#obligatory 'sorry for not making content' post | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year ago

Text

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto.

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you.

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.”

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back.

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in.

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs.

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable.

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest.

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin.

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you.

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?”

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door.

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient.

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body.

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait.

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure.

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration.

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence.

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now.

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, ��are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils.

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question.

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope.

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think.

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less.

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view.

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates.

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes.

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer.

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest.

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left.

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me.

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated.

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along.

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now.

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?”

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that.

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want.

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever.

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it.

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee.

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee.

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee.

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee.

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee.

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt.

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead.

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful.

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either.

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession.

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too.

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too.

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too.

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again.

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says.

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips.

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body.

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs.

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat.

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act.

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall.

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?”

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out.

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure.

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this.

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out.

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys.

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen.

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes.

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere.

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked.

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?”

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs.

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face.

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering.

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost.

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs.

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together.

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur.

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree.

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?”

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow.

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence.

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump.

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask.

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not.

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement.

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before.

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile.

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak.

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about.

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree.

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response.

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh.

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy.

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case.

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop.

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word.

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky.

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too.

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are.

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles.

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time.

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you.

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop.

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back.

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety.

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur.

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter.

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates.

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder.

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto smut #toji smut #gojo smut #nanami x reader #nanami smut #higuruma x reader #higuruma x reader smut #higuruma smut #nanami x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #actually not really tbh theres no smut in tojis or gojos cant even lie #toriwritesshit

1K notes · View notes

bmbidoll · 2 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

military!baekhyun x f!reader

synopsis: as baekhyun's girlfriend, you missed him the most when he enlisted, and wanted to give him all the support you knew he needed in one of your visits, even if that meant sneaking around to make up for time apart.

content: a 4,7k words, fluff n smut baby i've kept in my drafts unfinished, but did my best to finish.

author's notes: woo!!! it's here finally!!!!!!!! if you've been waiting for this, i'm sorry for taking so long. like i said in another post, i starded struggling with the direction i wanted to go with this and couldn't quite flesh out the universe as much as i wished for. i do hope this is as enjoyable as my two other fics which received an insane amount of love i never expected to receive, i'm forever grateful.

i do not know when my next work will be posted or if i'll post one at all, but i still want to thank everyone that supported me until now. i love you forever!

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, established relationship, nonidol!au, pet names, slight size difference, semipublic sex (barely), dirty talking, fingering, oral sex f!receiving baekhyun is pussy drunk again, p in v, brief belly inflation, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, marking, slight possessiveness.

it has finally come. a dreaded time that both you and your boyfriend, baekhyun, were anxious to face.

his enlistment.

in an ideal world, you wouldn't have to distance yourself from your loved one for such a long amount of time... but as stated by law, he'd have to dedicate his next two years to the stern military of his home country. away from you.

baekhyun moped endlessly, and if he was already a clingy boyfriend, he'd get extreme by the time the unavoidable fate approached, which you'd find a bit too much if you didn't feel sad as well. he assured you that you just wouldn't see him for the first two months, when he'd receive the obligatory military training, and after that, he'd be assigned to public service, and you would at least be able to see him more often through visiting and on his off days.

for someone like baekhyun, the first days were the hardest. having to reshape his routine and manners to one that was arduous and demanding made him miss the comfort you brought him terribly, as he also felt really conscious about his buzz cut. he didn't send any pictures, to which you got slightly annoyed, but let him slide as the feeling of missing him accompanied you daily. he even had limited phone usage to a few hours, so he wasn't even be able to read your goodnight and good morning texts on time.

needless to say, baekhyun hated it. all of it. but got somewhat accustomed to the repetitive routine, adapting to what was needed from him while making some colleagues over the shared barrack.

it was only after two whole months that baekhyun was, finally, assigned to his public services, meaning he would be able to start having visiting times from relatives and friends. though he couldn't say he wasn't happily surprised when he was told that you were there since even before his break.

he strided over to the main building to find you with your summer dress, sat by the entrance with a plastic container on your hands. you seemed distracted by your own thoughts, taking a second to feel the loving presence of his gaze on you after long two months. when you noticed him, it finally took him out of his stun, with the both of you rushing towards each other with wide smiles, happy that the hardest part was over, and that you'd be able to be in each other's presence, even if for limited time.

"love..." baekhyun said as he engulfed you in strong arms. "god. I'm so glad you're here."

completing his military training was no simple feat, exerting baekhyun's muscles to the max. therefore, he gained weight in lean mass, and grew more than ever since you last saw him. it was a surprising feeling, to say the least, making you speechless.

"I missed you." he said before leaning back to see your surprised face and the warm container that you held between your bodies.

"I missed you too..." was all you could muster to speak, still somewhat baffled at the striking differences that complemented baekhyun. "I-I brought you food..." you said shyly, to which made him light up even more.

"oh my god, really? what did you bring?" he asked excitedly, already opening the container from your hands and smelling its contents with a satisfied look. it would always make you blush when he appreciated your attempts at cooking.

"i-it's just some usual meat with vegetables, I felt you could use more energy since they're making you work so hard..." you stuttered slightly, eyeing him in uniform, his already broad shoulders looked even wider, his biceps somewhat straining the fabric of the camouflaged jacket.

baekhyun smiled sweetly once again and closed the container, his face contrasting with the strong energy he exuded. "you're so thoughtful, my love. I missed your cooking the most, since the rations here are kind of bland..." he grimaced, "not to mention awful..." he whispered, but noticed your analyzing eyes.

you wanted to act normally and just indulge in his presence like usual, but you couldn't come up with any words as you took him in. he almost looked taller, if that could even be possible. your eyes found his cap, wondering how would his hair look in a buzz cut.

"what is it, love? you look so... surprised..." he said nervously, as if self-conscious with himself. he knew you were curious to see how he looked when he told you he was growing muscles by his phone, but your face still seemed taken aback.

"it's just... wow... you look so different..." you murmured, eyebrows raised. and even if you didn't mean to make him think he looked that different, he did. his skin, although still flawless, looked a bit tanned. "you're so much bigger and... sturdy... and..." you trailed off, eyes blinking as you raked his uniformed body.

"is it bad...?" baekhyun murmured as your hand found his shoulders.

instantly, your eyes went up to his, frowning in confusion when you met his worried, droopy gaze. his unconscious pout tugged your heartstrings.

"what do you mean bad...? you could never look bad, even if you tried." you said, wondering what were his thoughts as he breathed deeply.

you knew that it's been a while, but you didn't ever think you'd find him anything less than strikingly handsome.

"it's just that... I feel like a different person, and I wasn't really sure if you'd like me like..." he trailed off, signaling downwards to his body, "this." he looked downwards, but found your eyes as you pulled his chin back to face you, making your heart skip at the cuteness of his wish to appease you even in times where the only thing you cared about was seeing him healthy.

"oh, baekhyun," you hummed fondly, caressing his cheek, pulling his head closer to touch your foreheads, closing your eyes as you spoke, "I don't think there could ever be a world where I didn't think you look good, and even if so, I wouldn't care." you opened your eyes, meeting his with a smile, "besides, you'll always be my puppy boyfriend, no matter how you look."

that made him smile genuinely, closing his eyes as he chuckled while basking silently in the gracing presence of you, who made him so much more sure of himself.

but that wasn't enough for you.

you wanted him to know just how much you liked him like this. you cleared your throat mustering courage you didn't normally have, trying to keep your eyes locked with his. "and..." you started, swallowing dry. "do you realize just... how sexy you look like this...?"

that seemed to turn a switch on his head, his eyes opening wide to find your shy ones. his mouth opened and closed a few times, his eyebrows jumping, as multiple emotions passed through his head, making you nervous if your words were appropriate.

it took him a few seconds for him to register your words, but the closeness of you and the way you wanted to go out of your way to make him feel better made his eyes narrow with a newfound glint.

"is that so, love...?" he lowered his tone, looking at how you sheepishly eyed his bigger biceps, making him flex them unconsciously, as his hands started descending on your body innocently. this made him lower his gaze as well to your summer dress, thinking about how it conveniently fell above your knees.

baekhyun pulled your waist closer to indulge in your presence more properly, sniffing your neck in a way that sent you goosebumps all over. your eyes widened in search of anyone that could possibly be near.

"w-wait, baekhyun, what are you doing...?" you stuttered as he breathed in your neck, keeping you still with his large hands on your waist, your own holding out his torso. luckily, the weren't any people around except for a cadet on the front desk, who wasn't even paying close attention to your interaction.

"I just missed you so much, my angel... you smell so good..." he whispered on your ear, sending even more shivers through your whole body, awakening a familiar feeling that started stirring on your lower stomach, mostly due to how long you went without having him close that way.

"y-you should eat your food before it gets cold... how long is your break...? thirty minutes?" you murmured back, gulping at the way he looked at you.

the last time you saw that look in front of you was two months ago, when he had the brilliant idea of making mementos for when you separated. the making of such actually lasted three whole days, and when you looked at the folder again after he enlisted, you noticed he left even more 'gifts' as a surprise.

you used that folder a lot since then.

"as much as I love your cooking with all my heart... there's something else I'm craving to eat, love." baekhyun said close to your lips, which were somehow even more tantalizing than he remembered. the way you bit them when nervous was enough to make him grovel in want.

you blinked so many times, feeling your heart do somersaults in your ribcage. the words he said were so cheeky, you wanted to laugh at his face and roll your eyes, but you were just so... weak.

"are you crazy?! we're kind of in the open of your base!" you whisper-shouted, looking at the cadet who worked on the front desk, staring at his computer with a stressful look.

"do you trust me?" was what baekhyun said amdist your protests, making you nod despite feeling unsure of what he had on his mind.

he asked another question closer to your face, not caring if the other saw it. "do you miss me?" and you were sure he meant more than just missing his presence.

but yes.

yes, you did.

your conviction surpassed your hesitation by a mile. you missed your boyfriend so much that only you and him knew how much it took a toll on you emotionally, and god knows he feels guilty, despite having no control over your situation. despite you making the most effort to cherish every little thing he could give you.

he looked at the reception cadet with a determined look, approaching his desk confidently. "hey, daegu guy! captain said it's your turn to unclog the toilet. he's kind of in a bad mood today, so I think you should go right now if you don't want to do 300 push-ups."

"what the fuck? again? I already did that twice this week, holy shit." the cadet mumbled before standing up to hurry outward towards the camps with annoyance.

before you could ask what baekhyun was thinking, he pulled you swiftly past the visiting area, looking around for a specific section. your mouth parted in a gasp and your heartbeat sped up, but he soon found the small storage room that was by the end of a deserted hallway, pulling you inside.

"baekhyun, what are we—" you tried to speak, but he interrupted your question and crashed his lips against yours, which were successful at shutting you up.

he pushed you against the door, locking it blindly behind you while his body pinned you in place. "I found this place a few weeks ago. been using it to take a breather ever since. no one comes here."

he pecked you repeatedly, licking your lips desperately as he murmured hoarsely. "missed you... so fucking bad." it made you part your lips to breathe, something he was already expecting as he pushed his tongue inside while his hands already rushed under your dress skirt to squeeze your stockinged thighs. you heard him effectively growl when he felt your garterbelts, making you blush and your eyes flutter, it didn't help how his blunt nails tried scratched your hip.

"you're such a fucking vixen for me, aren't you, my angel?" his voice murmured on your ear as he started kissing your neck, alternating his wet kisses with nibbles that made your breath hitch. you have dealt with desperate baekhyun before a few times, but this was a whole different level.

it's not like you wanted something to happen at this visit, since you didn't even think you'd get alone time with him. maybe your subconscious just craved the feeling of dressing for him.

"I just wanted to... d-dress prettily to meet y-you...!" you strained to get your words out without whimpering, scared of being found out.

"that's okay, love. you're gonna look the prettiest coming all over my face. do you want that?" baekhyun hummed in your ear, making you widen your eyes in a short circuit of your thoughts.

he was being serious. you knew that tone quite well.

"h-here?!" you gasped with a blush, making him lean back to caress your face in a more contained expression. he sighed, cupping both your cheeks.

"if you don't want it, we can just hold each other. that's fine by me, you know that." his voice said lovingly, contrasting with the fire you still feel from feeling his rock hard chest on yours.

you know you would be lying if the thought of being made his with the risk of getting caught didn't excite you, it wouldn't even be the first time. you felt your lower body even more bothered, making you bite your lip as you thought about the consequences, finding his eyes after a few seconds.

his eyes watched you with his own amount of care, undoubtedly making your heart flutter with the way you could drown in them. you touched his cheeks with newfound comfort, taking his cap off to caress his buzz cut, catching him off guard. the short strands felt foreign on your fingertips. your nails easily grazing his scalp without his usual fluffy curls, making him hum lowly and close his eyes.

you knew you had him, which only made your want more prominent, knowing you could trust him with your life.

"I miss... feeling you, baekhyun." you murmur, watching the way his eyes easily darken from your gentle words, but not quite satisfied. "so yes... i... want this with you." you finished, seeing his soft grin on his face, knowing your next actions would be anything but.

"then stay quiet for me, love. can you do that for me?" he murmured, pushing his face onto your neck, venturing with nibbles under your ear that made your hairs stand. his hand slipped further under your summer dress, finally reaching your plush behind and squeezing your flesh tightly under your garments. his breathing grew ragged as his lips bit your pale skin with gentle love bites.

"god I missed your smell all over me. so damn sweet." you heard him say as he pulled your skirt over your hips, exposing your lower half as he kneeled in front of you, his eyes fixed on your face before finding your lace. one of many he's gifted you.

"so fucking pretty..." baekhyun groaned on your thighs as his hand pressed against your panties. "and incredibly wet, aren't you? does my girl miss me that bad, that just a few words can get her like this, hm?" he said, pressing against your clit without even looking.

he knew your body by heart, knowing how much you'd have to control yourself not to make any loud noise. you bit your lower lip, nodding your head pathetically as you looked down at him pressing his nose against the soaked fabric, sniffing it like a madman.

you gasped his name quietly, feeling him pull your garments aside to shove his tongue inside with a deep groan.

"god, you're so delectable. I was losing my mind with not being able to eat you out every couple of days..." baekhyun hummed between your folds, sending vibrations that obligated you to bite your hand, your eyes glassy as your mind registered the noises made by his mouth on you.

he lapped skillfully, eventually moving under your dress and breaking your line of sight, but the way he worked you made you sure you'd be unable to focus your thoughts on anything. you felt your panties moving further down, with him coaxing you to carefully lift your trembling legs over his shoulders, sustaining your weight with ease along the door behind you as he tossed the lace back.

"gonna make you come at least once before I enter you, love." he breathed raggedly, making you flinch at the insertion of his index that found your spot within seconds, curling repeatedly in a stinging, yet delicious stretch.

he shushed you softly, kissing your dripping inner thigh before he inserted another, making you swat the door behind you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself when his thumb found your clit.

"got so tight over just a few weeks... your fingers don't suffice, right baby? are you using the gifts I left you with?" baekhyun murmured devilishly, and you swore you'd cuss him if you could.

he eventually slapped your core before nibbling and suckling on your bundle, not ceasing his fingers that pushed in and out of your throbbing center with ease.

baekhyun drove you to tears every time he ate you out, and being without him was harder than you ever realized.

he was an artist with the way he touched you, loved you, devoured you. it was like he could reach the deepest parts of you only with his fingers, your own paling in comparison.

"so pretty. so, so damn pretty. fucking dreamed of you in those barracks." he cursed, raising your mind too high for comfort, and you were glad you could stop your voice as your tight coil snapped, flowing over his face and fingers.

you thighs trembled, your hands shook against the door behind you while you let out a silent scream over the hard bite he left on your inner thigh. his way of leaving a mark.

you panted silent, barely registering as baekhyun held you up, standing up between your legs as he took your lips, awakening you from your afterglow in a ravishing kiss.

your worries were now last priority as you cupped his head, meeting his lips and tongue with a bit of teeth, tugging his lower lip to earn a low groan of your name.

"I love you." he said softly, but the way he undid his camo pants was anything but contained, making you look down as your hand found his throbbing need with rapidness.

"I love you too." you hummed, stroking him as your foreheads met, seeing him struggle not to moan at the feeling of your soft, warm palm.

you were about to raise one leg around his waist, but he was quicker, raising your whole body against the door, prodding the tip of his cock over your entrance, surpising you.

"ready?" he murmured, hearing your instant response and entering your soaked walls with a moan that you were quick to stop with a kiss, tangling your tongues while he bottomed out within you in a brief strain, making you frown slightly.

"fuck... oh fuck, you're squeezing me–!" baekhyun hissed, his eyes closed as you gripped his uniform. "you okay? am i hurting you...?" he hummed, his eyes finding yours in soft concern amidst holding his grip against your tight one.

"n-no... i'm fine, just... been a bit." you breathed, your other hand finding his cheek as you shook your head. "just start slow, please..." you said, making him nod repeatedly as his hips started a gentle, torturous pace, that almost made you throw your head back against the storage room's door.

the way he felt inside was overwhelming for both, stretching you gently after two months apart. you could feel one hand finding your lower stomach to feel himself like always, his girth too much to be concealed within you.

pulsating and merciless, while at the same time, fulfilling and reassuring, like it's meant to stay there.

you kiss him, getting drunk at the feeling of just letting yourself feel him, smell him, touch him after so long. you can barely think of caring about the risk of potentially getting caught and ruining this day that was meant to be special when he starts moving his hips desperately on you. you feel his trimmed body hair tickling your hardened clit in a way that makes you pant and the corners of your eyes sting. it's too much. he's too much.

and you love it.

it's the way his strange, yet familiar grip could bruise you with way more ease, and it probably will. the way you let your tongues meet sloppily as you both pant. the way his brown eyes stare at you, nearly black with how much he's probably dreamed of having you again.

you gasp as he pulls out to turn you around and put you on your feet, pulling your hips back while pushing your dress up and entering you from behind, making you fall forward in a way that makes a considerable noise on the old door.

you bite your lip hard not to make any noise, feeling baekhyun's chest on your back, his hands wrapping around you to keep you up as he picks up his pace in deep, precise thrusts.

"god, angel... you walls are... fuckin—" he grunted, "throbbin' around me... so fucking good." he panted onto your neck, kissing your skin that gradually dampened from your exertion.

you could barely keep your eyes open trying to look behind your shoulder, but felt him pushing your shoulder blades forward making your ass stick up unto his cock, which entered you in a hard slapping sound.

"f-faster... baekhyun..." you hummed, your forehead onto the door as your arms struggled to keep from banging on it from his roughness.

"yeah...? you want it faster, doll? want my cock pumping onto you the way you love...? take it." baekhyun hissed, pushing your hips back to meet another deep thrust that initiated a new, relentless pace.

your mind blanked at this point, your wrist completely over your mouth as you tried to endure your utter need to scream in pleasure. you even felt him lift you again, not giving you any choice but to let gravity pull your dripping puss onto his cock, as both his arms locked your legs up in a standing position.

you were out of it. you didn't know he had such strength, but it made you crave more of that side of him.

his grunts kept you anchored as he praised you infinitely amidst the wet claps of him into you, claiming you his once again.

"I'm... fuck! I'm coming—!" baekhyun stuttered, bringing you over the edge for the second as he bit your shoulder roughly, effectively bruising your skin while you saw black spots, panting while he slowed his pace.

you could feel his warmth spilling back into his length, but you barely registered what happened and the way he grabbed a random toilet paper roll from one of the storage's shelves to clean both of you.

breathing deeply, baekhyun turned to you again, raising your chin, and consequently your glassy eyes, to face him. "you're perfect."

automatically, a weak grin appeared on your face as you mouthed your affection to him, letting him straighten your summer dress that, luckily, had sleeves and could cover the lovebite on your shoulder.

you smiled solemly, knowing it was probably the end of your physical, if not in general, interactions for the day. your hands caressed both of his cheeks in thought.

you'd do anything for him.

you'd wait as long as you needed to have him in your arms again.

your thoughts only dispersed at the sound of baekhyun's weak chuckle. "what's on your mind, hm?"

maybe the fact that you tried your hardest not to tear up in front of him, especially after sex. it was kind of a big deal to you, and he knew that, so accordingly, he hugged you closer, pushing your head onto his chest.

"I just miss you like crazy," you hum. silently tearing up as he caressed your back.

he didn't even have his usual cologne scent, just his natural musk, and somehow that affected you even more.

maybe this little encounter worsened the ache you felt from missing him.

"I miss you too, my angel," baekhyun kissed the top of your head, and you had an idea that he was probably feeling the same.

he always tried to be the strongest one on your relationship, as if to 'shield you'. you usually felt like you didn't need it, but today, you didn't mind the warmth in his arms.

there was only this.

"you ready? I'm probably needed out there again," he smiled sadly, squeezing your hand gently.

you didn't want to linger too much because you knew that he needed you to be strong for him, too. so you nodded, quietly following him into the hallway as your tears traveled. accepting ones, this time.

it was easier to help explain to the cadet why baekhyun vanished with his girlfriend when the younger guy saw you crying.

"I just... really needed a quiet spot. I'm so sorry I dragged baekhyun into it. please don't tell the general." you whispered, making baekhyun open his mouth to speak, but the young cadet had already softened his gaze in understanding, silencing your boyfriend.

"I know just how it feels like, don't worry. my girlfriend was very shaken too." he nodded, facing baekhyun with a salute, which made him smile weirdly in a chuckle. at least he wasn't in trouble.

he took you towards the entrance gate, still patting your lower back as you faced each other again.

"we'll have other times like this. more than you know, okay? I'll make sure." baekhyun spoke, cupping your cheeks before pecking your forehead.

"I know." your voice breathless as you sniffled, grinning with your eyes closed.

suddenly, an older, stern looking guy that was probably his general, appeared. he had a pronounced jaw, his uniform with different details.

"sargeant byun, there you are. your break is over by five minutes, come at once and I'll spare you a punishment. now." his voice deep with authority reflected his stance and sharp gaze.

"yes, sir." baekhyun straightened up before you could say anything else.

the general nodded to you in a silent request for you to leave as he turned to walk back into the base.

baekhyun smiled sadly one last time, mouthing 'I love you'.

in a cold night, baekhyun reorganized everything. the clock marked 4 am, yet he felt anything but tired. as he had a clear view of his bed on the barrack, the only thing left to pack was the picture frame he had of you two on your first day as an official couple, on the amusement park, where you cried because of his corny speech on the ferris wheel cabin.

he didn't even practice it, so he stuttered at least five times while looking at you welled up eyes, and even then, he was perfect in your eyes.

he got to your apartment in silence, it must have been 6 am when he signed all the papers of his discharge. you looked so cute, sleeping on the couch waiting for him. baekhyun made you promise to rest and not try and wake up to pick him up, yet he knew you had probably tried to wait up.

his hand gently caressed your cheek, prompting you to hum softly while asleep, then slowly picked you up making as little sound as possible, but since you were a heavy sleeper, it didn't even stir you. it just made your arms cling to him and your lips mutter his name, which made him grin in a tired fondness, like his body finally recognized it returned to the place of his peace.

baekhyun lovingly placed you on onto your bed, removing his boots, jacket and cap, pushing his now grown hair back before crawling next to you, finally stirring you, who woke up in wide, puffy eyes.

"baekhyun...?" you murmured with your sleepy, husky voice that he loved.

he smiled, pushing a strand off of your face before pecking your lips.

"I'm home."

savor

SPORTS CAR

#baekhyun #baekhyun one shot #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun angst #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun imagine #exo #exo smut #exo imagines #exo fanfic #exo scenarios #writings #divider by priestboy #divider by cafekitsune #my third one shot woo!!

144 notes · View notes

frostfires-blog · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, Bleach fan! Just saw your IchiRuki post and I love it! You can't imagine how excited I am to found IchiRuki shipper in 2024!

So, what do you think are Ichigo and Rukia's greatest personality strengths and weaknesses? Why? What do you love about their dynamic? What are your favorite (canon) IchiRuki moments? What are your favorite headcanons of them?

Do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dyanamic remind you of IchiRuki?

Thanks if you want to answer

Hi, sorry for the wait! I'm just as excited to see another IchiRuki shipper! I swear ever since TYBW came out, we've been heavily persecuted... So it's nice to be asked about IchiRuki in a positive context rather than a negative one. Just an obligatory disclaimer before I start: Although I have been spoilt for the series ending, I have not officially read the manga. I know that rival shippers are going to use this against me... But I needed to clarify that in case I slightly misremember something. However, I doubt I will since I won't really be speaking about anything beyond where the anime left off.

[My answers are under the cut because I rambled too much again sorry ❀]

-> Ichigo & Rukia's greatest strengths: ⦁ Their strong natural chemistry: They just have a genuine and instantaneous emotional connection that elicits a sense of familiarity and warmth. ⦁ Conversely, they fit into both the "birds of a feather" and "opposites attract" tropes. This implies that, despite their differences, they share a few commonalities—which is what accounts for their strong connection. ⦁ They have both positively impacted one another, consistently uplifting and motivating one another and bringing each other back from their lowest points. Most notably, Rukia is a source of strength, motivation, and light for Ichigo. In the same way that Ichigo is a driving force in Rukia's life, serving as a source of courage and resolve. ⦁ As a result of their similar experiences and struggles—especially with self-doubt and loss—they possess a unique understanding of one another that no one else possesses. Consequently, they are able to instinctively support one another in overcoming these challenges and progress towards bettering themselves.

-> Ichigo & Rukia's greatest weaknesses: ⦁ The significant disparity in their lives, circumstances, and careers could stand in the way of their relationship—though with some concessions, this is not immutable. ⦁ They elicit each other's stubbornness and strong willedness, which often results in bickering. While I find this endearing, I know this is a source of contention for many fans. ⦁ Towards the end of the series—in particular during the TYBW arc—they don't get as much screentime together.

-> What I love about their dynamic: ⦁ Simply speaking, they are a perfect amalgamation of my favourite tropes and symbolism. ⦁ Their perfectly counterbalanced designs and symbolism seamlessly integrate into their respective roles in the series, not only enhancing their dynamic but also conveying the notion of being fated or destined soulmates. ⦁ Their mutually important roles in the series, along with their profound trust and respect for one another, foster a sense of equality and balance seldomly seen in shounen F/M pairings. ⦁ Throughout the series, their most significant moments are consistently paralleled and inverted. This not only enables both of them to mutually support and uplift one another but also further reinforces their dynamic as a cornerstone of the series.

-> My favourite canon IchiRuki moments: There are honestly so many, as I love all of the interactions, but if I had to limit myself to a top four, then it would be as follows:

4) When Rukia transfers her powers to Ichigo for the first time (Episode 1) - This has to be one of the most iconic IchiRuki scenes considering this is the moment where it all began.

3) Ichigo saves Rukia from her execution - Another obvious choice. What makes this moment appealing to me is that Ichigo enables Rukia to finally be upfront about her feelings and reinvigorates her desire to exist. This allows this scene to transcend the typical hero saves the girl premise.

2) Rukia and Ichigo reuniting during the Fullbring arc - This scene brought me to tears with its masterful parallels of both of the previous entries on my list here by having Rukia show up to support and guide Ichigo once more. I adore the manner in which Rukia can uplift him and encourage him with only a few words and her presence.

1) Ichigo thanking and saying farewell to Rukia after losing his powers - Some might find it ironic that this scene tops my list, but my reasoning goes beyond my fondness for angst. In my opinion, this scene—as well as its aftermath—cements how deeply Ichigo and Rukia care for one another. In the anime, the compelling voice acting as well as the soft colours and fluid animation deepen my love for this scene. Conversely, the manga's fluid panelling and delicate expressions are remiscent of that in shoujo manga.

P.S. I would've highlighted some scenes from the 3rd Bleach Movie: Fade To Black—but since its still debated whether the movies are canonical, I opted not to.

-> My favourite IchiRuki headcanons:

I'm more of a trope, motif, and symbolism analysis person—so I've never really given any thought to headcanons... To be honest, I don't think I fully know what counts as a headcanon. I love seeing people use Sun×Moon, Day×Night, Ying×Yang, and Fire×Ice symbolism for IchiRuki. Also, this is much less common, but I also like seeing fan artists use Forget-Me-Not flowers for IchiRuki—that's totally their flower. I don't know if those count as headcanons...So I'd love for you guys to share your favourite headcanons in the comments...

-> Ships that remind me about IchiRuki:

To be honest, this is a tricky question to answer... Everyone is drawn to ships for different reasons... Every ship is different, and every series is different... So it goes without saying that just because you ship a pairing in one series doesn't mean you'll ship a similar ship in another show. People always get offended when someone always gets offended when comparisons are drawn between ships—especially those from different series. Having said that, I tried my best; so, please don't criticise me too harshly I'd love to hear about any other ships that remind you guys of IchiRuki since I'm sure I might have missed a couple of good options...

1) ChiKawa / Chika Kudo × Satowa Hozuki (Kono Oto Tomare!) — > Similar personalities/dynamics: ⦁ Just like Ichigo, Chika is a devoted and caring friend who can be a bit straightforward, impulsive, and short-tempered at times. ⦁ Just like Rukia, Satowa is graceful, determined, and stubborn. Satowa, like Rukia, has difficulty opening up to others and is adept at putting on a damsel in distress act to get her way in troublesome situations. ⦁ Both pairs initially get off on the wrong foot and often bicker because of their stubbornness, but ultimately come to respect, trust and care for one another. > Common tropes: ⦁ Both pairs share the "belligerent tension", "birds of a feather", "can't live with them, can't live without them", "everyone can see it", and "slow burn" tropes. > Similar backgrounds: ⦁ Before the start of the series, Chika often got into fights and had a "deliquent" image, which is somewhat reminiscent of Ichigo's backstory. ⦁ Satowa, like Rukia, is apart of a presigious family and faced immense pressure, which resulted in her becoming isolated and aloof. > Similar in appearance: ⦁ Both pairs have a guy with bright, light-coloured hair and brown eyes. Both pairs have a girl with straight, black hair with bangs.

2) Takumi Usui × Misaki Ayuzawa (Kaichou wa Maid-sama!) — > Similar personalities/dynamics: ⦁ Usui, like Ichigo, is confident, reliable, talented, and protective. ⦁ Misaki, like Rukia, is intelligent, diligent, and determined. Both characters struggle with being honest with themselves (and others) about their feelings and wants. ⦁ Usui enjoys teasing Misaki, similarly to how Rukia oftentimes teases Ichigo. ⦁ Both pairs initially get off on the wrong foot and often bicker because of their stubbornness, but ultimately come to respect, trust, and care for one another. > Similar backgrounds: ⦁ Usui, like Rukia, is partially a member of a prestigious family and is now isolated and somewhat aloof as a result of his upbringing. ⦁ Misaki, like Ichigo, cares greatly for her family and younger sibling and works hard to protect her. > Common tropes: ⦁ Both pairs share the "belligerent tension", "birds of a feather", "can't live with them, can't live without them", "declaration of protection", "everyone can see it", "like an old married couple" and "slow burn" tropes. > Similar in appearance: ⦁ Both pairs have a guy with light and bright-coloured spikey hair. Both pairs have a girl with straight, black, shoulder-length hair with bangs.

3) ItaFushi / Yuji Itadori × Megumi Fushiguro (Jujutsu Kaisen) — > Similar personalities/dynamics: ⦁ Both pairs have matching MBTI results. With Ichigo and Yuji falling under ISFP while Rukia and Megumi fall under ISTJ. ⦁ Yuji, like Ichigo, values protecting others—especially his friends—and is equally hard-working, determined, passionate, and impulsive. ⦁ Megumi, like Rukia, is intelligent, serious, blunt, diligent, and talented. He is equally as aloof, stubborn and short-tempered. ⦁ Both pairs have complementary personalities and fight well alongside their respective partner. Both pairs are very intuitive of their partner's needs and get along well—despite occasional teasing and bickering. > Similar Backgrounds: ⦁ Like Rukia, Megumi has a complex relationship with his older, adoptive sibling. Megumi and Rukia are both apart of prestigious clans that are involved with eliminating supernatural creatures. ⦁ Like Ichigo, Yuji has a mysterious family background with some of his family members being somewhat connected to one of the series' main villians. Both characters possess latent, inherent abilities as a result of their heritage. Both characters battle with literal "inner-demons". > Similar circumstances/roles in the series: ⦁ Both pairs consist of the protagonist and deuteragonist of their respective series. ⦁ Both Ichigo and Yuji were living relatively ordinary lives until they ran into their respective deuteragonist and had to awaken supernatural abilities to save themselves and the latter from a supernatural creature. ⦁ Both Rukia and Megumi have disobeyed orders/rules in order to protect their respective protagonist. ⦁ Both Ichigo and Yuji risked being executed as a result of the powers they awakened but were saved by their respective deuteragonist. ⦁ Conversely, at different points in their respective series, both Rukia and Megumi had lost their will to live and were then saved by their respective protagonist. > Common tropes: ⦁ Both pairs share the "battle couple", "can't live with them, can't live without them", "declaration of protection", "everyone can see it", "fan-preferred couple", "friends to lovers", "I owe you my life", "rescue romance", "star-crossed lovers", "slow burn", "sun × moon" and "you are better than you think you are" tropes.

4) GinTsu / Gintoki Sakata × Tsukuyo (Gintama) — > Similar personalities/dynamics: ⦁ Gintoki, like Ichigo, is very strong-willed, stubborn, short-tempered and impulsive. Conversely, behind their cool and detached image, both characters are very charismatic, compassionate, reliable and empathetic. ⦁ In terms of MBTI results, Rukia and Tsukuyo both fall under ISTJ. Like Rukia, Tsukuyo initially believed in placing duty above her personal feelings and struggled with emotional transparency and self-worth. Both characters are very responsible, diligent, determined and blunt. ⦁ Both pairs have complementary personalities and fight well alongside their respective partner. Both pairs are very intuitive of their partner's needs and get along well. ⦁ Although both pairs often bicker and tease each other, this does not detract from their respect, trust, and care for one another. > Similar backgrounds: ⦁ Like Ichigo and Rukia, who comprehend and assist one another because of their similar past experiences, Gintoki and Tsukuyo have comparable understanding and support. This theme is further developed in Gintama's "Red Spider Arc" where Gintoki and Tsukuyo's backstories are even more explicitly contrasted. > Similar circumstances and roles in series: ⦁ Both Tsukuyo and Rukia have defied orders to protect their respective protagonist. ⦁ Both Tsukuyo and Rukia struggle with emotional transparency and self-worth. Both characters have learnt to embrace their feelings and be less constrained thanks to their respective protagonist. > Corresponding symbolism & motifs: ⦁ Both pairs have canonically been associated with celestial motifs with Rukia and Tsukuyo being associated with the moon while Ichigo and Gintoki are associated with the Sun. ⦁ Rukia and Gintoki have been respectively described as the "light" in Ichigo and Tsukuyo's lives. ⦁ Rukia has been associated with Winter and Night while Ichigo has been associated with Summer and Day. Conversely, Tsukuyo has been associated with night and autumn while Gintoki has been associated with day and spring. > Common tropes: ⦁ Both pairs share the "a shared suffering", "back-to-back badasses", "battle couple", "belligerent tension", "birds of a feather", "can't live with them, can't live without them", "declaration of protection", "everyone can see it", "flirting under fire", "friends to lovers", "I owe you my life", "mutual respect", "slow burn", "sun × moon" and "you are better than you think you are" tropes.

If you made it till the end, I'm so grateful. Thanks for reading my ramblings. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below. Also, remember not to spread misinformation and to respect others' right to formulate their own opinions.

46 notes · View notes

hischiershoe · 2 years ago

Text

─── DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS

─── QUINN HUGHES X FEM!READER

[ word count ] 7.6k (i got very carried away im sorry) [ summary ] after months of feeling like you've lost quinn, he ends up losing you. will the two of you find your back to each other? [ content warnings ] angst, self-destructive tendancies, drinking, cursing, MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut, shower sex, fingering, oral (fem recieving), unprotected sex (use protection guys), teeny bit of a praise kink, brief breath play, please let me know if you see any mistakes. i finished this at 2 am and my vision was a little blurry at that point

Two years ago, you had met Quinn Hughes through a mutual friend, and he’s been a part of your life ever since. In the beginning, the two of you took things slow, wanting to truly get to know each other before getting into a relationship. Quinn wanted to make sure that his intense schedule that involved him being gone for long periods of time wasn’t going to overwhelm you, or make you feel alone. You wanted to make sure that, after all you had gone through, Quinn was going to remain a man of his word and make your relationship work despite the many odds that came with his job. And he did, at first.

For the first year and a half that you were with Quinn, he was texting, calling, facetiming as often as he could when he was gone. If he wasn’t doing something that related to his commitment to the hockey team, he was talking to you in some way. He would send you pictures of the places he would visit with short captions of how he wished you were there with him, and you would always smile at them and tell him that you would be, one day. Though, a few months ago, those texts started to become less frequent, and when you did get them, they sounded forced, almost like they had been rehearsed.

For a while, you tried to reason with yourself. Telling yourself that he was just getting busier, and the stress was getting to him. You tried to understand just how demanding and exhausting his job must be, so you brushed off his deteriorating communication. Instead, you tried to hold onto the hope that when he was finally back home, things were going to go back to normal. Quinn was going to walk back through the door to your shared apartment and hold you until you fell asleep. Then, that stopped happening too.

The first time you realized that Quinn was truly pulling away from you was when he didn’t come straight home after a seven day roadie. He hadn’t even told you that he was close to home yet. You only found out because Natalie had posted a snapchat story of JT holding Owen, and you were immediately dialing your boyfriend's phone number. Your heart sank when it only rang three times before cutting to his bland voicemail message.

You remember spending the rest of that night crying into your pillow, thoughts of what you could have done to make him distance himself from you clouding your brain. You knew that hockey players had an abysmal reputation, but you have never lumped Quinn into that group of men. You’ve always thought the world of him, considering yourself lucky to have the luxury of being loved by him. This had you questioning everything you thought you knew about him. When he came home later that night, he gave you a half-assed apology and explanation followed by a string of kisses that had you melting back into him.

Though even that started to dwindle, and eventually it stopped all together. When Quinn was home in Vancouver, he rarely made the effort to spend time with you, and when he did, it was almost like he wasn’t there. His face would always be buried in his phone, or he’d be playing video games with his friends and you’d simply be sitting next to him on the couch. Quinn had stopped trying to plan dates, and honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone on one with him. You could barely remember the last time the two of you had shared a kiss that was more than the obligatory chaste peck on the lips before bed.

You tried to reassure yourself and ignore the aching in your chest, but the way he put as much distance as he possibly could between the two of you, the less you were able to do that. Eventually, you’d decided that enough was enough, and if it felt like you weren’t in a relationship, then you weren’t going to be in one. No matter how badly it hurt.

The thought of breaking up with Quinn made you feel like someone was holding your head under water. The panic settling into your chest as you realized that you couldn’t breathe; your lungs burning the longer you went without any air. No matter how hard you tried to break the surface and gasp for air, your head was only shoved deeper and deeper into the water until you realized that the only escape was leaving him. Leaving the man you were still in love with was the only way for you to be able to breathe again.

When he finally came home that night, he didn’t even notice you sitting at the table, his head shoved in his phone as he walked through the door. “Quinn,” Your quiet voice bounced off the walls of your home. His head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise that you were still awake at this hour, but you continued, “We need to talk.”

“Okay,” He drew out, brows knitting together in confusion as he slipped his phone into his pocket, “What’s this about?”

His eyes darted throughout the apartment, and you watched as his shoulders fell when he realized that stuff was missing from all over. Your stuff. With Quinn avoiding your home like it was, or rather you were, the plague, it gave you enough time to gather everything you’d brought over with you, and temporarily move it into a friend's apartment until you could find your own. Despite the multiple breaks you had to take because you kept breaking down, you managed to do it all in one day.

“I think you know what it’s about,” You chewed at your bottom lip, blinking rapidly to keep yourself from crying.

“Baby, I-,” He tried as he reached over the table to grab your hand, but you quickly cut him off. The chair scraped against the floor as you abruptly stood, shoving his outstretched hand away from you.

“Don’t call me that,” You spat, vision blurring from the tears, “You can’t call me that anymore.”

“What are you trying to say,” He asked, his voice breaking, and that made you angry.

How dare he act like he was hurt when all he’s been doing is hurting you? He put you in this position. He pushed you away, made you feel like he didn’t want you anymore. He did this, and he doesn’t get to act like he’s the one that’s hurting.

“I’m saying that we’re done, Quinn. I’m breaking up with you,” You asserted through the salty streams falling down your cheeks. Though the words tasted bitter as they came out, you felt a slight, very very slight, sense of relief wash over you as you said the words out loud.

Your words hung over his head as you fell into an uncomfortable silence, eyes staying trained on him as you waited for a response. He stood at the table with his palms pressed against the wood, head down as he let out a shaky breath followed by a weak question.

“What do you mean ‘Why’,” You scoffed, shooting daggers into the top of his head, “Quinn, you’ve barely said a full sentence to me in the last week. You don’t talk to me when you’re gone anymore. Hell, half the time I don’t even know you guys are back unless someone posts about it. I just- It just feels like you don’t want this anymore, and that’s okay, but what you’ve been doing isn’t.”

“No,” He breathed out, his voice small and broken as he shook his head, “No, it’s not and I’m sorry. I don’t- Fuck, Y/N, I don’t know what to say right now. I lo-“

“Please don’t,” You interrupted, tearing your gaze away from him as you choked on your own cries, “Please stop, Quinn. I can’t do it anymore. I love you so much, but it’s gotten to a point that the person I fell in love with is gone even though he’s right in front of me.”

A part of you did want him to beg you to stay, to beg you to give him another chance because he will change. He will change as long as it means he got to have you, and he couldn’t live without you. But the more logical part of you was holding the spear, and it was telling you that you were doing the best thing for you. That leaving Quinn, while it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, it was the right decision for you.

“I’ve already got all of my stuff moved out,” Your voice cut through the thick silence, “You’re not home much so it made it pretty easy.”

You couldn’t help but throw the jab in there, but it was only to cover the thinly veiled agony that was truly going on in your heart and bleeding into the rest of your body. You didn’t want Quinn to know that saying goodbye to him was like death by a thousand cuts, and so you masked the pain the only way you knew how. With anger.

“I wish you and your team the best in the rest of the season, I really do. But I think it would be better for both of us if we don’t talk after this.”

Not waiting for his response, you made a slight show to toss the key to what was now his apartment onto the table in front of him, the gentle ding of the metal hitting the wood echoing through the empty room, before walking out of the door. You’d barely made it into the elevator by the time your feelings washed over you an aggressive wave that came seemingly out of nowhere and everywhere all at once. You were thankful that the ride down to the bottom was quick and no one else joined you, and that the main lobby was only occupied by the security guard who’s more than likely seen his fair share of crying women.

That night, you went to your friend's apartment and broke down into a mess of screams, tears, and pain. She held you as you cried, held your hair as you threw up, held your hand through the shower curtain because you didn’t want to be alone. She stood by you in your most desperate time of need, and she made it her own personal goal to maim the hockey player should she ever see him again.

Quinn didn’t text or call you, but you knew that he wasn’t doing the greatest for the first few weeks after your breakup. Petey and Brock had both called to check on you once they had figured out what had their teammate in the state he was in. They asked how you were doing, and not-so-subtly mentioned that Quinn wasn’t any better off than you were. Though, they quickly learned to not mention him unless they wanted to listen to you call them obscene words before ending the call and ignoring them for a few days. You knew their intentions were good, but you didn’t want to hear about how “awful” Quinn was.

If he had acted like he cared about you half as much as his friends were telling you he did, maybe you would have made the effort to ask about him. If he loved you half as much as they said he did, but he didn’t. And he’s made that clear to you. Of course you know you told him that you thought it best if the two of you didn’t talk anymore, but you had secretly hoped he wouldn’t listen. That he would be calling you and texting you, begging you to come back. Telling you how in love he was with you, but it was complete and utter radio silence.

Eventually, you were able to pick yourself back up enough to find your own apartment. Leila had insisted that you staying with her was never going to be a problem, but you knew you couldn’t stay there forever. You needed to try and move on from him, even though you weren’t quite ready to let go of him yet. You needed to try and find yourself again, and you couldn’t do that sleeping in the guest bed of your best friend and her boyfriend's apartment.

Leila’s worried eyes were practically carved into your skull at this point, but you didn’t blame her. She’s had to pick you up, physically and emotionally, more times than she had anticipated when you initially turned up at her door with puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Though she should have realized how deeply hurt you were the fourth time she held you after you had woken up thinking that your breakup was a nightmare, only to realize that it was reality that haunted your dreams.

No matter how hard you tried to forget about Quinn Hughes, the city you lived in was as riddled with memories and reminders of what once was. He was on every street you walked, in every store window you passed by. He was everywhere, and it made you feel like there was a shard of glass piercing your heart, unrelenting and unmoving. You wanted nothing more than to forget about the man who had torn your heart in two, and you were willing to do anything to do that.

The bar air that clung to your body was sticky with alcohol and sweat, but you didn’t seem to mind as you moved your hips to the beat of whatever terrible remix they were playing. The unnamed man behind you had his hands planted firmly on your waist, but you didn’t pay him any mind as you let yourself dance. The alcohol swimming through your veins aiding your ability to forget about all of the hurt you had yet to heal from.

For the last three months, you often found yourself in some sort of bar or club to drink your pain away. It was cliche, but you hadn’t stumbled upon any other outlet that allowed you to forget about the constant ache in your chest. Leila had tried to guide you towards less self-destructive ways of healing, but you didn’t listen to her. This way was guaranteed to ease your heartbreak, at least for the night and that was all you needed.

“I’m Wren,” The man yelled into your ear, an off-putting smirk slapped on his less than desirable features.

Your mouth dropped open, the blood pounding in your ears covering the music entirely. It was too close. His name was too similar, and it made the one thing you were trying to forget flood itself into your head. Images of Quinn and memories of the way his voice sounded pushed their way to the forefront mind, and suddenly you couldn’t breathe.

Without another word, you pushed the man away from you and scrambled towards the exit of the bar. Your vision turned bleary and clouded, from the tears or the alcohol, you weren’t sure. Ignoring the worried calls from strangers you shoved past, you rushed out into the crisp Vancouver air.

You stumbled over into the mostly empty alleyway, clutching at your chest as your back came in contact with the brick wall. You were aware of the many lingering eyes on you, but the feeling that was consuming you made their attention appear miniscule and irrelevant. All you could think about was Quinn and how he never even fought to be with you. How he gave you up so easily.

Leila’s boyfriend had seen you run out of the bar, and immediately darted towards the bathroom so he could grab her. With the help of a few random women, he was able to get her attention much faster, and she was rushing out of the bar and leaving him to close their tab. Leila heard you before she saw you, and that alone made her chest burn for you.

“Honey,” She delicately approached you, her voice calm and collected, “What happened?”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but nothing was coming out but strangled breaths and mangled cries. Despite having seen you in this position more times than she could count, it broke Leila’s heart all the same. She maneuvered your body so that she could pull you into her lap, ignoring the fact that she was sitting on the ground in a dirty alley. She began rubbing soothing circles on your back and instructed you to try and follow her breathing pattern.

Once you were able to catch your breath, you let out an almost incoherent, “Why didn’t he come back?”

Leila was able to calm you down enough to get you back to your apartment nearly an hour later. She kept insisting that you just come home with her, but you already felt guilty enough for intruding so much on her personal life. You knew she didn’t mind, but you did, so you managed to convince her that you would be okay by yourself, and that you would call her if you needed her. Though, she wasn’t the person you ended up calling.

“You have reached the voicemail box of Quinn Hughes. Please leave a message after the tone.”

“I hate you, Quinn,” You started, your voice already raspy from the moments prior, “I hate you so much for making me believe that you ever loved me back the way that I loved you. I thought we were forever, you know. That’s what you told me. That we would get married and have our own family, but we saw how that turned out. It was never going to be me, was it?

“I just wished you would have had the balls to tell me that you fell out of love with me, if you ever did in the first place, or found someone else or whatever the fuck happened. It would have made it a hell of a lot easier knowing that I, or you, did something to make you not stop loving me. It’s just- The worst fucking part about all of this is, is that I’m still so in love with you that it physically hurts me to be without you, but that doesn’t matter does it?

“Fuck. I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I guess I'm just trying to give myself closure so that I can really move on from you. I don’t know that I’ll ever stop loving you, but I’m going to try.”

Hanging up the phone, you threw it onto your couch and let out a gut wrenching sob that ripped through the stillness of your apartment. You fell to your knees and let everything you had been bottling up for the last three months bleed out of you. The world spun around you, your lungs burning as you gasped for air. Your fingers grasped at anything they could possibly wrap themselves around in an attempt to keep yourself steady.

You felt as if you were back to square one, and you hated that all it took was some man having a name that too closely resembled his. It was stupid, you thought, blatantly pathetic how easily you were thrown back into the fire you had done your best to crawl out of. You had almost healed all of the cuts Quinn’s treatment of you had left in your heart, but now they were gaping open once again.

Minutes passed by, or maybe hours you weren’t sure, and you had fallen into a limp ball on the floor of your living room. You had no energy to move from the spot as silent tears escaped their previous confinement. You stared lifelessly at the ceiling above you, mind too tired to fight off the dangerous thoughts floating about inside your head. It was only when sleep finally graced you that you were able to escape the pain of what-ifs.

The following morning, you were rudely awoken by someone aggressively and relentlessly knocking on your door. The sound ricocheted across the nearly empty walls of your apartment, and worsened the already excruciating pounding in your head. Pushing your tired body off the floor, you let out a quiet groan as nausea rippled from your core.

You passed by a mirror that Leila insisted you hang, and you outwardly cringed at your appearance. Your face swollen from last night's breakdown, and your makeup was smudged all across your face. Needless to say, your unwarranted guest was not going to get a presentable version of you.

Not bothering to check the peephole, you pulled the door open and time froze all around you. Quinn stood there with his hands in his pockets, head covered by the hood of his blue Canucks hoodie. His face was decorated with overgrown facial hair and deep set bags had found places underneath his eyes. Truly, he looked awful, but the sight of him in front of you made the already growing ball of nausea burst.

Quinn watched as your eyes simultaneously widened and hardened with an undetectable emotion, but he’s sure he could guess what it was. When he had woken up that morning, the last thing he’d expected to see was a missed call from you, let alone a voicemail. He’d listened to it a dozen times before calling Petey, asking him what he should do.

After a lecture that closely resembled the one he had already gotten from his teammate months prior that was followed by words of encouragement, he set off to your apartment. He only knew your address because Brock had accidentally let it slip when they passed by it one night. Truthfully, Quinn was expecting you to not answer the door or to slam it shut in his face when you saw him. That he was prepared for, but what he did not prepare himself for was you darting to the bathroom.

He stood in the hallway, conflicting emotions battling with each other as the sound of you retching reached his ears. He wanted to follow after you and comfort you like he’d done many times before, but he also didn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable than you undoubtedly were already. He opted to step inside and wait for you in the living room, preparing himself for whatever you were going to throw at him.

You were heaving into the toilet, panic running through every nerve in your body as you tried to focus on breathing rather than throwing up. The last person you had expected to show up at your door was here now, and you left him standing in the hallway. A million thoughts ran through your mind as you flushed the toilet, pushing yourself up off the floor for the second time in the last fifteen minutes.

Why was Quinn here? How was he here? You never gave him your address. Though a brief reminder that Brock knew where you lived was enough to answer that question for you, but nothing you could come up with answered why. You remember leaving him a voicemail in your drunken meltdown, but you couldn’t wrap your head around just what had gotten him to seek you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for far too long, and you wondered if Quinn was still here. You’d heard the door shut, but you couldn’t figure out if the footsteps that followed were inside your apartment or in the hallway. After quickly brushing your teeth and convincing yourself that he had left, you stepped back into the living room and were proven wrong. He had settled into the spot on the couch that he chose every time if he could; closest to the kitchen. His leg was anxiously bouncing up and down, and he was biting at his fingernails.

“What are you doing here,” You called out, nails digging into the palm of your hand as a way to keep yourself grounded.

The sound of your voice had Quinn’s head turning on a swivel before he was standing and taking a few steps towards you, but he stopped when you stepped backwards. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was already treading through very dangerous waters by showing up at your apartment unannounced, and he didn’t want to do anything to further worsen that.

He instantly registered the tortured look in your eyes because it was the same one he’s been sporting since you left. Quinn knows he’s to blame for the downfall of your relationship. He should have fought harder. He should have fought, period, but he had his own reason for letting you go.

“You called me last night,” He started.

“I was drunk,” You firmly stated, heart beating loudly in your chest, “It didn’t mean anything.” You were lying, and he knew that, too. Quinn could always tell when you were lying.

“It meant something to me,” He rushed out, “Hearing your voice- Hearing you say that you thought I never loved you ripped me to pieces. I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please listen to my explanation? I know it won’t repair the damage I’ve done, but please. I was too scared before, but I’m not now.”

He rasped your name out like it was something sacred, like it held the entire world within its syllables. His eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears as they bore into your own. He could tell that your heart and brain were at war with each other by the way you kept taking sharp breaths, and your eyes kept flitting away from him.

“I don’t know, Quinn. I’m trying to move on, and hearing you out will only undo all of the work I’ve put into doing that,” You tried, turning away from him but still staying in the living room.

“I know, baby,” The nickname tumbled out before he could stop it, sending a jab to your chest, “I know, but please. I will leave you alone after, if that’s what you really want. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You weighed your options in your head before letting out a hesitant, “Okay. I’ll listen, but if I want you to leave after, you’ll go?”

Your heart had won this battle, but you’re relying on your brain to save it later if need be. The sound of his approaching footsteps made the breath catch in your throat, but the feeling of his hand sliding into your own sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. Your head snapped to his own, your eyes full of anxiety and familiarity.

He gently pulled you over to the couch, dropping your hand so that you could sit as far away from as you wanted. The air was crawling with nerves from both parties, but the lack of anger radiating off of you brought him some sort of comfort as he gathered his thoughts. Though, in your defense, you could never be angry at Quinn, no matter how badly he hurt you.

“I know that no apology can fix the hurt I’ve caused you, but I am sorry. I am so sorry for pulling away from you instead of talking to you. I never fell out of love with you, ever. Not then, and not now. Do you want to know the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It isn't hockey. It isn’t money. It’s you, and that terrified me. I was so scared that I was going to screw everything up.”

You opened your mouth to interrupt him, but he cast you a stern glare and shook his head before continuing, “I never let that bother me until I overheard you talking to Leila about marriage and children, and I got scared. I started questioning if I was good enough for you. If I was even good for you. I’m gone so much with the team, and I’ve already missed so many of your accomplishments because I was on the road.

“I started thinking about us having kids. How many appointments would I miss? What if I missed the birth? What if I missed the baby’s first steps? I couldn’t imagine putting you through all of that by yourself, so I started pulling away. Was it a good idea? Absolutely not, but it made sense to me. I thought I was going to save you from heartbreak in the future, but all I did was cause it now instead.

“I didn’t call after you left because I thought I did the right thing. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but then I heard your voice this morning and I knew I had to fix it, if you’d let me. I couldn’t let you think that I never loved you, because I do. I love you so much, and I will do anything to prove that to you, should you give me the chance.”

You sat there in silence, digesting the words that had just been said to you as you let out quiet sobs. For nearly the last year, you had believed that Quinn didn’t love you, and now he was saying the exact opposite. He was begging for another chance, and that was what you had wanted, right? It still was, but the damage that was done wasn’t going to be easily fixable. You would have to start back at the beginning, and you’re not sure if Quinn was willing to do that.

“Baby,” He whispered, your silence lighting his skin on fire with nerves, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but I want you to know that I meant what I said. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess I created. Anything.”

The gears were turning in your head, trying to conjure any sort of coherent thought to tell him that you wanted this, but you were scared. You’d put so much faith and trust into Quinn, and he tore all of that down out of fear. What if he did that again?

“I want to,” You whispered, “I do, but what if you do it again? I can’t go through it all over, Quinn. I felt like I was going to die without you, and I can’t go through losing you all over again if you get scared.”

You felt his weight lift off the sofa, and before you realized what was going on, he was wedging himself in between your legs in front of you. He cupped both of your cheeks in his hands so you were looking at him, and you swear you blacked out for a second. Just because Quinn had hurt you, doesn’t mean the effect he had on you went away.

“You won’t lose me ever again, okay? My heart belongs to you. My heart beats for you. I promise to love you for the rest of my life, even if you don’t love me for the rest of yours.”

His hands were still on your cheeks as you gulped down the lump in your throat, his pleading eyes darting all across your face. Lucky for you, your heart and your brain had linked together as you let out an almost silent, “Kiss me, please.”

And he did. Quinn’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands dropping down so he could pull you into his chest. The kiss was full of desperation and months of lost time as the two of you clung to each other. He was holding your hips so tightly that you’re fairly certain they were going to bruise, but you didn’t mind. You were pulling him into you just as desperately, afraid that he was somehow going to disappear from right in front of you.

He briefly pulled away so that he could sit on the couch, pulling you into his lap not long after. He quickly reattached his lips to yours, and he kissed you with so much fervor that it had your head spinning. You could feel some of your sadness melting away, being replaced by passion and desire for the man underneath you. Almost as if a switch had flipped within you. You shifted your hips on his lap, and a throaty moan escaped his swollen lips as he slightly threw his head back.

“Be careful with that,” He let out a breathy laugh, “You know what that does to me.”

There was a teasing glint in your eye as you spoke, “I know.”

“Fuck me,” He groaned, subtly moving your hips against him.

“If you insist,” You drew out, leaning down to ghost your lips over his neck.

He threw his head back against the couch and screwed his eyes shut as your warm breath fanned across his neck. Your eyes flicked up to his face, and you couldn’t help but let a mischievous smirk form before dragging your tongue across the expanse of his neck. He let out a string of profanities as you latched your mouth onto the spot you knew would send him spiraling, but you quickly pulled away and hopped off of him.

“I need to take a shower,” You announced, a teasing tone to your voice, “I’m still gross from the bar.”

Quinn’s eyes snapped open, watching as you began to walk away. Only when he heard you ask if you were going to join did he jump off the couch and scramble after you. He shed his clothes as he followed you to the bathroom, leaving a trail of fabric in his wake. By the time he had reached your bathroom, you’d already turned the shower on and rid yourself of your own clothes.

“I do not deserve you,” He mumbled as his eyes raked over your naked body.

He’d already memorized every dip and curve of you, but he always treated it as if he was seeing all of you for the first time. Your body captivated him in all of the best ways, and it left Quinn breathless every time you graced him with it. He considered it a privilege to be able to bear witness to the Goddess of a woman in front of him, and he worshiped it like it was.

Despite all that has happened between the two of you, you still felt comfortable enough to share this part of you with Quinn. Unlike the guys who had seen you naked before, none of them treated it the way he did. He never made you feel insecure, and he always made every other part of you feel just as loved as your body. He admired your character, and even your flaws, all the same.

“You gonna stand there or are you going to join me,” You teased as you stepped into the shower.

The water enveloped you like a welcomed hug, and you let out a sigh of relief as the stickiness from last night was washed away. You were facing towards the shower, eyes closed and head tilted back. You heard the curtain rings slide against the rod before you felt Quinn’s chest pressed against your back. You wiggled against his hardened length, and he took your teasing as a green light.

His fingers trailed up along your hip, across your waist before dancing over your breast. He made a point to slightly lift his touch so he just barely grazed your nipple, and you let out a whine when he did. His hand briefly paused when he reached your collarbone as if he was going to change his mind, but he carefully wrapped his fingers around your neck and leaned down to brush his lips against your ear.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” He whispered before dipping his head down and attaching his lips to your neck.

While one hand tilted your neck to give him better access, his free hand trailed down your stomach and towards your center. The knot in your stomach grew the closer he got, but he was taking his time with you. Relishing in the moment he never thought he would have again.

“Quinn,” You whimpered, “Please.”

“Please what, baby? I need you to use your words for me,” He briefly broke his contact with your neck.

“I need you to touch me, please,” You were begging him, needing him to give you the release that no other man has before.

“Good girl.”

He slid one finger into you, an almost pornagraphic moan echoing off the tiles of your bathroom. You threw your head back against his shoulder, gripping at the slick shower wall for any sort of support before your knees buckled from under you. He carefully moved his digit inside of you, stretching your walls so he could add another.

“Jesus, baby. You’re so tight,” He groaned into your ear.

“‘S because no one’s touched me- Oh fuck,” You cried out as he inserted another finger, “No one’s touched me since the last time you did.”

Quinn knew he shouldn’t be as turned on by that as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that you didn’t let another man have you the way that he did only made him harder, and he didn’t think that was possible.

You were writhing against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, your moans filling his ears like they were his favorite song. He moved his thumb to press against your clit, and it was then that Quinn had to use his own strength to keep you standing. He worked his fingers against you, and he’s gotten you to the finish line enough times to know that you were already just about there, so he didn’t stop.

“Oh my god,” You cried out as his thumb rubbed circles and his fingers curled inside of you, “I’m almost the-Fuck.”

“I know, pretty girl. I know,” He murmured, keeping his pace steady.

Your legs are shaking and your vision becomes spotty as the knot inside you comes undone. He captures your lips with his own as you come all over his fingers, kissing you with the same amount of passion he’d had before everything happened. He was still supporting you with the hand that was previously on your neck, but you slowly regained the strength to support yourself as you came down from your high.

“You okay,” He asked, turning you around so that the water was no longer hitting your front.

“More than okay,” You gave him a sloppy smile, still slightly dazed from your orgasm.

“Good, because that was only the beginning,” He smirked, switching places with you so he could back you into the corner of your shower.

You watched as he turned and shifted the shower head so that it was spraying against the two of you as much. You pulled your brows together in confusion as you questioned him, “What about you?”

“What about me,” He feigned confusion as he slowly fell to his knees.

“You know what,” You quietly spoke, eyes wide in anticipation as his hands gripped your thighs.

“I’m getting all I need, baby. Don’t worry,” He glanced up at you, eyes sparkling with pleasure.

His fingers trailed against your thighs that were wet with a mix of water and your own juices. Goosebumps rose in wake of his touch, sending a shiver throughout your entire body. You kept glancing down at him with your lip pulled between your teeth, your heart still rapidly beating from your orgasm only minutes ago.

Quinn spread your legs with his hands before placing feathered kisses on the inside of your thighs, eliciting a few breathless moans from you. He stopped when he got against your aching core, his breath hitting it as he spared you one more glance.

With a swift movement, he was lifting your leg over his shoulder and then he was diving into you like it was his last meal. His facial hair was tickling your inner thighs, but all it did was add to the sensation flowing through your body. His hands were gripping at your legs to not only keep you steady, but to give him something to hold on to.

He was devouring you in a way that made it seem like he was enjoying it more than you were, but you highly doubted that to be true. His tongue worked against as he led you to yet another orgasm, mouth sucking and swirling in all of the right places. You tugged on his hair as you felt the familiar fire burning in your stomach, your head hitting against the tile wall.

Your second orgasm ripped through your body, rendering you temporarily blind yet again. He carefully placed your leg back beneath you, placing open mouth kisses against your stomach as he stood leaving behind a mixture of his saliva and your cum against your skin. He attacked your lips with his own in a dizzying kiss, his hands cupping and squeezing at your breasts.

“I’ve missed you so much,” He mumbled against your lips as he placed his forehead on yours.

“I missed you too. So much, Quinn,” Your eyes became misty with tears, but you tried to push them back.

“I’m not trying to ruin the moment or anything, but thank you for giving me a second chance. I definitely don’t deserve one, but I will keep my promise and do whatever it takes to win you back.”

You pressed a gentle, chaste kiss to his lips before saying, “Well, you can start by properly fucking me.”

The softness in Quinn’s eyes darkened to something full of desire and lust, but he still managed to keep the look of pure admiration and love. His hands found purchase on your hips, pulling you into his chest and meeting your lips with a hungry kiss. You could feel him pressed against your thigh, and it made the already wet pool between your legs worsen.

“Need you to hold on to me baby. Wanna look at you,” He instructed as he pulled away, gesturing for you to wrap your arms around his neck, “Good girl.”

Quinn rubbed himself between your folds, teasing your entrance and watching your face twist in desire and want. Slowly, he pushed himself inside of you and let out a mangled moan as your walls clenched around him. He paused and let you readjust to his size, doing his best to remain still and not roughly jerk his hips back.

“Move,” You whimpered, bucking your hips forward for any sort of friction, “Please move.”

With your pleading, Quinn was pulling himself nearly all the way out and slamming back in at a pace he knew you both liked. His thrusts were hard and deep, filling you in just the right way to leave you gasping for more. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on his hips to allow himself a better angle, and you swear you blacked out for a second. You were grateful for the strength he has from hockey or you’re certain you’d both be on the floor by now.

Your loud moans mixed with his own, surely filling the entirety of your apartment with the sound. A part of you hoped your neighbors couldn't hear, but a bigger part of you didn’t care. You finally had him back, and the both of you were making up for lost time. His hips snapped against your own as he brought his free hand back up to your neck, squeezing at the sides with the pressure he knew wouldn't hurt you.

You were clenching around him, sending him into a fit of blinding, white hot ecstasy. No matter times Quinn had imagined you when he fucked his own hand, it was absolutely nothing compared the real thing. Watching as your eyes screwed shut and his name fell from your lips in desperate whines was a sight he would never get tired of.

“Oh my god, Quinn,” You shakily cried out, your eyes rolling backwards and the top of your head hitting against the shower wall as he thrusted into you, “Jesus, fuck.”

“Such a pretty girl,” He praised as his hand dove between your bodies, his fingers coming to rub at the bundle of nerves, “You look so pretty wrapped around me, you know that? Fuck, you feel so good.”

You were gripping at his back as he split you open, your vision coming in and out as he rubbed at your overstimulated clit and repeatedly slammed into you. Your name was tumbling from his lips in grunts, only tightening the coil in your stomach as his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You could feel the heat swirling inside you as he rammed himself into you, and you knew you weren’t going to last much longer.

“Quinn, I’m going to- I’m gonna,” You stuttered as he worked himself deeper, harder.

“I know, baby. Let go,” He whispered your name like it was holy and just, “Come all over my cock, pretty girl.”

His words sent you flying over the edge, your third orgasm of the night sending you into a fit of unmistakable pleasure. Waves of contractions washed over your body as Quinn fucked you through your orgasm, his own crashing over him not too far after. His thrusts became sloppy and slow as he came inside of you, his head burying itself into the crook of your neck as he let out stifled moans against the skin.

You’re not sure how long you clung to each other with him still inside you, sounds of your heavy breathing replacing the previous moans that were probably still echoing somewhere in your apartment. However, what felt like hours but was probably not even five minutes later, Quinn pulled himself out of you, guiding your still shaking leg back down and keeping your body upright.

“Time to get cleaned up, yeah,” He teased, his thumb and forefinger coming up to grab your chin.

“Good thing we’re already in the shower,” You bantered back, eyelids slowly drooping courteous of the man in front of you.

You lazily pulled Quinn back into your hold, meeting his lips for yet another searing kiss. Yet this time, there was no desperation. There was no hunger. There was only love, and hope. Hope that, despite the damage that has been caused, the two of you will return to the best version of yourselves and let yourselves be happy without worry or fear.

again, please let me know if you see any mistakes. and let me know what you think! xoxox

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes smut

944 notes · View notes

todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 2 years ago

Text

"you can do whatever you want, you're not Stuck With Me."

"i'll tell you one thing, we'd make history, you and me. you're getting closer now, it's getting better now, but you're still so far gone."

synopsis// bottled up feelings have to come out eventually.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 8k

contents// angst with a happy ending, college!au, literally just y/n and geto being idiots but mostly y/n, shoko only knows tough love, obligatory rain scene, friends to lovers, ooc geto?

notes// scorpions are haunting me so i’m posting this as a distraction. anyways one of my anons requested this!!! so anon i hope i did ur idea justice and that u like it sorry its kinda all over the place.... anywho so besides this being a request, it was also inspired by the song the point by eatmewhileimhot! bye :3 OH and if anyone else has any other requests feel free to lmk!!

You poke at your food, focusing on the sound your fork makes as it scrapes against your plate instead of whatever the person sitting across from you is saying. You know you should pay attention; you know you’re being rude, but god, are you bored out of your fucking mind. You would much rather be hanging out with Suguru right now, feeling a twinge of regret at turning him down just for this.

“Y/N?”

Your head raises to look at the person in front of you. “Huh?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You frown sheepishly. “Uh, no, sorry.”

“It’s fine,“ they say, clearing their throat, “I was just saying how I kinda wish we went somewhere else cause I'm craving zaru soba, but I wanted to impress you, you know?”

You nod, not computing the last of his sentence with your brain stuck on the mention of zaru soba. “Suguru likes that.”

“What?”

“Zaru soba—Suguru likes that.”

Your date shoots you a confused stare, and you subconsciously sink into your chair.

“Is, uh, is there something on my face or?” you ask, bringing your hands up to feel around your face.

They shake their head. “No, it’s just—uh, you bring up this Suguru guy a lot, and by a lot, I mean like you’ve brought him up this whole date...”

“I have?”

They nod.

“Shit—i’m sorry..”

“It’s fine.” They dismiss your apology by asking, “What is he to you anyway?”

You stare at him blankly. That’s an easy question. Suguru, to you, is your—he’s your—

“He your friend or something?”

Yes! Suguru is your friend—your best friend even—so why can't you say it out loud? Why are you hesitating?

You laugh nervously, mumbling, “Or something...”

“Or something?” they repeat in hopes you’ll elaborate on what you mean.

You don’t.

Instead, you stand abruptly out of your seat and gather your things. “Um! You know, this has been really great and all, but I actually think I should get going.”

"Oh, okay,” they say, standing up with you. “Uh, do you wanna do this again maybe?”

“You're a lovely person, but...

“It's Suguru, isn't it?”

“What?” You almost choke on your spit as you frantically stammer, “No, uh, no! It's not Suguru-Suguru’s just my-it's-“ you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “It's not because of him.”

They curtly hum. “Thanks for giving me a chance anyway.”

You nod. “I'm gonna—I'm gonna go.”

☆☆☆☆

Suguru is face down on a pillow on his bed when Gojo walks into their shared dorm.

“What happened now?” He asks as he goes to sit on the edge of Suguru’s bed.

“Y/N’s on a date,” he grumbles into the pillow, his words barely audible.

Gojo rolls his eyes. "Suguru, this is just sad at this point.”

Suguru lifts his head and glares at Gojo from over his shoulder. His eyes burning holes into the other's head.

“What? It is!”

Suguru groans and kicks Gojo as he buries his face back into his pillow.

“Ow! Don’t get mad at me for telling the truth!”

Suguru kicks him again.

“Stop that! You’re acting like a child!”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ok, listen, this isn’t about me,” Gojo adds, rolling his eyes.

Suguru rolls onto his back and drapes an arm over his face, muttering, “Whatever.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Gojo grumbles as he stands up and walks over to his own bed. “I can't take this, Suguru.“ He grabs his pillow and throws it at Suguru. "You can't do this every time they go on a date!”

Suguru doesn’t even flinch when the pillow lands on his face, nor does he bother moving it as he responds, “Watch me.”

Gojo walks back over to Suguru and grabs the pillow from his face before resuming his position on the end of Suguru's bed. "How long has it been?”

“Since?”

“Since you first started liking them.”

Suguru hesitates to answer, “Too long.”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, shaking the pillow in his hands for dramatic effect. “Maybe…”

Suguru waits a moment to see if Gojo will finish his sentence, and when he doesn’t, Suguru sits up, quirking up his eyebrow at him as he asks slowly, as if attempting to subtly warn Gojo to pick his next words carefully: "Maybe what, Gojo?”

“Maybe it’s time to try and move on, Suguru…” He frowns and asks softly, “Are you just gonna torture yourself like this for the rest of your life?”

Suguru sighs and turns away from Gojo, a small frown on his face. He knows he’s right, but he’s scared in all honesty because, on the one hand, what if it works? What if he actually does move on? What if it was this easy to move on this whole time and he was just here torturing himself for nothing? And on the other hand, he doesn't want it to. He’s liked you for so long. You've taken up so much of his heart that, at this point, he thinks his heart is shaped like you, and it would feel wrong to not like you. He can't imagine himself not being completely and utterly devoted to you, and he doesn’t think he wants to.

“Suguru.”

Suguru's brows knit together as he looks up at Gojo.

Gojo sighs. “Just try? One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. “I don’t even know anybody, Gojo.”

He perks up at the absence of rejection and happily explains, “Don’t worry bout that; leave it all up to me!" He emphasizes the word 'me' by pointing toward himself.

“Ok, well, that makes me even more inclined to say no.”

"Suguru, pleaseee,” Gojo begs. “Just one date!! That’s all I’m asking! You’re my friend, Suguru, and I know I don’t act like it, but I really do hate seeing you like this.”

Suguru crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow at him in suspicion, wondering, “Why are you being nice?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I do in fact care about my friends.”

Suguru breathes out heavily at his response, letting a brief silence wash over them.

“So..." Gojo pries.

“Fine.”

“Yay!-“

Suguru instantly cuts him off, one finger raised, as he emphasizes sharply, “But just one date, Gojo.“

“Good enough for me!” he says, nodding quickly. “This will be the best date of your life, and you’ll realize you don’t even like Y/N all that much!”

Suguru feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him from that statement but quickly plays it off with a scoff, “Yeah, or it’s the worst date of my life, and I realize just how much more I like Y/N.”

“Ok, well,“ Gojo frowns and scratches his head awkwardly, “Can we at least try to be optimistic?”

“Fine.”

☆☆☆☆

Shoko’s sitting on her bed with her textbook in her lap when you enter your dorm, kicking your shoes off haphazardly across the room and slamming the door shut.

“You good?”

You groan in response as you sluggishly make your way toward her, pushing the book off her lap and instead replacing it with your head.

She looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I was reading that, you know.”

You groan again, but this time it comes out louder and more gutteral.

“Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or are you gonna just lay here in my lap groaning?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

You pout, looking up at her. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Where should I start?”

“Shoko,” you whine.

She bites back a smile as she asks, “Why would you think something's wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I mean, I go on so many dates, right?”

Shoko nods and hums something in acknowledgment.

“But they all never end up working out! Like none of them!” You exclaim, throwing your hands out in front of you, barely missing Shoko, who jerks her head to the side just in time. “They always all say the same thing.”

She pushes your hands back down so that she can return to her original position and asks, “Which is?”

You let your hands fall onto your chest as you turned your head to the side to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “That I mention Suguru a lot.”

You don’t even have to look back up at her to know she’s raising her eyebrows at you in question.

“Well, do you?”

Your gaze snaps back up at her as you exclaim, “Yeah, but!” You pause. “He's my… He's my best friend, so obviously I'd mention him a lot!”

The word best friend feels heavy and foreign in your mouth, like it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You’ve never had to put a label on you and Suguru, not until the dates at least, but even then, you and Suguru were just... simply that. You were just you and Suguru.

“Really feeling the love here.”

“Shokoooooo.”

She rolls her eyes. “You were just on a date, right?”

You nod.

“And so what happened?”

“Nothing! I was bored; I'm always bored on these dates.”

"Okay, hypothetically,” she says, “What would you have rather been doing?”

“Hanging out with Suguru! I always tell myself that I'm literally gonna stop canceling on him for dates because I always end up regretting it.”

“Right, right,” she says, nodding. “Y/N, have you ever considered that maybe you like Geto?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I like Suguru, idiot. Did you not just hear me call him my-“

She cuts you off: “Your best friend. Yeah, whatever; that's not what I mean. I mean, like. romantically.”

“Huh?” Shoko’s words take a minute to fully register in your brain, but once they do, your jaw drops. “Huh?! Pft, no, of course not, that is... That is a… That is a silly thought.”

She stares down at you blankly, knowing the way you just stumbled over your whole sentence reveals your lack of conviction in your own words. "Right… Well, if you’re gonna be an idiot in denial, can you do that in your own bed? I need to study.”

You roll your eyes as you sit up. “Is studying all you do?”

She shrugs, and now that her lap is free from you, she places her textbook back into her lap. “Is obsessing over Geto all you do?”

“I don't like you.”

“You love me. Now leave me alone.”

You begrudgingly hop off her bed and into your own, making it a point to sigh dramatically the whole time. Once you're in your own bed, your phone goes off, and upon seeing who the message is from, you bite back a smile.

Shoko looks up from her textbook at the noise. “Oh? That your man?”

“Shut your mouth.”

She simply laughs under her breath before returning to her studies, and you happily return your attention back to your phone.

Suguru<3: hey

Y/N: hey!

Suguru<3: oh I didn't expect you to reply so quick lol. I thought u were on a date?

Y/N: was :/ that shit suckedddddd it was so boring Suguru pls I would've much rather hung out with you

Suguru<3: well I mean u could've

Y/N: I KNOWWWW ugh next time remind me to never cancel on you for a lame date again k?

Suguru<3: yeah I will… so I'm taking it you won't be seeing them again?

Y/N: definitely not... I do wanna see u again tho!!

Suguru<3: you'll see me in class y/n

Y/N: yeah but that's so far awayyyyy

Suguru<3: yk if u wanna hangout rn u can just say so

Y/N: do u wanna hang out?

Suguru<3: he can't he's busy -gojo

Y/N: gojo when I get my hands on u.

Suguru<3: :p -gojo

You groan dramatically and throw your phone somewhere onto your bed as you shove your face into your pillow, mumbling, “I'm going to sleep.”

“Eager to see your man tomorrow?”

“Die.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Gojo and Suguru are walking to class when Gojo starts humming obnoxiously, like he’s thinking about something and wants someone to notice, so he doesn’t stop until Suguru sighs.

“Can you shut up?”

Gojo frowns and feigns hurt. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m thinking about?”

“Fine, what are you thinking about, Gojo?”

Gojo slightly leans in toward Suguru as he coos, “Thinking about who I’m gonna set you up with, obviously!”

"Oh, right about that...”

“Nuh uh, you can't back out!”

“But I think they might feel the same?” Suguru says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gojo’s head whips toward Suguru in shock. “Wait huh?”

“Before you stole my phone yesterday—which I’m still mad about, by the way—they said they would’ve rather hung out with me than go on the date,” he says, pulling out his phone to show Gojo the texts.

Gojo doesn’t say anything, and the lack of anything coming out of his mouth worries Suguru, who’s now scanning Gojo’s face for a trace of anything to tell him what the other is thinking and gets it when Gojo finally cracks a frown.

“What? Why do you look like that?” Suguru asks, and he hates how it comes out more panicked than he intended, his own voice like nails on a chalkboard to his ears.

“I don't wanna say anything that would get your hopes up,” Gojo says, his gaze now fixed on his steps. “And besides, maybe this date could still be good.”

“You’re not gonna let me get out of this, are you?”

“Of course not!” he says, his regular pep back in his step. “So does tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, whatever, Gojo, you’d make me go regardless, I don’t know why you ask.”

“Lol, true anyway." Gojo’s steps come to a halt. "Here’s my class; see you later!”

Suguru waves him off: "Yeah, whatever, oh, and Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“At least set me up with someone good," he says, an ever-so-slight smile on his face.

“Of course! Leave it all up to me, bestie!”

Suguru nods and continues on toward his own class, only then does he huff, “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

☆☆☆☆

You sat in your seat, your cheek leaning in your palm, sighing every so often from boredom but quickly perking up when you notice a familiar face walk through the door.

“Suguru!”

“Y/N!”

Your gaze is glued to him as you watch him take his seat beside you; only once he’s fully situated do you speak up again: “I was wondering if you were skipping or something.”

Suguru tilts his head at you in confusion, asking, “Why?”

“Because you took so long.”

He tries to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up. What were you doing anyway?”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Gojo made me walk him to class.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice unamused as you speak, ��Lame excuse, I walk with Shoko to her class every day and I still get here before you.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it’s Shoko?”

“True, I’ll excuse it for today if...”

“If?” He narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue your sentence.

“If we hang out tomorrow?”

“Can we hang out today?” He looks away as he says, “I’m kinda busy tomorrow....”

“Aw man,” you say, frowning, “You’re never busy.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just—" He halts before mumbling out the rest of his sentence—“something Gojo’s making me do.”

Suguru finally returns his gaze to you when he hears you huff.

“He’s taking you from me too often; I'll have to intervene sooner or later if he keeps this up.”

He stifles a laugh. “Can you not today?”

“Nope, I've gotta work on a project for one of my classes,” you say with a disappointed sigh.

“Okay, well, how about Wednesday, then?”

“I can fit you into my schedule, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up; don’t act like you weren’t the one asking me to hang out last night.”

“I was a different person then,” you deadpan.

Suguru rolls his eyes but can’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Yeah, ok.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Come the next afternoon, Suguru finds himself staring into a mirror at his outfit with a small scowl on his face.

“I look stupid.”

“You always look stupid,” Gojo remarks, patting Suguru on the back.

Suguru ignores him and rolls his eyes, his voice small as he borderline pleads, “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes! It’s too late to back out now when your date is in like twenty minutes, so really you should get going by now,” he says while attempting to push Suguru out the door.

Suguru doesn’t budge. “I don't even know this person, Gojo.”

“That’s what dates are for!”

Suguru looks over his shoulder at Gojo, who’s still trying to push him out the door. “You know this isn’t gonna work, right?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and huffs, “Well, not with that attitude.”

“Gojo.”

“Suguru, you said you’d try! so go! try!”

Suguru sighs and reluctantly gives in… again. “I hate you.”

Gojo waves him off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you can hate me after your date.”

Suguru doesn’t reply and instead opts to flip him off as he walks out the door.

☆☆☆☆

Suguru sits at a secluded booth in a dimly lit restaurant, lost in thought rather than listening to whatever the person sitting across from him is saying. He knows he should be paying attention; he knows he’s being rude, but god is he bored out of his fucking mind, and to say he’s hating every second of this is an understatement. He’d much rather be hanging out with you right now, regretting turning you down for this because just being here makes a part of him feel like he’s betraying you, and the thought has him anxiously wiping his sweaty palms against his pants. He’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you. Suguru was naive to believe he could delude himself into thinking that there was any possibility in any way that he’d move on, let alone with someone Gojo picked.

“Suguru?”

He quickly looks up at the person in front of him. “Yeah?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry—I guess I was just, uh, lost in thought.”

"Oh, it’s fine,” they say, confusingly normal about the whole situation. “I was just, um, talking about your friend Gojo, actually.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“I was actually hoping you'd help me get with him?”

“You do realize you're on a date with me, right?”

“Please.” They roll their eyes. “Don't act like you wanna be here any more than I do right now.”

“How did-“

“It's written all over your face, you know? They must be really special.” They tease with a sweet smile, “I almost feel like I should be jealous.”

Suguru swallows harshly, suddenly feeling way more exposed than he would ever want to, especially on a ‘date’. “Sorry…”

They shrug. “Don't be; honestly, I just said yes to this to get some pointers on Gojo, so I don't think I'm any better than you right now.”

Suguru nods, his mind reeling. He’s not actually sure what’s going on or how he got here in the first place. How could his date be so okay with the fact that he’s here thinking about someone else? Oh, right, because so are they, but it’s still not clicking in his brain.

“You can leave if you want.”

He narrows his eyes at them skeptically. “Huh?”

“To go hang out with the one you actually like.”

Suguru shakes his head. There’s somehow too much happening right now for him to comprehend. “Again, what?”

They roll their eyes playfully, an amused smile on their face, as they lean over the table and whisper, “Suguru, I'm giving you an out.”

He blinks, and suddenly everything clicks, and he doesn’t understand why he’s still here when they just told him they could go to you. He stands up abruptly and says, “Right, I'm...“

“Don't say you're sorry; make it up to me by going to them, yeah?”

“I really appreciate that. Uhm, text me and I'll give you pointers on Gojo?”

They laugh and nod. “Yeah. Now, shoo, go to the one you actually want to be with.”

Suguru turns his head toward the exit of the restaurant, ready to leave, but pauses and ends up turning back to his ‘date’, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“Mhm! Also, I want to meet them sometime, k? We’re friends now, sorry!”

“Yeah… Yeah, you can. Someday? Maybe…”

They tilt their head at him, unamused despite the smile on their face. “Bye Suguru.”

He returns the smile and waves before heading off to find you.

☆☆☆☆

You found yourself under a tree somewhere on campus, attempting—and failing—to entertain yourself since Suguru was busy and couldn't hang out, and you didn't even dare try to go to Shoko for entertainment, knowing her face is probably stuffed into her textbook and she would berate you for interrupting her, or if she did agree, she would spend the whole time with her whole face screaming how she would much rather be studying, even when her studying proves to be just for fun because she cheats on her exams anyway, but you digress. Lost in thought, you don't notice how someone’s approached you until their shadow falls over you.

“You dead?”

You look up and are pleasantly surprised to see Suguru. “Hey! I thought you were busy?”

Suguru shrugs. “Left early.”

“What’d you go do anyway?”

“A date.”

The minute the words leave Suguru’s mouth, you can feel your stomach churn in a horrible way. like you’re on a rollercoaster, but it's not fun; you want to get off, and you want to get off now, like this is final destination and you’re about to fall to your doom. Or more so, this makes you realize you've already fallen to your doom; you've already fallen in love with Suguru, and it took Shoko saying something and him going on a date for it to really sink in like it hadn't been there all along. Your jaw clenches, and you're quiet—terrifyingly quiet—and it makes Suguru regret saying anything; he doesn’t even know why he did... Okay, no, he knows. He knows he was acting petty and wanted to rub it in your face like you rub your dates in his, even if not purposeful, and besides, you two are friends, and friends are honest with each other. But maybe he shouldn’t have been, and it's excrutiatingly obvious he shouldn't have been when you suddenly stand up and avoid his gaze.

“Y/N?”

You kick at the dirt under your shoes and mumble, “I should, um, Shoko actually just texted me.”

“Y/N, can you look at me, please?” Suguru sounds desperate.

You look up at him and smile, but with the way your eyes are glazed over, it’s like you’re not even there. “Yeah?”

“I thought we could hang out now?”

“Yeah, but—ugh—Shoko really needs my help, you know?”

“Are we still on for tomorrow at least?”

“I hope your date was good, Suguru.”

“Y/N-“

“If I keep her waiting any longer, she’ll be really mad. I’m gonna go.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suguru wishes he could say he’s surprised when you don’t show up to class the next day, but he’s not. Not at all. Especially from the way you ran off yesterday to how you’re still not answering any of his texts or calls, it was a telltale sign that Suguru would not be seeing you today. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Of course not. So halfway through class, he left—not like he was paying attention anyway—and made his way to your dorm. Though he hesitates to knock once he’s actually there, he doesn’t even know why you’re ignoring him in the first place, and honestly? He’s scared to find out.

You’ve never acted like this with him before; you’ve always been an open book, always the first to speak up if something he did upset you, so he doesn’t understand why you’ve suddenly done a complete 180. He takes a deep breath before knocking. He came all this way; he isn’t going to just leave without figuring out what's wrong—or at least he’s going to try to figure out what's wrong.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

Suguru groans as he goes to knock one more time, but before he can, the door is swung open, and he’s met with a disheveled-looking Shoko.

“What?”

“Shoko, hi—“ Suguru gives her a quick once-over. "Sorry, were you asleep?”

She crosses her arms and blows a tuft of hair out of her face. “I was, and I'd like to go back to sleep, so-“

“Right, sorry, uh, is Y/N here?”

“No,” she replies quickly, far too quickly that Suguru doesn't believe her and instead tries to look into the room to find you. Shoko immediately picks up on this and shifts her body to cover any gaps he could look through. “They aren’t here, sorry.”

“Shoko,” he monotones.

She chews the inside of her lip and looks away, and Suguru can tell she's dying to say something, but she ultimately decides against it and shakes her head, looking back up at him.

“They’re not here, sorry.”

Suguru sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It's fine, sorry for waking you.”

“It's fine… Take care of yourself, Geto.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Shoko quickly shuts the door, and instead of climbing back into bed, she grabs her pillow and makes her way toward your bed, only to end up hitting you with it repeatedly. You pull your covers over your head in a futile attempt to protect yourself.

“Shoko, stop!”

“You stop.” She punctuates every word with a hit of her pillow.

“You’re the one hitting me!”

Shoko hits you one last time. “I mean, stop ignoring him, idiot.”

You peek your head out from under the covers, a frown on your face.

“Don't look at me like that; you’re acting childish, and you know that.”

“I can’t look at him.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Shoko, I'm serious!” You speak adamantly, sitting up. “I mean, I realize I like him the exact moment he tells me he went on a date?”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Shoko, I-I can't.”

“Whatever, sulk all you want; don't talk to him about it; I don't care; just scoot over.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“I'm tired,” she says blankly, now climbing into your bed.

You listen and scoot over, though it's more like she pushes you over. “You know you have your own bed, right?”

She yawns: “Too far away.”

You look down at her, and she's somehow already fast asleep. You roll your eyes and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling with your mind racing, and suddenly your phone vibrates. You know who it is; he’s the only one who texts you, but that doesn’t stop you from checking anyway.

Suguru<3: hey.

Suguru<3: did I do something?

Suguru<3: I don't understand.

Suguru<3: you weren't in class so I tried going to ur dorm. shoko said you weren't there but I don't really believe her.

Suguru<3: can you just talk to me please?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

Suguru<3: guess this means we aren’t hanging out today huh?

Suguru<3: text me soon please.

☆☆☆☆

Thursday

Suguru<3: no class again?

Suguru<3: look I get it

Suguru<3: okay maybe I don't.

Suguru<3: I don't know what I did wrong but if you don't wanna talk that's fine

Suguru<3: can you just let me know you’re okay?

Suguru<3: fuck I don't even care if you have shoko tell me you’re okay or if you tell gojo I just

Suguru<3: I just need to know you’re okay y/n.

Suguru<3: how long are you gonna avoid me?

Suguru<3: or avoid class?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

“Can you answer your fucking phone,” Shoko snaps.

You glare at her and instead shut your phone off completely. “There. Happy?”

"No, not at all; I won't be happy till you stop sulking.”

You smile at her condescendingly. "You are so lovely; did you know that?”

She sighs deeply. “Y/N, you’re ignoring Geto because he went on one date.”

“I'm ignoring him because I'm in love with him.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “And he's supposed to know that how? I'm a hundred percent sure the poor boy has no clue what he did.”

“Shoko, you don't get it! You've never been in love,” you sneer.

“I don't need to be in love to know you're acting stupid.” She shakes her head. “You know what? Ignore him all you want; that's your problem, but you need to go to class; don't throw away your college degree for him.”

You sigh, finally agreeing with her on at least one thing. “Yeah... Yeah, I know I'll go tomorrow.”

She nods happily. “Good. Now can I get back to studying?”

“I'm not the one who made you stop, you took that upon yourself.”

“Watch yourself; I'll walk my ass straight to Geto's dorm and tell him for you.”

“…Sorry”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You get to class the next day extremely early and take a seat in the far back, away from everyone else, hoping Suguru would somehow not see you, or maybe more like in hopes you wouldn’t see him. It doesn't work. The minute he walks in, his eyes are drawn to yours like there was an invisible string there tying him directly to you, and your stomach twists as you see him approach you. As he’s approaching you, he sees your face, and he sees how you look like you're five seconds away from vomiting up everything you’ve ever eaten since you were born, so he stops in his tracks. Besides, a confrontation in the middle of class wouldn't be a good idea either way, so he’ll just catch you after class.

That somehow proves to be much harder than it should have been because once class ends and he turns around to catch you before you leave, you're already gone. He blinks incredulously at your empty seat for a moment before snapping out of it and running out into the halls, trying to find you among the crowd of people, which is easy for him considering you're the only thing that exists to Suguru right now and pretty much always, but even despite that, he can't find you. He stands in the hall, watching people pass him by as he does nothing, and the only thing he can hear is his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the rain that suddenly started sometime during all of this.

He finally snaps out of it once more and realizes that since it randomly started raining, there's a chance that you're somewhere waiting the rain out, unless you are so dead set on avoiding him that you don't care in the first place and walk back to your dorm in the rain anyway... Suguru hopes he's right as he starts walking toward the exit, and exhales heavily in relief when he sees you out on the porch and slowly creeps up behind you.

“Did you know it was gonna rain?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. “No.”

Suguru’s heart feels like it's about to burst right out of his chest, and he feels like it's been way too long since he's heard your voice. “I think Gojo is gonna bring me an umbrella; do you wanna wait with me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shake your head and start walking out into the rain, but you don't get far when Suguru reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Wait!”

You look back at him, your jaw clenched tight. “Let go of me, Suguru.”

“You’ll get sick.”

You yank your wrist out of his grasp. “I don't care; I want to go back to my dorm.”

For a few moments, Suguru feels stuck in place as he watches you begin to walk away, yet everything in his being is screaming at him to go after you, to not let you go. He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath this whole time until he gasps for air, and at the same time, his body finally decides to align with his mind, and he runs after you. You can hear his foot steps pattering against puddles, which only makes you speed up your walking.

Suguru notices this, and although he's still chasing after you, he decides to call out a pained, “Why are you ignoring me?”

You almost don't even hear him over how loud the rain has grown.

Almost.

“I'm not ignoring you, Suguru,” you say, stopping in your tracks with a deep sigh. He’ll catch you sooner or later, so maybe it's best to just get it over with.

Suguru doesn’t say anything until he's right behind you. You can hear just how clearly his voice trembles as he says, “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I'm no-“

“What the fuck happened? What are you doing?” and although he sounded exasperated only a second ago, when he speaks again, it's horrifyingly subdued: “This—this isn't us.”

You whip around to face him, a scowl on your face as you fume, “There is no us.”

Suguru’s face goes blank. No us? That's not right. That's all there is. There's only ever been an us because Suguru is not him without you. It's never just Suguru. It's you and Suguru; it's him and you; there's no him without you.

“What?”

“There is no us, Suguru; that's—“ you say, gesturing in little circles with your hands in front of you, trying to act out whatever word you're looking for. “That's the fucking problem.”

“I don't—“ His voice is breathy as he shakes his head in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“No,” he says sternly, "No, I don't. I need to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rain falling against your face rather than the words coming out of your mouth: “I'm in love with you.”

The silence is suffocating, and you're violently aware of how you can feel Suguru’s eyes burning holes into you. You swallow harshly before peeking your eyes open, and he’s just standing there wide-eyed, his jaw slack.

“Suguru?”

“Why now?”

With his voice so small and brittle, you hardly even heard him.

“Huh?”

“Why now?” he repeats, this time louder, harsher.

“I don't—I don't understand?”

Suguru laughs in disbelief. He brings his hands up to cover his face, and he just laughs into them or cries; he's not even quite sure anymore. And after a few moments of this, he finally takes a deep breath, running one hand down his face as the other drops back to his side. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with you, Y/N?”

“What?” You’re hopeful for a moment, but that all comes quickly crashing down, realization washing over you. “Wait, but you went on a date.”

“Y/N, it's been so long that Gojo got tired of me wallowing in my own self-pity every time you went on a date.” He sighs and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “So he forced me to go on one too to try and help me move on.”

“Why didn't you wait for me?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Suguru doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head. “No, I know, but I don't understand.”

Your face scrunches up in disdain, silently reading—what's there to not understand? “Why didn't you wait for me to fall in love with you?”

“Y/N, do you even hear what you're saying right now?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear what I'm saying? All I've ever fucking done was wait for you, and I go on one date that I left early for you, and now I'm the bad guy?”

Your heart sinks like a bag of rocks into a deep body of water. “No wait, Suguru, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”

Suguru looks down, avoiding your stare, carefully tapping a puddle with the tip of his shoe as he mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Do-“ you stop yourself and swallow harshly before continuing, “Are you still in love with me?”

He stays silent, and embarrassment floods your bones. How could he still love you? You, who's been subconsciously dangling a treat in front of him like some kind of animal just to coax him into doing what you want, into staying with you, following you around, just because you were too out of touch to realize you even liked him in the first place. Of course, he wouldn't still love you.

“Of course I am. Don't be silly,” he reluctantly admits.

Relief washes over you, and the breath you take feels like the first one you've taken since Tuesday, when he told you about his date in the first place. “So... now what?”

The same relief does not wash over Suguru; in fact, he's feeling anything but relief. Too many things to name, to pin point; it's just all too much. This is just too much. “I need space; I can't—" he shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I can't do this right now.”

“What?”

“I just. I can't. I'm sorry.”

Your voice cracks, “But-“

“I just need to think about this,” he says, waving his hands around in small circles, referencing the two of you.

“Oh.” You take a step back and nod. “Okay. I'll go then... I love you, Suguru.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Suguru watches you walk away, and he can't tell his tears apart from the rain; can’t tell if his heart is stopping or if it's racing; can't tell if he's breathing or suffocating; he can't tell anything. His surroundings are drowning out and blurring into vague shapes and figures around him, and Suguru is sure he could just drop dead right then and there.

“Jeez, I didn't take that long that you had to walk out in the rain, dramatic much?”

Suguru, in all honesty, didn’t hear a word that was just said; the only thing that caught his attention was the lack of rain hitting him. He looks up to find an umbrella there instead of the dark cloudy sky that resembled his insides a little too much, then looks to his side to find Gojo there, and he wants to wipe the stupid grin off his face. If he can't be happy, why should Gojo? His head drops in defeat at his own thoughts. God, he’s acting shitty.

“Sorry.”

Gojo looks at him curiously. “You good?”

“No. No, I'm not good.”

"Hey dude, what's wrong?”

Suguru lets out a harsh laugh, and with no rain hitting him anymore, he knows for sure the thing dripping down his face is tears. “I fucked up.“

Gojo scans Suguru’s face frantically, looking for something—anything—that will tell him what's wrong with his best friend.

“Suguru, you have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Y/N loves me back.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed, and he gives a confused smile because how could this warrant his friend’s reaction? “What dude, that's gr-“

Suguru quickly cuts him off: "Great, I know, but I told them to give me space, Gojo.”

Frankly, Gojo isn't even worried anymore; he’s just in complete disbelief, shouting, “What? Why the hell would you do that?! Are you stupid?”

“Maybe!” he shouts back, trembling. “I don't know! They just— They went on about how I should've waited for them, and I was mad because that's all I've ever fucking done. I don't know; I wasn't thinking straight, and I fucked up, and they left. I made them leave. I asked for space when I hated all the space we've had from each other this whole week, and I asked for more?” He repeatedly hits his forehead with his palm, muttering, “I'm an idiot, fuck.“

“Suguru.”

“What?”

Gojo tilts his head at him. “Why are you still here?”

The question stills his movements, his hand falling back to his side, and he stares at Gojo in pure confusion. “What?”

“You obviously know that space isn't what you want, and you just said it in the heat of the moment, so why are you still here?”

Suguru is silent.

“Why aren't you running after them? They want you, dude! And you want them too!”

Suguru thinks if it weren’t for Gojo constantly moving, he'd think time had completely stopped in time with his realization on how he’s a complete moron.

“Suguru.”

Suguru sighs. “I hate when you're right; you know that?”

Gojo perks up knowing that he got through to Suguru; he coos sing-song, “If that were true, you'd hate me all the time.”

Suguru nods, “I do.”

“Oh, shut up." Gojo extends the handle of his umbrella toward Suguru. “Do you want my umbrella?”

“No, it’s fine; I’m already wet,” Suguru says, looking down at his soaked clothes as he wipes any remaining tears away. “What’s a little bit more water?”

“Good luck, Suguru.”

“Thanks Gojo.”

☆☆☆☆

You walk into your dorm slowly, in a daze-like state. Honestly, you don't even remember walking here; you just remember your fight? confession? argument? — your something with Suguru, and then there's a lapse in your memory, and now you're here.

“Y/N, dude, you're getting water everywhere.“

You sniffle and look down at the puddle that's forming underneath you. “Sorry.”

Shoko tentatively stands up from her bed and cranes her neck down to try and look at your face. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You look up at her with a wobbly smile. “I confessed.”

She looks at you blankly, unsure if she should say something or if you are.

“He asked for space.”

“He likes you, and he asked for space?”

“I didn't tell you that—“

“It's obvious; keep up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, so he asked for space?”

You nod blankly. “Uh huh.”

“Why?”

You rub your eyes in hopes that not looking at Shoko will make the embarrassment lessen. “I said some things in the heat of the moment, and... and yeah.”

It doesn’t.

She’s strangely unfazed; in fact, if anything, she’s partially annoyed. “Ok, and you’re just going to listen to him?”

“What else am I supposed to do, Shoko?” you ask incredulously, glaring at her with your hands back at your sides.

“Fight for him? He likes you back, and if you said something in the heat of the moment, odds are that him asking for space was also just in the heat of the moment.”

“You weren't there, Shoko. You didn't see how he was looking at me—at how he said it.”

“Y/N,” she says disappointedly, eyes shut and pinching her nose bridge. “He's literally been so upset at you ignoring him these past few days; do you really think he meant it when he asked for space? Even more space?”

You blink at her, your mind gone blank.

“Look, maybe he did, yeah? But maybe he didn't, and you won't know unless you go fight for him.”

“I don't know Shoko,” you mumble skeptically.

She rolls her eyes as she rebuts, "At the very least, you can apologize for what you said.”

“I already did.”

“Again, this time now that your head is… somewhat clearer... Are you really just gonna let him get away like this?”

“…no,” you answer weakly, which isn’t good enough for you or Shoko, who’s looking at you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “No,” you say again, this time with true conviction behind your words—word. “I don't want to let him get away like this. I don't want it to end like this.”

She gestures toward the door with a small, proud smile on her face. “Then go.”

You look back at the door before looking back at her and nodding. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Uh huh,” she says, starting to walk back toward her bed, “and when you come back, you better not make another puddle.”

“No promises.”

☆☆☆☆

In an attempt to save whatever dignity you have left, you decide not to run down the halls like a shitty rom-com cliché; instead, you speed walk. Which, in hindsight, is probably even more embarrassing than just full-sending it by running, but you digress. You barely get halfway down the hall when you see Suguru. Both of you make eye contact at the same time, yet neither of you stop making your way toward each other, but you both slow down, carefully walking toward each other like two predators about to attack.

“You're leaving puddles in the hall,” you say quietly now that the two of you have come to a halt right in front of each other.

Suguru nods and looks you up and down. “So are you.”

You both stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. Allowing your presence to speak for itself, but it's awkward—too awkward—and it feels like your knees are gonna give out on you if you stare at him any longer in silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for you." He shakes his head, ignoring his own answer, like his very words aren't the most important thing to you right now. He came for you. “What are you doing here? I thought you would’ve been in your dorm by now.“

“I was—“ your voice grows quiet, “But I was coming for you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for, Suguru. I shouldn’t have said what I said; that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want space,” he blurts out, hardly acknowledging your apology, which he didn't need in the first place. What he needs is you, and it will always be you.

“You don’t?”

“God no,” he says vehemently. “Space is the last thing I want. I don’t want space from you. I feel like there’s something missing when I’m away from you. How could I ever want space, Y/N?” His voice cracks a little at the end, and it has your heart racing. “I was just mad, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

You have all of these feelings inside you, and you’ve cried enough today to last the rest of your life, so instead you find yourself laughing, and Suguru looks slightly mortified.

“Why are you laughing?”

You laugh some more before trying to catch your breath, and you take a step forward closer toward him as you speak through deep breaths, “I’m just so fucking relieved. I-fuck-I love you, Suguru.”

Suguru closes the space between you two, pulling you into his embrace, and you tuck your face into his shoulder, his cold, damp clothes doing wonders to soothe your now-burning cheeks.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“I think we look stupid standing here soaking wet and hugging...”

“Wanna make ourselves look even stupider by standing here soaking wet and kissing?”

You pull away ever so slightly just to look at him, and he’s staring at you with a smirk, and the longer he waits, the more furious the blush on his cheeks gets, and you can't help but stall your answer even more just for that reason.

“…matter of fact, yes, I do.”

Suguru grins widely but wastes no time connecting your lips together. The kiss is better than you could have ever imagined; it's gentle yet passionate all at once, and it's sloppy because neither of you can fully stop smiling long enough to keep the kisses consistent. And It's everything. He's everything, and you're mad that it even took you this long to realize that in the first place, but at least you don't have to worry about that anymore. Now you just have to worry about the fact that you two will probably end up getting sick from your wet clothes, but that's a problem for after you two stop kissing—if you two ever stop kissing.

734 notes · View notes

parasolyaa · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!! How are you doing?

I saw your post inviting asks and something I've been wondering is, if you could tell me about some things from Misha's childhood that are unique to Ukraine which he might feel nostalgic for as a young adult (snacks, toys, kids tv shows, etc)?

Thank you for the informative posts you make, you're awesome ☺️

hi!! i'm doing good tysm!!! couldn't be otherwise after getting an ask from the most legendary artist in this fandom, i adore your ricky art!! i'll use this post as an excuse to yap endlessly about random media that will mostly be irrelevant, but also a peek into that time and place. sort of.

the epithome of ukrainian childhood nostalgia is zhyvchyk: both a drink and a tv show (which is just an advertisement for that drink). it’s a bubbly apple soda, in other words - a drink of gods.

(also fun fact: after russia occupied crimea, they tried to make their own version of zhychyk there. they called it zhyvunchik and the only design change was that they ??cut off the arms of the mascot?? since zhyvchyk basically means “lively guy”, it was kinda ironic)

other drinks he’d definitely miss would be kvas and kompot (obligatory laughing and giggling when he calls it cumpot).

starting off with more traditional snacks, i envision young misha with a necklace of booblycks (obligatory laughing and giggling when he calls it booblicks)

also any roshen candy! (obligatory laughing and giggling when he mentions the nut out chocolates) (they indeed are called that) (they are pretty recent tho). the undying classic is crazy bee and shypuchka/fizzy boom (the darker green design is the older one).

also there are some fancy sets, associated with holidays or family gettogethers. strila/arrow, kyiv evening and kyiv cake

the thing misha would DEFINETELY love and miss is flint ?bread chips?, this is an unmatched snack. once again, darker green design is the older one, and also with a pretty wild taste. there is a big variety of those.

ukrainian childhood cartoons were mostly distributed among three channels - pixel, plusplus and malyatko tv (disney, nickelodeon and cartoon network were here too, but no point in talking abt them now). the first two usually broadcastered whatever cartoons from around the world were relevant at the time (ukrainian dub for ducktales was unmatched!!), and also a few ukrainian things. i will highlight "abetka tivi" (alphabet tv) from pixel. it was, well, a show about learning the alphabet. "auntie owl’s lessons" was another one, and there were much more episodes, usually about famous art, world history and etiquette.

on plusplus, there was a show called "fairytale with dad", in which male celebrities read out fairytales to children. something about healing daddy issues with this one. also there is a whole plusplus cinematic universe, because this show sometimes intervened with another original show of theirs about ??shapes going on adventures??. and there was a show called useful suggestions, which was universally disliked by kids for being too on the nose about the life lessons they were trying to teach.

and then there was malyatko tv. when it stopped broadcasting in 2023, everyone weeped and so did i. there were vibrant music videos, eg "turtle aha", "helper boy" (self PR for my fic with that name. sorry.) and other. and, even though this wasn’t original ukrainian content, i feel the need to mention this: malyatko tv often showed some old anime cartoons - "haidi", "pocahontas" and others. ukrainian opening dubs were ethereal. to me.

there also were old cartoon classics (broadcasted on a creepy channel called children's world, an ugly sibling of malyatko tv) - the “how cossacks” series and “there once was a dog", but there were tons more.

(also this made me remember another long-gone channel called Qtv. basically what the cool kids watched, it also shows up in every tiktok #ukrainechildhood #nostalgia #2000s video. it's showed simpsons and stuff and had cheeky editing, eg in an advertisement for death note they only showed spongebob clips to make it look like he was kira. pretty funny imo)

peak nostalgia is the show "країна у" (country u? krayina u? untranslatable title), which is a dumb sketch show consisting of shows on its own about people from different regions of ukraine. bringing this up because odesa was one of them, and, no matter if misha disliked this show or not, this definetely impacted his childhood. the schtik about "once upon in odesa" was that there were four guys in odesa and uuuuh that's it? i don't remember much about it tbh ...

there were also popular reality tv shows and stuff, i really really wanna highlight "the world inside out". it's a travel show about this dude dmytro komarov getting to most remote an unique places in the world. don't get me wrong, he was being an idiot half the time, but it was peak entertainment. he uploaded old episodes with english dub on youtube and now does charity work. props to him

back to cartoons, "fox mykyta" was a nice, more modern cartoon. it's vaguely based on ivan franko's book with the same name, which in turn is vaguely based on "the blue jackal". speaking of books, ukrainian school literature programe is traumatising asf, and i just need to mention "fedko-brigand". it's a short story about a young boy who misbehaved but only lied once, when he took the blame for pushing a rich boy in the river, which he didn't do. it's also the reason why ukrainian 5th graders all spent at least one night crying, and since rereading it, i just keep thinking about misha. i feel like he'd relate

i'm convinced every ukrainian child had this specific "abetka"(alphabet) book with rhymes to every letter. the "а-ба-ба-га-ла-ма-га" publishing house never fails with their illustrations.

also probably the most popular children's books are the ones by vsevolod nestayko, eg "toreadors from vasyukivka" and "wonderful adventures in the forest school".

about games and toys, i honestly can't recall any ukraine specific ones except "this thing but slavic!" (monopoly ukraine, stuff like that). motanka dolls count as an original toy. out of computer games, maybe the most popular one at the time - "stalker: shadow of chornobyl"? some irony in that. real life games tho? the only difference between the games of tag and kvach is the name. "сossacks and bandits" maybe... there's a bl comic with the same name btw, and i also think that's the only place where you can find the rules for it in english lol. or google translate the wikipedia page.

misha lived by the sea, so he probably played a lot of games on water, other than that - all the same things american kids experience. generally my main advise when thinking about misha's childhood is to remember he had all the same things people in uranium did, excluding canada specific media. after auntie owl's lessons came ninja turtles, and after eating flint bread chips it was only natural to sip coca cola.

also i can advise to just look up "ukraine nostalgia"/"дитинство ностальгія" on tiktok. half the time it will be uncomprehensive stuff, and the other half might be something that'd help shape the view of what it was like. this is an invitation to ask more specific things and also for my ukrainian mutuals to add on because i only scratched the surface. hope it was useful or somewhat interesting xd

#i linked the stuff i could find in english #ride the cyclone #misha not mischa #misha bachynskyi #rtc #talya bolinska #talia bolinska #talya rtc #talia rtc #misha rtc

43 notes · View notes

loquarocoeur · 1 year ago

Text

Loquarocoeur info:

Firstly: Obligatory mature content warning

Hi, my name is Alex

Alternatively I am also referred to as loquarocoeur, loq, loquacker, loquawhatever, or other varieties of my username, and when I deserve it I will also accept several insults

I do have other interests, but this is mostly an F1 blog

You probably know me from my Ao3 (Probably Yours Verse or Casual)

I think I'm mainly known as that insane Lestappen bottom Max/top Charles enthusiast, otherwise also a Landoscar enjoyer who lied about how much angst there would be in Casual (sorry again)

Lestappen complete masterlist here

Landoscar complete masterlist here

I am also a full time student with a busy life, so when the ask box is randomly off, I don't hate you, I'm just busy<3

I don't do much on here except answer asks, which sometimes turn into discussions, mainly yours verse

Other tags are not important, they're mainly for my personal organisation

FAQs under the cut:

FAQs:

What is that keyboard smash of a username?

My username is first and foremost stupid, secondly too old to change, and thirdly a silly mashup of the words loquacious (talkative) and coeur (heart in French)

Are you not answering my ask because I'm being annoying/rude/upsetting?

My ask box has occasionally gotten very busy, sometimes I miss asks, accidentally delete them, sometimes tumblr eats them, sometimes I forget about them until it's too late for it not to be weird, sometimes I'm just very busy or having another discussion and will get back to you. Occasionally I have a lot to yap about with you and need a while to gather my thoughts If you're being rude, hateful, or annoying I will absolutely also delete your asks, but this is very rare, don't worry about it I also might ignore asks about drama, I don't like arguing with anonymous askers about drama in the fandom, I value my peace and happiness and am not making internet enemies, so I prefer to rant about my opinions to my irl friends or my mutuals

Do you make banner posts or announcement posts when you post fics?

No, sorry, I'm lazy. Maybe I will do some arts and crafts if I write another long fic, but my home is ao3, tumblr is just where I yap, I'm not here to make work for myself I think you guys get ao3 emails if you subscribe to my account or a series? idk. Otherwise you'll hear about it in the asks probably

Do you accept requests?

No, but I'm always open to ideas, questions, and inspiration and I'll negotiate art for fic with mutuals if it comes up

#lestappen #landoscar #f1 #masterpost #fic links #loq fic

146 notes · View notes

sephirthoughts · 6 months ago

Text

First Soldier

it's a double entendre i'm hilarious shut up

this is a glennseph one-shot i've been threatening to post for a while but didn't get around to. it's extremely explicit and sephiroth is a teenager so obligatory disclaimer ahoy:

ALL CHARACTERS HAVE REACHED SEXUAL MATURITY AND ARE ABOVE THE LEGAL AGE OF CONSENT IN THEIR COUNTRIES OF ORIGIN

fucking fight me you little puritan fucks

SUMMARY: big dumb puppy glenn pets the hissy little kitty but instead of getting clawed, the hissy little kitty rubs against him and purrs NOTE: did everyone know glenn is only 23 during first soldier? twenty-fucking-three!!! he must have the cid highwind premature weathered old man gene cause damn TAGS: sephiroth x glenn lodbrok, sephglenn, cute smut, fluffy smut, no plot, pwp, etc. WARNINGS: dead dove, don't like don't read, grown-folks content, no minors allowed, minors DNI, etc.

“Out here, the only way to survive is to kill them before they kill you,” he said, forcing back the tears that were burning in his eyes.

Glenn advanced on him. Towering and almost menacing, it seemed, to the teenaged boy. Sephiroth steeled himself. He didn’t want to hurt Glenn, but he was at his breaking point, and if the man wanted to make this physical, he’d regret—

All of a sudden, Glenn’s arms encircled him, and he found himself being squeezed tightly, with his face buried in a big, broad chest.

His senses were flooded by Glenn’s earthy, masculine scent and the firm pressure of his arms, holding Sephiroth against the sturdy, solid warmth of his body.

Sephiroth crashed to desktop, like one of those old computer programs, in the SOLDIER testing center.

He wasn’t that ignorant. He’d seen people hug one another, before. It was just that no one had ever done it to him. No one would have dared to invade the little monster’s personal space, except Professor Hojo. And Hojo only touched him to test his pain thresholds.

On the heels of his initial bewilderment, his indignation flared up, white-hot. Physical touch was a method of pacifying infants and children, who were too young to respond to reason.

Did Glenn think of him as a brainless infant, that needed that kind of soothing? Was this another demonstration of disrespect, because of his age and inexperience?

The man’s next words thoroughly defused the boy’s rising anger, though.

“You’re right,” Glenn said. His deep voice vibrated in his chest, and tickled Sephiroth’s ear. “Out here it’s life or death.”

When the man released him, he was in a daze, hardly able to process what had happened. All he wanted to do was to grab hold of him and bury himself in his warmth and his scent and never, ever let go.

No. That was something a baby would do. Sephiroth had been very clearly instructed that he was to conduct himself with the dignity incumbent upon him as a man, a SOLDIER, and Shinra’s representative in the field.

“But Sephiroth, you don’t have anything to prove,” Glenn continued. “We know how strong you are. Maybe you could show some compassion. I know you’ve got it in you.”

He clenched his teeth and fought it as hard as he could, but a tear escaped down his cheek. It was unseen by the others, however, because Glenn was standing between them, like a shield.

“I’m not a cyborg.”

Those arms enfolded him again, a gently crushing pressure on his tense-up body. Glenn’s voice was hoarse, with uncharacteristic emotion. “I know. I’m really sorry I said that.”

“I…I never wanted to be…” he mumbled, into Glenn’s coat, trailing off before finishing his sentence, because he was still trying not to cry.

“I know. I know,” Glenn said, then gave a strangled sounding grunt, as the boy’s arms constricted around him, like steel pythons. “Seph could you—hngh. Can’t…breathe.”

“Oh. S—sorry,” Sephiroth said, hastily letting go. “I forgot how fragile you are.”

He’d meant that in complete earnest, but Matt and Lucia burst out laughing, like it was the best joke of all time. Their laughter made Sephiroth feel warm and pleased, and he laughed as well. Glenn snarled and scowled and stomped around a little, but he wasn’t really angry, and no one was afraid of him, anyway.

The team was in better spirits, when they sat by the campfire, that evening. Sephiroth had his jacket off, so Lucia could patch up his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to tell her it was unnecessary and he’d be good as new before he went to bed, so he just politely accepted her help.

Meanwhile, his sleeveless, black thermal left little of his leanly muscled torso to the imagination, and both Glenn and Matt commented admiringly on his physique.

“When I was your age, I was a scrawny little fucker,” Glenn reminisced. “Had a growth spurt around seventeen. Shot up like a tree. What about you, Matt? You have your growth spurt, yet?”

“Oh, you’re so funny,” Matt returned, tossing a bit of biscuit at him. “I’d rather have brains than brawn, anyway.”

“I never met a problem I can’t punch my way out of, professor smartass,” Glenn said, puffing his chest out.

Sephiroth was eyeing the large man enviously. “The professor says I’ll grow very quickly, in the next several years. I wonder if I’ll ever be as tall as you.”

“Even if you’re not, there’s nothin’ wrong with that. I’m a pretty big dude.”

“Mm-hm, with a mouth to match,” Lucia interjected, at which Matt laughed. “Alright, I did my best,” she said, closing the med kit. “Not pretty, but your healing factor is so fast. You’ll probably be good as new by morning.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth replied, earning a ruffle of his hair from the young woman.

“Anything for a handsome gentleman, like you,” Lucia smiled. “I’m gonna turn in. Don’t keep the commander up all night, Glenn.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t,” Glenn said waving her away.

“Goodnight, Ms. Lucia,” Sephiroth said politely.

“Night fellas.”

When she’d gone off to her tent, Glenn bumped Sephiroth with his shoulder and gave him a knowing wink, and Matt chuckled over the rim of his canteen. Glenn looking at him like that made Sephiroth’s cheeks flush, which just made the two older men laugh even harder.

This was the third or fourth time something like this had occurred. He wasn’t actually sure what their raillery meant, but he knew it had to do with Lucia, and that he was supposed to understand, somehow.

He didn’t want to be called a cyborg, again, so he usually kept his mouth shut and just let them have their joke (well, Glenn’s joke. Matt only ever laughed along). But Glenn hugging him, earlier, and apologizing for the cyborg comment emboldened him, this time.

“Why do you two laugh and look at me that way, when I talk to Ms. Lucia?” he asked.

Glenn squinted an eye. “What, you really don’t know? Young man your age?”

“Don’t know what?” Sephiroth asked, looking back and forth between them.

“That’s my cue to turn in,” Matt said, getting up from his spot, across the fire. “You two have a nice talk.”

“Well, Seph, my friend, it’s like this,” Glenn said sagely, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulders, as Matt retreated. “There’s birds, you know? And bees. And those all have…something to do with spring. Spring is the time for, uh. Well, when two people—”

“I know about sexual reproduction, Glenn,” Sephiroth said flatly. “My education has been very thorough. What does that have to do with you teasing me about Ms. Lucia?”

Glenn withdrew his arm and scratched his head, awkwardly. “Ah, well. You’re a healthy young man, ya know? And she’s a very pretty girl.”

“Is she?”

“Sure. You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“It would be inappropriate for me to judge my teammates, based on appearance.”

“Yeah, of course. But for real, though. Don’t you like her?”

Sephiroth considered this gravely. “Ms. Lucia is a strong and competent person, and she goes out of her way to be kind to me. I suppose I like her, yes.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I mean like…the kind of ‘like’ where you want her to hold your hand.”

Sephiroth looked down at his hands, then up at Glenn, perplexed. “Hold my hand? For what reason?”

“Just…hold it. Like, the way people do, when they like each other. You know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Wow. How the hell do I explain this.”

“Why don’t you just show me what you mean,” Sephiroth suggested.

“W—well, I…ok. Just to show ya.” Glenn crossed his wrist over Sephiroth’s on the smooth log, between them, and pressed his palm to his, then laced their fingers together. “See? Like that. Nothin’ to it.”

Sephiroth found himself unable to reply. His mouth had gone suddenly dry, and he could judge how pink his face probably was by how hot his cheeks felt. He kept his head down and nodded faintly.

When he felt Glenn’s grip begin to loosen, he unconsciously tightened his own. Glenn stiffened. But he didn’t pull his hand away. Neither did Sephiroth. Several long beats passed.

By then, it was far too late to pretend it was an accident. They were both too embarrassed to look at one another, though, so they just sat silently like that, hand in hand, staring at the low-burning embers of the fire.

Sephiroth’s body was outwardly calm, but his mind was racing, frantically attempting to explain this sensation to himself. It was a completely new and alien feeling, this holding hands. It seemed like a pointless gesture, but there were all sorts of unexpected physiological reactions attached to it. Mostly turbid and confusing emotions, along with a heavy dose of shame, at reacting so strongly to something so trivial. He didn’t hate it, though.

After a while, he dared a sidelong glance at Glenn. “What else do people do, when they like each other?”

Even in profile, by firelight, he could see the color in Glenn’s cheeks. “Well, they, uh. They hug and uh…k—kiss. Things like that.”

Sephiroth looked down at their interlaced fingers, and seemed to have realized something. His blue-green eyes widened. “You hugged me. And you’re holding my hand.”

“Uh—ahem. Mm-hm.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Do you…want me to?”’

“I don’t know.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully. “I liked when you hugged me, and I like holding hands. I think…yes. I’d like for you to kiss me.”

Glenn glanced down at Sephiroth then quickly away.

“Fuck,” he muttered, passing a hand over his forehead. “Fuck it. I’m already goin’ to hell, why not punch an express ticket.”

Releasing Sephiroth’s hand, he coiled his arm about his waist and leaned close, tilted his head slightly, then ever so gently pressed his smooth, firm lips to Sephiroth’s.

Sephiroth’s heart lurched and ran ragged. Reflexively, he reached out and grabbed Glenn’s collar. He didn’t know what else to do

“Open your mouth a little,” Glenn whispered, breath warm against his lips. His low, rough voice sent goosebumps up the back of Sephiroth’s neck. “Just follow my lead. Try to do what I do.”

Sephiroth let his jaw slacken and Glenn’s lips pushed his apart. When Glenn’s tongue slid forward into his mouth, he was too stunned to respond, for a full ten seconds, then he recalled Glenn saying he should follow his lead.

Sephiroth pushed his tongue forward and tried to mimic Glenn’s actions. It was clumsy and awkward, but when his tongue crossed the barrier of his teeth, and touched Glenn’s, he couldn’t help giving a soft little groan. Glenn hummed in his throat and pulled him closer.

Sephiroth’s ears were burning hot and his stomach was doing dizzy flip-flops, like he was coming down with a fever and an inner-ear infection, and yet…this was the best thing he had ever felt. The best thing he’d ever imagined feeling. He wanted to do this and nothing else, from now on.

He learned extremely quickly, and before long, his tongue went from tentative and uncertain, to hungry and demanding, pushing forward and chasing Glenn’s.

“Whoa, slow down there, cowboy,” Glenn said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. “Anything past this, and I’m in serious shit. Actually, if you decide to tell anyone, I’m in serious shit, anyway.”

The boy’s catlike pupils were blown wide and round, in his blue-green irises. “Why would I tell anyone? Come back, I want to kiss more.”

“Probably ain’t a good idea to do this out here, in the open.”

“Where?”

Glenn glanced around and then stood up, jerking his head toward the little clearing, where he had his tent, a dozen meters away. Sephiroth nodded and followed.

Inside the tent, they took off their boots and coats, and Glenn spread out his sleeping bag, so they could both lie on it. Sephiroth hardly gave him time to lie down before he was pulling and tugging at his clothes.

“Hang on,” Glenn said. “Couple things. I got more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I know everything. You gotta tell me to stop, the minute you don’t like something, ok? I won’t be mad or anything, you just gotta say it.”

“I promise,” Sephiroth replied solemnly. “I’ll tell you as soon as I don’t like it.”

Then Glenn took the boy in his arms, tangling their bodies together, while their tongues caressed, sloppy and urgent, till they were both flushed hot and panting. Glenn peeled off his thermal undershirt, then helped Sephiroth pull his off, over his head.

When he compared his smooth, slender, milk-white chest to Glenn’s—hairy, suntanned, and heavily muscled—he wanted to reach out and touch it.

As if he’d read his mind, Glenn grabbed Sephiroth’s hand and put it on his chest. “Go ahead and touch me. I don’t bite.”

Sephiroth hesitated, then gave free rein to his curiosity, playing with Glenn’s curly, golden-blonde chest hair, cupping his big pectoral muscles, and sliding his hands up and down his solid torso. He liked the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and the trail of hair leading down from his navel into his waistband.

When he noticed the big, oblong bulge of Glenn’s penis, through his trousers, he blushed crimson and looked quickly away, which made Glenn chuckle. Not liking to be laughed at, Sephiroth set his jaw defiantly and put his hand on the bulge, squeezing it through the fabric.

Glenn laid his hand overtop of Sephiroth's and slid it up and down the thick shaft. To his astonishment, his own responded, beginning to swell and thicken inside his tight underwear.

Sephiroth had never had a reaction to any person’s body, male or female. He’d only ever felt something happening down there, when he was required to give semen samples, in the lab.

The device used to collect the samples induced erection and stimulated him to ejaculation, without his participation. This was the first time he’d become erect on his own, aside from the normal, autonomic erections, when he’d first wake in the morning.

Those didn’t feel like this. Those he ignored and they went away, usually before he’d finished brushing his teeth. This was like an itch but deeper and more maddening. His penis was rigid and aching, and he could feel a wet spot forming in his underwear. He had to force back the urge to push it against Glenn, while they laid together, kissing and groping each other’s bodies.

Glenn saved him the trouble, when he grabbed his ass and rocked his pelvis, grinding his much bigger shaft against Sephiroth’s.

“Hm—ah,” Sephiroth panted. “I want…I want…”

Glenn’s breath was hot and wet on his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“You want to fuck?”

Sephiroth’s body tensed with mild panic. “W—what? What do you—how can we…we’re both men.”

“Sorry, that wasn’t nice of me,” Glenn said, grinning sheepishly. “I was just messing around. I kind of wanted to see your reaction.”

Silver eyebrows lowered and pouting lips were pursed. “No, you wanted to gauge my reaction, without committing to anything. Now, tell me what you mean. Can two men really…do that, together?”

So deftly hoisted by his own petard, Glenn was at a loss, and became embarrassed. “Uh…um. Well, yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a lot of ways. You can use your hands or your mouths, or—”

“Mouths?” Sephiroth said, incredulous.

“Yep. You can even put it in the, uh. The back.”

“In the…” Sephiroth’s eyes went wide. “But why?”

“Because sex feels good? Why else?”

Sephiroth was thunderstruck. He’d only been taught about copulation between a male and female, so far as it related to reproduction. He’d never imagined that men would want to do this, with one another, when it served no biological purpose. No. He couldn’t see it. Glenn must be messing with him again.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are you suggesting that it feels good, to have an erect penis inserted into your anus?”

“If it didn’t, millions of guys wouldn’t do it.”

“But it’s so small,” Sephiroth argued. “How does it…go in?”

“Lube and patience,” Glenn said flippantly, then cleared his throat. “It’s not that complicated. It’s very…stretchy, down there. You use a lot of lubrication and you put your fingers inside, first, to loosen it up. Once it’s stretched out and slippery, you can…you know. Go in.”

“And that feels good?”

“I mean, it hurts, if you’re not careful. Especially the first time. But yeah.”

“How?”

“There’s a shitload of nerves back there. Plus, the um. The guy’s dick rubs against your prostate, inside. It feels good, and you can even come that way.”

“Come?”

“E—ejaculate.”

This was an overload of information, for Sephiroth. The whole thing was too bizarre to imagine. Except that he suddenly did imagine it. Glenn on top of him, pushing his big, hard penis—wait, Glenn said dick, so he should say it that way—pushing his big, hard dick into him.

His head got hot suddenly, and his own dick throbbed with desire. He laid both hands on his cheeks, to cool off his overheated face, while he processed all of this.

After a few minutes, Glenn nudged him. “Seph? You ok?”

“Hm?”

“You ok? You zoned out.”

“I—I’m ok. This is a lot to think about.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out. I had no idea you didn’t know this stuff. You said you’d had sex-ed, before.”

“I did, as related to biological reproduction. No one ever told me the…other things.”

Glenn looked awkward. “Ah.”

“Have you done it?”

“Huh? Done which?”

“Have you had sex with another man?”

“Well, yeah. I’m gay, so…”

“Gay?”

“Homosexual. That means I only have those feelings for men, and I don’t like women that way.”

“Oh.” Sephiroth frowned thoughtfully.

“What’s that look? What are you thinking about, now?”

“I think I’m also gay.”

“Oh yeah?” Glenn smirked.

Sephiroth nodded. “I tried to imagine doing the things I’ve done with you, tonight, with a woman, and the idea was repulsive. But I liked doing them with you. So, I must be gay.”

“I guess…I can’t argue with your logic. It just, uh. It seems a little quick for you to make such a big decision.”

“No, I’m sure,” Sephiroth said firmly. “I’m gay. I want to have sex with other men, and not women.”

“Well, um. Congratulations on your self-discovery.”

“Glenn, I want to have sex with you. The way you said. I want you to put your dick in—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hang on. You just went from virgin who’s never even heard of being gay, to full-on put your dick in me mode, in ten seconds, flat. That’s way too fast, Seph.”

“How long did you wait, to have sex? After you realized you were gay?” Sephiroth challenged.

Glenn’s face went a little pink. “I’m not a good example. I was a rebellious kid and I lost my virginity pretty young.”

“How old were you?”

“Fourteen.”

“I’m fifteen. Why can you decide what you want, at fourteen, but I can’t at fifteen?”

“It’s not that, it’s…there’s more to sex than just the mechanics. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. I see.” Sephiroth lowered his head dejectedly. “It’s that you don’t want to do it with me.”

“No, no—don’t get all sad like that. You’re…fuck. You’re so gorgeous I can hardly believe you’re real. But you’re still just a kid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Sephiroth lifted his chin, haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me, even if you did want to. I’m many times stronger than you.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” Glenn chuckled.

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So do it, with me.”

Glenn wavered, but he knew he was already a lost cause. Here was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes on in all his twenty-three years, basically begging him for it. He was in no way equipped to handle this kind of temptation.

After some admittedly muddle-headed self justification, he grabbed the med kit and dug out a tube of surgical lubricant.

“Ok. Ok. I'm ready. Let's do it.”

“Shouldn't we take off the rest of our clothes, first?” Sephiroth pointed out.

“...”

The process of two people undressing in a one-person tent was awkward and unsexy, and the less said about it, the better. One way or another, they managed to get naked together.

Glenn felt like he was drunk or dreaming, mind sluggish and hazy with lust, kissing his way down this silky, seraphic body, pushing apart a pair of slender thighs.

“Hold your legs up, for me.”

Sephiroth pulled his knees up, making a face. “I feel stupid, in this position.”

“You don’t look stupid,” Glenn murmured, as he slicked his fingers with the surgical lube. “You look amazing. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Sephiroth grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, as Glenn’s finger pushed slowly in, through the resistant ring of muscle. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it didn’t feel very good, either. Glenn took his dick in his other hand. Sephiroth gasped and jolted, as his hot mouth closed around the head.

“G—Glenn!” he sputtered. “What are you…ha...ah!”

His protests unraveled into incoherent jumble, as Glenn took him all the way to the back of his throat. His big, calloused finger was still sliding in and out, and when it started pressing on something inside, Sephiroth had to bite into his forearm, to stifle his moans. It was like hot bolts of aching lightning, pulsing through his gut, into his balls, whenever Glenn’s finger prodded him there.

Glenn pulled off to look up at him, but he kept stroking it with his hand. His dick was leaking so much clear fluid, that it ran down Glenns knuckles. When he pushed a second finger inside, sephiroth choked and went quiet, but Glenn felt his insides clamping down tightly on his fingers.

“That’s it, baby, give it to me,” he breathed, watching the boy’s face, with heavy lidded eyes. “Good boy.”

“Hngh—ungh! Glenn! F—fuck!” Sephiroth’s first curse word came tumbling out of his mouth, as the aching tension wound to a peak and snapped. His narrow hips jerked and his dick convulsed, spurting viscous, milky-white, all over Glenn’s hand, as well as Sephiroth’s stomach and chest. His insides squeezed and contracted on Glenn’s fingers, as he massaged him through the spasms, milking out every drop.

Glenn was so hard by now, the head of his dick looked swollen and purple, and ropy veins stood out all over the thick shaft. His balls were heavy and tight, high up against the base, aching for release. He squeezed out some more lubricant slicked it, generously.

“Seph, I’m gonna put it in, now. Ok?”

“Mn…mm-hm.” Sephiroth nodded.

With one hand on the back of the boy’s thigh, Glenn guided his dick with the other, to press the big, blunt head to the tautly puckered, pale-pink hole. Goddess, even lubed and stretched, the kid was as tight as a drum. Glenn pushed harder against the resistance and the head suddenly popped through.

“Ah! It h—it hurts!” Sephiroth sputtered, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby,” Glenn hummed. “Just breathe and focus on relaxing. If you stay tensed up, it’ll hurt more.”

“O—ok,” the boy sniffled.

He was looking up at him with those big, beautiful eyes, half-lidded and pink around the rims, his lips wet and parted, and tears trickling down his temples. It took all of Glenn’s self-control not to plunge in even more vigorously.

With heroic resolve, he breathed slowly and forced himself to be patient. Easing in just a little at a time, paying attention to the boy’s whimpers and groans, watching his face screw up with pain, and relax again. His pale chest heaving, with his ragged breaths. The divine, velvety heat inside him, slowly, ever so gradually accepting his cock.

“That’s it,” he said hoarsely. “I’m all the way inside. You took it all.”

Sephiroth craned his neck to look at where their bodies were joined. Where Glenn's big, ruddy tree-trunk was stuck into his slender, white ass. His cheeks and chest were flushed pink and his body was trembling, perspiration beading on his forehead.

“D—don’t move yet,” he stammered. “I’m not ready.”

“I won’t. Just breathe, baby.”

Glenn laid over him, kissing his lips and smoothing his hair back. Sephiroth’s muscles began to slacken, as his body acclimated to penetration, and his breathing became more normal. Keeping his pelvis flush against his ass, Glenn began to rock his hips gently, letting the boy get used to feeling a dick inside him, without the stress of him thrusting.

Glenn withdrew a little and pushed back in. “That feel ok?”

“Mm…ah. More. Give me more,” the boy slurred out, arching his spine.

Looking him steadily in the eye, Glenn began to slide out and rock back in, at a slow, gentle pace, pushing his achingly hard dick into the most divine body he’d ever touched. The boy’s velvety-hot hole resisted tightly as he pushed in, and sucked deliciously when he pulled out, till he was dizzy and euphoric, drunk on the absolute exquisite pleasure of fucking this angelic boy.

A bizarre, aggressive instinct surged suddenly, inside him. He wanted to nail Sephiroth down, split him open, fuck him so hard he’d cry and beg for mercy. He wanted to pump him full of his seed, till it swelled his belly and came out of his mouth and nose. He’d never felt such a violent urge to dominate and possess any other partner.

He heard sephiroth whimpering and realized he’d been fucking him harder than he intended to. But even after he was aware of it, he found he couldn’t do anything about it. It was like he was possessed, by some beast in rut.

“Sorry, Seph,” he rasped. “I c—I can’t stop.”

He pushed his knees up to his armpits and laid into him, with ruthless energy. Sephiroth’s wet-kitten mewls only made Glenn’s burning desire blaze up even hotter. He held him down and kept thrusting, harder and harder, digging into him with his furiously hard cock, like he was trying to kill them both.

His heart was thudding like a jackhammer and his muscles were on fire, sweat pouring down his chest and dripping from his chin, but he couldn’t come. He felt his dick swelling, getting harder and hotter, and his balls ached, so full and tight they felt like overripe melons, as they slapped heavily against the boy’s ass, but something was denying him release, holding him on the bleeding edge of orgasm.

He groaned, as the tension wound and twisted to impossible tautness in his gut. “I need to—I need to come! Please! Let me come!!”

He didn’t know who he was pleading to. The boy wasn’t stopping him, he was the one being brutally hammered by a maniac.

“Do it,” Sephiroth panted. “C—come inside me.”

The pressure exploded like a bomb.

“Haaa! Fuck! Ffffuuuck!” Glenn bit hard into Sephiroth’s neck, to muffle his hoarse cries, as his balls unloaded the longest, most excruciating, soul-drainingly intense orgasm of his life. He came so hard, he saw stars, feeling each individual spasm, as his dick forcefully expelled long, aching bursts of slippery-hot seed, filling the boy up and spilling out, around his shaft. Still, he kept thrusting convulsively, fucking every last drop into this perfect hole.

Half out of his senses, shaking and drenched with sweat, he collapsed on top of Sephiroth and immediately blacked out.

—

“Glenn…” a voice said, from somewhere far above his head.

“Hm?” he grunted, without opening his eyes.

“Glenn,” it called again, clearer and louder. “Glenn!”

Oh, shit, it was Lucia’s voice! Lucia was going to find him and Sephiroth!

Glenn sat bolt-upright, in a panic, disoriented and temporarily blinded by the sunlight pouring in through the putty-colored canvas of his tent.

Wait…huh? He blinked blearily around, as his eyes adjusted. He was alone, in his sleeping bag, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

“Glenn!” Lucia shouted. “Wake up, asshole!”

“I’m up, I’m up,” he called back, in his gravelly, sleep-rough voice. “Quit yelling, will ya?”

“If you answered the first ten times, I wouldn’t have to,” she retorted, giving the canvas a slap. “Hurry up and get dressed. Sephiroth caught some fish for breakfast.”

“Sephiroth can fish?”

She didn’t hear him, or more likely, didn’t care to deal with him anymore, and her footsteps went crunching away. Meanwhile, Glenn was searching his tent and person for evidence of nighttime activities, but there was none to be found. He was fully clothed, and his boots were neatly placed just inside the tent flap. His underwear, however, were soaked.

He got up and wriggled out of his pants, then peeled off the sticky undergarment. Holy shit. He never came this much, even when he was conscious. He was almost impressed.

That confirmed it, then. It was all a dream. He hadn’t lost his goddamn mind and fucked his teenaged commander till he passed out, last night.

Relief so potent he nearly teared up washed over him. At the same time, there was a tiny pinprick of bitterness, in it. A faint feeling of loss, he couldn’t quite quantify. He ignored it and shook himself back to reality.

How fucking wild was that? He’d never had such an intense and vivid dream, in his life, sexual or otherwise. He could still taste the boy on his tongue and smell his warm, musky scent. He could still hear his whimpering moans, when he—oops, shit.

He stopped thinking about that immediately, and used some pre-packaged bathing cloths, to clean himself up, before hastily getting dressed and heading over to the campfire.

Matt and Lucia were seated on the driftwood logs, drinking coffee from tin mugs, and Sephiroth was tending to some fat, juicy fish, he’d skewered on sticks, and was cooking over the fire.

“Morning, Glenn,” the boy greeted cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“Hell yeah. Smells delicious,” Glenn said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “You caught all these?”

“Mn,” Sephiroth nodded. “I was up early, so I thought I’d take care of breakfast.”

“Well now, that’s downright decent of you. Hey, can I get some of that coffee?”

“Kettle’s right there,” Matt said. “It’s just instant packets, from the MREs.”

“How early did you get up, anyway, Sephiroth?” Lucia asked, offhandedly, as she passed Glenn a mug. “I was out at sunrise, to report in, but I didn’t see you, anywhere.”

Glenn felt an ominous prickle on the back of his neck, but Sephiroth answered naturally, without a hint of anything off, in his manner.

“I went out before that. Fishing is easiest just before dawn and just after sunset,” he explained, turning the sizzling skewers over the coals. “Fish have poor eyesight, but strong shadows can scare them away. Plus, most of the insects they prey upon are crepuscular.”

“Well, that explains why I never catch anything,” Lucia grumbled. “Who wants to be out fishing at the crack of dawn?”

“You’ll never be a pro-angler, with that attitude,” Glenn chided.

“There goes your fallback career,” Matt put in.

When the fish were done, Sephiroth handed them out, as-is, since the skewers obviated the need for plates or flatware. Then he took his own and sat beside Glenn on the log.

Glenn couldn’t help leaning back a little and surreptitiously inspecting the boy’s neck. In the dream, he had bit the kid hard enough that there’d be bruises for weeks, but it was smooth and white, and there was no hint of a mark.

“What are you looking at?” Sephiroth frowned (guess he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought). “Is there an insect on me?”

“Hm? Oh—uh. I thought there was but…it was nothing,” Glenn said awkwardly. “Thanks for the fish. Really, really good.”

“I wanted to do something, to thank you all for being so patient with me. Breakfast is the least I could do.”

Matt and Lucia chimed in with their accolades, and Sephiroth practically beamed, unable to conceal how pleased all the praise made him.

“Oh, and Glenn, I wanted to especially thank you, for last night.”

Glenn choked on his bite of fish. “W—uh. For—for last…for what?”

“Our conversation. It was very educational, so thank you.”

“R—right. No problem,” Glenn said miserably.

When breakfast was over, the group dispersed, to pack up their gear. Glenn was relieved to have a minute alone, to get himself together. He was so worked up, his head was spinning. He really had to stop eating whatever weird fruit he happened to find, on this island. These intense dreams were not good for his stress levels.

He was rolling up his sleeping bag, when he froze, and his face drained of color. There, on his pillow, was a single, long, silver hair.

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

was it a dream or not?? you tell me!

26 notes · View notes