#that started as a way for ECHO to get the screen time he deserves

[tangents-within-tangents]

The thing about the "Clone Rebellion" show

I've become a lot more critical of The Bad Batch lately and I think I realized that’s because it’s over. 

That means that 1. I can look back on the whole show retrospectively, and 2. any issues or hopes I had no longer have a chance to be addressed or resolved.

I realized I’ve been very caught up in thinking about the missed potential of the show, and a lot of my disappointment/frustration with the direction TBB took (esp in regards to the "reg" clones) is coming from the fact that a Clone Rebellion show does not exist to make up for it. For now this is all we have, and it’s hard for me to just accept TBB for what it is, because I at least have been operating under the assumption that this is all we're going to get, that this fabled spin-off show is just not going to happen. 

Because here’s the thing: We all kinda talk about it as if it's a given, a not if but when, but as far as I can tell the concept came entirely from the fans. Just speculation and wish-fulfillment. I don’t really keep up with news/interviews/behind the scenes stuff, but I’m pretty sure there have never been any mentions from official sources (y'all freaked out about one animation job listing that could be for literally anything). If there's something I’ve missed let me know, but for now at least there have been no announcements or plans or anything.

The only thing really is that the gaps left in TBB feel like intentional setup (we never got an Echo and Rex solo episode like we did with Crosshair and Cody which feels like they are saving it for something else, Echo’s fate was specifically left open-ended by not mentioning him (for better or for worse) in the epilogue, Emerie joins them at the end setting up for a female character to be in the main cast, etc) but that still doesn’t guarantee that we will ever actually get a show. That feels more like leaving the possibility open, not necessarily making plans. Especially since TBB actually puts any potential Clone Rebellion show in a really weird position:

There's a lot of important clone-relevant stuff going on during TBB (like Order 66, Kamino, the stormtrooper bill, Tantiss) but I doubt they would go back and show that again since it would either be repetitive by rehashing TBB’s timeline, or confusing by relying too much on people having watched another show. Yeah most people probably would have, but that still doesn’t work very well narratively if your important beats are just implied and happening offscreen. Like I would kill to see more of Nemec and Fireball but then they would just disappear after being killed off (for pretty much no reason) in another show! Hemlock and Tantiss base were designed specifically to be clone-centered threats, and the underground network were the ones who actually spent time searching for it, but then they weren’t there for the rescue so there would be no resolution. But if we instead pick up at the end of TBB it seems like most clones have already been phased out of the Empire by then anyway. Yes you could still make things work either way and come up with new plots and stuff but it’s still a tight spot to be in and it doesn’t really feel like the writers took that into account.

Whether we do get another show or not, I think it still had a negative impact on TBB though. Like that show already had a cameo problem, but 'setting up potential future show at the expense of the current one' is such an issue in any media (esp Star Wars and Marvel these days). Since we got pieces of both 'important stuff happening to the clones' and 'fun mercenary adventures with the Batch' rather than just committing to one or the other, or equally to both, it just causes issues for both shows. I’ve been working on a full post about the lost potential, but for now I’ll summarize as:

It hurts TBB bc we get these glimpses of a more meaningful story that our main characters, the ones the show decides to dedicate screen time to, choose not to participate in. It’s like that trope/bad writing thing where the story they mention (Budapest, or like the Cullens' backstories) sounds more interesting than the one they are actually showing us. Like it’s okay that the Batch didn’t take the same route as Echo and Rex, but the route they did take should be of equal or greater importance/intrigue, and it just really wasn’t. It was mostly directionless side quests and that made the characters seem selfish and a lot of the plots feel filler-y because there are so many important things going on elsewhere. 

It's just starting to feel unlikely that we'll get TWO post-RotS "clone-centered" shows, so why waste the one we did get avoiding the more important clone-centered storyline? Why not at the least equally divide the time you did have between the Batch and Echo and Rex? Why make an ensemble show if you're not going to try to actually balance all the characters? Why bring back a fan favorite clone just to push him to the sidelines and ignore all his potential? Why focus on the "clones" who aren't affected by/don't care about clone issues?

Believe me, I still want a show focusing on Rex and Echo's efforts to save the clones (I just wish it was the show we got in the first place)! I genuinely hope that we will get this show someday, not just because I love clones and this concept, but because I really see a need for it, there's a lot of gaps and potential to be filled there (which is also why I'm okay waiting bc frankly I don't trust the current state of Star Wars writers to properly handle that potential). But I’m treating it with a more “not until proven otherwise” approach (because we all know what happens when we get our hopes up lolll). So for now this is what we have, and unless that changes, I think we should treat it as such.

A lot of times when I see people mention the idea of a new show it's as a way to fix any issues within TBB. Like ‘this wasn’t resolved that well, maybe in the clone rebellion show…’ ‘Maybe Tech could still come back in the clone rebellion show’ ‘Maybe Crosshair’s character arc could be more complete…’ etc. But again we don’t know for sure if there ever will be another show, and even if there is, TBB should be able to stand on its own. There are some things I think another show could do (like address the plot hole of why the Empire never came back to Pabu, or actually doing something with the CX troopers) but narratively it does not work for major plot arcs or character development like that to be resolved elsewhere (like how a major Mandalorian plot point happened in the middle of TBOBF???). If we do get a Clone Rebellion show I don't think it would make much sense for the Batch to play much of a role in it. TBB ended with a clear send off for those characters, whether that was fully satisfying to you or not, that was the narrative intention. The Batch could show up as cameos, but this wouldn’t be their story anymore, and we know it couldn’t be because they were very intent on retiring and clearly never cared much about the regs or Empire so why would they suddenly change their minds?

A Tech lives plotline would have to be centered on the Batch, that’s his family, but that would just be really out of place in a separate show, especially post-finale (which confirmed that Tech did not come back in canon (at least until Omega joins the rebellion, if you want to be nitpicky ig)). There always could be ways to make it work anyway if you really wanted to, but we saw what retcon battles did to the Sequel Trilogy, and it still wouldn’t really fix any problems in TBB as a show. I’ve said it before, but if the writers were going to bring Tech back then they simply would/should have (they knew season 3 was the final season and they had plenty of time which they spent fighting space gators and whatnot instead).

I'm not saying this to spoil the fun or like dash anyone's hopes or anything. I don't actually know any more than anyone else, I have no impact on what Disney and Lucasfilm do (and clearly they don't really care about making narratively functional choices anyway, get roasted). For all I know this post could age horribly. I just had some thoughts to get off my chest, because I think it’s unproductive to judge TBB based on the idea of an unconfirmed potential other show--that does not (yet?) exist and wouldn't be about them--instead of looking at it for what it is. 

TBB is over. Canon happened, what we have is what we got. We can love it and hate it and critique it and write our au’s and fix-its, but I really think that it’s done. We have to make space for endings, that's an important part of storytelling (which is also why they need to be well-written but whatever). And we also have to make space for other stories to be told. The Batch had their show, they spent the screen time they had on what they did. Those characters got their time and they got a happy ending wrap up, and now it's (hopefully) time to let some other clones take the spotlight.

[moonjxsung]

Kinktober Day 19- Mask Kink

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Han Jisung x reader

•

“I’m home!” Jisung calls from the kitchen, kicking off his sneakers and pulling off his hoodie.

It’s one of the rare nights Jisung gets to spend at your apartment, having a full day tomorrow to get some rest between his busy schedules. And though it’s already well past midnight, the two of you make it a point to stay up as late as possible so you can spend some well deserved time together, in the comfort of each other’s presence while you catch up on the details of your lives.

“Hi baby,” Jisung says with a toothy grin as you enter the kitchen, rushing into his arms as he pulls you into his warm embrace.

“Missed you,” you say, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and wrapping your arms around his broad back. He’s dressed comfortably in a black tank top and sweatpants, already having showered after dance practice so he can spend the whole evening by your side.

“I missed you,” Jisung voices back, tucking strands of hair behind your ears as he looks down at you. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you respond, already having eaten your portion of the takeout food you bought a few hours ago. “Sorry. I was starving and I couldn’t wait,”

Jisung chuckles lightly, shaking his head and pressing a small kiss to your temple. “But you need to eat,” he voices. “Don’t be sorry. I’m gonna get my half and I’ll meet you on the couch.”

You nod at him, separating from his embrace to make your way to the couch, while Jisung retrieves his share of food from the kitchen table.

“What do you want to watch?” You call out to Jisung, and you can hear him shuffling about to transfer Chinese food to his plate.

“Horror?” He queries, mixing his noodles with a pair of chopsticks. “There’s that new one we wanted to watch. With the clown?”

“Oh yeah!” You exclaim, flipping through titles and landing on the movie you’ve agreed on.

“Are you sure you won’t be too scared?” Jisung says with an amused smirk as he finally makes his way back through to the couch with his food in hand.

“Scared?” You echo. “Please. Clowns don’t scare me at all. They’re silly.”

“They don’t?” Jisung questions with wide eyes. “Even I think they’re unsettling.”

“Well sure, they can be a little unsettling. But they’re not scary, per se.”

“Maybe this will change your mind, then,” Jisung says, raising his eyebrows as you finally start up the movie.

*

Thirty minutes in, you maintain your stance on clowns in movies- they’re just not scary. The antagonist makes a big show of killing people and strutting around in a face full of white makeup paired with a red rubber nose, but you simply don’t find any part of it to be fearful- in fact, you’re even laughing at a few parts, while Jisung finishes eating beside you.

“It’s not funny,” Jisung says with a scoff. “That was a children’s birthday party.”

“Yeah,” you respond. “And that kid kept harassing the clown. He got what he deserved.”

“Baby, he’s seven,” Jisung emphasizes, laughing lightly beside you.

“Okay, okay,” you say to him. “I digress. Maybe if it was in person, it’d be a little more scary. But on screen it’s just a little lame.”

Jisung furrows his eyebrows as he turns back to the screen, the clown dismembering some unimportant character while a sinister music track plays in the background. And then he sits up, his features perking up as he stands up from his spot on the couch.

“I have an idea,” Jisung says suddenly.

“An idea? What is it?”

“Wait here,” Jisung says, making his way back around the corner to the kitchen and disappearing out of sight.

You can hear him shuffling about the kitchen, unzipping a bag and seemingly retrieving something from it.

“What are you doing?” You say in an amused tone, but you’re met with silence as Jisung continues whatever task he’s fulfilling.

A few seconds go by, and then a full minute, and Jisung has neither answered your question, nor has he reappeared from wherever he left off to.

“Jisung?” You call out, pausing the movie in case maybe you failed to hear his response. But he says nothing, and the shuffling about in the kitchen has audibly stopped.

You huff frustratedly, getting up from where you’re sitting to make your way into the kitchen, fully intending to scold Jisung for disappearing on you in the middle of movie night.

And as you turn the corner, you stop in your tracks, confused by the unsettling sight in the doorway to the hall.

It’s still Jisung, in his black muscle tank top and his sweatpants, standing silently with his gaze on yours. But plastered on his face, a white plastic mask, one resembling a clown’s, complete with red lips and a red nose, green tufts of hair and a big, toothy grin.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a soft chuckle emitting from your lips. Jisung says nothing, cocking his head to one side as he keeps his intense gaze locked on yours.

“Where the fuck did you even get that?” You query as you finally approach him, reaching a hand up to graze the hard plastic along your fingertips. “Did you just have this prepared for movie night?”

Jisung chuckles lightly, unable to keep serious for too long as he finally responds.

“It’s from the video set,” he finally says. “I asked if I could bring it home as a little memento.”

“This is your memento?” You retort. “This creepy mask?”

“I thought you weren’t scared of clowns,” Jisung remarks.

“Yeah, and I’m not scared of this one either. Especially not when I can see your biceps with that tank top, and your dick print through those pants. You look like some erotic actor for hire.”

Jisung laughs loudly from behind the mask, reaching up to steady two hands on the top of the doorway and leaning against it casually.

“Wait a minute,” Jisung remarks, as you scan his figure. “Is this… turning you on?”

“What?” You say, embarrassed you’ve let yourself make it so obvious. “Absolutely fucking not. It’s a literal Halloween costume.”

“It’s totally turning you on,” Jisung says, a melodic giggle escaping his lips. “You totally have a mask kink.”

“A what?” You say between bashful laughter. “Jisung, that’s something you probably have, not me. I’m not into weird shit.”

“I only have one if I know you have one,” Jisung explains. “If you get horny at the sight of some spooky mask on your boyfriend's sexy figure, then we might as well hit up the costume store and stock up.”

You don’t reply immediately, your mind wandering to the endless options a costume store would provide you with- ghosts, aliens, non-human entities with unsettling expressions. A whole list of masks Jisung could model for you.

Jisung raises his eyebrows when your gaze snaps back to him, understanding by your contemplation alone that he’s correct in his theory.

“Why don’t you let me fuck you while I wear this one,” Jisung proposes. “And if you like it, we can hit up the costume store.”

You’re reluctant to respond, not wanting him to hold the fact that he’s right against you. But when he coaxes you to come closer to him, you can’t decline, letting him take you in his embrace and run a hand along your cheek lovingly.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Jisung says, and you’re unsure whether he’s referring to the mask, or this newfound kink of yours. But he spins you around, pressing you to the frame of the doorway and pulling your panties down to your thighs.

“Are you already wet for me?” Jisung muses, dipping a finger down against your core and rubbing lightly. And you are, admittedly dripping for him, even more turned on at the sensation of the cold plastic pressing up against you as his face hovers behind yours.

“I knew it,” Jisung remarks, rubbing your clit in light motions. “You have a thing for masks, baby. That’s so fucking sexy.”

You can hear his sweatpants pool at his ankles as he undresses, his erection prodding into your upper thigh as he continues to rub you, small moans escaping your lips as he does. He’s slow and calculated with his movements, almost as though he’s continuing to gauge if you’re still into it. But he doesn’t have to be slow for much longer, taking careful note of the way you arch against the doorway into his touch.

“Will you put it in?” You ask politely, turning your head to catch a glimpse of the mask.

“Say you like the mask,” Jisung orders with a smirk not visible to you.

“What?”

“Say you’re into the mask,” Jisung says again. “Say it turns you on.”

“I don’t-”

“Say it, and I’ll fuck you in it,” Jisung emphasizes. You huff frustratedly, knowing you have no choice but to admit to the embarrassing fact if you want him to help you finish.

“I like it,” you say plainly.

“Like what?”

“The mask.”

“Say it in full.”

“I like the mask,” you echo, his fingers moving a little faster.

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” Jisung commands.

“It’s creepy,” you say to him. “Kinda feels like it’s someone else under there.”

“It’s definitely me,” Jisung muses. “I just have more power over you in it. Maybe if you cum for me, I’ll take it off and let you kiss me again. For now you’re gonna take whatever I give you.”

You swallow nervously, nodding as he keeps you pressed against the wall and wraps a hand around the base of his cock, guiding it to rest against your entrance as you hold your breath.

“Hold still for me,” Jisung orders. “I want this to feel good for you.”

And following his words, he slips his cock inside of you, being able to push inside of you with complete ease as you grasp the door frame with one hand. He feels a lot harder than you’re typically used to, evidently turned on at this, too. And once he’s buried to the hilt inside of you, the hand he’s been using to steady you wraps lightly around your throat, pulling you against the plastic of his mask as he begins to move.

Jisung’s heavy breathing is amplified behind the mask, his ragged breaths echoing off the plastic and into your ears. His grunts and moans sound inhuman like this, everything about him feeling like a complete mystery as he fucks you senselessly.

And you feel completely powerless in his hold, only being able to gasp in response as he works harsh thrusts in and out of you, your pussy contracting desperately around his girth as he fucks you.

“Are you scared?” Jisung asks, picking up his pace a little.

And you’re not scared of the mask, per se, but it is a little scary how much you’re turned on at this. The mystery of your boyfriend’s facial expressions behind the mask, the sounds completely unfamiliar to you, unable to kiss him or touch him properly and at his mercy while he fucks you. The shift in power has you seeing stars, Jisung wielding much more power over you when he’s in the mask, and well aware of it judging by the way he pulsates inside of you.

“It’s scary how fucking hot you look in that thing,” you confess breathlessly. “I wish you’d brought it home earlier.”

“There’s fear in arousal,” Jisung responds plainly, tugging your hair lightly and moving even faster now.

“I want you to let go for me completely, okay? Show me how much you like this thing.”

You nod eagerly in his grasp, feeling the way your stomach contracts at the sensation. His bulge almost protrudes against your stomach at this angle, hitting every sweet spot inside of you as he moves with such purpose, desperate to make you cum hard for him, so he can indulge you in a collection of masks in the future.

“Cum for me,” Jisung commands breathlessly. “Let go for me, baby. I’m not gonna take this off until you finish for me.”

Your cunt clenches down around his cock with such force, your moans coming out much higher pitched now as he grips your throat a little tighter and pulls your hips back against his.

“You love this,” Jisung voices, with you completely unable to respond to his words. “You love feeling unnerved while I use you, huh?”

And you nod eagerly in his touch, letting out a fervent moan as he slows his movements a little, holding each thrust inside of you for several seconds before pulling back and thrusting once more.

“Baby, I’m cumming,” you whimper pathetically, as he holds himself bottomed out inside of you.

And you feel your insides churn as your cunt clenches down around his cock, finally reaching your release and letting yourself squirt around his pulsing girth.

Jisung gasps when he feels it, and then he chuckles lightly, observing the way you make a complete mess of the floor and his cock.

When he pulls out, you’re quick to apologize, pulling your panties back up and scanning the room for towels.

“God, I made such a mess,” you remark disappointedly. “Sorry, let me-”

“Sorry?” Jisung retorts with a chuckle. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. You totally have a mask kink for me, baby.”

As he speaks, he pulls the mask off over his head, discarding it on the kitchen table and meeting your gaze. Strands of his black hair are glued to his forehead in a sheen layer of sweat, his lips pulling into a toothy grin as he pulls you closer to him.

“I’m glad I brought that thing home,” Jisung remarks. “I never would’ve known that about you.”

“I wouldn’t have known either,” you say with a chuckle. “I guess we were both pleasantly surprised.”

Jisung pressed a series of chaste kisses to your lips, pulling away to head toward the kitchen counter for paper towels.

“I’ll get this cleaned up,” Jisung says. “In the meanwhile, think about what you want from the costume store tomorrow.”

He rips a sheet off the roll, approaching you once again and kneeling on the floor to clean the mess.

“Aliens?” Jisung asks, wiping the puddle off the floor. “Werewolves? Orcs? Goblins?”

And you smile down at him, endeared at the way he’s so open to embracing all your kinks, regardless of what they may be.

*

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually. 

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body. 

You pretended to be dead. 

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky. 

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly. 

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands. 

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it. 

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.” 

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up. 

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening. 

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest. 

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.  

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort. 

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.” 

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character. 

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it. 

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up. 

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood. 

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?” 

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull. 

Missions were rarely a failure. 

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.” 

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?” 

“None. Just us.” 

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.” 

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway. 

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it. 

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it. 

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation. 

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room. 

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly. 

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off. 

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin. 

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction. 

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.” 

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue. 

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in. 

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight. 

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends. 

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore. 

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him.  “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh. 

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why. 

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden. 

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions. 

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them. 

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too. 

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue. 

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch. 

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined. 

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you. 

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like. 

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse. 

This couldn’t continue. 

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side. 

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.” 

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air. 

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met. 

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires. 

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?” 

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?” 

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up. 

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.” 

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth. 

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas. 

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless. 

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds. 

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up. 

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though. 

On the second week, it got easier. 

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area. 

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over. 

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table. 

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally. 

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails. 

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind. 

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you. 

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces. 

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair. 

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse. 

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up... 

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring. 

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!” 

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp. 

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor. 

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers. 

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated. 

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug. 

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly. 

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air. 

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure. 

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.” 

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly. 

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward. 

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game. 

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching. 

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet. 

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table. 

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?” 

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.” 

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you. 

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss. 

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.” 

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it. 

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking. 

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second. 

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos. 

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat. 

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages. 

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out. 

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.” 

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?” 

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room. 

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out. 

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently. 

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.” 

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation. 

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.” 

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back. 

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat. 

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney. 

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly. 

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful. 

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand. 

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing. 

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.” 

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair. 

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back. 

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine. 

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts. 

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high. 

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river. 

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask. 

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare. 

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it. 

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh. 

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge. 

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already. 

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk. 

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…” 

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be. 

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.” 

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip. 

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able. 

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second. 

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table. 

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion. 

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?” 

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer. 

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix. 

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob. 

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.” 

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality. 

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer. 

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.” 

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own. 

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies. 

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep. 

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.” 

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though. 

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect. 

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt. 

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you. 

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back. 

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw. 

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms. 

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile. 

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.” 

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting. 

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial. 

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action. 

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot. 

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad. 

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you. 

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute. 

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

[rootedinrevisions]

Begin Again

SUMMARY: Based on the song Begin Again by Taylor Swift. Just Tyler being a southern gentleman on a blind date to a girl who had written off love after her last relationship. FLUFF

WARNINGS: Mentions of previous toxic relationships.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

The soft hum of the phone vibrating on the kitchen counter pulled her attention away from the sink. She dried her hands on a dish towel, glancing at the screen. Dani.

She sighed, bracing herself as she answered, "Hey, Dani. What's up?"

"Hey! So, I've got something exciting to tell you!" Dani's voice was filled with that infectious enthusiasm that made it impossible to be completely irritated with her, even when she was being pushy.

"Oh no, what now?" She teased, leaning against the counter.

"Don't sound so skeptical! I've got a guy for you."

"A guy?" Her heart sank a little, the memory of her last relationship flashing in her mind. It had been almost eight months since it ended, and the wounds were still fresh. "Dani, I told you, I'm not–"

"Hear me out!" Dani interrupted, her voice taking on that determined edge. "His name is Tyler Owens. He works with me, and he's seriously one of the most down-to-earth guys I've ever met. He's funny, and kind, and honestly, he's just a great guy. I really think you two would hit it off."

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "I don't know, Dani. I've kind of sworn off dating for a while, remember?"

"I know, I know," Dani replied, her tone softening. "But this isn't like your last relationship. Tyler's different. He's got his life together, and he's not the type to play games. Plus, it's just one date. No pressure."

She could feel the walls she'd built around herself starting to crack. Dani had a way of making things sound so simple, so easy. But it wasn't easy. Not after what she'd been through. "I just don't think I'm ready yet."

"I get it, I really do," Dani said, her voice gentle now. "But it's been almost eight months. You deserve to have some fun, to get out there again. Just give it a chance. If it's terrible, you can blame me and never let me set you up again."

There was a long pause as she considered Dani's words. She wanted to say no, to stay in her safe bubble where she didn't have to worry about getting hurt again. But at the same time, she knew she couldn't hide forever. "Fine," she finally said, a sigh escaping her lips. "I'll go. But if he's a weirdo, I'm holding you responsible."

Dani let out a squeal of delight. "Yes! You won't regret it, I promise. I'll text you the details. You're going to have a great time, I just know it."

After hanging up, she stared at her reflection in the window above the sink, a mix of apprehension and resignation swirling in her chest. She'd agreed to the date, but the week ahead was already filling her with doubt.

The days passed slowly, each one bringing with it a new wave of uncertainty. She found herself second-guessing her decision, wondering if she was really ready for this. Her last relationship had left her in pieces, and though she'd been slowly putting herself back together, there were still more bad days than good.

Some days, she'd catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror and see the shadows under her eyes, the lines of worry etched into her forehead. On those days, the idea of going on a date seemed laughable. How could she be ready for something new when she wasn't even sure she was ready for herself?

But then there were the good days. The days when she felt like maybe, just maybe, she could handle this. Dani's words echoed in her mind–she deserved to have some fun, to get out there again. Maybe Dani was right. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

Still, as the date approached, she felt the weight of doubt pressing down on her. She hadn't been in a good place mentally since the breakup, and the thought of letting someone new into her life was terrifying. But she'd promised Dani, and she wasn't one to break a promise.

The bathroom was filled with the glow of warm light, reflecting off the mirror as she stood in front of it, her makeup half-finished. She stared at her reflection, taking a deep breath to steady the fluttering in her chest. Her heart wasn't racing from excitement, but from the familiar grip of anxiety that always seemed to creep in when she thought about the past.

Her eyes drifted to the pair of high heels resting on the floor beside her. They were sleek, and elegant, and gave her that extra few inches of confidence she knew she'd need tonight. She loved how they made her feel–taller, more poised. But then, as she reached down to pick them up, a memory surfaced, uninvited.

"Why do you always wear those? You know I don't like it when you're taller than me." His voice echoed in her mind, laced with that dismissive tone she had grown to dread. Back then, she would've put the heels back in the closet and reached for the flats, just to avoid another argument. Just to keep the peace.

But tonight was different. Tonight, she was dressing for herself, not for anyone else. She slipped her feet into the heels, feeling the familiar boost in height and the way they made her legs look longer. A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she straightened up, admiring her reflection once more. This is who I am, she thought, pushing away the remnants of his voice.

With her makeup finished and her hair styled just right, she turned to leave the bathroom. As she reached the front door, she hesitated for a moment before locking it behind her, as if securing herself away from the memories she didn't want to carry with her tonight.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, she pulled her headphones from her purse and placed them in her ears. She scrolled through her playlist until she found the song she always turned to when she needed a boost–a song that made her feel like she could take on the world.

The music filled her ears, and for a moment, she let herself get lost in the melody, the familiar rhythm soothing her nerves. But then, like a shadow creeping into her mind, she remembered his words. "I don't get why you like this song. It's so...repetitive." He'd said it with that same condescending smirk he always had when he didn't approve of something she enjoyed.

Her steps faltered for just a second, the weight of his disapproval tugging at her. But she forced herself to keep walking, pushing the memory away. She turned the volume up, letting the music drown out his voice. This is my night, she reminded herself. Not his.

As she made her way down the street toward the restaurant, she tried to focus on the music, the city lights, and anything that would keep her mind from drifting back to him. But it was hard. He had a way of lingering in the corners of her thoughts, even when she didn't want him there. Even now, as she tried to move forward, she could feel the invisible strings of the past pulling at her, trying to reel her back in.

But she wouldn't let them. Not tonight.

She walked down the bustling street, her heels clicking against the pavement as she approached the restaurant Dani had chosen. The address was saved in her phone, but she barely needed to glance at it–she knew where she was going.

What she didn't know was whether or not she really wanted to be there. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of past disappointments. Her ex had a habit of being late, often leaving her waiting alone, making excuses that always seemed flimsy in retrospect. Worse, there were times when he wouldn't show up at all, leaving her sitting at a table for two that might as well have been a table for one. Those memories weighed heavily on her, feeding her doubts. She wouldn't be surprised if tonight was just more of the same.

But as she turned the corner and the restaurant came into view, she noticed a man standing outside, leaning casually against the wall. He was tall, with a rugged look that was softened by the easy smile on his face. Cowboy boots, dark jeans, and a button-up shirt. He looked exactly like the guy in the picture Dani had sent her.

He's early? The thought caught her off guard, and for a moment, she wasn't sure what to do with it. She had been so prepared for disappointment that the sight of him waiting for her–ahead of time, no less–was almost disorienting.

As she approached, he looked up, meeting her eyes, and that smile widened. He waved, and she felt a flutter in her chest, a mix of nerves and something else she hadn't felt in a long time. Something that felt like hope.

"You must be Dani's friend," he said, his voice warm and inviting as she reached him.

She nodded, managing a small smile. "Yeah, that's me. And you're Tyler, right?"

"That's right," he said with a grin. "Nice to finally meet you."

He held out his hand, and after a brief hesitation, she took it. His grip was firm, reassuring. So different from... She quickly pushed the thought aside, not wanting to tarnish this moment with comparisons to the past.

Tyler opened the door for her, gesturing for her to go in first. "Shall we?"

Inside, the diner was cozy, with checkered tablecloths and soft lighting that gave it a warm, inviting feel. As they followed the hostess to their table, Tyler moved ahead slightly and pulled out her chair. It was such a simple gesture, one that might have gone unnoticed by anyone else, but to her, it meant something more.

Her ex never pulled out her chair. He barely held doors open for her. Little things like that were always too much trouble for him, or so he'd made her feel. But Tyler did it without a second thought as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It wasn't a grand gesture, but it felt like one to her, and she couldn't help but smile as she sat down.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a bit softer than she intended.

Tyler took his seat across from her, brushing it off with a casual wave of his hand. "No problem at all. I'm just glad you made it out tonight."

As they settled in, she realized something–this was different. He was different. The anxiety that had been knotting in her stomach all week began to unravel, just a little, as she started to see Tyler for who he was: someone who was already proving himself to be kind and considerate, something who was a stark contrast to the man she'd been so afraid to find again.

Maybe, just maybe, this wasn't going to be like before.

The soft clatter of plates and low hum of conversation filled the diner as they sat across from each other, menus in hand. She glanced over the options, feeling the weight of the silence between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, just quiet–a moment of stillness before things really began. They ordered their drinks and quickly decided to share an appetizer, sending the waitress off with their choices.

As the waitress walked away, Tyler turned his attention back to her, a relaxed smile playing on his lips. "So, Dani tells me you're an artist?"

She nodded, feeling a bit of warmth rise to her cheeks. "Yeah, I do graphic design. Mostly freelance."

"That's cool," Tyler said, his eyes lighting up with genuine interest. "I've always admired people who can create things like that. I can barely draw a stick figure."

She chuckled softly, the sound surprising her. It had been a while since she felt this at ease with someone new. "It's not as hard as it looks, once you get the hang of it. Plus, it helps pay the bills."

He leaned in slightly, resting his arms on the table. "So, what kind of projects do you usually work on?"

She hesitated for a moment, expecting the usual disinterest she'd grown accustomed to. But there was something about Tyler's expression–open, attentive–that made her want to share more. "I do a lot of logo designs for small businesses. Sometimes I get to work on branding for local events or create custom illustrations. It's always something different, which I like."

Tyler nodded, his smile widening. "Sounds like you get to be creative and make a living out of it. That's the dream, right?"

"Yeah, I guess it is." She smiled back, a genuine one this time, feeling herself relax even more. "I guess it's kind of like you and the YouTube channel right? You're doing something you love, and get to share it with the world."

He nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is."

The conversation flowed easily from there. They talked about the quirks of working freelance, the challenges of finding clients, and the freedom that came with her setting her own schedule. Tyler shared stories from his work as a storm chaser, describing the thrill of the chase and the close calls that kept his adrenaline pumping. She found herself leaning forward, hanging on his every word as he recounted the time he and his team were nearly caught in the path of a twister, only to escape with moments to spare.

"And there we were," Tyler said, his eyes wide with excitement, "huddled in this tiny storm shelter with the wind howling outside, thinking we were done for. But when the storm passed, we came out and saw that it had just missed us by a couple hundred yards. It was the closest call to an EF5 that we've ever had."

She laughed, not just at the story, but at the way he told it, with such animated gestures and an infectious energy that made it impossible not to smile. "That sounds terrifying, but also kind of amazing. I don't know how you do it."

Tyler shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, someone's got to do it. Plus, I get to see some incredible things out there. It's worth the risk."

She found herself smiling again, and it felt good. It felt easy. And that was the most surprising part–how natural it was to talk to him, how quickly the tension she'd been carrying all day seemed to melt away in his presence.

Their drinks arrived, and they clinked glasses, sharing a light-hearted toast to "surviving the week" as Tyler put it. When the appetizer came, they dug in, continuing their conversation without missing a beat.

Tyler kept the conversation going, steering clear of anything too personal or probing. Instead, they exchanged stories about awkward first jobs, favorite movies, and the weird things their friends had done to embarrass them over the years. He was funny, quick with a joke or a witty comment that had her laughing more than she expected to. And when she made a joke–a little self-deprecating comment about her tendency to burn toast–he threw his head back and laughed, a deep, genuine laugh that caught her off guard.

He thinks I'm funny? The thought lingered in her mind, unfamiliar but pleasant. Her ex never really laughed at her jokes, often dismissing them or giving her that condescending smile that made her feel small. But Tyler...Tyler laughed as if he meant it like he actually found her amusing. And that made her feel something she hadn't felt in a long time–validated, seen.

As the evening went on, she realized how much she was enjoying herself. She wasn't overthinking every word, wasn't second-guessing every response. It was just...easy. Comfortable. She hadn't expected that, and the realization both thrilled and scared her. Maybe this could be different. Maybe he really is different.

They were halfway through their meal when she caught herself smiling, genuinely smiling, and it struck her just how rare that had become. Maybe I needed this, she thought, taking another sip of her drink. Maybe this is exactly what I needed.

As the dinner wound down, the waitress approached their table with a polite smile. "Are you ready for the check?"

Tyler nodded, glancing briefly at her before turning back to the waitress. "Yes, please."

"Will that be on one check or two?" the waitress asked, pen poised over her notepad.

Before she could say anything, Tyler answered, "One check will be fine." He reached for his wallet without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She watched him hand over his card, feeling a small flutter of surprise. It wasn't that she expected anything different, but it still felt...odd. He didn't even ask. Her ex always made a point of splitting the bill, an unspoken rule that she'd grown accustomed to over the years. They had never had just one check between them, as if even that small gesture of unity was too much to ask. But Tyler paid for dinner like it was nothing like it was just what he did.

When the waitress returned with the receipt, he signed it and stood up, offering her a hand. She accepted it, feeling the warmth of his palm against hers as he helped her out of the booth.

As they stepped outside, the cool November evening air wrapped around her, causing an involuntary shiver to run down her spine. She wished she had thought to bring a jacket, but in her nervousness, it had slipped her mind.

Without missing a beat, Tyler shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. "Here, take this."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "Are you sure? Won't you be cold?"

He grinned, shaking his head. "I'll be fine. You need it more than I do."

She pulled the coat tighter around herself, feeling the residual warmth from his body heat. It was such a simple gesture, but it meant more to her than she could easily put into words. He gave me his coat, she thought, marveling at the difference. Her ex had never done anything like that, not once. She couldn't even recall a time when he'd offered, let alone insisted.

They started walking towards his car, the conversation flowing easily between them. Tyler pointed out the constellation of Christmas lights twinkling from a nearby shop window, and she found herself smiling, genuinely enjoying the moment.

As they strolled, she almost mentioned her ex, the words on the tip of her tongue. It was such an ingrained habit now, to measure every man she met against that old standard, to compare and contrast and remember all the ways she'd been let down. But before she could speak, Tyler started talking about his family's Christmas traditions, the movies they watched every year without fail. The conversation turned light and nostalgic, and she found herself laughing along with him.

Maybe I don't need to bring him up, she thought. Maybe I don't need to talk about the past at all.

For the first time in eight months, she felt that pull, that desire to leave what was behind her exactly where it belonged–in the past. She looked over at Tyler, his smile easy and warm, and she felt a flicker of something new. Something hopeful.

The night had settled into a comfortable quiet as they left the restaurant, walking side by side. The cold air nipped at her cheeks, and she pulled Tyler's coat tighter around her, savoring the warmth. They approached the corner where she usually turned to walk home, but before she could say anything, Tyler stopped and looked at her.

"It's freezing out here," he said, concern lacing his voice. "Let me drive you home."

She hesitated, instinctively pulling back. "Oh, you don't have to do that. It's not far, really."

He gave her a gentle, reassuring smile. "I know, but I'd feel better if you weren't out here in the cold. Please, let me give you a ride."

His politeness, his genuine care for her comfort–it was all so different. She nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Okay. Thank you."

They walked back to his car, and he opened the passenger door for her, waiting until she was comfortably seated before closing it gently. The car was warm, and she relaxed into the seat as they drove, the conversation continuing in its easy, unforced way.

When they arrived at her apartment, Tyler parked the car and got out, walking around to her side to open the door. He offered his hand to help her out, and she took it, stepping onto the sidewalk with a small smile.

"Thank you," she said softly, glancing up at him. "For the ride. And dinner."

"You're welcome," he replied, his voice warm. "I had a great time tonight."

They walked up the steps to her front door, and she felt a familiar pang of anxiety. This was the moment when things usually soured, where her ex would barely say goodbye before heading back to his car if he even bothered to get out at all. But Tyler stood with her, not rushing, not pushing for anything more than a simple goodnight.

"Well," he said, a touch of hesitation in his voice, "I guess this is goodnight."

She nodded, her heart beating a little faster. "Yeah, I guess so."

He smiled at her, and for a moment, it felt like the world stood still. He wasn't rushing to leave, and he wasn't pressing her for anything. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. "Goodnight," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

"Goodnight," she echoed, her hand lingering on the door handle. She watched him turn and start walking back to his car, her mind racing. He was already so different from what she was used to, so thoughtful, so kind. For the past eight months, she had convinced herself that all love ever did was break, burn, and end. But tonight felt different. Tonight, it felt like something new was beginning.

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87

[kyeomszone]

worst behaviour ○ lee dokyeom

tags. penetrative sex (vaginal). possessive sex. hints of jealousy. dom/sub undertones. name calling (whore). overstimulation.

synopsis. the aftermath of the allure korea teaser

Your brain refuses to function.

The song's beat echoes through the room as you stare dumbly at your phone. And you desperately wait for your brain to reboot so that you can process the clip playing out on your screen.

You knew your boyfriend was preparing something. He was working out more than usual, soft muscles being replaced by hard lines, tanning, making that delicious golden hue of his skin even richer. You had chalked this up to the comeback and tour, building stamina for long hours of performance.

But, in no way had you expected, had comprehended the thought of this.

Because holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.

You’re pretty sure you're hyperventilating at this point, lungs burning, mouth dry, heart thudding away in your chest. And every time you blink, you can see him, the crop top, the scrumptiously defined sliver of skin, the leather hugging his shoulders, the pants accentuating his long long legs.

“Baby!” You hear Seokmin’s voice as he enters, the sound of bags shuffling along with him. “I saw the cafe you wanted to go to yesterday was open and━ oh” He breathes out, recognising the music coming from your phone, a pretty little blush coating his cheeks, nose and ears.

You swallow the lump in your throat at the sight of him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you slowly trace the lines of his body. He’s wearing one of his usual outfits, a simple t-shirt and grey sweatpants and you’re pretty sure he’d work that at a soundcheck at one of his concerts but you know what laid beneath━  lithe muscles, sharp lines and dips, all of with you had traced with your tongue and committed to memory, all of which had been for your eyes only but now, now, the whole world knew and it made this ugly green thing take root in you.

And it’s not like you didn’t know, that you’d had to share Seokmin. That he’s Lee Dokyeom just as much as he is Lee Seokmin━  singer and dancer beloved by the world and you can not put into words just how grateful you are to have him, a large part of him so wholly to yourself but fuck, the jealousy something is too heavy to ignore.

“So,” Seokmin clears his throat, the red hue of his cheeks brighter when he notices the way your pupils have dilated. “What do you think?”

You take quick strides towards him, grabbing him by the collar and taking his lips in yours, the sudden action making him gasp. With his mouth open, you take the chance to slot your tongue in, tangling your tongue with his, sucking on the muscle, licking at the heat of him, making him moan.

You only pull away when the burn in your lungs gets incessant, “I deserved a warning,” you pant out, your hand slipping under his t-shirt and palming at the hard muscles, nails digging in hard enough to leave crescent marks. “I think I had a heart attack.”

Seokmin swallows, biting his lip to hold in a whimper at the jolts of pain caused by your nails. “You like it then?”

You pull him into a kiss again, less fervent than the previous one but no less heated. “Let me show you what I think baby,”

You pull away, taking off his shirt as you start kissing down his chest, pressing soft kisses at the moles littered on his skin, nails scratching down, leaving angry red lines in their wake, all of which make him let out soft breathy moans. Your mouth settles on his peck, tongue swirling at the nipple as you bite around it, tugging at the nub.

Seokmin stutters out your name, voice airy and hoarse as speaks. “Don━ don’t mark please,” His words are chocked out, mixed with moans as you continue your work, littering the rich expanse of his skin with hickeys that will bloom into furious shades of red and purples, “the members after last time━ ”

He interrupted himself with a moan when you palm at his bulge through his sweats, a smirk tugging at your lips knowing very well what Seokmin was referring to. 

“Shouldn’t have acted like a whore then,” You snap at him, looking up at him with an eyebrow ticked. The last time Seokmin had been referring to had been an almost similar incident━  that time it was him uploading pictures in that translucent white shirt, chest almost completely out for everyone to see. And it had tinged your vision with the same shade of green, jealousy eroding away at your usual sense of comfort.

And so, you had done what you do best, leave hickeys on his chest, dark enough to last well over a week.

“Lay down,” You order, your voice sharp and Seokmin immediately nods, swallowing as he takes off his clothes and does what you told him. You lick your lips, taking in the sight of him, naked and flushed, his cock rising by the beat the longer you stare, the head of it a violent shade of red. 

You move, taking off your clothes as well and settling on the bed.

You sit on his lap, legs on each side of his hips as you glide your folds over his thick length, biting back a moan each time his cockhead gets caught your whole or presses into his clit. Your hands are pressed against his stomach, feeling the hard muscles and the rise and fall of it as his breath grows more erratic.

His hands are settled on your thighs, digging into the soft flesh to ground himself as he stares at you, mouth open as moans fall from them, eyes closed, a blissed-out expression on his face.

Finally, you lift yourself up until you are kneeling on the bed, using one of your hands to align his cock with your hole. And slowly, ever so slowly you sink down on him. It takes a bit of effort because despite how much the two of you slept together, the stretch or fill of him was not something your body could ever get used to.

You slowly start to ride him, rolling your hips, moving up and down━  keeping your pace slowly enough to push him towards his orgasm but not so much as to make him cum. 

Your eyes are fixated on his face, the way his eyes clench, his mouth falls open farther, a low broken sound falling from them, the noises he’s making like music to your ears and if you could, you would record the sound to hear over and over again but for now, you commit it to memory.

You pick your pace up slightly, the room filling with a mix of moans and the sound of skin against skin from the sticky mess you’ve caused on Seokmin’s lap. Each roll of your hips causes Seokmin’s grip on your thighs to grow tighter, white-knuckled.

Soon enough, you can feel the way the muscles in his stomach start to cave in, twitching against your palm, the muscles of his thighs tensing, his body arching as he’s pushed almost over the edge. And it takes just a hip roll for him to come in you with a moan of your name, the sound stuttering out as you keep moving, milking him through his orgasm and immediately pushing him to the next.

“L-love━ ” Seokmin’s voice sounds wrecked when he speaks, and when you look at his face, you can stop the flooded waterline, the drops of tears in his eyelashes, waiting for a blink to cascade down. You can feel your breath hitch at the sight, “I … I c━ can’t━  ah”

He trails off into a moan, senses overwhelmed with pleasure. And you know him well enough to know the inflections in his tone, what hides underneath surface and for a second, you slow down your pace, noting the hitch of pain. You wait for him to tell you to stop or snap, clap or tap his fingers but when none of them come your way, you pick your pace back up.

“I know you can do it, baby,” You encourage him, pushing past the burn in your thighs from the continuous movements. You lean down, your lips against his as your tongue wanders his mouth. When you pull away, there’s a string of drool connecting the two of you and you watch the way Seokmin’s eyes remain fixated on that, swallowing when it breaks before it waders back to your face. 

One of your hands wanders from his stomach to his cheeks, brushing against his cheekbone as you say: “be a good boy for me.”

Seokmin swallows and nods, blinking back tears as pleasure overwhelms the pain from overstimulation. You can see that he’s trying so hard to hold back, knowing that there’s nothing but more of this in the future for him if his hips jerk up without you giving permission, the way his face is so completely flushed, shiny with a sheen of sweat and glistening with tears.

You really, really wish there was a camera here with you so that you could take a picture because he looked like a sight.

You can feel your own orgasm approaching just from the ridding alone and it takes a few presses against your cilt or you to clench down around Seokmin, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to bite back a moan. And that seemed to be the last straw to push Seokmin again.

With your walls clenching around him and scratches against his abs, he’s coming again, thick spurts of white filling you up with a broken sob.

You ride him through it again, despite the tears streaming down his face and your thighs screaming at you to stop. Finally, you collapse on top of him, a breathless laugh falling from your lips as you roll off of him before curling into his chest, arms settling around his waist as he pulls you closer.

When your brain finally reboots and you can think like a civilised person, a curse falls from your lips at the realisation that Seokmin had been loud and the rest of the groups’ rooms were right next to yours.

“Seungkwan might actually kill me this time,”

note. istg it took me a whole ten minutes to decipher if that video was real or whether i was hallucinating and now the songs stuck in my head. also, best believe I will be writing another one when pictures come out on nov 4

[taleeater]

Fragile Part 7

Sorry for the wait! It was hard to focus while writing this chapter, so I might be editing it for mistakes here and there. I hope you like it! :] <3

Generation: Bayverse TMNT

Tmnt x Reader Fanfic

Pronouns: Gender Neutral (except ‘dudette’, 'miss', and ‘princess’)

Warnings: injury, broken limbs, violence, drowning, not proof read

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You were laying dazed on the cold metal floor. In too much pain to focus on anything else besides breathing. You heard a commotion, voices muffled through the thick glass. At least inside this tube they couldn’t touch you anymore. Your mind strayed to the turtles. You weren’t able to save them. You weren’t able to do anything. You just hope they can somehow get away safely. That April and Casey can somehow save them.

“I won’t ask again…. Where’s (y/n).” Leo growled. He grit his teeth as he lowered his stance, ready to strike.

Baxter Stockman was quickly typing commands into the program on his computer. Karai stepped in front of him and drew her katana.

“Out of your reach, Turtles.” 

“Aaaaand, there!” Stockman hit one last key on this computer and a red light started to flash on the tank, bringing the turtle’s attention to the crumpled form inside the glass. At the same time a multitude of files and programs started closing on the screen one after another, Stockman’s signature digital self-destruct program. Baxter stepped away from his computer and lifted his arms up triumphantly.

The sound of rattling pipes overhead catches your attention. 

“Ha! You’re too late, Turtles. For years, the Foot Clan has sought out the means to fight you mutants on equal footing. And now, we have our secret weapon! An endless supply of pure mutagen!!!” 

You heard a loud beeping sound, then a click, and the squeak of metal.

A gush of icy water pours down on you from above. The sudden cold shocks you and marginally distracts you from the pain. You pull yourself to the edge of the glass away from the heavy stream of water coming down from above, slowly starting to fill the base. You take a shaky deep breath and bang a fist on the glass. No use. Dizzy and numb, you look outside the tank for someone, something, anything that might help you. That’s when you see them.

And with dawning horror, they see you.

“Guys….?” You press your wet hand up against the glass. They’re here! They’re safe!!!

“(Y/n)....? (Y/N)!!!!” Leo shouts and lunges towards the tank. He tries to rush up to the glass but Rocksteady blocks his path. There’s blood on your cheek, and even a good distance away he can tell you’re in bad shape. 

“OUT OF OUR WAY!” Raph roared at Bebop and Rocksteady, crossing his sai in preparation for a fight.

“Uuuh hey guys? Why is (y/n) in a giant fish bowl…?” Mikey asked, nunchucks at the ready.

“They ain’t comin’ out anytime soon, short stack.” Bebop said with an evil grin. 

“You turtles totally fell for our trap!” Rocksteady chuckled.

Donnie immediately noticed the computer hooked up to the tank’s controls. He tried to subtly sneak past Bebop to get to Stockman but Karai stepped forward and blocked his path.

Karai pointed her sword at Donnie. “The Foot will be unstoppable.”

“And I will FINALLY get the recognition I deserve, for single-handedly creating an entire race of superhumans that will rule over the city!!!” 

“You’re crazy!! You don’t even know what kind of side effects that mutation will have on regular humans!” Donnie activated the electricity at the end of his bo staff, ready to fight Karai to get to Stockman. 

“I do have to thank you turtles for activating their mutant gene. Without your help, none of this would be possible!” Stockman’s laugh echoed through the large room. He waltz over to the canister filling up with the distilled mutagen from your blood. “We originally got (y/n) by a…. foreseeable mistake. But to our surprise, they survived where others had failed. And yet- their results were incomplete. Their animal DNA wasn’t materializing no matter what we did to them. So we came back to New York, where the population could supply us with countless more test subjects.” Baxter said cheerfully, popping the lid off the canister. “But now that we have the results we wanted, we have no need of them! We can preserve (y/n)’s body in a special chemical compound that will put them into a permanent hibernation. No need to worry, their body will be harnessed for science!” Stockman’s laugh was deep and evil, and to everyone’s shock-

He dumped the canister of mutagen over his own head.

Karai lept back out of the trajectory of the splash. Baxter’s laugh increased in volume as he began to morph and change. His head and eyes grew large, his body shrank, little papery wings sprouted from his back, and he mutated into a giant mutant fly. 

Bebop and Rocksteady were stunned by the transformation. “Eeeeewwww… he turned into a bug?” Bebop whined.

“Nasty!” Rocksteady shook his head. Neither of them were paying attention to the turtles so Raph and Donnie covered for Leo and Mikey to make a break for the tank you were in. By now it had filled enough that you were starting to float.

“We’re here babe! We’re gonna get you out!” Mikey reassured you. 

You whimpered helplessly. You were having a hard time keeping your head above water, not really able to swim with a broken dislocated arm and broken ankle. 

“Stay back!” Leo sliced at the glass, and Mikey hit it with his nunchucks as hard as he could, but their attacks barely left a scratch!

“Guys! We have incoming!” Donnie yelled as Stockman had started flying around the room, maniacally laughing as he swooped down and kicked the back of Mikey’s shell, almost knocking him over. 

“Dude, gross!” Mikey protested. Stockman looked to be drooling some kind of acid substance from his mouth.

Bebop and Rocksteady had recovered and started to charge towards them. Leo and Mikey had to jump away from your tank to avoid getting trampled. 

“Donnie, that glass is as hard as steel!!” Leo jumped up and kicked Rocksteady across his cheek, then retreated.

“What’re we gonna do? (Y/n)’s tank is already half full!” Raph shouted. He was using his sai to hold back Bebop’s tusks as he tried to charge them. 

You were doing your best to calm your breathing enough that you could float, but every time your head ducked below water you panicked. Your body was exhausted and protested against your desperate movements, but you needed to survive long enough for the boys to break you out.

“Donnie! See if you can turn off the water!!! I’ve got Karai.” Leo ordered

“Mikey! It’s you and me!” Raph called over, clanging his sai together and shouted a war cry running up to strike Rocksteady. 

“What?! What about the bug brained dude??!! Eep!” Mikey ducked as Stockman flew over his head. He looked down and realized he was kneeling at the feet of Bebop, who had taken the black taser out of his pocket.

“You wanna taste too, little man?” 

When Bebop flicked on the taser, Mikey saw the small stains of fresh blood on the pointed tips that buzzed with electricity. He looked back over to you struggling in the tank and how heavily injured you looked.

He saw red.

Mikey had a rare moment of true anger as he jumped to his feet and knocked the taser out of Bebop’s hand with his nunchucks, and in a flurry of rapid hits he beat back the warthog. He finished him off with a powerful roundhouse kick to the head.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR MESSING WITH MY BAE!” He shouted triumphantly.

Raph looked back to Mikey with wide eyes, proud of his little bro for letting loose. “Woah. Way to go Mikey!” He ducked a hit from Rocksteady and punched him hard under his chin. Knocking him out cold. 

Leo was crossing swords with Karai. She was a skilled fighter. But he was much stronger than her. While he pushed her back with a heavy strike, she slipped on some of the mutagen that had spilled on the floor, allowing Leo to take advantage of the opening and disarmed her. He flicked her sword out of her hand and knocked her back. She glared daggers at him, quickly recovering. But seeing as Bebop and Rocksteady were knocked out, she opted for a tactical retreat.

“This is just the beginning.” She hissed and ran out of the lab door. 

Stockman was buzzing around your tank, still laughing maniacally. 

“You turtlezzzzz cannot defeat the mighty Dr Stockman!! I am invincible!! I am-“

Donnie turned on the taser at the end of his bo staff and vaulted it at the annoying human insect, striking him and electrocuting him, knocking him out of the air to fall on the floor with a gross splat.

“Good thing I always carry a bug zapper.” He deadpanned.

Donnie went back to trying to hack into Stockmans computer. He managed to get past the firewall with his hacking program, but he discovered that all of the interfaces connected to the tank control had been erased. 

There was no way to stop the tank from filling up completely. Donnie would have to write a whole new interface from scratch to control the tank.

There was no time.

You were running out of air, trying desperately to keep your head above water as the tank was almost full to the top. You took in one last deep breath just as the water consumed the last of the space. You held your good hand over your mouth and nose hard, trying to hold in the air, and floated down towards the bottom of the tank. 

No more air.

“(Y/N)!!!” 

“ANGEL CAKES!!!” Donnie and Mikey yelled out in panic.

Your eyes snapped open, hearing their muffled voices outside the tank. You swam over to the glass and met eyes with Raphael. He had picked a spot and began punching at the glass over and over again with his sai in his fists.

The needled jabs just managed to scratch the surface. 

You looked at him sadly through the glass. He was stressed, sweating and desperate to break through. Mikey had grabbed a chair and had chucked it at the glass from another spot but it just bounced off and broke on the floor.

Leo was standing behind Donnie with his hand on his shoulder, but his eyes didn’t leave your face. 

Time was running out. You were choking on the stale air in your lungs. Head getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. You removed your hand from your mouth and pressed it up to the glass, some bubbles of air escaping your mouth. Your eyebrows knit together to concentrate on not breathing in the fluid in the tank. But you were suffocating and in pain. 

It was hard.

You looked back up at Raph, and forced a smile on your face. You felt sad. You didn’t want them to see you like this. They felt so far away. 

Darkness was consuming your vision. The last remaining bubbles of air escaped from your mouth and your eyes slipped closed. 

“NO!!! NO-! (Y/N), STAY WITH US.” Raph pounded his fist hard against the glass. 

“DAMN IT.” Donnie frustratingly slammed his fist down next to the keyboard, his head falling into his hands. None of the lines of command coding he was typing in were working.

Leo left Donnie’s side and strode up to the tank.

“Move.” Leo ordered as he came up behind Raph. He unsheathed his swords and began slicing at the glass again. It was barely making a scratch. But combined with the small dents Raph had been making, he was slowly chipping away at the surface.

“Leo! If you can manage to cut 1.2 centimeters deep, it should weaken the glass enough to shatter with enough force!” Donnie yelled from where he was still furiously typing into the stationed keyboard. His attempts to unlock the system all in vain. 

Leo and Raph worked together to stab and slice at the weakest point in the glass until finally-

*crack*

A small fracture appeared in the glass. 

“There!!” Donnie called out. Raph and Leo switched to charging at the door and ramming it full force with their shoulders. Over and over as the cracks grew wider and wider.

Mikey came over, and with a hand on Leo’s shoulder, the leader stepped aside to let his little brother help. Mikey joined Raph and rammed the glass again with such force the crack split all the way across the glass. One more strike-

The glass shattered on impact.

The gush of water that burst through swept Mikey and Raph off their feet. The floor of the lab flooded, and your body washed up on the floor. Lifeless and unmoving.

“(Y/N)!!!!!!” The boys all yelled. 

Leo reached you first, falling into a kneel at your side. He ripped out the two needles from your back and held you in his arms. Donnie rushed over and slid down into the other spot at your side, his goggles pulled into place as he quickly checked you over.

“They’re not breathing. Put them down flat, now.” Leo obeyed and laid you on your back. Donnie first pressed down on your diaphragm to check for water blocking your lungs, then began compressions. 

The room was dead quiet all except for the sounds of Donnie’s whispered counting as he pressed down on your chest. He paused, opened your mouth, pinched your nose, and breathed into your lungs. 

Mikey was nervously walking around you back and forth, and Raph watched you from a distance, a vacant expression as he watched your face for any sign of movement, pleading with himself for you to be okay. 

After what felt like an eternity, you coughed. Leo quickly rolled you lay on your side. You spit up water, gasping for air. You felt like you were coughing up a lung full of ethanol. 

Mikey cheered and Raph took a deep breath, covering his face with his hands. Donnie fell backwards onto his butt and pulled his goggles off his head, so incredibly relieved you were breathing. Leo rubbed your back comfortingly as you got your breathing back under control.

Once you got a suitable amount of oxygen back in your lungs, you whimpered. Your throat was burning and a pain in your stomach and chest made it hard to breathe.

Leo picked you up again, and held you close to his chest. Your eyes fluttered open and you winced at the bright light from the ceiling.

“Welcome back.” Leo said with a smile on his face.

“Leo…?” Your voice was quiet and scratchy. You looked around at Donnie, Mikey, and Raph that all came into view around you and Leo.

“Guys….?” You felt barely conscious. Head foggy and tired like you were under water.

“We’re right here.” Donnie assured you, reaching down to pick up your good hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

All the fear and emotion of drowning and being captured suddenly crashed down on you all at once. You sniffed and big tears gathered in your eyes.

“I was… so scared… I thought I was going to lose you….!” You hiccuped and sobbed as Leo held your trembling form tightly against his chest.

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I’m here. We got you.” Leo soothed, rubbing his hand down your back. He buried his nose into your damp hair and held you tight.

“You had us worried there for a minute!” Donnie was smiling at you, soft and relieved. Mikey was standing behind him rubbing tears out of his eyes.

“Let’s get you home.” Raph said, kneeling down behind you. 

“Wait. I need to splint their arm and their ankle first. Mikey, can you find me some-“

*crack*

“Will this work?” 

Mikey had already broken off the thin legs of a chair across the room. 

“Yeah that works fine.” He pulled out two rolls of gauze from one of the pockets on his belt, and took the offered sticks from Mikey, who knelt down by your feet. 

“What’re we gonna do about him?” He asked, motioning over to Stockman’s twitching form across the room.

The brothers all sneered at the fly mutant with similar levels of disgust on their faces, finding him rather gross. You smiled.

“Just leave him there, we can worry about him another time.” Leo offered, adjusting you in his grip. You winced terribly when your arm was moved. 

“….Is ...your arm dislocated?” Leo asked you, holding you upright in a sitting position, now thoroughly checking you over. 

Donnie and Mikey were working together to splint your ankle, Mikey holding up your foot while Donnie wrapped the splint to it.

“Let me see that.” Raph placed his hands on your shoulder and you clenched your teeth and whined quietly at the sharp pain.

“Leo, hold them still for a minute.” 

“Just hold onto me tightly, it’ll be over in a second.” Leo hugged you close, wrapping an arm around your good side.

Raph got hold of your tender arm, and with practiced ease, popped your shoulder back into place. You cried out loudly and buried your face in Leo’s shoulder, taking deep breaths. 

Raph tried to rub the soreness out of your poor shoulder. “Good job, princess. Now let Donnie get a look at that break.”

You hesitantly detached yourself from Leo, your shaking red and swollen arm was carefully picked up by Donnie, who set the splint and carefully wrapped the bandages.

“I’ll be able to get a better look at it with the x-ray machine back at home. For now we just have to be really careful not to jostle them too much when carrying them back.”

“I got em.” Raph volunteered. Leo looked to Raph, wordlessly nodding his head for his brother to take you from his arms.

“Careful of their arm….”

“Got it.” 

Without much effort, Raph scooped you up in his big arms. You winced as a sharp stabbing pain radiated through your stomach as you were held close to Raph’s chest.

Something was definitely wrong.

“I’m sorry, princess. It’s just until we get you home.” Raph apologized. Leo led everyone quickly out of the lab. 

Once back out in the hallway you had entered from, you noticed with visible shock the literal sea of bodies that covered the floor. Foot ninja. They fought through all of them, just to get to you.

Everyone exited the lab, careful to stick to the shadows as the sun began to rise. As the turtles made their way for their home, your stomach burned worse and worse with a white hot pain that radiated through your body. The movement of the city passing you by made you become dizzy, and your head felt like it was spinning. You felt nauseous and incredibly tired. 

“Hey Raph….?”

“Yeah princess?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you guys…. You had to save me instead….” You weren’t making any sense. Raph could barely hear you as the wind whipped past his head. You just felt so tired.

“Hey, stay with me, princess. We’re almost there. It’s okay.” Raph didn’t know what the right thing to say was. But your eyes were starting to slide closed.

“Can we…. Can we watch Princess Bride again…. When we get home….?”

Raph smiled at that.

“Yeah. We’ll watch it as many times as you want, short stack.” He didn’t care if his brothers teased him for secretly liking your girly movie. He didn’t care if he had to watch it with you a hundred times. He just wanted you to get better.

“We’re almost there. How you holding up?” 

Silence. 

“(Y/n)…?”

“Mmh?” 

Your eyes were closed.

“Come on, wake up, we’re almost there.”

He was desperate. 

“Mm…hm…” 

You hummed, but your eyelids felt too heavy to lift. You felt yourself sinking into a dark liquid abyss. You could no longer fight the pull.

“(Y/n)….. (y/n)? Hey…! Hey, no no no no no, you gotta stay awake. Come on princess…! (Y/N)!!!”

You felt Raph try to shake you awake, felt his muscles tense as he pushed himself to go faster. 

“We’re almost there, hold on…!”

“Hold on….”

Darkness overtook you.

Part 8

@itsberrydreemurstuff @thecreat0r64 @eli-chris @kurlyfrasier @autisticnutcase @drenix004 @donniesgirlie @cherryp-op @foggyturtleknightangel @blackrockshooter780 @l-n-g-t @peachesdabunny @silverwatergalaxy @willy-the-witch @caeliasaida @veri-varily @xnorthstar3x @leonardo-dabitchy @sh1ga-to3s

If anyone else wants to be tagged for the next update, let me know in the comments! :]

[stay-midnight]

Crimes in the Sheets

Synopsis: After dating for around 5 months, Seungmin thinks his sexual fantasies about you are going a bit too rampant for him to control, but somehow your phone seems more important than him.

Kim Seungmin x Male Reader

• Requested by Anon √

• Word #: 2.9K

• Warnings/Kinks: Dom/Top Kim Seungmin, Sub/Bot Male Reader, Porn Without Plot, Degradation, Praises, Corruption(?) not really, Fisting, Fingering, Breeding, Sexual Fantasies, Petnames, Mutual Masturbation, Teasing, Edging, Overstimulation, Hazy Sex, First Time w/ Seungmin (Not in a virgin-type way), Drooling, Choking, Marking, Hickeys, Unsafe Sex (Wear something to protect the erect), Aftercare, Love Showering, Kissing, Make-out, Tongue in Mouth, Seungmin is jealous of a phone. • A/N: My first fic after 10 months! (Uh- Just I hope the writing is okay cuz I have probably gotten a bit too rusty) Also corruption is not that present(?) I'm sorry anonnie who requested it! It just that I couldn't wrap my head around on how to write it... ;-; But I hope this is enough to satiate all the Seungmin stans that were waiting for a fic! (God knows you all deserve more fics...!)

Tippy-taps were the only sounds really audible in the mute atmosphere, Seungmin eyed you while pretending to scroll on his phone while you were too busy to notice as you were fiddling with your own device.

Seungmin sighs once, his voice echoing around the room before his eyes dragged over to you to see your reaction. Seungmin wanted to pout when he saw that you didn't even turn your head.

You were still focused on your phone, getting absorbed into whatever social media you were scrolling through. Seungmin was getting a bit annoyed, you two were suppose to hang out and be lovey-dovey like all couples would but here you are showing him how hyper-fixated you can be.

Seungmin sighs a second time, this time he wasn't only side-eyeing you he was full-on giving you his blank-stare. His eyes twitched slightly when he saw you smile at your handheld screen instead.

Your boyfriend's nerves irked slightly and decided to scoot closer to you.

He peeked at what you were looking at and saw that you were scrolling through Instagram and laughing slightly on some funny pictures.

Ah. So that's what is more important than me, he thought.

He wanted to divert your attention, so he eyed you for an idea.

Then it clicked, his face slowly morphed into a cute little grin.

Seungmin placed his hand on your thigh with a glint in his eyes but you just hummed when he did that, placing your head on his shoulder as you scroll through your feed.

His hands were getting antsy, so was something down there as he remembered the dreams he had about you all the time that inevitably causes him to wake up in morning sweat as well as soaked underwear.

He licked his lips as he turned his head to look down at you, still occupied. He raised his shoulder a bit as a signal to remove your head from his joint, to which you complied easily.

With excitement coursing through his veins, Seungmin started to lean into your neck, his lips touching your skin to which you responded with a small giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Woah, there — lover boy.” You mused, your favorite nickname for him rolling off your tongue smoothly.

“What's gotten into you?”

No response as Seungmin rested his face on your neck while his hand on your thigh slowly trailed into your middle.

Seungmin kissed your soft skin with warmth despite the feeling of lust building inside him. You didn't expect this sudden shower of love from him, but you graciously accepted it as you laid your phone down on the sheets.

His lips trailed from your neck to your jaw as he kissed it lightly, you closed your eyes and savored the feeling of his supple lips.

“The things I want to do to you, jagi...” He whispers hotly against your ear, then in a sudden flash — your positions changed from sitting side by side to him pinning you down the bed with his hands beside your head.

This shocked you of course, Seungmin does not look like someone who would be this domineering. With widened eyes you respond to his early statement with a light breath. “Seung..?”

“This phone seems more important to me huh?” He gawped, tossing the aforementioned device into the nightstand.

Then it hit you — after hearing his words. Deep inside, you wanted to laugh at the fact that this puppy is jealous of your phone. Seungmin noticed as he watched your expression closely, you were on the verge of laughter. He didn't like it one bit as he glared at you eye-to-eye, all thoughts of laughing faded like the wind.

The position was not family-friendly at all as Seungmin leaned down to connect both of your lips, you were familiar with kissing him as you do it all the time anyway but something about this certain kiss was different it had... more flare in a way. Without a word exchanged, Seungmin's tongue dived first into your mouth causing a muffled sound out of you.

By no means were you a virgin but in the 5 months with Seungmin, you had never had actual sex...

Seungmin's hands creeped up your shirt, while your own gripped the side of his body, you tried hard to reciprocate in the mouthful kiss but you weren't experienced at it while Seungmin seemed relaxed and confident as he shoved the muscle down your wet cavern.

He pulled away as a long trail of saliva was made, you were breathless and dizzy already but Seungmin wasn't done it seems.

His hands inside your shirt pinched a nub, causing it to be hard and erect, your muscle tensed slightly at the sensation.

“God.. Y/N, you look so pretty like this.” he curses as his mouth dives into your neck once again, to adorn it with purple blooms and to reap more sounds out of your innocent mouth.

“Seung, fuck... yeah, that feels so so g-good.”

His hand stopped massaging your left nub and switched to your right, stimulating it to the point that you felt yourself getting harder by the minute. You tilted your head back as Seungmin kissed down your neck, down to your collarbone.

Now, impatience was waning the atmosphere — Seungmin started rutting his hips into your thighs, the glide of his hard-on was hard to miss. Seungmin couldn't help but pull back to remove his shirt — his full lean torso was a sight for a split second before he started to remove your own shirt — raising your arms and tilting your head back.

At first, you were reluctant to show skin but Seungmin immediately removed that, “Fucking beautiful for me, jagi” he mumbles in a soft tone.

“I–I hate you.” you stutter out, trying to hide that underlying smile with your palm — your heart was drumming so fast, it was louder than sound of the AC in the corner

Seungmin tore his eyes away from your chest before landing on your covered face — he guided your blocking hand away, noticing every single detail and appreciating every inch of you.

His touch burned red wherever his fingertips landed, like hot wax melting over you — that tingling sensation rose as well as the butterfly flying in your stomach as cliché it may sound like.

You decided to get a little bit brave as your hands gripped Seungmin's shorts before dragging it over to the tent in his short as a subtle moan flew through Seungmin's lips.

“You don't know how long I've wanted to do this, Y/N — I wanna ruin you like this.” His voice mesmerizes you as you couldn't help but squeeze his erection a few times.

“Yeah?” you ask in awe as you relax underneath him.

He nods.

Seungmin started to grind into your hand while he bit your nipples, ravaging it like a last meal while your own hard-on was getting uncomfortable against your last pieces of clothing.

Your boyfriend wanted to go little-by-little and enjoy the moment before the high, a little maniacal grin clouds over his expression at the different possible thoughts flowing through his brain which was unbeknownst to you.

He stills for a moment, leaving you to catch your breath as he grabs something under the cushion of his bed.

You didn't even manage to get a glimpse of it before he pounces back to you, item in hand.

“Jagi, if you ever feel it's too much.. Just say the word, "Chocolate" alright?” He proffered, staring you down before kissing your lips.

“Okay.. Okay,” you breathed out, relaxing your nerves. Seungmin drags your pants down, your underwear following soon after — your legs closed instinctively but Seungmin pried it open, his attention on your expression for any discomfort.

You faltered for a bit but allowed him to do so.

Seungmin popped open the cap of the item he was holding as he towered over your body, then you felt something soft against your lips once again as you returned his kiss with want as well.

He positions your body so that your ass was more accessible to him, his fingers that were moist with something teased your puckered hole.

“Please, Seungmin — just quick..!” You assert when Seungmin pulled away from your swollen lips.

“You aren't in control here–not after ignoring me, my little slut.” Your eyes widened at the nickname, but at the same time — your dick twitched and Seungmin couldn't help but smile as he noticed that.

“So you like that huh?” He mocks.

“N-No..” you countered, only for him to shove two fingers immediately in your hole, the burning feeling making you bite back a moan.

He leans down towards your ear, his voice deepening, “I hear that now, but later — you'll be nothing but like a cumsock.” A

A shudder passed your whole body at the way he worded it, the head of your cock burned with each passing second without stimulation. “Seung, fuck...”, you cursed before he hit something with his digits that made your toes curl up in pleasure.

“Sir. Call me sir, slut.” he insists as a breath leaves your lips.

“Wh-Wha— N— Fuck!” you swore as he pressed his long fingers hard on a sensitive spot

A moan left you as he kept abusing a certain spot inside of you. Seungmin pulls his finger out, ripping a whine from you.

“Sir, fuck– Sir please..!” You begged, struggling helplessly as Seungmin watched your cock bounce while you thrust upwards to no avail.

“That's right, baby boy–God, you look so hot like this”

Seungmin's sweet praises rang in your ear like strings being strummed on a guitar, like light chords and tunes going in one ear then out the other. Seungmin's free hand wandered back into your chest, thumb massaging an erected bud as he took off his shorts with one hand. You couldn't tear your gaze away from his cock, pretty pink lush on the tip with veins popping on the side — size didn't matter for you but god that looked bigger than you thought.

Your boyfriend's face showed a condescending grin as he noticed your staring, his ego inflating over the edge.

A gasp shot out of your mouth as soon as Seungmin's hand wrapped both around your cocks, the friction of his cock against yours as well as Seungmin's hand was pure bliss, and you couldn't help but thrust your hips up and chase the pleasure.

Seungmin watched as your own pre-cum was enough to coat both of your cocks evenly—he let out a groan, finding your neediness hot.

You set up a faster pace — you were basically fucking his hand at this point — desperation clings to your raspy breaths as you chase that inevitable high but of course Seungmin had other ideas than to end his fantasies in such a short-lived way.

He pulls his hand away much to your disappointment.

“Wh-Why... Seu–Sir, god— H-Hand...” You babbled endlessly, your hand lingering over both your cocks wanting to release but Seungmin tsks at your disobedience. He grabs your free hands and pins it up your head—he wouldn't let you do as you please that easily.

A whine escaped your throat, still helplessly thrusting upwards and struggling against his grip — gaining pleasure from the friction of Seungmin's cock against yours, his dick resting just above your own.

“Disobedient slut, aren't you?” He says monotonously with a scowl on his face.

He hikes your legs up as you look up at him teary-eyed.

Your ass was fully exposed to him as he positioned his cock against your pulsating entrance — your breath caught in your throat as you felt the head of his dick prod your rim but not pushing in at all.

You awaited the oncoming onslaught but Seungmin was not about to let you feel that gratification that easily.

With a grin, he leans down to mouth at your neck as he keeps his cock at bay — like withholding food from a hungry man.

Your hips sink down against his hard cock with want but doesn't do anything except make Seungmin's cock glide against the crack of your ass — he grins, knowing you were at the verge of breaking which was what he wanted in the first place. To break you as a punishment.

Seungmin's hand couldn't help but wander to your neglected cock — as to add insult to injury; he jerks it off, once or twice as a tease and that was it for you.

A sob left your mouth as you relaxed into the bed, mind too hazy to notice.

A chuckle emerged from your boyfriend as he shoved his entire cock into you in one go, moaning lowly at the feeling of your walls against his sensitive dick.

“Fuck, so tight—just for me.”

“Mm, sirrr...” You said empty-headed in response, his cock reaching and hitting places that made you quiver in total euphoric pleasure, he was leaking inside you — already coating your walls while languidly rutted inside you, his speed increasing by the minute.

“Good fucking slut.” he gruffly babbles, palm squeezing your thighs intensely— for sure to leave red hand marks in the aftermath.

Seungmin was sure to hit your prostate, multiple times — milking it for what it's worth and creating that onset feeling within your abdomen.

Moans, gurgles and the creaking of the wooden bed were the only sounds bouncing off his apartment's walls, for sure — Seungmin's neighbors are gonna be angry at him, the next day.

“Close, jagi?” he asks roughly, as he pulls your hips back onto his cock — making you feel every inch of him.

You nod twice, drool escaping from your swollen lips as every glide of Seungmin's cock against your walls continues the building orgasm.

On instinct, Seungmin moves his hand up your body and wraps it around your neck — your breath catching on your throat at the restriction. Seungmin slams his cock inside you with vigor, his balls hitting the cleft of your ass cheek at the power of his thrusts. Your eyes rolls back at your airways being blocked as you

With one last hit towards your prostate — you spurt your release untouched with a scratchy moan.

You gasp against Seungmin's chokehold as white comes out of tip like an endless stream, electric shock coursing through your body at the intensity.

Seungmin's hand leaves a print on your neck as he pulls away, air finally filling your lungs desperately.

Seungmin is in awe of your fucked-out expression and couldn't help but reach for your cock that was dribbling with cum — he jerks it off in rhythm with his erratic thrust, fucking you through your orgasm as all you could do was whine as you reached out to touch Seungmin's chest, finger catching on his nipples.

Seungmin welcomes the extra stimulation on his lean body, his thrust going faster and harder until and with the release of Seungmin's held breath, his hips stilling as he soils your insides with white, thick release.

He breathes heavily as he slumps on top of you — your chest touching and sticky with your fluid. “Mmm, Seung— heavy, get off me.” You mumble, clenching around him with a groan.

Seungmin laughs bubbly, “Still not done, baby boy.” He whispers, pulling out of your slick hole with a pop, his cum gently streaming out of your rim before he positions his finger back in, one digit then comes two.

“Mmm...”

“Like that?” Seungmin says, motioning his wrist perfectly to that sensitive spot.

“A-Ah.. Yeah...” You confirm with a modest nod, enjoying the pleasure from Seungmin's long fingers.

Two fingers shortly turn to three as Seungmin shoves his digits inside your cum-slicked hole — loving the way you clench and stiffen at the feeling.

A few minutes passed as Seungmin played with your hole to yours and to his surprise — he added another finger, then the last until your hole managed to fit his whole fist in.

“Fuck, you're so loose from me, jagi.” He comments as he thrust his entire fist inside you as you let out trembling breaths at the burning stretch. Seungmin manages to get it in up until his wrist before he stills his hand inside of you, your chest heaved before he finally pulls his whole hand out — your hole unclenching as Seungmin's cum drips out.

Seungmin immediately straightens his body and peppers your face with soft kisses, you exhale shakily — gripping into Seungmin's bicep as you let him shower you with love. “You were so good, so good for me—jagi, so pretty.”

Though your entire body ache from a passionate and rough time, you smiled up at your lover, “Yeah, yeah—lover boy.” You mumble through closed lashes, feeling a bit cloudy still as Seungmin touches your parts of your body that he marked up fondly.

“Good?” he asks attentively.

“Yeah, was' fun.”

“Need anything, love?”

“Nope, just sleep...” you grumble, exhausted from the 'activity'.

“Better rest up, cuz we still have lots to continue later~ Oh- and I'm confiscating your phone.” He says with a tooth-eating grin, you rolled your eyes at that — grabbing the nearest pillow and hitting him straight in the cheek as he reaches for your phone.

“Hey— Ow!”

You laughed loudly, as you stood up and ran with a limp towards the kitchen area.

“Oh no you didn't— Get the fuck ba—”Seungmin cuts himself off by tripping on the blanket.

Your annoying laugh echoed at Seungmin's misfortune but when Seungmin gets his hands on you... Hmm, there's no telling.

[mononijikayu]

love of my life — geto suguru.

When Geto Suguru walked through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked both familiar and distant, the lines of weariness etched deeper than you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Genre: Alternate Universe - No Curse (Modern Day)

Warning/s: Actors AU!, Romance, Actors in Love, Secret Romance Trope, Co-workers In Love, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Exes, Angst, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Emotional Hurt, Break-Up, Happy Ending, Profanity, Mention of Sexual Contexts, Mention of Exes Getitng Back Together, Depiction of Break-Up, Depiction of Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Alcohol, Geto Suguru as a Singer-Songwriting Actor, Reader is his Muse, HE IS IN LOVE YOUR HONOR;

masterlist

song: love of my life by queen.

note: i ended up rewatching the videos by cut and im still struck by the conversation between tony and sofya in truth or drink and got inspired. i hope that they find the happiness that they always deserved and know that the love they had at one point was something else. anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you guys have a good one!!! i love you <3333

YOU WERE EXCITED FOR YOUR CHARACTER. You couldn’t help but feel excitement flood through you as you read through the words across the pages over and over. You could not stop reading. The writing was really well done for this part of the manga, and so when you heard that this part of the story was finally going to make it into the screen, you were ecstatic. 

You hummed as you tried to speak a line, one after another, in different tones and textures. Often, you would bring a pen with you and write off what you think about the scene and how you want to say it. But getting this from your manager just now, you wanted to immediately dive into it and so, you neglected the pen. You’ll make a mental note about it. 

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you settled into the languid table, your vibrant eyes skimming over the script. The coffee machine’s sound echoed for a moment. Your drink was done. You put down the script for a moment and walked over to your coffee machine.

You pour some on the mug waiting on the corner. Rushing over to the fridge, you take the carton of milk and pour a little bit of it on your cup. You didn’t put in that much milk. You wanted to be active as you read, the milk would make you sleepy. 

Script in hand and coffee secured, you make your way into the living room and carefully rested the mug on the coffee table. You plopped your body onto the couch once again and started to read once more. You were captivated by the story when it first came out in serialization.

But you never expected that it would grow big like this one day and even more so, play one of your favorite characters in the show. You were glad for the opportunity, when it first came around. The yes was immediate and one season and a movie — you were now here, for another season once again.

“Oh, so that scene with Suguru is happening, hm?” You gasp, your eyes scanning through the words. “Yo! Suguru, they’re not going to disappear, don’t hog them, oh my god.”

Your character was the only senior left in Tokyo Jujutsu High by that point and so, they guide them into the ropes of being sorcerers. In modern times, they’re very close, Satoru and your character. You were both left behind by Suguru's character.

But before that, there was Suguru and Suguru was in love with their senpai, but staved off for Satoru. But this scene, in Okinawa, was the moment Suguru couldn’t help it anymore and thought about making a move. You flipped another page.

“Oh baby, you’re gonna be so sad when he leaves.” You muttered under your breath, continuing to read. “Don’t start something you can’t continue!”

“Don’t start something I can’t continue?” You heard the voice echo through the apartment. Your head snaps to the direction of the door and you smile, seeing his purple eyes gleam against yours. “What do you have on hand, darling?”

“Script’s arrived!” You say, waving your own in the air. You pointed to the side. “Your manager left yours here too.”

Geto Suguru blinked, looking at where you were pointing out. “Wow, I didn’t think that it would get here this early.”

“Right?” You say as you look at the scripts again. “They really crunched the writing time this time. And it’s so good!”

“Well, they finally got the approval from Akutami–sensei fast this time.”

“I suppose they probably did.” 

He hums as he walks over to you and sits down by you. He turns to you and places a small kiss on your lips. ”Hey, love.”

“Hey, Sugu.” You whisper back. “You’re home late.”

"Sorry I'm late. The recording ran longer than expected."

You smiled up at him, feeling the familiar warmth that always accompanied his presence. "It's okay. How did it go?"

He slid into the seat opposite me, his purple eyes sparkling with excitement. "It went great. I think you're going to love the new song. It's… special."

"You always say that, Sugu." You teased, though you knew this one would be extraordinary, just like all the others.

“Well, it's because you’re the only person I write about.” He grins at you sheepishly. “And I am in love with you.”

“Hm…that’s true.” You giggle.

“Anything interesting in the script?”

“Oh, darling, you have no idea! Let me catch you up!”

The two of you spent the next hour discussing the show, your upcoming scenes, and the plans for your future projects. He told you about the upcoming releases he has for his music, if he was planning to go touring again.

It was moments like these, away from the glitz and glamor, that you think you cherished the most. You were both natural, you were just whole — together. Here, we were just two people in love, supporting each other through the highs and lows of your demanding careers.

Once you finished the other script you were going to receive in the upcoming week for a movie you were going to star in, Suguru sighed and looked at you for a moment. He often does that, trying to memorize the wonder in your face, over and over again.

He’s often away from you because of work too. And so he takes it all in. He burns the memory of you so deeply into him that it's all he remembers for weeks and months until you both meet again.

Suguru took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You know, I was thinking about our next awards show. I have a feeling you might be giving another speech soon."

You laughed, shaking my head. "And you know I'll be paying homage to you, as always."

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And I'll be in the front row, cheering you on, as always."

Geto Suguru is your lover. But he’s also your co–worker on multiple projects, including Jujutsu Kaisen. The beloved charismatic actor with a voice that could melt hearts, had captured your attention from the moment you first met on set. His passion for acting was matched only by his love for music. He was such an addition to the casting list, because he’d been popular since he was a teenager and he only kept getting popular with time. 

Everything about Suguru was electric. From the moment you met him, he exuded a kind of wonder that drew you in effortlessly. As your senpai in the industry, he was a bit older and infinitely wiser, but unlike others you had encountered, he didn't just guide you—he cared for you deeply, nurturing your talents and helping you grow.

He was always there with a kind word and enthusiastic encouragement, urging you to accept scripts that came your way and guiding you on how to navigate the complexities of the industry. His wisdom extended beyond acting techniques; he knew how to choose stories that would resonate with you, stories that would challenge and inspire.

"Remember, it's not just about the lines you deliver," he once said over coffee, his eyes sparkling with sincerity. "It's about the stories you choose to tell. Each role you take on is a part of your journey as an artist."

He taught you the intricacies of set dynamics, the unspoken rules of professionalism, and the importance of forging genuine connections in a competitive world. Suguru didn't just impart knowledge; he shared his passion for storytelling and his belief in your potential.

You were grateful for his presence in your life, not just as a mentor but as a friend who believed in you when doubt crept in. His kindness and enthusiasm were infectious, and every interaction with him left you feeling inspired and capable of reaching new heights.

As you reflected on your journey together, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of how far you had come under his guidance. Suguru was more than a mentor; he was a guiding light in an industry that could sometimes feel overwhelming. And for that, you were endlessly thankful.

The kindness and care Suguru showed extended far beyond the flicker of the camera lens. Alongside Satoru, the three of you often found yourselves on spontaneous trips together. When Utahime and Shoko weren't caught up in their own burgeoning careers, they joined in too. These moments outside of work allowed your bond with Suguru to deepen naturally over time.

As you explored new places together, shared meals, and exchanged stories under starlit skies, a subtle shift occurred. What began as admiration for his talent and guidance blossomed into something more profound. Suguru's laughter became the soundtrack to your happiest memories, his understanding gaze a sanctuary in moments of uncertainty.

One night, sitting by a crackling campfire under a blanket of stars, Suguru reached for your hand. The warmth of his touch spoke volumes, words unspoken yet understood between you. 

"I never expected this, you know." he murmured, his voice soft with wonder.

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. "Me neither." you confessed, feeling the weight of truth and possibility melt into one in the air.

As days turned into weeks and months, the realization grew stronger: you had fallen in love with Suguru. His kindness, wisdom, and unwavering support had woven their way into your heart, creating a tapestry of feelings that surpassed friendship and mentorship.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon painting the sky in hues of gold and crimson, you found yourselves alone by a tranquil lake. The serenity of the moment mirrored the quiet certainty in your hearts.

"I love you, doll." Suguru finally whispered, his eyes holding yours with a depth that took your breath away.

Tears glistened in your eyes as you replied, "I love you too, Suguru." the words a promise of shared dreams and endless possibilities.

In that serene moment, under the canopy of stars and the gentle rustle of leaves, romance bloomed between you—born from shared adventures, mutual respect, and a love that had quietly taken root and blossomed into something beautiful.

After those tranquil moments by the lake, Suguru and you returned to your bustling lives, carrying the newfound certainty of your love like a secret little treasure—one that only you could find. And you were happy with that. You wanted to make the privacy continue and so did he. The world has no claim to your love, until you both were comfortable about sharing it to the world.

In the whirlwind of your demanding careers, where every moment seemed accounted for and every move scrutinized, you discovered a sanctuary in stolen moments together. Your love thrived in the secrecy of stolen kisses exchanged on secluded corners of film sets, where the world couldn't intrude. 

Backstage at glittering award shows, amidst the clamor and flashbulbs, your fingers intertwined, a silent declaration of affection amid the spectacle. Despite the challenges that you both faced, from conflicting schedules to the relentless glare of media attention, you both carved out your own private oasis, where your connection deepened, nurtured by these precious, stolen moments.

It was during one of these stolen moments, when the whole Jujutsu Kaisen cast went on a spontaneous ski trip to the mountain, that the world caught a glimpse of our budding romance.

Paparazzi cameras flashed as we laughed and skied down powdery slopes, oblivious to the lenses capturing your every move. One kiss was all it took, and it was because you were desperate, you missed him too much and he obliged you, not caring who sees you both.

The photos splashed across tabloids and social media, sparking speculation and curiosity among fans and industry insiders alike. Your management started trying to do damage control at this time, as you both were not yet ready to say anything.

For days, the two of you navigated the newfound attention with a mix of amusement and caution, unsure of how to address the public's piqued interest in your personal lives.

But amidst the frenzy, there was a quiet certainty between us. One evening, as you and Suguru sat together in his cozy cabin retreat in the countryside. It was one of the places you loved being with him. Both of you were comfortable here, and no one was harassing you both. It was a change of pace from the city and for that you were glad. You knew your lover was in distress watching you have to be followed by cameras. 

It would have been fine if it was just him, but it was hard to see you struggle with that unwanted attention. But here, at the very least, he could be reassured that no one was going to be chasing after you both to catch a scoop for the newspaper tabloids tomorrow. You were in peace, watching the stars, surrounded by flickering firelight and the hush of falling snow outside, we knew it was time.

"I think we should tell them," Suguru said softly, his gaze steady and reassuring.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so too. It's just... it feels like the right time, doesn't it?"

Suguru's smile was tender. "It does. We've been keeping this between us for so long. It's about time we let them know."

There was a mix of relief and nervous anticipation in your chest. The decision to share your relationship with others meant opening yourselves to scrutiny, but also embracing a newfound freedom in being open about your love.

"I'm glad you feel that way," you admitted, squeezing Suguru's hand gently. "I've been thinking about how we'd do it, though. Should we just... announce it? Or maybe ease into it somehow?"

Suguru considered for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "I think a quiet announcement, something personal. Maybe a statement or a post, just letting people in a bit. Nothing flashy, just sincere."

You smiled, feeling reassured by his calm demeanor. "That sounds perfect."

Together, both of you crafted a heartfelt message to the world via Instagram. You posted pictures of you both through the years, showing the little glimpses of the two of you, from colleagues to friends, and finally to lovers. You wrote about your deep respect and admiration you had for each other, of the shared moments that had brought you closer, and the joy you found in each other’s presence. 

When the announcement went live on your social media accounts, the response was overwhelming. Messages of love and support poured in from fans, friends, and colleagues alike. The world celebrated your love story, touched by the sincerity and authenticity of your words. And people were hooked about your romance. Somehow, the world saw an it couple. People gushed over everything about you.

Over the years, Geto Suguru had poured his heart into composing songs that were not just music, but reflections of your relationship. Each song was a tapestry woven with threads of joy, resilience, and quiet understanding. No one would understand each song better than you. Each lyric was a brushstroke capturing the nuances that only belonged to the two of you.

In the private moments between tours and film sets, Suguru would often retreat with his guitar, letting melodies weave themselves around the emotions that sparked everything that made him think of you.

He found inspiration in the simplest gestures—a shared smile across a crowded room, the touch of hands entwined in a moment of quiet intimacy, or the unspoken reassurance in a glance exchanged amid hectic schedules.

His songs became a soundtrack to your lives, resonating with authenticity that transcended mere performance. Through his music, Suguru painted vivid portraits of shared laughter under starlit skies, whispered promises exchanged in moments stolen away from the world, and the profound sense of belonging that anchored us amidst the whirlwind of fame and public scrutiny.

As his compositions evolved, so did your relationship, and each new song became a chapter in a long and happy road that you both dwelled on. The world watched with fascination as your on-screen chemistry seamlessly transitioned into real-life devotion, and fans marveled at the palpable love that radiated between the both of you on and off the screen.

In the spotlight of a concert hall filled with eager listeners, Suguru stood before a sea of faces, his guitar a conduit for emotions that flowed freely from heart to fingertips. With each strum and every lyric sung with unwavering passion, he not only shared your story but invited the audience into the intimate spaces where your love blossomed and flourished.

And as he dedicated a song to someone special, his eyes met yours in the front row, a silent acknowledgment of the journey they had embarked on together—a journey immortalized in melodies that would linger in the hearts of all who bore witness to this love story.

The audience hushed as Suguru walked over to the microphone and spoke into the microphone, his voice carrying a soft warmth that filled the room. You could feel your heart pounding as he tried to find you. When your eyes met, it was electric.

"Tonight, I want to dedicate a song to someone very special." His eyes met yours in the front row, where you sat, heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze. “Love of my life, up on that balcony! Doll, I love you. I hope you know that all this would never exist without you.”

As the first chords of the guitar filled the air, memories flooded back—late-night conversations, stolen kisses, moments of quiet intimacy that had woven themselves into the fabric of our lives. The world had watched in awe as our on-screen chemistry translated seamlessly into real life, and our fans often remarked on the palpable love we had for each other.

Suguru's voice resonated with emotion as he sang, each word a love letter whispered to your heart.  The world was singing songs to the words, the poems he wrote to you and only you. And you couldn’t feel any happier. Any more content, to be this loved. To be the only person that he truly deeply loves.

The lyrics painted a portrait of our journey, from tentative beginnings to a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger. In that moment, surrounded by the melody and the warmth of Suguru's presence, you knew that this was more than a concert—it was a declaration, a celebration of a love that had transcended the screen and found its place in the hearts of everyone present.

As the final notes faded into the air, applause erupted, but all you could hear was the beating of your heart, synchronized with Suguru's, united in the melody of a love song that would resonate long after the last encore. The crowd clapped and cheered. You felt your eyes water with nothing but tears of joy.

He looked at you with that loving grin that was only for you.

The one that would stick with you for the rest of your life.

A month later, you both were in the clasp of your break up.

YOU DON’T KNOW HOW IT ALL FELL FAST. Work had always been demanding, but recently, it seemed to swallow up every spare moment. Your schedules became a maze of conflicting obligations, leaving little room for the moments of connection that once defined your relationship. As days turned into weeks without seeing each other, and unanswered messages piled up, the distance between you grew palpable.

One evening, after another missed opportunity to meet, you couldn't contain your concerns any longer. Sitting across from Suguru in a dimly lit corner of a bar, you voiced your worries, the words tinged with frustration and worry. "I feel like we're drifting apart. We hardly see each other anymore, and I miss you, Suguru.”

Suguru's response was unexpectedly calm, his demeanor unwavering. "We're fine, babe." he assured you, his voice steady but distant. “You know that.”

Frustration flared within you, fueled by the sting of his apparent indifference. "Fine?" you retorted, the words tinged with frustration and hurt. "How can you say that? We haven't even talked properly in weeks. I don't feel like my needs are being met, Suguru."

The bitterness of unspoken grievances bubbled to the surface, amplified by the haze of alcohol and the weight of unaddressed concerns. Pushing further, you demanded clarity. "When can we talk about this? When will you make time for us?"

Suguru's response was curt, his own patience wearing thin. "Not now, okay? I have too much on my plate."

The tension hung heavy in the air, charged with unresolved emotions and the sharp edges of unmet expectations. You leaned forward, voice tinged with desperation and a tinge of anger. "How long are we going to keep putting this off, Suguru? I need to know where we stand."

Suguru's expression tightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "I said not now, alright? Can't you see I'm dealing with a lot right now?"

The words cut deeper than intended, slicing through the fragile thread of patience that held you both together. "I get that you're busy," you shot back, the bitterness in your voice betraying the hurt beneath. "But what about us? Are we just going to keep pretending everything's okay until it's too late?"

His silence spoke volumes, a testament to the growing distance between you. The crowded bar seemed to fade into the background as the weight of your words settled between you like an unbridgeable chasm. In that moment, the stark reality of your situation crystallized—you were drifting apart, caught in the undertow of careers that had once bound you together but now threatened to tear you apart.

The ache of longing mingled with frustration as you searched his eyes for a glimmer of reassurance, a sign that he still cared enough to fight for what you once had. But all you found was a weary resignation, a reflection of his own internal battles and the relentless demands of fame.

"We can't keep avoiding this," you finally whispered, the admission heavy with resignation. "I need more than just promises, Suguru. I need you."

Suguru's jaw tightened visibly, his normally composed demeanor cracking under the strain of your words. "What do you want from me, huh?" His voice, usually calm and steady, now carried a sharp edge of frustration. "I'm doing the best I can here. I have responsibilities, deadlines—"

"Responsibilities? Deadlines?" You couldn't hold back the bitterness that laced your retort. "What about us? Where do we fit into your grand plans, Suguru?"

The bar seemed to shrink around you, the noise of other patrons fading into a distant hum as your argument escalated. Anger surged through you, fueled by months of feeling sidelined and ignored. "I'm tired of waiting for you to have time for us. We used to make time, remember?"

His silence was damning, a stark confirmation of the growing divide between you. "You're being unreasonable," Suguru shot back, his voice rising slightly. "You know how important my work is."

"And what about how important we are?" The words slipped out like a dagger, cutting through the last vestiges of restraint. "I feel like I'm competing with your career for your attention, and I'm losing."

A wave of regret washed over Suguru's features, but his reply was defensive. "I can't just drop everything whenever you want me to, doll." he said, voice tinged with frustration. “It’s not that easy!”

"Then when, Suguru? When will you make time for us?" The plea in your voice was raw, exposed in the harsh light of reality. "Or are we just going to keep drifting further apart until there's nothing left?"

The accusation hung heavy in the air, a painful admission of the cracks that had formed in your once-solid foundation. In the charged silence that followed, neither of you seemed to have an answer, each grappling with the weight of unspoken truths and the daunting prospect of what lay ahead for a relationship once filled with promise, now teetering on the brink of irreparable damage.

Suguru's jaw tightened further, his gaze flickering with a mix of anger and hurt. "I don't know, okay?" His voice wavered, betraying the turmoil within. "I'm trying to balance everything, but it's not easy. Can't you see that?"

Frustration gnawed at your resolve, tears threatening to spill over as the ache of longing collided with the sting of his words. "I just need to know that we are still a priority to you." you whispered, voice cracking with emotion.

"I'm sorry. Suguru replied, his tone softer now, tinged with remorse. "I didn't mean for it to be like this. I thought... I thought we could make it work. We always have—”

The weight of his admission hung heavy in the air, a fragile bridge over the chasm that had widened between you. "So did I," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't keep going on like this, Suguru. Something has to change. We can’t continue like we always have and I just…”

For a moment, there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes, an acknowledgment of the pain and uncertainty. "Maybe... maybe we need some time," Suguru suggested tentatively, his voice tinged with resignation. "To figure things out. Cool down.”

The words landed heavily, their implications sinking in like stones cast into still waters.

Time—perhaps the only currency left to salvage what remained of your fractured relationship. In the dimly lit bar, amidst the ebb and flow of conversations that now seemed distant and inconsequential, you both grappled with the reality of what lay ahead. It was a crossroads of roads not taken.

Your heart sank as Suguru's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the reality you both faced. Time—a desperate plea for a lifeline amidst the storm threatening to tear you apart. But beneath his suggestion lingered the unspoken truth, a truth you could no longer deny.

"I think... maybe we need more than just time, Suguru." you replied softly, each word heavy with the weight of impending sorrow.

Suguru's brow furrowed, confusion etched across his features as he searched your eyes for clarity. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Your voice caught, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I think we need to break up, Suguru."

The words hung between you, heavy and final. The air seemed to still, the ambient sounds of the bar fading into a distant echo as the gravity of your declaration settled over both of you. Suguru's expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then to a desperate plea as he reached out, his hand trembling slightly.

"No." he whispered, his voice cracking with a mixture of anguish and denial. "Please, don't do this. We can work through this, I know we can."

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you shook your head, unable to meet his pleading gaze. "I don't think we can." you managed, voice breaking with the weight of your decision. "I can't keep feeling like I'm second to everything else in your life. I need more than what we have now."

Suguru's hand dropped to his side, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "But I love you, doll." he pleaded softly, voice thick with emotion. "I love you more than anything."

The pain in his voice mirrored your own, one that understands the gravity of this situation. But love alone couldn't bridge the gap that had grown between you, nor could it erase the wounds inflicted by neglect and unfulfilled promises. You can’t keep climbing on seesaws and expect no one will fall. Someone has to get down before someone hurts someone worse.

"I know." you whispered hoarsely, your heart breaking with every syllable. "But love isn't enough anymore."

With those final words, you turned away, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer. Each step felt like a farewell to a chapter of your life that had once held so much promise, now shrouded in the ache of what could have been.

“Goodbye, Suguru.” You whisper to him.

As he watched you leave,  Geto Suguru remained rooted to the spot, a solitary figure amidst the bustling bar, grappling with the sudden emptiness that enveloped him. As you disappeared into the night, the echoes of your decision lingered, leaving behind a void that neither time nor distance could easily fill. 

Like he was then, he was alone again. 

There were no more love songs to write.

After all, he doesn’t have a muse anymore.

IT WAS A HARD THING, POST BREAK UP. After months of deliberate distance, you had meticulously carved out a life without Geto Suguru—deleting social media, blocking his number, and meticulously avoiding any reminders of the past. It wasn't about erasing him; it was about finding clarity amidst the pain.

Yet, despite the space you sought, thoughts of him lingered, an unwelcome but constant presence in your thoughts. You hadn't wanted to discard everything you had shared—your friendship, the laughter, the late-night conversation. But the ache of heartache had necessitated the separation. And that separation, it was what you can’t do away with. Pain was always necessary to living. You can’t always be happy about things all the time.

Then came the unexpected twist: the news that you and Suguru were paired for the upcoming promotions of Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2. Your manager pitched an idea that made your heart sink and pulse race simultaneously—an appearance on a popular show where you both would participate in a "Truth or Drink" segment.

The proposition was daunting. The prospect of facing Suguru after all this time, under the scrutiny of cameras and questions designed to peel back layers you had painstakingly protected, left you torn. Part of you longed for closure, a chance to mend what had fractured. Another part feared reopening wounds that had barely begun to heal.

Deep down, you knew one thing: despite the pain, you still cared. You wanted to salvage what remained—a friendship built on shared dreams and mutual respect. The thought of facing him again, navigating the uncertain terrain of unspoken apologies and lingering affection, stirred a tumult of emotions.

As you mulled over the proposal, uncertainty clouded your judgment. Could this show be a bridge to reconciliation, a chance to mend fences and rediscover the camaraderie that had once defined your bond? Or would it unravel the fragile peace you had painstakingly cultivated in his absence?

With a sigh, you realized that regardless of the risks, the opportunity to reconnect, to confront the unresolved emotions that had tethered you to Suguru, was one you couldn't dismiss lightly. Whatever lay ahead, it was time to face the truth, whether through words spoken or drinks shared, in hopes of finding a way forward, together or apart.

You stared at the email on your screen, heart pounding with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Your manager had just sent the proposal to Suguru's team, and surprisingly, he had accepted. A wave of emotions crashed over you—relief, nervousness, and a flicker of hope.

Days passed before the meeting was set in a quiet cafe near your house, chosen for its familiarity and the privacy it offered amidst the city's bustle. You after all preferred to live in a more down low neighborhood than most celebrities. You arrived early, hands trembling slightly as you waited, nerves building with each passing minute.

When Geto Suguru walked through the door, you felt your breath catch. He looked both familiar and distant, the lines of weariness etched deeper than you remembered. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

He was still the man you loved and the man that broke your heart—he was everything to you and he was nothing all at once. And you wished, you wished you could decide what he was, truly.

Finally, Suguru broke the silence, his voice tentative yet determined. "Hey, doll." he murmured, sliding into the seat opposite you.

"Hi.” you replied softly, managing a small smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. Your nickname makes you feel weird all the sudden, after not hearing it for so long. “It’s nice to see you.”

He nodded back at you. The silence stretched between you, pregnant with unspoken apologies and lingering questions. Finally, Suguru cleared his throat, gaze searching yours with a mix of regret and longing. "I... I didn't expect us to meet like this, truly." he admitted, voice tinged with sincerity.

"Neither did I." you confessed, fingers tracing patterns on the tabletop. "But here we are."

Suguru nodded, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "About that Youtube show... I didn't think you'd agree to it."

You exhaled slowly, the weight of your decision settling over you. "I... I think it could be good for us." you admitted, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "To talk. To clear the air. There’s….a lot of misinformation.”

"I want that too," Suguru said quietly, his gaze meeting yours with a glimmer of hope tempered by caution. "To clear your name from all those nasty rumors, once and for all."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and gratitude at his words. The weight of the accusations that had circulated, tarnishing your reputation and testing your resilience, had been a burden you bore alone. To hear that one day, Suguru made the decision to take legal action against those responsible stirred a wave of emotions within you.

"I didn't think you'd sue those people." you admitted, your voice soft with both relief and lingering disbelief. The thought of confronting the falsehoods head-on had initially seemed daunting, even isolating, but knowing Suguru stood by you brought a renewed sense of strength.

Suguru reached across the table, his hand finding yours in a gesture that spoke volumes. "I couldn't stand by and watch you suffer, doll." he murmured, his gaze intense yet reassuring. "You deserve to be heard, to set the record straight."

His words resonated deep within you, a validation of your struggle and a beacon of support in the face of adversity. For the first time in months, you allowed yourself to believe that perhaps, together, you could navigate the storm that had threatened to tear you apart.

 "I've missed... talking to you." He admitted to you.

The admission hung between you, a fragile bridge over the chasm of hurt and regret that had kept you apart. For a moment, you both sat in companionable silence, the warmth of shared memories mingling with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

"I've missed it too." you finally admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “More than you know.”

Silence engulfed you both for a moment, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions lingering between you like a palpable presence. Suguru's question hung in the air, a tentative bridge over the divide that had grown between you.

"How have you been?" he asked softly, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and genuine concern.

You took a deep breath, the question unraveling a floodgate of thoughts and feelings you had guarded so carefully. "It's been... challenging." you admitted finally, your gaze drifting to the tabletop as you searched for the right words. "Lonely, at times. But I've been trying to focus on moving forward."

Suguru nodded slowly, his expression reflecting a blend of understanding and regret. "I'm sorry, doll." he murmured, his voice tinged with remorse. "For everything."

The sincerity in his words touched a chord within you, a reminder of the bond you had once shared and the wounds that had driven you apart. "I know, Suguru." you replied softly, meeting his gaze with tenderness. "I've missed talking to you."

A flicker of relief crossed Suguru's features, his shoulders relaxing marginally. "I've missed it too." he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s hard….not being able to talk to you.”

The admission hung between you, a fragile thread connecting past regrets to uncertain futures. In that moment, the bustling cafe seemed to fade away, leaving only the echo of shared memories and the tentative hope of reconciliation.

"I don't know where we go from here, after we do the show." you confessed, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Suguru reached across the table once more, his hand finding yours with a gentle squeeze. "Maybe we start with honesty," he suggested quietly, his gaze unwavering. "And take it one step at a time."

You didn’t know what else to say to him.

But you think that you both long for the same things in life.

You wanted to stay in each other’s lives for as long as possible.

SO CAME THAT DAY. When you arrived in the studio, you didn’t know what you were going to do. But the more you think about him being there, being with you to hold your hand to talk you through it, the more you think that you might get somewhere.

You and Suguru sat across from each other, the sounds of music floating softly in the background. The line up of alcoholic beverages on the table along with shot glasses and a cup of soda for a chaser. The tension in the air was palpable, each of you unsure of what this conversation might reveal. 

Emotions churned beneath the surface, like a storm gathering strength, and the truths that might come out held the potential to either break or shatter what remained between you. Suguru and you wanted to be honest, to address things properly, but also to keep some boundaries intact. But then again, how could you, when it came to him? He was the love of your life. And you knew you were his. 

As you sat down, you smiled at him, a gesture that felt both familiar and foreign. He smiled back, as tenderly as he could, just as he always had. For a moment, you were transported back to a time when things were simpler, when the man sitting across from you was the one you fell in love with. His eyes held the same warmth, the same quiet intensity that had once captivated you.

"You know….I really don’t know what’s going to come out of this conversation between us." Suguru said, his voice trembling slightly. But he smiles, as though trying to comfort you too. “This is a new sort of conversation to have in front of the camera.”

You glanced at him, your own hands shaking. You laugh shakily. "Don’t worry. I feel that too. I don’t think that this is gonna be any easy for us.  I'm afraid it's going to be like..." You railed off, unable to finish the thought. “You know what, let that thought disappear.”

"Do you want to go... Yeah," he chuckled nervously. “Let it disappear with a drink.”

“Pour it down, Sugu!”

You watched Suguru take a deep breath, his hands steady as he poured the clear liquid into the small shot glasses lined up between you. The familiar scent of vodka filled the air, a sharp contrast to the subdued atmosphere that had settled over the table.

"You really went with vodka first?" you quipped lightly, a hint of amusement coloring your tone despite the nerves that fluttered in your stomach.

Suguru chuckled softly, the sound familiar and comforting. "It's the closest to grab!" he replied with a half-smile, his eyes meeting yours briefly before returning his attention to the task at hand.

A moment later, you both raised the glasses to your lips, the cool liquid burning slightly as it slid down your throat. The familiar warmth spread through you, a mixture of nerves and determination mingling in the shared ritual. As you set the empty glasses back on the table, a sense of tenderness settled between you. Liquid courage settled tremendously well.

"Here goes nothing, Sugu." you murmured, meeting Suguru's gaze with a mixture of apprehension and resolve.

"Nothing we can't handle, doll." he replied softly, his voice carrying a reassurance that eased the lingering doubts. 

You shake your head at him, as he smiles as you introduce yourself. "And I play his situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen." you said, breaking the ice. He laughs.

"And I'm Geto Suguru." he replied, smiling faintly. “I also play their situationship in Jujutsu Kaisen.”

"We used to date each other.” you continued, looking at him.

"Is dating the right word?" he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Yeah, I think it could be the right one." you nodded. "I mean, people who date also live together!" 

"For many happy years, I may add." he added, and you both laughed at the shared memory. “Those were the days.”

"I guess that's how we know each other. Then, we broke up a few months ago." You said, the laughter fading into a more somber mood. 

“That really killed the mood so fast in the studio!” Suguru laughs. “We are so sorry about that.”

“I feel like I need a penalty shot for that.” You laughed with him.

“Should I pour some whiskey for that?”

“Yeah, why not?” You say as you watched him pour the whiskey

"Okay," Suguru said, raising his glass. "Cheers."

“Cheers.” You clink your glass with his and you start drinking. 

It was your turn to pick up a flashcard, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it from the pile. Across the table, Suguru had already started sipping his chaser, a nervous habit that betrayed the gravity of the game you were about to play.

"Am I a better lover than who you're currently with?" you asked, your voice steady despite the sudden seriousness that settled over the conversation.

Suguru paused mid-sip, his expression shifting from casual to contemplative. "I'm not currently going out with anyone, that's for sure." he admitted quietly, setting down his glass. His gaze met yours, earnest and vulnerable. "And because of that, yes. You are a better lover. Probably always will be my best lover."

The honesty in his words took you aback, a mix of validation and melancholy washing over you. To hear Suguru acknowledge the depth of your connection, even amidst the uncertainties that had driven you apart, stirred a tumult of emotions within.

"I..." You faltered, unsure how to respond to such candid admission. The weight of his words hung between you, echoing the intensity that had defined your relationship. “That was not the answer I was expecting from you. I thought you were already dating.”

“I doubt that I could get over you very quickly.” Suguru sighs.

"Do you think they feel the same way?" a female staff voice interjected.

“Do you?” Suguru turned to look at you.

“Yeah.” You responded to him a moment later. “I’m also not seeing anyone, so…. I doubt that I could think anything of it.”

“If you were dating someone, would you feel like that too?” The staff once more interjected with a question.

You hummed. “I think…..probably. Suguru and I dated for a long time. And I was loved in ways that people can never even fathom. Only he has been able to do that.”

Suguru looked at you for a moment, as though he saw the universe in your eyes. He felt the heat pierce his cheek. “I think I need to get a drink on that.”

“Go for it.” You say, blushing just as equally bad. “I’ll drink with you.”

You both drink together, your eyes lowering at the intensity of his gaze. “You stare at me too much.”

"Can’t help it,” Suguru whispered, his voice a soft admission of vulnerability and lingering affection.

His eyes met yours briefly, a flicker of warmth passing between you before he glanced down at the flashcards scattered between you on the table. Each card held a potential truth, a shard of their past waiting to be explored.

“I guess it’s my turn,” he murmured, his fingers lingering over the cards as he chose one with a thoughtful deliberation.

As Suguru flipped over the card, you held your breath, uncertain of what awaited. The air in the cafe seemed charged with anticipation, the ambient sounds fading into a distant hum as he prepared to reveal the next piece of their shared story.

With a steadying breath, Suguru read aloud, his voice steady yet tinged with emotion. “Do you regret how things ended between us?”

“I do.” You responded to him, confidently. “I feel like I was an adult and I should have been able to be an adult in that situation with you. But instead, I acted like a child when I should have settled down too.”

“No, but I feel like I hold the most at fault for that.” Suguru says as he leaned forward, straightening his posture. “There was really no reason for me, even if I was stressed and exhausted, for me to have reacted to you that way.”

“You were exhausted that time too.” You smiled at him softly. “I don’t think I could hold it against you.”

“Just like I don’t hold it against you that you were exhausted waiting for me and trying for me to figure things out.” Suguru replied back. “You don’t deserve that and I’m glad you stood your ground and put yourself first when you needed to.”

“I was waiting for something like that from you.” You retorted back to him, your smile turning emotional. “I’m glad that you gave it to me.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” His face softens, the hurt in his eyes palpable. 

You shook your head. “It’s alright, we’re alright.”

“It’s your turn.”

"Did you ever cheat on me, and if you did, what was the reason?” You read the card, looking at him. “Did you ever do it?”

"I've had some pretty solid opportunities, doll." he admitted to you. “But I never thought about it.”

"Is that a no?" You pressed.

"It’s a no.” He tells you, and you could see it in his eyes, he was honest. “I had you, doll. I don’t think I needed to have anyone else.”

You laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re telling the truth.”

“How about you? Did you ever cheat on me?" Suguru asked, turning the question back on you.

"No. The fuck?" You replied, offended. He laughs. “I would never.”

“I really don’t think we had the energy to do something like that.”

You nodded, looking at the camera. “Our managers are behind the camera. When we tell you that our schedules were so packed….there wasn’t even room to pee!”

“I say that every time we have to do a reshoot because Satoru made a funny face.” Suguru added. “Gojo–kesa isn’t easy to remove everyone. Especially when you need to pee!”

“I think we got too far ahead of ourselves here.” You retorted as you drank your chaser. “That got me thirsty.”

“To everyone, we did not in fact cheat on each other.” Suguru makes an ‘x’ sign with his arms. “We broke up normally, like some couples do.”

"Let's keep going," You said with a laugh, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. 

"How long did it take you to get over us, and what did you do to help yourself get over it?" Suguru asked.

"I think I'm gonna take a drink." I said, dodging the question with a laugh. 

“It’s only been a few months, so I don’t think that’s an easy thing to answer.” He laughs with you.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one.” 

He winks at you. “I always am, doll.”

“My turn.” You say, picking up a card. "Do you think I'll be a great spouse?"

"Definitely." he said without hesitation, looking at you tenderly. "I wanted you to be mine, you know?"

"I know." You whispered, tears threatening to fall.

“Hey don’t cry now.”

“It’s the alcohol, don’t worry.”

"What was your least favorite thing I did to you in bed?" he asked.

"Well, my least favorite thing that you did to me in bed," You began, trying to keep my voice steady, "I think it's to not make love with me. You once slept on me before we could start something.”

"I can see that being your least favorite thing." Suguru snickered. 

You pointed to the camera. “Lesson 101 folks, tell your partner beforehand!”

"When did you know it was over?" He asked, taking his turn. 

"When your work and your friends become bigger than me." You said honestly. “I really didn’t know where we were and you kept telling me that it was fine and your friends told me it was fine. I think I was not understanding my place with you at the time.”

"Hmm. I didn't feel like all that became a priority. I think I was having a hard time trying to understand how to slow down from the work that was my life." He explained to you, as you nodded. "You know? And that was my fault. I feel like that community I had understood that and didn’t question it.”

“But that needed to be questioned.”

“Yeah, because it affected what we had. And that wasn’t fair to you.”

You nodded in surrender. “Yeah, that was it.”

"I'm sorry for all of it, doll." He whispered back to you. “That it hurt you.”

“It’s all in the past.” You whispered to him. 

"If you could erase every thought of me, would you?" you asked, your voice breaking.

"Fuck, no! There would be nothing to feel pleasure about at night.” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. You smacked his hand, laughing so hard. “I’m sorry, that was a crude joke.”

"No, that's okay.” You whispered back at him, laughter subsiding. “That makes me feel really good about myself, actually.”

"It should make you feel beautiful, doll. All the expensive towels at home die because of you.” he teased.

"Alright, I'm gonna forget the towel thing now." you said, rolling your eyes as you tried not to laugh. "Why do I keep getting these cards? I dare you to take a body shot off me, or you have to take two shots."

"Was it two shots?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was two shots for you, Sugu." you confirmed.

“Okay, I’ll take the shots.” Suguru says as he gritted his teeth, pouring whiskey on two shot glasses. “This is not a good think for me later.”

“He still has to record a song later.” You say, laughing as he puts the bottle back and starts taking a shot. “I feel like you’d do fine though. You aren’t that much of a light weight.”

“I think so, but it would be emotional in the booth.”

“Oh then, cry it out!”

"This is a good question!" Suguru said, holding up a card for his turn. "If you could do it over again, what would you change?"

"I don't think I'd change anything, for our previous relationship.” You tell him honestly. “I think it ended when it needed to.”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m not putting the door to a close yet, I don’t know what would happen.” You whispered back at him with a soft smile. “But given the chance, similar to the question, how would you make it better?”

"I would put in more time, doll." he admitted to you. “I think I’d put you as my priority and what future we have together first.”

"That would be cool.” You said softly.

"I fucked up." he sighed, looking at you softly.

"Would you do it again?" You asked, your heart in your throat. “Would you take another shot at it, Sugu?”

"You know the answer, doll." he said, avoiding my gaze. He picks up another card. "Do you still love me?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Of course." You said, your voice trembling as you smiled. Your eyes water with emotion. "I think I always will.”

“I guess I’m the love of your life, huh?”

“You know that already.” You sniff, laughing.

“That I do.”

“Are you happy with our current relationship?" You asked him, turning to him as he slowly smiles.

"Doll, are you happy with everything right now?" he countered.

“With all that’s going on in my life?” He nodded at you. “Yeah, I’m happy. Some days are bad, but you know….I’m happy. You taught me how.”

"Good.”

“Huh?”

 “Then the answer is yes." Suguru smiles at you, with that same smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. “I’m happy.”

"Really?” You were taken aback, smiling as your face wells in your tears. “I don’t know what to say, Sugu.”

"You don’t have to say anything.” He whispers, leaning forward as he wipes your tears away. “As long as you’re happy. It’s more than enough for me to be happy too.”

"I wished that would have been enough, when we were together.” You whispered back to him. “I would have loved to hear that from you.”

"I know.” He smiles at you, pained. “I wish I could tell you more.”

"'I wanted to be with you for a long time." You admit to him, tears flowing more. He wipes them all away. “I really thought I would end up having forever with you.”

"Do you think your past break up has had closure, you two?" the staff’s voice asked, cutting through the emotional moment.

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be closure between the two of us.” You admit to them, almost as though it was a fact. “He’s my person, you know? I think the fact that we’re not together, it just…it's hard to know how there could be anything, but pining.”

“How about you, Suguru?”

"I think about them often and it hurts knowing that we're not going to have any closure.” He whispers as he too starts feeling his eyes sting with tears. He takes your hand into his and you squeeze back.

“You know, when the future changes everything so fast. And I just don’t know what to do, because they’ll always be my muse. And I’ll think about all these years, wondering whatever happened to the love of my life.”

He wipes his tears. “Fuck, I can’t see anything with these tears.”

"Hey, you wanna wipe our tears away with alcohol?" you suggested, attempting a smile through the lingering pain that tugged at your heart.

Suguru looked at you, his eyes softening as he nodded. "Yeah, let's go." 

He pours the drinks and raises his shot glass, his faint smile touching his lips. "I don’t know what will happen in the future, but I am genuinely so lucky to have you in my life and I am so very lucky to have you as my muse. I hope you have nothing but happiness, love and joy, doll, my love.” 

"Cheers, Sugu." You said softly, lifting my glass and clinking it against his.

"Cheers, doll." Suguru echoed as he downs his.

The sound of applause from the crew and staff filling the room as you both toasted farewell to your shared past and a hello to your uncertain future. The weight of our emotions mingled with the bittersweet taste of the drink, of the complexities of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

You smiled at him as you stood up from your own chair, being handed your bouquet of sunflowers — your favorite as you were thanked by everyone.  And Suguru, being thanked by the other staff for his hard work with his own bouquet.

After the taping concluded, Suguru and you met at the lobby of the studio. The staff had already gone and left and your managers were waiting for your drivers outside. The atmosphere is still buzzing with the energy of the show and the lingering emotions from your candid revelations. You exchanged tentative smiles, a mixture of relief and uncertainty evident in your eyes.

"I'm glad we did this, doll." Suguru admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I feel... I feel like this is the happiest I've been in a long time, just being here with you."

A warmth spread through your chest at his words.. "I feel the same, Sugu.” You confessed, meeting his gaze with a sincerity that echoed through the quiet lobby. “It was…..something that relieved me.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between the two of you, until Suguru broke the silence with a gentle smile. "Well, I have a recording session to get to, doll." he said, his tone tinged with regret. "But I wanted to say... I wish you all the luck in the world with everything, you know?"

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat as you struggled to find the right words. "Thank you." You finally managed, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

As Suguru turned to leave, a thought seemed to strike him, hesitating for a moment before he looked back at you with a hopeful expression. "Hey, are you free to hang out on Friday?" he asked, his voice quietly hopeful.

You couldn't help but return his smile, the warmth spreading through you once more. "Yeah, Sugu." You replied softly, the weight of uncertainty lifting slightly.  “I am."

Relief washed over Suguru's features, a genuine happiness coloring his expression as he nodded. "Great," he said, his voice filled with quiet excitement. "I'll... I'll text you the details.”

"Is your number still the same?" You asked, a mix of nervousness and hope in your voice as Suguru paused, turning back towards you.

"Yeah, I never changed it," he whispered softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Did... you?"

"No," You replied, relief flooding through him as you returned his smile. "I didn't."

"Great," Suguru nodded, his expression almost visibly lighter with relief. "I'll just... text you."

With that, he turned again, his steps echoing softly on the polished floor as he made his way towards the exit. You watched him go, feeling a surge of gratitude and anticipation welling up within me. The weight that had pressed on your heart for so long seemed to lift, replaced by some hope.

As Suguru disappeared from view, You couldn't suppress the smile that spread across your face. The promise of a future, uncertain yet filled with hope, stretched out before you, the both of you. And as you stood there, in the quiet of the studio lobby, you knew that whatever came next, you both had taken a small but significant step to take.

Maybe one day there will be more than this.

But for now, you were grateful for this moment.

You were grateful to have another chance to joy.

[atinyslittleworld]

The Void Series

Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

Summary: After discovering her ex used her for a cruel bet, Y/N seeks comfort from her best friend, Hongjoong

Word Count: 1,206

Genre: romance, hurt, comfort, angst, friends to lovers

Warnings: MDNI 18+, emotional manipulation, heartbreak

The night outside was dark and stormy, the wind howling as if echoing the turmoil in Y/N’s heart. She sat on the floor of her bedroom, her back against the bed, her knees drawn to her chest. Her phone lay discarded beside her, the last message from her ex-boyfriend still flashing on the screen, taunting her with its cruelty.

“It was just a bet, Y/N. Two months and I won. You were nothing but a game.”

Those words played over and over in her mind, each time cutting deeper, making her feel more hollow, more broken. She had believed in him, trusted him, and in return, he had shattered her heart without a second thought. She didn’t know what to do with the pain, how to make it stop, how to fill the gaping void that had been left behind.

In her desperation, she reached for her phone and called the one person she knew she could rely on, the one person who had always been there for her—Hongjoong.

It took only two rings before his voice came through the line, concerned and alert. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“Hongjoong…” Her voice cracked, barely able to get the words out. “Can you come over? I need you…please.”

“I’m on my way,” he replied without hesitation, and the call ended.

She didn’t move from her spot on the floor, too numb to do anything but wait. Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, she heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching her door, followed by a gentle knock. When she didn’t respond, the door creaked open, and Hongjoong stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto her.

He crossed the room in a few quick strides and knelt beside her, pulling her into his arms without saying a word. The moment she felt his warmth, the tears she had been holding back broke free, and she started sobbing against his chest.

Hongjoong held her tight, his hand gently stroking her hair. “I’m here, Y/N,” he murmured softly. “I’ve got you.”

It took a while for her to calm down enough to speak, her voice barely a whisper as she told him everything—how her ex had used her, how he had placed a bet with his friends that he could get her to date him for two months, how all of it had been a lie.

Hongjoong’s arms tightened around her, his body going tense with anger, but he kept his voice calm and gentle. “He’s a coward, Y/N. He never deserved you. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re anything less than amazing.”

“But it hurts so much,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Hongjoong pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes full of concern and something deeper. He brushed a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “I know it hurts, but I’m here, and I’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his, full of desperation and longing. “I just want to feel something else, anything else. Please, Hongjoong…I need you.”

His heart ached at her words, but he nodded, understanding what she was asking. “Are you sure?” he asked softly, his voice gentle. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

She shook her head, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as if he were her lifeline. “I trust you, Joong. I need you…please, make it stop.”

With a soft sigh, Hongjoong leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, starting slow, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. But she didn’t. Instead, she melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

Hongjoong deepened the kiss, his hands roaming her body with a slow, deliberate touch, as if trying to memorize every inch of her. He wanted to make sure she knew she was safe with him, that this was about more than just filling the void—it was about giving her the comfort and care she needed.

“Y/N,” he whispered against her lips, his voice low and filled with intent. “I’m going to take my time with you. I want you to feel how much you mean to me, how much I want you.”

She shivered at his words, her body reacting to the promise in his tone. He trailed kisses down her neck, his hands gently guiding her onto the bed, positioning her beneath him. His movements were unhurried, every touch deliberate and precise, meant to build her up, to show her that she was cherished.

As he slowly undressed her, he kept whispering sweet, dirty things in her ear, his voice like velvet. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. So perfect. I’m going to make you feel so good. Just let me take care of you.”

Her breath hitched as his words sent a wave of heat coursing through her body. She had never felt this way before—so completely overwhelmed by sensation, by the tenderness in his touch, the hunger in his gaze. He moved over her with a patience that made her ache, every brush of his lips and hands against her skin setting her alight.

Hongjoong took his time exploring her, his hands caressing her with a reverence that made her feel worshipped, adored. He kissed every inch of her, his mouth lingering on the spots that made her gasp, that made her arch into him, craving more. And all the while, he kept talking to her, his voice a steady stream of praise and promise.

“I want to hear you, Y/N. Let go for me. I’m going to make you come so hard. Just let yourself feel it.”

His words combined with the relentless, teasing pace of his movements drove her to the edge quickly, her body trembling as he brought her closer and closer to release. She could barely think, barely breathe, lost in the sensations he was pulling from her.

When she finally fell over the edge, it was with a shuddering cry, her fingers digging into his shoulders as her body clenched around him. Hongjoong held her close, murmuring soothing words as she rode out the wave of pleasure, his hands never stopping their gentle caress.

As the aftershocks faded, Y/N found herself wrapped in his arms, her body relaxed, her mind blissfully quiet. The pain was still there, but it was muted, overshadowed by the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence.

Hongjoong kissed her forehead, his voice soft and full of affection. “You’re safe with me, Y/N. I’m here, and I’ll always be here.”

She looked up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, but this time, they were tears of gratitude, of something deeper. “Thank you, Joong,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” he replied, his tone full of quiet determination.

And as the storm outside began to calm, so did the storm inside her. With Hongjoong by her side, she knew she could face the pain, that she could heal. The void didn’t feel so empty anymore, not when it was filled with the love and care of someone who truly cherished her.

[merlincmgirl]

Dirty Talk - Echo x FReader - NSFW

Summary: Being forced to the sidelines with your riddur for company could be worse, but you were bored! Just the sound of Echo's voice was enough to get your mind wondering. He offers to help make your thoughts a reality.

Characters: Echo

Pairing: Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,213

Warnings: PinV sex, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), dirty talk, teasing, use of derogatory language (once), bratty behaviour. If I've missed anything, please let me know.

Authour's Note: Echo deserves better, especially from the writers! My precious boy!

“We should be out there with the rest of the team, you shouldn’t have to be stuck inside babysitting me!” you grumbled, monitoring the communications between the rest of the Bad Batch.

Echo rolled his eyes, he had heard the same complaint for the 56th time already. The only reason he hadn’t said anything was because it was you, his love, ner cyare. But it was wearing a bit thin. “I’m not babysitting, and besides you could be spotted out there. It’s not safe for you to go wondering around markets when the governor has placed a bounty on your head” Echo reminded, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“All I did was accidently address his mistress as his wife” you pouted, crossing your arms and resting your feet on the corner of his chair.

“In front of his wife and a news reporter” Echo added, shaking his head at you. That had been a very eventful evening, resulting in your quick get away and as many apologies that Hunter and the GAR could come up with. It still hadn’t saved the governor’s marriage though.

“How was I meant to know he was having an affair? Or that woman was the planet’s primary news reporter” you huffed, glaring at the screen in front of you. Honestly, it wasn’t like you intended to cause trouble, maybe the governor shouldn’t have been cheating on his wife.

Echo pursed his lips and took a deep breath – all precursors to a lecture or rant from him. You settled even more comfortably into the flight chair, knowing you would need to do so to enjoy whatever he was gearing himself up to say.

“Well if you had read the briefing that Tech put together, mesh’la, you would have known what his wife looked like. Or realised that the woman who was standing next to him was not his mistress. She was standing behind them, why would his wife not stand beside him?” Echo lectured, eyes burning into yours as he went on. His low, grumpy voice was always something you enjoyed listening to. And when you two were alone in his bunk, it was more than enough to get you breathless. So when he started gesturing with his hand and scomp to make his point, you began to feel a bit heated.

“This is why it’s important to get all the details. It was wrong of the governor, but that doesn’t mean that we had to be the ones to expose his affair. I’ll give you that you didn’t know about the reporter, you couldn’t have known that, but next time mesh’la, perhaps listening to Tech when he tells us about a planet or government that we’re working for. I know he can go on, but it’s in your best interests, cyare” Echo ranted on, hand coming down occasionally to rub at the bare patch of skin at your ankle.

It was always so beautiful to see him so passionate about something, in this case, your inability to listen to Tech’s debriefs and noticing the little details. You didn’t mind, Echo only wanted to keep you safe and protected, he didn’t mean his words in a harsh way. You knew he would do anything to protect you. It was why you loved him so much, he took care of you in a way nobody else had before. “Are you listening to me, mesh’la?” he sighed, bringing you out of your head and back to the present.

“Of course I am! I know I should have listened more, sweetheart. I’m just glad to be here with you. Even if we are stuck on the Marauder” you smiled, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. Echo returned the smile, his hand cupping your cheek briefly as he pressed a similar kiss to your own cheek before returning back to work.

Looking out the cockpit window, you could see a variety of different buildings from where you were docked. The planet’s architecture was beautiful, buildings in soft sandy colours with rich blues and greens mixed into the stone. It reminded you of the sea almost, the colours shimmering in the sunlight, just like the water reflecting the sun’s rays.

It was beautiful, and it just made you want to explore even more. Turning to your riddur, you forced a pout onto your lips. You knew he saw you, because his shoulders tensed up as he was listening to the comm chatter that was going on between the rest of the team members of the Bad Batch.

“Couldn’t we go out just a little? We wouldn’t even have to go far from the Marauder” you suggested hopefully, reaching out to rest an imploring hand on Echo’s scomp.

“Mesh’la” he huffed warningly, tone already showcasing how much he was not enjoying your behaviour at the moment. “We’re staying on the ship. We have to be prepared in case the others need a pick up” he said firmly, raising an eyebrow at you as if daring you to keep it up.

Which really, Echo should know better, because of course you would. He had set you a challenge, and who would you be to refuse it. Especially when you were bored.

“Fine!” you grumbled, looking back out of the window and ignoring his look. Echo narrowed his eyes at your simple agreement but went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

When you were sure that Echo was busy and engrossed in his work, you began to move the foot that rested in his lap slowly back and forth, underneath the kama that he wore. Occasionally your toes would dip into the small gap between his thigh plate and codpiece. Watching him from the corner of your eye, you could see Echo’s jaw clench but he continued on with his work.

Disappointed to not get a bigger reaction, you shifted around and sighed loudly, hoping to disturb him enough to make him pay attention to you. Again nothing.

Frowning, you began to think of something else to capture his attention away from the system displayed in front of him. Finally you spotted the answer to your problem. On the side next to you was your datapad. Grabbing it, you quickly began typing loudly on the screen, drumming your nails against the casing every so often. Clicking your nails against the datapad wasn’t working and only got you a small huff of air through his nose in annoyance. Still Echo didn’t react how you wanted him to. He wasn’t even touching your feet that you had left in his lap. He never missed the chance to touch you in one way or another.

Well, if he was just going to ignore you while you sat bored in the cockpit, so be it. You would at least try and fill the quiet that had settled in between you. Selecting a video that Omega had sent you, you leaned back in your chair and turned the volume up. It was of a little akk puppy chasing after a holoball, tumbling around and falling over it’s own legs. You couldn’t help but coo at the sight.

“Love, I’m trying to work” Echo bit out through gritted teeth. His shoulders had straightened and there was an obvious twitch along his jaw that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Work then, I’m not stopping you” you shrugged, keeping your eyes focused on the screen in front of you.

Sighing heavily, you felt Echo shift beneath you, hips adjusting in the chair before he seemed to settle. Glancing up through your eyelashes at him, you noticed that his pale cheeks were getting flushed. Either in annoyance or frustration you weren’t sure, but it did make him look even cuter.

Relaxing further into your chair, you waited a few more minutes before edging the volume up every minute or so, waiting for a reaction from him. Unable to help it, you laughed loudly at another video of a tooka cat, unable to muffle the noise as you became lost in the videos.

However a hand landed on your ankle, clasping the fragile bones tightly and tugging it closer to him. You looked up, blinking at him innocently. He looked annoyed now, jaw fluttering in anger as he scowled at you.

“You’re doing this on purpose” he accused you, thumb rubbing against your ankle, the pressure was enough to make you want to close your eyes and press into his hand but you refrained.

“Doing what? It’s not my fault I’m bored and you’re not talking to me” you huffed, crossing your arms to look back at him. He raised an eyebrow and let out a little scoff.

“Oh you want my attention, is that it?” he drawled, turning around to face you with an arch of his expressive eyebrow. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel in front of him before he levelled you with a hard look. “Why are you trying to distract me?” he asked, the rough tones of annoyance filtered through his voice making your stomach churn in desire for him. You loved when his voice got all deep and rough when he was rebuking someone or feeling annoyed.

Sighing heavily, you poked your bare feet into the seam of his hip, teasing him some more. “You’re not even talking to me… I like listening to your voice” you explained, shrugging slightly to help ease the nerves that you felt after admitting this to him.

“Oh” Echo breathed, back straightening at your answer and blinking a couple of times in surprise. He obviously wasn’t expecting that answer off his cyare.

“It makes me feel warm inside, like I’m safe and protected. But also… I don’t know, you make me want to drop to my knees in front of you so that I can be your good girl. Makes me want you to read one of my racy holobooks just to hear what the love interest could sound like in those moments” you admitted, biting your lip and looking away from him. Heat raced across your face, feeling like it was blistering your cheeks at how embarrassed you felt from your words. He would probably just politely say that he was flattered but it wasn’t something he was also interested in doing with you.

“Is that right, cyare? Maybe you’ll have to pick me one of your favourites, I’m sure I could get into them” he murmured, running his thumb against the arch of your foot, pressing slightly to ease the pressure there.

“Don’t tease me!” you pouted, covering your face with your hands at his words.

“I’m not cyare, I just didn’t realise that you liked my voice so much” he soothed, hoping to ease some of your embarrassment and worry. Carefully, he placed your foot on the floor, leaving the cool metal to spread a shiver up your body at the sudden temperature. “But maybe I should have guessed, you’re always get this glazed look in your eyes when I’m talking to you. Reminds me when we’re alone in my bunk, and you’re trying to keep quiet while we have some fun” he stated, leaning closer towards you, elbow on his knees.

“Echo!” you hissed, glancing to the comms in front of him in case the others were hearing your conversation. Thankfully, it was all turned off from your end. You didn’t think your skin could run any hotter until you heard his words, your cheeks colouring even more.

“On your knees, mesh’la. If you’re feeling bored, might as well give you something to entertain yourself with” he ordered, and you felt your panties dampen even further. Getting up from the co-pilot seat, you slid in between the control panel and his chair, settling in between his splayed thighs before you knelt before him. Your mouth watered, eager to listen to more of his demands.

Echo’s breath faltered for a moment, just staring down at you between his legs. You were gorgeous! He had never thought he’d ever get to experience the love and devotion you showed him, especially not after Skako Minor. He didn’t feel deserving of you, not looking like he did, not with half of him being more machine than man. But you didn’t think that. You loved him, every part of him, both metal and flesh. And you always would gently chide and rebuke him whenever he talked badly about himself, instead praising him and kissing him until he forgot all about the fear and hate he carried with him.

“Echo?” you frowned, recognising that his mind had gone elsewhere, and not a good place. Resting your hand on his, fingers twisted together you guided him back to the present moment. “Everything okay?” you asked worriedly.

The ARC trooper smiled softly, squeezing your fingers in his hand and nodded. “Just thinking about how perfect you are, cyare” he assured, scomp brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You turned and pressed a chaste kiss to his scomp before smiling up at him. His thighs tensed around you and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “I think you promised to entertain me, Corporal” you reminded him, dragging your hands down his thighs under his kama.

“That’s right, I did” he chuckled warmly, hands coming up to deftly unclip the codpiece and dropping it to the side with a small clang. Groaning at the relief of pressure, he deftly unfastened the compression suit underneath and freed his cock. It was already half hard, your words from earlier enough to chub him up. He reached down and gave himself a few pumps as you looked up at him, mouth watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. Of tasting him on your tongue.

“God, look at how eager you are. Bet if I felt you down there, you’d be soaked through” he rumbled, voice deep and rough as arousal thickened his words. Your thighs clench together, proving just how right he was. “Open up, mesh’la” he ordered, running his thumb across your bottom lip before dragging it open even more.

You helped guide him in, hands wrapping around the bottom of his shaft to keep him steady. However instead of pushing in all the way just like you expected him to. He keeps your mouth open, drool beginning to collect in the corners and leak down your chin. His cock was a warm, heavy weight against your tongue, and you couldn’t help but rub it briefly around his crown.

Echo let out a loud groan of your name, eyes sliding shut at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth surrounding him. It was enough to have him force his scomp arm to rest on the arm of the chair, not wanting to hurt you by trying to pull you closer or use too much force on your neck.

“Kriff cyare, you look gorgeous like this. Just keeping my cock in your mouth, those beautiful eyes focused on me. Such a good girl” he moaned, hand coming up to rest on the back of your head. When you tapped the metal plates of his thigh – your signal for him to carry on – he groaned and began sliding his length further into your open mouth, careful to not go too fast. Not yet anyway.

When the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, you took a deep steadying breath in through your nose, feeling him weighing heavily in your mouth. Running your tongue along the underside of his cock, you tried to take him even further, wanting to gag on him. However, the hand on the back of your neck suddenly reached to tangle into your hair and pulled you away slightly. You whined around his length, looking up into his lust filled eyes with your own.

“Force, your mouth, cyare. So eager to be filled with my cock, is that it? Couldn’t focus on our mission because you were so desperate to get filled by my cock” he groaned, unable to look away as your eyes watered from holding him in your mouth.

You could feel heat pool and slick leak out of your cunt, drenching your panties in your juices at his words and actions. Just the feel of his length against your tongue and his pre-cum dropping onto you had your hips rocking forward, wishing you could reach down and offer yourself some relief. But you knew that if Echo caught you, he wouldn’t be happy. No, he wanted you to remember that you shouldn’t be trying to distract him while you were both supposed to be working.

“Sucking my cock really gets you off, huh? Go on love, I can see how much you need it.”

Blinking in surprise, you felt Echo’s leg move in between your spread thighs, offering his boot up to you. Was he serious? Did he want you to hump his leg while you sucked his cock? The thought did send heat shooting down your spine at the thought, but it would highlight just how much you were needy for him, and for some friction against your tingly clit. Seeing his encouraging nod, you settled yourself against his boot before finally rolling your hip, searching for pleasure.

After the first roll of your hips against the hard, shiny plastoid of his boots, you couldn’t restrain the moan that escaped your mouth, muffled by Echo’s cock. It had you reaching out to his calves, holding them as sparks of your arousal flittered to your core, tightening the knot of arousal even further. Echo, just moaned your name, feeling the vibration echo around his length as he pulled back before sliding back in swiftly.

“I remember my vods being desperate for you to look at them. If they could see you now, drooling on my cock, begging for relief as you hump my boot. They’d be so excited to see what a slut you are, but only for me. Right cyare? Only I can make you feel like this” he murmured, hips rolling against your face. You tried to get out a ‘yes Echo’ but it all came out in a garbled mess around his cock. “Oh, that’s it! My perfect girl” Echo moaned, feeling the vibration around his length.

The sounds he was letting out was almost too much and you ground heavily against his boot, eager for something to relieve the pressure that was building in your cunt. If he continued fucking your face, and you the rolling of your hips against the slight arch of his boot, then it wouldn’t be long before you both cummed from this alone.

The gurgles and spluttering noises as he pushed into your throat had you clenching around nothing, and you reached a hand up to hold his scomp, wanting to be touching him more, even with his cock forcing itself down your throat.

“Fuck! Stop, stop mesh’la!” he cursed, pulling out and holding your head away from him. Your ARC trooper panted heavily, breath coming out in short sharp jabs as he held you away from his sensitive length. You grumbled, wanting to taste more of his salty, unique taste. “I don’t want to cum down your throat” he murmured, shaking his head.

After a few seconds of you both calming yourselves down and taking in a few deep breaths; Echo reached under your arms and pulled you up to your feet. You let out a little squeal in surprise before he was up on his feet too, turning you both around until he was guiding you to sit in the chair he had just been occupying.

“There we go cyare. Need to open you up before I take you” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as you nodded your consent. God you wanted him to curl his long fingers inside of you and prepare you for him.

Echo gripped your hips, tugging you down until your ass was near the edge of the seat. Hooking his fingers into your leggings and panties, he dragged them over your ass and down your thighs, throwing them somewhere behind him. He helped pull your legs up as well, landing a kiss on each knee and grazing his teeth along them before looking at you, love, awe and lust all rolled into his beautiful whiskey coloured eyes.

“Spread your legs, mesh’la. That’s it… wider… wider mesh’la” he breathed, biting his lip as you hooked your legs up on the arm rests. He sunk to his knees on the floor in between then, his warm breath caressing your sensitive mound.

However, he didn’t touch you, much to your building frustration, preferring to look at you and take in your musky, heated scent and the clenching of your entrance as you were spread out for him. Like a beautiful feast he couldn’t wait to enjoy.

“Fuck, Echo please!” you whined, voice coming out more breathlessly than you hoped. Closing your eyes, you clenched your hands around your thighs. Both as to keep them spread for him, and because you needed at least a brief touch to remind yourself that you weren’t going crazy, waiting for him to touch you, to just do something.

“You’re gorgeous. Such a needy, little thing for me, aren’t you? I haven’t touched you yet and you’re already begging for me” Echo groaned, not taking his eyes away from your dripping slit. He wanted to run his fingers through your soaking wet folds, spread your lips and drink your juices straight from the source. The sounds you were letting out was making his hard as durasteel cock even harder, as you tried to encourage him to move.

Noticing the rolling of your hips upwards towards his face, he chuckled, gathered your slick on two of his fingers before pushing them into your quivering entrance.

The sound you let out at finally being filled and not teased was music to Echo’s ears. Your hot, tight walls pulsed around him, eager to pull his fingers even deeper into your core. He could feel just how wet you were, already leaking into the palm of his hand as he withdrew them before thrusting them back in, curling slightly to search for that sweet spot.

When he had it, you reached down to grip onto his pauldron, fingers curled tight around the smooth plastoid as you let out a cry of his name. Although you loved his voice, he was just as good with his hand and he could pull orgasm after orgasm from you with little more than his fingers.

“That’s it, mesh’la, you feel fucking fantastic surrounding my fingers, it feels like you never want to let them go. I’d be a happy man if I could stay here between your legs for the rest of my life” he growled, before nipping and sucking at the inside of your thigh to leave a mark.

Wasting no time, he pressed his scomp against your clit, activating a gentle vibration that had you clenching even tighter around him, hands coming up to the back of his head to push him closer to the apex of your thighs.

“FUCK! ECHO!” you cried out, body tightening as he used his scomp to push you over the edge, still keeping up his delicious thrust of his fingers inside of you.

“That’s it mesh’la, doing so good” he moaned, pressing his lips to your slit and catching your release on his tongue, swirling against your entrance to catch as much as possible. “Taste so good, mesh’la, can’t get enough of you” he grunted, his words pressed right into your folds, the gentle vibration combining with his scomp to keep you riding your high longer than you normally would.

When he pulled away, you practically sagged into the seat, completely boneless after Echo had knocked every thought out of your head apart from his name. He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, pressing gentle kisses along your smooth and soft skin as he waited for you to catch your breath.

“You okay?” he checked in, noticing the small smile on your face that was aimed at him.

“Yeah… yeah ‘m feeling good” you murmured, trailing your fingers along his handsome face and down his neck. He closed his eyes, shivering slightly at the tender caress.

“Think you can go for more?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Kriff yes! Want to hear how you’re going to fuck me, trooper” you grinned, sending him a wink.

Echo smirked, eyes blazing with heat and want as he pinched your hip, enjoying the little squeal of surprise and happiness that you let out. “It’s Corporal to you! And why tell you when I can show you instead?” he grinned, pulling you up with a firm grip and spinning you around so that your back was pressed against his chest.

You shivered as the coolness of his armour was held to you, the temperature always a bit cooler than normal on the Marauder since your escape from the Empire. After all, you had to save fuel as much as possible, meaning the heating was the first thing to be sacrificed. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm before pressing a number of kisses to the back of your neck, sucking marks along the way as he dragged your shirt up with his scomp.

“Going to bend you over this chair and fuck you, mesh’la. Right where my brothers and I sit. Every time I’ll sit here I’ll remember this. How eager you were for me to fill your needy hole up. Every time I’ll send a comm or answer one, I’ll think about how much you love my voice. How wet it makes you” he murmured, fingers coming to brush against your folds.

You whimpered, his words sinking in as you realised just how open you were in the cockpit. Anybody could look up and see you through the visor at the front of the ship. Hell, Hunter would know exactly what you’ve been doing in here just as soon as he stepped on the ship, maybe before. The thought that this chair, this room would forever be remembered because you couldn’t help but feel turned on by Echo’s voice and the way he lectured you. It had you sinking over the chair, hands on the arm rest as your head hung between your shoulders.

“Oh, do you like that thought, mesh’la? That I won’t ever be able to forget what we’re doing whenever I’m in here. Going to get me hard just as soon as I walk in here” he chuckled, sliding his hand and scomp to your waist to pull your ass closer into his hips. He moaned at the feel of your ass cheeks brushing against his straining erection. “Ready?” he asked, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

“Please Echo!” you groaned, gritting your teeth and pushing back into him even more.

“Alright, alright” he chuckled, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. With a final nod of consent from you, he slid home into your tight cunt. Your combined visceral moans echoed along the walls of the cockpit as Echo didn’t stop until he was fully inside of you.

You gritted your teeth, the feel of his length inside you was almost too much. It felt like his cock was carving a way into you, moulding your inner walls around him until he fit perfectly into you. Your hands gripped onto the arm rests, eyes fluttering as you became used to the sensation of feeling so filled by him.

“Fuck Echo, you feel so good. Feel amazing baby” you praised, reaching a hand behind you to catch one of his hips, squeezing tightly as you felt his hips quiver at your words and touch.

“How are you this tight? We were together last night” he breathed, shaking his head as he felt you clench and pulse around him. Inside of his head he was reciting the regulation manual of the command structure if there was no Jedi Commander. It wasn’t thrilling but it ensured that he wouldn’t end this sooner than he wanted.

“Come on, please Corporal” you breathed, throwing your hips back.

It had Echo flittering his jaw as he snapped his hips into yours, burying his length into your warmth over and over again until the sounds of both of your soft grunts and moans, and the wet squelching of your cunt was all that could be heard in the cockpit of the Marauder.

He wrapped his metal arm around your waist, pulling you even tighter to him and fucking himself as deep as he could go into you, angling his hips to find that spot that had you seeing stars. When he found it, you growled out, fists clenching and digging into the soft leather of the chair.

“Kriff, you’re so good! Fucking perfect cunt, can feel how much you want me. How much you need this pretty pussy to be filled by me” he growled into your shoulder, eyes closed tight as he focused on fucking you hard and deep into the pilot’s seat.

“Yes, yes, I need you! Please Echo” you cried, throwing your head back and reaching up a hand to cup the back of his neck. The shift in position had his cock pounding into the spongy part of your walls that had ecstasy burning through you. You groaned, tightening around him as much as you could as you felt your release approaching.

“My good girl, my good fucking girl” he grunted, hand sliding from your waist to under your shirt, pinching at your nipple and twisting it. The sharp shooting of pain and pleasure mixed together and you felt yourself gush around him as you was thrown over the edge. Echo gasped out your name, hips stuttering a few more times before he shot his load inside of you, pace faltering as he all but collapsed over you.

“Hmm, Echo, heavy” you complained, feeling the weight of him bearing down on you from your bent position over the chair.

“Sorry, cyare” he breathed, turning you gently both around until he could collapse in his seat, pulling you with him into his lap.

You spent the next few minutes catching your breath and soaking in each other’s affection and tender touches. Both of you didn’t want to move, happy to just be in this moment with your riddur. You ghosted your fingers up and down his arm, smile plastered on your face at how boneless and loved you felt. Echo smiled into your neck from where he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Such a contrast to the dirty words he was using with you before.

Echo hummed against your neck, pressing a light kiss to the spot under your ear before pulling away. He caught your chin, guiding your face to meet his own. His eyes danced in amusement and exhaustion as they met yours.

“Well cyare, entertained enough?” he grinned playfully at you.

You snorted in reply, sinking back into him and closing your eyes. “For now” you teased him, feeling a rumble in his chest at your answer.

[ohmyamor]

6:47pm

You stare with your mouth open wide at the small device clutched in your hands. 

Fingers twitching, you bring the lit-up screen concerningly close to your face, squinting your eyes at the picture at on your phone. 

“Is his hair...purple?” you whisper out loud. 

Not that there was anyone else in the room with you, but still. You weren’t sure if you could believe your eyes.

The sudden ringing sound signaling you were receiving an incoming call startled you out of your trance. Taking a glance at the caller id, you can’t help but snort. 

Speak of the fucking devil. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi sweetheart,” Jongho’s voice rang out through your speaker. 

“You don’t deserve to call me that.” 

You listened as Jongho sputtered, letting out an incomprehensible string of words. 

“Huh?”

“You don’t deserve to call me ‘sweetheart’ after what you did,” you repeated. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something to upset you? Or bother you? I know I haven’t been able to stop by, but you know how it gets when promotions start. I promise you baby, as soon as I get the chance I’ll rush over to your place and we can spend as much time as you want together. I’ll event take you to that cafe you’ve been wanting to try,” Jongho rambles through the line.

A small smile worms its way onto your face. You almost start to feel a little bad about scaring him like that, but another glance at the picture on your phone has you feeling betrayed all over again. 

“Honey? Are you there?” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going to dye your hair purple,” you pout. 

“I-what?”

“And I had to find out through pictures of your stage today. Seriously, I can’t believe you would do this to me jjong.” 

A laugh of disbelief rings through your speaker. 

“Is that what this is about? You’re pouty because I didn’t show you my hair color?” 

As soon as he finishes speaking, Jongho begins to let out loud laughs that echo throughout your room. 

“Don’t laugh at me! This is serious!” you argue. “I thought I was the love of your life! But you didn’t even tell me you were finally going purple. And when did you even get a chance to do that? We literally video chatted last night and you were at the dorms with the guys.” 

More laughs come from Jongho’s end. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise, especially because I know how much you’ve wanted me to do a fun color with my hair. And for your information, I had to wake up super early today to get it done.” 

You sigh and click your tongue. 

“Just because you look hot with purple hair doesn’t mean you’re off the hook Choi.” 

Jongho hums. 

“I’m willing to deal with the consequences.” He’s quiet for a moment before speaking again. “So, you think I look hot?”

A smile makes it’s way onto your face and you can’t help but roll your eyes. 

“You’re always hot, but something about the purple...,” you trail off. “Very nice.” 

Jongho lets out a small giggle and you can’t stop the fuzzy feeling that blossoms in your chest hearing him laugh. 

“Well I’m glad you approve. And I can’t wait to show it to you in person. I miss you baby,” Jongho’s voice becomes softer towards the end of his sentence. 

“I miss you too, but you and the guys are doing absolutely amazing this comeback. Seriously, you guys always do freaking amazing, but this comeback you guys are really glowing, so continue to go out there and make me and atiny’s proud,” you cheer him on. 

Although you can’t see him, you know Jongho well enough to imagine the smile that most likely sits on his face from your words. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” 

Distantly, you can hear what sounds like Hongjoong’s voice calling for the boys. 

“I have to go now, but I promise to text you when I get back to the dorms. I love you,” Jongho says. 

“I love you too, jjong. Get some rest.” 

After hanging up the phone, you spend a few more minutes scrolling through Twitter and saving some of your favorite pictures of Jongho. You’re about to get up and begin getting changed when an idea strikes you. 

You send one last text to your boyfriend before going to the bathroom. 

Should I dye my hair purple too? We can match ;)

When you come back, Jongho’s reply makes you laugh. 

Don’t mess with my heart like that baby. 

But if you do, please give me a warning. 

                                         ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

RIBOS HOW ARE WE DOING???

bc im not okay lol I woke up to those pictures and immediately spammed my friends. 

i think he’s genuinely trying to kill me but its okay 

[arthurflecksgirl]

Conversations with Arthur

Arthur comforting reader after watching Folie a deux

This is for all of you who love him

Word count: 2000

Warnings : None really. Slight mention of a panic attack

Genre : Comfort

Your eyes avoided the screen quite some time before credits started rolling. Arthurs comforting voice echoed from the speakers of the theatre, singing promising words about the future. How could they? How dare they to play his voice in a hopeful tune after what you just saw? You kept your red face, swollen from crying so hard buried inside your shaking hands. You didnt wanted to catch any attention from the people who still remained in their seats. They must think you're crazy. And at the same same time you didn’t care anymore.

You didnˋt care about the fact that your crying must have been louder than Arthurs soft voice singing. You didnˋt care about anything anymore. The one thing you cared about most had just been taken away from you. That one person who helped you making it through the past 5 years of your life.  Arthur Fleck. He who understood you the way you understood him. He who comforted you during your worst days and ugliest breakdowns. Your love. Your light.

They dared to blow out his candle which was the only fllicker left inside of you. They took him away, making it seem like nothing but a bad punchline. He who deserved so much better. Who still belived in love after all he had been through. Arthur, the man who finally came to terms with who he is. Was that the price he had to pay for being his sweet self? Was that the price you had to pay for loving a man who needed love more than anything in his life?

„….but how can it  recognize you, if you donˋt step ot into the light, the light…“

It was the first time ever his voice couldnˋt make you feel better. Even though it sounded like a distance whisper from heaven itself. True love will find you in the end.

He is your true love. And you long to be his. Whatˋs left to do now? Left to cling onto? Arthur….please stop singing. I love you so much. I need you here. I need you here  physically. I need your tiney body in my arms. I need to feel that you are real. Donˋt sing unless your mouth is forming these words right beneath my ear. Donˋt sing unless you see in how much pain I am griefing you. Donˋt sing unless I feel your breath on my cheek.

You still heard his voice after the curtain had closed. It was time to stand up and leave the cinema minutes ago but you physically couldnt . Moving seemed impossible, opening your eyes seemed like a violent act. The speakers didnt play any music anymore but you still heard him. „Donˋt be sad I know you will….but donˋt give up until...“

It was getting harder and harder to breathe. The dizziness coming over you was overwhelming. A panick attack was setting in. You wanted to leave this place but…No you didnt. You had to stay. There must be another scene after all. Another ending. This is nothing but a bad joke. The red curtain will open and the screen will reveal the real ending of the movie. It has to. You cannot go home like that and accept what you just saw. This man deserved to live. To live a better life. To reveive support. To be seen and loved.

Arthur!

Please stay with me. I

I know you are still alive. Credits rolled way too quickly…..They tricked us real bad, didnt they? A cliffhanger…itˋs just….a deusion….the title of the movie is Folie a deux after all.

Amd then you blacked out .

 

A bright light lulling you in as you opened your eyes. The curtains of the cinema changed their colors to blue, red orange and yellow. The curtains of the Murray Franklin show. The colors Arthur imagined the black umbrellas to be.

The room was empty except for you and…..

Arthur????

You must have hallucinated. Arthur was sitting on the seat beside you. A concerned look on his face, as he tendlerly layed his hand on your knee „Y/N“ he whispered. „Donˋt be sad….I donˋt want you to be sad“.

You shifted within your seat to face him as you tried to catch your breath. „Thats….thatˋs not….posssible…“

Arthur pulled out a handkerchief  with the words „Worldˋs best comedian“ stitched on it. For a quick moment you felt almost happy about that fact that someone must have given it to him , which means that he is appreciated by someone who thinks heˋs funny. You always thought that he was funny in a adorable and unique kinda way. If only you could make him happy by laughing about his jokes.

You took the handkerchief and felt bad about wiping your face and cleaning your nose with it. It must be so precious to him.

„Arthur….I ….“

It was impossible to form words. Impossible to say anything. Your only instinct left was to take him into your arms. To feel if he was real. If he was a body made of flesh and bones. If he had physical  form that would have a weight to it. You wanted him to exist so baldy.. Somehow you always knew that he did.

You looked into his eyes for the very first time and not into a screen. It was him and every single line on his face was him. It was his curls stroking your cheek softly when you finally out your arms around his fragile body. It was his arms crossing behind your shoulders, letting you sink deeper into his embrace.

Arthur

It was Arthur

And he was so much realer than he was on screen.

You never wanted to let him go. You wanted this to be your final moment. Let the curtains close here. Let the curtains of your own story close right at this moment. You didnˋt need any moment to follow after this. Let his arms around you be the final act.

It was uncertain who loosened the embrace fist but it didnˋt felt like it loosened. It only did so you could look into each others eyes.

He looked at you in silence. Arthur never was a man of many words. The expression of his face spoke volumes. He felt your pain. He empathized. You were the same.

„Arthur….how is that even possible? Am I hallucinating?“

Arthur pulled out a cigarette, lit it and too a deep drag. His left hand searching for your own hand, covering it like a protective shield. „What does it matter?“ he shrugged slightly „I am with you anyways….I always was.“

Your teary eyes observed his beautiful sillhouette. Arhur was so much stronger than it seemed. You could have sworn that a bright aura surrownding his figure. Almost like a protective shield.

He was save. Arthur was save.

„I always feel your presence, Arthur…“

He blew out some smoke, making  intense eye contact „Thatˋs because Iˋm with you“

„Really? I thought I was just….daydreaming. You know…wishful thinking“

„Well….“ Arthur chuckled „Thatˋs how itˋs always starting, isnˋt it?“

He closed his eyes as he leaned back into the seat „As some kind of dream I mean“

You coudnˋt take your eyes off him. Arthur was even more handsome in person. From his soft curls, to his strong eyebrows, the shape of his nose, the scar on his upper lip….

Your hand reached out to touch the fabric of his brown cardigan, to see if it felt real.

Arthur finished his cigarette ,laughing as you pulled your hand away out of nervousness. You spent the last five years loving this man and yet you werenˋt sure if it was allowed to touch him as you wanted to.

„Itˋs okay Y/N….you can touch me. Come here!“

He shifted in his seat, took your hand and put it on his face . Hs skin was soft, freshly shaved. „See? Iˋm real.“

He grinned. „Funy isnˋt it? I never thought I could say this with such confidence. I am real. I never felt real for most of my life“ . Arthurs voice dropped for a second „Sometimes I felt like other people made me up in ther minds and I am just a fool playing out their fantasies like….“

„Like what Arthur?“ you caressed his shoulder softly.

„Like in this movie…“

You immediately felt a lump in your throat as he mentioned it. Your mind went back to what you just saw. Arthur on the ground.

„But you know what?“ he sighed „They make movies about me all the time. I mean. There is a movie within the movie.“

He put his hand on your hand which still remained on his shoulder „There was a cartoon even. Do you think it was funny?“

You didnˋt knew what to say. The last thing you wanted to talk about was the movie you just saw. All you wanted to concentrate on was that Arthur was sitting right beside you and he seemed pretty much alive.

„Um…nevermind. Just sing a song with me okay? It will make you feel better….“

All of the sudden he twitched. His hand touching his stomach.

„Arthur, are you okay?“

„Yeah…“

„Are you sure?“

You lifted his cardigan to check. You felt that he was more than okay with that.

His skin was unharmed. Not only that but a bright, green light was coming from his belly.

„Itˋs just an echo from different timelines…. Nothing the healing light of archangel Raphael canˋt fix“ he smiled. „You know….they are with you, Just like I am. The angels I mean….and let me tell you. They know some good jokes. Sometimes they even laugh at my dark humor but donˋt tell anyone“.

You placed your hand underneath his belly button.

„The angels healed you?“

Arthur chuckled in a shy way „And your love did“

He reached out to touch your face but wasnˋt confident enough to do so.

„Itˋs okay ,Arthur…..you can touch me. Itˋs more than okay. In my dreams we touch each other all the time“ you felt yourself blushing.

Arthurs fingers traveled over your face as if he was reading braille.

„Itˋs good to know that you are real,too“ he said almost to himself.

„I always was…but I think I became more real after loving you,Arthur“

„So letˋs make each other real, huh?“ he mumbled.

„You are not just imaginary, like they said in court….“ He added. „Not just a fantasy in my diary…“

 

It was only now that you realized that you still had Arthurs handkerchief.

„Oh, I am sorry I still have your…“

„You can keep it.“

„No…..Arthur….that must have been a personal gift from someone special….WORLDS BEST COMEDIAN…itˋs yours!“

He took it, only to put it in your pocket „You are right. It really is from someone special. I never forget the day when you gifted it to me for my birthday. Remember, darling? When we first found out that my birthday was really my birthday? That was kinda special….“

He stood up from his seat, one hand rubbing his tummy. Everything was fine.

„What….what do you mean, Arthur? I gifted it to you?“

The worldˋs best comedian bend forward to give you a tight hug „You know there is a timline where we met decades ago and movies are made about our love and they all have a happy ending. This is where I am going now.“

He kissed your cheek and you felt like youˋve been marked with bliss.

„Iˋll meet you there, darling“ his voice echoed through the cinema room as the light around him grew bigger.

„Besides…I totally forgot to sing you the song….“

You felt a smile crossing your face. No movie could take that away from you. No movie could take him away from you.

„I love you, Arthur“ you whispered.

Arthur faded into bright light as he smiled back at you and sang

 

„Whippoorwills call, eveninˋ is nigh

Hurry to my, blue heaven

Turn to the right, thereˋs a little white light

Will lead you to my, blue heaven

Youˋll see a smiling face, fireplace, a cosy room

Little nest that nestle where the roses bloom

Just honey and me, and the baby makes three

Weˋre so happy in my, blue heaven“

[wonfilms]

0.8k ;  pairing : l. hs x gn! reader ,  gen : fluff ,  warnings : slight angst? just a lot of sweetness, long distance relationship trope - ish

heeseung likes the quiet, he’s always liked the quiet. after all spending time alone is not the same as being lonely, it’s nice to have some time to yourself...  but ever since he’s been on tour he’s started to hate it.  the stillness of the hotel room at night doesn’t feel nearly as comfortable as it does when he’s at home in bed with you.

even though they are the same silence, this room feels lonely, whereas when he’s in bed with you as you sleep he’s merely just alone . 

he knows it’s silly.  of course it’s going to be more lonely without you by his side at night, but that’s when he realises how much he values you. even just your presence sooths him in a way that he’s only come to treasure when you’re not around. 

it leaves him feeling a dull kind of empty, just like the cold space in the bed next to him.  you’re just a call away, but he doesn’t want to wake you up, not if it’s something as unimportant as this. 

but his hands start to dial your number as if on impulse, he waits letting the shrill ring of the phone echo through the hotel room. 

he hears your voice through the reciever and he feels better, almost in an instant. “heeseung?? you okay?”. you sound tired and now he feels guilty. “missed you” he’s surprised at how weak his words came out. “oh babe? i miss you too yeah? are you sure you’re alright-” he can hear you start to panic through the phone and he can’t help himself from laughing a little. 

“why are you laughing??” 

“you’re so cute, i’m alright i promise just wanted to say goodnight one more time“ he finds himself smiling

“you’re seriously stupid heeseung , good night okay, once you come home i’m gonna kiss you so hard ?“ you laughed through the phone. he could picture you now, you’re probably wearing those old blue pajamas that you refuse to throw out, your hair messy with sleep, you look, oh so,  cute even in his imagination. 

“stay on line with me...” he whispers “please”

he could almost envision the smirk on your face, “anything for you “  

though you’re only with him through a screen, just knowing that you’re still there  across the phone line put him at ease. he felt himself feel much sleepier than he has all tour. “love you” you whisper, and when you don’t hear anything back you could gather he was finally asleep getting the rest he deserves.. 

a/n : goodnight he is so cute. 

[imogenkol]

With each new leak and crumb of information we get about season 2 of Andor, the more I become equal parts excited and terrified for Bix.

It looks like they might be going in a darker direction for her, which makes sense given the horrifying torture she endured and the losses she suffered. Bix must feel so lost in the year before the season opens, plus she has a lot of anger and needs to put it somewhere.

“If I’m giving up everything… I wanna win.”

Oof. That line has been echoing in my head for the past day or so. Bix is all in. While I do think she’s a rebel at heart, I believe that “the cause” is secondary to her. She’s fighting for her now — for her home and her community, a place she longs to return to, but deep down knows it will never be the same, not for her at least… Bix is fighting for revenge. I believe that will be her purpose and driving force this season.

My deepest fear for her is becoming an accessory to Cassian. Becoming a prop for his losses and pain. I’ve said it before, but I really don’t think a rekindled romance between the two of them would serve either of their stories in any way.

Bix needs to find her sense of self again, who she is apart from Cassian. Apart from Ferrix, even. I want her to journey inwards to the darkest depths of her soul — to give in to the urges that scare her. I want her to frighten those around her, not because they’re afraid for her, but because they’re afraid of her. No one is sure what she’s willing to do anymore. She’s not even sure. And then I want her to come out of the other side of that and be a steadfast force of nature.

It would not serve her to move backwards. To accept Cassian as a partner again after the numerous times he has disappointed her, broken her trust, broken her heart. I feel like she’s learned her lesson too many times, especially so after the corpo incident. I do want to see them rebuild that trust and affection they have for each other, but with an unspoken understanding that they will never be romantic again.

The worst thing I feel like they could do to Bix is have her die for Cassian. That would just take so much away from her story. She has already suffered so much for him that to have her die as a means to further his own journey would really just be so disrespectful to such an interesting character.

Cassian as well I feel would not benefit from a rekindled romance. He is still finding his way in the galaxy. Diego Luna even said that Cassian starts the season still conflicted. Once his commitment to the cause is cemented, there won’t be much left of himself to give and Bix deserves so much more than that. It would be disappointing and unnecessary to see a weak excuse for a relationship between them where neither is able or willing to give it their all until it eventually fizzles out one final time — or until god forbid Bix dies.

Vel and Cinta already exist to explore that type of dynamic, it would feel a little redundant and possibly even take away from the complexities of their relationship (that we’ve barely scratched the surface of) if there were two similar dynamics happening parallel to each other on screen.

I would love to see Bix and Cassian be close again. There’s a lot of potential to create a unique and fascinating dynamic between them considering all their history, but it would be so refreshing to see a more familial type of bond form as opposed to a romantic one, and to see how these characters navigate that new dynamic.

Also while Bix’s likely death would and should affect Cassian, I truly hope that if she does go out… she goes out fighting for her own cause.

[quasonn]

The year is 2026, Drake and Kendrick Lamar are sitting on a park bench in the early hours of morning. The unlikely pair sat without saying a word before Drake broke the silence. Drake: When did you know? Kendrick: I have always known. Drake: All this time, you never said a word, Why? Kendrick: I remember you telling me you were conflicted, and when you started misusing your influence, I knew something was wrong. Drake: that still makes no sense, it wasn't like I was the only artist to act out. Kendrick: You are Canadian Drake, of course, I knew. Drake finds his hands shaking and his voice quivering Drake: I thought I was done for, that the only way out was death. I was so afraid. Nobody understood me but then I heard the jeers and the laughter and in all of it was your voice that pulled me out. Adonis my son, I thought I would never see him anymore and Crodie...oh god Crodie!! Kendrick: Crodie's safe with me in Compton, No one can touch him there, so is Adonis and your daughter, but you will have to fight your place back in their lives. Drake: A daughter? so what you said, those were real? Kendrick: Yeah she was born after you went to sleep. Kendrick: The diss tracks were the only way to wake you up, I had to destroy you to save you. Drake looks at Kendrick he doesn't say a word for a minute. Drake: After I lost my reputation, I felt the grip they held around me loosen, and that's when I heard it, your voice, echoing, it took me a while to completely gain control of my body but it was your voice that led me. Kendrick: I am glad you are okay. *gets up to leave* Drake: Will I see you again? Kendrick: Go see your children Drake, make sure to give them the love they deserve. Drake: What will you do? Kendrick smiles and walks away as he mumbles his lines from King Kunta, " I got a bone to pick, I got a few to break, I got a whole city to wake" He pulls his hood up, wears his shades, and walks off mixed into the crowd of people as the morning sun ascends further into the sky. . . . A man in a dark robe looks at Drake via a screen, he opens his drawer and pulls out an oddly shaped triangular box with red buttons, he presses the buttons and whispers in a deep and raspy broken voice, "We have lost another one...........It was Kungfu Kenny" --CUTS TO BLACK--

[theflyingfeeling]

hello if you thought that this stupid band going on a stupid devastating world-crushing well-deserved hiatus would stop me from writing the terrible tragic miserable galaxy-brain Olli/Allu infidelity AU... lol think again <3

this one is sort of an independent sequel to this ficlet and takes place after The Decision™ 🖤

~

When Aleksi got back from the Hilltop Forest cottage, the first thing he did was get out his drum set. 

It was dusty from having been untouched for months (or for years? Aleksi wasn’t sure anymore) and he suffered through multiple coughing fits while assembling it, but at last everything was in place. He spent another moment giving the cymbals a final polishing, a hint of a grin on his lips as he imagined Tommi’s voice scolding him for handling them so carelessly, then he sat on the stool that squeaked from the first touch since– yes, Aleksi still couldn’t remember since when exactly. Come to think of it, now that he was seated, alone in his studio, he tried and failed recalling the last time he had had time to just sit. 

So he sat. He sat, until voices started echoing in his head. They were the voices of his bandmates, of their management team from Century Media. Of Joonas crying silently in the woodshed. Of her saying hi and how was the meeting before Aleksi had rushed to the studio to avoid having to say out loud what they had agreed on at the cottage. 

Of Olli’s whisper by his ear, ordering him to stay quiet. 

When the voices got too loud, he started playing. 

And once he had started, he played for an entire week. 

He played, until the bang of the drums muted all these voices. He played to mute the suffocating silence behind all that noise. He played until it became almost too dark to see in the studio, with the curtains drawn and the midnight sun covered by a thick veil of clouds, so he lit one of his scented candles and resumed playing. He played and played and played, from breakfast until sunset, skipping dinners and ignoring text messages from upstairs, asking him to please come to bed already, and when he stopped at last, when he could no longer hear a single thought swirling in his head, he was left in silence, his hands aching and trembling, his breathing coming in short puffs. 

Something wet was spread on his cheeks. Sweat, he decided, and dried them off with the back of his palm. 

Then he set the drumsticks aside, took out his phone and texted Olli. 

I miss you already. 

The second he had sent it, he wanted to unsend it, because fuck if it didn’t sound ridiculous and desperate – both of which he was, of course, but he didn’t need Olli to know that. 

(As if Olli didn’t already, from the way Aleksi had begged for him to let him cum the last time they had been together.)

It was too late, though, because the second after the regret had hit him, the message was marked ‘seen’. Aleksi couldn’t pretend to be surprised, because that’s what he had gotten used to when texting with Olli. Sometimes he felt as if Olli was already typing his reply or calling him when Aleksi had barely lifted his thumb off the ‘send’ button. That was why it felt odd to see Olli was viewing his message but not writing back to him or to not feel the phone in his hand vibrate from an incoming call. 

No matter how hard he stared at the screen, there seemed to be no reaction from Olli. It was such a strange feeling, one that scared him to the depths of his soul. 

Is this what it’s going to be like from then on? Him in Oulu living his idyllic northern life in his idyllic northern home with her, and me down here in my desolate studio, missing him so much that I want to scream and rip my hair off? 

Suddenly it was getting too loud again in Aleksi’s head, so he grabbed the drumsticks and was all but ready to bang his longing away, right until he’d feel numb, and not just in his hands. He never got around to it, though; if he had started playing a second earlier, he wouldn’t have heard the quiet knock on the door interrupting his intentions. 

Which was an odd thing to hear in the first place, because no one ever knocked on his door. 

Joel never knocked, because he always just sent Aleksi a text informing him he had arrived and Aleksi would find him standing awkwardly behind his studio door. Niko never knocked, as he just stormed right in the studio to play Aleksi his new song ideas, not noticing (or caring) what he was interrupting, even if it was Aleksi about to slide his hand down his pants in a delusional daydream about a mutual friend of theirs. Joonas never knocked either; Aleksi usually learnt of his arrival from upstairs where he’d be playing with Rilla before coming down to greet Aleksi. 

She never knocked, because she never came to the studio. It was the one place that was his, only his in the house, from the walls he had painted himself, to the wobbly Ikea shelves he had assembled alone at two in the morning with a great deal of swearing and maybe even tears – although he wouldn’t admit it – to the shabby couch he had gotten from his mother when she had moved houses, to the polaroids that kept him company by his computer when he worked and which could have him travel back in time and space in the blink of an eye, to memories he would be treasuring until the very end of everything. 

(All of them had Olli as the main character.) 

And, well, Rilla never knocked, because she was just a little dog with no hands, so Aleksi was baffled as to who would be behind his studio door, at almost midnight on a Tuesday. During the four steps it took him to reach the door, Aleksi’s guesses on who he’d reveal when opening it ranged from an annoyed neighbour complaining about the noise, to the studio ghost his Twitch viewers kept joking about, asking to be left back in after having sneaked out when Aleksi had gone upstairs for some coffee, and somehow all of that seemed to make much more sense than what he did find behind the door.

He had not expected to find a familiar mop of curls and a pair of sad, grey eyes staring straight into his. 

“Hey,” Olli said. 

“Huh,” Aleksi replied, which was an accurate expression of how he was feeling. 

“I’m just… here are your shorts.” Olli was handing him a bundle of black fabric. 

“Huh,” Aleksi repeated, still bewildered about the latest turn of events. He looked at the alleged shorts in Olli’s hand, then at Olli, and again at the shorts. “You… did you come from Oulu just to give me these?” 

“Uhhh. Yeah.” Olli looked almost embarrassed now, his gaze having fallen to the garment he was holding, his chin lowered closer to his chest. 

“But… We’re gonna see each other next week. You could have given them to me at Provinssi.” 

As if there was something in Olli’s eye, he blinked rapidly while reaching towards Aleksi until he took the shorts from Olli’s hand. 

“I thought you’d maybe need them before that. They’ve promised a heatwave after midsummer.” 

Aleksi felt the worn fabric. It smelled different, of an unfamiliar conditioner. He wanted the garment out of his hands, but he didn’t want to seem rude; Olli had travelled all this way, seemingly to just give Aleksi back his stupid shorts, the ones he had seen Olli pack in his backpack (by accident or on purpose, Aleksi could only guess) the morning after they had made love for the last time and had said nothing of it (out of courtesy or on some twisted, selfish whim of his mind, Aleksi wasn’t sure). 

“Well. Thanks,” he said, and tried his best to sound grateful. Perhaps, if Olli had stolen a piece of his heart and taken it to Oulu with him, it was only fair that he at least returned his shorts. 

“Well,” Olli’s eyes wandered somewhere past Aleksi, now that he no longer had anything his hands to fix his eyes on, “guess I’ll get back, then.” 

“No,” Aleksi heard himself say, way before his useless brain could follow. “Don’t go.” 

Aleksi searched for Olli’s gaze, but when he finally found it, he regretted it immediately, for Olli’s eyes had welled with tears and his bottom lip was quivering. 

“Don’t go,” Aleksi echoed himself. By then he was prepared to repeat it over and over, would have gotten on his knees if that was what it would have taken to make Olli stay, now that he was there in front of him again, for him to touch and hold if Olli only would let him. 

Like he had, so many times before. 

Even though he maybe shouldn’t have, for both their sake.

(Aleksi was terrified he might not, ever again.) 

Olli stepped inside, the tips of their shoes touching. The sorrow in Olli’s eyes was going to drown Aleksi if he kept staring into it for too long, yet he couldn’t force himself to look anywhere else except into the depths of grey and blue. 

How could he ever? Whenever he looked into Olli’s eyes, he felt loved like he had never before. He felt safe, even when the world around him was changing and scared him to the bone. 

“I miss you already too,” Olli whispered. His voice was just as full of melancholy as his eyes. “Every day. Every second.” 

That was the reply Aleksi had been left hanging without just a moment earlier. That was the reassurance Aleksi needed to toss the shorts in his hands aside and pull Olli in, their hips and chests and lips crashing together. 

The heaviness inside Aleksi, the one he had tried to suffocate, gave room to hunger and yearning, to lust and urgency as they stumbled towards the couch, tangled in each other like vines. Olli let out small, soft whines with every kiss, as if he was in pain, and perhaps he was, although Aleksi hoped it was the kind of pain he himself was experiencing: pain of not having Olli close enough even though he was right there, in his arms, skin on bare skin once their shirts had flown off; pain of wanting someone you could not have, or rather, someone you did have but could not keep. 

He could never keep Olli, not the way he wanted to, not for as long as he needed to. Keeping him forever was out of question, and it was naive to even wish for it, but would even that have been enough? Keeping him for one more night was nothing like forever, but it was more than never at all, was it not?

Maybe one more night was their forever. 

Olli’s face was sombre, with his eyebrows straight lines and his lips only just parted, when Aleksi took off the rest of his clothes, never taking his eyes off Olli who lay on his back. Their eye contact was broken when Aleksi touched his lips on Olli’s exposed stomach and Olli closed his eyes, sighing out loud his satisfaction. The sighs grew louder the closer Aleksi got to Olli’s cock, so that when he finally took it in between his lips, Olli was full-on moaning – dangerously loud, but Aleksi had no intention to silence him. Olli moaning out of pleasure was the most beautiful sound Aleksi had ever heard, and if he was the cause of it, he would always do his everything to keep Olli going. 

Olli was perfect under his touch. Olli was perfect inside his mouth. Olli was perfect in all the ways Aleksi could imagine; so perfect and gorgeous and sexy that Aleksi could have come just from sucking him off, just from making Olli feel good, which he had had done, in fact, many times before, but tonight he was feeling a little more selfish. He could have rubbed himself off against the couch cushions while having Olli flood his mouth with his hot cum, but the heaviness that threatened to return to his chest had other ideas. 

He expected Olli to object when he gave the tip of Olli’s erection one last kiss before sitting up, but the man only looked up at him in silence with hooded, darkened eyes. Without a word exchanged, Olli spread his thighs as Aleksi positioned himself in between them and guided his own throbbing cock to Olli’s rim. Then Aleksi glanced at Olli, to wordlessly ask if he needed preparation, but instead of nodding or showing any hesitation, Olli took Aleksi by the back of his head and brought him in for another kiss. 

They kissed until Aleksi slid inside Olli, as slowly as he could so as to not hurt him without driving himself crazy with want. They kissed until the throbbing of Aleksi’s cock became unbearable and Olli urged him to do something about it with a roll of his hips, because of course Olli noticed when Aleksi was losing it. They kissed until Aleksi began moving, in and out of Olli, tears rising into both their eyes with every deep thrust. They kissed until Aleksi was fully fucking into Olli, no longer able to hold himself back. They kissed and kissed and kissed, soft and rough at the same time, loving and furious, blissful and heartbroken, until Aleksi felt Olli tighten around him and cry into his mouth, until Aleksi filled Olli with his seed and kept on rocking his hips until he was spent, until there was nothing left of him except what there’d always be left of him, even when he was too exhausted or fucked up to feel anything else: 

his love for Olli. His bottomless, hopeless, good-for-nothing love for Olli, which he would soon have nowhere to put, nowhere to waste on, nowhere to keep it safe until–

Until what? Until the stars would align and everything keeping them apart from each other would magically disappear with the northern wind? Until Olli would abandon his perfect life in Oulu and run back to him?

It was foolish, Aleksi knew, but it was his only hope. It was all he had left. 

Besides, is that not exactly what Olli had done tonight? Perhaps it wasn’t as foolish after all, Aleksi thought as they lay naked on his studio couch. There was still no room for words, despite Aleksi’s insufferable need to tell Olli how much he needed him and how much he was going to miss him, even if Olli wasn’t exactly going anywhere from his life. He wasn’t going anywhere, except for his home in Oulu, but somehow, suddenly, Oulu seemed farther than it had ever been. 

And Aleksi was scared it would only move farther away in time. 

Slowly, drifting them apart. 

There was no room for words, but there were two that Aleksi still couldn’t keep inside his mouth. 

“Don’t go.” 

Olli traced Aleksi’s arm with his fingertips. Aleksi wondered how long it would take for them to touch a bass again after Christmas. 

Or him, after this night. 

Still, Aleksi found great comfort in the touch and buried his head against Olli’s neck. The kiss he then felt on his forehead would have been enough of an answer already, but he didn’t mind hearing Olli’s words either. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”