#yes the title is a lamp song sue me

[riaki]

— last train at 25 o' clock | suguru geto x reader fluff(???)/light angst @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat please take this bc coffee shop geto is gonna take a bit

it's 1am in the morning, the train platform's a ghost town, and the hum of the vending machine is all the noise in the world as you and suguru wait for the last ride home after a mission.

wc : 2.6k cw : brief mentions of blood ; references to hidden inventory arc , shoko typical smoking , probably some other stuff i'm forgettin not proofread!!!! also he may be ooc srry

i cooked this up last minute cus i remembered my promise of posting every weekend last week so my bad if u can tell its rushed lol post hidden inventory pre defection

suguru remembers it like it was yesterday.

the song of summer insects reaches your ear as you clamber up to the train station platform; a pandemonium of cicadas and crickets that sing odes to the full moon in the sky partially curtained by dark clouds and the dew on the grass that's begun to form.

"damn, it's hot." you muttered, wiping your forehead as your arm shot out to grab the dirty railing, white paint cracked and peeled as a splinter pricks your fingers and you flinch. suguru follows after you; a small hum is your acknowledgment.

"careful. shoko doesn't like dealing with splinters," he says from behind you, stepping up the stairs two at a time to straighten up on the train platform, hands in his pockets. “i don’t have reversed curse technique healing either.” there's the smell of a storm in the air, and the lights overhead buzz and flicker with the intermittent beat of a moth's wings. you just give a dip of your head in acknowledgement as you pry your hand away from the railing, the scent of old wood lingering on your hand as you wipe off the dust clinging to your palm on your pants.

(geez, you two have no sense for these types of things.)

suguru holds a hand out, and you take it eagerly to let him pull you up the last step, before politely letting go and slipping it back into his pocket once more. you let out an exhausted sigh and stand up, rubbing your tired eyes as you look around.

the platform is deserted save for the stray cat beneath the station bench, sniffing at a clump of weeds growing from the metal leg. there's a vending machine up against the wall to the elevator, an obnoxious painted 'out of order' sign on the lift's muddy glass doors, stained with dust, dirt, and fingerprints. there's some... creative graffiti on the wall, and a starch yellow section of caution tape flutters in the humid evening wind.

the cat scratches at the concrete floor, and its matted white fur and crystal blue eyes remind you of someone. you glance up at suguru, poking his arm to get his attention.

"look. it's satoru." you huffed, still a little loose for breath as you reach out and grab his shoulder, leaning against him for support. the dark-haired boy just laughs a little, taking his phone out to snap a picture and no doubt send it to the white-haired brat. "i see it." he leans a little closer to you; it's subtle, and you don't notice it, but the way his shoulders sag just so you have an easier time holding on speaks volumes. "don't send it to him! he's probably asleep right now. think it's past his evening sugar high?" you asked, glancing up at him with a tilt of your head.

"most likely. i think he got sent on another solo mission today." there's a tiny bitter bite to suguru's voice that underlines its usual velvetiness; like an ocean current beneath the waves that you only find once you've been dragged underwater. you don't say anything about it, though. the sleeves of his uniform crumple beneath your fingers when they curl into the fabric, a shiver running down your spine as goosebumps spring up on your skin like shroom caps after the summer rain.

suguru is observant.

"you cold? you can have my jacket." it's immediate, and his voice is as smooth as cream silk and marble as he shrugs your hand off (much to your dismay-- shown with a bite to your cheek) to unbutton his uniform jacket, slipping it off his shoulders and offering it to you. when you stand there, feeling a little daze and a lot tired, he just smiles, shoving it in your face with a low chuckle that sounds like honey pouring from a jar.

"you sure? you can hug a cursed spirit if you get cold, 'cus you're not getting it back." you sighed after a moment, reluctantly taking his jacket and tugging it over your shoulders. it's warm, and it smells like his cologne- like some natural incense that soothes your nerves and loosens your body to the marrow in your weary bones. you bury your nose in it and forget to think about the warm hue on your cheeks that you'll later chalk up to the humid air.

"i'm sure." the cat by the bench perks up, staring directly in your direction. it yawns, before bounding away, disappearing behind the vending machine with a flick of its cloud white tail. the machine is missing a few rows of drinks, but the green of a melon soda can that's far too saturated to have a name to the original fruit and the cream and red of a yakult bottle are enough to catch your eyes beneath the harsh light of the display.

"still don't understand how you get cold on a night like this, though." he makes a gesture towards 'this' with one hand, fingers flexing in a way that makes your heart flutter unreasonably.

a moment of silence passes; you can see the distant lights of some prefecture over the hill, and your mind briefly wanders to rainy afternoons, puddles reflecting the red neon of passing cars and distorted faces under plastic umbrellas sandwiched between painted concrete and a dark sky.

"you want a drink? on me, as thanks." you say, breaking the sound of silence and nodding towards the vending machine as you look up at suguru. it takes him a moment to respond, so you use the opportunity to admire his profile; the slope of his nose, the deep hazel of his eyes that shine a copper rust beneath the pale yellow light overhead. his hair is a little messy; it's falling out of its slicked back bun, a product of your earlier fight. there's a scrape on your ankle from tripping through the bush in an attempt to put distance between the curse when you had been engaged earlier; it still stings. there's a tightness to his jaw, you notice- and some part of you wishes you could take it for yourself.

the section of dark hair in front of his face sways as he turns to look down at you, gaze charting the corners of your face (your cheeks look soft, he notes) before he opens his mouth to speak.

one kick to the machine, a disappointed frown when nothing comes out, and two yen bills later, the pop of can tabs fills your ears as condensation seeps into your skin, a pleasant relief from the heaviness of the summer air. it's too much when the cold side of a drink is pressed to your cheek, though-- and you let out a yelp of protest, shooting a quick glare up at suguru, who just laughs it off and takes a sip of his drink.

you down a sip of your own; it's a sweet fruit tea that's your go to whenever it's hot out. sweet, citrusy, like starfruit. it tastes like a summer of youth and a warm blue spring. it's pleasant.

a distant rumble echoes from the dark horizon, and both of your gazes simultaneously snap towards it-- at last, you think. the last train is here. you adjust suguru's jacket around your shoulders, catching a whiff of something that smells like rosemary and new leather as his voice fills your ears.

it's an easy night when you pass the threshold and step into the train car, speckled white floors and blue hard seats greeting you. somewhere, there's a ticket stuffed into one of your pockets; a memento of late evenings that blend into early mornings when there's a bruise on your face and a knick on suguru's wrist that soothe themselves with the harmony of small talk and sensation of fizzling bubbles in cold metal cans as the train jostles you along. you're sitting, and he's standing, one arm on the hangers overhead as you talk about everything and nothing. he catches himself every now and then, watching with minimal interest as the sliding doors part themselves like gateways to the afterlife for ghost passengers. it's not your stop yet; far from it.

"say, suguru-- do you miss going on missions with satoru?" you asked after a moment, fingers drumming against your knees as the automated voice overhead announces the next stop, empty farm plots and tangles of wire passing by as the lights inside cozy houses dim and go off.

he doesn't answer that, so you just look out the window.

(suguru, you gettin' enough sleep? heatstroke?)

"how's the cut on your leg?" he finally murmurs after a moment, his eyelids heavy before he tears his gaze away from a tacky advertising on the wall and back to your scrunched nose.

"annoying." you just sighed, and you watched as he gave a small smile; his eyes fluttering shut, long lashes resting against his cheeks. you wondered if the wings of a butterfly would be heavy enough to weigh them down.

he moves after a second, sitting down one seat away from you in a swift motion and beckoning for you to lift your leg. you comply, not entirely sure where it's going- until he gently rolls the hem of your pant leg up, pressing the cold edge of his half-empty soda to the angry red scratch, and you wince a little before letting out one, long sigh. you melt into the chair, feeling like a senior citizen with a hunched back and one too many shrine visits under a bleached kyoto sun.

"thanks." you mumbled, leaning your head against the window as the train jostles ever so slightly to its own tracked rhythm.

he just hums in response, pulling a worn bandaid out of his pocket; the plastic top has pen smudges on it and the white wax gets caught between his pearly teeth as he tugs it off, taking time to make sure he positions the healing strip properly before flattening it down on your leg.

"shoko makes no sense when she talks about her reversed curse technique, so this'll do." he says quietly, and you let yourself fall into the pool of molasses that comes from his throat as you close your eyes, feeling the dull sensation of pain drain from your muscles and melt away like the first waves of spring and the ripple of lake water as a lone sakura petal disturbs the mirrored blue surface.

"i could learn it." you said after a moment, pressing your lips together in an attempt to snuff out the feeling of his fingers lingering on your skin, toying with the loose edge of the bandaid. he just snorts, and you crack one eye open to glare at him.

the rest of the train ride is spent in silence; you slip in and out of a hazy sleep, and you're faintly aware of the timeline-- somehow, your drink ends up on his lips. your head ends up on his shoulder, and your ears pick up his quickened heartbeat. his warmth is nothing like the humidity that clings to your skin like a layer of smoke and vapor, accompanied by sticky dango and raucous laughter weaving between the sounds of fireworks and the crunch of dirt beneath pairs of geta. he smells like home and his soft hair tickles your face as your little breaths squeeze past your parted lips, a warmth like bumping shoulders and linking fingers seeping into your body like the steady stream of fine sand in an hourglass. a warmth like empty classrooms lit by golden hour; windows cracked open to let in a fresh breeze as the faint smell of cigarette smoke drifts up to the room from the brunette and her lighter beneath the patch of shade from a tree in the courtyard below.

(need a light?)

this is how it's been for the past month. tired mumbles and hushed murmurs exchanged between two people who are more than friends but less than lovers after each harrowing mission; shared drinks and linked pinkies, the warmth that stains cheeks rosy when fingers that look small against calloused ones brush with another hand reaching for the metal pole on the train. heavy silence as you fall asleep on his shoulder; faint tingles when his fingers graze your knuckles as he stares at the dark reflection in the windows across. even the windows know how to make him relax.

one day, it'll be just him. a white bird stained black by apollo's hand in a sea of dirty geese, silent as the others hawk and squawk for a place on the lake. one hand hooked around the hard plastic of a hanger, supporting heavy shoulders with weight that could rival atlas' burden. a boy so tired of being beaten by the waves that he succumbs to the undercurrent with the same practice as before, only the paint on the railings has chipped past repair and not even the greenery of the countryside can touch the stains on the windows to his soul; eyes that used to shine with mirth and crinkle with gentle smiles become sunken and heavy with experience more suited to those a decade older.

he'd already chosen his path when he offered his jacket to you; when he laughed at the way you'd sneezed after investigating the patch of weed that had captured the stray cat's attention from before. and he knew that you'd noticed, and he knew that you'd try, and he knew that he wouldn't let you.

he knew when he woke you up with a gentle nudge to the forehead, suppressing the fluttering feeling in the heart he didn't know he still had when you made a grumpy tired face and stood up with much effort and a stumble or two.

(damn monkeys.)

it was easy nights like these that he'd eventually miss the most. walking you back to your dorm, past the candy wrappers and empty cola cans in the halls stained with imaginary blood and passing glances. departing with a kiss goodbye when he knew you were too drowsy and delirious to be able to remember it come morning.

the swing of a jazz rhythm would get stuck in his throat when you stumbled, only catching yourself from the jolt of the train's stop by latching a hand onto his wrist like some evil little lamprey and muttering a small 'sorry'. he'd laugh it off, collect the empty bottles of drinks of debt, and tug on the sleeve of his jacket on your arms, gently helping you off the platform as your pant leg slid back down to cover the bandaid on your leg, rough fabric scratching away the ghost of his touch on your skin. he wished it would just stay for a little longer.

and when the morning came and you woke up in your bed with his scent on the fabric of your shirt, you'd do it all over again. the only part of the terrible cycle he ever took pleasure in. even when the vile taste of a cursed spirit sunk into his stomach, it would be washed away with the right pop and fizzle of sugary drink followed by an even sweeter kiss to the knot between his tired eyes.

there was nothing about your time together he wouldn't ever miss.

you'd be his past, his present, and his afterlife. even when it was his turn to get off the ghost train and step past those sliding doors that held new meaning, you were the last thought on his mind.

one day, he hopes to see you again, when the last train comes in the night so late it could be considered early morning and the platform can relive old memories of peeling paint on a past summer spring once more.

hope u guys enjoyed the catoru cameo my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[horansqueen]

Harry Styles blurb

The First Time You Hear SOTT

✔ i don’t have a title. ✔ im sorry its not that good tbh ✔ its just fluff but this idea was stuck in my head ✔ its cheesy and blablabla sue me ✔ i couldnt find a proper gif for this im sorry lol ✔ you guys know i dont proofread sorry! ✔ idk tell me what you think ✔ 1.2k

"Could you please come over? I need you tonight."

Your lips curl as you read the text your boyfriend just sent you and quickly type a reply, telling him you're on your way and adding a heart emoji at the end. You don't bother dressing up, you're already wearing an old pair of sweatpants that used to be his but that ended in your drawer to your immense joy along with a ripped shirt that belongs to him too. This one smells like him since he wore it last time he came over and you didn't really want to wash it, lying to yourself and pretending that you simply 'forgot".

The drive is short and the night is warmer than you expected. You quickly find a spot to park your car near his house and grab your stuff, walking quickly to the front door. You know he's expecting you so you just open the door slowly and find the whole house in the dark. It makes you frown slightly and you lick your lips, waiting for your eyes to get used to the darkness.

"Harry?" your voice is lower than you intended and you clear your throat before to call his name again.

"In my room, love."

You smile and your heart jumps inside you chest like every single time you hear Harry's voice, especially when it's been a while. You drop your purse near the couch and throw your sweater on it, walking gently but quickly to his room. You see his shadow laying in bed and he turns his head your way before to pat on the other side of the bed, asking you to join him. You don't say anything but lay down next to him, shivering slightly as he pulls the cover over your body. You grip his hand and an other kind of shudder runs up your spine this time. Without waiting, he intertwines your fingers with his and it makes you whimper low, your lips curling even more.

It was not the first time Harry texted you late at night asking you to come over, or just showing up at your door. It never bothered you, it's actually a part of him you enjoy intensely.

"Y/N." he whispers after a few minutes of silence. "I wanted you to hear something."

You frown slightly and turn your head his way as he grabs a remote. It takes a few seconds but finally, you can hear the soft melody of a piano invade the room. You feel your heart flutter and you know exactly when Harry's voice is going to start because he holds your hand so hard it almost hurts. And you hold your breath as your eyes quickly close. You let the lyrics sink in as your heart beats hard against your rib cage. His voice gets higher and he reaches notes that make your whole body tremble. You've been moved by songs before, but this time it's different, it's on a whole different level.

This song had been a secret for so long, yet you had heard him hum it several times in the shower or simply when he was cooking. You never asked because you didn't want him to stop and you never went as far as begging him to let you hear it before it was completely done. He would have, no doubt, but you knew it was something that he didn't like to do, and you loved him too much to do that to him.

And it was worth the wait. The mix of the lyrics, his voice and the music made you feel something you had not felt very often and if you really think about it, this feeling was only alive around Harry.

His thumb rubs on the top of your hand and he even scratches your skin slightly with his nail. He is nervous, you can tell, but you try to focus on the song and everything it brings inside you. The fact that you can feel his warm body next to you makes everything even better and when you start tearing up, you decide that there was no reason for you to keep it inside. What's the point of being touched and moved by something if you're just going to force yourself to hide it? You feel tears slide down your cheeks and reach your neck and you don't bother wiping them. The bridge makes your heart twist in your chest and the ending makes you squeeze his hand even harder.

When silence comes back in the room, you remain motionless and so does Harry. You breathe in, trying to get back to your senses and finally open your eyes, wipe a tear that was tickling the skin of your neck.

"Are you crying?"

Your boyfriend's voice comes in a low breathing and you finally sniff and swallow before to clear your throat, knwowing your own voice will just break.

"Yes." your murmur.

Silence comes back again for about a minute.

"That's a good thing isn't it?"

A smile draws itself on your lips at his question but you stay motionless, letting out a low chuckle.

"Yes." you whisper again.

He keeps quiet, obviously trying to find the right question to ask you, but the only thing that comes out of his lips is one simple yet very specific question.

"So?"

It's your turn to remain silent and you know it's killing him but it seems like you can't find the right words because no words would be able to explain how his song makes you feel. No word would qualify this song correctly.

"I love you, Harry." you simply say, your voice echoing on the walls, this time. "And your song is perfect."

It takes him a few seconds but he finally turns around, still holding your hand, but lets the fingers of his other run on your stomach softly. You turn your head to look at him and smile in the darkness, his face only lighted by the halos of the street lamps outside.

"I thought you only allowd people to listen to it on your ipod." you ask, licking your lips.

He chuckles, a dimple digging itself on his left cheek, and looks up in your eyes,

"It's true, but you're different." he explains. "I wanted you to really hear it."

That confession makes something explode in your stomach and you grin before he lets go of your hand and slowly moves on top of you. A lock of his growing hair falls in front of his eyes and your let your fingers gently put it back. He eases himself between your legs as you spread them more to give him space. He stares at you and the love you have for him makes you want to cry again for some stupid reason.

"I love you too, Y/N." he breathes before to bend down and kiss your lips.

You gently wrap your arms around his neck and answer his kiss. It's slow but deep and the weight of his body over yours makes you whimper low in his mouth. He pulls away slightly and you smirk.

"Can you play it again?" you dare asking, biting your bottom lip.

It makes him chuckle some more and he reaches for the remote. Soon, you hear the piano notes invade the room again and you feel yourself start melting.

"Anything for my number one fan."

He smirks and you laugh but he stops you quickly by pressing his lips on yours again.

"We can play it all night, babygirl."