto asked you as though the answer wasn’t obvious. when did one of the four of you ever do anything without the others?

nonetheless, you glanced over at gojo who was looking expectantly at you, “am i really getting a choice?”

“nope!” gojo grinned.

“you’ll pick us all up?” shoko smiled uncharacteristically sweetly towards geto who rolled his eyes and nodded. he was the only one with the car but both he and shoko had licences. though he seemed hard done by in his response, he wasn’t the biggest drinker and even less so compared to shoko. he was the unspoken designated driver.

“black is your colour,” shoko complimented as she reached past you for the straighteners. you thanked her through gritted teeth as you held a bobby pin between your lips, attempting to fix your hair with another one in your hands.

the two of you were in the same shared bathroom that shoko had gotten herself locked in several days prior. your sink was covered in the various skincare and make up products you used. the two plug sockets were occupied with your straighteners and hair dryer. it was a chaotic mess that would be tomorrow’s fun activity in your hungover state.

friday had gone by quickly, geto had even showed up at your apartment to take you to your first class before you went to the library together. you’d discussed both of your projects but for the most part you’d worked in a comfortable silence. in your lunch break, you’d gone to your local chinese takeaway and eaten in his car. for a brief moment, you’d indulged yourself in what your life could be as his girlfriend, spending each of your days like this with him.

sighing, you slipped a bobby pin into the back of your hair. in a couple years time once you’d graduated and started your careers (albeit in the same or at the very least similar industries), your feelings for geto would dissipate into nothing more than the whisper of a memory. it was the competition, you reminded yourself. that was what created the ‘tension’ (as shoko put it) that had led you to believe you had these feelings.

you could laugh at yourself for how ridiculous and pathetic your thoughts sounded.

tonight however, that was not of concern. tonight, the only focus was on getting wasted.

you had dressed up in a tight fitting black dress that stopped midthigh specially for the occasion while shoko had opted for wide leg pants and a butterfly crop top.

specifically the butterfly crop top that a mutual fashion student friend of yours had made for her.

you raised an eyebrow at her once you felt your hair was securely up, dragging your eyes up and down the top she was wearing, “are you coming back tonight or…?”

“or am i getting laid by a certain very hot girl with blue hair? i’m getting laid,” shoko blew you a kiss with a grin. “you should try it some time,” she wriggled her eyebrows at you and it didn’t take a genius to know who she was hinting at.

in regards to her activities post-meimei’s, she had been getting closer to utahime over the last few months. you both knew her from high school but she’d avoided your group like the plague because of her strong disliking for gojo. you loved gojo, you really did, but to some he could come across as a bit much to those who didn’t know him well enough.

at university, however, where there was a bit more space between the four of you (not by much), utahime and shoko had managed to get more alone time. despite her confident and cocky nature, shoko’s soft affection for the blue haired girl was obvious and you had fully encouraged her to ask her on the first date several months back.

“you know that means i’m going to be stuck with dumb and dumber all evening,” you complained light-heartedly as you stepped out of the bathroom to try and find the shoes you’d be wearing. geto would be happy to hear that though – it meant he only had to find you and gojo when it came to coming home.

the four of you had only ever stayed over at meimei’s once. her house was massive and you all took over one of her guest bedrooms which in itself made for a fun sleepover. however, there’d been a group of guys – zenin naoya included – who’d been trying to coax you and shoko with them to a different room. moving on from then, geto had made it a point to almost always drive.

“oh no, is that such a hardship for you?”

you held up your finger to the brunette who was peering around the doorframe of the bathroom to smirk at you.

“you need to drop this.”

“nope,” shoko slipped past you, reaching into a pile of clothes to grab your silver strappy heels you were searching for. your living room was in just as much of a state as the bathroom with trial outfits and various accessories laid out on the sofa and floors. “i need some sort of fun here.” you scoffed at her reasoning, her fun at your expense, but still thanked her for finding your shoes.

the only clear space was on the small coffee table in front of the sofas where half a bottle of passionfruit vodka sat with two empty shot glasses. as you perched yourself on the edge of the sofa arm to start tying up your heels, shoko took it upon herself to pour the two of you another shot for the night.

you grimaced as shoko handed you a full shot glass, but interlocked your arm with hers nonetheless. “three, two, one,” she counted down before you both poured the drinks into your mouths. the distinctive after taste ensued and you coughed at the overwhelmingness.

“that’s nasty,” you stuck your tongue out and shoko snickered at you, having been completely unphased.

a low rumbling could be heard outside through the open window of your apartment. you glanced at the clock – they were five minutes late. not that it bothered you since you were still struggling untangling the straps of your other shoe.

“geto’s here,” shoko said, closing the window and pulling the curtains closed. you hummed in acknowledgement, muttering an ‘almost done’ when the vibrating sound of her phone went off. a picture of gojo wearing bright green goggles flashed up on the screen as shoko answered it. “yeah? yn’s just taking forever to put her shoes on.” you gave her a look. “yeah, i’ll tell her. geto told you to hurry up.”

“i am hurrying,” you shot back, tying the last bow. standing up, you pulled the skirt of your dress down so you didn’t flash anyone and did a little spin. “how do i look?”

“hot. we’re coming down now.”

“–and don’t accept drugs from strangers, i’m not dealing with another satoru situation,” geto said as he listed off the do’s and don’t’s for the evening. do’s including make sure you are always with someone you know and don’t’s including speaking to zenin naoya. not that the latter would be a difficult task.

gojo was dressed in a white fishnet top and he’d opted to forgo his glasses for the evening. instead, he’d decorated his eyes with blue eyeshadow and gems – his usual going out look since he’d watched euphoria. in the drivers seat, geto looked far more casual in an oversized grey top and baggy jeans but it wouldn’t be far fetched to say that he stood out the most out of the four of you. his sun kissed skin and sharp eyes were alluring to anyone who saw him. the most effort he’d put into his appearance was pulling his half back into his half bun, pulling some baby hairs out at the front to frame his features.

you’d caught yourself watching him from your seat one too many times with shoko even nudging your knee once.

“me?” gojo gasped from his passenger seat, looking back at you and shoko like geto had made some outlandish statement.

“don’t you remember that time you took drugs from that girl because you thought she’d let you hit after,” shoko reminded with an unlit cigarette between her lips (no smoking in the car – another don’t on geto’s list).

gojo cleared his throat, holding up his hands in defence, “look guys, i will be the first to admit it wasn’t my finest moment.”

that was an understatement. you’d been the one to find him after another party goer had recognised you as one of his friends and told you he was having a bad reaction. you almost felt bad when you found him upstairs in a bath, with a shower running all over him.

“you guys weren’t the ones who had to stay up till 4am while he cried in the bathroom,” geto shuddered at the memory and you were just grateful he’d taken over gojo’s care as soon as you’d called him.

“nope but i did have 15 voicemails from him the next day.”

again, gojo’s head snapped back, singling out only you this time, dread on his features. “you’ve never shown me these.” despite probably going out the most out of the four of you, his tolerance for alcohol was pitiful and his tolerance for any sort of substance was ten times worse. if it seemed like he had no filter beforehand, an under the influence gojo had to be supervised so he didn’t say something to the wrong person and ended up in a&e.

“i’m saving them for a special occasion,” you patted the top of his fluffy (and now also glittery) hair. it would probably end up in your annual slideshows you all did for new years eve. an ongoing tradition where each of you picked out your highlights of the year and made powerpoints with them.

once at meimei’s and out of the car, shoko gave you a quick side hug and told you to stay safe. “i am going to love you and leave you all,” she dramatically waved you away with one hand, the other holding a lighter up to the cigarette in her mouth. presumably, utahime was already somewhere around the back of the house waiting for shoko as opposed to inside where there were several dozen bodies already packed. “have a wonderful evening i will see you tomorrow for the debrief.”

the debrief in question being the mandatory coffee session post party to send each other pictures and make fun of how hungover gojo inevitably is.

“yn, come with me!” gojo slipped his hand into yours and dragged you through the sea of bodies out into the makeshift bar that had been set up in the corner of the living room. meimei’s house was massive, this room alone was probably larger than your entire apartment. geto had followed after you but he’d turned towards the crowd, opting to socialise over drinking whatever concoction gojo was about to make.

turning your attention back to the white haired male beside you, you cringe at the amount of liquid in the red cups. it was oddly graceful how gojo opened cupboards and grabbed bottles with no hesitation, haphazardly pouring them into each cup.

“how do you know where everything is?” you asked, leaning over to take a sniff from the drinks. surprisingly, it wasn’t awful, but you put that down to the lemon flavoured mixer he’d just added.

gojo lightly pushed your head back, shooing you away as he held up a bottle of malibu. after taking a neat sip (which you wanted to point out was not very hygienic but with what he was about to out into his body you doubted he cared), he poured in the final addition to your drinks. “look i’m number one meimei hater but i’d lying if i said i wasn’t a regular at this establishment.”

you scrunched up your nose at regularly attending a place like this. it was fun to a certain extent you could admit, but there was only so much of the pounding music and sweaty bodies that you could handle. “you need a life. beyond women,” you added once you caught his eye watching a short-haired ginger girl weaving through the crowd.

“oh honey i do. i dabble in both,” he winked at the pink haired boy following behind the girl and you quickly nudged him in the stomach with your elbow. you wanted at least ten minutes before he got distracted and tried to sleep with the first person that walks past him. gojo pouted, whining quietly, before making a miraculous recovery in order to hold out your drink to you. “try this.”

there was no countdown this time before you both began drinking. the alcohol burned your throat and the odd mixture of flavours had you calling it quits once the red cup was only halfway empty. you coughed twice as you dropped the drink back onto the table, wiping the excess liquid off of your lips. gojo committed to the entire drink, squeezing the plastic once he’d finished.

“delicious,” he grinned, already looking in the cupboards again to start up another mess. this was how he’d get borderline paralytic so quickly on nights out.

looking off at the crowd of huddled bodies ahead of you, it wasn’t difficult to spot geto who stood a head taller than everyone else. meimei had set up multi-coloured strobe lights that danced red and blue across his skin. he looked so effortlessly gorgeous.

you couldn’t help but feel disheartened as he ducked his head down to speak to the girl in front of him. you didn’t know her but you recognised her from one of your lectures – one that you also shared with geto and there was no doubt in your mind she’d noticed him before. who wouldn’t have?

reaching for your red cup again, you decided that you could wallow in self pity all you want but you were not doing that sober.

“he looks at you like that too.”

“huh?”

your gaze shifted from geto and the unnamed girl to gojo. the male in question had one hand on a bottle of vodka and one hand on his hip as he looked at you accusingly. your face felt hot at the insinuation that you’d been looking at your mutual best friend in a certain way and you tried to take the vodka bottle from his hand.

gojo held it up above your head, easily out of reach from you as he too stood taller than everyone else. “look all i’m saying is that he was not very happy that you were asking nanami kento for advice on your project and not him.”

you frowned at the fact, willing yourself not to overthink what that could mean. nothing, is what it meant.

you hadn’t even realised geto had still been in class when you’d spoken to nanami as he’d said he was going to the gym. the blond was smart and with you making a mess of your code when you were sick, you’d wanted a fresh set of eyes on it now that you’d somewhat cleaned it.

“why would i ask him? so he can sabotage me?” you countered. this was your chance to even the scoreboard in shoko’s notes.

“you are so smart, yn, so so smart,” gojo patted your head affectionately, arm slipping around your shoulders as he tugged you close to his body. he smelt like shoko, having stolen one of her perfumes the last time he was over. “and yet you’re dumb as fuck.”

“give me that.” you ignored the insult, which was pretty ironic coming from him of all people, and snatched the bottle from him, unscrewing the cap to fill up your cup.

“you can’t avoid it forever,” gojo sung but you were done listening to his unsolicited opinions, opting instead to console yourself with alcohol.

“have i ever told you how pretty your eyes are suguru?”

“you have. several times. all in the last five minutes actually,” geto sighed and you snickered at the two next to you.

unsurprisingly, gojo was using geto as a crutch (more like he was being dragged along by the latter but it was all the same) having drunk more than his body could handle. you were faring slightly better but only after you’d given up on your heels. the grass was uncomfortably damp beneath your feet but it was better than falling headfirst into the mud.

“goodie!” the white haired male giggled, almost tripping onto the ground as he struggled to keep up. you were glad you lived in separate apartments – you did not want to be there when gojo started coming down from the bubble he was in and spent the next several hours with his head in the toilet.

“you take the front seat,” geto nodded his head towards the passenger side, “i’m going to lay him in the back.”

you obliged with a quick nod, skipping to the seat next to his. there was still the buzz of alcohol in your system and you know had it not been for geto calling it a night, you’d still be in the thrum of people dancing. you were shocked that there had been no noise complaints given the crowds of probably hundreds of students and the loud music still blasting despite having gone well past midnight.

you giggled to yourself as you recorded geto struggle to fit gojo into the backseat. he was like a large child; awkward and stiff and too tall for the small space. by the time geto’d finally managed to get the seatbelt around him, he was practically passed out and leaning across the backseats. you sent the video across to shoko.

“have you heard from ieiri?” geto asked as he slipped into the driver’s seat, pushing the key into the ignition but not turning it. your heart swelled at the concern he held for all of you – ever the gentleman. he’d been the one to help you untie your heels and held them in one hand as he held gojo up with the other, and now he was worried about the final piece of your group who’d already been clear she wasn’t coming home with you. it was basic really, a bare minimum one could even argue, but you were drunk and your feelings were already all over the place.

“yep,” you nodded, scrolling to your most recent message that she’d sent to you about twenty minutes ago saying that she was leaving meimei’s. leaning across the console so that there is only a few inches between your face and geto’s, you hold a finger to your lips and whisper, “she’s with her girlfriend but you’re not supposed to know that.”

it wasn’t not not a secret that utahime and shoko were seeing each other but shoko had been trying to refrain from using ‘girlfriend’ because it was still early days and she didn’t want to scare her off. utahime had never been in a publicly lesbian relationship before.

“mhmm. i won’t tell.” you were close enough to smell the mint on his breath (he probably went out for a smoke at one point) and you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down at his lips. they were a soft pink and slightly damp from where his tongue had swiped across. in the corner of his lips was a small hole where he used to have a ring. you wondered what the cool metal would have felt like if you kissed him.

the sound of gojo muttering in his sleep brought you back to your senses, somewhat, and you quickly seated yourself back into the passenger seat. you could only hope that the drunken execution was as smooth as you thought it was in your head as you prayed geto didn’t notice your blatant glances.

you could see geto looking over at you out of the corner of your eye and you wanted to shrink away into the seat. you should’ve let gojo pour you another one of those awful drinks. he opened his mouth to say something but when you remained focused on pulling down the skirt of your dress, he chose to just start the car.

a ping from your phone had you frowning at an unknown number sending you ‘hi’. the follow up ‘it’s todo’ and ‘are you still here?’ had you groaning in annoyance at yourself.

“are you okay?” geto glanced at you, worry flashing across his features. you weren’t sure if it was for you or if he was concerned that you were about to be sick in his precious car.

“i gave todo my number,” you sighed. you could vaguely remember doing it after he’d joined you, gojo and several others for jello shots. after seeing geto with the same girl from your tuesday morning lectures, you hadn’t hesitated when todo had asked for your number. a futile attempt at getting back at the male sat to your right. you were already embarrassed by your actions now, you didn’t want to know how you’d feel tomorrow when you were sober.

if you turned your head, you would have seen the way geto’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, the skin of his knuckles turning white. but you didn’t and his voice was unsuspiciously calm as he spoke. “did you want his number?”

“no, maybe, i don’t know,” you rambled out in quick succession, hands moving in front of yourself as you spoke. you had wanted his number but you didn’t want it because it was his number. maybe this was an opportunity for you to stop with your silly crush. maybe you did want his number. taking half a moment, you continued, “well, i mean he’s not not attractive? but–” i want you.

“but?” geto repeated when you stopped yourself mid-sentence. resting your head against the headrest, you turned to look at him. you found yourself tracing the outline of his side profile with your eyes – from the stray hairs that had clung to his forehead from sweat due to the heat at meimei’s, his brows that were furrowed as his dark eyes stared on ahead at the quiet roads, the soft shape of his nose down to his lips that you desperately wanted to ki– “you’re staring.”

you glanced at the intersection where you’d stopped because of the red light shining down at you, then back to geto who’s full attention was on you now. his own eyes were wandering across you now but his action seemed one of concern than your blatant admiration.

“do you…” you began, all inhibition foregone as you found yourself leaning across the console again towards him. geto’s hands dropped down from steering wheel to lightly hold your shoulders to ensure you didn’t sleep. it didn’t stop you from moving closer – he wasn’t trying to.

“do i…?”

geto wasn’t stopping you but he wasn’t encouraging you either. you stilled entirely when your faces had only a couple of centimetres away from each other. “would you stop me if i kissed you?” your voice was no louder than a whisper to the point you weren’t even sure if he had heard you.

there was a moment, a moment that you swear was real and not a figment of your drunken imagination, where you think geto was fully contemplating your question, just about to close the gap. the harsh sound of a horn ruined the trance you both seemed to be under and geto was back to focusing solely on the road.

you hurriedly settled back into your seat, running your hands across your face and pushing the stray hairs away from your face. your heart was racing, whether it was from the alcohol, the jumpscare from the horn or the realisation of what you almost just did, you weren’t sure.

“jeez, what did satoru give you?” he muttered aloud, though more to himself than you or the sleeping male in the backseat. his little snores may have been endearing if you didn’t also blame him for everything that just took place. ‘he looks at you like that too’ – he owed you at least a week's worth of coffee and doughnuts for putting the thoughts in your head.

“that was ages ago, i’m clear minded.” you were not clear minded at all. you wished shoko was here. you wish you weren’t.

“sure you are,” geto scoffed quietly under his breath. if he was annoyed at you, you needed to start plotting how you’d avoid him for the next few years.

“satoru said something,” you said when the silence became so unbearable you thought your mind would simply implode. the roads were familiar but you knew you still had a while before you got to your apartment. assuming geto didn’t banish you to the side of the street for trying to kiss him.

geto was frowning again and you wanted nothing more for the lines to disappear from his forehead. he was too pretty to get wrinkles. “what did he say?”

“what did you say?” you spun around in your seat to see the white haired male unceremoniously spread across the backseats, mouth hanging open. absolutely no help, as per. “fuck, he’s still asleep.” you closed your eyes as you thought back to your conversation with gojo when you’d first gotten to meimei’s. “he said you didn’t like i went to kento for help.”

“that means i want to kiss you?” geto seemed almost… amused? his usual confident demeanour seemed to be returning as he shot you a glance, the tension from his shoulders dissipating.

“no, ieiri said that. kinda.” you chose to leave out the specific explicit detail of what shoko actually implied. the hole was deep enough, you didn’t need to dig any further.

“why aren’t you saying anything?” you asked after several beats.

“because you’re drunk.”

“oh.” what did that even mean?

you picked at the black nail varnish on your nails, willing the minutes to go by faster. maybe if you’re lucky you won’t remember any of this tomorrow and geto will pity you enough to never remind you.

“i would let you kiss me,” geto spoke so quietly you were scared you’d misheard him. you even looked back at gojo for confirmation that he had in fact just said those words. he was, however, still asleep and still useless. with one hand staying on the steering wheel, geto used the other to gently stop you from ruining your nail varnish any further. “would you let me kiss you?”

you were finding it hard not to smile like a little kid. you didn’t care what this meant – geto suguru said that he would let you kiss him. a win is a win. “depends if you’re good or not. i have standards, y’know.”

“of course,” he patted your thigh twice before returning his hands to the steering wheel. if you thought your heart was racing before, it was now running loops at a thousand miles per hour.

several minutes later, geto pulled the car to a final stop. “this is your place,” he said but you weren’t really focused on that, you were entirely focused on him. the car wasn’t moving anymore and he could look and speak (and maybe even kiss you) without any car horns or other external distractions.

except you weren’t entirely right in that assumption as your shameless staring was interrupted by a particular loud snore from the backseat.

you forgot gojo was still there.

letting out a quiet sigh, you picked up your shoes from behind geto’s seat and pointed several stories up to your apartment. looking up at geto as pathetically as you could muster, since not even embarrassment would convince you to walk on the pebbled path, you asked, “help me?”

not another word was spoken between the two of you until you had entered your apartment. geto had lifted you from the car bridal style and you’d cherished the few seconds so close to him. he set you down once you were in the building of your apartment but stayed by your side as you walked up the stairs.

“drink this,” geto handed you a glass of tap water he had poured and you thank him quietly as you sip it. he avoided eye contact with you as he passed by you in the direction of your bedroom. when he came back out several moments later he gestured for you to enter the room. “i laid out some clothes for you and put out some paracetamol, you’re going to have an awful headache when you wake up. so whilst you’re being pathetic here, i’m going to be up bright and early finishing that project. then it’ll be me two up.”

you laughed quietly at the notion, walking past him. “thank you suguru.” tiredness was beginning to seep deep into your bones and you craved the softness of your mattress more than you did his attention right now.

geto was still stood in the doorway, watching you from afar. clearing his throat, he pointed to the keys in his hand – keys for his car, your apartment, his apartment and the sweet safe he kept hidden from gojo. “i’ll lock the door with my spare key. night princess.”

you were an idiot who was never drinking again – that was your only thought when you woke up.

after taking the paracetamol that geto had left for you and finishing the glass of water off, you waited another ten minutes for the painkillers to kick in and subside your headache and then you just lay there. last night definitely wasn’t your worst but it was far from your best. between unopened messages from todo and a large question mark over your friendship with geto, you just wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

‘i would let you kiss me.’

geto suguru would let you kiss him. was that a confession in itself? you groaned, you wished the world was black and white and that was exactly what was meant and you knew that and didn’t have a voice in the back of your head conjuring up twenty other possible meanings.

you’d skipped your usual debrief with the others, sending shoko a message that you were headed straight to the library. she knew your project was important but she also knew that you’d had closer deadlines and still attended both the saturday night party and following debrief. still, she didn’t push you to come and just told you that you’d talk in the evening when you were both home before offering to grab you something sweet from the shops.

you weren’t lying about going to the library – you just left out the whole geto moment.

after showering and eating some food, you didn’t get to the library till gone noon. nanami was already down there and you apologised for being late. why you arranged to work with him the day after going out, you weren’t entirely sure, but past you clearly expected you to make a miraculous recovery.

several bottles of water and paracetamol kept you functioning enough that you were able to make good progress on your work with nanami proof checking every now and then. gojo’s voice was in the back of your head – you could be spending your time with geto doing this instead of nanami.

that was no hate to nanami, you thought he was super sweet and helpful, but he wasn’t geto.

you weren’t sure what had been discussed at the debrief but you had received several more cryptic messages from shoko that had made you put your phone on do not disturb. you were already reliving last night’s car ride home over and over in your head, you didn’t need to know everyone else was too.

with the evening creeping closer and the snacks that nanami had brought dwindled, the blond stood up from his seat beside you and nodded downstairs. “i’m heading down to the vending machine, do you want me to grab you something?”

you shook your head, leaning back in your seat and rubbing your eyes. “i’ll just have whatever you get.”

you wanted desperately to go home and back to your bed to sleep for the next twelve hours (had to be up in time for your 8am close, though) but you were dreading talking to shoko about geto. the conversation would go one of two ways; either she already knew and would inevitably tease you or would have to explain it to her, get her live reaction and then be teased. neither seemed fun.

the sound of footsteps had you turning your head in the direction of possible food. the library was too quiet for your stomach to rumble.

your smile dropped when you saw who was standing next to you.

“hey suguru,” you swallowed, sitting up straight in your chair and pushing your hair back behind your ears. being nonchalant didn’t matter now and no amount of pretending you didn’t try to kiss him last night would actually make it not happen.

“hey,” he waved before stuffing both his hands in his pockets. he must have just come from the gym – his hair was still wet and he was in his usual post-gym hoodie and shorts. it was odd, to see geto not sure of what to say or odd, appearing almost out of place. a pang of guilt washes over you – you created this situation.

scratching the back of your neck, you pointed at nanami’s seat next to you on your right, “you looking for help from nanami too?”

you were joking, obviously, geto wouldn’t need his help, and you hoped your weak attempt at humour would at least ease some of the tension. he cracked a smile as he raised a brow at you, “why? you think i need it?”

“all i’m saying is don’t come crying to me when i come out on top,” you raised your hands in defence, smiling with him. geto rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue. he pulled out the seat to your left, dropping down next to you.

that silence settled between the two of you again. geto was hard to read as he looked down at you, his dark eyes searching for something in yours. you swallowed again as you felt your throat dry up.

“are you avoiding me?”

your eyes widened at the forwardness although you tried to play off your shock (extremely unsuccessfully). “why would i possibly do that?”

geto shrugged, that familiar smirk appearing on his lips, “i told you that i’d let you kiss me and you don’t even want to at least ask me what that means?”

“do i want to know what it means?” you countered quietly. you were glad the library was pretty much empty and you just hoped that nanami stayed downstairs as long as possible. it felt odd to be so publicly vulnerable.

“god," geto looked thoroughly amused as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling and then looked back at you. "you’re dense sometimes.”

you frowned, turning back to your laptop screen with your project. you weren’t here to be mocked. “if you’re here to make fun of me, i’m sorry, let’s just forget this all ever happ–”

geto spun you around, hands on both arms of your chair and suddenly you were back in his car with his hands on your shoulders and your lips brushing against his, “come with me.”

“right now? to where?” nanami was about to return any second, you couldn’t just up and leave him.

“i’ll take you to the sushi place you love,” geto offered, leaning over to close the screen of your laptop. like taking away your access to your project would lead you to the conclusion that going with him was the only possible outcome (as if though there was any outcome in any scenario where you didn’t pick him).

you hesitated at the idea. if he was asking you to go out after saying that you could kiss him it was definitely not a stretch to assume that your feelings were reciprocated. “like… a date?”

“well princess that’s what girlfriends and boyfriends do is it not?” he posed the question in such a casual and natural manner that you had to bite down on your lower lip to try and control your grin.

“yeah,” you nodded, interlacing one of your hands with his, “yeah, it is.”

you made a mental note to bring an extra coffee for nanami next lecture as an apology for disappearing.

bonus, several weeks later.

you had come out on top when it came to your project, being only several marks ahead of geto. he hadn’t been all that bothered, saying that he’d let you have the win since you’d had to resort to nanami for help (and he was head over heels for you and would probably flunk every future project and exam if it meant you’d be happy).

you found out that in the debrief that you missed, gojo and shoko practically demanded that geto ask you on a date because they couldn’t allow the two of you to keep going round in circles with each other any longer. needless to say your second debrief with shoko once you came home after your sushi date was a long one that covered both of your current love interests.

for the last few weeks, it had been about adjusting to the new dynamics that a relationship had brought to your group. it was little things like geto picking you up every morning before class and gojo having to decide who to third wheel when it came to parties.

one thing that had not changed was the existence of the list between you and geto.

the german test you had taken the day prior was the first test you’d both completed since your project. this was the deciding test as to who would be on top again.

“wake up, wake up,” you nudged geto’s arm repeatedly, the male in question groaning as he tried to hit you away with a pillow. if someone told you a month ago you’d be waking up in his shirt, in his bed, with him, you would have laughed.

when your insistent poking didn’t work, you climbed ungracefully across him, your knees resting on either side of his slim waist. that caught his attention and he opened one eye to peer up at what you were doing,

“look,” you practically shoved your phone in his face, the screen too bright for his eyes to adjust to.

“okay?” geto squinted, trying to read the black text unsuccessfully.

you sighed when he didn’t get it fast enough, “it’s our test scores. i have seven more percent than you therefore i am winning.”

“hold on,” he grabbed your wrist as you tried to move your phone away from his face and pointed at the email your lecturer had sent out. “you’re still only second place in the class.”

“yeah wait,” you slipped your wrist from his grip, rereading the email twice as your face dropped in disbelief.

“what?”

poor geto was wincing again as you spun the screen back to him again, “what the fuck?”

with an almost perfect score, for a class he spent more time playing dress to impress in, was the gojo satoru.

#𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 #geto suguru #geto #suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto fic #geto drabble #geto fluff #getou suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #suguru x you

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thebibliosphere · 8 months

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Hi! How are you doing? Sorry to bother you, but i dont know many scottish people and idk who to talk to about this book I found on audible. It's called Imogène, by french author Charles Exbrayat. Do you know him /the book? I've started reading it but I had to pause because, while being sold as a "humorous spy story" I find the protagonist, a "very proudly scottish" woman, to be... an offensive caricature? Like she acts like a fool, honestly. This book contains some interesting points about sexism (it was published in 1959), and ridiculous british habits (such as employees forced to give money for princess anna's birthday or being socially scorned). I'm sure the shared dislike / distrust the protagonist and her british colleagues feel are (were?) realistic. But she is so extra, and the story keeps telling how lonely she is, even after working 20 years in london. She has No friends, most acquitances dont talk to her for various motivations, her bosses hates her ... idk I feel this book is actually mocking scottish people? Or scottish women??? I was SO there for a "strong woman protagonist who gives cutting remarks to her boss or peers", but this looks wrong. Idk. I didnt know whom ask for inputs. Maybe i'm reading too much into it. Feel free to ignore this mega rant. Have a good day!

I think cultural and historical context and time of publication-- which was almost 70 years ago --are important factors to take into consideration when we look at fiction through our current expectations.

I can’t speak to the book as I’ve never read it, but speaking as a Scots woman who worked for an English publishing house for a while, being made to feel alienated by my boss and others due to being Scottish was unfortunately still something going on in 2011.

I’d get lots of “Oh but you sound so eloquent” remarks regarding my thinned-out accent (something I did on purpose to avoid being told to “speak properly” which was also something I heard a lot in school if I ever used my native Scots language instead of “Queen’s English.”) and one time my boss referred to me as “their civilized Scot” to an American author, whose Scottish romance book I was supposed to be fixing the dialogue on.

The phrasing was along the lines of, “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to understand her. Joy is our civilized Scot.”

The author laughed and made another derogatory comment about how they just loved Scottish accents even if it was unintelligible a lot of the time. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't want to lose my first career job.

I kept my mouth shut a lot in that job.

In that regard I could very well empathize with the character being lonely and not engaging with anyone, even after 20 years.

The proud Scottish woman can be a bit of a caricature, but that doesn't necessarily mean it is intended as mocking.

Again, cultural/historical context matters.

I wasn’t alive in 1959, but I know there was a lot of Scottish media about the time that leaned into the stubbornness and pride of Scots women both for humor and to make societal commentary on the fact that women were strong and more independent than they’d ever been following two world two and a lot of men weren’t happy about it and wanted them to go back into their boxes. As a result the mouthy, proud Scots woman became a mockable caricature that turned women into shrill, over proud scolds.

Get back in your box or we’ll make fun of you, basically.

So is this book being mocking, or is it employing popular tropes of the time, knowing that audience will understand what it means and that the female protagonist is being subversive despite what others expect from her?

I can’t say. Again, haven’t read it. It could be utter dogshit and making total fun of my culture. But I do think when looking at older media we need to put our thinking caps on and think, “How would the audience of the time, 1959, have viewed and engaged with this?”

Expecting a “strong female protagonist” as we know it from media today isn’t going to work with media that’s almost 70 years old.

Hell, the “strong woman protagonist” wasn’t even something any piece of media could agree on when I was growing up in the 90s.

Times change. Literary tropes and preferences change. It helps to keep that in mind.

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tofupixel · 9 days

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it’s taken me like five times to make this message cause I don’t want to sound lame lol. but, I wanted to say that you are one of my favorite artists out there. I never thought I could be a person that would be able to pursue something like this before. but, with a lot of courage and inspiration from artists like you I am. 💗 I even made this account to show small forms of art I am able to make from practice to someday pieces I’m really proud of. I hope to make others happy through what I make just like you do. earlier this year was a difficult time in my life and I’d like to thank you as being one of the people who helped me through it. I hope you have a good day! and if this is answered publicly, to anyone reading. you can do anything you want to and you deserve to live and be as perfect as you already are.

thanks so much, i don't really know what to say, i don't know how much credit i can take for you yourself taking the initiative and making great art... 😥💕 but ive been going thru a rough burnout so its really nice to hear today. thank u for sharing it

#qna

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grapejuicestyless · 1 year

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I Just Want To Be Loved.

Harry Styles x Fem!Reader

Summery: It’s been the long haul for you and Harry. You spent everyday together for years. Recently, all you’ve been doing is spending your time apart. Is it so much to ask for him to come home?

Love on tour was there full definition of love. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and a kindness that seemed unique purely for the shows within it. Friendships blossomed in every section and fans showed their appreciation with projects projecting rainbows and meaningful messages to prove it. It was everything you’d think love could be.

So it made sense as to why Harry kept adding more shows, prolonging the inevitable end of the years he’d spent away from home. He, just as much as anyone else, loved to be loved. I couldn’t blame him. If I was him, I would’ve done the same.

Yet still, even though the tour was pure fluff and happiness, it drew a bubbling sadness from deep within every time he frolicked onto that stage. A sparkly, blinding reminder that once again, he was out making a name and I was at home, holding onto the ounces of love he shared over the phone each night.

The excitement coursing through me when he announced the final shows was extreme. Though I pretended to be bummed for the sad ending, and the tough parting from the band and the fans, I couldn’t be more happy to get my Harry back.

I longed for those peaceful moments in the mornings, my hands tracing his nose and his fingers playing with my hair until our touches became lazy and we dozed back off into a light slumber. I missed those loving times that were stolen from me with every new date added.

It felt selfish, to want to take such a core memory from the fans, people who Harry adored like his friends. People I’d grown to love throughout the years of our friendship and eventually our relationship. I’d had Harry at my fingertips for years, they only had him for a night. Yet it was so hard to share him.

Thinking deeply, I fought with my inner thoughts about the delicate line that was selfish and justified until my phone buzzed in a heartbeat pattern on the kitchen counter.

Turning it over, I watched Harry’s name pop up, hearts decorated around his name, “H,” as I had set it as on my phone.

I leaned forward, forearms resting against the cold countertops and the ripped collar of Harry’s shirt twisted between my fingers while I waited happily for the image of Harry to load up on my screen.

“Hi, Baby!” He called excitedly in all his post show sweaty glory. He had curls stuck to his forehead and his cheeks were shiny and sparkling under the yellow lighting of his hotel room.

“Hi, H. How was your show?” I laughed at his exasperation. He made it obvious that he had rushed into his room to call me, the heavy breathing he tried to muffle and the quickness of his chest giving him away.

“Amazing, baby. It’s just so crazy that it’s real, you know? They all came for me and my band! It’s always so surreal seeing sold out stadiums with people who came for my music.” He rambled, the same speech every single time. How he felt so lucky that something so grand could have happened to someone so average like him, even if he was far from average in my eyes.

Still, my cheeks hurt from smiling. Seeing him happy was the greatest happiness of all, to me.

“You know you deserve it. Worked so hard these past few years and now you get to celebrate it with the people who love you. I’m so proud of you.” Our eyes met, a comfortable silence forming while our smiles turned into shy giggles and eyes averting from each other like school children in love.

“I love playing for these people. I cant believe how lucky I am to be with them almost everyday of the week.” I nodded, not feeling the need to respond.

“So, that’s why my team and I were thinking…” He led me into it with false hope. Hope that he was going to say something about coming home to throw a party where I could remain attached to his hip and love on him as he did to me.

“We’re going to add a few more shows before we finish off the tour.” I nodded, still smiling.

“Like in between? Don’t you think that will be too many shows in a week?” I asked, blinded by my excitement to see him. Silence fell over the phone call, this one heavier and more tense.

“Well, not exactly.” He tried to start explaining. The smile hurting my cheeks slowly faded into a confused gaze, proudness and glee turning into hurt and a heart breaking realization.

“We were thinking of adding a few more shows in Asia and Italy around September time. Maybe even have another Harryween in the states!” He explained, looking at the ceiling. His hands eventuated his explanation dramatically, like always.

All I could do was stay silent, heart pounding into my ears and a lump in my throat expanding into a dull ache that only seemed to rise.

“Y/n, isn’t that great?” My face was frozen, eyes widened and looking straight into the blurry green ones on the glitchy FaceTime call.

“Y/n?” He called again, his voice sounding more concerned.

Maybe it was my lack of response, or the tears welling in my eyes. Maybe it was that he thought I was frozen and couldn’t hear him, or maybe all three. But I was stuck. Stuck between wanting to support all of his decisions, trying to do what was best for him and wanting to just be selfish for just a moment.

I wanted to scream at him not to add anymore shows. I wanted to yell at him for making me wait for him for so long. I wanted to be overly emotional until I turned into putty in my own hands. Yet, even in my own conflict, I couldn’t find it in me to say no to him.

“Yeah, that…that sounds great, Harry. Really, I’m excited for you.” He nodded, not fully convinced.

“O…okay. Y/n, are you okay, you look a little pale. Have I said something?” What haven’t you said? You’ve just told me your leaving me yet again.

Stay? Just stay? Please, I want to be loved. I just want to be loved. I want to be loved by you and only you. I want you to forget about everything and just let it be us again.

“No, no. I’m just getting tired. It’s getting late over here. I’d better get to bed. Goodnight, H.” My tone was monotone, lacking any emotional depth behind it. It was obvious everything I said was a lie, but he let himself accept it halfway.

“Okay, sleep well. Call me when you wake up, okay? I love you. Goodnight, baby.” I hung up the phone, throwing it as soon as it beeped to a silence. The rage I felt was ungodly. It was pent up, having been stuffed down like a gross mass of phlegm bubbling up, waiting to be spat out.

Suddenly, the lump in my throat expanded to a broken cry, a painful rip rippling down my body. An ache that had been dull for the past few months coming full surge at me in one painful swoop.

I just wanted to be loved, was that too much to ask for?

———————————————————————-

Part 2 will be coming 🫶

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst

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fluentmoviequoter · 6 months

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Driver’s Seat

Pairing: Dominique Luca x fem!reader

Summary: At a classic car show, you meet the only gentleman in attendance and bond over a mutual love for cars.

Warnings: fluff! 1.2k+ words

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent (it’s about me and my car) but I figured I could share it anyway. Happy daydreaming about Luca!😊

“Nice car.”

You bristle, prepared for some variant of nicer driver or bet you look good in it.

“What year? ‘76 or ‘77?”

At the continued discussion of the car, you turn. You’ve seen Dom Luca around car shows before, but haven’t had the chance or a reason to talk to him yet. His kind smile helps you relax and you offer a smile in return. Being a woman at a car show is like travelling back in time to when the cars were new; you’re treated differently here than anywhere else.

“1977,” you answer. “Good eye. You’re Dom Luca, right? You brought a gorgeous 1956 Buick Special a few months ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me. Friends just call me Luca. I’m stuck with a ‘68 Charger this month. But your car is a beauty.”

“Thanks! I still have a ton of work to do before she’s finished, but I’m proud of everything I’ve managed to do.”

“You should be. Sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”

You smile as you extend your hand and say your name. Luca’s handshake is firm, and you appreciate the respect he shows you. It’s refreshing, and you’re glad your mental image of him from past shows holds up. He’s a gentlemen in a world where there aren’t many left.

“Any chance you have before pictures? I haven’t gotten my hands on a Nova yet but I know good work when I see it. Do it all yourself?”

You pull your phone from your pocket and navigate to your photo albums as you nod. “I did as much as I could. Had a lot of amazing people to help too.”

As you turn your phone to scroll through the before pictures, Luca moves to stand closer. His shoulder presses against yours, and you freeze momentarily before swiping to the next picture.

“Is that you?” Luca asks excitedly.

The picture of you smiling in the driver’s seat after the first test drive is one of your favorites. It was such a special moment, and having it immortalized in a photo is priceless. Luca’s attention, however, makes you a bit shy and you nod before swiping away quickly.

“There’s no shame in being excited. First drives are a special kind of rush,” he assures. “It’s a good picture, too.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Everything original?”

You appreciate the change of subject, happier to focus on the car rather than its owner.

“Yeah, it is. Straight 6, automatic transmission, even the color is the same.”

“Now that takes real talent. Anyone can cover a classic in aftermarket parts, but original? That’s impressive.”

As you turn to face Luca, you realize how close he’s standing. Face-to-face, eye-to-eye, lip-to-lip… you know you should step back but you don’t want to. Luca smiles like he feels the same before his eyes drop to your phone.

“Care for another picture?” he asks. “It’s your first entry into a car show right?”

Someone whistles behind you and shatters the moment. Luca looks over your shoulder as he steps back. You can tell he wants to say something, but you shake your head. It’s always like this, you communicate with a shrug.

“Can I see the Charger you’re stuck with? Though I’d love to get my hands on a ‘69, so I don’t see it as the unfortunate situation you do,” you say with a smile.

Luca’s shoulders drop as he relaxes and steps to the side. He leads you down the row and around a booth at the end. The black Charger is beautiful, and your eyes widen as you walk the length of it.

“Luca,” you murmur. “It’s perfect.”

Luca presses his lips together to hide his smile. He said his friends call him Luca, and it sounds right coming from your lips. After thanking you, Luca pops the trunk open and points to a nearly invisible metallic L welded to the side.

“For Luca?” you ask, once again standing directly at Luca’s side.

“My brother and I work on these cars together. We, uh, didn’t talk for a while, so now that we’re close again, we like putting something in every car.”

“That’s amazing. I- do you have one more minute to spare?”

“If you compliment the car again, maybe I’ll give you two.”

“The body work on this is impeccable. Better than original. Like always,” you compliment.

“Lead the way.”

You unlock the passenger door and open the glovebox of your car. A laminated piece of paper and a photo are in your hands, and you pass them to Luca.

“1987,” he reads. “You have an old title registration for this car? Do you know how rare that is? Was it in the car?”

“Look at the picture,” you answer.

“I take it back. The first drive photo isn’t your best.”

You chuckle at the idea that the photo he’s holding is your best. In it, you’re less than 10 years old, sitting in the driver’s seat like you belong, and it’s proof that you’ve loved this car for nearly your entire life.

“Took me a while to get started on it, but it was worth the wait,” you muse. “Most good things are.”

“So, when you came to shows before, were you looking for inspiration or people to hire?” Luca asks as he passes the papers back.

With the memories of your family’s history with the car secure in the glovebox, you return your attention to Luca.

“You’re different than I thought you’d be,” you say. His face drops, and you add, “I knew you’d be a gentleman, but I didn’t think you’d let me talk to your ear off about my car. And yours.”

“You’d be surprised how long I’d listen to you.”

You playfully roll your eyes before someone yells Luca’s name.

“What are you planning to do next?” Luca asks, pointing to your car.

“Dom!” the man repeats, louder.

“Do you need to go?” you ask.

“My brother,” Luca says. “He can wait. Tell me what’s next. Finish this one and call it good, or are you going to be around with more cars?”

“I’d love to restore another car. Actually, a truck. An old boxy one that needs the love, or a Harvester.”

“1950s Harvester is my dream project,” Luca agrees.

“Finding one that isn’t in a scrap heap seems…”

“Impossible,” you and Luca say together.

“If you ever get your hands on one, send me lots of pictures?” you request as Luca’s brother approaches.

“What if I ask for your help instead?” Luca suggests.

“Why me?”

Luca smiles like he knows something you don’t. He introduces you to his brother, Terry, and shakes your hand again before leaving to talk to a salesman. A paper is transferred to your palm during the shake, and when he’s gone, you look at it. Luca’s phone number accompanies a short message, and your smile grows until your cheeks hurt.

Talk my ear off before the next show? I’d love to learn more about the girl in the car.

When he had time to write this, you don’t know. But you do know your answer. You text Luca that you’d love that, and he turns to wink at you before asking the men around him if anyone knows of a Harvester still on the market.

#dominique luca x reader #hanna writes✯#dominique luca #luca x reader #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader

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zexapher · 4 months

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Art Imitates Life

Had this idea in my back pocket for what must be a few months now, but after Akumu_Oukoku’s wonderful ‘Weiss is silly’ meme, I thought I’d finally put this one together. That, and I wanted to make a little something to celebrate White Knight’s glorious victory in Ship Wars 8! The hordes of r/fnki well and truly descended upon the tournament, and all the better for White Knight!

I think there were a few folks on the regular sub that hadn’t quite realized just how popular White Knight had become within the community, but fnki itself has turned into something of a fortress for the ship, and the results of the tourney speak for themselves. White Knight really wound up dominating, becoming champion by an overwhelming margin, and with just Lancaster and Nuts & Dolts putting up strong competition in the previous rounds.

I’m impressed, and super stoked. It’s really something special seeing White Knight come out so strong after so many years treated as a pariah, having never before made it past the first round but now becoming the champion. The stars had aligned, really. The final round taking place on Weiss’ birthday, White Knight winning the championship being the perfect gift. Volume 9 had given the ship strong foundations to stand on. We can see that expressed in not only the various memes put out over time, but also in the A-Jaune-da alliance and numerous comments inundating the polls in order to promote the ship. White Knight shippers really had an incredibly strong messaging campaign this tournament, I might say no one else came close, and we always kept it positive. Everyone involved should feel proud.

Now, as for this meme, I chose these six characters (and Weiss) because I found it rather appropriate that they have all to some extent shipped White Knight in canon. Jaune, of course, is an obvious one. The story is littered with examples for him all the way through. Similarly, Weiss has been growing fonder of Jaune throughout the show, but Volume 9 saw her interest revealed in a very pronounced manner. Nora has the most tenuous claim here, having shared few moments with Weiss. However, Nora has a moment in Volume 5 where she teases Weiss about liking Jaune’s nickname, going on to tease the Ice Queen about her thawed heart.

Oscar, of course, gets his absolutely stoked look that he throws at Jaune when Weiss accepts Jaune’s invitation to the movies. Like, Oscar is just so happy for his big bro. Blake has a moment or two over the course of the show, notably her happy little glance between Jaune and Weiss at the Argus reunion, her smug look at the ~mature~ line, and how she perks up at Weiss’ giggle with Jaune about his restored youth. No real surprise there, since Blake is actually Jaune’s offscreen super-secret best friend. Yang herself throws a little dating advice Jaune’s way, and gets her ‘one day’ line, when our boy was down in the dumps following a rejection or two. She points out to Weiss that her harshness rejecting Jaune is the sort of thing that earned her the Ice Queen nickname. And, like Blake, Yang gets her own smug look following the ~mature~ line. Then there’s my most controversial addition to this list, Pyrrha. After all, she did walk Jaune through how to ask Weiss to the dance.

Yes, this was all an excuse for me to make a post about every little scrap from the show suggesting the characters ship White Knight. If anyone can think of any more, feel free to share. Maybe Cindere killing Jaune’s rival love interests, yet her attempts on Weiss’ life seem to have only helped Jaune and Weiss grow closer, hmmm. Well, I hope you all enjoy, I had good fun making it!

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sweetkpopmusings · 2 months

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long for you (interlude) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: here's the interlude! only one more part of the fic left after this </3 this one is angsty, but i hope you enjoy it nevertheless >.< currently at work so i might make edits to it later lol if you want to be added to the tag list, you can reply to this post or send me an ask! pics not mine <3

♡ find all parts here ♡

content: fluff, romance, fake dating, angst, a happy ending | wc: 3.7k | warnings: mentions of food/eating, lots of crying | pairing: nonbinary!painter!hyunjin x gn!writer!reader | requests: open

synopsis: y/n is a writer with a long-awaited, well-deserved career opportunity. despite the excitement, there’s one major problem: the publisher expects a modern love story, equally romcom-like and authentic, but y/n lacks the inspiration to write something worth reading. through a chance meeting with mutual friends, y/n and hyunjin bond over upcoming deadlines and creative blocks. before the conversation ends, they discover that the ridiculous plot of fake dating might just work to solve their inspirational dry spell.

interlude: love untold

“y/n!”

a familiar voice calls your name. you look around the crowd, searching for anyone you recognize, not quite sure what you’re trying to find. when you see his face, you understand why the way he called your name sounded so much like home.

chan hurries over the second you wave to him, and you instinctively smile at his lopsided curls bouncing with each step he takes. you melt into his bear hug, warmed by the contact and the closeness of his bright smile. it’s only once you realize that he has run into you here that you feel a tiny wave of shock roll over you.

“wait, chan,” you tilt your head, “how are you…why are you here?”

he laughs, “i’m just as surprised to see you, y/n. i’m here interviewing for a new job.”

“oh wow! that’s great! how did it go?”

“i have the interview tomorrow, actually. i figured i’d get in a day early to feel out the area and make sure i like it.”

“and? what’s your review so far?”

chan’s excited grin is replaced by a soft smile, “seeing you makes it perfect.”

with a simple sentence, chan has you blushing the way you did as a teenager. it didn’t take much to fall into the old rhythm with him: easy conversation, light touches, inside jokes suddenly at the front of your mind despite not having been uttered in years. you two could have lost yourselves in each other’s presence anywhere, but chan suggests you migrate into a coffee shop to continue the conversation. as your agenda for the rest of the day is empty, you lead chan to a nearby coffee shop, relaxing into your seat with your favorite drink and the comfort of an old companion.

“so, tell me everything that’s been going on with you!”

you laugh, “chan. we haven’t seen each other in what, two, three years now? i hardly think telling you everything is possible.”

“i thought you said you had the rest of the night free?”

you roll your eyes, and chan giggles at his own joke. quietly, you prioritize what information to share, careful not to spiral and think about how much has changed since your last conversation with chan.

“i guess i can start with the fact that i got a book deal.”

chan just about drops his drink, “no way, y/n! that’s amazing! wow! i knew you’d do it one day. i know it has been your dream for ages. i’m so proud of you!”

“thank you, chan,” you pause to ensure he knows the depth of your gratitude, “it is a ghostwriting contract, so my name won’t be on it, but it feels surreal that someone’s paying me to write a book.”

“do you know when it’ll come out? i need to be first in line to buy it.”

“i honestly have no idea, but i’m turning in the manuscript tomorrow. the first draft of it, anyway.”

“wooooow,” chan leans back in his chair, “i’m so impressed. you’re like a big-time author now.”

“okay, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you scoff, still complimented by his pride in you, “but what about you? what brings you here for a new job?”

“eh, nothing as exciting as your news. i just want something new. i haven’t been feeling inspired with the work i do now, and i need a change of scenery. i moved back home after we…you know. it was great to go back to my roots. it’s time for me to move forward, turn a new page, start a life where no one knows me. at least that was the plan until i ran into you.”

you both laugh, and you reply, “if your interview tomorrow goes well, i can act like i don’t know you, so things can go according to plan.”

chan laughs boyishly, the way you always remembered it, “i appreciate your support, but i’d hate nothing more than for you to forget about me.”

you nod. you’d often caught yourself wondering whether chan still thought about you, whether he remembered any details of you and your life together. the space between you two was never supposed to grow this vast, but you figure that’s just how these things go sometimes. you feel a pang in your chest, sitting across from him, aware of how much he still means to you, despite it all.

“not to draw attention to the elephant in the room,” chan starts, feigning confidence over the redness in his ears, “are you seeing anyone?”

“please,” you laugh dryly, “you know i’m not.”

chan hums, observing you for a few extra seconds, “something’s going on in your love life.”

“chan!” you gape at him with disbelief, “based on what evidence?”

he leans closer to you, elbows on the table and eyes focused, “come on. i know you better than most people, especially when it comes to this stuff. who is it?”

you frown, hoping you can get him to believe that nothing is happening. predictably, even after years of separation, chan waits patiently. silent, stubborn, supportive.

“fine,” you sigh, spinning your cup a few times to delay your admission, “i was involved–well, not really involved, per se. there was…someone. we had something. at least, i thought we did, and i thought they thought so too. then, they ended things without warning. i can’t say they were in the wrong because being able to end things was a part of our…agreement…but it still hurt. i felt–feel–blindsided and delusional and stupid for getting my hopes up. i don’t think there’s anything to do now except move on, which sucks because it felt special. but hey,” you laugh sordidly, “i’ve been wrong about that before.”

chan smiles, some sadness peeking through, “we both have been wrong about that before.”

you nod, coming up empty on what to say next. chan watches you to ensure you’ve shared everything you wanted to before he speaks again.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i don’t know what they were thinking, and i won’t ask you to dredge up every detail, but i don’t need to know the whole situation to know that they made a mistake. you are so special. loving and being loved by you is the greatest gift i’ve ever known. you deserve someone who recognizes that, and i’m sorry that they weren’t smart enough to.”

you clear your throat, overwhelmed by chan’s words, “thanks, chan.”

“of course,” he smiles, “i’m what you could call an expert on this subject.”

you both laugh again, and chan continues, “all i wanted to do was give you the best. i still want to. i always thought if we saw each other again…” chan pauses to ensure he’s caught your gaze, “i would love to be the person that gives you what you deserve, if you’d let me.”

oh.

“chan…”

“you don’t have to answer right now. besides, i wouldn’t ask for your time if we still lived as far apart as we do now. i just mean that, one way or another, i’d love to be back in your life. i still love you, and i always will, regardless of what that love looks like.”

a smile spreads across your face. chan, as you always remembered, never fails to surround you with warmth. you tell him so as you both say your goodbyes. you promise to call, much to chan’s excitement. he promises to tell you how the interview goes, and you can’t help but hope that he gets the job in the city, this city, your city.

later, while you muscle through the final edits of your first manuscript, jisung stops by to confirm that you’re eating and drinking enough. against your best efforts, you mention chan right away.

“chan’s here?” jisung’s eyes are wide, though you can’t tell with which emotion.

you nod, “yeah, he’s interviewing for a job tomorrow.”

“oh wow, good for him!” jisung pauses his celebration for chan to ask the inevitable, “how did it feel to see him after…everything?”

you sigh, wondering how far down memory lane you were willing to travel, “it felt…good. we were comfortable right away, and, though it was clear time had passed, we were as connected as we had always been. he actually…i think, if he moves here, he wants to give us another shot.”

“whoa,” jisung looks arguably more shocked than you were when chan made his abrupt confession.

“yeah. i was surprised too. but i don’t know…i felt surprised in a good way, i think. obviously the whole hyunjin situation is fresh, and i’d be lying if i said i was over it. yet running into chan randomly for him to admit that he still wants to be with me, in some capacity at least, maybe that’s happening for a reason. i’ve felt so cynical about love for a long time. what if chan is the happy ending i’ve been craving all along?”

“i’m glad that seeing him went so well,” jisung chuckles, “i know when you two were with each other, you constantly talked about building a future together. you were happy with chan, there’s no denying that. but…”

“i know, i know,” you cut him off, so he doesn’t have to be the one to bring up the uncomfortable reminder, “he was my first love, and my first heartbreak. i can’t forget that he ended things because i distanced myself from him. i was scared, jisung. even though, or perhaps because, we were so young, our relationship was so idyllic. everything seemed to line up perfectly, and yet there was a pit in my stomach because i always worried that something was missing. could it have been that i found what was missing by growing up?”

“you sound like me,” he teases, a bit impressed, “it genuinely could be that you needed time apart to figure yourselves out before you could make it work. you and chan were great together; anyone could see that. if giving that relationship another, more mature try, is the right move, then you have my full support. but y/n…is chan the one you want to be with?”

“i…” you glance over at the poem hanging on your fridge, briefly feeling the way hyunjin’s words had moved you that night not so far in the past, “i’ve been feeling cynical about love and relationships for a long time. seeing chan made me feel hopeful again.”

“was it really chan that changed your mind?”

you roll your eyes and scoff, “whatever hyunjin made me feel doesn’t count. we weren’t even together anyway.”

jisung sighs, “just because you weren’t technically together doesn’t mean you didn’t build a relationship. the way you felt about hyunjin is what changed your mind on love, if you ask me. and, as we’ve already established, i have earned my wisdom when it comes to love.”

you both laugh, relieving the tension. jisung definitely knew what he was talking about, and you know that he wouldn’t say anything regarding your love life if it weren’t important.

“what do you think i should do?”

a sweet and sympathetic smile appears on jisung’s face, “you know i can’t answer that. what i can say is i hope you chase after what’s right for you now. the younger version of you deserved real love, and who you are now deserves real love. that love might look different, whether it comes from the same person or not. it’s probably the romantic in me, but i think you’ll know if you’ve found that love. i hope you trust your gut, and i’ll support you no matter who or what you choose.”

with that, you thank him and remind him that you have a novel to finish, which means you don’t quite have the time for an existential crisis about love tonight. he laughs, wishes you luck, and heads home. you sit at the table for a while, quietly thinking to yourself about the events of the day. you never thought you’d be in a position like this, but you guess that signing up to live out one fanfic trope makes you more susceptible to living out other ones too. with that in mind, after finishing your edits, you decide to add one last line to the ending.

after all that had happened to us, and in spite of whatever would come, the center of everything was this: i have longed for you since the moment i met you; therefore, i will always love you.

before you can second guess yourself, you send it to your publisher and close your laptop. unable to resist the tears, you sit at your kitchen table, full of relief and sadness, and cry. regardless of what tomorrow brings, one love story has ended. in chasing toward your tomorrow, you have to live with saying goodbye.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“hyunjin!” jeongin looks up from his desk, face composed but eyes wide with surprise, “i wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

hyunjin approximates a smile to the best of their abilities, “i figured i should hand the final piece in directly.”

“as always, i appreciate the personal touch,” jeongin grins and points to the large canvas leaning against hyunjin’s body, “is that it?”

“yes,” they gaze down, peeking at the image, “i finally finished it.”

quiet, hyunjin places the painting on a work table in front of jeongin. jeongin examines it, thoroughly dedicated to appreciating every brushstroke. the compliments on his artistic choices are personal and detailed, but hyunjin barely registers them. they’re sure they will be able to hear the precise, sincere feedback a different night, maybe when the exhibition opens, so hyunjin only feels a twinge of regret at being spaced out yet again. jeongin must have been able to tell that hyunjin was only half there because he quickly transitions his praise into a goodbye. hyunjin gratefully accepts the exit plan.

“oh, and hyunjin?”

hyunjin pauses near the door, facing their friend with their full attention, “yeah?”

“take care of yourself, yeah?”

“of course.”

hyunjin makes it only a block before the tears start streaming. hearing those words from jeongin, the type of friend to refrain from casual sentimentality, breaks hyunjin’s thinly veiled detachment. the facade they barely maintained in the past few weeks lacked resilience. how could there be any solidity to him when hyunjin spent the recent past floating away?

they walk aimlessly for some amount of time, landing at a park bench. the afternoon sun would usually deter them from this spot, but the overcast sky makes the place feel less visible, less connected to the rest of the outside world. hyunjin hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes at a time since the conversation at the restaurant, so they melt into the bench with hopes that vitamin d will cure them of their self-inflicted heartbreak. cure is perhaps too strong of a hope. hyunjin doesn’t believe anything could undo the hurt he caused, but he wants to believe that the suffering won’t last forever.

in case the sunshine can’t clear all their problems away, hyunjin calls minho. they feel selfish and stupid and hate that they could be interrupting someone else’s good day, but he can’t think of anything useful on his own. all the time in the studio, all the distancing from friends, all the nights spent writing in their journals couldn’t remove the pit in their stomach, the rock in their chest. the guilt weighed so much more because your name was written all over it.

“hyunjin,” minho answers on the third ring, “how can i help you?”

they laugh through the tears, sniffling, “your customer service knows no bounds.”

“i expect a tip.”

hyunjin laughs again, grateful for a fleeting lightness in his chest before confronting everything that’s crashing down, “minho, i messed up.”

minho sighs on the other side of the line, “do you want to talk about it?”

thankfully, minho doesn’t rush hyunjin to respond. hyunjin, overcome with just about every emotion they’ve felt in the past few weeks, feels another wave of tears emerge in the presence of his friend’s patience and understanding. they’re not sure what they’re looking for, but being able to admit their mistakes feels like the right place to start.

“i really cared about y/n. like…deeply. more than i’ve cared about someone in a long time, if ever. i miss them, and it’s my fault. it’s like a sick joke. this whole arrangement was built around us finding inspiration for our work, and now, because i got scared, i learned what yearning actually feels like. i feel it in my body, like the urge to reach out for something–someone–that isn’t there anymore. it’s so cliché, and i used to make fun of people for saying it when they went through a breakup, but i look for y/n in everything i see. they’re gone. the feeling of them beside me is like a phantom limb, but i am responsible for the amputation. i feel like i can’t even be sad about it because i’m the one who left. i can’t even say i don’t know what went wrong because i ruined it. i regret it. minho, i don’t know what to do.”

“hyunjin,” minho sighs, “you need to be kinder to yourself. yes, you made a mistake, but you don’t deserve to tear yourself apart for it.”

“don’t i though? what i have–had–with y/n was so special. they deserve so much more than what i gave them, what i was giving them and then immaturely ripped away. they were so kind to me, so honest. and i threw that all away without so much as an explanation.”

“okay,” minho lets out a breath with a hint of frustration, “i really think you’re taking this self-flagellation thing way too far, but i won’t waste time arguing with you if you don’t want to believe me–”

“where did you learn ‘self-flagellation’?”

“hyunjin, seriously?” minho deadpans.

hyunjin can perfectly picture the annoyed look on minho’s face, and he laughs, “sorry, you’re right. we were being serious and vulnerable. i shouldn’t have interrupted with a joke.”

“exactly, you shouldn’t have interrupted the vulnerability.”

“are you talking about you or y/n now?”

“a little bit of both, but mostly y/n. you got scared because you two were so open with each other. you felt seen in a way you hadn’t before. that’s rare. all of us would be or have been intimidated by something like that.”

“not everyone runs away though,” hyunjin frowns, kicking a rock by their foot, “i did the thing you’re not supposed to do when you find someone as…perfect as y/n.”

“do you want them back?”

hyunjin bites his lip, scared even now to be honest about their desire, “it’s not like they would give me a second chance. they’re smarter than that.”

“that’s not the question i asked,” minho replies, kind yet firm.

panicking, they reply, “you know, even though it was a fake relationship, we kissed once. it was my idea, sort of as a joke. we did it anyway, ‘for the plot,’” hyunjin chuckles, “there was this clarity, in the seconds after we kissed. i realized then and there that i was far more tied to y/n than i ever expected or could have hoped. i know it sounds dramatic, but it’s like, with them, my heart and soul were…now they’re…life isn’t…i just thought that things would have turned out a completely different way, and maybe i was romanticizing things–i probably was, i always do–but that doesn’t change the fact that…”

hyunjin pauses their rambling to take a deep breath, knowing there are only a few words left to say, “i want to be with y/n.”

for a brief second, the weight of everything falls away into sweet certainty. hyunjin wants to be with you, plain and simple. their stomach twists at the fact that you weren’t together because they ran away, but his heart leaps in hope that maybe things could still change.

“do you feel better now that you’ve said it?”

hyunjin sighs, relief rather than regret, “yeah. i do.”

“good,” minho pauses, and hyunjin imagines he’s cracking his knuckles in preparation for the nitty gritty advice he’s about to drop, “i think it’s important to point out that, just because you were fake dating each other doesn’t mean that you two didn’t have a relationship at all. you shared a connection, and the bond you built together was real, even if you weren’t earnestly trying to be romantic partners.”

oh.

hyunjin stays silent, so minho continues, “like i said, running away from someone, something special, because you’re scared of how much they mean to you is a mistake we all have or will make. don’t keep beating yourself up for it. also, don’t keep being dumb by avoiding y/n. if you feel the way you say you feel, then you owe it to yourself and to them to be honest, even if it’s coming a little late. take a chance. you’re already hurt, and you’ve already hurt them. what else do you have to lose?”

“i can’t believe you called me dumb while giving me the most insightful advice i’ve ever heard.”

minho laughs, “life’s about balance, hyunjin.”

hyunjin rolls their eyes, “i guess you’re right. about both things.”

“mhm. i usually am.”

hyunjin scoffs, “okay, if you’re going to gloat about being wise, i’m going to hang up.”

“good!” minho sighs the way one does after a long day’s work, “it’ll give you time to figure out how you’re going to get your person back.”

“you’re so annoying,” hyunjin huffs, “thank you. i’ll tell you how it goes.”

minho hums in agreement, rushing out a don’t forget to stop being dumb! as hyunjin ends the call. hyunjin sets their phone down next to them on the bench and takes a deep breath. the late afternoon is already melting its way into the evening. as hyunjin stares at the setting sun in the distance, they think about the beloved painting above their desk. out there, somewhere in the same city, there’s a chance you are at your bedroom window, saying goodbye to another day with hyunjin on the outside, a part of the world not welcomed into your home. what they wouldn’t give to change that.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tag list: @velvetmoonlght @tirena1 (<333 tysm)

#sweetkpopmusings #stray kids fluff #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fic #fake dating au #skz hyunjin #non idol au #skz fic #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz au #stray kids au #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #long for you

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mrghostrat · 8 months

Text

i appreciate all the kindness for my uni rejection, and anyone going through the same thing should def read through my replies if they need similar comfort. there’s a lot of “ATAR isn’t everything!” comments tho, which made me realise i haven’t actually talked much about my goals, so i wanted to share a little context.

i’m 30 (on the 17th). i took a gap year after high school and i went to uni at 19. i even dropped out a semester before graduating to pursue the one thing that was making me happy (my first original comic) during a really bad depression (undiagnosed adhd burnout). i got the last units and graduated a year later, a bachelor of game design.

haven’t used my degree once. i went into comics and freelance rather than games. but i also loved that degree and would do it all again, it was absolutely worth it.

i’ve been freelance and self sufficient for 6-7 years, and it’s fun and i’m proud of the things i’ve made, but i’m so tired. i’m specifically tired of having to work 7 different angles to make up one sufficient salary, and even if it ends up being temporary, i’d give anything for a 9-5. have someone else in charge for once.

got to the end of my rope last year and sat down to figure out what i like and what i’m good at. a Life Plan, yknow. i’ve always had an interest in teaching, helping, connecting like that. figured out degrees and became really invested in this new trajectory i pictured my life going on. i was also tired of waiting, because every time i wanted to move back to the city from this tiny town we’re in, somethings come up or delayed it. so zita helped me figure out how we could get the ball rolling and break our lease 3 months early, so we could move back to melbourne and i could start my degree this year. we looked for (and found) an apartment specifically on the side of the city that would be closest to my campus.

i hope that gives a lil context as to why i’m so devastated right now. the last 5 months have been me revving up to start this new chapter at the end of feb and one little email said nah.

the degree i wanted to do was a double degree, secondary education (hons) and a BA of fine arts. i was equally excited for both, because i never got to do a lot of actual art learning in my last degree, and the BA would give me all of that— life drawing, sculpting, painting, wood/metal/jewellery working, digital, fuckin everything. but it was the less important of the pair, when it comes to getting myself a job as an art teacher, because i already have the art experience. it was just a fun bonus, and the education degree was the one i NEEDED.

in nov i had to travel to melbourne to present a portfolio and interview for the BA. they showed me around the studio too, and i fell a little bit in love. i got the acceptance email in december, but i still didn’t have an offer for the education degree. another reason why i’m so discombobulated— i technically have an invitation, but it’s for the less important degree that would just be a money sink. do i go to uni anyway?? or just ignore this invitation and move on?

my state recently made education/teaching degrees free as a way of encouraging more teacher jobs. i learnt about this after i decided i wanted to pursue teaching, so it was just a fun lil bonus that i wouldn’t be adding to my student debt. apparently not, bc i didn’t think about how every teenager and their dog would apply for teaching degrees so they could get straight into uni without any debt. so, even tho i’m a graduate and i’m not relying on school scores, i was one in a million, likely just numbers on a page, and didn’t get in.

there could be other paths. i could start the BA and add the Edu degree later? i could reapply for mid year intake. i could… idk, most of what i could do requires emailing Monash and asking wtf, because i have no idea what’s actually possible and will need someone to lay it out for me.

still feels like i’ve run into a brick wall though. little bit shut down. more sad, not quite angry, but suddenly really spiteful for some reason— like “oh, you don’t want me? okay fuck you then, i won’t ever teach.” so stupid. just a bit fragile rn

#ghost scribbles

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faust-the-enjoyer · 8 months

Note

Omg you write for trans readers too?? 💞

Could you write something with Ghost being really gentle and praising an ftm reader?

He’s my hyperfixation rn and almost no one writes ftm stuff for him

No worries if not! I love your blog!

Tags: ftm!reader, reader is 21+, pre-established relationship, praise, sfw, fluff, chest binding, crying (happy tears I promise).

A/n: 🥺. (Also if anyone has any idea why some of these tags i put at the bottom aren't "working" then please help me out in the comments lmao)

You’re standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself, you turn to your side, looking at the binder you have on, the one he bought you. He sees you from the bed, laying on his back with his left hand behind his neck. You’ve recently talked about binding, and how you wanted to try it one day soon, so he felt as though he needed to learn more about binders, from the purposes of it, to its dos and don’ts, to the brands. He saw a good brand, and guessed your size, buying you two binders in case one of them doesn’t fit you. He wanted to surprise you, and he did.

You smiled to yourself as you saw your body in the mirror. “How does it feel, love? Does it fit well?”, “Perfect…this one fits much better than the other one, I look…”, you contemplate your reflection for a long moment, then continue, “good, I look good, and I feel good…thank you, Simon.”. He smiles at you cheekily, proud of himself, “You don’t need to thank me love, I’d do anything for you.”.

You slowly make your way to your shared bed, slowly draping yourself over his body, kissing his lips while straddling him as he lazily puts his hand around your waist. “You look good in it sunshine,”, he looks at your face, then at your body on his, taking in your whole appearance, “so handsome.”. You beam at him, cheeks slowly turning red. “So handsome, so fucking lovely, my pretty boy,”, he holds your waist with his hand, gently squeezing the flesh there, “All mine, yeah?”. You nod your head, unable to form any words as tear start to form in your eyes from joy, he loves you, he loves you so very much. “Don’t cry, don’t cry love, come ‘ere…”, he pulls you onto his chest gently, wrapping his loving arms around you as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, smiling.

(Divider by vase-of-lilies)!

Tags:@spicyspicyliving @rocksshard @bungus04 @regics @victoriareadsbooks @domino100 @kitypupstrawbery @sunflower-angelbaby2001 @mothsdrabbles @ftm-fox-prince @neo404 @lover04stuff @smunchable @jpreezyy @prazinos @mslunaakira @chronic-illness-dont-stop @xaintxun @remediesremedy @cmbghost @aspenmusix @love-lilly02 @teaandbatman @rosieringing @nohahahaha @mathi-e @its-celeste @naxxsstuff @sir-micha-of-the-isles @sweetpeaflower01 @lostrosemary @liquifiedmeat @poohkie90 @the-whispers-of-death

#cod x reader #faust speaks #my writing #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod simon riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader

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disasterbuck · 26 days

Text

FanFic Ask Game

So I saw this post (linked above) and decided to answer all the questions instead of just reblogging and waiting for asks. Enjoy getting to know a bit more about me as a writer!

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

I love how fluffy it generally is and how my fics always have a happy ending 🥰

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

I don't think I'm embarrassed about my writing? Maybe sometimes I'll write a kiss that feels a bit cringe?

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

'the heist wip'. Inspired by the episode Ocean's 9-1-1, I wanted to explore what situation could make them ACTUALLY turn to crime. I had a vague idea of a woman's dog being kidnapped by her abusive ex, and Buck gets all obsessed over it and eventually asks the rest of the team to help him break the dog out or something. idk. I don't have a solid enough idea and I feel like it would end up being a long fic which I just can't commit to atm. (If anyone reading this is inspired by this idea, feel free to write it!! But please tag me if you do! I would love to read it!)

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

... I don't think so?

Yeah I've just had a skim through and can't find anything that I would never share if I managed to finish it.

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

Ooohhh, I love getting comments on ALL my fics but I guess if I had to choose I'd probably go with Friends Don't (8.5k) because it has a special place in my heart.

✏️ Do you write every day?

Not strictly, but most days yes.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

"Back to my point," Chimney said once Hen's laughter died down. "You two are codependent. I bet you couldn't even go a day without having to touch each other."

Buck's face flushed a darker shade of red.

"Yes we could," Eddie argued, suddenly stubborn and confrontational. "We could go a week."

"You wanna bet, Diaz?" Chimney asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

After a quick glance to communicate with Buck, Eddie nodded and said, "You're on. What are the terms?"

don't say his name wip

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

I wrote 4 drabbles exactly 100 words each!! It took quite a bit of editing and revising but I'm really happy with how they turned out! You can read them here if you're interested: buddie month | four drabbles

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

fhdskjfhs I HOPE NOT 😅

🌙 What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

I don't really have a preferred time of day?

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

Yes. And no. lol

📊 Current number of WIPs

............................ 104 🙈

👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic?

Depends ENTIRELY on the person. But generally yes. This does not equal letting them read my fics though lol.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Hm, good question. Maybe Athena?

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing?

Uhhh I don't know. I feel like I'm constantly learning about writing and just generally trying to improve in all areas.

📚 Do you read your own fic?

YES ALL THE TIME. I looooove reading over my fics. Makes me so happy!!

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

Writing kisses. Or endings. Both. Every time Buddie are about to kiss I tend to abandon the fic for a while lmaoooo and then whenever I have to wrap it up it takes me 3-5 business days.

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

Up for anything. All I've got for it so far is this:

Buck: No, I mean it. I'm up for anything. If you can come up with something I won't do you win. But I'm telling you right now I never back down from a dare.

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

fhjskfh I hate research. My deepest dive is whatever happens in the show. I'll rewatch or maybe read wikis to make sure I get show details accurate but anything else? I'm making that shit up bestie 😅

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

🙈 sweet, emotional, aaaaaand heartwarming? idk

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

I don't have headcanons about my own work! Everything is canon! They're my works! My reality! YOU can have headcanons about my works lol.

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

Of my own or someone elses?

Of my own fics, I love you (4k) is my fave.

Someone else's, the first that comes to mind is The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) (43k) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels uggghhh it is chef's kiss!! Fake dating my beloved! 💕

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

Lazy Mornings (1k) for being so freaking adorable 🥰

⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

I think it's fairly equal? But maybe a bit more time writing, because a lot of the reading I do is of physical books rather than fic.

taglist because there's a sneaky snippet hidden above:

@dluoser @taketheplanspinitsideways @loudenthusiastic @wallywise @mxrcjqckspnchqsc

@therosesaredying @stillfuckingtired @classtrialguru @smolfunpenguin

@awesome-igi @natnuszsstuff @olliesrants @crazyfangirlallert @delirium1995

@brah3280 @meanceclosetohell @anythingeverythingallofthetime @sunflower-eddiediaz

@darkrose6578 @veronae-buddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @loveyouanyway @inell

@spicyrottingbrains @gnoeltop @idealuk @donationwayne @lemotmo

@smilingbuckley @realpersonwithrealfeelings @superlock-in-the-tardis @mjthe14thdoctor @strxwbereee

@idontknowwhatimdoing777 @ashleigh2658 @mari-lwyd-fannibal-blog @mineyneedsmoney

@spotsandsocks @unlifeira @pirrusstuff @buddiedaydreamer911

@littlevampireprincessuniverse @misshiss727 @i-put-the-star-in-bastard @hermioneindisguise @dangerpronebuddie

@specialbrownieeater @blue-winged-boy @bucks-daddy-issues @lightningmcqueer8

Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed 💕

p.s. I'm updating my taglist, check out the info on this post

#buddie fic #writer #fic writer #buddie #buck x eddie #evan buckley/eddie diaz #usermoonsharky #ask game #fanfic ask game #disaster snippets #don't say his name wip

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joshym · 1 year

Text

Watch Me

Pairing: Josh x f!reader

Summary: You love getting to support Josh in all of his pursuits, but sometimes your anxiety gets the best of you. And knowing this, he finds the perfect way to use music to offer you comfort in a particularly anxious moment.

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: Josh at Lollapalooza is one of my greatest weaknesses. And him singing this song, at Lollapalooza specifically, is a huge comfort to me. I thought it only fitting to write a one shot in which he offers support to his girlfriend in a moment of anxiety. We all know he would be the most attentive boyfriend to any mental illness, and this story shows how he’d use music (you both love) to do so.

This is my first story to share on here, so I am a little nervous to post. But, I wanted to share just in case this hit home for anyone who struggles with anxiety. I seriously hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, allusions to sex, serious fluffiness.

“Just look at me. Don’t focus on anything else, just watch me. Okay, baby?”

🎶🥀🎶

You had always loved concerts. Live music ignited something in your soul that nothing else came remotely close to achieving. You loved following Josh and the boys around to their shows, seeing them do what they love and watching them succeed. You made it a point to go to as many shows as possible, and Josh loved your support. He fed off of it, always saying he performed at his best just knowing you were in the crowd. He also loved getting to see you right after each show, so full of excitement and adrenaline. You loved seeing him so happy, and you loved that you could be a small part of that joy he exuded.

The boys were gearing up to play the Lollapalooza festival in Chile this week, and you were eager to join and witness what you knew would be one of their best shows. The only issue: there are no seats at festivals, just general admission.

Yes, you loved concerts, always had. But admittedly, you avoided general admission due to your intense anxiety. You’ve struggled with your anxious thoughts for as long as you can remember. It can be quite debilitating at times.

Josh is always so attentive and understanding, constantly making sure you’re okay and not too overwhelmed. He also knows just what to do to calm you down. He knows you so well, and he knows exactly how to reassure you and help you feel safe in any situation.

Josh knew you were nervous. He told you multiple times that you didn’t have to come along this time, but you insisted. You knew he would need you there and you didn’t want to miss this magical moment for him and his brothers.

“I just worry about you, sweetheart. Your soul is too lovely to be plagued with such trouble. Really, it’s okay if you can’t put yourself through it. I’ll know you’re there in spirit, sweet girl.”

“I’m not missing this, babe. I’ll be just fine, I promise. I can’t miss this. I’m so proud of you, and it wouldn’t feel right to not be there just because I get a little overwhelmed.”

“Well, if you insist. Just promise me that if you feel the nerves rising, watch me. Just look at me. Don’t focus on anything else, just watch me. Okay, baby?”

“I do insist, and I will. I promise. And truth be told, I don’t think I’d be able to focus on anything else if I tried. You’re pretty dazzling, especially on the stage.”

“Gee whiz, what did I do to deserve the likes of you, huh? I’m quite lucky to have you, you know.”

🎶🥀🎶

The day has come. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t terrified. There’s a lot of people out there, and soon you’ll be mixed in with the eager crowd. This show wasn’t set up like the others. Usually, you’d be seated on the side of the stage on either Jake or Sam’s side. You were never fond of being backstage, as you loved being able to see them from the audience’s perspective. Each show was never short of breathtaking, and you loved being amongst all the loving and adoring fans in the safety of seated sections.

This time, your only option was a pass that gave you access to the barricade. You’d have the best view of the whole crowd, but the mind-numbing thoughts and fears were becoming a bit too much. You were so much in your head about all the things that could go wrong. There were so many people out there. So. Many. People.

You had helped Josh get ready, helping him situate his mic pack on his red velvet pants. This was by far one of your favorite looks on him and it was a welcome distraction. You’d been so excited to see him wear this outfit on stage, and you’d even dressed yourself as a perfect match to him in your own red velvet cropped vest and mini skirt adorned with jewels and a single white rose on your hip.

After getting his mic pack positioned and attached just right, he turned to you and grabbed you by the waist with a strong and intentional grasp, looking you up and down.

“Gosh, you look magnificent. I won’t be able to keep my eyes off of you.”

He leaned in to kiss you, and you relished in it. It was full of passion and love. You reciprocated, kissing him back with the same fervor. You could’ve stayed in this moment forever. He was so comforting, so reassuring.

The kiss was reluctantly broken by Josh’s warning that it was almost time to hit the stage, and almost time for you to be escorted to your spot in the mix of fans.

“Remember what I said, baby. Just watch me.” He gave you another quick peck on the lips, followed by a wink.

You were taken to your spot, and the nerves were hitting. You felt so confined and restricted. You were counting each second until your beloved graced the stage, eager to lay your eyes on him and feel the instant relief you knew that would bring.

Finally, here they come.

Jake’s guitar roars through the atmosphere, Danny’s drums beat louder than the pounding of your anxious heart, Sammy’s bass reverberating through your being.

And Josh. His voice captivating you. No matter how many times you hear him sing, he never fails to astonish you. You’re always left enchanted.

The familiar chords of The Cold Wind begin, and you feel your body become a bit lighter.

The familiarity and comfort ease the tension, and you keep your eyes locked on Josh. He glances your way every so often, blushing and smiling each time.

The boys were notorious for planning their setlists right before a show, allowing the list come naturally and authentically to them as they prepare to hit the stage.

Because of this, you pretty much never knew what to expect from them, and you absolutely loved that.

The next few songs were electric. This crowd was so full of love for them, and the boys could feel it.

However, your anxiety was beginning to cripple you. You could feel the weight of the crowd, the screaming and yelling becoming louder and louder. You kept your focus on Josh, and it helped. You were nervous, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

Flower Power had just come to its exuberant ending. You were anxiously awaiting the next tune, noticing Josh’s glances had become a bit more frequent. You had a funny feeling that he had something planned, though you had no idea what it could possibly be. You were intrigued, to say the least.

“Watch Me now, Watch Me!”

There it was.

You instantly knew where this was going.

Jake’s guitar began strumming the familiar tune, Sammy’s keys quickly following suit.

“Watch me when you call my name…”

Watch Me. The song Josh sings to you anytime you’re in the midst of your struggles. This song has been your source of comfort for as long as you can remember, something Josh loves about you as it’s one of his favorite songs, too.

“Yes, I’m so glad you came…”

You knew exactly what he was doing. He knew this song would bring you comfort and serenity, and he added it to the setlist just for you.

“Touch me in your own sweet way…”

Your eyes instantly became welled with tears. Tears of pure joy and love.

In this moment, Josh was all you could see, all you could hear. He filled your senses.

Nothing else mattered. He was singing this for you, he was singing this to you. He looked at you continuously to gage your reaction, smiling brightly when he saw the happiness splayed across your face.

“All the time, I love you…”

The crowd reciprocated the song beautifully, clapping to the beat and chiming in on the chorus.

Josh’s stage presence was electrifying.

You couldn’t take your eyes off his, making eye contact with your beloved as he sings so beautifully.

“Say that you’re mine…”

He looks at you again, smiling ear to ear, pointing at you. You’ve suddenly forgotten about any fear you’d had leading up to this moment. It just didn’t seem to matter anymore. You were protected, you were loved, you were happy.

“I’m still falling, but not quite so far…”

The song came to an end in pure Greta Van Fleet fashion: extravagantly.

Josh waved a peace sign to the crowd, making your heart full.

The rest of the set was incredible to say the least. The boys played their hearts out as usual, but you were so ready for it to end so you could see Josh and hold him tighter than ever before.

🎶🥀🎶

You were escorted to their trailers, and you eagerly pushed your way through to him. You grabbed him, and he instantly lifted you up and spun you around with excitement. You kissed him with even more intensity than before, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I take it you liked the set, yeah?”

He’s smirking at you, knowing good and well what your answer is without you needing to say a single word.

“You’re absolutely unreal, Joshua. You’re prodigious, you’re beautiful, you’re—.”

He stops you with a kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Now listen, I’m the rambler in this relationship. Stop while you’re ahead, sweet girl, trust me.”

You both break out in boisterous giggles together, and you watch the way his nose scrunches as he laughs.

“I just love you a lot. Thank you, Josh.”

He pulls you in to a deeper kiss, his hands trailing up and down your body as yours wrap around his neck, playing with his curls that rest in the back.

He moves slightly to lock the door to the trailer.

You break the kiss, looking at him with lustful eyes.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and ‘watch’ us, right?”

🎶🥀🎶

A/N: I wanted to link the performance for anyone who may want to watch it again. It’s just so beautiful. 😭

Masterlist

#josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka fluff #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #greta van fleet fic #jake kiszka #sammy kiszka #danny wagner #josh kiszka fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #jmk #jtk #sfk #drw #watch me

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satashiiwrites · 1 month

Text

wip whenever

Tagged by @rosieposiepuddingnpie for a WIP whenever. Working on this little piece this afternoon and hope to have a chapter yeeted this weekend.

Tagging @monsterrae1 @tkwritesdumbassassins @quietborderline @whimsyswastry @missanniewhimsy @outtoshatter with no pressure and anyone else who wants to play along.

Graphics by me

Title: Separation Anxiety, chapter 2, part of An Endless Knotting series

Fandom: 911

Pairing: Buddie.

Fic summary: Buck returns to work after his heat leave and both of them have some adjusting to do while separated as Eddie prepares to start his new job. However, reunions are meant to be savored, and Eddie has a surprise for Buck after his trying shift.

Tags/warnings: first draft. Egregious use of spanish endearments in possibly incorrect ways, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, excessive knotting, mpreg, porn with plot series.

Eddie does his best to keep busy with chores and errands but he has to constantly tell himself not to follow the not-so-subtle tug of the bond that stretches between him and Buck like a rubber band.

He needs to let Buck work, Eddie tells himself again and again. Not even a trip to help Abuela with her grocery shopping is suitably distracting.

“You keep sighing like that and I’ll have you audition for a telenovela. I saw a flier for auditions. You can play pining lovestruck man numero uno.”

“I’m not single,” Eddie laughs, “and I’m not interested in anyone other than Buck. I just miss him.”

“Your alma gemela. I remember what that was like when I was first bonded to my Edmundo. I missed him so much and he’d just be outside mowing the yard or running to the grocery store.”

“Buck’s a bit further away,” Eddie says and then internally scolds himself for trying to out-miss his mate with his abuela. Abuela still missed her husband, Eddie’s namesake grandfather and it’d been a decade and a half since he’d passed.

“Tcch,” Abuela scolds him, tone playful. “You’re both so young.”

“My knees ache sometimes in the mornings. I’m not that young.”

That gets a chuckle out of Abuela and Eddie counts at as a win. She has him shucking corn on the cob for their dinner and saving the husks so they can be dried to make tamales. Christopher is busy on Abuela’s Nintendo discovering the world of Hyrule and saving a princess.””

“Your Buck is good for you, good for Christopher,” Abuela idly observes as she stirs the red chili sauce she’s making to go with the pork she slow cooked all day, taking a taste. The rice cooker Eddie bought for her as a birthday present with his first paycheck from the army is keeping the rice warm and ready, the large pot on the stove filled with water to cook the corn ready and bubbling next to the sauce. They’re going to have a feast tonight and Eddie wishes Buck was here to try it all.

He’ll have to ask if they can take the leftovers home so Buck can have a taste. His omega seems to like trying spicy food, and Eddie would love it if Buck loves the food he’d grown up with so they can share it. They’ve both loved everything they’d shared so far.

“He asked if I would teach him to cook your favorites,” Abuela says with a sly smile.

“Buck did?”

“Yes. He wants you and Christopher to be happy. I told him I’d teach him the family secrets including my tamale recipe. Something tells me he will be a good student and keep you and Christopher well fed.”

“You’ve never taught mom your recipes,” Eddie says dumbly, proud that Abuela has taken to Buck so well. She’d… tolerated Shannon and been polite to her face but the family had for years called Shanon la gringa in a not-so-flattering way.

Abuela has already bestowed multiple endearments upon Buck including guapo, dulzura and Eddito’s amor which indicated Buck had passed some invisible test that Eddie didn’t understand with The LA branch of his family. Even Pepa had been teasing Buck within five minutes of meeting him and calling him Evanito.Pepa doesn’t call anyone not a blood relative by a nickname.

He’s a bit nervous about introducing Buck to his parents. His parents historically have disliked everyone Eddie has so much as looked at and had waged a not-so-cold war against Shannon from the day they’d announced her pregnancy with Christopher.

“Tcccch! Your mother has no patience and cannot handle any heat. Luckily you have our side of the family to strengthen your stomach!”

“Abuela,” Eddie protests, thinking he should probably defend his mother but it’s sadly true that his mom never has been able to eat anything remotely spicy despite being married to his father for thirty-five years and living in south Texas her entire life.

#Separation anxiety fic #Buddie #buddie fic #first draft #wip whenever #an endless knotting series #Mpreg #alpha beta omega #911 #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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wwereaderinserts · 2 months

Note

I HAVE to send another request in for you because you absolutely KILLED the Gunther one I sent you and can't thank you enough!

Could I request something with Ilja Dragunov? I've had this idea for one where he and the reader have been best friends since they joined NXT- like, attached at the hip, always supporting each other during their matches, the kind of best friends who give each other big huge kisses on the cheek sort of thing- but the reader is so in love with him that the night he gets called up to the main roster and they don't, they basically break down and then finally admit to him them that they've loved him for years and it's just the absolute sweetest/fluffiest smut possible? (Like this man has to be the KING of passionate but tender sex I just KNOW IT.) Thank you so much again! ❤️

You're very welcome, I hope you enjoy this one just as much!!❤️

Title: Making Up For Lost Time Pairing: Ilja Dragunov x AFAB!Reader Word Count: 2,572 Warnings: Smut, maybe a few swears

Your heart swells with pride as you watch Ilja soak in the cheers and applause of your peers, a mile-wide smile on your face when he turns to you to cup your face with both hands and plant a massive kiss on your cheek for everyone present as well as those watching from home to see before he’s pumping the air with his fist and making his way down to Shawn to shake his hand.

Are you happy for your best friend being called up to the main roster tonight? Of course you are, it goes without saying. He’s worked his ass off for this moment and you couldn’t be more proud of him. You’ve always supported him in everything he does, and the feeling is more than mutual, but as the night goes on and more and more superstars besides you are getting called up, a knot of anxiety twists in your stomach.

It’s just that you’ve always envisioned sharing this moment with Ilja, getting called up from NXT to the main roster on the same night as him. And admittedly, it does sting, you staying exactly where you are while he’s going up to Raw, and when you both get a moment alone together back at his hotel room once the dust settles after everything, it doesn’t take him long to see right through you.

“...Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you all night,” Ilja stops himself mid-sentence, his faltering smile being replaced with a look of concern, “What’s wrong? I can tell something isn’t right.”

You’re about to give him a dismissive shake of the head in response at first, but you know it’s no use, nor will he be willing to accept that. The knot of anxiety that had been twisting in your stomach earlier in the night has returned with a vengeance, and you opt to tug at your jacket in a feeble attempt to steady your trembling hands while you take a deep breath.

“I’m fine, really. It’s…” you trail off, finding the right words, “I know how selfish this might sound, because this is your moment. But I guess I was hoping I’d be called up tonight, too. With you. And when I didn’t hear my name being called out, it felt so dejecting.”

The words spill from you like a floodgate has opened, but you’re still far from done yet. The frustration begins to gnaw at you, your chest tightening while unshed tears prick at your eyes, threatening to fall if so much as one more drop wells up in them.

“I’m not taking anything away from anyone else, because I know how hard everyone has worked, but when will it be my turn?” you choke out, finally looking him in the eyes, “And what’s getting to me the most is the thought of something changing between us now we probably won’t see each other as much. I honestly don’t know if I could take that. I don’t want us to drift at all.”

“(Y/N)...you know I won’t let that happen.”

Ilja frowns, taking a step closer to you. Seeing you so upset and frustrated about this tugs at his heartstrings, and while he knows he can’t completely fix the situation, he’ll walk through brick walls just to see you crack a smile again at the very least.

Shaking your head, you finally allow your tears to fall, the irritation getting the better of you as you break down in front of him. You don’t mean to, but you snap at him, and it’s as though your mouth is working too quickly for your brain to even comprehend.

“But what if it happens anyway, whether we want it to or not? I don’t think I could take that, because I love you, Ilja! I have for years, and I can’t pretend that I don’t for much longer. It’s killing me.”

The confession angrily spills from your lips before you can even stop yourself, and once you realise exactly what you’ve blurted out to Ilja, you stare at him with wide eyes while your heart hammers in your chest.

Silence hangs between you both like a fragile thread, leaving far too much room for doubts to creep in, and you fear you might have just ruined everything between you both. Ilja looks dumbfounded while he processes the new information, almost as though he can’t believe his ears. As if he can’t believe that you truly feel the same way as he does.

“...You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Ilja’s gaze softens as reality eventually hits him like a freight train, “I’ve been hoping you’d say that.”

Ilja reaches out and tenderly caresses your face, his eyes boring into yours while your brain is playing catch up. You’ve been so afraid of taking the gamble for all these years out of fear of rejection and spoiling what you both have, yet here you are, both going all in with the highest payout either of you could have hoped for.

You sniffle, still trembling from the onslaught of emotions you’ve gone through while you’re looking right back at him as you lean into his touch, relief washing over you when he doesn’t reject you. Then, after much contemplation, he leans down in a bold move and captures your lips with his own. The kiss is initially soft, a delicate exploration of new territory, but it quickly deepens when the passion between you ignites as you melt into each other.

“What have we been doing?” you ask him, breathless and smiling when you momentarily break the kiss, “All this time we’ve wasted-”

“Then why don’t we make up for it?”

Ilja rests his forehead against yours, his breathing staggered while he awaits your reaction. Your heart flutters in your chest at that, and rather than giving him a verbal response, your lips meet his again for another kiss with as equal fervour as the first one. Midway through the kiss, Ilja breaks away from you, but he leaves little room for any questions or confusion when he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bed instead, earning a soft gasp from you.

He approaches the bed with you in his arms, and he sets you down, giving you a moments’ breather before he joins you on the bed, hovering over you. Ilja leans forward and plants a soft kiss to your lips, one hand drifting to cup your cheek while the other ghosts along your side, slipping under your shirt to trace the curve of your waist. Shivers dance along your spine while his fingertips graze your skin, and you respond in kind by wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him in closer, deepening the kiss between you both.

“I love you, (Y/N).”

The words come easier to Ilja now, his voice breathy and raw with emotion while he gazes into your eyes with the utmost sincerity. He notices the way your breath catches at that, the way he sees the sincerity in your own eyes as you look right back at him, the way your smile grows.

“I love you, too, Ilja,” you say it back to him, just as easily, “I want you to make love to me.”

“I wouldn’t do this any other way.”

Ilja says before he presses his lips to yours again, mutual love and devotion now bleeding into the kiss. His hand moves to the hem of your shirt, and he gently lifts it up, starting his quest of beginning to reveal every inch of you to him. You sit up to aid him, allowing him to tug the garment over your head to leave you half naked before you lay back down, your back flat against the sheets once more. You gasp softly when he begins to leave a trail of kisses down your neck, to your collarbones, down your chest, until he reaches the waistband of your pants.

You shift underneath Ilja as he kisses his way down your body, your legs subconsciously parting for him to make way for himself to rest between them. His hands roam along your body, gradually drifting down to your pants, and you angle your hips up without him even having to ask or tell you to do so. Ilja chuckles at this, unzipping your pants before he tugs them down your thighs, then down your legs completely before he discards them, leaving you laying on the bed in nothing but your panties.

“You are breathtaking,” he smiles at you, his eyes full of affection, “Absolutely beautiful.”

You blush at the compliment, resisting the urge to bury your face in the covers to hide how much you’re beaming from ear to ear. But when Ilja tears himself away from marvelling at the sight of you before him, he seemingly realises how overdressed he actually is, and him beginning to undress himself is what prevents you from averting your eyes.

Ilja has your full, undivided attention when he begins with his jacket, shrugging it off with ease and unceremoniously letting it drop to the floor before he’s loosening his tie and tossing it across the room. Then, almost as though he’s wanting you to savour the moment, he slowly starts to unbutton his shirt, exposing his bare torso to you bit by bit while you lay back and enjoy the show.

Your eyes rake over him as he undresses, your mind running rampant as you imagine every possible avenue tonight could go down. When he throws his shirt to one side and kicks his shoes off before he begins unzipping his pants, you feel your pussy throb in a mix of sheer need and anticipation rolled into one when it hits you yet again that this is really happening.

“And to think, you didn’t even give me the chance to tell you how overdressed you were.”

You muse, earning a chuckle from Ilja. His eyes remain glued to yours, but when his pants slip down his thighs, then his legs entirely, your gaze is somewhere else. You whet your lips when you catch sight of the outline of his hardening cock in his boxers, and Ilja smirks triumphantly when he takes note of you staring.

“We’re making up for lost time, are we not?”

He quips, stepping out of the pants pooling at his ankles in favour of rejoining you on the bed instead in his rightful position between your legs. There, his hand drifts home, slipping beneath your panties, finding you slick and wet already.

He gingerly rubs your clit to drag a soft groan out of you, increasing the pressure as he revels in every sweet sound that proceeds to fall from your lips as if they’re literal music to his ears. His fingers glide through your folds, gathering up your slick with ease before he slips two fingers inside you and curls them oh so deliciously, and you already subtly buck your hips, needing more from him.

“Ilja, I want more,” you groan softly, pleading with him, “I need more.”

And he certainly isn’t prepared to deprive you of that. Ilja slides his fingers out of you and out of your panties, now honing in on the waistband of the remaining offending garment before he slowly tugs them down to bare every last inch of you to him.

He feels his cock twitch, seeing you spread your legs for him once you kick your panties off to the side, and he can’t hold back for much longer, the overwhelming urge to please you to your heart’s content now consuming him. Ilja drags his boxers down, letting his cock spring free before he positions himself between your legs, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready for me?” Ilja asks, his cock in his hand as he brushes it against your folds, “I’m definitely ready for you.”

“I’m more than ready.”

Your eyes are filled with desire, breath hitching as you give him an affirming nod. A soft whimper escapes your lips as he slowly pushes himself inside you, feeling your tight walls enveloping him. His pace is slow at first, each thrust of his deliberate, savouring the feeling of your bodies coming together as one.

Your moans fill the room, quickly muffled by his Ilja’s lips against yours as he sets out to swallow each one. You arch into his touch, and he grips your thighs as he deepens the kiss, clinging to you as the soft slap of skin against skin gradually intensifies.

“Is this good for you?” Ilja asks, his breathing now slightly laboured, “I want to make you feel as incredible as you make me feel-”

“It’s more than good for me, god…please, don’t stop!”

He grunts and groans at that, bucking his hips slightly harder, determined to get you to where you want to be. You let out a moan when he grazes the right spot inside you, and it only grows louder when he catches it over and over again with impeccable precision.

Your arms snake around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer, and he seizes the opportunity to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while a hand releases its grip on your thigh to slip between you both, rubbing slow circles over your clit.

“If you keep doing that, I might explode-”

You precaution him, despite that being the precise desired end goal you both have in mind. Knowing you’re right on the precipice, each drive of Ilja’s hips becomes more purposeful, and your nails sink into his shoulders as the need for your release grows and grows.

“Then let go for me, love,” Ilja tells you, peppering your neck with kisses, “Let me feel you cum around me.”

With that, Ilja feels you tense under him, your walls clamping around his cock as you cum with a whine of his name, clinging onto him like your life depends on it. All you see is hot white as you arch your back in utter bliss, going limp under him shortly after while you soak in the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Seeing you fall apart under him is enough to drive Ilja himself over the edge, his own climax surging through him. He groans your name, burying himself to the hilt before he’s spilling himself inside you. He collapses forward onto you, being mindful of not resting too heavily on you. Your hearts pound in unison as you both lay there, completely spent, your bodies entwined.

Ilja rolls off to the side and allows himself a moment to bask in the afterglow while he also attempts to catch his breath. Your chest heaves, your face flushed as you lay there with a satisfied smile on your face, and it only grows wider when he curls an arm around you and pulls you closer to him, encouraging you to nestle into his side.

“Now, when I tell you that I love you, and that things are never going to change between us,” Ilja hums, carding his fingers through your hair before he presses a tender kiss to your temple, “Do you believe me?”

“Well, they definitely won’t change for the worst, at least,” you giggle softly, splaying a hand across his chest as you trace haphazard patterns there, “But I do, yes. And I love you, too. More than you know.”

#eboni-napalm #ilja dragunov x reader #wwe fic #wwe imagine #wwe oneshot #wwe fanfiction #iljaxreader

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