#i tried something different 🧘🏾‍♀️

[0risha]

HELLOOO, FIRST OF ALL CONGRATS ON 1K FOLLOWERS ! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU, YOU DESERVED IT, YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD, WHEN I DISCOVERED YOUR BLOG I BINGE READED ALL YOUR WORKS CAUSE THEYRE SO EJF'EKFB !❤️😭 I'm late for the 1st and 2nd product so may I ast for the 3rd : timestamp 3AM with a female reader and Geto Suguru with the song Strawberry & Cigarette by Troye Sivan and for the genre as you want, I trust your writing skills hehe (just not something too angst bc I don't want to cry😩) THANKYOUUU

「 3 : 00 AM + STRAWBERRIES & CIGARETTES 」

tags... slight angst + slight jjk manga spoilers + fem!reader + reader is in a situationship with geto??

notes... bae kdjdj I licherally love you sm. I'm so, so glad that you like my works. me goodness you're making me smile so harddd, I really hope you like this timestamp I wrote for you... I hope it's not too angsty. the song was like... not SAD but really bittersweet 😭😭

ORISHA'S 1K EVENT :: CLOSED

it's too hot.

it feels as though the room's humidity has wiggled into your flesh and decided to breathe it's next cycle down your bones. beads of sweat choose home at the base of your neck but you don't care to wipe it away.

you're afraid that one mishap would wisp geto elsewhere and with the way his eyes bore into your own, it's bound to happen.

"you haven't talked to me in the longest." you purse your lips as his expression morphs into confusion because of your words. his confusion is genuine. with that in heed, a ball of flammable material sits in your throat. by your sides, your hands twitch and form into fists because now, there's a god-awful itch.

"it didn't seem like you wanted to." there's enough truth; he's been closed off lately, sharp-edged and washed anew.

you want to ask but you want him to pour out every truth on the tiled ground beneath you. geto's always been so easy with words, in conveying his thoughts (something you've wholeheartedly admired) but he's changed.

geto suguru has wilted into a person you don't know, cultivated into a hidden bud. and his eyes no longer tinge with familiarity.

but whether the sound of echoing cicadas outside was loud or low, it didn’t matter. you just needed to carry your words to him, to imprint them into (what you still hoped to be) that unwavering soul of his. who knew if you would be given another chance?

though before you can, he’s talking, muttering a few words with the voice that had always caused the butterflies in your stomach to go in a frenzy. your wrist burns, the bracelet he’d given to you clamped onto your skin.

and at first, his words don’t register, seeing that it’s more than likely your body knows what you should or shouldn’t hear. 

"do you have a cigarette?" his divergence pulls a scowl from your lip.

when you don’t answer, he leans closer and you don't have the gall to move back. you can’t talk either because every function is aimed at keeping your only thought saddled close in mind.

but it's his closeness that sets you off.

"no, i don't. you're asking the wrong person."

he snorts, deep and low. it sounds like the old him. "you sure? ieiri doesn't buy an extra pack for you?"

you sigh, pulling out a small, rectangular box.

"we're not supposed to smoke in here."

"yaga won't mind." he would definitely mind but you don’t offer a rebuttal.

"here." you always have a lighter in your back pocket. 

the air mends with the smell of bitter smoke and your laughter. geto always had a tendency to only crack jokes when night towered, something about the throes of his prior missions finally letting him go. 

"[........], forgive me." your smile falters, the bubble of temporary joy wanes then disappears.

"forgive you for what?" a warm palm envelopes your cheek. unconsciously, you press further into it, gazing into his eyes. even though it's dark, you know that they're the color of dark verbena.

"just forgive me." the meaning of his words hang in the air; i can't tell you.

"geto–" before you can finish, he's pressing his forehead against yours and you can feel his breath on your lips.

but you're leaning in and he's pulling away.

"thank you for the cigarette. i'll see you tomorrow." he turns with a wave. you blink, brain stuck in a stupor, eyes set on his retreating figure.

"geto!" you start but falter, the two syllables leaving your lips with regret that rattled your bones.

—

later, when you hear word of geto's crimes, you don't react the way you would have envisioned. instead, you reminisce, shuffling through moments with a small smile. 

perhaps you'd already seen it, the litany of madness beneath his words, his actions, his touch. the colors of it were in no way erasable, already following him since that instance or birth, tucked beneath his liver; tied to his fate. and perhaps you’d already forgiven him.

—

he turns back, long hair swishing in tune with movement. "mhm?"

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

"have a nice night, geto."

he smiles. it's genuine. "you too."

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