#this has been rotting in my brain for the longest time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leriexoxo · 4 months ago

Text

LOVE TO HATE YOU

pairing: idol! Hyunjin x Manager! Reader

genre: smut, angst, enemies to lovers

tags: 18+ mdni, unprotected sex, praise (f receiving), oral (m,f), power imbalance, choking, hate sex, dom hyunjin, body worship, use of pet names, filthy smut etc, slight degradation .

word count: 7k

summary: you're the youngest manager of stray kids and you love everything about your job except for Hyunjin who swore to make it a living hell for you. That evening, you get into a very heated argument, and you happen to find out just how much Hyunjin really wanted you and how easily you gave in to him.

Authors note: I had this brain rot stuck in my head for the longest time and I'm uploading it just in time for Hyunjin's 25th birthday.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No, I wasn’t the one who got you banned from painting Hyunjin! That was all you." you storm into the dorm, Hyunjin hot on your tail.

"Well, it’s you who has my studio keys, don’t you!"

In the living area Jisung, Minho and Changbin look up to see what all the fuss is about. They're used to this, their bandmate and youngest manager fighting. You did this all the time, usually about something so silly, but you and Hyunjin were always at each other’s throats.

You had joined the company shortly after stray kids dropped down a member, just fresh out of college, you started your internship at Div1 in 2020 where you met the boys in their early career stage. You got along with all of them pretty well, seeing as you were also within their age bracket, you were a 97 liner just like Chan the leader of the band, and with your musical knowledge and managerial skills, you earned their respect pretty quickly. That is, everyone except Hyunjin.

For some reason, Hyunjin just LOVED to challenge you, from the very first day you were assigned first line manager to Stray Kids, he took it upon himself to argue with you whenever you tried to do your job, you weren’t even any better because you indulged him, out of all the members it was like Hyunjin just rubbed you the wrong way, you never saw eye to eye but while you were suffering, his members thought it was funny and liked to tease the both of you about arguing like a married couple.

Neither of you could pinpoint what the problem really was, but you knew Hyunjin was a brat to you since you met him and you eventually stopped trying to play nice.

Today however, Hyunjin accused you of reporting him to the management because he had been getting really carried away since they let him have his art studio, He started to show up late for recordings, dance practice and just yesterday he missed his scheduled photoshoot with Marie Claire because he was too busy painting himself probably naked and he had his phone on airplane mode the whole day, while the entire company was going crazy looking for him.

Just because you happened to find him yourself at the end of the day after which you gave him a piece of your mind, to which of course Hyunjin rolled his eyes and told you to stop being a drama queen. Div1 collectively decided to put a ban on his studio usage and asked you to lock the place up, which you gladly did but Hyunjin was livid. He blamed you for it of course.

"You didn’t listen when I’d been warning you about it this whole time!" You pointed out, throwing up your hands in frustration before dropping down next to Changbin on the sofa, wanting to ignore Hyunjin and whatever else he had to say.

"Hey don’t ignore me! Give it back." he says, crossing his arms.

"Go take it up with Div1" you say flatly, pretending to care about the League of legends game being played on the flat screen.

"Y/n I’m your idol, you should respect me."

Your eyes snap to Hyunjin, narrowing in anger. "Excuse me?"

Awkwardly the other three pretend to focus on the tv. It was insane to them how much you two fought. Somehow, you both didn't seem to care if you had an audience.

"What!" he snaps.

"First of all, show me some respect, its manager y/n to you!" You get back up again. "And just who the hell do you think you are? You didn’t give me this job so you don’t speak to me like that!"

"Literally who cares? Give me back my fucking keys!"

"You're—" You groan. "You're impossible, you know that right?"

"Me?! have you met yourself?"

You get closer to the younger man, jabbing a finger in his chest as you speak. "You don't get to call me impossible; you literally spend hours in that goddamn studio of yours, ignoring everything and everyone, you have a job to do just as much I do, instead you prefer to play with water colors like a child and make problems for me."

Hyunjin pushes your hand off, moving in closer as well. "You're just mad you have a shitty job cleaning up after me and the guys and those fucking water colors can cover your salary for a year, you show me some fucking respect!" he spat.

"Oh, fuck you Hyunjin!" You yell, sitting back down next to Changbin. They all-except you-glare up at Hyunjin because that was really uncalled for.

"What?!" Hyunjin asks. "She started it"

"Dude." Minho sighs.

"You know, even if I was unfortunate enough to get stuck babysitting your overgrown ass, which I do a pretty damn good job of, at least we can all agree that I earned my position as the youngest manager in Div1 because I put in the damn work. Unlike you who gets everything handed to you but you’re still a mid-rapper and a shitty artist." you say smirking, your eyes still on the tv, though you were glad to see his three other band members nod beside you, all of them now ignoring Hyunjin.

"I’m not a shitty Artist, and I’m a great rapper and dancer which is a lot of work." Hyunjin goes to sit beside you but you get up, forcing yourself between Changbin and Minho.

"Well so are Changbin and Minho, but I don't see them having an attitude problem like you do." You throw back, talking over Changbin who presses himself further into the couch.

"They're different from me, I work different." Hyunjin replied now also talking over poor Changbin.

"You are always so rude to me! You don’t even care about your job as an idol and you take everything for granted. You realize you’re not always going to be popular right?"

"Me?! tell me, how is it that I take everything for granted? enlighten me because now you're just throwing words around!" Hyunjin says as Changbin quietly watches your faces get closer over him.

"Dude?! You literally just missed your first Givenchy Beauty photoshoot at Marie Claire! Did you also forget that you’re about to be announced as the new ambassador through that photo shoot?! What is wrong with you? No really." you scoff before turning to find a different seat, needing to put more distance between you before you smacked the stupid idol.

"Oh my God! I said I lost track of time and I genuinely thought the shoot was for today, I didn’t miss my shoot on purpose, does that even make any sense?" he asked looking exasperated.

"Then go take it up with Div1 and not me, I’m only doing my shitty job and I didn’t make the decision to ban you from your stupid studio! Don’t shoot the messenger." You say, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Well, you’re the Div1 I see and you have my keys, so I’m taking it up with you but you're not listening." He snapped back at you rolling his eyes.

"Okay guys, can we take a little breather? what happened?" Minho asks, finally deciding to butt in.

"Hyung, y/n took my studio keys, after going to snitch on me to management." Hyunjin pouted to Minho and you just shook your head.

"Again, I didn’t snitch. But we can all agree that you need to focus more on your actual job and less on that hobby of yours though."

"Who are you to decide!" Hyunjin argues.

"Your manager damn it!" you raise your voice, he was really starting to piss you off and wear you out, where was Chan when you needed him?

"Don’t you think you’re taking your little job a little too seriously though?" He smirked and folded his hands, trying to taunt you.

"Hyunjin stop it, you’re being disrespectful now." Minho talks a little softer but glaring pointedly at the younger man. “First off, she’s our manager and a noona so you will address her properly”

Hyunjin was silent but glaring at you with all his might, it was like you both were having a glaring match. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Changbin sign to Jisung and Minho to get up off the sofa.

“Noona, I think y’all need to talk this out. You both argue way too much to be considered normal, so the rest of us are just going to give you guys some space” Changbin said, stuffing his hands in his pockets while looking between the two of you.

“Please don’t kill each other, but at least talk whatever it is out yeah?” Minho added, pulling Jisung behind him and towards the front door.

“We’ll be at my dorm if you need us!” Jisung called out just before the door shut behind him.

You scoffed; they were unbelievable. They did not just leave you in here with a thick headed Hyunjin to argue unsupervised. Not that you needed anyone around to handle him for you or that you felt unsafe around him, no. You just knew there would be no truce or talking it out with him, you had been at each other’s necks for years now so what was the point.

You grabbed your phone from the couch ignoring Hyunjin who was still silently glaring at you, waiting for you to say something to keep up the argument. You were about to go around him to make your way over to the exit too when he grabbed your elbow and pulled you back in front of the couch.

“Sit down” he nearly growled, his anger radiating off of him.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" you asked, not yet pushing his hands off but you raised your chin, daring him to say it again.

"I said, sit." he pushes you back. You stumble and fall back onto the couch, eyes nearly spitting fire. He did NOT just manhandle you!

"Are you crazy?" you nearly scream. “Did you just push me?!”

Hyunjin smirks and lowers his head to level with yours, he grabs your chin this time. "Yes, now sit still and shut up."

What the hell was happening? In all the countless arguments with Hyunjin, he had never ever touched you or went this far, you knew he was angry and you were as well because he refused to see reason with you. It was like he had been waiting for an opportunity to take it all out on you, because to be honest, the studio thing wasn’t even as serious as he was trying to make it seem, 48 hours tops and he would have gotten the keys back.

What was even more baffling to you was the blatant disregard for your authority or age even, you were older by three whole years and Hyunjin treated you like a little girl. In that moment you saw red, you were going to smack his pretty face if he didn’t back the fuck up.

“Get the fuck out of my face Hyunjin” you warn, seething.

“You really don’t listen, do you? Noona…” he added the honorific as an afterthought, and with a lot of sarcasm.

Now you were confused. The way your body reacted to him calling you noona in this present situation was a bit weird, also you had no idea why Hyunjin was suddenly being like this, disregarding your personal space and talking to you in this manner. If there was one thing Hyunjin never did since you met each other, it was address you the way his members except Chan did, it was either ‘Miss manager’ or regular old ‘y/n’

“I don’t know what you’re really trying to achieve by pissing me off, but you need to stop this shit right now.”

You tried to push Hyunjin off so you could get up but he didn’t really budge so you took the keys out of your pocket and slammed them against his chest.

"Here are your fucking keys, now please let me leave!" you yell, breathing heavily.

"Too late, I don’t want them anymore" he let the keys fall to your laps without making an attempt to take them, instead he locked eyes with you and held it, tilting his head in the usual manner he did when he suddenly found things interesting and it unnerved you.

"Hyunjin, move!" you warn, leaning back as he brought his face closer to try to intimidate you. “What the hell is your problem? Really”

“Oh, I could ask you the same noona, please enlighten me”

"I don't like you period. You're a loud-mouthed, egotistical, selfish, disrespectful and narcissistic fucking wreck of a idol!" You snap back at his face raising your shoulders to square up with him again.

Deep down you were starting to get worried, as much as you thought arguing with Hyunjin was entertaining in a fucked-up way, you didn’t really want things to escalate or get physical, and you knew saying some certain things to him was really unacceptable, at the end of the day you did work for him.

"I smell a lie in there y/n, you do like me. You might try to deny it but I see the way you react when I call you noona, also you could just ignore my tantrums but you do indulge me as much as I do you, admit it”

You glare at each other for a moment, the next thing you know the two of you move and then you're kissing. Your hands fist Hyunjin’s shirt and his hands move to grab the back of your neck. You feel your heart beating out of your chest, not sure what is happening, you didn't want this to get physical sure, but you had never imagined the two of you getting physical like this.

You push him off quickly, gathering your senses again. "No, what the fuck? What are you doing?” you said, eyes wide and staring at him like he grew two heads.

Hyunjin’s eyes follow your lips as you try to wipe it with the back of your hand, in your panic you hadn’t realized that his hand was still at the back of your neck, then his eyes moved up to meet your shocked ones, something in his gaze had changed and you were smart enough to understand that it had shifted from just annoyance to lust and hunger, a look you knew all too well but never expected to receive from Hwang Hyunjin.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that” he muttered under his breath, entrancing you with his sharp eyes.

You swallowed; your body started to betray you by no longer trying to force your way out of the corner in the couch that he had backed you into. It didn’t help that he was one of the most attractive men you had ever seen, a fact that you actively chose to ignore while doing your job and dealing with his shenanigans but taking in the current situation had you blushing. His taste lingered on your tongue and you could smell him being so close to you. Hyunjin did smell divine.

"So, you're admitting you threw tantrums because you wanted attention?" you ask, choosing completely to ignore what Hyunjin had just revealed.

He groans. "If you don't shut up right now…"

"What Hyunjin? you're going to kiss me again?” you challenged. You really should have been shutting this whole thing down but it was like your mouth had a mind of its own and just decided to do whatever.

"Don’t test me, I could do worse things!" This time it was Hyunjin who backed down, leaving you enough room to actually push him off and hurry to your feet to put some distance between you.

You picked up the nearest throw pillow and launched it at him "You are so unbelievable you fucking prick, stay away from me asshole!" you yelled, throwing another pillow which he caught and tossed aside. he walked over, his long legs swiftly closing the distance and caught your wrist and then the other, pulling you flush against him.

"You need to fucking behave." he says lowly. "Admit it, you want me just as much."

You glared at him. "What are you even saying Hyunjin? The last thing I want to do is be in the same room with you right now, much less want you!”

“Then why did you just kiss me?”

“YOU kissed me Hyunjin!” you argued, knowing fully well that was a lie.

“Do you want me to prove it again?” he smirks, still holding your hands.

“Let go of me right now, this isn’t funny”

“Then apologize for the shit you said to me." He counters

You scoff. "No."

You pushed him off, or at least you tried to but Hyunjin was much stronger, holding you even tighter. “Well then you’re not going anywhere.”

“What?!”

“You heard Hyung, we have to fix whatever our problem is, and…” then he bent to your ear to whisper the next part, “They did give us the whole dorm”

Heat rose to your cheeks at the implication of what he said, Hyunjin was being way out of line, this was clearly a game to him, he obviously wanted to assert dominance in whatever fucked up dynamic it was that you both had, and if he thought you would cower away and be scared of him then he had another thing coming, you vowed to never let him get the upper hand.

"You're being a dick and for what? you know I’m right; you just don't want to admit you're wrong because you’ve been nothing but unreasonable and disrespectful to me!". You were now close enough that if one of you moved an inch, you’d be kissing. Again.

"And what do you think you’re doing trying to intimidate me? Hyunjin you’re a man child, you’re talking about an empty dorm like you would know the first thing to do with a woman if you had the chance?"

"Y/n." Hyunjin warned, his jaw locked in annoyance as he narrowed his eyes at you.

"Did I strike a nerve Hyunjinnie." You said sweetly, tilting your head to the left taunting him.

"Shut. up." He says through gritted teeth.

You smirk. "Make me."

Hyunjin snaps, dragging you out of the living room and down the hallway. Your smirk instantly drops when you find yourself being dragged, his hand tight on your wrist like a vice. You tried tugging back but he was much stronger. "What are you doing?!"

Hyunjin threw open the door to his bedroom, pushing you inside and slamming it shut. "Making you finally shut the fuck up."

You were panicking, this was escalating way too fast, you thought about screaming for help but that was when it dawned on you that you really were alone in the dorm with an angry and possibly horny Hyunjin. Right there behind the anger in his eyes, lust and hunger swam in his dark orbs, he was breathing hard and clenching his fists, it didn’t seem like he was going to hurt you but it did feel like you had dug yourself into a hole you couldn’t get out of unscathed.

Your eyes dart around his room frantically, you also just realized that you had never been in there before, it smelled like sandalwood, roses and Hyunjin. You felt so small in his space and suddenly so utterly aroused.

"What do you me-” your words got stuck in your throat as soon as he started to stalk towards you.

As he closed the distance, his hand settled at the back of your head, pulling on your hair to make you tilt back and look up at him. "When I say shut up," with a smug look he forces you down to your knees. “You shut your damn mouth Noona”

"Hyunjin!"

"No, I’m tired of that big smart mouth of yours." undoing his belt while you glared up at him with you uselessly grabbing at his fist in your hair, Hyunjin takes out his cock, already half hard and pumping it to full hardness.

"My big smart mouth?! I’m going to bite it off if you come any closer, I swear to God." You threaten, eyeing the massive cock in his hand apprehensively.

"Try me noona, if I feel your teeth, you're getting spanked." he threatened before moving his cock to your lips, He paused for a moment to look at you, raising his brow slightly as if to ask ‘you okay with this? do you want me to stop or go ahead?’. Even in Hyunjin’s anger he would never ever blindly assume he could go ahead without any form of consent.

Your glare breaks for a second, you stare up at him and back at his cock waving tantalizingly close to your mouth, you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want this, all the arguments and the kiss felt like foreplay leading up to this. You were still so unbelievably mad at Hyunjin but at the same time he did strange things to your body, your body betrayed you a lot whenever it came to him it was like you wanted to kill him and fuck him at the same time.

For some reason, you felt like you belonged right there on your knees with his hand fisting your hair and forcing you to submit to him, it even turned you on more that he still silently asked for consent despite manhandling you all over the place. The corners of your mouth curled up, your head moving only slightly to nod.

You obediently opened your mouth to take Hyunjin, willingly. He shoved his cock in, not giving you any time to adjust. you gagged slightly but you weren’t offered a break. Hyunjin pushed you further down, holding you there with his cock lodged deep in your throat, your body ignited, drool dripped out the corners of your mouth as you tried your hardest to take it without choking.

"Not so mouthy anymore, are we?" He taunts.

Your jaw twitched, almost showing Hyunjin how dangerous it was to mess with someone who had his dick in their mouth. Thankfully, the implied threat made him hold back. Hyunjin pulled you off, allowing you just enough time to suck in a lung full of air before you were roughly being shoved back down. He fucked your mouth so mercilessly that you struggled to breathe, rather you made a mess of yourself with all the drool and tears.

It was a lot to take, a cock that big and you were running out of breath, you hold him by the base and pull off so you could catch your breath and when Hyunjin whines you start stroking him with your hands.

“Someone’s eager,” He lilts, and then laughs again, throwing his head back. You look up to face him this time, your chest rising and falling quickly.

“I’m eager?” You grit out, eyebrow twitching, “You’re the one who basically dragged me in here and shoved your dick in my mouth, and now you’re whining like a little bitch” you rise up to your feet, your hand still slowly stroking his wet cock, you kept eye contact and pressed your body into him.

His smirk disappeared; pupils blown out with lust. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to say something, but instead he spins you around, you gasp when you feel his hands grip your hips to pull you into his body. You feel his length press against your ass, and you lean back, grinding into him.

“You should tell me if you want me to stop, Y/n,” He grunts, voice hoarse. His hands roam up your body, hovering over your tits, “But I know you don’t want me to, do you? You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

At the last word he covers and squeezes your breast roughly– you’re not wearing a bra. He snickers, pinching your hard nipple over the thin cloth of your blouse. You swallow a moan, mouth already dry. He stills, and then spins you around again towards him roughly. He begins to walk forward with you, forcing you to take a step back and towards his desk. His hand grips your chin like before, but rougher this time.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, noona,” He grits out, eyes dark. You bite your lip; you can feel the power you thought you had over him disappear in this moment.

“Fine, yes,” You spit, “I’ve been thinking about you… but it’s not like it’s one sided.” You wrap your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer to you, kissing up his neck. You feel his body tighten, a groan rasping up his throat. You nip at him, up towards his ear, standing on your tip toes to reach him. “Is this how you imagined me Hyunjin? Or should I show you the other fantasies you’ve had?” He grips your ass tightly in response to this.

“Safe word is green,” He grunts roughly, grabbing your throat lightly and pushing your head upwards to gain access to your neck. He kisses down your throat, biting and sucking, surely leaving marks you’ll find later.

“Get on that bed and get undressed,” He commands, and despite all of your pride, you oblige, eager for more. You make your way towards the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. There’s no anger in his eyes anymore– only the look of a hunter stalking his prey.

You climb onto the bed, turning to face him. He looked so pretty like this, eyes half lidded with lust, jaw slack and breathing hard. He began unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his toned abs, shoulders, sharp collarbones. You could only stare in awe.

“Didn’t I tell you to get undressed,” He says, voice deep and dangerous, “Do I have to ask you again? I won’t be so nice the second time.”

You smirk at him, fingers picking at the hem of your blouse, slowly you pulled it over your head your leggings following immediately after. You hear him suck in a breath, eyes boring into your body, your black lace thong was the only thing left on you. He makes his way towards you at an agonizingly slow pace, pulling out his belt from the loops.

“You’re even more perfect than I ever imagined,” He breathes, casting his belt onto the bed beside you.

Completely entranced by your body, he leaned down, hands gripping your torso, and kissed you roughly on your lips. He tasted like chocolates and mint, lips dominating yours, leaving them swollen. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you, your back pressed into the bed. He made his way down your neck, over your collarbones, taking care to kiss every part of you. You arch your back in need, and his hands press your hips back down into the bed.

“Patience, angel,” He says sternly, the pet name hung over you like a curse turning your brain to mush, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this. Don’t rush it.”

You scoff and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Is that a challenge?” He queries– that damn smirk. He doesn’t wait for your response, just wraps his mouth around your hardened nipple, sucking and licking, earning a loud moan from you. His hand works your other breast, giving you the pleasure that you’d been craving, but still it was not enough. You feel your cunt grow wetter by the second, aching and throbbing.

“That’s what I thought,” He grinned, another win for him. You groan, pushing yourself up on your elbows to face him.

“You’re such an ass, Hyunjin,” you say halfheartedly, trying to sound as menacing and cold as possible. He cocks an eyebrow at you, kissing down your torso, head hovering between your legs, his knees on the floor, kneeling before you.

He looked so beautiful like this, head turned up to you from below, and in turn you felt like the most gorgeous woman in the world in his sight. He pushes your legs open to give himself a better view. He hooked his fingers under your thong, pulling it down your legs. You lift yourself up to allow him to pull them off, the underwear cast to the side quickly.

“Beautiful,” He whispers, eyes lidded heavily with lust. He looks back up at you, searching your face, one hand coming from behind your neck to pull you towards his face, the other gathering the slick at your entrance. He groans into your mouth, kissing you roughly and making you whimper in his mouth.

“Just beautiful,” He grunts, fingers grazing your clit. You jolt back, gasping. “So fucking wet for me,” He stands, hovering over you, hand still circling your clit, drawing moans and gasps from you. He leans down, bending at the hip, placing his other hand beside your head as he hovers over you.

“Tell me you remember that safe word, noona,” He whispers, watching you intently.

“Green,” you say impatiently, needing all of him, wherever you can get him. He chuckles darkly as his eyes roam your face and body.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for years now to see you like this,” His voice was hoarse as he worked you, a couple of fingers slipping into you with ease. You threw your arm over your face and bit the back of your forearm to keep from yelling out. He smacks your hand harshly, and you yelp in response, bucking your hips to try and bring him back to where you want him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He leers, his voice dripping with lust, “First, you don’t cover your face or mouth, ever,” He continues, kissing against your neck roughly. “Second, you’re not in control here, you don’t get to decide what I touch and what I don’t touch, got it?” You moan softly as he continues kissing against your neck, but stills when you don’t respond.

“Answer me! And with words,” He growls, grabbing your face, just tightly enough for you to know that he’s in control.

“Yes,” you whisper, bucking your hips again. Without warning, he smacks your thigh sharply, earning a yelp turned moan from you.

“Yes, sir,” He commands, positioning himself upright, looking down at you with disapproval, everything hazy now, “And what did I tell you about patience,” His hand trails down your chest, up your thighs, everywhere but where you most desperately need him.

“Please,” You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly your smug act disappeared, but you’re too concerned with the aching in between your legs to care. He clicks his tongue with disappointment, hand coming down on your thigh again, harsher this time.

“Please, what, noona, don’t make me keep reminding you,” He continues, “And keep those hips still, if you know what’s good for you,” He chides you, fingers hovering over your pussy. You whine out, growing frustrated now.

“Please, sir, please touch me, I need it so fucking bad,” You moan out, trying to ignore how red your cheeks must be with humiliation. Only him, no one else could ever reduce you to this. His eyes light up, and he begins circling your clit once again. You fall back onto the mattress with a groan of relief.

“See how rewarding it is when you’re good for me,” he says, quickening his pace. You feel your stomach tighten, legs shaking slightly. “Look at me,” He commands and you fight through the haze to open your eyes, lifting your neck slightly to see him.

He crouches at the end of the bed again, kneeling, and grabs under your thighs roughly, pulling you towards him in one swift movement. Nails digging into your hips, he keeps you pressed down still, bringing his head closer, his tongue grazing up your pussy slowly.

“Fuck, Hyunjin!” You yell out, pushing yourself further into his face, He chuckles against you, but continues licking, swirling your clit. Finally, he opens his mouth to suck roughly, lapping up your slick, tongue darting across rapidly. You grasp his head harshly, pushing him even further, arching your back, chasing your release. He moans into you, causing you to tighten your grip on him, his fingers digging into your hip, almost painfully, keeping you tethered to reality. His brow is furrowed in concentration, bringing one of his hands back to slip a finger inside you, pressing from within. You writhe in response, curse words flowing out of you, slurring together. He continues attacking your clit with his tongue, eyes watching your every move, gauging each and every response.

“Hyunjin,” you breathe in warning, feeling yourself tighten around his fingers. He stops, kissing your thighs, and you jolt up, eyes wide. “Hey!” You yell in frustration, so close to your release. He chuckles as he stands, finally stepping out of his jeans. Your eyes trail down his body, his balls hung tight and his cock rigid and wet from his own arousal.

“Third rule noona,” He drawls, “You don’t cum unless I tell you to, got it?” You huff in response, pushing yourself up so that you’re on your knees in front of him, hands reaching out to him. He doesn’t lean into you, eyes boring into you, jaw clenched. “Got it?” He repeats, his hand smacking your cheek softly.

“Yes sir,” You murmur, the sting mixed with his teasing causing you to get worked up all over again. He circles his fingers around your neck, tilting your head up to his.

“Good girl,” He whispers, kissing your forehead softly, gently.

“Please kiss me,” You murmur, reaching out to run your fingers over his jawline. He smiles softly, resting his head in your hand. He starts to kiss you again; his hands slide down your body and towards your cunt. You raise your hips, beckoning him, and he obliges, circling your clit once again.

“Are you ready to play out the rest of those fantasies, y/n?” He asks, eyes hazy, watching the way you writhe under his touch. You nod fervently, eager to take him, to feel him inside you. He guides you back down on the bed, lifting himself up so he’s kneeling between your legs which you immediately wrapped around his waist. He pushes his cock against your swollen clit, teasing you.

“Hyunjin,” You plead, voice hoarse between the ceaseless moaning and his large hand still enclosing your neck, “Please fuck me, I need to feel you.” He sucks in a breath, and nods, unable to contain himself anymore.

He lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in deep, watching your face as it twists in pleasure while he sinks in every inch. He doesn’t stop until he’s buried into you to the hilt, chest rising and falling in anticipation. You visibly struggle to accommodate all of him, Hyunjin was much bigger inside you than you anticipated and you moaned loudly when you felt him twitch.

“Tell me when to start moving, angel,” He murmurs, leaning down so that his face just hovers over yours, his arms moving to hold you, pulling him into you.

“Fuck me,” You whisper, too weak to say anything else. He begins to rock his hips into you, each stroke deeper than the last.

“Fuck,” He whimpers, pulling you closer into him with one arm, the other hand gripping the headboard, “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” You moan, wrapping your legs even tighter around him. He picks up the pace, raising up onto his knees, hands lifting your hips off the bed, fucking you rougher, looking down at you as sweat beads on his brow, strands of hair sticking to his face. He keeps his eyes on yours as he pops a finger in his mouth, moistening it before he brings it to your clit, circling it rapidly. You cry out, back snapping up, your entire torso lifting up.

“Yeah, you can take it,” He praises, “You’re my good fucking girl, aren’t you,” he says, fucking you quicker now. You whimper in response, teetering on the edge of your release. He smacks your cheek just harsh enough to sting slightly, grabbing your face, forcing you to look at him.

“Fucking say it noona, say you’re mine,” He commands hoarsely, sweat falling between his eyes, wild with possessiveness and lust, still moving inside you

“I’m yours Hyunjin, fuck!” You cry out, and he nods approvingly, his fingers circling your clit once more, dragging a deep moan from you, “I’m all fucking yours, please let me come, I’ve been so fucking good for you.”

He chuckles deeply, tongue in cheek, “I don’t know if you’ve been that good,” He jeers, hitting a spot deep within you, your clit swollen from his teasing. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your vision going blurry. He leans back to get a better view of you, one hand pushing on your stomach, exposing yourself further to him, still rubbing your clit, still fucking you deeply, harder, faster.

“Please, sir, please let me come,” You whimper, voice hoarse, tears flowing freely down your face now, your body slick with sweat. He groans as he bottoms out in you, watching where your bodies connect and marveling at the way you take him.

“Cum on my fucking cock, angel” He commands, voice dark, continuing to move in you. You feel your stomach grow warm, your walls tightening around him, your legs shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, Hyunjin,” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut and unable to string together any real sentences, your mind foggy. “Oh shit!”

“Open your eyes, noona, let me see you come,” He says as he snaps his hips into you, “Show me how fucking good you are for me.” The knot in your stomach comes undone, all of your nerves lighting up, body tingling, mind hazy. If you’re yelling out, you’re not sure, completely lost in him, the only thing tethering you the world at this point.

“Fuck,” He grunts, slowing his pace. He pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up into the air. You’re still coming, thighs shaking, your walls clenching around nothing.

“Beautiful, you’re so beautiful,” you hear him whisper from behind you. He presses himself into you again, bottoming out, earning a deep groan from you.

“Fuck yeah, arch your back like that for me, such a good fucking girl,” He praises, reaching a hand around your waist to continue rubbing your clit, the other hand collecting your hair in a fist, pulling your head back. You’ve barely come down from your orgasm, already feeling yourself tighten up all over again. You turn your head slightly to see him in the corner of your eye and grin.

“Does that feel fucking good, Jinnie,” You taunt, moving in sync with him. He throws his head back, moaning deeply, his body slick with sweat.

“Yes, angel,” He whimpers, “You have no fucking idea how good you feel, it’s unreal.” You feel his movements begin to falter, uneven.

“It’s all yours,” You say, and he groans deeply, “All fucking yours, Jinnie.” His fist in your hair clenches tighter at this.

“Best I’ve ever fucking had,” He grunts, voice hoarse, “Best you’ll ever fucking have.” He adds, and you moan loudly in agreement, feeling yourself grow even wetter at his praise.

“I won’t be able to get you out of my head now,” You grit out, “I fucking hate you for it.” He groans loudly, chuckling breathlessly.

“Yeah? You fucking hate me, angel?” He growls, pulling out of you. You huff in frustration, your release close now. He flips you over, flopping onto his back, chest glistening with sweat, rising and falling. He pulls you on top of him so you’re straddling him.

“Show me how much you fucking hate me then,” He whispers darkly, smirking. You can’t help but moan at this, the way he undoes you. He grips your hips roughly, and you can’t even be bothered by the bruises he’ll leave. You work him, rocking your hips, feeling him stretch you out in a way no one else has. The way he watches you, like you’re the most beautiful girl on the planet. He circles your clit once more, praising you as you nearly scream his name.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” He moans roughly, his head falling back, his cock twitching inside of you. You can feel yourself tightening around him, your vision going white.

“Please cum in me, Jinnie,” You grit out, your entire body shaking now, earning a grunt from him in response. You fall down onto his chest, him rutting into you, lewd noises and groans filling the room.

“Noona, I’m– fuck,” He groans, and just at the sight of him coming undone, the way his brow furrows in concentration, sweat glistening, you feel yourself cross over that edge again, crying out as you come on him again. He pumps into you a couple more times as he comes with you, his mouth hanging open, before his hands fall to his sides.

You both lay in silence there for a few moments, panting. You roll over so you’re on his side, him pulling you closer, your head on his chest. Your legs shake slightly, and he chuckles softly.

“I don’t recall letting you cum that second time,” He whispers darkly, “But I guess I’ll let it slide this time.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Oh, shut the fuck up” you say, still trying to collect yourself. He scoffs, his hand running up your back slightly.

“I’d fight with you every day as long as we end up like this” He winks, smiling cheekily like a man who just won the lottery,

“I’m still your manager, you need to get a grip” you snap back but without the bite.

“Yeah, my manager who is also now my girl” He pulls you in and kisses you sweetly. “I guess I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feel free to re-blog and leave a like if you enjoyed this!

p.s: Hyunjin, if youre reading this, HAPPY BIRTHDAY baby!!

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #skz hyunjin #hyunjin #skz imagines #enemies to lovers #hyunjin stray kids

307 notes · View notes

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 1 year ago

Text

I DREAM, NOW, OF A NORMAL LIFE WITH YOU ; SUGURU GETO

synopsis; suguru isn’t a lightweight. this is your first time actually seeing him drunk — though maybe it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’d be the sappy kind.

word count; 9.4k (..... i got carried away ok)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader (shoko calls u "girl" but in a "girl help" way not a gendered way), written w a no curses au in mind, sugu is a sappy emotional drunk i said what i said, sickening amounts of fluff, depictions of intoxication, reader is averse to alcohol, sugu wants to marry u so bad it makes him look silly, lots of emotions & lots of love <33

a/n; this fic has been ROTTING in my drafts for the longest time but its super precious to me and now i finally get to post it!! @softgirlgonehaywire & @hayakawalove ily ty for being interested in sappy!sugu this is a treat for u <33

the bar isn’t all that far off from your apartment.

it’s a short distance, really. walk straight ahead, until you reach the record store that suguru likes to frequent, and then take a right; a minute or two uphill, and then you’ll be able to see the blue of the sea. once you’re there, all that’s left is to look for mellow golden lighting and descend a set of stairs.

which is what you’re currently doing, popsicle in hand, loose clothes and comfortable shoes on as you wallow in the mellow summer evening. everything is blue — the dark shade of the sky, and your ice pop, pastel and sweet, tasting of pure youth. the hoodie you threw on is a rich cobalt, suguru’s in name but yours in spirit. he only wears it when you complain that it doesn’t smell like him anymore.

humming a jolly tune, you take a sharp turn, allowing the summer sensations to curl around your subconscious. blissed out and content.

you were so, so bored — stuck at home with no one to keep you company, no one to mumble snarky commentary about the show playing on tv, no one to run their fingers through your hair while your head rests in their lap. pure torture, really, being faced with the consequences of your own actions. after you stupidly told suguru you’d be okay on your own.

he even asked you twice, just to be sure, even told you that he’d prefer you to join him on his night out. and again, you declined; because it’s been so long since he had some time alone with shoko and satoru, and you were feeling a little tired anyways.

so he gave in. heading out, with a promise to bring back a tub of your favorite ice cream, leaving you with the apartment to yourself. did you come to regret your little white lie? maybe. possibly.

but everything worked out in the end.

a pleasant breeze caresses your skin, brushing against the apple of your cheek, and you watch as peach blossoms dance in a faraway park. cicadas cling to every tree in sight, buzzing a pleasant tune, mingling with the giddy giggles of high school students enjoying their summer vacation. it’s been raining for a couple of days; you can still smell it in the air, feel it in the low tinge of humidity clinging to your skin, still hear suguru’s insistence that you bring an umbrella with you to work — just in case.

but today, the skies were clear, and it’s late, not too humid but not too chilly. and the stars are out, glimmering in that fuzzy sea of mellow cerulean, leaking out like little marbles cast into space. falling down, down, down, close enough for you to see. from here, it looks as if they’re waving. you resist the urge to wave back.

peace. bliss. a nostalgia so vibrant you could drown in it, feel it lick at your ankles like soft sea foam.

eager to scratch a certain itch in your brain, attention span zipping from one street vendor to the pop music blasting from a couple streets away, you take your phone out from your pocket. absently scrolling through your messages, until you get to the ones shoko sent you just ten minutes ago. the ones that brought you out here, into a summer evening soon to slip into nightfall, ones that have you walking to the bar you chose not to join them at.

messages that still have you pushing back a bout of giggles, chewing lazily on your ramune ice pop with a giddy smile.

sho 🚬: come get ur man sho 🚬: he’s drunk. sho 🚬: like DRUNK drunk

you: …… um. you: what happened to hi? hello?? good evening???

sho 🚬: no time for that. look sho 🚬: [ image ] sho 🚬: he looks so goofy lol

unable to resist the temptation, you press the pad of your finger against the screen — opening the image attachment, just to drink in the sight once again. what you see is a certain man, slumped over in his seat, cheek smooshed against the wooden table in front of him. messy hair, no longer tied into a bun, cascading down his shoulders and back. from the little you can see of his face, his skin is flushed a light pink, and his eyes are closed, fingers still curled around an empty beer jug.

like a sleepy puppy.

a coo tiptoes on your tongue, but you bite down on your lip in an effort to stop it, just grinning at your screen with pure adoration in your lovesick eyes.

he’s drunk, alright. an unfamiliar sight, but not at all unwelcome. because he’s cute, terribly so, so cute that it hurts, even when he’s obviously wasted. it’s almost funny — you know their drinking habits. shoko holds her liquor so well that it’s a little horrifying, and satoru can get wasted if he has more than a sip of it. and suguru?

suguru never gets drunk. he barely even drinks. out of consideration for satoru, maybe, or you. probably both. that’s just how he is; you thought he hated fish for years, because he was always so eager to give you the best bites of the sushi rolls you ordered. turns out he was just indulging you.

so, to be frank — the idea of him suddenly being drunk is a little bit of a shocker. but it’s also kind of exciting, in a ridiculous way. new, fun, just what you need when you’re bored out of your mind.

(or maybe you’re just happy to have an excuse to go see him.)

you: NOOOO you: MY BABY 😭😭😭 you: what did u guys DO to him???

sho 🚬: satoru and him made a bet 😐 you know how they are sho 🚬: he drank like a divorced mother of four ive never seen something so beautiful

you: …. you: have i told you that you’re both terrible

sho 🚬: u love us <33 sho 🚬: anyway he’s been asking me where u are for the past ten minutes pls come i can’t stand him sho 🚬: he’s crying.

you: HUH???????? you: WHY????????????????

sho 🚬: dude i dont know sho 🚬: please come get him he’s being so sappy that satoru’s abt to throw up

you: ???? okok 😭 you: im omw ig??

sho 🚬: girl hurry he just told me he genuinely appreciates my presence in his life 😐

an exhale — laced with deep amusement — drops from your lips and spills into the summer air. it tastes like a memory from long ago.

slipping your phone back into your pocket, you raise your gaze, searching for a glimmer of goldish light. soaking up the scent of the ocean, sparkling on the border of your peripheral. salty and sweet.

no matter how hard you try, all you can think of is that certain someone, waiting for you to pick him up. your mind keeps drifting back to the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the way his hair falls over his face when he leans down, the sound he makes when he stretches in the morning.

you want to see him. badly. you want him near, want to feel the familiar warmth of his presence, want to see him smile and laugh and sigh and raise his eyebrow at your antics.

so there isn’t any time to waste. you’re walking towards that familiar set of stairs before you know it, shoes hitting the asphalt with a mantra of satisfying thuds.

and when you step in through the opened door, you’re immediately engulfed by a sense of overflowing comfort. mellow, warm lights, the soft buzzing of static from an old radio, low citypop beats trailing through the air. the bartender by the counter gives you a curt nod in greeting, before motioning towards a certain table. it’s over in the corner, covered in beer jugs and fancy glasses, with three beauties seated around it.

satoru notices you first.

a bright grin finds its way onto his face, and he waves you over giddily, happily. barely contained excitement in the motion. shoko’s gaze follows his, flitting over to meet yours — and you think she mouths an oh, thank god, before taking another sip from her glass. she brings a hand up in greeting when you come closer, and you can’t see her smile, but there’s a crinkle to her eyes; a warmth in them that you’d never miss.

”hey, guys.”

”yo!” satoru chirps, beaming in a way that’s so distinctly him it makes you soften. he looks so comfortable in his seat, with a cocktail you know is non-alcoholic and probably too sweet for anyone but him to stomach. giggling to himself, leaning over to poke suguru’s cheek, with a teasing declaration of your chaperone is here!

and there he is.

the man you came here for, still slumped over in his seat, unresponsive. not for long. as the lilt of your voice reaches his ears, his eyes flutter open, in a bout of recognition — even in the drunken state he’s in. an immediate sensation of familiarity creeps into his veins, rousing him from his cozy, half-asleep stupor.

he doesn’t even grumble over the way satoru keeps poking at his cheek, interest and attention focused solely on a certain someone. you, your presence.

and when your eyes meet his, he lights up.

it’s precious, you think, how his eyes widen, blooming with genuine affection, so endearing you could kiss him right then and there. his face is flushed, and his hair is tousled, and the warm lighting of the bar paints him in a golden hue. so perfect for him, your star in the sky.

a smile spreads across his lips, big and happy and warm, and you can’t help but mirror it.

(gosh, he’s cute.)

with a dizzy kind of eagerness, suguru sits up, palms flush against the table to support his weight. he stumbles out of his seat, paying no heed to satoru’s amused huff of careful! or the rattling of fragile glass.

it only takes a few uncoordinated steps for him to reach you, where you haphazardly lean against the wall, watching him amusedly. that delighted smile never leaves his lips, as his arms go to curl around your waist, big and heavy, his jaw finding its rightful place on the curve of your shoulder.

”baby,” he drawls, fond and affectionate. breathing you in. ”sweetheart. my angel.”

a flustered puff of laughter slips from your lips, stumbling a little under his weight. his voice is syrupy sweet, overflowing with love and adoration, soft in a way that has your knees buckling. a little raspy. murmured right into your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

he’s too sweet for you to handle, really, even sweeter than satoru’s overpriced cocktail. and he smells the same as always; a blend between coffee grounds, cigarette smoke and rain, one that never fails to soothe you. even when it’s tangled up with a vague but vivid stench of alcohol, courtesy of the drinking he’s been doing until now.

you crinkle your nose, but don’t let go of him, nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head. words buzzing with warmth. ”hey, sugu.”

suguru only squeezes you tighter, content to have you in his arms. finally, his world makes sense again. all he can do is bask in your voice, warmth, scent — he’s just so enamored by it all. almost in a trance, heartstrings dancing along to the beat of your presence, your very existence, that appears to him as something almost angelic. soft and familiar, something that feels right at home when it’s tucked into his embrace. where he can keep it safe.

”missed you…” he murmurs, sleepy, smearing an open mouthed kiss against the crook of your neck. ”i love you s’much…”

a chuckle. ”i love you too,” you echo, running a steady hand over his back. your voice is laced with something teasing, but awfully fond. ”you really are drunk, aren’t you?”

”mm…” he only hums, cheek pressed flush against your soft skin. ”’m sorry…” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. he sounds a little guilty, and it makes you want to coo. pull his cheek a little.

instead, you laugh. amusement vowen into the bubbly noise. ”it’s fine, sugu. c’mon — let’s go home, alright?”

at that, satoru visibly reacts, placing his glass on the table with a soft clink before getting up to stretch. he grabs suguru’s discarded jacket, letting it hang off his arm as he walks over to the two of you.

”i’ll help you carry him,” he smiles, always so dependable. so ready to be of service. maybe a little too eager to carry suguru around like a sack of potatoes.

a smile blooms on your face, and satoru gives you a playful wink. shoko just leans back in her seat, stretching idly. it feels like home with them there.

”i’ll stay here,” she hums, a faint grin tugging at her lips. ”he’s your problem now.”

”got it.” you meet her lidded eyes, sharing an amused look as satoru tries to coax suguru away from you, pulling at his cheek while he whines and clings to the fabric of your clothing.

finally, he relents, and you look back at the table with a grin. ”see you later, sho’.”

a smile is the only response you get, but it’s enough. it’s her, the same as always, still sipping from a glass of expensive whiskey and raising her hand in a silent see you. relaxed and cool, and so very lovely.

with one arm over satoru’s shoulder and the other clinging to your hoodie, suguru stirs.

”shoko…” he groans, craning his head to look back at her, even as satoru makes a move to leave. ”don’t drink too much. and watch out for strangers…”

he trails off, blinking drowsily, a protective tone to his voice. worried. awfully like him. neither you nor satoru can resist the chuckle you indulge in, but shoko just rolls her hazel eyes.

”i don’t need to hear that from you,” she scoffs, tinged with amusement and what you’re almost certain is embarrassment. there’s a fondness to her snark, one you’d never miss.

(shoko will always be shoko. you know that she appreciates suguru’s concern, even if she doesn’t want to show it.)

”alright, c’mon,” satoru quips, slapping suguru’s back with a grin. ”there, there, big guy. let’s get you home, hm?”

just as you suspected, he doesn’t let you help, doing all the heavy lifting on his own. not breaking a single sweat, flaunting his strength as he hoists suguru up the steps — while you do nothing but follow, a light jacket hanging off your arm.

cold midnight air embraces you, slathering your cheeks with the essence of summer as your shoes meet the asphalt. satoru smiles, a low exhale escaping him, dusting off his hands. ”there we go.”

suguru stumbles towards you, no longer caged in, slumping against your shoulder with a satisfied sigh. blinking slowly, as you link arms, his muddled senses adjusting to the outside world. a pleasantly blue sky, a sun long set, and a string of lamp posts to light up the street ahead of you. artificial fireflies, watching over the town you love so dearly.

you part your lips, and a soft exhale slips out, dripping with fondness. ”thanks, satoru,” you smile, meeting his gaze.

”don’t mention it,” he waves you off, but you know he appreciates it; always eager to be praised. ”can you bring him back by yourself?”

”yeah, we’ll be fine. it’s close, anyway. don’t worry.”

a hum buzzes in his throat, and his cobalt gaze drifts upwards, to bask in the starry sky. a moment passes, and then he’s looking back at you and suguru; a soft and earnest smile playing at his lips. so sincere you want to reach out, cup his cheek, make sure he knows how loved he is.

”i’ll go back to shoko, then,” he chirps. bubbly and graceful, giddy and playful. always so lovely. ”gotta make sure she stays out of trouble.”

a chuckle. you mirror his smile. ”of course.”

and with that, your precious best friend makes a move to return to the bar, taking a decisive step away from you. before he can get too far, though, a certain hand reaches out to hold onto his sleeve — keeping him still.

satoru turns around. blinking once, then twice, in confusion; faced with none other than suguru, still slumped against you. a little out of it, sleepy and disoriented, yawning quietly, but his eyes are as clear as ever. caring and sentimental.

his gaze cuts to the bone of things. it’s something you’ve grown used to.

”thanks, satoru,” he murmurs, letting go of said man’s shirt. the words that spill from his lips are straightforward, a little tactless, but overflowing with earnest appreciation. ”you’re my best friend.”

a moment passes. the stars burn in silence.

satoru blinks.

then he sighs, with what you know is nothing more than feigned annoyance. masking his embarrassment, the same way shoko did, the same way suguru always does. your repressed, beloved little losers.

”yeah, yeah. i got it,” he pats suguru’s shoulder, once, twice. not looking at him. ”you’re such a sap, you know that? geez.”

a grin crawls up to rest on your lips, fresh mischief blooming in your eyes. ”not gonna call him your best friend back?” you tease, a soft tilt of your head.

satoru gives you a glare, playful, one you can’t physically see from behind his shades but still somehow sense. ”don’t add fuel to the fire,” he grins, with a halfhearted flick to your forehead.

before you can bicker further, suguru yawns, loudly, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you. you share an amused look with satoru, until he shakes his head fondly.

”take care of him, alright?”

”i will. you guys have fun!”

and at last, satoru turns on his heel, coupled with a smile and a lazy wave. but suguru calls out to him once more, unwilling to part ways without saying his piece. so sentimental, so loving it comes to him like breathing.

”bye-bye, satoru,” he slurs, voice loud enough for the entire street to hear, tired and honest. raising his arm in a lazy wave. ”i love you!”

”go home already!” satoru shouts, descending down the steps with a flush to his cheeks that you’ll tease him for later. his soft laughter is carried away by the breeze, sweet and saccharine.

(satoru will always be satoru. you know that he loves suguru back, even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud.)

with a faint chuckle, melting into the summer air, you tug on suguru’s arm. ”alright,” you chirp, looking up at him. ”let’s go!”

he seems a little more awake now, at least, trying to match your steps. meanwhile, you do what you can to support his weight; he’s stumbling a bit, but you don’t mind. if anything, his weight is a comfort, your arms linked together like a lucky charm. a safe harbour.

suguru is acting kind of like a big puppy, gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. a little meek, clinging to you, trailing after you pliantly. he’s a little dizzy, still, and he needs you to get back home in one piece. it makes you puff out your chest, stand up straighter. makes you feel protective of your 6’2 boyfriend, all toned muscle and broad shoulders, the personification of scary dog privilege. but he needs you right now.

a soft bout of laughter spills into the air, as you try to ignore his heavy stare. it’s impossible, though — so you turn your gaze to meet his own, and he practically glows under the sound of your giggles, that cheeky smile you’re wearing. ”you okay, suguru?”

his eyes soften. silently, he runs a thumb over the knots of your knuckle, smoothing down your skin, thick fingers intertwined with yours.

he looks deep into your eyes, and a soft hum of affirmation buzzes in his throat.

”i’m just so happy,” he grins, with a sincerity that has your heart doing flips inside your ribcage. it flutters, flutters, flutters, in the wake of his unbridled joy. it buzzes like it wants to break out.

suguru has this dreamy look on his face, one you can do nothing but admire, painted over with fluorescent moonlight and pure summer bliss. one that reminds you a little of high school rooftops, midnight road trips, what it means to be in love.

you nudge him, softly, with the arm that’s tangled up in his own. tilting your head, teasing words on the tip of your tongue. ”you know, i never took you for a sappy drunk.”

suguru's only response is a cute little mmrn, steps heavy as he leans on you for support. trying his best to carry himself, not wanting to inconvenience you, but it’s just a little tough. especially when he feels this soft, this grateful — this blessed.

a giddy, dreamy smile tugs at his lips. his amber gaze travels up, towards the little pale dots of star clusters all across the night sky, gleaming like milk poured over rich coffee. then he exhales; a soft, blissful little sound. ”i’m so lucky.”

a moment passes, silently. in the distance, cicadas buzz. with a patient smile, you admire him, the reflection of starlight in his eyes. suguru has this forlorn look, etched into his expression, like he’s seeing something that isn’t quite there.

”i have satoru and shoko…” he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear. as if he’s tasting the words on his tongue, as if he can’t quite believe them himself. that’s how lucky he feels, sometimes.

a nod. ”they love you a bunch, you know?”

(they do. they’re both horrible at saying it out loud, but you know they do. you know that they love suguru, just as much as he loves them, even if none of them are good at putting it into words. perhaps they don’t really even need to, in the first place.)

suguru mirrors the soft nod of your head, bangs falling over his eyes as he does. ”and i love them, too.” his smile grows. ”they’re my best friends.”

absently, you reach a hand out, brushing away the strands of hair obscuring his vision. and suguru stirs, his gaze shifting until it falls on you. like a moth to a flame. there’s something indescribable in his eyes, soft and heavy and tender and true.

”— and i have you.”

a stutter of your heartbeat, a jolt throughout your chest. his stare almost burns, but you can’t avert your gaze — suguru looks positively lovesick. admiring you with a dreamy gaze, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

he reaches a hand out; cradling your face with one big palm, the rough pads of his fingers smoothing down your skin so very gently. smearing his fondness from your jaw to your cheekbone, so loving your breath hitches in the back of your throat.

a soft, content sigh spills into the air, like a prayer that doesn’t need any words. his smile is serene.

”my angel.”

as the words fall, that peaceful smile of his changes shape, shifting into a big, giddy grin. it lights up his whole face. a chuckle leaves his lips, content and delighted. ”i’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

and for a moment, you fear that your heart will stop beating entirely. frozen, listening to the lullaby of your heartbeat resounding in your ears.

suguru has always been frighteningly good at flustering you — but isn’t this a little unfair? you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. it’s tough, though. your words could never measure up to his, could never flow as freely, but they’re honest. wholly and thoroughly. and maybe that’s enough.

”we’re the luckiest in the world, too, then,” you echo, smiling, words barely above a whisper. willing yourself to meet his gaze. ”since we have you.”

suguru looks into your eyes. there’s starlight inside them, he thinks, shining brightly, gleaming in the dark. with the hazy filter of intoxication clouding his mind, it’s all he can think. you’re his northern star, his lighthouse. his one and only saving grace.

(you’re so, so pretty.)

a pause. after a silent moment, spent etching your features into his retinas, suguru tilts his head. his expression is unreadable.

— he boops your nose.

you blink. once, twice, caught entirely off guard; and suguru giggles. soft, giddy little breaths falling from his lips like marbles, strewn over the sand of a warm beach. his eyes are crinkled at the edges, and his smile is sweet, meeting your surprised gaze with a honeyed coo. ”you’re so cute, baby.”

silence. you look up at him.

then you sigh, exasperated, more flustered than you’d like to admit. god. okay, he’s really out of it. for some reason, you still thought you could get a good one-liner in, but of course he had to ruin that by being a little tease.

you grab onto his bicep. gaze fixed straight ahead, giving it a tug. your steps are more decisive now, and suguru follows you happily. ”alright, alright. c’mon,” you beckon, slightly gruff. ”we’re almost there.”

when you finally reach the familiar front door of your apartment, you exhale a deep sigh, laced with pure relief. limbs tired from dragging suguru up the stairs, mind muddled and sleepy and senses practically engulfed by a man still clinging to you like his life depends on it.

after fumbling with your keys and hearing the click of the lock, you take a victorious step over the threshold, and a familiar scent greets you. soothing, comforting, a blend between fresh laundry and leftover curry and blooming hydrangeas. filling your senses with a fervent kind of bliss. of course, suguru’s does the same; intimately intertwined with the scent of home. that everlasting, never-changing blend.

with him clinging to you like this, it’s almost suffocating — but you truly don’t mind. suguru’s warm, and sweet, and being close to him like this makes you feel at peace. his hands rest on your hips, his jaw on your shoulder, and he adamantly refuses to let go of you for even a second. it’d be annoying if he wasn’t so cute, if he wasn’t suguru geto, if you weren’t so horrendously weak for him.

what you don’t know is that suguru has an agenda. one that isn’t just i want to hug the love of my life, although partially that as well. suguru has a plan, one he’s been absentmindedly dreaming of for the past five minutes; he’s a man on a mission.

but he’s patient. always has been, always for you. so he waits, and waits, for you to hang his jacket up, for you to kick your shoes off your feet. and when you’re finally, finally finished, suguru leans in to kiss you.

— you block his mouth with the palm of your hand.

a moment passes. silent, almost tense. in his stupor, suguru’s mind can’t quite seem to comprehend the situation before him; he doesn’t understand why he isn’t pressing a kiss to your lips, right now, why he’s kissing the skin of your palm. he doesn’t understand why you look so troubled, a faint guilt simmering in your eyes. he just doesn’t understand.

all he can do is blink, dumbly, surprised. a question written on his features clear as day.

”well, it’s just…” you sputter, sheepishly. avoiding his gaze, a little guilty. ”you know. since you’ve been drinking, and all…”

and it hurts, you think. it hurts a lot more than it should. it hurts to reject him, hurts to see the way he deflates at your clarification. like a big kicked puppy. like you just threatened to throw him out into the street.

suguru removes your hand, gently, holding it in his own as he speaks. those amber eyes are downcast, and a soft pout rests on his lips. the sight alone feels like a dagger to your chest.

”but…” he frowns, voice awfully meek. he looks so sad. ”i wanna kiss you…”

a soft sigh leaves your lips, before you can think to hold it in. oh, he’s being so unfair. guilt clings to your mind, an itch you yearn to scratch, and all you want is to kiss his pout away. but you really, really don’t want to kiss his alcohol-soaked lips.

so you settle for the second best option.

”’m sorry, sugu,” you coo, reaching a hand out to cradle his cheek. he leans into your touch, still pouting, and you tug a little at his bottom lip. wasting no time in closing the narrow distance between you.

the kisses you press against his skin are soft. peppering kisses all across his face; ghosting your lips along his jaw, trailing towards his cheekbones, and settling on his forehead. tiny little pecks, wherever you can reach. your voice is soft, muffled into his skin between butterfly kisses. ”tomorrow, okay?”

and suguru seems to brighten up a little, melting under the contact, exhaling in pure bliss. he fervently returns the treatment, planting open mouthed kisses all over your face, respecting your wishes and avoiding your lips. they’re a little sloppy, but you don’t mind.

it does make you a little flustered, though. with his palms cradling your face, engulfing you, there’s nothing you can do except drown in his affection, the love he showers you with. it tickles — and suguru’s smile only grows, at the sound of your soft giggles. his cheeks are starting to hurt.

the state he’s in is just a little bit hazy. despite his initial dejection, he no longer minds that he can’t feel your lips against his, disappointment warded off by your smile and laughter alone. he thinks you’re so, so cute, and all he wants is to kiss you forever.

but you have other plans.

and before you know it, you’re both curled up in bed, limbs all tangled up beneath the blankets, bodies pressed together as suguru cages you in. he squeezes you tightly, hugging you close, practically melting into you. usually, it’d be so easy to fall asleep like this. with suguru cradling you, covering your body with his own, warm and safe. he’s like a furnace.

but right now, it’s a little tough. you’re kept awake by open mouthed, ticklish kisses pressed against your skin, supplied by the love of your life. it’s sweet, but he’s being far too distracting — as soon as your consciousness begins to fade into the fuzzy realm of sleep, he leaves a sloppy kiss against your collarbone, and you’re jolted awake once more.

”suguuu,” you whine, dragging his name out with childish inclination. ”we need to sleep…”

”sorry,” he only murmurs, muffled into your skin. he doesn’t stop, though, planting a wet smooch on your cheek, and then another. you squirm a little in his hold, and he emits a shaky breath. ”jus’ love you so much…”

suguru knows that he needs to stop. he knows that both of you need to sleep, that you need to rest up. that he needs to recover from the intoxicated state he’s fully aware that he’s in — but he just can’t seem to follow through with it. every cell in his body burns with a certain desire, a need to shower you in love, and it’s unendurable. with every kiss, every giggle he manages to pull from your lips, suguru’s heart fills up just a little more.

your presence surrounds him, like a weighted blanket, and he clings to it with a desperation he never knew before you.

in the midst of his feverish consciousness, you’re all his muddled mind can think about. the way you fit together with him like a puzzle piece, like he was formed in the shape of someone meant to hold you. like you were formed in the shape of his embrace. with you pressed up against him, limbs tangled with his, everything feels so right.

but it’s so overwhelming.

you’re so, so close, so close he’s practically engulfed by your scent, your touch, everything that makes his heart burn with devotion. it’s beating so viscerally in his ribcage, stirring the protective instinct inside him; he just wants you to stay close, by his side, wants to keep you safe and happy. wants to make you feel loved.

suguru’s heart feels wet and raw and bare, fully exposed for you to see. beating just for you.

with the alcohol inside his veins, and the nostalgia of the summer evening on his mind, everything weighs on him just a little too heavily. everything feels just a little too much. every sensation, every emotion, every sappy thought. all of it together is almost too much for him to handle.

all he can think of is you. how lucky he is, to have met you, to have gotten to know you. how much you’ve changed him, changed him for the better, how much of him is directly tied to your existence.

suguru never truly appreciated his name until you came into his life. it was always no more than a simple fact, a gift from his parents that he hadn’t asked for. something natural, that he didn’t question, didn’t think about.

but you say his name with such warmth.

he wants to hear you say it, over and over again, forever. suguru — in that sweet, lovely voice of yours. better yet, just sugu, a cutesy, silly nickname he could never bring himself to actually hate. he just wants to hear you call out to him, with that warmth of yours, the one that never fails to soothe him. no matter how tired he is, how stressed. how much everything else weighs down on him.

at the end of the day, he’s simply your sugu. and that’s all he ever really wants to be.

with a hazy filter clouding his senses, coaxing him into closing his eyes, suguru should give in. he should fall asleep, let you fall asleep. but he can’t bring himself to stop thinking about it; he just loves you so wholly. who you are, what you do. as an equal, an individual, a little galaxy tucked into a body made of flesh and blood. no matter what you’re doing, no matter where you are.

and right now, you’re here, with him. curled up in bed, in your shared apartment, inhaling the same air, exhaling at the same time. by his side, when you could be anywhere else in the world.

his heart is yours. that’s all suguru can bring himself to think, the only coherent thought he can cling to and echo in his head. his heart is yours. forever and ever.

he makes no attempt to stop the tears from pooling in his eyes, even as he feels them cling to his lashes, even as his breathing clogs up in the back of his throat. they’re proof of his devotion, his carefully nurtured love. growing over the years, into something almost sacred, a kind of faith. something so fervent he wouldn’t dare deny himself of feeling it.

he can’t hold in a faint sniffle, either, just barely audible. one that breaks your heart in two. it aches, aches, aches. suguru is gazing at you with glassy eyes, a sight you aren’t used to seeing — but he also looks so genuinely glad. his tears aren’t ones of sadness. you know, because you know him.

”aw, honey…” you coo, the pads of your fingers reaching out to cradle his cheek. despite your efforts, your voice wavers when you speak, little more than a whisper. ”don’t cry... you’ll make me cry, too.”

suguru places his larger palm over yours, choking on another sniffle. the sight renders you completely helpless — you want so desperately to stop his tears from falling, but a part of you is too touched to speak. too mesmerized by how beautiful he is, translucent tears illuminated by softly flickering moonrays, lashes glimmering like shooting stars.

all you can do is smooth a thumb right under his eye, wiping away a stray tear with enough tenderness to stitch his heart back together. suguru emits a shaky breath.

”’m sorry,” he sniffles, closing his eyes. nuzzling into the crook of your neck. ”i’m just so happy… love you so much… you mean so, so much to me, i…”

an exhale, a little breathless, tears soaking through the material of the shirt you’re wearing. his shirt. that realization makes him cry even more, a shuddering breath that shatters like glass when it drops from his tongue.

and then, in a voice so quiet you barely hear it, a soft whisper worth a million words:

”i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

and it hurts. your heart aches so sincerely, thorns curling around your ribcage, because suguru is crying, and he’s telling you all this. with such an honest intonation that you don’t dare doubt him, even for a second. heavy thumps of blood rush through your veins; he’s still clinging to you, sniffling into your neck, and you’re so in love with him that you almost can’t comprehend it.

all you can do is press a kiss to his shoulder, chaste and tender, and hug him just a little tighter. echoing his words, in earnest, desperately trying to keep your voice from breaking apart. ”i love you, too. more than anything.” a sigh, full of wonder. little butterfly kisses scattered across the expanse of his neck. ”you mean the world to me. honestly.”

with a smile against his skin, you hope so tenderly that the soft kisses will comfort him, will stop the tears from falling.

”my sweet boy,” you murmur, lovingly, because he is. the sweetest boy you’ll ever know. suguru shudders when you press your lips against his jaw. ”i’m so, so lucky.”

with the combined efforts of your kisses, the alcohol slumbering inside his veins, and the tears running down his cheeks, suguru begins to feel awfully tired. sinking into sleep’s embrace, like a sailor lost at sea. comforted by the glimmer of a lighthouse, just out of reach.

everything feels right. he’s safe, and happy, and in love. so hopelessly, blissfully in love.

the exhaustion creeps up on him, tidal waves embracing a shore, beckoning him into closing his weary eyes. a yawn leaves his lips, and he shifts a little in your hold. you’re smoothing down the back of his head, almost protectively, and sleep is only a flicker away for the both of you. with the last of his strength, suguru snuggles just a little further into you, nose pressed up against your neck, close enough that he feels the flutter of your heartbeat.

”wanna be with you forever,” he murmurs, sleepily, stifling another bout of yawns. his smile is sweet and dreamy. ”gonna marry you one day…”

a moment passes.

for a second, you think your heart does actually cease beating entirely.

swallowing a gulp, you allow yourself the luxury of an inhale — and fresh air fills your lungs. grounding. all you can hear is the rapid beating of your own heart, heavy thumps reverberating in your ears. warmth flows through your entire body.

marry.

the word is spoken so casually, so sincerely, as if he’s said it countless times before. as if he’s repeated it, over and over again in his mind, just to get used to the idea. as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. marriage. something so foreign, so scary, enough to send shivers down every narrow of your skeleton. such a large step to take.

(but suguru says it with such tenderness.)

”… okay,” you whisper, at last. breathless. ”i’ll be waiting, then.”

there’s nothing else to say. you don’t know if suguru is even conscious enough to hear you, let alone understand the full weight of your words, of his own words. but you don’t mind.

a soft smile lingers on your lips, as you stroke his hair, mind hazy and limbs heavy. nuzzling your cheek against the side of his head, full of affection. dripping from your hands down to the column on his throat, through his windpipe, down to his heart.

”goodnight, sugu.” you press a kiss to his messy hair, tender and chaste. ”i love you.”

an incoherent mutter leaves his lips, in response, one you can’t quite make out — but you don’t need to. because you already know what it means, in the same way you know that the sky is blue.

(an echo buried deep within his subconscious, voiced without effort, as easy as breathing.

i love you, too.)

the sizzling of a pan and the whirring of a coffee machine form a beautiful morning symphony, bouncing off the walls of your kitchen. to your ears, and your still sleepy brain, it’s a soothing sound — coaxing soft little melodic hums from the depths of your throat.

with such a tantalizing aroma in the air, a blend between espresso and pancake batter, you can’t help but buzz with a mellow, groggy kind of joy.

honestly, you're beginning to understand suguru’s fondness for the morning hours. waking up to his soft snores and content expression was more than enough to give you the energy you needed to get out of bed; all sleepy and relaxed and pretty, with hazy morning sunrays kissing up his bare skin, caressing his messy bedhead.

a rare sight, awfully precious. a part of you wanted to stay in bed and admire him all morning, but the thought of taking care of him coaxed you into leaving. it’s the least you could do, really — after seeing him so sincere, so open and vulnerable.

hopefully, his headache won’t be too brutal when he wakes up. you left some hangover pills on the nightstand, courtesy of shoko’s advice: just get him ibuprofen and coffee. works like a charm. are you a little worried about her nonchalance? maybe. but you trust her judgement. they’re a handful, but you love them — even when they’re drunk or hungover.

which is why you’re standing in the kitchen, engulfed by the morning sunlight, in front of a sizzling pan. trying your very best not to burn the pancakes you’re making, patiently waiting for the coffee to be done.

in your blissful stupor, caught up with thoughts of suguru and breakfast and forevers, you don’t notice another presence coming up behind you.

two arms wrap around your waist, and a jaw attaches itself to the curve of your shoulder. you startle, a little, jolting at the contact — but then you recognize that telltale scent, the familiar weight of his arms, and immediately melt into the embrace.

suguru breathes out a raspy chuckle, amused at your surprise.

a sigh slips from your lips, content. ”good morning,” you hum, placing the palm of your hand on his forearm. suguru shifts a little, getting more comfortable as he leans against you. tenderly, not too much weight. he’s delicate like that.

”g’morning,” he rasps, leftover sleep clinging to the syllables. the usual smoothness of his voice is coupled with a deep, rough kind of tilt, one that always accompanies it in the morning. your heartbeat picks up, silently.

suguru smiles. dreamy, giddy, because you just looked so pretty, in the morning light, hair still a tad messy. humming happily, swaying slightly side to side. so irresistible. he’s beginning to understand why you love sleeping in so much; getting to wrap his arms around you like this, instead of the other way around, doesn’t feel bad at all.

he squeezes you just a little tighter, hoping it’ll convey his gratitude. there are holes in his memory, last night no more than a blurry sequence of still images, but some bits and pieces remain intact. he remembers getting drunk in a way he hasn’t since he made that bet with satoru back in high school — and he remembers that you were there to take care of him.

a smile tugs at his lips. a little giddy, butterflies erupting in his chest. he’s so damn lucky.

”thanks for taking care of me yesterday, sweetheart.”

a hum. you smile, sheepishly, patting his arm. ”don’t need to thank me for that. how do you feel?”

suguru smiles. you feel it, against your skin, a chaste kiss on your neck. ”better.”

the low purring of the coffee machine has stopped, but the sizzling of the pan remains. from beyond the opened windows, you can hear the chirping of cicadas, melodic and serene. singing a summery tune. both of you soak in the preciousness of the moment, the fragile silence, before suguru breaks it.

”everything from last night is kinda fuzzy,” he admits, clearing his throat. just a tad sheepish. you simply hum, a low noise of acknowledgement, and he continues. ”i don’t really remember anything… ’m sorry, baby. i hope i didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

your lips curl up into a tiny smile. such a sweetheart — always worrying about you. always so caring and attentive. eager to reassure him, you smooth over the skin of his arm with your thumb. ”not at all.”

then you’re taking a couple steps back, moving from the stove, and suguru follows. you turn yourself around to meet his gaze, his arms still attached to your waist, a comforting weight.

a grin blooms on your lips, a little teasing, and a flicker of mischief shines in your eyes. ”you were cute, you know.”

suguru blinks, before emitting a low chuckle. a raspy little thing. ”was i?” he drawls, as you brush his bangs away from his face.

”mhm,” you chirp, eyes crinkled as they meet his own. you just can’t help but want to tease him, a little bit. just a smidge. ”kept going on and on about how much you love us.”

hands moving to cup his face, you squeeze his cheeks softly. and suguru lets you, too tired to resist, only giving you a lazy raise of his brow. there’s a sense of amusement in his eyes, and something in you knows he likes the attention. your teasing words buzz with endearment, akin to a purr. ”my sweet lil’ sugu.”

all he does is lean into your touch, allowing himself to melt into the tenderness of the physical contact. even as you pull at his cheek, earning you a very gentle pinch to your side. but he lets you have your fun. you’re warm, and sweet, and he’s so in love with you he’d probably let you tug his body around however you please.

still, your words leave him just slightly perplexed. he’s still smiling with half-lidded eyes when he asks you to elaborate, basking in the feeling of your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. ”us?”

your grin widens, by a tad, something deeply amused glimmering in the depths of your iris. ”yep,” you answer, popping the p. for some reason, suguru dreads the teasing edge to your voice. ”me, and shoko, and satoru.”

a moment passes. he stiffens, for a second or two, mind processing the words. then he groans, softly, squeezing his eyes shut.

it makes you laugh, soft and amused, and he can’t help but smile along. despite the dreadful realization you present him with. no wonder he was met with so many notifications when he tapped at the screen of his phone — he didn’t read through any of them, but now he’s apprehensive to do so at all. shoko and satoru can be so goddamn obnoxious when they feel as if they have blackmail on him.

he can see it now, in his mind’s eye; shoko nagging him to run her errands, satoru reminding him of his words every time they have a slight disagreement.

(grab me a coffee. three shots of espresso, one cube of sugar. got it?)

slacker.

(we both know i’m right. don’t be so stubborn, suguru! it’s okay to be wrong sometimes.)

asshole.

(c’mon. you said you loved me, right?

so mean. and here i thought you loved me!)

idiots.

(he does love them. more than anything. even when they’re being absolutely insufferable.)

suguru just sighs, deep and fatigued, already anticipating his doom. ”they’re never gonna let me live it down, are they?”

a giggle slips from your lips, and his heart flutters helplessly. ”probably not. my condolences.”

another sigh. it only makes your smile widen. there’s something awfully delighted, in your eyes, as you cradle his face in your hands. ”well, i thought you were very sweet!”

”yeah, yeah…” he mutters, vaguely amused. placing one of his large palms over your hand, where it rests on his cheek. ”i won’t be doing that again anytime soon.”

a chuckles bubbles up from within your throat. ”aww,” you pout, giving way to a teasing grin. ”that’s a shame. i wanted to hear you talk about how much you love me again.”

suguru blinks.

then he smiles. a very particular smile, characteristic, one you’ve come to associate solely with him. resting somewhere in the intersection between a soft grin and a teasing smirk. a flicker of mischief shines in his eyes, and you realize your mistake.

you can tease suguru all you want; but he'll always turn the tables on you, at the end of the day.

”oh?” he chuckles, fondly, thumb smoothing over the lines of your hand. his eyes gleam, looking straight into yours, shining with something mildly devilish. ”i don’t need to get drunk to tell you that, baby.”

in a smooth motion, one you can’t help but silently envy, suguru intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips. he never once breaks eye contact, gaze heavy as he basks in your flustered expression, planting a soft kiss against your knuckle. reverent.

”i love you. more than anything,” he purrs, lips still lingering on your skin. warm enough to burn. ”you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

a pause. heat crawls up your spine, and a flush rises to your cheeks. you couldn’t stop it if you tried.

”my everything,” he continues, intent on flustering you as much as humanly possible. voice low and smooth, honeyed and deep, and worst of all; terribly earnest. lips trailing over your knuckles, against every knot, so soft that you barely feel it. ”my entire world.”

”okay, okay!” you sputter, an embarrassed hue to your cheeks, your gaze landing on the windowpane to your right. his stare is just too heavy, too deeply in love. overwhelming. ”point taken. nevermind.”

suguru laughs, genuine and full. warm and amused, deep and real, and you catch yourself thinking that you don’t want to go a single day without hearing it. even if it’s at your own expense.

a coo rests on his the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back, opting to lean forward instead. he trails the pads of his fingers along your jaw, touch like a butterfly, lifting your chin up ever so slightly. then he closes the distance between you.

in your throat, your breath hitches.

— but he doesn’t kiss you. suguru stops right in front of your lips, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, taking a moment to simply look into your eyes. and despite how flustered the close proximity makes you, you can’t bring yourself to look away. heart fluttering madly, a string of staccatos against your parted ribs.

a tilt of his head. amber eyes gleaming, crinkled and fond. ”can i kiss you, now?” he asks, grinning softly. hand smoothing down your hip, big and warm, teasing. ”i made sure to brush away all the alcohol. or do you still not want to?”

you pause.

”hey, what happened to not remembering anything?” you pout, narrowing your eyes. the corner of suguru’s bottom lip twitches upwards.

but he only shrugs, feigning nonchalance, a playful glint in his eyes. ”guess i was just that disappointed.”

a giggle flows from your lips. he drinks it in, gazing at you with pure contentment.

”alright, alright... c’mere,” you coo, smile honeyed and sweet. tracing your fingertips along his jaw, brushing a silky strand of hair behind his ear. you take in the sight of him, meeting his lovesick gaze. he squeezes at your hips softly, a little impatient — so you finally lean in.

suguru’s lips are warm, when they meet yours. they taste like sunlight, devoid of any alcoholic flavour, just like he so kindly assured you of. and it’s a little amusing, the thought of him in front of the bathroom sink — desperately scrubbing his teeth, just to get his kissing privileges back. such a dork.

he’s your dork, though.

suguru sighs into the kiss, smiling giddily, satisfied at last. a sound you can’t help but mirror. he deepens it, ever so slightly, fingers squeezing gently at the plush of your waist. a hum of approval buzzes in your throat, and his smile only grows.

when he pulls away, that smile is all you can see, along with the ever so slight flush to his cheeks. a hint of peach dusting his skin, framed by the sunrays caressing his jaw, highlighting his handsome features. breathtaking.

before you have a chance to protest, he’s leaning in again, to press one more chaste kiss to your lips. your heartbeat picks up.

everything finally feels just right.

the warmth of the sizzling pan, the fragrance of freshly made coffee and now-burnt pancakes. the light of the morning sun, scattered across the open space of your apartment, splotches of life painting everything in a heavenly glow. the love in the air, all soft and light and comfortable.

domestic bliss. with suguru, who never seems to change, no matter how many years go by. if you could live in this moment for the rest of your life, forever and ever, you’re sure you’d die happy.

and wow, is that a heavy word. forever.

(but suguru makes it feel so very, very light.)

forever feels a lot more real, like this. cradled in the midst of a drowsy morning, bumping elbows with the man you love most, after getting to take care of him in his most vulnerable state. accepting every part of him, and having him accept you just as fervently.

just this moment alone is worth far more than you could ever comprehend.

suguru, with his warm hands, his familiar embrace. your shared laughter, bouncing off the walls of the kitchen as you try in vain to save your scorched pancakes. and his smile, his fervent devotion, coaxing him into eating them even though they’re burnt at the edges and don’t taste even a quarter as good as his. because you made them, for him, and that makes them taste sweeter than anything.

you stare at him, from across the table, admiring the sight you’ve grown so used to; suguru, with his slightly tousled hair, mug in hand and smile painted on his handsome face. drowned in sunlight, pink petals flitting in through the opened window. you don’t want a single day to ever pass without you seeing this. what does that mean, exactly? you think you know.

it means forever.

(forever, forever, forever. what a pretty word.)

marriage. you think of it, again, let it linger in the depths of your skull, bounce around until you grow just a little more used to it. and it’s a scary thought, for sure. a terrifying thought, even, something so foreign that it makes you nervous. but you truly wouldn’t mind doing this forever — not one bit. not if it’s with him.

and, unbeknownst to you, maybe that promise of forever isn’t all that far off.

maybe it’s only a couple rooms away, hidden within the depths of a certain drawer, until suguru finally gets the courage to bring it out. and maybe, just maybe — that day isn’t all that far off, either.

(suguru smiles at you, from across the table. he thinks you look ethereal, sipping from your morning coffee, blinking tiredly. so sweet and angelic.

all he can think of is forever.)

#finalllyyyyyyy took the time to finish this r u proud of me 👉👈#im very very soft for this sugu in particular :< kinda takes place in the same universe as the breakfast sugu fic !!!!#he’s ur smitten husband-to-be <333 i love to see suguru geto thrive and be happy i think being a househusband could save him #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #jjk fluff #geto fluff #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

2K notes · View notes

vandme12 · 5 months ago

Note

This has been rotting in my head for so long, how would the KC cast react to a powerful figure Mc? Ronin added mc because he just thought they were a writer needing inspiration, but what if they were actually a big influential figure in politics, media etc? Maybe they’ve hired Misaki before to get rid of someone? Maybe V knows them from charity meetings? How would it all unfold?

I really loved writing this! Whoever asked, Please ask me more head canons! The concept, would be they're a powerful "person" who usually gets people to kill off "bad" people! This is my longest head canon!

Ronin Beaufort!

At first, you were just a fun little distraction. Some writer looking for inspiration in the darkest parts of the world? Yeah, yeah, he’s heard that one before. But you were flirty, sharp, and a little too comfortable around him, which made you interesting.

So, he let you stick around. Took you to some bloody, brutal places, spun his words like knives, toyed with you just to see if you’d flinch.

But you didn’t.

You kept up. You even pushed back.

And damn it, he loved that.

You made things fun.

So fun, in fact, that he didn’t question it. Didn’t stop to wonder how you were able to navigate his world so easily, how you had this natural charisma that could turn heads, how your words carried weight in a way that felt… important.

He didn’t put the pieces together—until he saw your face on the news.

He’s at some dive bar, half-watching the TV, when he sees it. Some big political scandal. Some business shake-up. And right there, center screen, is you.

Your name. Your title. Your power.

His brain short-circuits.

He just stares for a good five seconds, drink frozen halfway to his lips.

“What.”

Immediate, sharp, loud laughter.

“Oh, what the FUCK?! You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

He’s laughing so hard he slaps the bar. The bartender jumps. Other people in the bar look at him like he’s crazy.

Because of course. Of course, the one person he’s been dragging into the worst places, letting into his world, kissing, touching, —

Is actually one of the most powerful people in the world.

The moment he gets his laughter under control, he’s grinning. Big. Sharp. Wild.

“Well, well, well. Ain’t this a fuckin’ surprise.”

The next time he sees you? Oh, he is not letting you live this down.

He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself.

“Sooo, babe. Anythin’ you wanna tell me? Y’know, like—what the fuck?”

If you try to act casual about it? He grabs your chin, tilts your head up, and just grins.

“Nah, nah, don’t gimme that. You mean to tell me I’ve been callin’ you ‘sweetheart’ and sneakin’ you into crime scenes, when I should’ve been callin’ you Boss?”

If you flirt back? Oh, he eats that shit up.

“Ohoho, you’re playin’ dangerous now, darlin’. You know what happens to people who turn me on and surprise me? Bad, bad things.”

He’s so into this.

Like, obnoxiously into it.

He starts calling you titles sarcastically.

“Ahh, my beloved CEO, let me open the door for ya.”

“Oh no, did my precious politician have a rough day? C’mere, lemme make it all better.”

“D’you think world leaders would shit themselves if they knew you were makin’ out with a serial killer? ‘Cause that’s funny as hell.”

But beneath the teasing? Oh, he’s obsessed.

He already thought you were a perfect match for him, but now?

Now, you’re not just smart. Not just dangerous in your own way.

You’re untouchable.

Bottom line? He is so in love with you it’s disgusting.

You’re powerful, you’re dangerous, and you’re his.

And that? That’s all he ever needed to know..

“So, what’s the play here, sweetheart? You gonna bring me down? Put me in the headlines? C’mon, gimme a scandal—make it a good one.”

If you tell him you have no intention of exposing him, that you’re here for your own reasons, he’s intrigued.

“Ahhh, so you’re just a little freak, huh? Love that for you.”

“So, tell me, baby—how’s it feel, bein’ the most dangerous person in the room for once?”

And when you smirk and say, “I’m always the most dangerous person in the room,”—Oh.

Oh, he loves you. Because it’s true, isn’t it? Ronin might be a killer, but you—you have real power. The kind of power that doesn’t need a knife to cut people down. AND that? That’s hot as hell.

Misaki

At first, Misaki thought you were just some random writer that Ronin picked up for fun. Maybe you were looking for inspiration in the darkest corners of the world, and hey, Misaki could respect that.

Until, one day, they’re watching TV in their bunker, shoveling cup noodles into their mouth, and—

Your face is on the news.

Immediate choking.

They nearly drop the noodles.

They stare.

Blink once. Twice.

Wait. What the fuck.

They scramble for the remote, turn the volume up, and suddenly, their world is spinning.

"HOLD ON—"

Because there you are, center screen, name plastered in bold letters. Some scandal, some massive political shift, some media shake-up—and at the heart of it all? You.

The person they’ve been flirting with. The person they’ve been spending nights with in calls.

"WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, BACK THE HELL UP—!"

They’re gripping their head, pacing their bunker, absolutely spiraling.

“You mean—you mean to tell me I’ve been flirting with someone who can LITERALLY change the world?! Oh my god—oh my god, I’m so broke, I can’t handle this—"

The next time they see you? They’re standing there, arms crossed, clearly trying to look intimidating but failing miserably because their face is still stuck in pure existential crisis mode.

“Sooo. You got anythin’ you wanna tell me, boss?”

If you just smirk and go, “Oh? You didn’t know?”

They groan loudly.

"OF COURSE I DIDN’T KNOW, YOU JERK! Oh my god, I was out here thinking you were some struggling writer, and now you’re telling me you could probably buy my entire life with a single check?!"

Cue another breakdown.

And if you’ve hired them before? Oh. Oh, that’s interesting.

“Hold on—wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me I’ve been talking to one of my clients this whole time?!”

They go through a full existential crisis.

But once the initial shock wears off? They’re intrigued.

“Okay, okay, but real talk—why the hell are you hanging out with us? You could be anywhere, doing anything, running the world, and yet, you’re here. Why?”

If you flirt with them? They malfunction.

“H-Hey, don’t distract me! This is serious! You—wait, what do you mean I look cute when I’m panicking?! That’s—STOP.”

But deep down? They FEEL KYAH!

If you say something like “Because I like you”

—They malfunction.“LIES. YOU’RE A LIAR. DON’T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT—”

But deep down? They’re kicking their feet.Because holy shit.

Someone that important thinks they’re important.

It’s the worst and best thing to ever happen to them.

Angel

At first, Angel just thought you were another charismatic, ambitious person—someone drawn into her orbit the way most people were. She didn’t question it too much. You were charming, clever, and played along with her public persona so well it was almost addictive.

Then, one day, she sees you on the news. Not in the background. Not as a guest. You are the news.

Maybe you’re a political powerhouse, a media mogul, an elite CEO—whatever it is, you’re big.

Cue an instant mental shutdown. She’s staring at the screen, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, and for once in her life, completely speechless.

“… Wait, wait, wait. What?!”

First, she replays every conversation the two of you have ever had, wondering how she missed the signs.

Second, she assumes you just didn’t tell her because… well, why would you? She wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

Third? Immediate concern.

Because she knows powerful people. She’s been around them.

And most of them are monsters.

But you? You’ve always been kind to her. Sweet. Playful. The same way she is with you.

…So why does this still feel like a dream?

When you finally come home, Angel is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, a frown on her lips—but her eyes are soft.

"Sooo…" she tilts her head. "Is this the part where you tell me I’ve been secretly dating royalty, or—?"

You try to explain, but she just leans closer.

"And when, exactly, were you gonna tell me that you're kind of a big deal?"

Pout. Full pout.

But she’s not actually mad. Just incredibly intrigued.

The more she learns about your influence, the more protective she gets.

She knows the price of power. She knows the pressure. The weight. The expectations.

And she knows what it’s like to need approval.

She’s quiet for a moment before reaching for your hand.

“Are you happy?” Her voice is gentle.

You nod, but she studies your face carefully, trying to find the cracks.

“You promise?”

If you squeeze her hand, reassure her? She melts.

She wants to believe you. So badly.

Angel is soft with you in ways she isn’t with the world.

She may be a perfectionist. She may be needy for attention. But with you?

She doesn’t have to perform.

She can just… be.

And that’s a rare, precious thing.

And she will make fun of you for the way you talk in "serious mode."

"Ooooh, look at you~ all professional and intimidating~"

But deep down? She’s proud.

She just expresses it through teasing.

She knows power changes people.

And she worries about that. About what it might do to you.

But she also loves you too much to let it push her away.

“No matter how big or important you are…” she murmurs, curling up against you. “You’re still mine.”

And honestly? There’s no one else in the world she’d rather love.

The moment, you open your video feed to see him for the first time he knows who you are.

V already knows who you are.

He’s rich. Powerful. Connected. No one reaches his radar without him knowing everything about them.

So when your face appears on his screen, he isn’t surprised.

What surprises him is the fact that you recognize him, too.

You tilt your head, lips curling into an amused smirk.

“Mr Valentin Viljoen, right? We’ve met before.”

His eyes narrow slightly. “Yes. And you are—”

“I'm your kind!” you interrupt smoothly, leaning back in your chair. “Without ever spilling a drop of blood.”

That makes him pause.

His posture tenses. Just for a second.

Because… that’s not wrong.

He’s seen your name in places that matter—a ghost behind the curtains of power.

You don’t get blood on your hands.

You hire people to do it for you.

At first, he’s wary.

You are the kind of person he hunts. The kind who orchestrates death while keeping their hands clean.

The kind that believes their cause justifies the means.

And yet…

You don’t silence everyone. You don’t kill for profit or ego.

You kill corrupt politician. The ones who slip through the cracks of the system. Like him.

He watches you closely after that.

“You play God,” he says one night, his voice measured. “Deciding who lives and who dies.”

You meet his gaze, unshaken.

“So do you.”

The two of you challenge each other constantly.

You push him to see the necessity of what you do.

He pushes you to consider the weight of it.

“Your assassins are no different than the people I kill,” he says coldly. “They’re just a tool you use to maintain control.”

You hum thoughtfully. “And you’re just a weapon that wields itself.”

Silence.

A game of chess with no clear winner.

But there’s one thing he can’t ignore.

You don’t kill the innocent.

Your network, your power—it’s built on a foundation of purpose.

And whether he likes it or not…

You’re not the villain he expected.

He watches you more than he should.

He listens to how smoothly you speak, how effortlessly you manipulate a conversation without a single lie.

He hates how drawn he is to it.

“You play dangerous games,” he mutters one night.

You smirk. “So do you.”

And he hates that you’re right.

He’s used to keeping his distance.

But you make that impossible.

The sharp way you tease him, the way you dance on the edge of his moral code.

It gets under his skin.

“What the hell are you?” you ask one night, head tilted. “A hero? A killer?”

His lips press into a thin line.

“What are you?” he counters.

It happens slowly.

At first, he tells himself he’s just keeping an eye on you.

But then it becomes habit.

Seeking your voice, waiting for your messages, analyzing your movements.

He finds himself protecting you before he even realizes why.

Because the moment someone tries to take you down?

He’s already one step ahead.

“You should leave,” he mutters after taking care of a hitman sent after you. “Disappear.”

You laugh softly. “And let them win?”

His jaw clenches.

He should walk away from you.

But he won’t.

Because for all his righteousness…

He can’t let you go.

385 notes · View notes

peachhcs · 8 months ago

Text

through the feeds → social media post

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy x will)

some jumbled together recent posts on instagram from samy & the crew!

wanted to change some things up, so here’s some social media discourse from everyone & what they’ve been doing lately & probably the longest social media fic i’ve done (can u spot the mention of my other au that i haven't worked on since like february😭)

au masterlist

samyhughes some of summer & some of first sem

view all comments

user1 and she’s eating as always

user2 love love loveeee herrrr

hannahduke and she’s eating! and she’s slaying! mama..a hot girl behind you!

| samyhughes PEAK brain rot u are so funny

| hannahduke yeah i know don’t have to tell me 😌

| nick.moldenhauer i know that’s right!

| samyhughes get out of my comments with that

edwards.73 wow she's all grown up can't believe it

| samyhughes what am i gonna do without u next year 🥲

| edwards.73 don't remind me.

teddystiga_ no will???

| samyhughes he was in my last post

user3 wowowo ur gorg actually i wanna be u

user4 to be samy hughes wow

jameshagens_4 pro golfer right here

| samyhughes yeah i know what can i sayyyy

lhughes_06 where am i?? jack?? quinn? will?

| samyhughes dawg we barely took any pics together this summer u can't be talking

markestapa our sophomore ❤️

| samyhughes our senior citizen ❤️

zeevbuium28 damn what did will do to u 💔

| samyhughes plsssss he did nothing i swear

_quinnhughes come back to van

| samyhughes buy my ticket? 😁

ryan.leno_4 wow she's so michigan

| samyhughes wow i am

julianne_gelinas come back to boston we miss u

| samyhughes SEE YA THANKSGIVING!

jackhughes kind of hurt i'm not featured but when tf did u go golfing??

| samyhughes with will 🤗

| jackhughes bruh so u can go with him and not us

user5 will's so luckyyyy

user6 if samy has no fans i'm dead

gabeperreault44 wow these are good!

| samyhughes wow thanks gp! see ya in boston next week

rutgermcgroarty making me miss mich

| samyhughes it's not the same without u

kayleighdocherty_ sooo pretty samy!

| samyhughes love u kay!

aram_minnetian justice for my man wow

| samyhughes @_willsmith2 pls tell them i still love you

| _willsmith2 she doesn't love me anymore

user7 she knowsss she's hot

user8 still can't believe she's dating will smith

mackcelebrini san jose visit soon?

| samyhughes in the off season!

beckettsennecke_ make that san jose visit an anaheim one as well

| samyhughes on it!

_willsmith2 wow ur so cool

| samyhughes no way u too

_willsmith2 i'm in love with you

| samyhughes i'm in love with YOU come see me soon

_willsmith2 all good things 〽️📍

view all comments

gabeperreault44 FIRST LIKE

gabeperreault44 wow ok made the cut on last pic i guess??

gabeperreault44 THREE photos of samy and ONE of me...damn..

gabeperreault44 ALSO 5th pic???? crazyyyyyy but we know what u guys were up to...😏

| _willsmith2 four comments? new record for you. at least u made the cut and what can i say? i love my girlfriend

ryan.leno_4 we ALLL know why u posted pics 4 and 5..

| _willsmith2 shut up

lhughes_06 i can't believe my sister makes the instagram more than i do now.

| _willsmith2 sorry moosey 😭

lhughes_06 i also don't approve of pic 5. i thought we talked about this and ur hands..

| _willsmith2 i plead the 5th

user1 WOW this man really loves his gf where is my hockey bf

user2 sooo why aren't all hockey men like this bc COME ON 3 photos for her in this post????

zeevbuium28 ur sooo down bad hahaha

| _willsmith2 and what about it

jameshagens_4 honestly i respect

| ryan.leno_4 at least u got a feature 😭

rutgermgroarty u should kiss me instead

| _willsmith2 on my way!

mackcelebrini tuff

| _willsmith2 🥱

user3 hand placement helloooooo

user4 hottest couple fr

user5 these are so cute waittt awww

user6 i love when guys post their gfs all the time

edwards.73 we were chilling until pic 5...

| _willsmith2 i'm sorry 😭

markestapa so when's the wedding?

| _willsmith2 😳

jackhughes just glad to see u both really happy

| _willsmith2 wait thanks rowdy

_quinnhughes he's all grown up now

| _willsmith2 see u again in 3 🫡

user7 will immediately apologizing when ethan calls him out LMAO so funny

hannahduke this is basically a samy fan account now

| samyhughes i told u he was obsessed with me

aram_minnetian incredible, outstanding, breathtaking

| _willsmith2 what i do best

drewf2 yk what? hell yeah i appreciate the grind

| samyhughes MORE BRAIN ROT i can't escape it

| _willsmith2 how is this even brain rot? 😭

| samyhughes u just don't get it

julianne_gelinas she def trained u well

| samyhughes can't make him look like couch guy

| _willsmith2 now that's brain rot

michaelhagens_11 bagged it frrr

| _willsmith2 100%

graceccsmith so cutie will

| _willsmith2 miss u gracie ❤️

samyhughes 3 features?? wow i feel so special

| _willsmith2 u for sure are

samyhughes yuppp we look good in pic 5 idk what people are talking about

| _willsmith2 me neither😻

gabeperreault44 threw in some archival finds

view all comments

_willsmith2 awkward thumbs up for the win

| gabeperreault44 i honestly don't even remember that pic

ryan.leno_4 wow throwback for sure

| gabeperreault44 is that sarcasm

| ryan.leno_4 what makes you say that

aram_minnetian woooowwww 1st pic...😏

| gabeperreault44 like it? 😛

user1 AWWW the 4th pic is adorable

user2 i always wonder what prompts them to add these pics into the photo dump

drewf2 good shit

| gabeperreault44 soph szn 🔥

jacob_fowler24 wow ur so cool fr

| gabeperreault44 am i?

emmagcooper wow these are great gabe!

| gabeperreault44 wow thanks em!

user3 i miss seing leno smitty and gp all together at bc

user4 doesn't feel the same without smitty there with them😭

user5 he's the cutest omg

hannahduke great photo choices gabe!

| gabeperreault44 thanks hannah!

liliane_perreault so cute gp! miss u

| gabeperreault44 miss u too lili

jameshagens_4 wow so aesthetic

| gabeperreault44 trying something new yk

| michaelhagens_11 be real emma chose half of these for him

| emmagcooper now who said that??

samyhughes AWWW i miss u gabo come to michigan soon

| gabeperreault44 only if u come to boston first

eamonpowell_ looking fresh gp!

| gabeperreault44 appreciate it e

jperreault_44 looking good brotha

| gabeperreault44 thanks jp

_willvote this good 🔥

| gabeperreault44 🔥 u know it

rutgermcgroarty might cheer for bc this year...

| gabeperreault44 bold of u to say that on here

ryan.leno_4 not a lot going on

view all comments

gabeperreault44 TUFF lean

| ryan.leno_4 keeping it quiet 🤫

_willsmith2 is this contract posting?

| ryan.lneo_4 does it seem like it?

user1 crazy photo lineup tbh

user2 so adorable actually

user3 i love reading everyone's comments they're so funny

drewf2 GETTT ITTT

| ryan.leno_4 climbing our way uppp

aram_minnetian wow ur hot leno

| ryan.leno_4 no u

julianne_gelinas these are interesting pics to pair together

| ryan.leno_4 if u hate me just say it

| julianne_gelinas ur so weird

user4 i lowk wish i was friends with all of them they seem so fun to be around

user6 this post screams hockey kid

rutgermcgroarty yuppp fresh

| ryan.leno_4 🥱

jameshagens_4 mhmm u know it

michaelhagens_11 woah who's that in 3rd pic 😏

teddystiga_ WOAH 3rd pic...mhm

| gabeperreault44 i gyatt to know who it is

| samyhughes now this was crazy

| ryan.leno_4 😉

zeevbuium28 be mine? 😫

| ryan.leno_4 i'm taken already

samyhughes no julianne feature is criminal

| julianne_gelinas that's what i'm saying

| ryan.leno_4 pls don't cancel me

jacob_fowler24 u should marry me instead lean

| ryan.leno_4 tempting offer but i have to refuse

hannahduke i can't figure out the vibe of this tbh

| ryan.leno_4 it's ok u don't need to figure it out

_willvote my idol

| ryan.leno_4 ur my idol

hannahduke 3's my lucky number

view all comments

samyhughes ur KIDDING i love u

| hannahduke i LOVE U BABE

julianne_gelinas hotttttt omg

| hannahduke that's literally all u

user1 damn all of these friends are so good looking

user2 what does it take to be a part of this friend group?

nick_moldenhauer mich year 2

| hannahduke i love mich

dylanduke25 ur ugly

| hannahduke alright.

tyler__duke5 twin

| hannahduke my twin

kayleighdocherty_ literally adorable hannah

| hannahduke love uuuuu

alyssa_duke AWWW han i miss u so much ur so cute

| hannahduke miss u too lyss ❤️

user3 hannah duke > dylan and tyler

| user4 LMAOOOOOO

gabeperreault44 tuff hannah

| samyhughes these comments from them confuse me

| hannahduke no same

ryan.leno_4 nice rainbow

| hannahduke isn't it nice?

zeevbuium28 soo group meetup when?

| hannahduke ask miss hughes when we're going to the lake house @samyhughes

| samyhughes texting jack and quinn rn

_willsmith2 i see we're competing for the most samy feature rn...

| hannahduke oh i didn't know this turned into a competition.

| samyhughes guysss don't fight over me

samyhughes me and this team #team30 let's keep it coming 〽️

view all comments

gabeperreault44 this is 100% contract posting

| samyhughes ok and?

ryan.leno_4 ur so obvious when u contract post

| samyhughes bruhhh leave me alone

hannahduke woo super proud of u!!!

rutgermcgroarty ok contract posting

lhughes_06 NCAA TITLE SOON!!!

| samyhughes FINGERS CROSSED!

_quinnhughes wow!! #featureher #fyp

| samyhughes wow musical.ly core

user1 #1 PLAYERRR

user2 wishing the best for her national title soon!

user3 this girl does it all wow

user4 i wish i had the brains, the boy, the skill, the friends, the looks

kayleighdocherty_ YEAHH kill it!!

jackhughes taught u well 🥱

| samyhughes 🫡

edwards.73 wait i'm gonna miss watching u play

| samyhughes now don't get emotional or else i'll be emotional

markestapa gonna miss these friday-saturday-sunday 3-4 bender weekends

| samyhughes gonna miss watching u and eth sprint from the yost to the stands

seamuscasey26 supa cool little hughes

julianne_gelinas she's so cool and awesome omg

| samyhughes no that's u

jameshagens_4 ohhh she's a soccer starrr

| samyhughes ohhhhh

zeevbuium28 remember me when ur famous

| samyhughes for sure z dw

g.brindley4 coolest hughes!

| lhughes_06 now that's offensive

jacob_trucott20 i always knew i had a favorite hughes sibling

| lhughes_06 alright

aram_minnetian still no will feature damn

| samyhughes plsss give me a break

_willsmith2 ur actually the coolest wow

| samyhughes we can tie for 1st

mackcelebrini i had no idea u played soccer

| samyhughes shut up

beckettsennecke_ my inspiration

| samyhughes 😌

teddystiga_ yupppp love a good sports post

| samyhughes had to change it up

y’all lmk if u want more bc i love doing these 🙂‍↕️

182 notes · View notes

laurabenanti · 4 months ago

Text

gather 'round, children — let auntie ryan tell you the tales of 750kb gif limits and like spamming your mutuals...

15 years! truly, what a wild ride it has been. while my original blog was deleted, i have been rolling around on this site since 2010, and that makes this my longest committed relationship! what has always kept me here are the girlies (/gn) in my phone that suffer along the same line of brain rot as me, and to commemorate this... feat of tumblr-ing, i'm doing a little celebration.

to participate, please be following me, and send over an ask with one of the prompts below (mutuals can submit more than one):

🍒 + a color & a show/movie/character/etc.

🍋 + make me choose

🍑 + a quote/song/poem/etc. for a surprise (if you need i.n.s.p; mutuals only)

if the media/character/etc in question is on my blog, it's fair game (use the search function to double check if in doubt)! i ask for a little patience in the turnaround time, but you will be tagged once it's posted.

feel free to reblog this post; and here's to however much longer we have on this insane website 🥂

in no particular order, some very amazing people i am honored to be mutuals with (regardless of if we talk or not!) below the cut:

@imogens-temult @rosamundpkes @sculien @khaotungthanawat @elssbethtascioni

@eddiediaaz @maines @alicenthighstower @guildfordd @robin-buckely

@rhaencents @trueloveistreacherous @maines @billysjoel @antoniosvivaldi

@jackietaylors @fawad-khan @userobiwan @madeline-kahn @nataliescatorccio

@danburys @singinprincess @sersi @beetlejuce @aenslem

@lemon-lyman @crowley-anthony @dramatical @alexisrosemullens @muldery

@agathaharknes @dramatical @arobarbie @deadpoets @violet-bridgerton

@tommykinard @djarin @ruanbaijie @vidalharkness @berthas-russells

@darcylightninglewis @bo-kryzze @zen-dayas @shadowhaert @jinxviolets

@miwtual @userpeggycarter @chikoriita @misty-quigley @cressidascowper

i know there are a few listed i have not spoken to/very briefly spoken to, but i didn't want to miss anyone (i probably still did, curse you limits!!).

#*15yr #i am really showing my age here BUT it's good it's fine #carolook #saharzahids #tenaciousarcadeexpert #tuserhol #userahri #useraljoscha #userpriyas #usertenacious

101 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year ago

Text

The Rite of Movement | part two

“first impressions”

part one | honeymoonin’

A/N: well, well, well, fancy that we’re all meeting up here, huh? 🥵 first, I just wanted to give a big thank you to @itsokbbygrl who has been feeding my brain rot all day. I appreciate you so so much and your input is extremely helpful 🥺 I do not have a lot of knowledge on the adult film industry, but I’m eager to dive into it with y’all. We all have our different preferences and tastes when it comes to porn, (if you choose to watch it) but for me personally, I’m into porn that is catered to women. And guess who else is? Joel fuckin’ Miller! I hope these impromptu drabbles give you all the warm, fuzzy, and hornknee feelings. In this household, we support sex workers 💗 we also support healthy communication during sex, safe sex, and sexual liberation for everyone. Thank u also to @strang3lov3 for the title 🤍

~word count: 5.0k~

Summary: it’s your first time meeting Joel Miller, your new adult film partner

Pairing | pornstar!joel miller x pornstar f!reader (and a sprinkle of pornstar!tommy miller. More to come in later chapters!)

Warnings: 30s reader/40s joel, general discussions of the porn industry, brief discussions of workplace trauma, mild swearing, kissing, slightly inappropriate workplace relationship, boss/employee power dynamic but it’s only lightly explored in this chapter, voyeurism, light smut, f!masturbation, reader has no physical descriptions, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol consumption, +18, minors dni! Let me know if I missed anything!

When you moved back to Austin Texas looking for a fresh start after a rather rocky experience doing unsatisfying pornos as a regular on screen talent for the mega studio, Brazzers, you never expected to rejoin the industry through a professional studio. After being fired, you settled on making solo amateur films in an attempt to pay your bills and make ends meet. The only problem was rent in LA was nowhere near affordable, and the pay was significantly less than you’d been bringing in from the studio. That’s when you made the decision to leave the state of California entirely, looking eastward towards a once-familiar home.

Your roots were in rural Texas, and although your parents ultimately disowned you for joining the adult film industry, you still had a support group of fellow transplants in Austin that had missed you terribly.

The porn industry was always evolving, but with these changes came an influx of new content. You had a decent following for a small time account, but without the promotion budget that came with films produced at larger studios, your homemade solo films were inevitably pushed to the bottom of the pecking order, making it difficult to expand your audience. You thought about quitting entirely and getting an everyday job as a receptionist at some corporate office, until one night you stumbled upon a channel account that was based in Austin. “Miller-Co, Real people, real sex, professionally produced for your pleasure.” Surrounded by unpacked moving boxes on your single, sad, sofa, you poured yourself a tall glass of wine and clicked on the first video that appeared on the channel’s page, its male lead catching your eye immediately and you clicked the video details to find his name.

Joel Miller was big in every possible sense. From his hands, to his biceps, to his strong thighs. His cock was stunning. It wasn’t the longest cock you had ever seen, but it was deliciously thick, a girth that had you salivating immediately. Not only was it big, but the more you watched, the more you learned he sure knew how to use it. Despite Joel’s brooding nature, his attentive care to his partners on screen was something you had never seen before. He was a talker, a praiser and it seemed he only did scenes in positions where he could see his partners face while they came. The studio lighting was softer, inviting, and very, very intimate.

You clicked through more videos. Joel’s apparent brother, Tommy Miller, was also a big talker, but he reminded you more of a sweet frat boy with some serious golden retriever energy. In simple terms, Tommy liked to pound it. His style seemed more physically intense and fun, lighthearted even. He could do more sensual, intimacy based scenes, but that was more Joel’s forte, you gleaned as you continued to consume their content. Tommy’s cock had an inch or so on his brother, but his cock wasn’t as thick. What it lacked it girth it made up for with how it was curved, and you could only imagine how easy it would be for him to hit that spot inside of you that sent you keening.

The more you watched these two brothers in their element, the damper your flimsy panties grew. It had been so long since you had gotten off while watching porn that you weren’t even sure if you could have a successful orgasm from it. Boy, were you wrong.

Your clit was soon overstimulated and pulsing beneath the soft silicon of your vibrator. You tossed the toy to the side and paused the video while you caught your breath for a few minutes, coming down from your high. A sense of post-orgasmic clarity settled in your mind and something was telling you that working for this channel’s studio might end up being your calling. A wonderful, horny twist of fate. Your ticket back into the industry that had left you both emotionally and physically bruised.

You couldn’t help the gleeful giggle that slipped past your lips the further you scrolled down the channel’s main page, looking for information on Miller-Co’s parent studio, and discovered a link at the bottom: Auditions.

You scrambled to update your resumé, and threw together a portfolio of your past work and clicked on the link. You submitted your application and downed the rest of your wine before closing the screen to your laptop with a decompressing sigh.

No one could say that you didn’t try.

On the other side of town Joel Miller was just closing up the studio for the evening to meet Tommy at their usual watering hole for a drink. His phone buzzed, notifying him that he had a new email and while he walked to his truck, he opened the email.

He had been recently looking for a new film partner outside of his current talent pool. Things were going well at his and Tommy’s boutique adult film studio, they were starting to see growth, and that meant making sure there was regularly fresh content for their growing audience.

Despite receiving 100s of applicants a day from his online posting on his studio’s PornHub channel, none of them were quite what Joel was looking for..until he opened up your application. Joel got a sudden overwhelming feeling in his chest that you were exactly the type of on-screen partner he was looking for. He exited out of the email and sent a quick text to Tommy. Hey, I'm gonna be a few minutes late. Got an applicant that I think will be perfect.

After sending the text to his brother, he opened the email once more. Your resumé was brief, and a noticeable frown crossed over his face when he saw that you were ex-Brazzers. When Joel was 18 and fresh to the industry, he worked for Brazzers. Being so green, he hadn’t known what exactly to expect, so he suffered through in the name of independence and regular pay, but he had hated it, and especially hated the way it made him feel. The culture there had led him to never wanting to partake in making that type of porn again. There was no emphasis on the comfort of his female partners, little to no communication between the actors, and Joel ultimately was uncomfortable with following through with the things he was requested to do. Half the time it didn’t even feel good. And what the hell is the point of making porn if both participants aren’t having fun and feeling pleasure?

For this reason, he felt wrong viewing the content that you had made with Brazzers. Given his prior experience, he could only imagine what you had gone through, and he didn’t want to see you that way. His business was solely based around respect, consent, and comfort as a top priority.

He opted to view your solo amateur content instead. You were a natural, and he knew that he could easily make you a star, if that’s what you truly wanted. Joel knew that mixing pleasure with business, in this industry in particular, could end up messy, but he never felt so physically and emotionally attracted to another human being till now.

His fingers worked fast on the screen as he responded to the email.

Hello,

It’s after working hours for me, but I just went over your application. You’re a natural, and I would be extremely interested in meeting for an official audition. Here is the address to the studio, and my personal work number.

I am off tomorrow, but if you are interested, I can go ahead and schedule a meeting for noon?

Looking forward to hearing from you,

Joel Miller.

He receives an email response from you five minutes later just when he starts the engine of his truck.

Hello Joel,

I would absolutely be interested in coming in for an official audition tomorrow. Noon works for me as well.

See you then!

He lets out a sigh of relief at your response and despite his goal to remain professional, he can’t help the flush that rises to his cheeks at the thought of filming with you. He sends a calendar invite to your email address with the meeting time of noon tomorrow. He tosses his phone into the cup holder and finally drives to the bar.

“She’s ex-Brazzers. Moved all the way from LA just like you and me.” Joel discusses with Tommy over a beer. He takes a sip from the rim and slides his phone across the table to the opposite end of the booth where Tommy is sitting.

“And she’s only been doing solo amateur content as of late?”

“Yeah, she’s only got a few videos up, but it sounds like she’s ready to dip her toe back into the industry. She’s a natural, Tommy. Real captivatin’ on camera.”

Tommy glances down at your application and lightly taps out a bit of ash from his cigarette in the ashtray resting near his elbow. “That so? Well, guess I’m just gonna have to see for myself jus’ how captivatin’ she is.” He looked over at his brother with a knowing grin and pulled out his earbuds from his jacket pocket and slipped them in.

Joel intently observes his brother watching one of your solo films and when he sees Tommy reach down to adjust himself, he couldn’t help but grin.

Tommy’s cheeks have a bright flush to them as he hits pause on the video, taking out one of the earbuds and makes direct eye contact with his brother. “Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous. Those eyes? Brother, I feel like I was being sucked into the screen! God, and her little whimpers? The way they kept gettin’ higher and higher—” Tommy said animatedly.

Joel feels a twinge of jealousy zip up his spine like he was shocked. Tommy’s never been shy, and neither has Joel, but he’s already feeling protective over you and he hasn’t even met you yet. “Yeah, she is a thing of beauty, ain’t she? I don’t know what it is about her, but I love her energy.” Joel comments thoughtfully.

Tommy, being the horndog that he is, can't help but look back down at the screen and the part where the video has paused. Your thighs are spread wide, fingers playing with your clit, teasing yourself while making occasional direct eye contact with the camera. “And god, that pussy? Y’ever see somethin’ so pretty? Bet she tastes like fuckin’ honey.” Tommy drawls.

“Tommy.” Joel snaps his fingers in front of his face in a quick motion. “Don’t go gettin’ too excited now. I’m the one meetin’ with her.” Joel gently reminds him.

“Well, I can see why ya like her so much already, Joel.” He winks and slides the phone back in his direction. “Don’t go gettin’ your panties in a twist. I think just based on this single video, she’s gonna be a good fit. On a serious note, I hope that Brazzers didn’t fuck her up too much.” He reaches for his beer and takes a sip.

“It’s her energy man, it’s infectious. She seems so gentle, soft, but you can tell that she knows exactly what she wants just by looking into her eyes alone.” Joel said rather dreamily.

“Y’gonna give ‘er the ole Joel Miller razzle dazzle then?” Tommy wiggled his eyebrows playfully with a chuckle.

Joel rolled his eyes and flipped him off before taking another sip of his beer. “All depends on her comfort level during our first interaction. I want her to know that she gets to call all the shots.”

Tommy tips his beer towards Joel in a mock salute. “And yet they say chivalry is dead.”

At first you wonder if Miller-Co is just another too good to be true scam and Joel had played you, providing you with the wrong address on purpose. Maybe this was a sign for you to never try studio work in the adult film industry again. You were standing outside of a hardware store, triple checking the address while simultaneously looking up at the sign: Miller-Co

Joel is sitting behind his desk when he sees you teetering around outside. He checks the time on his watch—quarter to noon—and smiles. He’s a punctual person himself and always had this philosophy of showing up earlier than planned out of respect for everyone’s valuable time.

He gets up from his desk and walks towards the door just as you’re turning on your heel to walk away.

The door swings open behind you with a sweet chime, and then you hear the raspy timbre of his voice, his smooth southern accent that already has you feeling weak in the knees.

“Are you my 12 o’clock?” He grins a boyish grin that oozes a level of natural confidence and charm that men dream of possessing.

“Oh.” You laugh and fiddle with the strap on your purse. “I totally thought I had the wrong place for a second there.”

“Sorry ‘bout the confusion, darlin.’ Folks ‘round these parts can be…sensitive to what we’re doing here. Gotta be sure they ain’t have a clue what they’re walkin’ by, be discreet, y’know?” He holds the door open with his shoulder effortlessly, and you get a good look at his handsome features. Joel Miller is tall, well-groomed, and there’s something immediately comforting about him. You can’t quite put your finger on what that thing is, but it might have to do with the selfless energy that radiates from the depths of his soft, espresso colored eyes. Or maybe it’s the endearing heart-shaped patches in his gray speckled beard.

“Oh, thank god!” You laugh again, hoping he didn’t notice your staring, and he chuckles. Something flickers in your eyes that Joel registers as unabashed curiosity. He clocks the slight hitch of your breath, your pupils dilating.

“I take it you’re probably used to dingy warehouses, unkempt garages, and the occasional sketchy office building?” Joel quips. He slips one of his hands into the faded pocket of his denim jeans.

“Yeah, how did you know?” You retort with false sarcasm and a small smile.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Lucky guess?”

“Well, you didn’t not hit the nail on the head, Mr. Miller.”

You swear you see him blush, the tops of his cheeks turning a flushed pink color. “Oh, please, call me Joel, darlin’. Mr. Miller makes me feel so..old.” He laughs and subtly gestures to the open door. “And hope ya don’t mind me sayin’ this, but ain’t you jus’ the sweetest n’ prettiest thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of layin’ my eyes on.” He winks. “Shall we?”

“Oh, please, you aren’t old at all, Joel,” you brush away his self deprecation as his compliment leaves you feeling flustered, the heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. “So, your videos weren’t lying then? You really are a sweet talker?” You flirt back.

“Some days I feel like I am, got a bad back and ‘a that. And, oh, I am quite the sweet talker, darlin’.” He holds the door open for you as you slip past him, brushing up against the rough denim of his jeans due to his sheer mass taking up most of the entryway.

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach when your eyes zone in on an all-to familiar black leather couch pressed up against the side of the wall. He notices your immediate discomfort and hesitation and clears his throat alongside you. “We uh—don’t film anythin’ on that, darlin’. It’s there more as a joke than anythin’.”

He sees you visibly let out a sigh of relief as your shoulders relax. You don’t see his face, but his lips are set in a deep frown and he genuinely feels bad. “There’s no leather couches or bright, headache inducin’ lights where I film, darlin’,” he adds softly and steps around you to pull back the chair at his desk.

You’re not even sure what to think or say as he pulls the chair back and you quietly sit down and watch as he sits across from you. “Hey, before we get into talkin’ business, I’m aware that you worked for Brazzers at one point, saw it on the application you submitted, and I jus’ wanted to let you know that me sayin’ ‘lucky guess’ back there was to ease your nerves. I understand what it’s like coming from that world, could tell that you were feelin’ a bit apprehensive, and I didn’t wanna jump right on into discussing your portfolio out in the open, y’know?” He held steady eye contact with you which was something that you normally would be intimidated by, but Joel wasn’t trying to make you feel small, his concern was genuine.

“It’s just been awhile for me since working there, but I appreciate you trying to ease the tension, Joel. I swear I’m not always this jumpy,” you add softly and he smiles.

“S’alright. I understand. I jus’ wanna start off by sayin’ that I want you to be comfortable, darlin’. That’s our first priority. We can film in the studio if you want. Now, personally, I never film here. All feels a bit too sterile for me; got a set up at home to film there. Feels more natural, but if you would rather be here, we can make that work.” He clicks a few buttons on the desktop mouse and pulls up your application so he has it to directly reference.

“Your first priority is that you want me to be comfortable?” The question tumbles past your lips and your pupils are blown wide. In past jobs your comfort was always pushed to the very bottom. It was viewed as insignificant and something that you were told you’d just have to suck up and get over. There was always a limited budget, which meant limited time, which meant little care given to anything other than hard and fast, turn and burn shoot days. And the studio executives cared about little except increasing profits year over year, so time and time again, you’d endured a lack of connection with your scene partners and set crew alike, never more than a quick direction thrown your way. No, comfortable was a far cry from what you were used to.

He’s not taken aback by your response at all. It’s something that he’s all-too familiar with, unfortunately. “Of course, darlin’. That’s the key to makin’ good porn, ain’t it? Both parties gotta be comfortable, otherwise the audience won’t feel connected to what they’re viewin’. All sex sells, but intimacy sells more.”

“I’m just not used to this kind of treatment, Joel. I honestly didn’t even believe that it existed in the adult film industry. The whole notion of comfort above all is just…new for me.”

“I know it is, darlin’,” Joel takes a breath before continuing, “I’m ex-Brazzers, too. Started there when I was 18, and left on my 30th birthday.” This was a piece of Joel’s past that was especially private, it came with baggage he still wasn’t entirely ready to unpack, and yet sharing this with you felt comforting for him.

“Oh my god, did they fire you too?” You lean forward in your chair feeling shocked that someone else in the industry shared the same awful experience as you did.

Joel’s heart shatters when he learns that you were fired. It makes him angry for you and the other women in the industry that were often released from their contracts for frivolous reasons. How could they let someone like you go? You have all the potential in the world with real, raw, talent, and on top of that, you were an absolute knockout. Those motherfuckers had a goldmine with you, and yet they couldn’t see what Joel sees.

“No, darlin’,” he frowns, “they didn’t. My brother and I made the decision to quit on our own. We stayed in LA for awhile with some old costars and made some amateur films before we moved back home to Austin, and started our own studio. I’ve strived to make porn that is catered to women. It’s a market that’s been largely untapped, and I’m lookin’ to shift the industry by showing how profitable it is,” he explains honestly. “And folks deserve to see real sex full of connection and intimacy and even sometimes some bloopers,” he chuckles. “It’s something that I’m incredibly passionate about, and that’s why it’s my utmost priority to make sure that you are respected and feel comfortable.”

You shrink in on yourself when the wave of sudden emotions hit and you don’t even realize your crying till Joel is getting up in a haste with a few tissues in his hand. His eyes are laced with concern as he crouches in front of you. “Hey, I’m sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean t’make ya cry. I jus’—know how harmful the industry can be, and ‘m tryin’ to build a safe space within it.”

Fat tears begin to roll down your cheeks as you try to laugh through the tears. You feel pathetic for breaking down in front of this man who you have only just met. He must think you’re a lost cause in the industry if you can’t even hold yourself together for more than five minutes. You sniffle as he gently brings the tissue upwards towards your face and gently brushes away your tears. “I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to turn into this blubbering fuckin’ mess.”

“Hey, ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, darlin’,” he coos. “Maybe we wanna get outta here for some fresh air? If you’d like? Know a nice quiet coffee shop jus’ down the street. How do you feel about that?”

You look at him through wet lashes and parted lips when you slowly nod. “Uh—yeah. That would..be great. I’m just not exactly comfortable in this environment,” you murmur.

“I understand. No hard feelin’s taken or anythin’. Would you like some help gettin’ up?” He offers you his freehand.

“You’re not..upset?” You question softly and grasp his hand in your palm as he gently helps you up from the chair. His palm is warm against yours and massive in size.

“Upset? No, not at all. I meant it when I said that your comfort is a priority, darlin.’” He affirms.

After you’ve composed yourself a bit, you let Joel lead the way to the quiet coffee shop down the street. He holds the door open for you and lets you pick a secluded table in the back. When you offer to pay for the coffees, he interjects with a small grin and shakes his head. “S’on me, darlin’. G’on now and make yourself comfy,” he nudges you gently towards the table.

It’s a depressing thought to have, but you think about how no man has ever treated you with the kindness and respect that Joel Miller has thus far. It’s the bare minimum, but you appreciate him for it deeply.

He returns with two lattes and places them on the table before taking a seat across from you. “Y’jus’ let me know when and if you wanna continue the conversation, alright? There’s no rush. I ain’t got anywhere else to be.”

You grasp the mug between your palms and let the warm steam wafting from the mug kiss your skin as you look over at him. “Well, I figured it would be okay with me to share with you a list of things I’m not comfortable with?” You lean over the side of the chair and reach into your purse to pull out a folded up piece of paper that you drafted up after submitting the application last night.

He nods and takes a sip of his latte. “Of course that’s okay for you to do. I’ve got a form for you to sign back at the studio that includes a section disclosing your limitations and your personal comforts. We like to keep it on file so we can prepare everyone before shoot day, that way there ain’t any accidental crossed boundaries.” He reaches across the table and gently takes the paper from you.

Despite everything Joel has told you thus far, you’re afraid that he’ll end up being judgemental based on your list. It’s pretty much everything that mainstream porn runs on: bondage, punishment, gang bangs, overstimulation, and anal to name a few. You’re already thinking of getting up from the table, and protecting what’s left of your ego when he sets the paper down, reaches for your hand, gently picks it up and kisses the back of it while looking into your eyes. “This is it? We can absolutely work with this, darlin’. Don’t you worry none,” he reassures you.

His lips against your skin are like two plush pillows. Soft, silky and it’s hard to not imagine what those lips would feel like pressed against either of your own. You expected shame, and instead were greeted with the complete opposite. He validated you, and that alone was making your head spin like a ferris wheel.

“I know you ain’t have any pleasant experiences in the industry, and that’s a damn shame. But I can promise you that you won’t have to worry about none of that with me. Okay, darlin’? Sweet girl, I’m gonna be honest with ya because that’s jus’ the kind of man I am. Y’got some serious talent that I think has been severely overlooked. I can make you into a real star if that’s what you want. I’m simply jus’ actin’ as a guideway for ya. And between you and me? I love my job, and I hope that maybe I’ll be able to turn those bad experiences you had into somethin’ good.”

Your eyes focus on his lips and their movement with each word that flows past them. Neither of you realize how close you’re leaning over the table till you can practically taste the hazelnut latte lingering on his tongue.

“Joel, I swear I heard every word you just said, and please tell me if I’m being unprofessional given the circumstances, but I really want to kiss you right now,” you breathe.

His brow raises and a dimple pokes through his cheek as a grin tugs across the corner of his lips. He chuckles softly, “Well, lucky for you, it’s totally appropriate given the circumstances. Jus’ one of the many perks of bein’ in this industry, darlin’. Unbridled desire is personally one of my favorite things.” He leans in closer, his tone dropping down to an octave that made you tingle with desire, and admits quietly, just for you, “If we weren’t here in this coffee shop right now, I’d show you just how unbridled my desire can be.”

You gripped the edge of the table for dear life. It took everything in you to not rip that man’s clothes off right then and there. That part of you that had laid so dormant was crackling to life again, and he could see those emotions swirling in your eyes. “Maybe we should get those papers signed so that you can show me if you’re really just all talk?” Your brow quirked upwards, mouth lifting into a flirtatious smirk just as his nose brushed against your own.

“Think you’ve seen enough to me to know that I ain’t bluffin’, darlin’.” His hot breath fans your lips as you reach across the table and rest a hand on his shoulder, the other steadying your balance on the table. Joel lifts his hand to your face and gently guides you by your chin. His lips brush yours, testing the waters while your tongue swipes confidently at his lower lip. He surges forward, hand moving from your chin to cup your face where your jaw meets your neck and deepens the kiss. You unconsciously let a soft moan loose, lost in the feeling, and Joel feels his cock come to life at the sound. It’s a good thing the barista behind the counter is too busy watching a YouTube video to see you and Joel practically gorging on each other's faces.

You can feel him smiling against your mouth before he leaves you with a final press of his lips and pulls back, sitting back in his chair, shit-eating grin plastered on his face as he brings his thumb up to the corner of his lips and wipes away a stray strand of saliva. “Think I’m gonna get a little somethin’ to eat. Y’want anythin’?” He rasps and reaches for his wallet in his pocket.

“Yeah.” You grin and rest your chin in your palms. “Something..sweet.”

A flush rises to his cheeks as he stands up from the chair and discreetly adjusts himself in his jeans and you giggle at the sight. You’d think it was his first rodeo by how quickly he had grown hard from just kissing you. Then again, Joel did say that he loved his job. And if he treated the less significant parts of his job like that, you were more than looking forward to seeing, feeling, him do the other parts of his job he loved, too.

You sat in that coffee shop for hours getting to know one another. It felt like no time had gone by at all, and it was obvious that you both were feeling that spark of an immediate connection blossoming. There was no denial that you and Joel were physically attracted to one another, but you had no idea what doors were now opened because of this first meeting. The chemistry was palpable, electricity ricocheting off the walls, and that unspoken language between one another was apparent.

“Hey, Joel? I think I’m ready to sign those forms now,” you spoke, wading through the building sexual tension.

“Perfect.” He grins. “Let’s go n’get ‘em signed.” He pats your thigh gently.

Once you’re back in the studio, Joel goes over every section of the documents and answers every single one of your questions with direct thoughtfulness and professionalism. You can hear your pulse beating in your ears when you sign the last page, clenching your thighs to abate the need growing between your legs.

“Now, there’s no rush to filmin’ anythin’ right away, okay? We don’t gotta dive head first if you wanna go home and process all of this, I completely understand. But, if you’re interested, I can give you my address and we can—”

“How about you drive me to your place instead?” You coyly interjected with a grin.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications

556 notes · View notes

cheralith · 3 months ago

Note

hi, love your writing and ive just wanted to say pirate reader and siren rin has been rotting my brain for the longest time imagine he’s been watching them from the ocean for a while and saves them from drowning

sorry about the blurb it was just been in the back of my mind for a bit

feat. itoshi rin (with itoshi sae) || wc: 1.1k wc: gn!reader, no pronouns used, siren/mermaid!rin, prince!rin, sailor!reader a/n: god nonnie u came to the right place because i have been truly itching to write something for rin for the longest time and you've opened a door for me to do so thank uuu, i hope this blurb is alright since i didnt rly know how to incorporate the pirate part in so i just made reader a regular sailor :')

The water embraces you within its grasp as you collide with it, a quiet sound that only Rin can hear from the distance he's been observing you.

It's worked, his cantabile song luring you into him like a moth to a flame. It wasn't his fault that you lead yourself to your own doom, you were getting much too close to his peoples' abode. Rin was just simply trying to protect his people on his patrol out this early evening, when he had spotted you and your ship sailing too close to his waters.

A determined human, you were, given by the look on your face that was scrawled with resolve as you steered your boat on steady waters that seemed to almost glide you along without much effort from your own end—shame that you didn't know it was Rin's doing, controlling the waves of the water to bring you closer to him so he could properly get rid of you.

Humans tainted everything they touched; from the land to the ocean, Mother Nature's creations she made from her own two hands would be soiled by the undoing from humans like yourselves. The second prince did not play into the idea that not all of them were bad—a foolish idea brought upon by Isagi and Bachira—because all he had ever known was the destruction and messes brought into the ocean by human hands. It didn't help his case that many of his people in his kingdom were captured by humans like yourselves to be considered some sort of trophy.

Rin didn't know who you were, and didn't want to take the chances had you been one of them, so before you were able to get rid of him or one of his people, he decided to get rid of you first. Nothing he wasn't used to—he's collected his fair share of drowned human corpses from the past. Just another to add to his aggregation.

He had watched from a safe distance in the small cavern his song lulled you into a trance, one that made you take your hands off the wheel of the boat and come closer to the edge of the boat, where you had eventually toppled over and into the depths of the sea, a hushed splash echoing.

Rin jumps from his place on the rocks and into the water, where the ocean greets him again. His tail propels him forward to where your ghostly figure floats like a phantom in the water, motionless and still, the last bit of sunlight still in the sky almost glorifying you with a spotlight in the empty sea.

He swims around your unconscious figure, his song still reverberating from him to ensure that he properly spellbinds you into the arms of death itself, where your body will run out oxygen without knowing and water will fill your lungs, pulling you into the dark depths of the ocean to rot away like the rest of the humans Rin had bewitched.

But as Rin comes closer to you, he realizes you're nothing he's seen before. There's this... allure about you. You're not like the brutish men he's lured to their death, the ones with contorted wrinkles and matted hair both on their heads and on their face. Your face is calm and smooth, eyelids closed, your separated limbs gently swaying in the water as your hair splays out. He squints, bringing his face closer to your own to examine you and your features. You look almost tranquil within the water, like you belong here.

He's fascinated. You were a rarity. A human, yes, but you were, dare he say it, seraphic in appearance—you almost rivaled the beauty of the ocean herself, though Rin knows better than to say that aloud.

This beauty that was as hypnotizing as his song being possessed by you. Rin's gills flutter as a webbed hand goes to press your pillowy lips, murmuring in surprise at their softness. He leans in, his own that frame jagged teeth nearly grazing against yours, ready to slither in his venom from his mouth to yours to temporarily paralyze you so he can properly take you back to his kingdom to present to Sae—this divine beauty of a human he can display somewhere as an early coronation gift from his little brother.

Suddenly, just as Rin's venom glands opened, your eyes shoot open and your consciousness gains back into your body. Rin pulls back in surprise, hissing when you blearily make out his appearance in the water, a strange fuzzy figure before with a long, shimmering purple tail despite half of him being human-like. A screech fails to erupt from you, and the water suffocates your throat.

Rin seethes as you thrash about the water, not knowing what to do until you choke out and the last bit of bubbles pulls the air from you, your body paralyzing. Death will come to you early, but now, Rin doesn't want that. Sae would want you alive so he could properly toy with your humanness. The imperial prince had always been fascinated by the workings of the human body, so Rin is sure that he needs to bring you alive to ensure Sae's satisfaction.

So Rin pulls you up, where the air meets the sea, where you can breathe properly. But when you remain in your current state within the pressures of the water, Rin ventures back to the cove where he had hid himself from view, pulling you onto the cool rocks, your body free from the chains of the water.

Irritation grows on his face when your chest refuses to heave again for awhile, but your body suddenly spits out the water held captive in your throat, spilling over and making you cough harshly from the lack of air. Rin jumps back from the harsh movement, watching as you regain your breath. Your eyes flutter close again from the exhaustion, but your breaths return to you, indicating you were still alive.

Rin hovers above you curiously, watching as you moan from the pain from your chest and hiccup, his hands brushing away a wet piece of hair so he could properly examine you again to make sure you were ripe enough to present to Sae in full, ensuring the water didn't make some sort of false visage.

Your eye squeeze abruptly and Rin takes away his hand in caution, freezing when he sees your eyes pry open hazily again. He watches warily as your bleary eyes take him in—the alien-like figure from before now pure and clear.

Oh, what a heavenly creature... those teal hues in a haunting pool of grey are especially enigmatic... framed by long black lashes that add a certain bewitching to them... you can't help but be so entranced.

Your vision blurs again, haze going in and out as you try to focus on Rin, and you unconsciously reach out to pull away a long noir bang from his face so you can properly see him in full. You don't notice the way he winces at your oddly gentle touch. A soft smile displays on your colorless lips, this peacefulness upon you.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur out to the creature, just before your world turns to black again.

#🖋 ; alice in writingland #✉ ; letters to wonderland #blue lock #bllk #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #itoshi rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader

147 notes · View notes

dreamingbrownie · 2 months ago

Text

Conclave fic rec post oneshot edition

Seeing as this fandom still has me in its grips, but I'm still writing my MA thesis, I haven't had much time or mental wherewithal recently for long fics. So, I read oneshots. Lawrítez, Lawrellini, character studies, incredibly heart wrenching stories and funny little gems. Some of these changed my damn brain chemistry. These are the stories that really struck and stayed with me. More or less shortest to longest, do give all of these a read if you need something short that nonetheless feels like a lot more. I don't know any of the authors here on tumblr if I don't tag them here, so do let me know their tags if they wish to be poked and give these incredible writers some love in the comments!

Fire burning on the dance floor

A late night fire emergency is not Thomas’s idea of a good time. Aldo and Vincent seem amused, though.

888 words, G. Aldo and Pope Vincent have been recreationally doing pot and accidentally set off the fire alarm. Short and sweet, poor Thomas has his hens alllll in a basket.

I wasn't gonna run from the cops

The Cardinal Archbishop of Los Angles is visiting. He's such a good baker, Vincent helps himself to some brownies.

1,6k, G. Pope Vincent accidentally gets to chill out for the first time in his papacy. Thomas, once again, needs to have all his hens in a basket and cluck some over them. The casual mention of Vincent in chronic pain made this into a story that stuck with me.

God, I beg you

Aldo's point of view of the explosion at the Sistine chapel.

1,2k, G, missing movie scene, tagged Aldo/Thomas. I was waiting for something exactly like this for so long now I was overjoyed to find this.

Sweet Soul

Janusz is nursing a sgroppino, a terrible venetian speciality, lost somewhere on the spectrum stretching uneasily between desserts and cocktails. It isn't worth the vodka it is made with, which is exactly why he picked it: to be sure he doesn't drink himself under the table before the day's voting ends.

1,5k, G, but this is heavier stuff. This moment of the white smoke from Janusz' perspective in a Roman bar deals with his grief-fuelled alcoholism that feels sadly realistic and very immersive.

Sede Vacante

Aldo is tasked with organising the conclave, while grieving for Vincent.

2.2k, T, major character death. Holy Trinity fic (Aldo/Thomas/Vincent) in which Pope Vincent has just died of ovarian cancer a couple years into his papacy. This fic is going to reach into your belly, squeeze and twist. It's brutally soft and beautiful in a very realistic way of dealing with grief.

Memento mori

Vincent coughs again, then rests back, winded. His hand drifts toward the apple plate on the bedside table. Thomas steadies it. Helps him take a slice. It trembles on the way to his mouth. “They used to say I would fracture the Church,” Vincent murmurs. “Let in rot. Invite sin with open hands. All because I believed the ones furthest from the altar were often the ones carrying the most grace.” Thomas doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. He’s heard this pain before — in meetings, in private, in exile. “They wanted Peter’s fire,” Vincent says. “But I gave them Joseph’s silence. That wasn’t enough.” He pauses. The slice of apple, half-eaten, sits in his palm like a relic. (Or, ten years after the conclave that elected Pope Innocent XIV, it seems that Cardinal Lawrence will need to organize yet another one in this lifetime.)

3,5k, T. Lawrítez (Thomas/Vincent), major character death, what it says on the tin. This fic faces you by the throat and shoves your whole face into the crook of its neck so you can sob for a solid hour or seven about this. This seriously is one of the most empathetic, soft, beautiful, devastating stories about an utterly predictable death of old age(-ish) and a long, enduring love that dare not speak its name which I have ever read.

Autopsy on the body of Christ

In the Congo, in Iraq, in Afghanistan, Benítez is plagued by nightmares. In Rome, he meets Lawrence, and the nightmare ends.

4,4k, M, Lawritez with a happy ending, but it's a long, bloody way out of a dozen war zones, body horror of the Christ-related kind, dysphoria and Vincent coming to terms with his intersexuality. This feels a lot longer than it is in the best way. I love this especially because of its gritty, bloody, utterly unobscuring realism blended with more dreams than reality.

Gloriosum est iniurias oblivisci by @rodamned

Cardinals Giulio Sabbadin and Aldo Bellini share a quiet evening in Milano—a Valentine’s Day date almost—marked by wine, humor, and the unspoken weight of years behind them and the challenges yet to come.

6k, M, focuses on Aldo Bellini & Giulio Sabbadin and their complicated friendship with a side of Aldo carrying a torch for Thomas. This is such a refreshing take on love in variations and Sabbadin comes across simultaneously as joyous and jaded, the smoking Milano monk-politician. Aldo needs a hug in this, but it feels very freeing in a way. Also Tez' works are all masterpieces, go check out her entire catalogue!

Nomine Paulo by @rodamned

Cardinal Aldo Bellini is elected pope, as his campaign manager, Cardinale Giulio Sabbadin, is experiencing his first mental breakdown ever.

10k, not rated, Lawrellini (Thomas/Aldo). I reiterate my statement, and this is one of Tez' masterpieces. Tez has such a way with internal monologue, emotions, repression, queerness, love, obsession, duty and the golden cage, and this particular story has stuck with me ever since I read it weeks ago. Really, this is about regret, Thomas and Aldo's doomed love, growing old together while not being allowed to grow old together. This is about grieving before death and about grieving a death - two deaths - before their inevitable arrival, inevitably apart. Really, this is about the brutality, isolation and horror of the papacy. You will need tissues for this one.

And two longer fics:

Commentaries on the book of Ruth

“You speak about the announcement as if it were your execution,” Vincent jokes, though there is no malice or reproach in his voice. Just compassion. “Perhaps,” Thomas confesses, so low Vincent can barely make it out, “Perhaps it is.” --- Dean Thomas Lawrence becomes Pope John XXIV.

18k over four chapters, finished, one story of a series of two, Lawritez. What it says on the tin: Thomas becomes Pope and Vincent returns to Kabul. Somehow, they still grow together. This story is a slow build-up of such a precious relationship, a love that starts as the only outlet for two men in two impossible situations and grows into first a magnet, then a stronghold. The visuals, the symbolism, the internal perspective of Vincent only getting to talk to Thomas occasionally while not really getting the news from the Vatican is a strikingly effective method of writing one side of a developing relationship while missing a lot of the other until they finally get to see each other again. The continuation of this also looks very promising.

Cardinal virtues

Aldo Bellini is still going through it. Somehow it is worse? This is a much longer fic about going on a journey with the man you love who you think is in love with someone else and you keep dreaming about the dead pope. God is still there.

37k, Lawrellini, a heart-wrenching, beautiful slow burn pining and getting together travel story with a happy ending. Thomas and Aldo are tired old servants who've been talking past each other for a solid few decades, and it's unravelling their relationship until they finally start speaking with words instead of gestures and glances. This is a masterclass in writing the emotional impact of a misunderstanding, the devastation of fighting jealously because Aldo wants Thomas to be happy, and the aching, unspoken what-could-have-beens. But the happy ending is so worth the slow burn. The other characters in this make this world feel so real and the journey isn't only metaphorical.

#Conclave 2024 #Aldo Bellini/Thomas Lawrence #Thomas Lawrence/Vincent Benítez #Aldo Bellini/Thomas Lawrence/Vincent Benítez #Conclave fic rec #vincent benítez #Thomas Lawrence #Aldo Bellini #Giulio Sabbadin #Janusz Wozniak #oneshots

41 notes · View notes

jocelynscrazyideas · 1 year ago

Text

Coffee Breath | Quinn Hughes x Fem Reader

Summary: Quinn and Y/N go to Starbucks and Target after Team practice, and they prep for the Hughes Brawl that is being played in 4 hours.

Warnings: language, and only one kiss (it’s a peck)

A:N- I hate this sm but I needed to post smth 🫶

All i know is that you talk to much

You’ve got those big blue eyes

Drive me crazy, make me fantasize

‘Bout you baby

After team practice before the next game, Quinn and I leave the rink and we pick up some coffee. Quinn is wearing a letter this year on his jersey so, he has to take his body seriously now. All he does is workout. I’ve been dragging him to get coffee with me, just like it was in the past.

“You wnat your Gingerbread Oatmilk Chai?” Quinn says as he looks into my eyes. All I see is his light blue eyes, almost as if they were grey.

I look to his right eye, and to his left, then down to his lips, I love him. He sees my trick, and he grabs my thigh, as he moves his fingers into my warm special place.

He’s such a cunt.

“Yeah, the chai is perfect. And could I get a Gouda sandwich- the one I like.” I say as we pull into the Starbucks drive through. He turns his head as he pulls his blue hood off his head.

Said you can’t trust me

I said it’s fine.

I’m wearing the perfect outfit. Black leggings, pink sports bra, and of course Quinn’s hoodie. My shoes, are also his, they’re wayy too big, but they’re just crocs. Quinn, in the drivers seat wearing a blue hoodie, black sweatpants, and his grey slides. We’re matching. I love him.

“Mobile order for Maya Ray.” Quinn says as he looks at me with a smirk. Maya- which isn’t my name, and Ray- is also not my name nor his name. We use fake names, out of our safety, and for fun. He pulls up to the second window and he grabs the Iced Chai and swings his arm to me, and he also grabs the sandwich I asked him to get me.

“Don’t get crumbs in my car. I’ll kill you.” Quinn snaps out at me.

What an actual cunt.

“Cuntasaurus.” I say underneath my breath. I grab the drink and the sandwich and place the chai into my lap. I unwrapped my sandwich and started to bite in.

“Do you have change?” Quinn asks. Weird. He payed online, he doesn’t need more money- unless he’s going to leave a tip. Then I thought that he could already leave a tip online.

“Why.” I say in response, only after I remembered to answer his question. I was lost into thought that I literally forgot to respond.

“So I can leave a tip, I forgot to tip online.” sure. I think to myself, I know he’s lying, he’s a freaking millionaire, he should have at least $10 freaking dollars on him.

“Yep.” I say and grab my phone case. I pull the $20 out and hand it to the lady, only because I know if I gifted it to Quinn, that money wouldn’t make it to the tip jar.

“I could have done that.” Quinn says snapping at me… again.

“Well obviously not.” I say as I open the middle console that splits our seats apart. I pull out $100 dollars and shove it in his face.

a side eye is all I get in response from him.

“Shocker. You know where my money is.” Quinn says after we turn into the parking lot of a target about 10 minutes later.

he’s literally the sassiest man I’ve ever fucking met. He’s… so, teenage boy. Literal brain rot. We need to pick up some groceries so I made a list of things that I needed. Of course I made a list of things that again only I need.

“So, why did you need to stop at Target?” Quinn says as he finds the farthest fucking parking spot there is. God, he better carry me back out here. I look into his blue eyes again, he literally drives me crazy, I can smell his cologne, and that makes me insane.

He smells like flowers, but in a masculine way. It’s hard to describe, he’s just so beautiful. It’s just a normal day for us, but it’s THE Hughes brawl. New Jersey Devils vs Canucks in Vancouver.

I’m excited, but no matter what I’m going to be proud, I’ve known Luke for the longest of times, and even before I met Luke and Wuinn I was friends with Jack.

“You coming?” Quinn says as he opens my door and grabs my left ass cheek. Let’s just say his love language is physical touch, he’s really touchy, clingy and childish, but so am I.

“Yep. Also Quinner-” I say before he freaking cuts me off.

“I know. you always make your own list. Never something that I would need, it’s always oh, what do I need? And oh, I ran out on shampoo, better get ME some.” Quinn says as he mocks me. He’s such an ass. But an ass taht I love.

Again as he swipes his right arm under my butt, he grabs my back with his left arm, and he tips over to the left as he swoops me into his arms and over his shoulder. Quinn pulls my leggings over my red lacy thong that I’m wearing under.

“I hate when you do that.” Quinn states as he closes my door and locks the car. He grabs my hand and we walk to the the doors of the store.

“Do what?” I say in actual confusion.

“You tease me, then you follow up with that with oh, I’m too tired and sorry I’m not in the mood.”

Quinn seems really upset, which is why I love to do it. I pull my hoodie down over my butt and I get an cloud of Quinn. I love him. I really do.

I’m hit with this wave of horny desperation.

“Hey, give me a kiss. Please!!” I say as I stop him and we stand in the middle of the parking lot. I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck. I look deep into his eyes in pleading guilt.

“I know what you’re doing.” He says, he’s convinced that I’ll do the thing.

“Omg, just kiss me.” I say. But he won’t. So I grab his hand, and pull him back to the car, and I grab his keys form his pocket and unlock the doors.

“Please. Quinn I’m ready. Right now.” And I pull him into the backseat.

I pull at his silver chain that I bought him, its charm is a heart, and the back of the heart is a photo of us. When we were like 16.

“Please. Don’t. Not right now.” Quinn says as he pushes up agisnt me. I feel him getting hard. There’s truly a tent being built in his sweatpants.

“We have like 4 hours until the next game. We have time.” I say as I look into his neck ready to make a move. I can feel his pulse penetrating from his artery.

“No.” Quinn’s consistent with his answer. And I respect it. So I climb into the passenger seat and I forget about the target trip in general. And he climbs back into the drivers seat as well. And he pulls my cheek towards him. And he leans in for a kiss.

Taste like coffee.

#jocelynscrazyideas #umich hockey #hockey #nhl #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #umich #vancouver canucks #🍇🍇🍇

144 notes · View notes

xiaosonlybeloved · 1 year ago

Text

Our Love is Six Feet Under- Nakahara Chuuya

featuring: Nakahara Chuuya (bsd), gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) warnings:- angst throughout, major character death, major light novel (stormbringer) spoilers!! a/n:- my, my, this idea has actually been rotting in my brain for over a month and its my longest fic till date. i loved writing it i hope u guys like it too <33 heavily inspired by 'six feet under' by billie eilish

wc: 3k || masterlists

You feel like you’ve been through worse than hell and back when you drag your eyes open. It doesn’t take you long to assess your situation and remember what had happened to you in the first place to get you attached to a hospital bed with various machines around you.

You promptly wish you’d rather have died instead, or never woken up. Not having had to deal with the pain that stabbed your heart like a thousand serrated, unforgiving knives would be a million times better than being alive. It would have been so much better than being the only survivor.

Technically, you should feel no personal guilt over the Flags’ deaths. Its not like you had been hired to protect them, and what you had been paid to specifically do is the only thing that matters when you’re an assassin. Especially when the Port Mafia is the one who outsourced you. The blame of their deaths could, in no way, be pinned upon you.

Having feelings is what gets someone killed in the world you live in, a dark world in the deepest shadows of the city. Having an ability is no reason to be confident of yourself, not when the country is littered with ability users everywhere. And yet having an ability as unique as yours is how you managed to save yourself from the certain death brought upon you all by the King of Assassins.

It was supposed to be another normal day, right? You were off-duty, so you were hanging out with the Flags at the usual place, who you had become ‘acquainted’ with over the past few months of working together, Mori’s orders. If you could dare to curse yourself and them by calling you guys friends, you would. One of them, possibly the one you were closest with, had left for some mission with a foreign investigator, long story. So you were chilling out with the others, playing billiards and all that stuff.

If someone had told you that would be your last memory together, you would have atleast clicked a picture for keepsakes. Or you’d have cherished the moment more, rather than treating it so casually. After all, you never know the value of what you’ve lost until you’ve lost it.

In the present, you shut out your emotions- they’re too much of a storm for you to be able to deal with. The grief at their deaths, the horror at the memory of the sight, the overwhelming grief- you needed a break. You slipped back into unconsciousness, a weight lying heavy on your chest that would surely never leave you until you die.

********

The funeral seems much too loud and way too quiet at the same time, or perhaps thats just your thoughts. You’re silent in the shadows, yet again, watching the processions and the choir wordlessly. You don’t speak anything. You don’t think you have the right to.

You haven’t dared to talk to Chuuya, or even approach him. He was the only member of the Flags who was not present when Verlaine struck, and thus the only one alive. He was incredibly close to them, you know, because you yourself were close to them, to him. Barely anyone had spoken a word to him, not even the boss. His aura was such that if you even dared to approach him, you’d probably either have your lungs squashed by gravity, or his own carefully crafted facade would break down.

If, as someone who wasn’t even part of the Port Mafia or the Flags, you had been affected so badly, how was Chuuya coping? Was he? Yet, out of habit, you can’t help but keep an eye out for him. Silently, selfishly even, perhaps you’re hoping he can find it in himself to forgive you.

The foreign investigator has shown up again, looking much too cheerful for someone entering a funeral, and goes straight to Chuuya. You can feel that he’s pissed off, but a few words from Mori, and Chuuya stands up in a forced manner, going to leave with the detective.

You manage to meet his gaze finally, but you don’t think you’d ever be prepared for it. His eyes bored straight into yours, eyes that had once looked at you with mirth and laughter, and dare you say it, love, eyes that were always an open gateway to his emotions. They held nothing but silent accusations, hidden anger, all pointing their sharp ends towards you. Not a single friendly feeling.

Not a word is exchanged as he walks right past you, but there’s no need to. You’ve gotten the silent message he’s sending you crystal clear- he will never forgive you for this.

You think you deserve it fully, you understand. Even now. How twisted, really, but you got it. When he lost the Flags, he lost a part of himself too, but he still remembered you. And remembering you was a constant reminder of them, of your failure to save them, of the pain that came with.

Though it hurt you, you knew that distancing yourself from him was the best thing to do. If you pursued him again, there was no telling what he might end up doing, but it certainly wouldn’t end well. Chuuya likely knew this too, and he clearly didn’t want you to come back. So you wouldn’t. This funeral would be the last time you associated with the Port Mafia, and thus Chuuya, even if it hurt you to do so. But again, considering feelings is what gets you killed in this world, and you’d rather not die so soon, although you actually don’t mind.

And well, what did it matter if somewhere, sometime, Chuuya secretly wished you’d ask him to return?

********

Visiting their graves has become a monthly thing to you, due to your inability to let the past stay in the past. Perhaps its your own, guilty way of attempting to make amends, perhaps its your way of keeping their memory engraved in your mind, perhaps its to ensure that they aren’t forgotten, even if you know well they will never be. Deep inside, its a way for you to mourn the dead, as well as the loss of the living.

You bring flowers every time, stay a while, occasionally leave something for them. Sometimes, you talk to them, sometimes you apologise over and over again, sometimes you stay silent, letting your thoughts still for a while. If nothing else, you just stared at the small rose plants that were growing there, one behind each of the five graves. It always amazed you, that such a delicate flower could grow in such a barren place. It sure seemed like they’d be blooming soon, and whenever you visited, you always made sure to check on them.

Time passes, but the wounds do not heal from inside, they just scab over, concealing the pain at first glance. You’ve gotten better at hiding it, yes, but that does not make it any better. You’ve become stronger, risen in rank as an assassin, honed your skills further. You’ve become reputed for carrying out your tasks in a swiftly lethal, unclouded way that left no traces. Almost a year has already gone by since the incident, and you still havent forgiven yourself. Nor has Chuuya.

That’s why, on their death anniversary, when you feel his cold gaze on you for the first time in a whole year when you were at their graves, you don’t hesitate to get up and start to leave. It’s best for him to not see you again. You’ve cut off all contact with the Port Mafia, except for when you occasionally got hired by them, and even then you finished it quickly, wasting no time. Interacting with no one.

So that’s why it surprises you, when he holds up a hand, walking past you to lay the flowers on their graves. “You can stay.” He speaks emotionlessly, not looking at you. He sounds older, more mature, which was to be expected, you supposed. You remain standing where you are for a few moments, not facing him as he walks over and sits behind one of the graves. “As long as you aren’t doing anything wrong, of course.” He adds. At that, you sit in front of the grave he’s leaning against, replying quietly with a “No, I was merely paying my respects.”

It was anyways evening when you came, soon, the moon starts its ascent through the sky, as silence settles between the two of you. Not a word is exchanged between the two of you as you sit on opposite sides of the same grave, in each other’s company. The only people who could truly understand each other’s pain and suffering.

You settle for silently staring at the roses. Small buds have formed, but they don’t look well- its as if the whole plant is starting to wilt, little by little. They haven’t flowered even once yet,and you wondered if those roses would bloom before the plant died. Could they? After all, the weather was changing- it was raining more often these days. Maybe they couldn’t take it. Even now, a light drizzle had started as you sat, but it took you some time to realise, because you didn’t feel the rain at all, only noticing the faint red hue around. You didn’t mention it, nor did Chuuya.

Perhaps, whatever once could have been between you and the guy opposite you was symbolised by those roses- it could have bloomed, if given the chance, but life abandoned it, left it to wilt in the aftermath of the storm. Any possible chances for you two were like the beloved ones who had left you now- six feet under the ground, dead, marked by a grave. This was merely the hand that fate dealt you, you had no choice but to accept it

********

“I can’t see the moon tonight.”. You murmur, almost to yourself, as you remain seated against the graves. It had been years, and even till now, neither of you had stopped coming to the grave to pay your respects, you arriving first every time and waiting for him. Your own visits weren’t monthly anymore due to life, more sporadic, but you still did visit from time to time, and you know Chuuya did too. And every year, on the fateful day that the incident happened, both of you never failed to show up, at the same time. Sometimes you exchanged a few words of greeting, a line or two about life. Other times you sat in silence till the moon’s glow started to dim, leaving as noiselessly as you came. Over time, this became your and Chuuya’s last remaining shared tradition out of all those that used to exist, your last link to each other. Seems like none of you was truly able to stay away from the other after all, huh?

“Say, Chuuya, next year, can you check for me whether the moon is visible or not? I feel like there really is something different about it on this day.” You ask him. He curtly replies, “Yeah no, you can do it yourself when you come back here. There’s no big deal about it anyways.” There’s no real bite in his words though, but it still saddens you. You wave it aside though, as you stare at the rose plants, like you always do.

Over the years, those roses have wilted, died, and new plants have grown in their place. Not a single one of them ever bloomed though. You want to ask Chuuya to check on those plants next year too, but you don’t.

Tired from your day at work- it was more hectic and dangerous than usual- you lean against Chuuya’s shoulder. He remains motionless- he doesn’t push you away, but he certainly doesn’t pull you closer either. This is another thing you developed over the years- if either of you felt like you needed a shoulder on that day, the other would offer it. And you wanted to do it one last time.

Eventually, you two get up and brush yourselves off, preparing to part ways. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on Chuuya’s for a second more than usual as you open up your umbrella- it always does rain on this day, but today it seemed a bit gentler yet stronger- as if the skies were quietly lamenting over what was to come.

Right before he left, he quietly spoke, the whisper floating between you. “Don’t think everything’s alright between us, because it isn’t.” He always does say something like this before he leaves every time, and again, there’s no real bite or meaning behind those words, just a formality he wishes to continue.

You let a sad smile rest on your face as you gazed at him, before responding, “Don’t worry, I know.”

“Take care, Chuuya.”

As you started walking off alone, feeling Chuuya’s eyes still on you, ensuring your safety like the gentleman he was, you wondered if you had truly tied all the remaining loose ends of your thread of life, or did you still have regrets? It was very likely- no one could say they died without any regrets at all. And besides, no one’s end was written in stone, unless they carved it themselves. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was ever all too much for you.

The next morning, you call your boss to let him know that you’re ready to take on the mission. It was an important one, involving both a long period of infiltration for gathering valuable intel, and then the assassination of the target at the end. It was a high-risk mission too, but you were used to those, weren’t you?

Why would this mission be any different?

*********

Another year rolled past. This year, Chuuya hadn’t been able to visit the graves at all after the first two-three months because he had been sent overseas for a long-term mission. During the months he’d been in Yokohama, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of you- of course he hadn’t, he made sure to avoid the days you came, preferring to merely see the traces of yourself you left and leaving his own. After that he only got the chance to return there on their next death anniversary, and even for that he had to fight tooth and nail. He was a man of actions, and he would never be the one to break the tradition.

But he’d never imagined that you would break it either. You too were a person who valued actions, or had you changed over the years?

His sharp eyes scanned the graves cautiously, but there was not a single trace of you. The only life around were the rose plants, not a soul in sight.

Rage, resentment and hints of sorrow bubbled up in him, taking him by storm as he strode over and angrily sat down by one of the graves. He was silent the entire night, letting his rush of emotions subside, staring at the gates as if he was expecting you to suddenly pop out. He stared at the moon, and at the roses. Did you not notice that they were about to bloom when you last visited? Because they were in full bloom that night, for the first time in years, delicate, fragrant petals shining in the moonlight. The moon, too, looked beautiful that night, a full moon surrounded by clouds. It was raining, heavier than usual, but the moon was never hidden. A memory entered his mind- last year, you had asked him to check whether the moon was visible this year.

“Well, it’s visible, and it sure is beautiful, but you didn’t even show up. Why?” He bitterly spoke out loud.

In the soft blowing wind that accompanied the rain, a stray lone rose petal lying on the ground gently floated in air, appearing as ethereal as smoke. He rose up to leave- you clearly weren’t showing up- eyes following the petal as it blew about, landing on a grave not of the Flags, but right beside, almost as if the deceased had specifically asked it to be there. It seemed relatively new too, for he hadn’t seen it the last time he’d been here. He walked over to it, to read what was written on the gravestone.

A moment passed, then another. And another. And Chuuya doesn’t know how long he spent there, kneeling in front of it. He was slowly getting drenched, because his ability had deactivated itself at some point of the night, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the neatly written words staring back at him, taunting him.

At some point, he understood why he was alone that night. Why you weren’t there to give him company, solace that night. It was because you couldn’t, and so you’d left whatever remained of yourself there, beside him, beside them, eternally. He just hadn’t known.

He could barely breathe, he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to, because his chest felt so heavy then. Eventually, he noticed where the petal had landed- it was a small letter, slightly wet and yellowed, kept in such a way that the rain wouldn’t destroy it. Someone must have kept it there on your request, and so he took it out, eyes taking in the faintly smudged but still intelligible words.

‘I’m sorry, Chuuya, for everything. I hope you can forgive me someday, even if I myself never could. Thank you for staying with me, for existing.

-Love, [Y/N]’

A silent tear slipped out of his eye, then another. “Idiot.” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’ve always been too hard on yourself. I think I forgave you a long time ago, I guess I just never wanted to acknowledge it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being too late.”

“And don’t worry, the moon looks beautiful tonight, and so do the roses. They’ve finally bloomed. I think you would have loved to see them, wouldn’t you?”

this took me ages to write, but i hope u like it hehehe anyways votes, reblogs and comments are really very much appreciated <333

176 notes · View notes

galacticgraffiti · 3 months ago

Text

A Borrowing of Bones (2)

This work is a collaboration with my most beloved artist and friend of all time Blumi. All text was written by me, all illustrations were designed and painted by them ♡

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish Rating: Mature (for heavy themes) Chapter Wordcount: 3.6k

MCD, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat // Heed also the Masterlist for general warnings. CW: death, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms, gore and blood, unfulfilled love/doomed love, inaccuracy of military protocols, apparations.

A/N: The Chapter titles are taken from different poems. The poems will be hyperlinked for those interested! Blumi's artworks will be added to the end of each chapter.

Read on AO3 ✧ Taglist Signup for this fic ✧ Fic Masterlist

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Two: Ceremonious Like Tombs

Ghost goes to visit Johnny’s grave. Eventually.

The dreams won’t leave him alone, won’t let him rest. Each day, he wakes up more and more tired, Johnny’s thick brogue in his ear like he was just here, right next to him.

Simon, he whispers. Simon, I miss ye. Simon, I wish I hadnae died, I wish ye couldae saved me. Simon, do nae leave me here. Please, Simon, do nae let my body rot. The earth doesnae love me the way ye do. The dirt doesnae hold me like ye wouldae done, and it’s so cold without ye. Simon, death is nothin’ without ye. Simon, please come… please come get me. Please take me with ye, I do nae want tae be so lonely anymore. I do nae wan’ tae be so cold anymore.

Sometimes he cries. Those dreams are the worst ones. Ghost never heard Soap cry – truly cry – when he was alive, so his brain fills the empty space with quiet, breathless sobs, with hiccups and screams of terror.

Simon!

Ghost wants to answer. His lungs want to give in with the way he screams and screams and screams, the scars on his cheeks stretched taut with the pain, still raw and pink after all these years. And smiling, always smiling, even when Ghost has not smiled in months. Has lost his only reason to.

Johnny was the only one who made him smile. And he is gone, so all that remains is the smile cut into Ghost’s face that isn’t really one, is just a symbol of pain and suffering. A terrible reminder etched into skin, of Simon Riley’s pain, of Johnny’s home, of everything Ghost wishes he could forget.

Simon!

Ghost’s teeth grind, jaws meeting in agony, clenched so hard his teeth might shatter, just so that he will finally stop screaming. Can’t wake up the others, can’t let them know how bad it has got. Can’t leave, because leaving means leaving pieces of Soap behind that linger around base.

Simon is not here anymore, Johnny. You’re begging the wrong man. I am all that remains. I am the Ghost of you.

The Johnny of his dreams never seems to shy away from that idea. Doesn’t care whether it’s Simon or Ghost he’s crying to. Haunts him regardless.

Then come get me. If ye are mah Ghost, then let me be part of ye. Take me with ye, please, jus’ take me with ye- I’ve never been scared, but I’m scared now, I’m so alone- please, just come and get me outta here. I’m so cold all the time, Ghost, please jus’ come so ye can take me with ye, make me warm again, please- please…

It’s incessant. The apparition nags at Ghost’s mind, no matter whether he is awake or asleep. It follows him from his dreams into his waking hours. Gets louder and louder. And still, Ghost cannot find it in him to hate that voice. At least this way he knows that he still remembers what Johnny sounds like.

____________

It’s after a long mission when it happens, the longest since Johnny’s death. It’s a mission where they all barely make it out of the crumbling building, still in enemy territory. Where Ghost asks, without turning, without thinking:

“You with me, Johnny?”

And he almost hears it. Almost.

Ye know it, LT.

Instead, his question is met with deafening silence. With a pitying glance exchanged by Gaz and Price, and then, so fucking unwelcome, the Captain’s hand on his arm.

“Son-”

Ghost shrugs him off. His warmth is not the one he craves. He leaves them behind, just leaves, in spite of the area not being cleared, and the mines in the ground, and the fact that it’s not safe to do so. Doesn’t care enough whether he lives or dies, but that’s not new. Johnny made him want to live again, but he is gone. Still, Ghost has never left his team behind before. Not ever. No one fights alone. Except he does, now. Won’t drag the rest down with him, though.

He just can’t bear that terrible look in their eyes when they stare at him anymore: Like he is hollow and they want to fill him with their pain. Can’t listen to Price asking him how he is coping one more time, because if they send him to psych eval it’s all over.

Ghost almost gets shot for going alone. Price almost goes up into flames, too close to an explosion when a bomb hits, gets a new scar for it. Gaz gets a knife in the side and almost bleeds out on the side of the road like a fucking animal.

Price makes Ghost take more leave after that. Another week, he says. At least. Nobody needs to know about this. You just go and get your head on straight, son. Like that could fix anything. Like Ghost could ever sleep, could ever recover. Like a week away from the pillow he stole out of Soap’s room and still hasn’t washed because he can pretend it still smells like him is not the worst thing Price could ask of him.

And so, Ghost decides that the pain in his hollow heart can’t possibly get any worse.

He gets on his bike, and he rides up to Glasgow without stopping even once. If he did, he is afraid he might hear Johnny’s voice in his ear.

What the feck are ye doin’, LT? Yer absolutely fucked in the heid, ye are.

The engine roars between his thighs, his fingers freezing, but he left his proper riding gloves on base, can only stare at the white of the bones painted on the thin fabric ones he is wearing. Doesn’t matter. He’s endured worse. His body has not felt like his own in so long that this pain isn’t really his, either.

The only times Ghost has felt at home in his own body was when Soap’s touches anchored him to it: Finally, a Ghost captured in physical form. And Soap never even knew. Always so casual about his touches, giving them out so freely, as if they are not the holiest thing Ghost has ever experienced. Fingers always finding an excuse to linger on Ghost’s arm, tugging at his vest, tapping the hard shell of his mask, sliding along the soft fabric of his balaclava. He never knew Ghost’s heart beat faster, felt alive in his chest only when Soap’s warm fingers found their way to him. He never knew.

Memories come crashing in, of the first time he gave Soap a ride, way back when they barely knew each other. Soap’s sturdy arms slung around Ghost’s waist, Soap’s chin pressed between Ghost’s shoulder blades as the miles flew by. The warmth of him enveloping Ghost’s chest. Ghost had wished that ride would last forever. Even back then, before he even admitted it to himself. Way before he knew what to call that feeling that cleaved him in two, the one that bubbled up deep inside his bones whenever Johnny looked at him with his crooked nose and his canine smile.

Johnny was like sunlight, when they were alone. Warm laughter reserved for Ghost and Ghost only. Always touching him, cracking jokes, never discouraged by Ghost’s awkward quietness. Soap was the epicentre of his life, and slowly, so slowly not even Ghost had really noticed, he had become the one thing that Ghost orbited around. The sun of his very own solar system, the one part that sustained life on the cold and barren planet of Ghost’s heart.

Ghost hadn’t known back then. Hadn’t known why he’d said yes when Soap asked him if he could give him a ride to the airport. Or at least he had pretended; had almost convinced himself it had nothing to do with the prospect of Soap’s warm, heavy body clinging to his own.

Two weeks of leave, Price had promised back then, on their way to exfil when the mission finally ended. And Soap, new and fresh-faced and hands still dripping in blood, had sidled up to Ghost and casually asked, with thick consonants and long vowels:

“Oy LT, give a lad a ride tae the airport? Ain’t got mah car on base jus’ yet. Whole thing came as a bit of a surprise, really. Bein’ called in tha’ is. Hate tae take the bus lookin’ like this, might jus’ give the fainter hearted a wee bit of a scare, aye?”

Ghost didn't know why he said yes. Wouldn't have said yes if it had been anyone else.

But it was Soap, and so he did, despite the fact that they had only just met. But Ghost already knew what Soap’s hands looked like when he killed, and how his eyes went wild when he pulled a trigger, and how softly his chest heaved when he turned around to ask Ghost of all people if he was alright. He knew the feeling of Soap’s thigh bumping into his own on the heli, and the dumb jokes he made even in the midst of battle. So he said yes.

And on the bike, Soap had clung to him like a compact, muscular backpack, laughing when the adrenaline rush of speed and highway hit him.

“Alright, Johnny?”

“Tha gu math, tannasg.”

Ghost didn't ask what the words meant, didn't want to know. Let himself pretend they were a sign of affection. Johnny’s words from Johnny’s holy tongue, even back then. If Ghost didn’t know what they meant, he could pretend they were full of adoration, the singsong of the Gaelic vowels so strange to his ears.

It had been the first time Ghost had called him Johnny, way back on the bike, riding through the night warmed by the heat of his own personal sun. Ghost hadn’t even realised it in the moment, the way the name had just slipped past his lips. Talking to Soap was so much easier than talking to anyone else, even back then, when they had barely known each other.

Now, Ghost revs his bike until the loud engine drowns out everything, even the memory of Soap’s voice in his ear.

___________

Glasgow is fucking ugly, but Ghost is not here for the city. He is here for Johnny.

He doesn't stop at a hotel, doesn't stop for food. Pisses on the side of the road and keeps going. He’s so close. Johnny is so close.

The cemetery is just as lonely as he remembers. Oddly beautiful, this city for the dead, quiet and empty, full of sorrow and grief. Ghost fits right in. He wanders, mask tugged up high on his face, hiding the deep scars named after this city he has started to hate so much since it isn’t home to the one he loves any longer; hands buried in the pockets of his jacket to protect them from the cold. A Ghost haunting the dead.

Johnny’s grave is on the western end of the necropolis. Ghost barely remembers anything else, the day of Johnny’s burial a faint memory, drenched in unbearable grief, fucking heavy with it. He prefers not to think of it. But he thinks of it now, meandering between ancient tombs and fresh graves, calling into memory all the cruel details of that day: Gaz’s eyes rimmed red, the smoke clinging to Ghost’s fingers in spite of the fact he hasn't smoked in days. Price’s voice, breaking only once while reading the standard issue eulogy. A woman with eyes as blue as Soap’s and freckles just like his, her hair greyed and her face wrinkled with the sun, hunched over and sobbing as the service goes on. Ghost had fled before he could hear her speak, had known that hearing Johnny’s familiar brogue from her lips would break him clean in half.

Now, Ghost is freezing in the mist of the sinking sun, wandering across the necropolis of Glasgow. He buries his hands deeper in his pockets and wonders if just one cigarette would disturb the peace of the dead. Wonders if the presence of a Ghost could stir the spectres of old.

He tugs his mask higher and his hood lower; shivering and lost in thought. He’s been awake for so long that his dark eyes almost miss the familiar name he never wanted to read on a tombstone in the first place:

John MacTavish.

It’s worse than Ghost expected. So much worse.

To know where Johnny’s body lies, no more than six feet away, rotting and alone is… it kills him. Kills him all over again, squeezes around his heart, crushes his lungs and seeps into his bones like ice until Ghost drops to his knees.

The tombstone is ugly and heavy and grey, and the font is something Ghost would never have picked, though eerily familiar. It’s not something that speaks of Johnny, who’s always been so full of life. It’s classic, large block lettering, spelling out his name, and Ghost hates every second of care that was taken to etch it into granite. Johnny’s name should not be engraved in dead stone.

It takes Ghost a moment to realise why it seems so familiar: that the curves and arcs of the letters are the same as on his own tombstone, the one that was written ages ago. When he became the Ghost.

Here liesSimon RileyNon omnis moriar.

It makes him laugh; a bitter, humourless sound. The memory of his own inscription sounds so much more natural in Ghost’s head than Johnny’s name. Johnny wasn’t made to die like Simon was. He shouldn't be dead; it should have been Ghost in that building, Ghost with that bullet hole in his skull, Ghost haunting the love he never had. Not Johnny. Never Johnny.

Ghost kneels beside Johnny’s grave and permits himself to cry.

I’ve missed you, he whispers, with shaking breaths echoed back onto his face within his mask. God, Johnny, how I’ve missed you.

His pale fingers gently touch the earth that covers the body of the only person he has ever allowed himself to love, and tears drip from his face, soak his mask, taste salty on his tongue. Ghost loses himself in it for a while, tries to get his heart to keep beating even if it doesn’t want to. Tries not to let himself be eaten by the unbearable grief this place holds. Tries not to remember the way Johnny’s lashes fluttered across his cheeks when he looked up at him, or how soft his hair was under Ghost’s fingers even while matted with blood.

Eventually, that thought is the one that permeates through the heavy grief: How empty GHost’s hands are, nothing for him to touch, to help him feel alive, to commemorate his being here. Nothing but dirt. Ghost didn’t bring anything. No flowers, no candle. Nothing to leave for Johnny, no gift to give to the dead.

He should have brought something. Something in return for what he will eventually take.

Ghost sheds his gloves with shaking fingers, wants to bury his hands in the dirt of Johnny’s grave to leave a mark. To prove that he is still real, that he has been here.

He doesn't.

He just sits quietly, stories rattling in his brain. He wants to tell Johnny everything, everything about these past few months.

Let me tell you all you’ve missed, Johnny.

But he can’t remember any of it. All of it is one blur, one mission, one distraction. Time without Johnny makes no sense when Ghost recalls it. It just… doesn't matter. Ghost lets his silent words flow into the dirt of Johnny’s grave until he runs out.

He is shivering, his mask wet with salty tears, his heart still pounding in his chest. Nothing feels real anymore, but Ghost doesn't mind. Because Johnny is there, right there. Ghost can nearly smell him, hear him, see him. If he pressed one ear to the ground, he would be able to hear the maggots tearing at Johnny’s flesh.

He doesn't do that either.

Just closes his eyes and tries to imagine what Johnny would sound like if he answered him.

Those are some good fuckin’ stories, LT. Finally some entertainment, an’ all Ah had tae do was die, aye? I’m jus’ jokin’- jus’ jokin’. God, Ah missed ye too, Ghost.

A large hand on his shoulder, with fingers too thick to be as gentle and precise as they are. Ghost can almost feel it. He’s right there.

Until he is not, and Ghost is alone in the rain again.

It takes Ghost forever to get the courage to leave. Now that he’s here, he wants nothing but to stay close to Johnny. To guard his body like a watchdog. Johnny is his. Even in death.

Simon takes a breath.

When he finally pushes himself up, something sharp digs into the palm of his hand- a rock, hidden in the earth. Blood drips from Simon’s palm, is soaked up immediately by the dirt. Simon stares. A thin trickle of blood makes its way down to his fingertips, forming another drop. And another.

Simon’s blood soaks the earth of Johnny’s grave, and Johnny’s voice rings clear in his head. Almost like he is real. Almost.

Come and get me, Simon, please. Let me be a part of yer life. Let me be warm again.

Ghost makes a decision.

________________

He does his research.

His plan haunts him, plagues him, taunts him with cruel teeth.

Yer fucked in the heid, LT, ye know tha’?

“I know that.”

Ghost can’t remember when he started talking to Johnny. A few days ago, perhaps. When the visions of him started feeling so real that he couldn’t help it, maybe. When he could see Johnny pout if he didn’t answer, hear the way his brogue thickens with annoyance.

Do nae ignore me, Ghost. It’s rude.

“I’m not ignorin’ you, Johnny.”

Ghost only ignores Johnny when there’s people around. Sometimes he responds quietly even then, counting on his mask covering up the movement of his lips. It’s hard not to answer when Johnny calls. Ghost never ignored him when he lived; Ghost always answered. Interactions played through a hundred times, a thousand even. Johnny calls, and Ghost answers. Ghost calls, and Johnny responds.

Yer a fuckin’ madman.

“I know, Johnny.”

It’s become second nature to soothe him. Soothe the voice in his own head. Because that’s all it is. Right? Ghost has always been a mad bastard. This is just a new symptom.

He twirls a knife between his fingers as he reads. And reads. And reads.

Glasgow has extensive libraries, and Ghost knows exactly what he needs to find out. All he has to do is gather information, and Ghost is nothing if not thorough and methodical in his recon.

He calls Price and asks to extend his leave. Price sounds eager to agree.

“Take your time, son. Take all the time you need. I know- I know these last few months have been hard on you. We all miss him, you know-”

Ghost hangs up. He shouldn’t – Price is still his superior officer. But the pity in his voice, audible even through the phone, disgusts him. Ghost is not a thing to be pitied. Ghost has a plan.

He asks around, asks everyone he can think of asking. Is glad for the mask with every wry look his odd questions earn him. But he doesn’t let up. He finds the people that can tell him what he needs to know, and he doesn't even have to torture anyone for it.

I promised you something, Johnny. I’m not leaving you.

Johnny, who has taken up residence in the chair in the corner of the room, blood dripping onto the upholstery from the hole in the side of his head, nods in satisfaction.

Aye, LT. I’d bloody well hope so. Ye left me once already.

Ghost’s heart cramps and stumbles. He did. He did leave him. Leave him to go into that building alone, leave him in that coffin. Left him more than once.

I’m sorry, Johnny.

Words his lips have never said. Words Johnny never heard. But he hears them now, shifting forward, dripping blood into a small puddle on the floor.

Ah know ye are. Yer fixin’ it now.

Ghost nods to himself. He has more reading to do.

He loses time, sometimes. Loses track of it, gets lost in it. Talks to Johnny for hours, stares at the image of him and tries to remember every detail. It doesn’t hurt less than it did back on the day he died. Never gets better. Ghost should be used to it, is used to it, could get used to it if it was anyone else.

But Soap’s lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and his freckles seem so oddly out of place. His face has always been too beautiful for violence, Ghost thinks. He closes his eyes and talks to him, remembers everything Johnny has ever said to him and lets himself pretend that it’s really Johnny talking back. That this is a mission like any other, Soap on the other side of his headset. Soap in the other room as they stake out a place. Soap sleeping next to him, his large body curled up like a cat. Because that is what Johnny looks like when he sleeps. Ghost knows that, has seen it a hundred times.

He talks to nobody Johnny, he eats, he sleeps, he reads. Finds out everything he needs to know. Loses time here and there, and barely even notices.

Only when he is sure that he has found the right way to do it will he get to work. He can’t afford to fuck this up.

Soap deserved the best. Johnny deserves even better.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── Previous Chapter ← ⋆ → Next Chapter ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

How much worse can it get, you ask? So much worse, is my answer.

@ulchabhangorm @purgetrooperfox @captav @kimiheartblade @gibsalotdoodles @staygoldnimoy @blinca

#a borrowing of bones #abob #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #ghoap #mcd #ghoap whump #ghost x soap #neyo's fishtank #modern warfare #cod mw #cod mw reboot #cod

25 notes · View notes