yo, if you're still taking writing prompts, how about something beach related? hanging out at morning glory or anywhere else, i just wanna see daigo complain about the sun or the sand or whatever ^^
oohhh yes! the weather here has been very nice lately, and has me wanting to make a seaside retreat, so this is wonderful
prepare for the silly though lmao
and an ao3 link too~
“You alive?”
Daigo groaned, tilting the baseball cap covering his eyes back, squinting up at Shinada, who thankfully was hovering over him in such a way he blocked out the sun.
“Barely,” he groaned, letting his head slump back onto the beach towel, “It’s so warm…”
“Well, yeah…”
Shinada fell to sit down next to him, smiling softly. “The least you could do is not look like something that washed ashore.”
“That’s what happened to Saejima…”
Daigo groaned again, forcing himself to sit up and rubbing the back of his neck. This vacation to Okinawa was supposed to be relaxing. He desperately needed it after the last…everything in his life.
But he’d forgotten one important thing – he fucking hated the heat.
Within five minutes of arriving at Morning Glory, he managed to scrounge an elastic from Haruka, scraping his long hair into a tiny ponytail in an attempt to keep it off his neck.
Now, on the beach, he could only relax hiding under a parasol, sprawled out on his back and trying not to move much, whilst everyone else was having so much more fun.
“Take your shirt off, it might help,” Shinada said, flicking at the collar of Daigo’s dark grey button up.
Noticing his boyfriend’s scrunched up expression, he sighed a little, nodding. “Nobody’s gonna care about your tattoo here, Daigo-kun. This beach is private.”
“Yeah, I know but…” Daigo let out a dismissive breath, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’m not used to going topless in public, am I?”
“Still…”
Shinada leaned in, undoing the top few buttons of the shirt, a small smirk growing on his lips. “It won’t kill you to be a little less stiff, huh?”
Noticing the red flush on Daigo’s cheeks change from overheating to bashfulness, he smirked more, giving a quick kiss there.
“Isn’t that the whole point of this holiday?”
“Well, the main point really was to visit Haruka and be a good big brother.” Daigo paused for a moment and scowled, taking in what Shinada had actually said. “I am not stiff.”
“Yeah you are,” Shinada chuckled, “Like a corpse. Which is what you looked like laying out on the sand.”
Daigo let out a grumble, trying to pull away, but was simply dragged back into Shinada’s hold, being peppered with kisses along his neck.
“You’re not at Tojo HQ any more babe,” Shinada said, cupping Daigo’s cheek, “No need to keep up the act. You can relax.”
Daigo glanced over Shinada’s shoulder, glad to see nobody else was watching. He loved affection, especially the kind Shinada gave, but public displays of it made him a little queasy. Not that he was going to face much judgment around here.
“I’m trying,” he said, giving his own kiss to Shinada’s cheek, “It’s hard, okay?”
Shinada stuck his tongue out ever so slightly in thought, letting out a small hmm, before baring his teeth in a grin that made Daigo’s stomach drop a little.
“I can help with that!”
“Uh, Tatsuo, my love-“
Before Daigo could finish, Shinada had scooped him up into a bridal hold with little effort and was racing down the beach. Daigo yelped, slapping his boyfriend’s chest repeatedly and trying to get out before-
SPLASH!
Daigo hit the water hard once he was thrown, head dunking under the waves. He luckily had enough time to scrunch his eyes shut, but still resurfaced spluttering ocean water down his chest.
His face went completely red as everyone started laughing, no one lounder than Shinada who was practically doubled over near the shore as he cackled.
“You little-“
Daigo was on his feet again, dripping wet. With surprising speed, he raced over to grab Shinada, wrapping his arms around his middle and lifting him up. It was his turn to yelp, as Daigo dragged him backwards and dunked him under the waves.
Shinada quickly dove up for air, shaking his hair about then grinning at Daigo.
“There we go! Less stiff now Daigo-kun?”
Daigo, slumped in the shallows next to him, replied by sticking his tongue out and splashing him in the face. This led to Shinada returning the splash, until they were just sending water spraying at the other.
“Having fun boys?” Haruka called over, unable to stop laughing.
“I think so!” Daigo cried, which earned him another mouthful of salt water.
He raised a hand in a timeout gesture, standing up to unbutton his shirt completely and lobbing the damp mass of fabric to the sand. Shinada smiled, standing up as well and gesturing his head further out.
“There’s this little alcove I spotted,” he said in Daigo’s ear, squeezing his hand, “It’s real pretty.”
“We are not fucking on the beach,” Daigo said dryly, raising a brow, “My nephew is like, right there.”
“…for once, that wasn’t where my mind was. C’mon, let’s just go for a swim already.”
Ooh, prompts, you ask? I'd love to see more from your AU with Daigo as a vampire! Otherwise maybe something fluffy like Daigo using Shinada as a pillow?
I actually have a vampire!Daigo WIP going already, you may be pleased to hear, so I went with the pillow one because any excuse for some soft snuggle time ❤
also posted this over on ao3~
Sometimes when they met up for drinks at New Serena, Saejima would tell a story about how his cat curled up asleep on his lap and how he then couldn’t move from that spot, save disturbing her. Shinada thought it sounded ridiculous – why didn’t you just move?
But he got it now. Not in the same way but…he got it.
He’d been taking a mid-day nap, worn out from a quick succession of working out, a heavy lunch and the early summer heat. He sprawled out on the bed, drifting off to the faint sound of Daigo’s music coming through from the office.
When he woke up maybe an hour later, he was immediately aware of a weight pushing down on him. Blearily, he rubbed his eyes and looked down, immediately bursting into a grin. There was Daigo, slumped over him with his face buried against his stomach, fast asleep himself.
Shinada reached out, gently stroking over Daigo’s hair, causing his boyfriend to grumble and squirm a little. He swiped a hand lazily, maybe thinking it was a fly or something, before his arm slumped over Shinada’s chest.
“Crap, you’re cute,” he mumbled, resting his own hand against Daigo’s back. Too bad I gotta move…promised I’d go to the store…
Shinada pulled a face, trying to slip away, moving his hand to Daigo’s shoulder in an attempt to ease him off, but was met with resistance. Daigo gripped onto his shirt, brow furrowing as he wiggled further up, his face now resting between his pecs.
Shinada tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. Well, that didn’t work. Glancing back down, he couldn’t help smile again at how…peaceful Daigo looked.
Daigo always struggled with sleeping, where work made him stay in late and get up early, his rest was mostly fitful. He powered through, drinking far too much canned coffee to stay away but…fuck would Shinada feel like a dick waking him up now.
BEEP-BEEP.
Shinada glared across at his phone on the bedside table. He had to combat his laziness somehow, and setting several alarms and reminders throughout the day helped keep him on a schedule. But of course one had to go off now, likely reminding him to go to the store and pick up some vinegar…
He stretched his arm out, waggling his fingers, but the phone was just out of reach, letting out another loud BEEP-BEEP.
“C’mon,” he said under his breath, his middle finger reaching the table but not the phone, “C’mon…”
He felt Daigo shift again and grimaced, watching his eyes flutter open.
“Whassat?” he mumbled, voice heavy with sleep as he rocked his neck around a little.
“Sorry babe,” Shinada said, taking advantage of this state to move and grab his phone, switching off the reminder, “Nice nap?”
“Hmm…could do with a bit more.” Daigo’s sleepy expression quickly changed into a furrowed brow and a smirk, wrapping his arms tight around Shinada, locking him in place.
Shinada couldn’t stop the little squeak he let out, scrunching up his face. “Daigo-kun! I gotta go to the store!”
“That can wait,” Daigo said, nuzzling his face down against Shinada’s chest once more, “I need my nice warm pillow to stay right where it is.”
“Daigo…”
Shinada pouted playfully, but Daigo didn’t respond, already fallen back to sleep.
He sighed, managing to squirm one of his arms free and resting it on Daigo’s back. “Fine, you win…”
Like he was going to complain about getting to avoid his chores for a longer nap.
I really enjoy solo journaling games and RPGs. They really scratch that itch in my brain for storytelling.
Due to the nature of these games, I end up with some writing at the end of it, so...yeah, why not post here.
this particular piece is based on a session with Time To Kill by Gila RPGs. Ended up being a lot shorter that I anticipated but it was the perfect way to unwind. Definitely one I'll try again in the future.
This hotel lobby has some of the worst furniture I’ve ever experienced. The old worn leather couch creaks as I shift, loose springs digging into my back. Makes me reach around and massage near the bottom of my spine
I still sit in a particular way because of that day – far too straight and tilted to the side. Helps ignore any lingering ache there. The painkillers I was given around the time helped, but they would do nothing but make me addicted to them now.
I had awkwardly explained to the doctor that I was moving house and lifted the fridge wrong, so that’s why I now had a slipped disc. I wasn’t telling a complete lie – I had lifted a fridge. To flip it over and crush a particularly pesky target in a hurry.
Still. Sometimes it still hurts there. Just a bit. Enough to be noticeable, but not enough that it’s worth getting it checked. Just old pains coming back to haunt me.
I have a list of things. Will nots. It’s small, but even in this business, it’s useful to have some – pretend you have some form of humanity and morals left. Won’t do kids, for example. Very few people would do kids and the ones who do you pay out the nose. I haven’t broken it so far but…this guy.
I have to keep telling myself – this target is a monster. Destroying this city and taking advantage of every poor soul he’s condemned to live in squalor.
But he did this…he opened this wildlife rescue centre a few months ago. A place they take in sick hedgehogs and deer that have been hit by cars or whatever. And he just seemed so sincere. The way he held his wife as he cut the ribbon, the speech he gave. He genuinely seemed to care. The way his wife looked back at him, she seemed to care too.
They loved each other.
And that’s my usual rule. A question I ask myself. Would anyone care if I got rid of this guy?
And I think someone would. No matter the workers he’s abused, the people he’s left to die, he has a family that adores him through all that.
I push through. Sometimes you have to hurt good people in the process of hurting bad people.
The animal lover thing is something else. The target is a patron of several animal-based charities, is always pictured with his family dog or horse-riding, and it just makes me think of Ollie. The kittens he used to foster. The cardboard box with an old Star Wars towel in that he kept in the back of his car in case he found some poor injured pigeon on his way to work. Ollie adored animals.
I used to immediately trust anyone who loved animals because of Ollie. If you love animals, you must be a good person, that was my thinking. I was wrong, of course.
Even the target. He came across as the perfect animal lover, but I’d seen the pictures from inside his home the client had gotten me. The mounted heads of various exotic, rare animals he’d shot. His cruelty truly had no limits.
I hadn’t seen Ollie in ten years. Not since his mother’s funeral. I don’t dare check up on him online, because I know it’ll only ruin me further. The one good thing in my life and I just destroyed it.
It’s why this job is such a perfect fit for me.
Sometimes it’s hard to think of the benefits for this position. The sleepless nights and the distance I must keep from regular society.
I’m a sort of freelancer at the moment. Makes the work harder. But this client, the things they’ve promised me…I don’t know their real name, but they left a calling card from The Scarlet Circle. An agency of some of the best hitmen in the world, well known amongst the sort of people who would wish to hire a trained killer.
Everyone knows what happens if you succeed on a hit given to you by The Scarlet Circle. You’re in. Higher paying contracts, the safety net being amongst your own…it’s the assassin’s dream.
If I do this smoothly, without a hitch, that means I’m in. My work has already been clean enough that they took an interest, so I have to keep going.
Then again, the payment. The Scarlet Circle are known for giving massive payments, cash in hand, delivered to your residence by courier with ease. How they know where you live, nobody quite knows.
You hear rumours sometimes. That so-and-so got offered a choice – enough money to kick back and never kill again, or to join the Circle, and be part of a group of the most elite killers in history, that they took the money and were living it up in a mansion in the Cypriot hills or something.
Like anyone who still had a shred of themselves left, the thought of quitting was often on the back of my mind. A little voice going “Cut and run whilst you still can. Whilst you’re still alive.”
What if I got such an offer? Money or power. Would I accept the offer to join the Circle? Keep taking contracts, keep killing the monsters that plagued the same airspace as me.
Or would I take the money and go? Quit this life…maybe find Ollie again. Show him I’d changed.
I’d tried it before. To quit. This would be my first contract in…six months.
That night, I was back in my apartment, scrubbing blood from my fingernails and this wave of sickness washed over me. Maybe it was the way the knife had squelched as it slid between the target’s ribs, or the crack of bone as their neck snapped, hitting the pavement below the bedroom window.
That target had cried. Begged for his life. Fell on his knees and sobbed like a baby for his mother as I stood there.
I was usually quick enough that a target never got a word in. But something about that night shook me. I hesitated. I had spent the last six months walking around like I was in a daze. Potential clients approached me, but I turned them away.
That letter from the Scarlet Circle changed my mind. Brought me out of it.
Something drops at my feet with a slight thump. It’s enough to bring me out of my thoughts for a moment, as I look down and see a small satchel. Dark brown leather, as worn as the sofa I was sat on.
I looked around, trying to spot whoever could have dropped it. A slim figure in a deep purple suit was the closest I could guess might have done it, but they were walking away through a set of doors with purpose.
It had to be intentional. This was for me.
I lifted the satchel onto my lap and checked inside.
A gun. A sleek pistol with a silencer on the end. Quick and deadly.
A note. Folded up with the hotel’s name on the paper, immaculate writing.
Room 701. Security cameras will be turned off for fifteen minutes from arrival. Use that time wisely.
Once deed is done, come back down to reception. Ask for a key to conference room 5. Meet us there.
We expect great things.
Suppose this was the other benefit of the Scarlet Circle. Someone to help. A team to do things like hack the security cameras to make sure you aren’t seen. Access to weaponry that was usually out of budget.
We expect great things.
And that’s what they would get.
The doors opened. Joel Christoph sauntered in, walked over to the reception desk.
He didn’t notice me. Targets never usually do. I get to my feet, slink around the corners as he makes his way to the elevator. Just as the doors are closing, I rush over, calling out.
“Ah, wait!”
Christoph jumps a little in surprise as I try to push my hand against the door, reaching for the ‘open’ button. I slip inside, flash a smile.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. What floor?”
“Oh, same as you.”
The doors click shut. I glance up at the security camera in the corner of the elevator. The light was off. This better work.
I reach into the satchel, now on my shoulder. I had brought my knife for this, but a gun…they were the most efficient tool a hitman could own. Even as a threat.
“Hey, wait. The seventh floor is private-“
I lodge the butt of the gun into his throat. Christoph lets out a short gasp, but doesn’t move otherwise, stares straight ahead at his reflection.
“Don’t say a word,” I hiss, “Just take me to your room, and we’ll get this over with.”
Within two minutes, he’s shakily opening the door to his private suite.
Within five, I’m ordering him to the balcony.
He begs. He cries. He offers me money. Promises he won’t say a word to the cops.
I think about the photos of him I’ve seen. The aftermath of a night with him.
This isn’t stirring the same confusion the last job had given me when the target had broken down. No hesitation.
I shot him square between the eyes and he fell headfirst over the balcony, rushing to the streets below.
