#but you should go read against all odds guys
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A little headcannon tidbit based off of chapter 2 of @canarydarity 's ranchers baseball au <3
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St. Louis felt infinitely like home. Or, as close to home as Jimmy could get. Coming into the city from the Illinois side of the river made him sick to smell the air of his childhood backyard. To taste the dirt in his mouth as he, once again, lost against Grian at the diamonds. St. Louis was 10 times smaller than grand old New York, New York, but it was 10 times more welcoming. The drivers were calmer, the streets less full, the culture more laid back. It was a lazy city, sticky and slow like molasses in the early summer midwestern heat.
As the team bus rattled its way across the Eads Bridge, Jimmy felt Joel smack his arm, breaking his gaze away from the lazy flow of the Mississippi. “What in the bloody hell are they building?” Joel muttered, half standing to see over Tango’s shoulders across the isle. Tango looked as if he was about to burst out of the window, he was pressed so hard to the glass. He swiveled his head to look at Jimmy and Joel.
“You two haven’t heard? It’s been in every paper for weeks!” He was practically vibrating with excitement.
Jimmy shook his head and stood up taller to see what the fuss was about. By then, the whole team was ‘ooh and ahhing’ at the absolutely massive structure being built, right on the banks of the river.
“It’s going to be called the Gateway Arch. It’s probably going to be the biggest feat of engineering since the Empire State. Probably better than the Needle out in Seattle is going to be.” Jimmy raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on his lips. Since when did Tango have a special interest in engineering?
“I did a few months in an engineering class. Got me hooked, but numbers are easier to understand.” Tango explained, as if he had read Jimmy’s mind. Then he turned back around and continued to peer at the stories-tall cranes slowly moving into place, and the two wide, square beginnings of what would apparently become a feat of engineering. Jimmy didn’t really see the draw, but he leaned across Joel and the isle to Tango anyways.
“We should come back to see it once it’s finished.” Jimmy said, watching the construction site fade behind them. The Cardnial’s stadium appeared behind the looming Old Courthouse.
“I agree!” Tango replied, beaming. Jimmy didn’t care if he was 100 by the time the Arch was finished. He’d come back and see it with Tango when it was done.
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hi worm i know you're reading this,,,ok I haven't had the energy (or time) to do any art for the baseball au but the brainrot has been stuck with me for DAYS. so I decided to write a little tidbit of how I imagined the ride into St. Louis for that game against the Cardnials. I have a lot of love for the city I grew up around so I really wanted to do something for it for you :) And if you're interested, here's some of the history I incorparated to make it feel more historically accurate! (i'm a cloested history buff, can you tell)
the st louis gateway arch began construction in 1963 technically, but I'm like 90% sure that there was soo much prep work done on the site before the actual construction, as there is a basement underneath it, and a huge walkway/viewing platform area, as well as the whole thing with the levee right on the Mississippi. I wanted to sort of figure out what that would look like in 1961 when the plans were being laid out. Also, the Arch is a certified national park, it's professional name being "St. Louis Gateway Arch National Park"
The Old Courthouse. UGH its one of my favorite buildings I've ever seen actually. Its so beautiful, and you can, from the road I'm writing them on, see Busch staduim looming behind it. The Courthouse also actually held the first two trials of the Dred Scott case, if you're into that kind of stuff.
The Eads Bridge. Also one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. It is the oldest bridge on the Mississippi and was constructed under the care of Andrew Carnagie. That bad boy is made out of actual authentic Carnagie steel. Sooo history rich. Pretty sure they actually held a parade with elephants once it was done. so that's cool
Oh, and Busch stadium. It wasn't called that way back when! And it looked much, much different than it does now. I'm honestly not sure what it was called in the 60's, but I'm sure most people called it Cardnial's stadium. It was a beautiful and massive stadium back then, and it still is now.
the seattle neetle was being constructed around the same time as the arch as well, which is why i had Tango say something about it LOL
And for funsies, here's a scorecard that I'm sure Tango would've recieved in 1961 from the stadium.
hope you enjoyed my little rant!! And if you made it to the bottom of this and you're not worm, I hope you enjoyed learning a little about st. louis today. :)
#tangotek#jimmy solidarity#rancher duo#team rancher#cloudy speaks too much#against all odds#baseball au#this is what i did instead of my final math project#this au is not mine!!#but you should go read against all odds guys#pls#trafficshipping
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ᡣ𐭩 DRIVE
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: against all odds, you come across dazai osamu again, and you somehow find yourself roped into being his date for an event celebrating the armed detective agency. you're not falling. you swear. (you're lying). {wordcount: 9.2k; fem!reader, sfw, romance}
AUTHOR'S NOTES part 2 is hereeeeee! i hope you guys enjoy, this scene had one of my favs to write so i hope you like it too!! reblogs definitely appreciated!! i’ll reblog with the taglist as soon as it decides to show on the dash & in the tags!
SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST
READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B
“We really need to stop meeting like this.”
You aren’t sure how you feel as you stare at the man hanging upside down, tangled in a tapestry—amused, concerned, partly puzzled, a combination of all three really. Dazai Osamu looks half out of it as his gaze focuses on you; you wonder how long he’s been hanging like this, and how he managed to get in this position in the first place.
For the second time in two weeks, the man manages to catch you off guard, this time on your way home from a date that had gone horribly, horribly wrong with a classmate; you’d already spent the past two hours wandering the streets upset over all of this and you were ready to get home, but now you find yourself hesitating.
“Ah, my sweet, sweet belladonna, my lovely savior,” Dazai sighs, directing a quick, flirty smile toward you. “Won’t you help a poor, suffering man?”
“How did you manage this, Dazai?” you ask, letting the entertainment slip into your tone to distract yourself from the stress of the failed date as you look around and try to figure out the best way to get him down from where he’s entangled. You’d have to climb up onto the nearby dumpster to get enough reach to cut him down but you don’t even have anything to cut him down with.
“I tried to jump off that building,” he sighs, and you follow his gaze up to the tall building right to the left of the two of you. Your lips part in shock, you suppose you should have figured something like that because how else would he end up tangled upside down in a tapestry, but it’s still jarring to hear. “But I hit this on the way down and got stuck. I’ve been here for way too long, so many people have passed me by without helping—what a cruel, cruel world.”
“You are either the luckiest or unluckiest man alive,” you murmur, catching sight of a jagged piece of metal underneath the dumpster, picking it up and doing your best to climb onto it, but it’s difficult in heels and a dress. “Why are you so intent on dying?”
“Why are you so intent on living?” Dazai hits you with a question back instead of responding, peering up at you as he slowly spins in the air while you do your best to cut through the thick tapestry.
You frown at the question, brows furrowing. “Because I have things I still need to accomplish. Goals to achieve. Don’t you?”
“The only goal I need to achieve is finding a beautiful lady to do a double suicide with,” Dazai says, lips curling up into another charming smile but the effects of it are diminished because of the way he was still hanging upside down, spinning in slow circles. “Would you like to join me, bella?”
“Maybe in fifty years,” you say dryly.
“I’ll-”
Dazai doesn’t get to finish his sentence as you finally cut through the tapestry and he tumbles down head first to the ground. You bite back a smile as he lets out a loud yelp, crumpling on the ground in an unceremonious heap. You lower yourself back down to the ground, eyes settling on him as you watch him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head.
He looks up at you through his lashes, the charming smile on his lips a bit more lazy and casual as he looks over you. “My, aren’t you dressed pretty? What’s the occasion?” As you prepare to give a bullshit excuse, he holds up his hand and says: “Wait! Let me guess. A long day of work and no one to go out with after, so you decided to get all dressed up and walk around the city to see if fate would lead you to someone, and since our fingers are tied by that thin red thread, naturally, you were led right to me. Oh, my fated, no wonder I’ve evaded death so easily despite so many attempts, destiny refused to let me die as we’re predestined to be together.”
You stare at him, watching as he presses the back of his hand to his forehead, tilting his head back because what the fuck?
“I was on a date,” you say, ignoring the entire rest of what he said to answer his question, truthfully at that because his whole tirade about destiny and fate had thrown you off.
Dazai wilts, but then straightens up again and says, “Well, it couldn’t have been a good one if he didn’t at least walk you home.”
You grimace. “I think I should be insulted by how pleased you look at my night being ruined,” you mutter, holding your hand out to him to help him up.
Dazai places his hand in yours; long, thin fingers wrapped around your hand as you help him to his feet. He doesn’t let go immediately, nor does he back away, brown eyes lidded as he looks down at you, so close that your clothes were brushing his. The corner of his lips tilt up, his fingertips grazing your inner wrist. “How about we make the most of a ruined night then?”
You raise your eyebrows—you think you should get back to your apartment, get some work done to make up for how much of a mess the night had turned out, but you find yourself hesitating because do you really want to go wallow alone now?
“How do you plan we do that?” you ask instead of giving him an answer, although he evidently takes it as an answer considering his face lights up at your words.
“Come on,” he says, tugging your arm as he turns to make his way down the sidewalk, dragging you along with him. “I’ll show you someplace.”
“O-okay,” you fumble over your words in surprise, but it isn’t like Dazai is giving you much of a choice considering the way he’s pulling you along with him.
Your face feels hot when you notice the people still prowling the streets shooting the two of you odd looks—Dazai doesn’t seem to care, focusing on getting you to whatever destination he has planned, but you can feel their eyes burning into you with every step you take.
“Ignore them,” Dazai says, as if he can read your thoughts. He tosses his head over his shoulder as he looks at you, the corner of his lips curling up into another lazy smile that makes your breath catch. “They don’t know how to have fun.”
“Yeah,” is all you reply with, a bit doubtfully as you turn your gaze up to the dark skies, where the dark clouds you had noticed earlier in the day are now gathered over the city. “It’s going to rain.”
Dazai only raises his eyebrows, face riddled with disbelief as he turns fully to look at you, walking backwards without a care in the world as he forces people to walk around him. “Now, you care about rain?” he asks, referring to your first meeting.
You let out a puff of laughter. “I guess you have a point.”
“Naturally,” he says, teeth gleaming beneath the streetlamps as his grin widens. “I’m one of the Agency’s sharpest detectives, after all.”
“How humble,” you note, but your voice is light, teasing, and you’re almost embarrassed.
Dazai is unbothered by your playful dig, spinning back around to turn down the sidewalk onto a busier street, carelessly pulling you along with him and causing people to swerve around the two of you. You try to fumble out apologies as people shoot the two of you dirty looks but Dazai barely gives you enough time to speak the words as he continues down the street.
“Have you heard?” Dazai asks, returning to walking backward so he can look at you, garnering even more angry looks. “We’re heroes now.”
You have heard, of course, it’s all over the news. You hadn’t been in Yokohama when everything happened, you were visiting a friend outside of the city, but you’d seen it all going down on the TV as it was happening. And naturally, it’s impossible to avoid all of the news articles honoring the Armed Detective Agency and their part in taking down the threat to the city afterward.
“I have,” you drawl, and then add after a moment’s hesitation: “Shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of…”
Instead of trying to kill yourself.
“This is me celebrating,” Dazai says mournfully, so casually that it takes you aback as he tilts his head back in grief. “It was supposed to be successful this time.”
“Well…” You aren’t sure what to say to that, the words dying on your lips as the first raindrops begin to fall from the sky. “I’m glad it wasn’t successful,” you finally decide upon, averting your gaze as Dazai’s face shifts into one of surprise as he looks down at you.
His lips part as if to say something, but seems to decide against it, instead letting a smile slip onto his face as he says: “Speaking of celebrations, my sweet belladonna, this hero needs a date to the celebratory event that the government is hosting for us in two weeks. Join me?”
You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, as the rain begins to come down harder—a flash flood, you realize. You watch as people start scattering around you, running for cover, but you and Dazai remain standing in the middle of the sidewalk, him awaiting your answer and you trying to figure out how to politely say you’d rather die than go to a celebratory event with people you don’t know.
You wonder if Dazai suspects your answer because he does not, in fact, give you the chance to speak.
Your eyes widen as he tugs you closer to him. “What’re you doing?” you stutter over your words as his free hand finds your hip and he spins the two of you around recklessly, forcing several people to dodge again as they run past the two of you and into a store to wait for the sudden rain to pass. Only his firm grip on you keeps you from slipping on the puddles forming on the sidewalk beneath the two of you. “Dazai!”
“Dancing,” is all he replies with, eyes shining as he lifts his arm to twirl you beneath it, your heels splashing in a puddle as he drags you along with his dance like a puppet. “It’s supposed to be romantic—dancing in the rain—I’ve seen it in movies, are you romanced, yet?”
You aren’t sure what makes you want to laugh, maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation or the way Dazai keeps having to blink away the raindrops that fall into his eyes, but before you know it, you're biting your lower lip to withhold the giggles rising through your chest.
“Are you laughing at me?” Dazai gasps in mock offense as he spins you outward once. You nearly trip over your heels but before you can, he’s spinning you back toward him, arm wrapping around your waist as he dips you down. “And here I was thinking I was doing a good job romancing you.”
His voice drops an octave as he lowers his voice, dark eyes searching yours, and you think that there’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, his hair is wet and matted against his forehead, dripping in your face as he hangs over you, you can feel his breath fanning against your lips and his body heat radiating against yours. Lightning webs across the sky above him, illuminating his face in a way that has your breath catching. You’re in heels and a dress and you can so easily trip and break your ankle, it’s only his hold on you preventing that from happening. It’s dangerous, and stupid—and maybe it’s a little romantic.
“I-”
You aren’t even able to get the admission from your lips because as soon as you begin to speak, someone slams into Dazai from behind. You yelp and his eyes widen as he stumbles forward, twisting the two of you around so he takes the brunt of the fall. He hits the ground hard with an ‘oof,’ half in the muddy grass and half on the sidewalk, and you fall on top of him, lips parted in shock.
“Well,” Dazai finally says after a few moments of stunned silence. “This is distinctly less romantic.”
And you laugh. Unable to hold it back now, you burst into laughter—hands braced on his chest, body flush against his, there’s mud splattered across his face and you’re pretty sure your makeup must be running down your cheeks from the rain. You think that your heels are probably ruined and you’d have to spend hours getting the stains out of your dress, but you laugh because you can’t remember the last time you actually had fun and weren’t stressed about school and the future, and your night had been going so horribly that you’d lost any hope of it taking a turn for the better. You might’ve been crying a bit too, you aren’t sure why, but it’s raining so you hope that he doesn’t notice.
You notice Dazai’s eyebrows lift a bit in surprise before his face seems to soften, a small smile tugging at his lips as he lets his head fall back against the mud.
“So,” he says, “about that date?”
“Nobody believes I have a date for the event,” Dazai complains two weeks later as he enters your apartment and throws himself onto your couch, watching as you dab on some dark red lipstick—an occurrence you’d become quite used to the past two weeks, because evidently Dazai Osamu does not need a key nor invitation into your home, he just picks the lock and comes right in. At least you’re expecting him this time. “Atsushi-kun laughed in my face. He laughed in my face! Can you believe it? After everything I’ve done for him, the nerve.”
You grin, glancing up into your mirror to catch his eyes. “To be honest, I still don’t believe you have a date for the dinner and I am your date.”
Dazai blanches, throwing his arm over his face as he slumps into the couch. “Et tu, bella?” he sighs sorrowfully and you laugh, spinning around in your chair to face him.
“Think of it this way,” you say, twisting your lipstick back into its container and placing it into your purse. Dazai peek up from the couch, eyes focusing on you as you speak. You almost feel a bit flustered under his gaze, it’s more intense than you expected. “You’ll get to see the looks on their face when they realize that you do actually have a date.”
Dazai brightens a bit at your words and then, as if a sudden thought passed through his head, he begins cackling like a madman—although you’re beginning to think the description is far more apt than you believed, Dazai Osamu is simply not sane. “Kunikada-kun is going to be so mad that I have a date and he doesn’t.”
“You’re wrinkling your suit, sit up straight,” you say and turn your attention back to the mirror, discreetly watching as Dazai lets out an exaggerated sigh before doing as you ask. Your eyes linger on him for a moment—he looks different dressed up nicely in a sleek, dark suit than his typical tan trench coat. He still wears those odd bandages all over his body, but you suppose that’s just a him thing, and no fancy event would get him to take them off. You can’t quite place what the exact difference is but you find that your gaze keeps dragging back to him.
He catches you staring and winks, you roll your eyes and look away, grateful that your embarrassment doesn’t show on your face as you glance one last time at yourself in the mirror to ensure that nothing is out of place
Dazai, you have learned over the past two weeks, can’t stand silence, so you aren’t surprised when you hear him start complaining about something else as soon as the conversation dies down.
“Did you know I pushed two of my little protégés to work with each other?” he asks, reaching out to grab the papers on your coffee table when he thinks you aren’t looking. You throw one of your makeup brushes at him. He yelps and draws back his hand.
“That’s nice,” you say absently. “Do they work together well?”
“Oh, they work together great,” Dazai says, and you glance back at him when you notice the sheer bitterness in his tone. “I think they love each other now.”
Your brows furrow, unsure of why Dazai seems so irritated by this. “That’s… great, isn’t it?” you asked slowly.
“No!” Dazai says so vehemently that you think he might leap to his feet in outrage. “That is not great. They are not allowed to be in a relationship before me. I forbid it.”
Your lips part a bit, a noise caught between a laugh and shock escaping them as you look over at Dazai again. “Okay,” you say, dragging out the word in amusement. Dazai shoots an affronted expression toward you in response, but you don’t give him the chance to speak again. You rise to your feet and swing your purse over your shoulder, glancing at the time, realizing you had about fifteen minutes to be at the City Hall, which is a forty minute drive without traffic and it’s a Saturday evening, so there’s always traffic.
“Oh god, we have to-”
You turn to leave only to bump right into Dazai. Blinking in confusion, you look up at him to ask what he’s doing but the words die on your tongue.
He’s too close as he looks down at you, you can smell the faint scent of his cologne and you can feel his body brushing yours, the corner of his lips twitching up. “Have I earned a kiss yet?” he hums, leaning his face down a bit so that his lips are almost barely grazing yours.
“Maybe,” you say, eyes flickering down to his lips for the sparest second before you watch his eyes light up only for you to take a step back, “but even if you did, you’re not messing up my makeup.”
Dazai looks as if he’d been shot in the heart, head dropping back as he groans and pouts at your words. “You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs, voice a long whine. “Won’t you indulge me with just a taste?”
“No,” you say, slipping past him to make your way over to the door where the keys to your car are hanging on a small hook. “Are you ready? We’re going to be late.”
The exaggerated grief that paints Dazai’s expression instantly disappears as he eyes your keys with a look that’s nothing short of devious. Distantly, you frown and close your fist around your keys, putting them out of his sight, but Dazai is undeterred, walking over to you.
“I can drive us,” he says, that same expression on his face as he holds his hand out. You don’t trust the look on his face, nor do you trust the way he’s all but bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s the least I can do, right?”
You’re doubtful, looking down at his extended hand as he waits for you to drop the keys in them. “I can drive,” you say, but Dazai immediately pouts at your words, looking genuinely bummed out, and you feel a little bad because you don’t even like driving, you just don’t trust Dazai to be a good driver. You hesitate. “Do you even know how to drive?”
“Of course,” Dazai says hurriedly, dark eyes lighting back up.
You exhale, reaching out to place your keys in his hand—the smile on his face is wicked, dread builds in your gut. You think you might have made a mistake.
You’re surprised that your car is still in one piece as Dazai parks crookedly across three spots in the parking lot of the city hall. You’re surprised that you are in one piece. You don’t move for a second, fingers still biting into the leather seat you’re buckled in, eyes wide and barely breathing. As Dazai turns the car off, you finally turn your head to the side to look at him before getting out of the car, grateful to be standing on solid ground.
“Never again.”
Dazai’s unbothered, as always—his smile is wide and restless, eyes exhilarated as they dart around the car, fingers clutching the keys as he finally steps outside. He looks as if he’d just won the lottery, that gleeful over having been given the chance to drive. You knew you should have gone with your gut when the man first asked if he could drive, and as miserable and anxiety-inducing it was racing through the streets, in between cars and half on the sidewalk, you think it might’ve been worth it, a bit, considering Dazai’s reaction.
“Maybe once more,” Dazai bargains, holding out his arm to you.
“Never again,” you repeat, but your voice is light as you take his arm and let him lead you up the steps to the city hall. “I cannot believe you didn’t get us pulled over.”
“Must not have been that bad then,” Dazai says, proudly.
“Ha! More like they didn’t want to risk their own lives trying to stop you.”
Dazai pouts terribly and then adds petulantly, “But it was fun.”
“It was something alright,” you agree idly. You aren’t sure if you were having fun in the moment, you were more scared for your life and your car, but you suppose looking back on it was a bit entertaining.
“You’re so mean, bella,” he sighs exaggeratedly. “You refuse my well-earned kiss, you mock me, now you insult my driving skills.”
“The only thing insulted tonight was my car,” you mutter to yourself, glancing back once more at it before Dazai steps forward to push open the wide doors to the city hall.
Instantly, you’re met with the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a young, unfamiliar voice calling, “Dazai-san!” excitedly.
Your gaze drifts up from Dazai to where a teen with silver hair and pretty eyes rushes up to the two of you. He’s so tunnel visioned on Dazai that he doesn’t even notice you until he’s standing right in front of you, and when he does, his eyes go so wide that you think they might pop right out of his skull. He looks between you and Dazai questioningly, lips parting and closing like a fish out of water.
Dazai looks like the cat that got the canary, eyes gleaming at the expression on Atsushi’s face and lips twitching up into a wicked smile.
“Atsushi-kuuuuun,” he drags out the boy's name in a long sing-song. “Meet my sweet belladonna, the one you so rudely claim didn’t exist.”
Atsushi looks flustered as he turns his attention toward you, eyes wide with panic and redness rising to his cheeks. “I didn’t-I mean-I just-” he stutters so badly that you’re forced to take mercy on the poor boy.
“Don’t worry,” you say with an easy grin. “I wouldn’t believe I existed either coming from Dazai.”
Dazai gapes. Atsushi snickers, hand coming up to cover his mouth to hide his smile. Atsushi glances once at Dazai and then looks back at you and whispers, “Is he paying you?”
Dazai looks thoroughly offended.
“Unfortunately, he doesn't need to,” you say with a snort, "but I'm sure he would if he had to."
Dazai gasps.
Atsushi snorts loudly and then looks a bit embarrassed. A woman with pretty eyes and short dark hair comes up behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. She throws a sharp grin at you. “You must be the infamous woman that Dazai has been talking about nonstop for two weeks,” she says, ignoring how Dazai looks like he wants to wither as you raise your eyebrows at him. “Blink twice if you need help.”
Dazai looks appalled now. “Yosano-sensei,” he complains, “That’s so-”
You pointedly blink twice. Yosano barks out a laugh and nearly chokes over it, Dazai gasps again, louder and far more dismayed. He slumps over your shoulder, burying his face into the top of your head.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your hair.
You pat his waist as another man approaches the group of you, blonde hair tied back neatly in a ponytail and glasses hanging on the edge of his nose. His eyes are sharp and narrowed as he looks at where Dazai is draping himself all over you. “Oi, you shitty waste of bandages, have some decorum, would you? We're at a government event, stop throwing yourself at people.”
Dazai perks up, that unscrupulous smile instantly returning as his gaze focuses on the blonde. “Kunikida-kuuun,” he now sings the other man’s name, arm slipping around your waist to tug you into his side as he says. “Come meet my date. She’s a grad student at Waseda University.”
You have a distinct feeling that he’s rubbing it in Kunikida’s face, and from the way the man’s expression twists in genuine surprise at Dazai’s words, you figure that said feeling is correct. Kunikida turns his attention toward you. “And you’re with him?” he asks so distastefully that you almost laugh. “How did you even meet him?”
You give Dazai a side-eye, considering whether or not you should tell the truth. You notice the pleading expression on his face and squint, but before you can make your decision, he speaks up, voice loud and exaggerated: “A fateful encounter under the moonlit shore of the Zushi Beach, we stumbled into each other as if guided by the hand of god himself. I-”
Suspicious now of the sideways explanation he’s giving about your own meeting with him, and recalling the tale he regaled you of his meeting with the very boy standing a few feet away from you, you cut off Dazai and turn to Atsushi. “Atsushi-kun, how did you and Dazai meet?”
Dazai flounders, hands flying in front of as if to wave Atsushi off from answering, but Atsushi only scowls and says, “I had to jump into the Tsurumi River to free him from where he was floating upside down in a barrel trying to drown himself. Then he had the nerve to yell at me for it.”
Pointedly, you look at Dazai, who at least has the decency to look sheepish as he glances at you. “I did take him out to dinner after though,” he offers.
“With my money,” Kunikida rages loudly and Dazai throws his head back with a loud sigh of complaint.
“None of you have my back. Not a single one of you,” Dazai accuses. “I would be a good wingman for you guys.”
Kunikida looks downright insulted. “You are the opposite of a wingman,” he spits. “In fact, you go out of your way to embarrass me in front of women, you lousy liar-”
“I will not have you make me look bad because you’re jealous any longer,” Dazai proclaims, holding his hand up as if to silence Kunikida.
“Jealous?” Kunikida booms after Dazai, but Dazai is already dragging you away, stealing two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter and handing one over to you with a misleadingly innocent smile.
“It’s true, he’s jealous,” Dazai says, lacing his fingers into yours as he idly walks around the event hall with you, sipping at his champagne. “He has fifty-eight criteria for his ideal woman, you fit at least forty of them. He’s probably soooo mad you’re here with me.”
You blink and look at Dazai, wondering if you heard him correctly. “I’m sorry, what?” you ask with a laugh. “Fifty-eight-”
“Criteria, yeah,” Dazai confirms, “and he wonders why he can’t get a girlfriend—blames it on me.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m sure you don’t help.”
Dazai pouts but then his amusement fades a bit as his eyes scan the crowd of people, dark eyes taking upon an uncharacteristically serious visage. His lips tighten and the corner of his eyes wrinkle as he squints, as if something about the whole event is bothering him.
“You okay?” you ask and Dazai looks at you, a bit startled.
“Yeah,” he says, and you watch as he smooths his face out—as if you’d seen something you weren’t supposed to see and now he was trying to play it off and pretend you didn’t. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You’ve noticed over the past two weeks, as you’ve gotten to know Dazai Osamu a bit better, that he’s far more complex than he likes to portray himself to be. He puts on a theatrical show with bright smiles, loud words and over-exaggerated clownlike behavior, and he’s very good at making sure that the mask he puts on rarely wavers. You’ve only caught it faltering a few times, including that first time you met when you’d woken up in the middle of the night and caught his empty expression as he stared out into the storm.
He doesn’t take well to people pointing it out though, you’ve realized. You tried to once a week ago when you caught him looking a bit lost and alone at a picture you had of you and two of your friends at a bar downtown. He’d broken into your apartment, as you’ve grown unfortunately used to over the past two weeks, and he was waiting for you to get back from class, snooping around while he waited. You weren’t supposed to be back until much later but your five o’clock class had been canceled, and he was so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even heard you enter your apartment until you were a few feet away and asking if he was okay.
He promptly fled with a half-assed excuse about an urgent mission and he didn’t come back to your apartment for two days. When he finally did, he acted like nothing happened. You think that it’s not really your right to push and you don’t want to step over any boundary of his, but a part of you is starting to long to figure out what exactly is behind the mask he wears and that scares you. You find yourself smiling a bit too much whenever Dazai is around, your face always feels a bit hotter and your brain always feels a bit fuzzy—the tell-tale signs of falling are starting to appear and you want to know the man behind the carefully constructed mask before you start to fall only to realize that there’s no one there to catch you.
“You looked a bit lost in thought,” you finally say, testing the words on your tongue and scanning his face to see if even that would be too much of a push for him.
It is.
“You see right through me, don’t you?” He laughs it off as a joke, but you can all but taste the bitterness in his tone and you can see the mirth thinly veiled behind his eyes. “I’ll be right back, the boss is calling me over.”
Dazai doesn’t wait for you to respond, he tosses you a wink and another casual smile before he sets off across the room but you aren’t fooled by the faux-charm this time, knowing that he’s fleeing because you got a bit too close to asking something that he doesn’t want to answer. Lifting your champagne glass back to your lips, you idly watch him make his way over to a handsome, silver-haired man who’s in deep discussion with a young man with messy black hair.
You sigh and wave over a server to grab another flute of champagne before you even finish the one in hand, disappointment sweeping through you as you realize that the night is likely going to be a very, very long one.
You’re finishing your fourth glass when you hear someone call your last name and pause a bit in confusion, turning around to face a tall middle-aged man with graying hair. Your eyes widen a bit as you recognize Tonan Tanzo, the Vice Minister of Justice, making his way toward you with a glass of wine in hand.
“Tonan-san,” you greet, nodding your head a bit in respect for the older man, who you spoke to briefly at the Ministry’s panel at your university a week and a half ago. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you,” the man replies distantly, more a nicety than anything else. “I must say, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight. You’re acquainted with the Armed Detective Agency?”
There’s an edge to his voice, one that you’re not sure if you like. You wonder if he has an issue with the Agency, but you don’t see why he would, they’ve been nothing but helpful in fostering peace in the city.
You only smile idly. “Vaguely,” you respond, not giving away all too much. You wonder if Dazai knows anything about whatever the man’s issue is—you’d have to ask him later.
Tonan hums, as if your answer wasn’t satisfactory, and then he says, “I was meaning to email you about the internship you were hoping for under Minister Hasegawa—all of the chaos of the past week has prevented me from doing so. I’ll be sure to do so by the end of this week so we can work to finalize something for winter break and the summer. Perhaps we can figure something out with your schedule to get you some training at the office before the semester ends.”
Your lips part a bit in shock at the suddenness of the offer but you school your expression quickly, mind racing as you force out, “I would appreciate that very much, Tonan-san. I’m sure we can work something out.”
Tonan Tanzo only hums again, nodding at you once before his eyes flicker up above you, a bit distastefully, just as you feel fingers brush your lower back. Tonan doesn’t even bother to greet Dazai as he turns to leave with a faint parting to you. You look up at Dazai, whose expression is cold as he stares after Tonan until the man disappears down a nearby hall.
“What was that about?” Dazai asks, the cold expression melting as soon as he looks down at you, dark eyes warm and curious as if he hadn’t just abandoned you for almost an hour. You almost feel a bit flustered beneath the gentle stare. Almost.
“I think he just offered me the job I was trying to get at the Ministry?” you say, still a bit dazed. “Although, I don’t think it’s necessarily because he wants me there, but it doesn’t really matter, I just need it for my resume.”
“Hm,” Dazai says to himself before his lips flicker up into a smile. “Well, congratulations are in order, I suppose. Good thing I grabbed us some more champagne.”
He lifts his other hand pointedly, showing off the two flutes he’d grabbed on the way back and you grin a bit, taking one from him, feeling a bit giddy now even though you’re pretty sure Tonan only hit you with the offer because of your affiliation with the Armed Detective Agency.
“You should probably slow down,” you note as you sip your own glass. “You’re on like seven now.”
“I’m fine, and you have no room to talk,” Dazai shoots you a playful smile. “Dance with me.”
“What?” you ask, eyes widening as Dazai takes the glass from you before you even take a second sip, placing it down on a nearby table with his as he grabs your arm and drags you to the center of the room, onto a dancefloor that nobody is using. “Dazai, no.”
“Dazai, yes,” he corrects with a wild grin and your face is aflame as eyes begin to turn in the direction of the two of you, curious as to what’s going on.
You want to die when Dazai forcibly spins you under his arm, much like that night out on the streets of Yokohama when the two of you ended up drenched and muddy except now there were dozens of eyes on you whereas then, people were more focused on trying to get to cover from the torrential downpour.
“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, embarrassment flooding through you because for as thin as Dazai is, he’s deceptively strong and you cannot break free of the grip he has on your hand and waist.
“Please,” he breathes out longingly. “A death at your hands would-”
“Stop.”
Dazai pouts, and then as if punishment for interrupting him, Dazai launches you into a dramatic dip, leaning down with a grin that would put the Cheshire Cat’s to shame as he nudges his nose against yours before pulling you back up and spinning you beneath his arm again.
“This is embarrassing,” you say, but Dazai is paying no mind to the attention that the two of you are gaining—in fact, he looks utterly pleased with himself. “I-”
“Look! Yosano-sensei and Atsushi-kun are joining us!” Dazai cheers, turning the two of you just enough so that you can catch sight of Yosano physically dragging a protesting Atsushi out onto the near-empty dance floor.
“Yosano-sensei, please, I’ve never danced before,” Atsushi pleads, tugging his wrist away from the older woman but her grip is iron clad as she tugs the boy toward her, taking the lead in a wide ballroom dance.
“Atsushi-kun,” Dazai sings. “Don’t look so nervous.”
Atsushi shoots Dazai a withering look, clearly blaming him for the unfortunate turn of events, and you relax a bit as you realize that Yosano pulling Atsushi onto the dance floor triggered a wave of several others: a dark-haired girl dragging an orange-haired boy onto the floor, the president of the Agency holding a hand out to a young girl who keeps shooting longing looks in the direction of the people dancing, a few older couples.
“See, everyone was just too nervous to be the first,” Dazai preens, tugging you close as he shifts from a wide and theatrical ballroom dance to a slower and more intimate one.
Your breath catches as he wraps an arm around your waist, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your lower back as his hand flattens. His other hand slips from where it’s intertwined with your to join his right on your waist. You’re so close to him that you can smell the faint scent of champagne on his breath as you loop your arms around his neck with a small smile.
Dazai’s dark eyes are glittering as he looks down at you, warm as melted honey and soft as velvet, you’re almost entranced. His lips are curved up into a gentle smile—you think you want to kiss him, and you swallow nervously as soon as the thought crosses your mind. You also think he might be able to read your mind, because his smile becomes a bit more mischievous as he leans down.
He doesn’t kiss you, but you think he might as well from how close he is to you—you swear that his lips are all but brushing yours. You feel a bit dizzy, and although there are enough people swaying and spinning around the two of you that you don’t really have to worry about any attention being on the two of you, you still feel a bit flustered by the thought of so many possibly seeing this.
“Now, do I get my kiss?” he whispers, and your lips part to respond but no words leave them. You think that’s dangerous because you definitely should not kiss him right now but your brain will not cooperate in formulating the words. Dazai lets out a small puff of laughter, his breath is warm against your lips and you want to kiss him even more—dangerous, you think again. “Fine, fine, I’ll wait just a bit longer.”
He doesn’t back away though and your heart feels like it’s lodged in your throat as he hums along quietly to the music playing, swaying back and forth with you tucked neatly in your arms. You think this is far too intimate for two people who aren’t even technically dating (you won’t admit that you’d been questioning it earlier with how often he frequents your apartment and his casual intimacy with you and felt a bit embarrassed when he made his comment about his proteges being in a relationship before him), and you think you should probably back away, but instead you find your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.
There’s something indecipherable in his eyes—conflicted and confused, but with a far heavier emotion thinly veiled behind it, something caught between longing and adoration but with a hint of melancholy. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but you figure that now’s not the time and he’ll probably just blow you off in the same way he did before.
So instead, you just give him a small smile and watch as his dark eyes widen a fraction at the action—you wonder if he realized that you noticed that something’s up with him and more importantly, you wonder if you weren’t supposed to notice. With bated breath, you wait to see whether or not he’s going to close off.
Around the two of you, the President lifts his arm to let the young girl spin beneath it, Atsushi is still letting out panicked protests as he and Yosano sweep across the dancefloor, an older couple laughs loudly as the man dips her and the teenage girl with dark hair is giggling as she takes the lead in the dance with the orange-haired boy.
Dazai doesn’t react for what feels like an eternity.
But then he smiles—it’s light and soft around the edges, matching your own, and though that indecipherable look is still in his eyes, maybe even more wistful now, you can’t help but notice that his shoulders feel much less tense beneath your arms.
You consider it a win.
Dazai thinks that he might be in trouble.
His gaze lingers on you as you make your way across the room in the direction of where Atsushi and Kyouka are talking. Atsushi had waved you over after everyone finally made their way off of the dance floor, Dazai’s a bit insulted because Atsushi and Kyouka both made it abundantly clear that they only wanted you to join them, which Dazai thinks is quite rude but what does he know?
And Dazai’s heart is racing, his cheeks feel warm, his lips are tingling, and he wants to blame it on the alcohol but he knows deep down that the alcohol is not the issue, you are.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The thought rings through his head as he watches you walk away, eyes tracing your figure while an emotion that borders on longing wreaks havoc on his heart. His throat feels clogged with it, his lungs feel as if they’re filled with ash. You make it to Atsushi and Kyouka and Atsushi is immediately talking, animated and excited.
He thinks you look beautiful—you’re wearing a red dress and it clings as if it was made perfectly for you even though he’s pretty sure it’s a dress you’d found on Uniqlo’s clearance racks, he remembers you raving about your luck with it last week, and as you look over your shoulder in his direction, your eyes glitter as brightly as the rhinestones sitting on your collarbone, teeth gleaming as you smile at whatever Atsushi is saying to you. Dazai doesn’t dare to ponder what his protege could possibly be telling you to make you look at him like that, he doubts it’s anything good, but he finds that he doesn’t even really care because he thinks that he’d sacrifice all of his pride and dignity if it means you’d continue to smile like that in his direction.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
It was meant to be a little fun once he realized that you were just a civilian with no connection to the underground—a distraction, a way to gloat a bit to Kunikida because of course Dazai can pull a girl that fits almost every single one of the man’s ideals while Kunikida himself can hardly dream of it. He convinced himself that he was playing a long game by spending every waking second outside of work at your apartment, wooing you so that he could get a kick out of Kunikida’s inevitable explosion. He convinced himself that the fluttering in his chest whenever you laughed at him was just some strange heart palpitations that have arisen as a chronic consequence of one of his attempts, paying no mind to the fact that it only happens when he’s with you. He convinced himself that his face is warm whenever he’s around you because of the weather even when the temperature chills and the wind is bitter.
But it’s hard to convince himself now—his lips tingle from where they’d just barely been brushing yours, there are goosebumps on his skin where your fingers had once been, and the image of your smile is branded behind his eyelids, the gentleness of it and the understanding. And he thinks it’s ridiculous honestly, because he doesn’t think that there’s anyone left in the world that could possibly understand him, but since that first day he met you, you’ve seemed to be able to see through him in a way that few people have ever been able to, going out of your way to try to make him feel more comfortable in a way that no one ever has.
When did he start to…
He can’t even finish the thought because acknowledging it means that it’s real and if it’s real, then Dazai is in trouble because Dazai is not a man who is capable of love anymore—or maybe he still is capable of love, or something close to it at least, what he feels for the members of the Agency proves that at least, but he’s not a man who’s capable of being loved.
Not for who he is.
Even if you do fall for the facade he puts up—the smiling jester who laughs and jokes and never lets anyone close enough to realize that the only thing within him is a black hole that consumes anything and everything he touches—you’ll realize one day that the man you fell for is a fraud and you’d leave. Dazai has been left behind once, in a way that was so excruciating that it’d almost entirely killed off Dazai’s withered heart, and he’s decided that he’ll never be the one left behind again. He’ll run before people can leave him, and he’ll keep everyone else at arm’s length. He’s probably wrong anyway; he doesn’t care for you, not like that, the line between obsession and love has always been dangerously blurry for him. He-
“Atsushi’s taken to her pretty fast, don’t you think?”
Dazai starts at the sudden sound of Yosano coming to stand next to him, a half-empty glass of wine in hand. There’s a lazy smile on her face as she watches where you, Atsushi and Kyouka are all chatting—well, you and Atsushi, mostly, but Kyouka seems enraptured in whatever conversation the two of you are having.
“Yeah,” Dazai agrees, and his voice is a bit more rough than he meant for it to be. He pointedly takes another long swig of his drink. “That’s a first.”
“Isn’t it?” Yosano laughs loudly, drawing some attention to the pair. “A good sign, he’s got pretty good instincts.”
Yosano nudges his shoulder playfully but Dazai can hardly gather the energy to mask the sudden and unwelcome sorrow weighing on him. He manages, if only scarcely, but it’s unconvincing if the way Yosano’s brows furrowed has anything to say about it.
He speaks before she can question it in an attempt to distract her from her concerns. “She’s quite the catch, I know. My sweet bella, if only she would join me in a double suicide, I don’t think I could even dream up a better way to go.”
Yosano only waves off his comment, and Dazai knows that she’s right—maybe it’s his tiger senses or maybe it’s just his intuition, but Atsushi usually has a good eye for good people. His lack of reservation around you, when he was even reserved around the Agency at first, is certainly a nice sign, even if it is partly because he’s had a few glasses of champagne. But Dazai also just can’t find it in him to be pleased over it because yeah, it confirms that you’re a good person but Dazai, no matter how hard he tries to be, is not one and he’s not sure if anything will ever change that.
The thickness in his throat returns, his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he tries to regain some semblance of control over himself.
When he opens his eyes again, his gaze instinctively is drawn back toward you and-
Oh, Dazai thinks, his breath catching and lips instinctively turning up as he watches you start to giggle and lean into Kyouka, who must have finally joined the conversation, while looking over at him. There’s a hazy look in your eyes, courtesy of the constant stream of champagne Dazai has been supplying you with all night, but you can’t seem to draw your eyes off of Dazai and Dazai can’t seem to draw his from you.
Yosano nudges his shoulder again to try to get his attention but Dazai can’t look away from you so he hums as if to tell her that she has his attention—if only partly.
“Enjoy it, Dazai,” Yosano says quietly and Dazai finally glances over to her, catching the oddly coherent look in what should’ve been drunken, glazed over eyes. “Don’t sabotage this for yourself. Enjoy it.”
Dazai thinks maybe he was wrong about you being one of few to be able to see right through him. Maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks he is—or maybe it’s just his shared connection to Yosano through Mori that has her able to read him so easily. He avoids Yosano’s gaze as he looks back out into the crowds. Naturally, he finds himself seeking you out again, and you’re already looking at him. There’s a soft expression on your face as you admire him, not having realized he’d caught you staring yet, and you look as if you’re barely listening to what Atsushi is saying, and Dazai’s heart seizes because no one has ever looked at him that way before.
Well, he decides, maybe Yosano is right. He might as well enjoy it while it lasts. Once you realize that the front he shows you is just a mask to hide the rotting carcass that lies beneath, you’ll turn tail and run, and then everything can go back to normal again. He just can’t let himself get more attached than he already is—that way it won’t hurt when you leave.
Dazai catches his lips turning up as he watches you start giggling at something Atsushi and Kyouka say, Dazai’s heart does that damning flutter again, and immediately, he averts his gaze.
Still, he thinks, he’s far too sober for this.
Later in the night, when people have begun to say their goodbyes and you start to make your way to the restrooms to freshen up before heading out, Dazai corners you against the wall of the hall leading out of the event venue. You don’t even hear him following you or notice his presence until you feel his fingers snatch your wrist as he yanks you back toward him.
Your eyes widen but you’re able to bite back the yelp that nearly escapes your lips when you recognize his dark eyes looking down at you, mischievous and glittering beneath the soft lights.
“Do I get my kiss now?” Dazai breathes out. The wall behind you is cool against your back, and you can hear the chatter from the event down the hall as the event begins to come to an end. You part your lips to respond to him, with what? You aren’t entirely sure, but it doesn’t seem to matter because no words leave your lips regardless. “The party’s over, no need to worry about messing up that pretty makeup now, bella.”
“Only one,” you finally say, voice a bit more throaty than you would have liked but it’s hard to concentrate with Dazai’s fingers grazing your hips and his body brushing yours. You wonder if the man has ever learned about the concept of personal space—you severely doubt it. “Make it good, and maybe you can have a second.”
The smile on Dazai’s lips is nothing short of sinful as he brings one hand up to cup the side of your neck, thumb running along your jawline and fingers entangling with your hair. He doesn’t waste a second as he dips his head down to press his lips against yours, they’re warm and soft, and taste distinctly like the champagne that had been served earlier in the night. You let out a quiet noise of surprise against his lips, eyes fluttering shut.
The kiss is tamer than you expected it to be—he makes no move to deepen it, lips moving slowly and gently against yours as if he’s hesitant to take it any further, but Dazai Osamu has never been hesitant about anything in all of the times you've encountered him. Your hands rest on his forearms as he keeps you pressed up against the wall, unconcerned with the fact that all of his coworkers and many government officials are naught but half a hallway away.
You think to yourself, a bit embarrassed, that you might be able to spend an eternity kissing Dazai Osamu and never grow tired of it, and you wonder why it's taken you so long just to give in to his request from nearly a month ago.
You aren’t sure if ten seconds, ten minutes or ten hours have passed by the time he finally separates his lips from yours. He doesn’t move far away at all—his nose still nudging yours, his soft lips still brushing your own, he leaves no space at all between the two of you as he asks: “Good enough for a second?”
Your lips curve up into a smile, eyes meeting his dark ones as you look up at him through your lashes. Though, you have half a mind to agree, your previous thoughts still ringing through your head, you can't help the teasing words that spilled from your lips: “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll sleep on it and let you know my answer the next time we see each other.”
The laugh that Dazai lets out is breathless.
“Deal.”
#dazai x reader#dazai osamu x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x you#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you
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i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!
no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them
(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)
Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)
cw: weed, mention of transactional sex
dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers.
“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?”
You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it.
Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel.
“Same as usual?”
“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash.
You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.
“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.”
You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.
“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.”
“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.”
You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch.
“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” you say.
“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?”
You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.”
Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?”
A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either.
“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.”
You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.
“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.”
“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.”
“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?”
You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.”
Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.”
You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex.
“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say.
He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.”
You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.”
“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?”
“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.”
“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.”
“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.”
His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.
Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you.
“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?”
You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.”
“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.”
For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them.
“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…”
Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.”
He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye.
“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.”
You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something.
“A date?” you ask.
“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.”
“And you…don’t want to have sex.”
“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.”
You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.”
“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”
You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?”
“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?”
“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.”
“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”
#dealer!eddie munson#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x self insert#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson blurb#stranger things s4#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fandom#stranger things x reader#tw drugs#tw weed
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I love you guys, so for WIP Wednesday, you get the first two and a half pages of my unnamed, but currently named "Steve Makes Eddie Apologize to Lucas for Not Postponing Hellfire for the Championship Game" fic. Uh, I don't think there's any warnings, but here we go.
You can read it here on Tumblr
Or you can read it here on AO3
———
“So, you and Eddie, huh?”
Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he's been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.
“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.
“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”
He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”
Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”
For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.
“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.
There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.
“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.
Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.
“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.
Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.
Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.
After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.
“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.
———
#stranger things#Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair#steddie#steve harrington#lucas sinclair#mentioned eddie munson#eventual angst and hurt/comfort#angst and hurt/comfort
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i never thought you’d happen to me - 3
part one / part two
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. fluff, teeny tiny bit of angst maybe? allusion to, but no actual, smut. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: 2.6k
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card. fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think!
As you pull up to their house, the soft glow from the few lights still on inside light up the windows along the front face. Bucky parks as you unbuckle and meets you as you open the passenger door, Wolfie in your hand as you stand.
You make your way up their porch quickly before Bucky knocks softly on the front door. It opens not too much later as Steve greets you both, holding Linc with one arm as he carries the still pouting boy, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder and chest as his arms hold onto his Uncle as comfortably as he can.
The second he registers its you guys, his bright blue eyes go wide, turning to Steve with a look of surprise, his mouth parting open like he can’t believe his own eyes, before he turns back to you both and stretches his arms out to Bucky, hitting Steve a bit as he does, but not seeming to register it in his excitement. Steve chuckles as he hands him over to Bucky, who takes him in his arms readily.
“Hi, Daddy,” Linc greets as he cuddles into Bucky’s chest, looking like he’s about to pass out any second now.
“Hey, buddy,” he smiles, “We brought you Wolfie.”
“Don’t need Wolfie,” he shakes his head, burying his face in Bucky’s shirt. “You, Daddy.”
You see the moment it clicks in Bucky’s mind that all Linc really wanted was him, and you can’t help but smile at the gleam in his eyes as he hugs his son tighter.
“Here, come in,” Steve tells you both, urging you inside. “I think Ellie’s sleeping, already,” he continues as he leads you to the kid’s room. Peeking inside, you can see her sleeping soundly, the spot near her, reserved for Licoln, obviously empty. You stare for a moment longer before Bucky steps beside you.
“We’re gonna try and go to sleep now, okay?” he tells Linc, who nods softly.
As Bucky enters the room, you find yourself alone with Steve in the hallway, who is staring at you quizzically.
“What?” you ask him.
“Nothin’,” he brushes off. “It’s just..” he stops himself, thinking through what he wants to say before he continues carefully. “Are you guys alright?”
You look at him like a deer in headlights.
“Yeah,” you breathe with a bit too fervent of a nod. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, “Just want to make sure. You guys have been acting odd all day. And look, if it’s a secret or something, that’s fine.. But, you know you can tell us anything. I just want to make sure everything’s alright,” he says sincerely, looking at you in the way only he can, a trust and understanding in his eyes that makes you want to come clean just like that. On instinct, you find yourself opening your mouth to confess your situation, but catch yourself before letting the absurdity slip.
“It is a secret,” you say, smiling through a grimace. “But, I promise, we’re good.”
He looks at you thoughtfully once more before conceding with a nod. “Okay,” he says before offering you a small smile.
The door creaks open a bit wider once again and you expect to find Bucky alone, coming out from getting Linc down.
So when he opens the door even wider and walks out with a twin in each arm, a sorry smile on his lips as he meets your eye, you can’t help but scoff in amusement.
Ellie is snoozing against him as Lincoln holds onto Wolfie like his life depends on it. His eyes are tired but he fights it still.
“I tried,” Bucky defends himself, “but Ellie woke up and they sweet talked me.”
“Can’t blame you,” Steve laughs, “Poppy suckered me into extra s’mores earlier with one puppy dog look alone, I can’t imagine what double toddler pouts would get outta me.”
Bucky laughs in turn, a look of pure happiness in his eyes as he watches his best friend in such simple joy talking about his kids. Steve is happy. Nat is happy. And you, he thinks, you’re happy too. He doesn’t know how or when you all luck out on this, but just knowing that this is the future that awaits him, he’s excited to go back to the present so he can live out every moment of this with you.
Ellie’s eyes flutter at the sound of your laugh at Steve’s story and she gingerly picks her head up, her eyes looking around. When she spots you, she lets her eyes close again as a smile graces her precious face, one arm blindly reaching out in your direction.
You see her and gently take her from Bucky’s hold, holding her tightly against you as she nuzzles into you. Her hand is petting you gently, like she’s ensuring you’re there and you feel her. You smile at the affectionate gesture until her small voice makes its way to your ears.
“Momma,” she sighs sleepily as she cuddles into your neck before her movements eventually stop and she’s sleeping once again.
And that was it. Her sweet, soft voice did it. You had to turn away from her as best you could as you tried not to choke on your cry - not wanting to wake her up and alarm her as your eyes welled and a tear slipped, your hand running up and down her back soothingly.
You could see the concern written all over Steve’s face as he looked at you, “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just been feeling really emotional lately,” you try to write off the sudden display of emotions taking over you.
“Oh. Oh,” he realizes. He nods, almost dumbly, “right, right.”
You know what he’s putting together in his mind, but you don’t have the energy to correct him. That can be a problem for future you to tamper down. You sniffle, trying to collect yourself as you hold Ellie securely in your arms. You look to Bucky with an unspoken question.
“I think we’re gonna take ‘em home, this little guy doesn’t wanna sleep tonight,” Bucky says, patting Linc’s back gently. “But thank you guys for watching them today.”
“Yeah, of course. And hey, we can pick them up on our way out tomorrow if you guys still wanted the day. Poppy and Al have been looking forward to it all week.”
“That’d be great,” you nod with a smile. “Thank you, Steve.”
“Anytime.”
You all walk to the front door and part with hugs before you and Bucky get the sleepy toddlers buckled in their seats. This time is much easier than it was this morning now that they’re thoroughly exhausted and not wiggling around like worms.
You shut the doors gently before getting in yourselves, Bucky driving you all back to the house in a peaceful quiet.
—
It’s easy getting them out of the car, each of you holding one as you enter back inside.
You and Bucky carry them to their room, thinking they’re finally settled, but as you try to put them down in their beds, neither of them will let go of you guys. Ellie is clearly still sleepy as she huffs annoyedly at you for trying to leave her when she’s so comfy, and Linc is awake again as he holds onto Bucky and Wolfie.
“Big bed, daddy,” he mumbles, looking at him with those pleading eyes.
Bucky looks at you, finding you holding Ellie close once again, not having put her down after her huffing. You shrug and watch as he nods, turning back to grab Lincoln.
“Alright,” he sighs, “come on, buddy. But we have to go to bed now, got it?”
“Mhm,” he nods happily, hugging Bucky’s neck.
You smile at the scene before making your way to the bedroom, thankful that all of you are already in pajamas as you sit on the bed with Ellie.
“I’m gonna lay down with you in a second, baby,” you reassure her quietly before setting her down, her head on a pillow near the center of the bed.
You take off your shoes as Bucky puts Lincoln down next to Ellie and does the same. You look at the twins, Lincoln finally letting his eyes close as his breaths slow and steady and sleep takes him at last. Bucky walks over to you and turns your face to him gently. You touch his wrist gingerly as you look in his eyes, stepping in closer. Being so close has never felt so right.
“What time did you fall asleep last night?” you ask him softly.
“Around midnight.”
“Me too,” you nod.
“Guess we still have a few hours to enjoy this,” he says, dropping his hand from your cheek in favor of pulling you closer by your waist, looking over with a bittersweet smile to the twins on the bed.
“Yeah,” you agree, “...and then what?”
“And then… we go back. Start living this all out in real time. Enjoy every second,” he says, leaning down to kiss you gently.
“Not the worst way to start forever,” you muse.
“Forever, huh?” he asks with a smirk.
“As long as we both shall live,” you nod with a smile of your own.
He titters before kissing you again, your lips moving softly against his. “Who woulda thought.”
“Mmm… everyone but us, apparently,” you laugh breathily before brushing his lips with yours once more. You move to pull away but Bucky keeps you where you are, kissing you a little more firmly as his hands lightly squeeze your chubby waist. Finally, you part for air, his forehead falling to yours as you take a second to catch your breath, licking your lips a touch.
A mumble followed by a huff sounds from the bed, catching both your attentions. You turn and see Ellie moving around before she speaks, more clearly this time.
“Mommy,” she eeks out, voice groggy with sleep as she rolls over.
“I guess this is goodnight,” you smile softly.
“Goodnight,” he says, giving you a soft smile of his own, tightening his hold on you for a second as he admires you still before him. “I’ll find you in the morning,” he promises.
You nod, the thought sending your tummy fluttering. “Okay.”
You slowly part and walk around to your sides of the bed, getting in carefully so as not to wake the twins. As you settle in, Ellie senses you near and crawls to you, hugging you as she settles into your warmth. You look over and see Linc already rolled into Bucky in turn. Your eyes meet Bucky’s then as you share a smile. You scooch closer to them, and he meets you near the middle - the four of you comfortable as can be under the comforter.
“Call me crazy,” he whispers, “but I’m looking forward to this already.”
You huff out a laugh at that before shaking your head lightly, “‘S’not that crazy,” you admit, sounding almost shy to yourself at the confession before glancing over at him again.
He looks so happy, his brilliant eyes shining even through the darkened room. “Goodnight, doll,” he offers again.
“Goodnight, Buck,” you whisper back.
With the twins cuddled up between you both, it isn’t long before all of you are sleeping soundly.
—-
It’s quiet when you wake up.
And cold.
You hate that.
You slowly blink your eyes open, finding yourself in your room back at the tower once again. You check the clock. 3:02am.
Your mind is racing and a weird feeling is growing in your stomach. You quickly recognize it as anxiety as you try to calm yourself down. The one thought that is at the forefront of your mind, over everything, is this: Was it real?
You sit up and take a second to orient yourself in the dark before getting up. You don’t bother with the lights, you go straight for the door to your room.
You pull it open as quietly as you can manage before walking into the hallway. It’s dark out here, too, but not pitch black. The glow from the soft lights down the hall offer you some sight before you follow them. No one is in the living room when you get there, though, the lights had just been left on apparently. You sigh, still struggling to comprehend if you’d just woken up from a very real seeming dream or if you really had just been in the future for 24 hours. You turn to start back down the hallway again. As you get to the entryway, you see a figure coming down, stopping you in your tracks as you try to see who it is. You step closer after a moment, too, curiosity eating at you - yelling at you to find out who it is.
Another step and then the figure becomes more clear. When you get to the point where you can both see each other, you both still and idle a moment - both of you seeming to be equally unsure.
Bucky takes a step to you, testing the waters. And you copy his movement. You stare at one another a second, your breathing getting heavier.
Suddenly, you lose your patience. You can’t take it any longer, you muster your courage and with a deep, albeit shaky breath, you walk to him again. He moves just as swiftly as you now, more confident in his path before meeting you in the middle of the hallway.
No words pass your lips, the moment you’re close enough to touch, Bucky has you flush against him as he crashes his lips into yours. You’re pulling him to you before he just lifts you off your feet, forcing you to hold onto him - not that you really minded all that much. Your arms are wound around his neck, your fingers in his hair as your thick thighs are around him, his hands holding you with no effort at all. The kiss is intent and fervent and long overdue here. He doesn’t let up and neither do you - every emotion you’d been holding back finally spilling as you lose yourself in him.
You have to break the kiss eventually, breathing heavier than you had been as you try to collect yourself as you press your forehead to his. Bucky holds you tightly, refusing to let you go as his eyes close - a shudder you almost didn’t notice passing over him.
“I love you,” he confesses quietly, almost pained. “‘M sorry if that’s too soon, but I need you to know. I do.”
“Bucky,” you utter, touching his cheek gently, urging him to look at you. You shake your head lightly, “don’t be sorry.”
You kiss him again, gentler now.
“I love you,” you breathe softly against his lips.
He smiles into your kiss, a sense of relief coming over you both as he hugs you tightly before he sets you down on your feet.
You look at him with a smile of your own, taking his hand in yours before you slowly start down the hall again.
“My room or yours?” you ask without pretense, leading the way.
“My bed’s bigger,” he says, sweeping you off your feet and carrying you bridal style down the hall. “Hope you like it, because I don’t plan on letting you leave it for the next 24 hours. At least.
“We’ve got a lot of time to make up for. And a lot of future to catch up to,” he smiles as he carries you across the threshold before setting you gently down on his bed.
“Hm,” you simper, easily grabbing his hand and pulling him down on top of you, the sight of him above you sending that growing ever familiar thrill of anticipation through you, “we should really get started then.”
#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky x curvy!reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fluff#dad!bucky#mom!reader#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky x plus size!reader#bucky barnes x avenger!reader
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here we go again - pt.1
pt. 2 , pt.3
jude x fem!reader , trent x fem!reader
empty promise after another leaves you walking in the cold. alone. on valentines day. youre never speaking to another player again.
word count : 1K+
watch it : mild fluff, heavy on the angst, situationships, toxic relationships, Jude is kinda an ass in this one sorry, not very happy ending
happy valentines day LOL
—--
you and Jude have a complex history, complex relationship.
you aren't officially together but at the same time you are exclusive. it's odd, but it's what works at the moment, (even if you wish he would just grow the balls to make you his already.)
you get he's a busy guy, top player both club and international. you aren't going to force him to choose you or make him get with you while his career is soon about to peak.
your wishes for more soon fade into the background as he presses gentle kisses into your skin. he called you a few hours prior, wondering if you wanted to keep him company while he binges movies and orders you a pizza. you said yes, maybe a little foolishly. but it's hard to stay away from him.
he's addicting. maybe it's a rush of being with someone whose whole existence is so grand. maybe it's the fact of knowing you have what millions of others crave for. you don't know, you try not to read into the intricacies. bad habit.
so here you are, face pressed up against his chest while you lay side by side on this stupidly large couch, action movie playing, your pizza done, belly full and body warm.
"what are you thinking about love?" he mumbles.
"you." you shrug.
"me ?" he chuckles.
you hum, wiggling deeper into the pile of blankets.
"i've been thinking about you. and us." he confesses, almost shy. the movie playing in front of you has long fizzled out of your attention.
hey might as well rip the band aid off.
"me too," you hum, "why aren't we official again?"
you feel him sigh dramatically, "because my career."
you squint. there goes the same lousy explanation. "you could put more i don't know, thought into us."
he shifts under the blankets , "valentine's day is coming up. dont worry love i have it all planned out." he assures you.
"oh yeah ?" you tease
"just you wait, the best valentine's day ever." he kisses the top of your head soundly.
—--
worst fucking valenties day of your life. you don't remember being more livid a day in your life. you cant remember the last time so much pure rage burned through you, hot enough to hurt. you didn't think it was humanly possible to clench your fist so tight youve dug into your palm hard enough to draw blood.
your head hurts, your legs hurt, you think your arm is starting to bruise from where you were shoved into a table on "accident" but what would Jude know. he was so busy taking pictures with models and laughing at corny jokes while you kept yourself company. texting and calling didnt work and he didn't even try to give you any attention the whole night, you can't keep doing this with him.
"you can't just run off-" Jude shouts from somewhere behind you.
"or what Jude. or fucking what." you seeth, not bothering to face him, storming out into the night.
It's your fault for trusting him all those nights ago. your fault for falling for the same shit over and over.
he sprints to catch up to you, "i don't know why you're being like this."
you stop dead in your tracks, "oh i don't know, let's think. you didn't tell me your escorts would be there. and to top it all fucking off they have to nerve to be on my ass the whole night, not letting me get anywhere near you even through we walked in together?"
he doesn't respond and you half the mind not to punch the shit out of him, walking further away from the club you just came from, heels clanking against the sidewalk so hard it hurts, pulling on your dress so you dont trip and fall. maybe you should let it go so you can fall flat on your face. that would be a better ending to the night than seeing his face. silly stupid you thinking this would work.
"happy fucking valentines day huh Jude. you take me to a damn club, you ignore me the whole night, and you spend all your time surrounded by other women who might as well just suck you off right then and there." you yell, hell if anyone hears. you want them too, you want him to be as humiliated as you feel.
Bellinghams date thrown away the moment you step inside, ignored and tossed for some common whores. oh you can't wait to see where your face ends up online after tonight. you can see the headlines now.
he grabs your arm, making you face him, "love listen-"
"no, you dont get to fucking do that anymore. you cant keep sweet talking your way out of things when you fuck up. why can't you just pretend to care" your voice shakes, you can feel tears brimming in your eyes.
"i'm not trying to talk my way out of it, i'm trying to explain." he tries.
you yank your arm out of his grip, "i'm not listening anymore, im done. all i asked was one day for us, just valentines day to make things work. and you showed me you dont care enough for that."
"please, let me fix this." he pleads.
"its too late."
"i wanted things to work so fucking bad, and you humiliated me Jude. i imagined a nice dinner, hell i would have settled for take out and a few kisses. that's how bad i want things to work, that's how bad i wanted you." you tremble.
"please my darling. let's talk about this. come back inside and i'll show everyone that you are mine," he holds a hand out to you, waiting. silently pleading with each breath he takes.
the street lights dance across his skin as for a moment you almost believe him. for a moment you think about stepping back inside with him. you can't do that to yourself, not again.
"no, iim done. don't follow me, don't call me dont text nothing. i want nothing more to do with you." your firm, final. swallowing the lump that builds in your throat, youd be damned if he sees you cry after this fucking shit show.
he stops in his tracks at this, not bothering to try and stop you.
it hurts more than it should to leave him behind you, but you honest to god can not keep up with his lifestyle.
all those articles and rumors were right you suppose, he's an arrogant stuck up bastard with too much money to know what to do with, too cocky for his own good and destroys anything good that comes his way. you hope he's happy without you.
#jude x you#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham x reader#jude x reader#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham blurb#jude bellingham one shot#footballer angst#jude bellingham angst#footballer x reader#footballer fic#footballer one shot#footballer imagine#footballer x y/n#footballer x you
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What they do for their sick s/o who can’t leave the ship
Luffy, Zoro, Usopp, Robin, Franky, Brook
CW: SFW. This is just fluff. no drugs, no alcohol, no smokes, just tea and candy. Comfort. They go above and beyond for you.
Scenario: After weeks at sea, you finally reached an island, but you were unable to leave the ship. You had the flu, and because it came with a cough, fever and chills, you were not allowed to leave your bed. Your s/o went on the island to get some goods, and maybe they have a surprise for you.
Read part 2 here: Sanji, Nami, Law, Penguin & Shachi, Kid, Killer
Monkey D. Luffy
- He was sad that he couldn’t take you on an adventure.
- He even tried to steal you away from Chopper, who was keeping you company, in a disguise and a wheelchair, but he got caught.
- At first, Luffy explored the whole island, caused some trouble, stole some food and was finally done with his adventure. It’s one of the smaller islands, so it didn’t take him long.
- Then he tried to think of a cure for you. If he was sick, he would probably like some meat and he would be cured instantly. What did you like… Oh! Candy!
- He went to the nearest store and bought all their candy. It wasn’t that he didn't know what you liked. He just wanted to be safe than sorry. Because if you wanted more when you're back on the open sea, you'd both be sad. Yeah, all the candy should be enough and if there are leftovers, he will gladly volunteer to eat them.
- "I bought you candy! Since you like them, you will be cured in no time!" Luffy explained with his biggest smile. You were dumbfounded by his explanation and all the candy was piled up beside your bed. You chuckled at his words. Candy and smiles. This man was all you needed.
- Later Luffy showered you with kisses while you both ate some candy. “Don’t kiss my mouth, idiot. I don’t want you to get sick, too!” - "But I can't get sick. I'm rubber and very immune since the incident with the poisonous guy." He smiled proudly and you just hugged him a little tighter.
Roronoa Zoro
- He was lost.
- Yes, he'd promised to stay close and not get lost. Now he was standing on a hill on the other side of the island, wondering how he got here in the first place. A second ago, he'd been on the beach next to the Sunny looking for a shell you'd like and now this.
- On his way back, he was looking for something to comfort you, but he didn't know what or where.
- Just as he was about to give up and ask someone, he passed a store that sold pillows.
- The saleswoman recommended the heated ones for a sick partner. He chose a green, fluffy one, with a removable heating pad. Now all he had to do was get back to the ship.
- It was just before sunset, when he returned. Everyone was annoyed that he had wandered off, but he ignored them all and went to prepare your gift.
- As he handed you your gift, the pillow was already heated. "Oh wow! Thank you Zoro, I love it. Did you heat it?" your eyes sparkled with joy. "...I had some help...from that damn curly brow." He admitted hesitantly. "You asked Sanji?" You were surprised that he asked him, but you didn’t push the matter. You let him sit behind you and snuggled up to him.
- You were so proud of him and so grateful, that he had gotten you something. You kissed his cheek lightly and he wrapped his arms around you, as you both drifted off to sleep, a warm pillow in your lap.
Usopp
- He was just unlucky. He wanted to stay on the ship so badly. No Marines, no tasks, just watching you and the ship sounded so good. But the odds were against him. Nami gave him a list of herbs to collect for Chopper, to stock the medicine cabinet and only he was able to gather them.
- You waved him off and told him, that 'only the great Captain Usopp' could find the herbs. Your words boosted his ego and his strides became stable and proud.
- He will go around the island and collect the herbs along with small things that caught his eye, like stones or leaves or abandoned things.
- When he returns, he will show them to you and tell you how 'the mighty Captain Usopp got his hands on this treasure. How he fought beasts and giant ants and even tricked the devil himself to collect all the treasures and herbs.
Nico Robin
- Who were you to deny Robin an expedition on the island? She sat restlessly beside you and you would have loved to join her, but you would have been of no help to her.
- You talked to her, and she eventually went off on her own. You were sure that she would find places on the island that no one had seen in decades, and you were right, when she came home in the evening.
- Robin would tell you everything she had discovered in the far corners of the island and you loved to listen. Her stories were always captivating you and her voice just added to that.
- The smile on both of your faces was proof enough that the day was great, even if you stayed in bed and cured your sickness.
- When you thought that was all, she handed you an eternal pod for this island. “I found it in the ruins and it still works. There is a huge waterfall I would like to show you one day.”
Franky
- Franky saw how sad you were, that you had to stay in bed, so he locked himself in and crafted something for you before he left for the island.
- He takes the little robot he crafted around the island. At every sightseeing place, or just where he came along and thought of you, he took a picture of himself and the robot in front of the place. After his sightseeing tour, he took his time to prepare your gift, before coming to see you.
- He knocked and came in with a bright smile and a small box. “Suuuper evening! I have something for you.”
- He handed you the box excitedly and sat down next to your bed. You opened the lid and looked at the little robot. A smile spread on your face. “It’s great, Franky, thank you.” – “I was thinking of you as I made it. Look, I even took pictures.” You investigated the box again and took out the photos. “So the two of you went on a sightseeing tour without me?” You chuckled and looked through the photos with Franky, while he told you about his island adventures.
Brook
- He wanted to stay and keep you company over a nice cup of tea, but you insisted that he go to the island. He had been in the fog for so long and you would never keep him from seeing the world.
- So he went for a walk, but it was not as entertaining without you.
- When he came across a field of flowers, he picked a bouquet of your favorite colors and flowers. On his way back to the Sunny he stopped at a tea and spice shop. He had an excellent taste in tea and it would help you get better soon. So he chose a tea that would be to your liking and help with your sickness.
- “Yooohohoho! I’m back!” He chimed as he entered the room. He handed you the flowers and placed two cups of tea on your nightstand. “Oh wow, how lovely, thank you.” You smiled at the flowers and placed them on the nightstand. “I'll have to get a vase for them.” – “You stay in bed. I’ll get the vase. Meanwhile, I got this nice tea just for you, you should try it. The right cup is yours.” You took the cup and inhaled the aromatic scent while Brook got a vase for your flowers. He told you stories about the island while you both drank your tea and smiled. The tea was delicious, and his stories warmed your heart.
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#one piece#one piece headcanons#one piece x reader#one piece x you#gn reader#monkey d. luffy x reader#roronoa zoro x reader#usopp x reader#nico robin x reader#franky x reader#brook x reader#monkey d. luffy#roronoa zoro#nico robin#brook one piece#cyborg franky#usopp#strawheart-pirate.writing
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Kinktober 19
🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞
Kinktober Masterlist
A/N: This prompt felt like the perfect time to do a sort of part 2 for my Part of The Family request that I did way back when. You don’t need to read that to understand this though. I had a ton of ideas for who I wanted to use for this prompt and in the end, I decided to try stretching my wings again and venturing into unfamiliar territory with this pairing. I really like how this one turned out so I hope you guys enjoy it!
Pairing: Tonowari x Fem!Metkayina!Reader x Ronal
Warnings: Heat Cycle, Breeding, Fingering, P in V, Creampie, Cum Play, Spit (kinda a little), Throuple, Thigh Riding (a little)
Life with Tonowari and Ronal proved to be quite the change for you, but a nice one. They were warm and welcoming to you. The two of them absolutely adored you. They helped you with anything and everything you could ever need. You were admittedly worried about how the kids would respond to having you around, but they acclimated to your presence quickly. Tsireya was as bright and receptive to you as you’ve always known her to be. She would ask you to help braid her hair and she would recount her days to you while Ronal sat nearby prepping food. It was always a quaint scene. Ao’nung was a bit more standoffish in the beginning and you didn’t blame him for it. You understood his hesitancy so you didn’t push. But a simple nudge at asking him to go fishing with you seemed to help break the ice and eased some of that tension for the two of you.
It felt odd to not be on your own anymore, but having a family was nice. It was comforting to have them around, but you still couldn’t help but have this nagging feeling scratching in the back of your head that said something was still missing. But what more could you possibly ask for?
You sigh a bit to yourself next to Ronal and she immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor.
“What troubles you, paskalin?” she inquires using one of her fingers under your chin to turn you to look at her.
“Nothing, tìyawn. I think I’m just feeling a bit restless today.” You try to push away the gnawing feeling in your head and put on your best front. But your poker face is no match for Ronal’s scrutinizing gaze.
She hums to herself looking over your face. She uses her fingers under your chin to turn your face this way and that way studying you. She leans in close to you and holds her face in the crook of your neck. It feels like all your hair stands on end feeling her so close like this. She breathes in your scent deeply closing her eyes and leaning back from you again. When she opens her eyes to look at you, there’s a realization that hits her.
“Your heat is approaching.”
“What? How do you know?” you had trouble even recognizing the signs of your own heat so you were completely shocked as to how she’d know.
“I am Tsahik. We can predict these kind of things. You have all the signs. It should be here in a day’s time.” She says finally dropping her hold on your face. “We must prepare.”
“Prepare how?” you ask.
She just gives you a warm smile and kisses your forehead, “Do not worry yourself over that. Tonowari and I will take care of everything.”
You flush at her touch, but nod your head in understanding.
…
You’ve never had a partner to help you through your heats before. Every time you would just be left to your own devices and pathetic attempts to satiate that endless hunger that swirled in your core. This was all new to you and you weren’t sure what to expect.
Waking up this morning, you had that all too familiar lightheaded feeling and the unwelcome pain in your womb aching for relief. You try to blink your vision into focus, but to no avail. You instinctively curl into the warm body of your mate in front of you. Her skin smells like pasuk and fresh ground herbs and it makes you whine under her. You almost don’t even notice how your hips are grinding and rolling against her hip offering you the tiniest taste of relief.
When Ronal starts to seep back into consciousness, the first thing her mind registers is the thick fog of your pheromones that she’s buried in. Then, she can hear your soft whimpers next to her and she feels how you’re desperately trying to find release against her side. She smiles to herself and turns on her side towards you and holds you close against her.
“Good morning to you too, paskalin.” She says groggily with sleep still slightly slurring her words.
“Ronal…it hurts…I-I need…” you whimper out. She strokes the top of your head and lightly shushes you.
“Shhh shhhh, it is alright. I know. Just let me take care of the kids quickly.” She whispers about to pull out of your grip, but you cling onto her even more dying for that skin-to-skin contact.
“Don’t leave me, please” you pout out your lip hoping to convince her to stay. She only offers you a sympathetic smile. She gently places her hands on your shoulder and hip and pushes you gently to your other side.
“Tonowari will be here with you until I return. I’ll be right back.” She kisses your cheek before swiftly standing and making her way to the part of your marui where the kids were still sleeping. Meanwhile, you immediately seek out the warmth of your other mate’s body. He lay still sleeping soundly completely unaware of how you’ve wiggled your way into his arms and hiked your leg up over his hips. You can feel his half-hard length pushing against you and it’s driving you wild. Your body is screaming for it; dying to be filled. You can’t stop your hand from trailing down his body and palming at his thick cock through his tewng. You can practically feel your slick racing out of you.
Even though he’s still asleep, Tonowari stirs feeling your touch and his body still reacts to you as normal. His hands move on their own down to your ass and automatically squeeze at your softness. Ronal walks back in after sending the kids away and smiles fondly at the sight. She leans down to Tonowari and speaks, “Tonowari, it is time.” He finally regains consciousness and makes his best attempt to register what is happening.
“Wari…please…” you whine in his arms. He nuzzles his face into your neck pressing kisses here and there.
“Finally. We have been waiting for this.” He says so lowly you almost miss it.
“You have?”
“Of course. We’ve been waiting so that we can have a child with you.” Ronal says holding your face and running her thumb over your lips.
“Would you like that?” Tonowari asks between taking in heady breaths of your scent.
The idea settles in your mind for a moment. A baby. They wanted to have a baby with you. And it slides into place in your brain. That’s exactly what you’ve been wanting without realizing it. Of course, Tsireya and Ao’nung were wonderful and you cared for them as if they were your own, but you still longed to carry a child too.
“Yes…Yes, please. I want it. So bad.” You finally answer them. The grins on their faces are identical hearing your answer. Clothes immediately go flying as they take turns stripping you down and themselves. Ronal crawls her way behind you and snakes her arms around to grope at your breasts and cup your drooling pussy. Somehow in your dizzy state, you manage to turn around and face her to crash your lips against hers. She smiles against your lips at how eager you are and her hands continue to explore your body. Tonowari slowly strokes himself while he watches you climb on top of Ronal and sit your pussy on the plush of her thigh. The contact pushes your mind further into the haze and you start to grind your hips back and forth against her leg. Your hands mindlessly roam up and down her body under you until your fingers find purchase between her own slick folds. Your lips part begging for her to come in and she happily obliges licking into your mouth. She greedily swallows the saliva that runs off the corner of your mouth into hers. Your fingers slide easily through her arousal flowing freely out between her legs. Her hands squeeze at your ass while your tail thrashes behind you.
You pull your lips away from her to breathe temporarily. Ronal takes the opportunity to nuzzle at your neck and lick long, wet stripes up your neck.
“Ronal…ppl-please…it hurts…” you sob already trying to gain some friction by grinding your cunt against her thigh that was now covered in your slick.
“Shhh paskalin. I know, I know.” She coos at you hooking her legs under yours to hold them open. She uses her hands on your ass to slide them lower and spread your lips open, putting you fully on display for Tonowari who was now fully hard behind you.
“You heard her, Wari. Our precious mate needs your help.” Her voice drips sex with each word.
“Yes, yes, tanhì. We will make it all better for you.” He says steadily stroking himself as he perches himself behind you and lines his dick up with your weeping pussy.
Your mouth flies open and Ronal is under you kissing her way down to the dip between your breasts as Tonowari makes room for his thick cock inside of you. Inch by inch, he stretches you to your limits. The combination of his tip prodding against your cervix and two pairs of hands freely trailing over your body wherever they please makes your thoughts feel incoherent, let alone your words.
“Ahh..mmf!” little moans and mewls are punched out of your throat by the push of Tonowari’s hips into yours. His large stature easily overpowers your much smaller one and he would’ve quickly knocked you over had it not been for Ronal holding you in place while your mate ruts into your throbbing pussy. With the angle he’s holding your hips, it makes your clit brush and bump against Ronal’s giving you another point of stimulation. Your eyes roll and your tongue hangs out of your mouth with your panting breaths. A long string of saliva rolls from the tip of your tongue down into Ronal’s awaiting mouth and she moans at your taste.
Tonowari sucks in a sharp breath while his chin falls to his chest. “Ah! Hng…so tight, tanhì”, he grunts out.
Any other day, having him pound into you so harshly would be painful for you, but in the thick of your heat, it only makes you cry out in pleasure.
“Haah! Ah…p-please! Inside! W-want you to cum inside!”
Ronal moans under you before grabbing you by the back of your head and bringing your lips back to hers. The constant knocking of your hips into hers is about to send her over the edge. Her nails dig into your skin leaving deep purple crescents as her coil snaps and she comes undone before your eyes. In the midst of her high, she completely sucks your tongue into her mouth muffling the sweet sounds she’s making.
Watching Ronal buck her hips up towards you while she rides out her high is intoxicating and makes your walls flutter around Tonowari’s cock.
“Haah, going to cum. Gonna give you a baby.”
“Mhm! Mhm! Oh, fuck, I’m going to cum! Just like that!”
With only a few more hard thrusts, your mind tumbles over the cliff into blissful emptiness. Your whole body convulses as Tonowari paints the inside of your womb with thick ropes of his seed. He leans forward resting his head on your back for a minute while you all regain your breath. When he pulls out and falls onto his back, Ronal replaces his dick with her fingers ensuring to push back in any of his cum that started to seep out.
You collapse onto her chest and she uses her free hand to stroke the top of your head lovingly and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
“Do not be long, Tonowari. We must ensure that it takes.” She says pushing her fingers further into your cunt making you clench around them.
Suddenly, your hips start to push back against her hand forcing more of her into you. That fire that was temporarily extinguished is already starting to reignite deep in your core.
“Mmmm…hurts…” you complain from between her chest.
“I know. We will take care of you. Won’t we?” Ronal gushes at you.
“Of course.” Tonowari appears behind you again and he flips you over onto your back lining up with you again.
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#avatar#avatar the way of water#avatar fic#awow#avatar smut#tonowari#tonowari smut#tonowari x you#tonowari x reader#awow smut#tonowari x ronal x reader#ronal smut#tonowari x reader x ronal#ronal
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i had sex with a demon!?
incubus!nishimura riki x fem!witch!reader | smut
wc: 2.3k
warnings: incubus!riki, witch!reader, noncon elements, creampie, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), mating press, cervix kissing, multiple orgasms, squirting, rikis a bit mean.. not proofread, sawry!
DON’T LIKE? DON’T READ!
“okay, don’t fuck this up ____” i whisper to myself as i light the final candle.
halloween night. i know what you’re thinking, girls your age are out partying and having a good time dressing as slutty as they could with little to no consequences. and you’re at home.
in all honesty, i would’ve joined them. smoked a bit, fooled around and maybe even fucked someone. but tonight i have better priorities. i am going to summon a demon.
i’ve been planning this for months and tonight is my only chance to get it right until next year and i’m determined to summon my first demon as soon as possible.
i mentally prepare myself before closing my eyes and reciting the saying i had memorized and chanting a name three times.
“noa. noa. noa.”
once i opened my eyes the first thing im greeted with is darkness. my candles had went out leaving a smokey scent. however before i could react my lights had began to flicker and the room started to lightly rumble against my bottom.
soon everything comes to a stop and i feel a breeze along my back as goosebumps slowly appeared across my skin.
“___..” i heard an ominous voice whisper in my ear in a low tone. slowly, ghosting touches begin to linger on my skin. a hand, trailing up my arms and shoulders leaving almost burning touches against them. the almost freezing room feeling hot as my skin burns to the touch.
not quite confident in answering to the voice, i hesitantly respond, “who are you?”
the voice chuckles sinisterly before responding. “im the one you called, of course.”
soon after that response the candles suddenly relight themselves revealing the mysterious figure in all its glory. a 6’3 Japanese boy dressed in a black muscle tee gray sweatpants with slightly chipped horns atop his head.
“riki?”
why is riki, my classmate, standing in this middle of the room? And more importantly why am i becoming aroused being in his presence?
he chuckles, sending chills down your spine. he takes long but slow paced strides across the room. eyes boring into your soul as he places a hand on your cheek, caressing your face.
“why are you shocked to see me? i’ve been here the whole entire time.”
you look at him confused before the memories start coming back.
“____ im sure you’ve heard of our our new student, nishimura riki before?” the assistant principal says as we walk towards office where i see an awkward looking japanese boy sitting one of the waiting chairs outside of the office.
i open my mouth to answer but before i can she cuts me off, “i’m sure you have. anyway i want you to show him around and make him feel welcome.” she says.
i glance over at the kid, sighing i begin to walk over to him. “hi my name is ____. im supposed to show you around” i say as i cross my arms waiting for him to acknowledge me.
the boy looks up, and he has a red glint in his eyes? wait, thats not right.
suddenly you’re pulled out of your memories when you feel a faint sting on your cheek and your head feeling dizzy.
“or should we refer back to the earlier part of this week?”
“have you guys ever noticed how odd that riki kid is?” i ask as i look down and pick at my food.
“who?” your friend, hanni, asks.
“riki?” i say confused as i look up at my friends, “the new kid in the class across the hall?” i question further.
“____we haven’t had a new kid since.. i don’t know when..” your other friend, rei, says.
i groan in frustration, “i understand he doesn’t exactly have a social status but now you guys are just being ridiculous” i say as i point behind them to riki who’s sitting in the corner table of the lunchroom.
rei and hanni look back before sharing a look and turning back to you. “ooookay..” rei says as she starts to put all her trash in the tray.
hanni follows her actions and begins to speak, “look ____, i dont know what you smoked before you came to school or if this is one of your witchy thing but you have to stop doing it before school because it’s seriously fucking with your mental.”.
they leave you alone at the table as you sit there dumbfounded with lingering eyes on you.
you feel yet another slap to your face, this one slightly harder as you lose balance and fall backwards onto your bottom.
he walks up to you again, kneeling down placing a hand between your legs causing you to instinctively clamp your legs around it.
he tsks, “i can’t tell if you fear me or if you want to fuck me..” he presses the palm of his hand into your clothed heat and proceeds to rub the tip of his middle finger up and down your clit.
he mutters to himself, “not that it matters, i’m just gonna fuck you anyway.”
your eyes start to swell with tears as soft sobs start to leave your mouth. “please dont.. “, you hiccup, “why are you here? why are you doing this to me?” you cry out.
he stops his ministrations, looking you dead in the eyes he responds, “because you desired me. you manifested me. you did this to yourself ____.” he moves his hands to tug at the waistband of your skirt and underwear roughly pulling them down.
“crying but you’re loving this treatment. you wanted to be fucked by me. thats why you summoned me right?” he lets out a dry laugh as he begins rubbing your folds up and down once more, this time spreading your wetness from your slick hole to your clit.
you sob out as you arch your back subconsciously, “s..stop” you cry out once more as you clamp your legs around him again and move your hands to wrap around his wrist, using all your strength to push him away.
“you’re too weak. how about instead of trying to act like you don’t want this, you just take it like you know you want to?” he says before delivering another smack to your face, this one just as hard as the first two smacks.
he then uses his free hand to cover your mouth and muffle your cries, “you’re so fucking annoying when you cry. it’s not like it’s gonna make me stop.” he mumbles as he suddenly thrusts two fingers into your hole.
you whine out against his hand, once again bucking your hips against his fingers and allowing your legs to spread open as you fall apart on his fingers.
“thats right.. just let it happen” he whispers as he removes his hand from your mouth and quickly replacing it with his own mouth.
the kiss is messy and heated, your saliva exchanging and your breaths heavy. his hand makes its way to your nape as to keep you from moving away from him. you didn’t plan on moving though. the kiss felt too good
he pulls away allowing you to moan into his mouth as your lips and the inside of your mouth tingle with an unfamiliar pleasure. you feel your body start to heighten its senses.
suddenly your shirt feels too tight around your body as your now hardened nipples rub up against it and your clit feeling way more sensitive as its exposed to the cool air in your room mixed with rikis warm occasional touches.
you wrap your arms around rikis neck and go to kiss him again but instead whining as you shift upwards and allow your nipples to rub and create a friction against your shirt.
“im.. im close..” you whimper out and pant as riki thrusts his fingers in and out of you at a fast speed.
riki takes the initiative and kisses you again, taking advantage of your open mouth to slip his tongue in. exploring your mouth as he snakes his free hand up your body, groping your breast and playing with your hardened nipples over your shirt.
you quickly pull away, moaning out louder than ever as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly. bucking your hips up and feeling squirts of your orgasm hit your thigh, coating both your inner thighs and rikis arm in your arousal.
riki slowly stops his fingers, riding you through your orgasm and gives you another kiss before removing his hand. he pops his fingers into his mouth groaning around them as he tastes you on his fingers.
he uses his hands to remove your shirt before pushing your bare body onto the cool hardwood floor. he watches as you arch your back off the floor and whine out as the cold air hits your now fully naked body.
he position his hands under your breast pushing them together before putting his thumb and index fingers on your nipples and pinching them.
“s..stop!” you mewl out at the pain and pleasure on your chest and bring your hands up ontop of his in an attempt to stop him.
he removes one of his hands and slaps you. he takes his now free hand and takes both of your wrist in it. he latches his mouth onto the new free nipple as he rolls and teases the other one between his fingers.
once your nipple is in his mouth, your back finally relaxes onto the floor. his tongue swirls around your areola and his teeth grazing across your nipple. in the midst of his wispy bangs he can see your mouth opened in pure pleasure, but no sound was heard.
unsatisfied with your reactions he bites your nipple somewhat harshly, forcing you to arch your back once more, and let out a loud whimper.
“such pretty noises from someone who seemingly didn’t want this” he teases before sticking his tongue out and licking your torso in small sections going downwards until he sits comfortably between your thighs.
he wraps his arms around your thighs before biting your inner thighs, occasionally sucking to soothe the bites and aid in marking you up.
his bites slowly get closer to your heat, his hot breath fanning over you. he lets himself take in the sight of you before diving in. his tongue runs over your folds and hovers over your clit. he licks small circles around your clit, making you squirm at the sensation.
he takes your clit into his mouth lightly sucking it causing you to arch your back. you let out soft breathy pants as he circles his tongue around your sensitive parts feeling his saliva start to drip out of his mouth and down into your hole.
he removes his mouth from sucking and licking on your clit downwards, collecting his saliva and your wetness before spitting the mix on your clit and going back to sucking on your clit.
you moan out as your hands fly to riki’s hair, guiding him back and forth as you spread your legs more. you buck your hips against his face while your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“i’m gonna cum again..” you whimper as you remove your hands from rikis hair to cover your mouth as tears swell up in your eyes.
as you reach your high, you attempt to buck your hips once more. only this time your hips are held down by riki, who had thrown an arm over your pelvis to keep you down as he licks and sucks you through your orgasm.
once you’ve calmed down, he pulls away, leaving a string of saliva as he pants and breathes against your cunt. he gives your clit one more suck before removing himself before between your thighs and onto his knees to kiss your lips once more.
before kissing you he starts to undress, starting by removing his shirt and revealing his toned body. he kisses you as he pulls his sweatpants and boxers down mid thigh.
riki hooks his hands under your knees and pushes them upwards towards your head.
he breaks the kiss and looks down at your messy cunt. “so messy..” he whispers before spitting on it and using his hand to guide his erection to rub against your clit and smear his precum and spit all over.
he kisses you again as he inserts his entire length inside of you without a warning, swallowing your moans and cries while doing so.
he pulls away from the kiss and listens to your moans, groaning as he feeds off your sexual energy. while allowing you to get used to his size, you could tell he’s easily larger than the few guys you’ve been with.
he starts his thrust again and with each thrust in and out of your cunt, you could feel you losing yourself with every fast hard thrust. after building a rhythm, he comfortably sits on his knees and pushes your knees farther upwards towards your head, going as deep as he possibly could.
after a particularly hard thrust, you feel the tip of his cock start to occasionally kiss your cervix, forcing you to let out loud, almost pornographic moans. riki groans to himself listening to your screams of pleasure and feeling you clench around his cock.
“i’m getting close..” you whine out as tears start to form and threaten to fall with each thrust. “cum for me baby. just let it all go..” riki whispers.
you orgasm and as you do you can feel yourself squirt once more, this time much more intense as your legs start to shake and twitch in rikis hands. your reactions send riki into his orgasm, making you feel full and warm. riki gives a couple more thrust before he pulls out.
“you did so good..” he smirks. “see? now we’re both happy. i got what i wanted and you got a good fuck.”
“h- huh..?” you say in your dazed and confused state.
“you really are stupid, aren’t you?” he asked sarcastically. “you fucked an incubus.” he chuckled before the lights flickered once more and turned off.
the lights cut back on and leaves you in the room alone forcing you to realize the reality of the situation. “holy shit.. i just fucked a demon..” you mumbled to yourself.
#𝜗𝜚 gyaruoriki#enhypen#enhypen smut#ni-ki#ni-ki x reader#ni-ki smut#nishimura riki#nishimura riki x reader#nishimura riki smut#riki#riki x reader#riki smut#riki hard thoughts
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under the influence / hayakawa aki
When Aki gets dragged to the most popular strip club in Tokyo in hopes it'll help him "de-stress", against all odds, you help him do just that. In return, he finally cures your itch for something more.
CHAPTER ONE — STRAWBERRY DAIQUIRI
pairing: hayakawa aki x fem!reader
word count: 34.0k
tags (for this chapter): 18+, aki is a virgin, reader is a stripper, drinking & smoking, strangers to lovers, lots and lots of plot, reader is shorter than aki, reader's had some bad experiences with men, pampering & comforting aki, body worship, dry humping, finger sucking, praise, the calm before the storm (the plot before the total filth)
masterlist.
read on ao3
this work contains explicit content intended for 18+ individuals. please read the tags and do not interact if you are a minor.
The club is awfully lively tonight. Colorful kaleidoscopes of light shine across the floor and the walls, they reflect off the sparkly clothing of the dancers on stage. There's guys drinking at the bar, smoking fat cigars, throwing wads of money, getting lap dances. Music pumps though the overhead speakers so loud you can feel the bass reverberate in your chest.
And yet you've never been so fucking bored.
You don't exactly hate your job. With how much money you make, you could never truly despise it; the privilege to both live well within your means and be able to buy whatever you want is all you could ask for out of a job like this one, really. This particular nightclub is located right in the center of the red light district, and it's known for being the most luxurious Tokyo has to offer, so the customers are plentiful and almost always loaded with cash.
Your manager is reasonable. He allows you to have frequent breaks, he gives you bonuses for every occasion. He never forces you to serve anyone you don't want to. Your coworkers are all kind, great people, and even though you aren't close, you know they'd all have no problem backing you up if you're ever in an uncomfortable situation.
It could be worse is what you always end up telling yourself. You say it in the morning when you're looking in the mirror and putting on your makeup, daydreaming about what it might be like to work in some cooped up office instead. You remind yourself that your day-to-day life could be so much worse than it's fortunate enough to be every time you read another article in the newspaper about the latest devil related slaughter in Tokyo. When you think of it that way, your stresses start to seem trivial in comparison.
There is one thing you can't stand about being a stripper, though, one thing you'll openly admit — and that's how goddamn uninteresting it is.
Dull would be a good way to put it. Lucrative, sure, but also incredibly, incredibly dull. Even on busy Saturdays like this, you find yourself completely worn out and bored to tears, already daydreaming of when you'll get to go home, even though the night has just begun.
Every day is the same story. Get dressed up, dance until your feet are cramping in your heels, deal with sleazy, drunk men all night, and then wake up to do it all over again. Your only reprieve is when you get to go home and count your money.
When you dropped out of school shortly after moving to Tokyo, this sort of experience was definitely not what you were expecting. You really should have stayed in your quiet little hometown, but you ended up listening to your heart instead of your head. You quickly had to shift your plans from living your dream city lifestyle to settling for whatever places happened to be hiring, which left you to choose between the Public Safety Commission or the stripclub.
Hey, this beats becoming a Devil Hunter, at least. You'd take a little boredom over having to risk your life every day just for a paycheck, or needing to make deals with slimy devils in order to get by.
Honestly, the more you've thought about it, the more you've realized that this job would simply be so much easier to deal with if the men weren't so damn insufferable. You've begun to learn rich doesn't exactly equal charitable, and that the men with the most funds to spare are usually the ones who tip the least, act the worst, and have no idea how to follow the rules.
The club is quite clear when it comes to its no-touch policy, but that doesn't seem to stop anyone from putting their hands on you. You're often grateful you're not one of the most popular performers, because although they tend to make the most money, they also have it the worst when it comes to the way they're treated. Nothing could ever be worth the things they have to deal with.
You've seen dancers have drinks thrown at them, you've watched them get stalked, you remember multiple instances where the night was cut short because the police were called. You've comforted several of your coworkers after they've run into the staff room crying because of something some asshole did to them.
And it's no secret a stupid amount of these men are coming here so they can get away from their girlfriends, their families, or even their wives. The thought alone is enough to make you sick to your stomach. How can those men have everything, the things most people in this shitty world don't get to have — happiness, love, wealth, a family — and yet they're still so unsatisfied?
"Hey, beautiful. Let me buy you a drink."
A sudden raspy, drunken voice coming from behind you rouses you from your thoughts.
You decide to ignore it for a second. And then two, and then three. Maybe they weren't talking to you; maybe whoever this guy is, he'll go away and leave you alone because clearly you're trying to enjoy your break by relaxing at the bar, and clearly you don't want to talk to him, so can he just —
"Hey," The man speaks again, louder, and closer to your ear this time. He's leaning over you, he's way too close for comfort. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, you can tell he's tipsy by the way his words start to slur and how they sound heavy on his tongue, "You've got ears, right? I'm trying to be nice here."
You give yourself a half a second longer to get composed before turning to him, sweetening up your tone and putting on your best fake smile.
"Sorry sir, I'm not supposed to talk to patrons when I'm on my break. The boss will get suuuuuuper mad at me if I do." You lift the drink you're holding, swirling the contents around in the glass. "Plus, I already have a drink, see?"
The man eyes you up and down, and for a moment you're worried he isn't going to leave you alone. But finally, thankfully, he stands up straight and walks away, muttering something to himself you don't hear all of because you've already stopped paying attention. "Ungrateful bitch," was the only thing you managed to catch before you started focusing on the peppy club music to drown him out.
If you didn't need this job, you'd have probably cussed that guy out. Hell, you would have started cussing out assholes like him months ago. You've been telling yourself this for ages but seriously, one of these days, your patience is going to wear thin, and whoever decides to go over the line that day is not going to like what they hear from you.
With a frustrated sigh, you roll your shoulders back, relieving some of the tension there, and you bring your glass to your lips, taking a small swig of your strawberry daiquiri. The chill from the ice hits your lips first; you taste the sweet strawberry syrup on your tongue, and when you swallow, the tart rum lingers satisfyingly in the back of your throat.
You usually don't drink at work as a personal preference but it's hard to avoid when you've been super on edge tonight. These days, you feel as if everything has your mind way more frazzled than usual. You were hoping a drink or two would help to settle your nerves. And while it does provide you a nice distraction from the chaos, the alcohol is yet to hit your system, so your swigs are doing little for your current situation.
You're in for a long night, aren't you?
Thankfully, you've still got a while left to relax and enjoy your break, but something tells you you're gonna have to savor your alone-time while you can.
You're working 'til close tonight, which means you won't finish your shift until around 2am, you won't get home until 3, and when you glance up at the neon clock on the wall — the one you always know the exact location of because you spend ages staring at it on every single shift you work — you can tell it's only a few minutes past 10pm.
You absently swirl the remaining contents of your drink around the glass. You'll get through the night, you always do. You don't have any doubts. It's just that the thought of how long you still have to be here is enough to totally kill your appetite.
Oh, whatever. If you want to see the end of this shift as soon as possible, you're gonna need something to take the edge off. So, reluctantly, you screw your eyes shut tight and tip your head back to down the rest of your drink. Luckily for you, you place the empty glass on the counter right as the bartender is walking over. You waste no time ordering yourself another one of the same.
While you're waiting for your drink, you drum your fingers against the surface of the bar and glance around the club. It's still just as busy as it was when you first sat down, unfortunately. It looks as though nearly every booth close to the stripper poles is filled, and most of the ones further away are busy as well. Some groups of men are crowded around the furthest seats to play cards and place bets. You observe the stages, the tables, the columns of neon light cast by a prominent, shiny disco ball. Everything seems to be as usual, but one sight catches your eye and keeps your attention.
It's your boss, who's currently standing at the front entrance, personally greeting two men who have just walked in. They both flash their IDs at the security guards, and once they've stepped all the way inside, your boss stops them and begins to speak to them.
You can hear a friendly, hearty sort of inflection in his voice, but what he's actually saying is difficult to pick up over the loud music. Surely he's starting by repeating the same script he always does: Welcome to Kon Kon Nightclub, the highest-rated club in all of Tokyo! Let us know how we can best please you tonight, boys!
These guys are a little different from the usual crowd, though. They're special, hence why your boss is lingering for longer than he has to. It's easy to tell who they are and why they're so important from the uniform they're wearing: a collared shirt, professional-looking slacks, and a crisp, neat suit and tie.
You've seen this uniform countless times before, whether it be on the news, in the streets, or during your own job — You've been told, "Hey, Public Safety guys. Look alive, and make sure to treat them real nicely," more times than you can count.
Everyone in Tokyo could recognize a pair of devil hunters from a mile away, but especially you and especially, especially your boss.
Simply put, your boss tends to give men from the Public Safety commission special treatment. They're the most consistent customers, usually showing up in order to de-stress from one mission, or to forget about the strife of another. The boss makes certain they're pampered to keep them coming back.
That, and they tend to pay handsomely. Yes, a devil hunter's salary is nothing to scoff at, but most of the time, the reason why they're so frivolous with their cash is because they tend to spend like it's the end of the world — and when you come face to face with the very real possibility of death on a day-to-day basis, for them, it very well could be.
It makes sense why they choose to come here, you suppose. Hunting devils for a living takes a massive strain on someone; you know this to be true from all the hunters you've seen and spoken to. A job like that is rough on your mentality, on your physical well-being. A lot of devil hunters don't form long lasting relationships because they're so busy, but you figure it's also because, to put it bluntly, people don't want to date someone who could be here one day and gone the next.
Not like you can really blame them. You wouldn't get involved with a devil hunter either.
Devil hunters show up so they can relax, so they can get their mind off things and pretend to be normal for a while. A sense of normalcy goes a long way for a job so rotten. You would know, you've dealt with your fair share of men from Public Safety, mostly because the days they have off usually align with the days you work. But to be honest, you don't mind them.
Although you've certainly met a good few devil hunters who are stuck-up and self-righteous, most of them are nothing more than troubled people. They're scared, they're lonely, they aren't used to talking to women. They want a pretty girl's love and attention, they just don't know how to ask for it.
Most of them are good men, albeit a bit misguided. Some of them are crazy. Though, with a job like that, who wouldn't be? Hell, at least when they act depraved, they have an excuse, unlike the rest of the guys who walk in here.
And since the vast majority of devil hunters who come here are regulars, you were able to recognize one of the men your boss is currently talking to the second you saw him.
Dyed blonde hair because he doesn't want anyone to see his grays, a messy scruff you'd hardly call a beard, and a scar on his face you could recognize anywhere; Kishibe comes here every single weekend, so if you didn't see him, then it would be a cause for concern. The only time he isn't here to drink beer from the tap and relentlessly flirt with all of the performers is when he's got devils to kill.
Surprisingly, you'd have to say he's one of the regulars you hate the least. He's kind of sleazy, a little off his rocker, but he's a good guy. He's never rude, and he doesn't tend to bring rude men along with him, either. There's performers he favors much more than you, though, so it's not often where you end up having to service him.
Either way, you're much more interested in the man who's accompanying Mister Kishibe tonight. You're certain he's someone you've never seen before; when it comes to your patrons of the devil hunter variety, you never forget a face — and you definitely wouldn't forget such a unique hairstyle.
The man has his dark hair tied up in a neat, pointy topknot, showing off the pair of distinct, black circle-shaped earrings that adorn his lobes. He's tall, nearly taller than Kishibe. He's clearly much younger though; your guess is early twenties, maybe twenty-two, twenty-four? And in your opinion, he has a handsome face, a sharp jawline with pretty features.
He's maintained a nice, straight posture, with his arms held uniformly around his back, and a blank, serious expression since you first started watching. But from the way he keeps nervously glancing around, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his shoulders tensed up: it's clear to tell he's getting increasingly uncomfortable.
Mister Kishibe says something to your boss you're unable to make out before slinging his arm over Mister Topknot, to which your boss bursts out laughing, and Topknot immediately has an absolutely mortified look forming on his face which he tries to hide by averting his eyes and awkwardly clearing his throat.
Yeah, there's no way this man has been here before. He arrived less than five minutes ago and he already looks like he wants to leave.
It must be his first time coming to a place like this, you assume. His reserved demeanor is enough to tell you all you need to know, but honestly, he just doesn't really look like the clubbing type. Kishibe looks the part, for sure. But this man, with his stiff posture and out-of-place attitude — he's like a fish out of water. He's the type who seems like he'd rather stay in on a Saturday night, not go out and party, and certainly not go and hit up a sweaty, busy strip club.
You've seen this same story countless times before. If you had to guess, this wasn't what he wanted to do, but he ended up getting talked into it, or perhaps even got dragged here against his will, all by his annoying, sleazy coworker. Now, he's got to deal with being uncomfortable for the rest of the night, all while pretending to act completely fine.
You can't help but find his plight a little bit cute.
Kishibe gives the man a firm pat on the back before walking away from the entrance and into the busy club, to which he's swarmed almost immediately by a group of three strippers; one grabs his arm and ushers him to sit down at the nearest booth, one takes his coat from his shoulders and holds it like a souvenir, and the other sits down next to him, crossing her legs and placing her hand on his thigh, leaning in to whisper something into his ear with a coy expression on her face.
As ridiculous as it is, you wouldn't consider their behavior to be at all out of place considering how popular Kishibe is among the women here. He's simple, easy to get along with. Or maybe it's just because of how generously he likes to tip. If you had more patience, and if the usual men who came in here were anywhere near as tolerable as Kishibe, you'd be spoiling them to high heaven too. But right now, you don't care about any of them.
You bring your attention back to where the newcomer guy is still standing awkwardly at the entryway. You're much more interested in what his next move is gonna be.
Your boss places his hand on Topknot's shoulder, giving him a curt nod before walking away. The man stands there for a second, you watch him shove his hands in his pockets and glance over to where Kishibe is currently knee-deep in women, as if he's considering catching up with him. In the end, his chest heaves like he's sighing, he looks towards the bar, and — Oh, he's coming over here.
You turn towards your drink as quickly as you can before he can catch you staring at him. He approaches the bar; you feel your heart leap into your throat when he chooses to stand right next to your stool, and wow, he's way taller up close. His shoulders are broad, his chest fills out his suit. When you manage to steal glances at him, silently praying he won't notice but daring to take the risk anyways, you conclude he's even more handsome than you thought, too.
His face is framed by long, straight bangs, his eyebrows are short and thick, his eyes are a deep, alluring shade of blue, like the sky after rain. The colorful lights from the nearby stages reflect in the shiny metal of his earrings. He reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet and his hands are large, his knuckles bruised, his palms calloused. A defined Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he calls over the bartender —
"Excuse me. What do you have on tap?"
And his voice is low, silky smooth; only a couple of words, and you feel like you could listen to him speak forever.
You're nosy when he pulls his ID from his wallet, placing it on the counter and sliding it over to the bartender with his index finger. With your eyes squinted, you're just barely able to catch the name printed on it before the bartender picks it up: Hayakawa Aki.
Aki is careful to slide his ID into his wallet exactly where it was when it's handed back to him, and then he quickly shoves his wallet back into his pocket. He leans his arms over the bar counter while he waits for his beer, resting his chin on the heel of his palm.
You notice how the buttons of his suit jacket are clasped neatly around his chest, and how his collar is folded exactly, neither side longer than the other. And how his tie is tight and straight and orderly, how it's tucked into his jacket nicely — It's a stark contrast to how Kishibe looked when he walked in, with his jacket already undone, his collar ruffled, and his tie loose, stuck haphazardly into his shirt pocket.
You wager Aki is a lot more professional than his buddy, a lot more uptight. A lot less crazy. That'll get you killed, you can hear Kishibe saying in your head, after he's gone on another one of his unprompted ramblings about devil hunting. Aki is a lot more cognizant of his reputation — and thus, a lot more ashamed than most to be coming to a place like this.
Aki's gaze wanders over the array of drinks in the back of the bar: the short bottles, long bottles, drinks with colorful labels and brands he doesn't recognize, but seem incredibly expensive. And then, he looks towards you.
Your eyes meet his own briefly, for no more than a half a second; you tear yourself away and turn back towards your drink like it was just a coincidence.
You have no idea whether or not he noticed you staring, but thankfully, the creeping sense of awkwardness you were starting to feel quickly fades away as the bartender arrives with a frothy glass of beer, remarking something about the tab before setting it down on the counter. Aki takes it by the handle, but as he's turning to leave, his shoulder accidentally bumps yours just slightly.
It isn't enough to spill your drink, or really enough to displace you at all, but it is enough for Aki to swiftly turn to you and apologize for his mistake.
"Oh," Aki meets your eyes for the second time tonight. There's an apologetic, sincere expression on his face, and he politely says with a nod of his head, "I'm sorry, excuse me."
By the time you've turned to reply to him, to say something like, Oh, it's alright, or It's okay, hey, you're new here, aren't you? he's already gone, disappearing into the crowd of patrons and the swirls of neon lights.
Shit.
You turn towards your drink once more, except this time, instead of patiently nursing it like you've been doing for the past few minutes, you tilt your head back and down the entire thing in a couple of gulps and a few seconds. You set the empty glass on the table, you shift off of your bar seat before the bartender can convince you to stay for another, you pull on the bottom of your outfit to adjust it once you're up and standing.
You have to find him.
The club is rather large, but you've long since memorized the layout, so you know the spots where people like to hang out. Based on what you've seen of Aki so far, if he's not with Kishibe, it's likely he'll be in one of the far corners, in a seat that's furthest from the stages, the performers, and the noise. In the spot least likely to get him into trouble.
So, you walk through the club, in search of the man with the signature topknot. You check Kishibe's usual seat first; he's kicked his feet up on the table in front of him, he's got a cocktail with a paper umbrella sticking out of it in hand and he's crowded by even more women than when he got here — but the person you're looking for is nowhere in sight.
You head towards the back of the club next. Your eyes scan the booths, the tables, even the sidelines where he could possibly be standing. At one point, a guy sitting on one of the front couches — a guy who's definitely not Aki — crooks his finger at you and whistles like he's asking you to come over. You ignore him completely, rushing past without even bothering to spare him a second glance.
God, you're not a fucking dog, and besides, you've got better things to do right now. Better men to talk to.
Finally, you reach the very last booth in the back of the club, and that's when you see him: Aki Hayakawa, sitting in the dimly lit corner by his lonesome, his long legs crossed over each other as he sips from his half-drank glass of beer. His foot is tapping the floor nervously, his eyes are looking everywhere but the stripper poles, and when you start to walk closer, when it's obvious you're deliberately heading in his direction, his gaze catches on you.
You see him do a literal double-take, and you can't decide if it's because he recognized you from earlier, or if it's because of the outfit you're wearing. When he scans you up and down, and when his face grows flushed, his eyes wide, his lips parted in surprise, you start to lean towards the answer being the latter.
You have on one of your usual dancing outfits: a strappy blue one-piece, with sheer black thigh highs and sparkly, blue high heels. Fancy, not unlike what the rest of the dancers are wearing, but certainly something special. The dress has windows on your hips and a window on your chest, it hugs your form tightly, accentuating your shape in all the right places.
It's your boss's favorite, what he'd affectionately refer to as your "big-money outfit", or what your patrons might call a showstopper — Aki probably couldn't see it well when you were sitting down at the dingy bar, but now, when you're standing directly in the bright, fluorescent lights meant to show off the sparkle of an outfit like this one, you're sure he can see everything.
When you reach Aki's booth, he promptly averts his eyes away from you. You almost expect him to tell you off, or to make some excuse to get you to leave. But if he was going to, you start speaking to him before he can get the chance: "Hey, can I sit next to you?"
That question gets his attention. He quickly glances up at you. He eyes you up, and then down, and then back up again, slower than when he scanned you before. His mouth opens for a second, but then immediately closes, like there's something he wanted to say but inevitably decided not to. Finally, with a defeated sigh and an unsure expression still lingering on his face, Aki nods his head and uncrosses his legs, scooching to the side to give you room to squeeze into the booth next to him.
You smile. "Thanks."
You fold your hands neatly in your lap, sitting a foot or so away from where he's positioned. Aki has his head turned in the complete opposite direction, looking at something or other in the distance and leaving you to stare at the back of his ponytail.
You've provided plenty of space between him and yourself so you won't make him too uncomfortable. But still, once you get settled in, Aki seems to stiffen a little: his legs fidget, and his knuckles tense when he grips the handle of his glass noticeably harder than before.
To reassure him, you continue, tone soft and lighthearted, "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything. I'm on my break. I just needed a place to sit."
Aki doesn't seem to acknowledge you, but from the way he slowly begins to relax again, leaning further into the plush booth, turning his head in order to look at you from the corner of his eye, it seems like your words were able to put him at ease, if only by a bit.
For a few moments, he looks down, staring idly into the contents of his drink. Then, he looks up, his gaze locked on something towards the front of the club. The sight makes his nose crinkle in displeasure, so he keeps staring for only a second longer before looking back down at the table again.
Whatever he was looking at, you would've been interested to know. Maybe it was one of the dancers who he disapproved of, or maybe a patron was acting unruly. It doesn't matter, though. Either way, you have no idea, because all the while, you've been unable to take your eyes away from him.
This dim section of the club casts his features in columns of shadow and pockets of light. You can see every little detail of his so much clearer. It's the closest you've been to him yet, and the proximity somehow makes him look even more handsome. You're close enough to smell the slight, but unmistakable scent of smoke clinging to him. You get the faintest hint of his cologne: pleasant and fancy and an absolute delight to all of your senses. He smells like salty ocean waves breaking against the shore, like the crisp fluttery pages of an unopened book.
You rest your elbow on the table and your face in your hand. Despite your obvious staring, Aki still seems to be paying you no mind; he closes his eyes and takes a long drink of beer from his glass. A tiny bit of white foam clings to the top of his lip and he wipes it away with the back of his hand.
"Is this your first time coming to a place like this?" You ask with an eyebrow raised, breaking the silence.
Aki glances towards you, his eyes wide, like he fully wasn't expecting you to speak. He's silent for a moment, either pondering how to answer the question, or deciding if you were even talking to him in the first place. The way you're expectantly staring at him tells him you probably were.
"Ah, uhm," He raises his fist to his mouth and clears his throat, he replies a little awkwardly, "Yes, it is. How could you tell?"
The nightclub's music is much quieter here. The sound is reduced to a dull hum where you can only make out the thump of the bass. The noise from people talking, cheering, or drunkenly shouting is a lot less loud from over here, too. It makes it a lot easier to hear his voice, to focus on him and only him.
"Hm, well you seemed awfully uncomfortable from the moment you walked in," You answer honestly with a slight tilt of your head, "And that usually means you're new."
For a second more, Aki stares at you curiously from the corner of his vision, but he doesn't reply — Instead, he breaks eye contact to calmly set down his glass of beer and reach into the pocket of his jacket. He's fishing around for something, and when he finds it, he's pulling out a familiar carton of cigarettes and gently tapping the bottom with his palm until one pops out.
The box is a distinct shade of sky-blue. You immediately recognize the brand: Wild Raven Lights. It isn't the most popular brand in Tokyo, nor is it what you see the guys who usually come here smoking; that would be cigars, or cigarettes with a hell of a lot more nicotine. But it is the kind you preferred. The brand you used to smoke before you started trying to wean yourself off of them.
You watch as a thin white cigarette is placed between his teeth, he shoves the packet of cigs back into his pocket and this time, pulls out a small silver zippo lighter. He flicks the top open, he shields the lighter with his palm. His thumb settles on the wheel, but before he strikes it, he freezes.
With the cigarette still held in his lips, Aki takes a quick glance towards you.
"Do you mind if I smoke?"
You flash him a soft smile and reply, "Nope. Go ahead."
Aki brings his focus back to his cig. With one firm strike of the wheel, the lighter produces a steady flame over the end of the cigarette, flaring it to life. When it starts to burn, he flicks the lighter closed and returns it to his pocket; his eyes flutter shut and his fingers hold the cigarette carefully as he takes a nice, long drag in.
You can imagine how the smoke settles in his chest when he inhales, how the nicotine feels when it hits his veins, the sense of relief he gets when he tilts his head up and blows a thick puff of smoke up towards the ceiling — Just watching him makes you feel relaxed, as if you'd taken a hit yourself. Aki didn't really strike you as a smoker when you first saw him, but he handles his cigarette like a natural.
"You smoke Wild Raven Lights?"
Your question gets Aki's attention. He reaches over the table, he pinches the rim of the ashtray in the middle and tugs it closer. He leans his cigarette over it, and he taps the end to scatter the ashes.
"Yeah." He replies simply. Smoke wisps up from the end of the cig, and it flares with light when Aki takes another deep hit.
"I used to smoke those too." You drum your fingers against the table, and you look away from him for a while to glance around the busy club. "The lights are so much better than the regular ones. Those made me feel nauseous."
There's people all around, dancers and patrons alike. You spot your boss in the crowd for a half-second and briefly wonder if he's looking for you. Your break was supposed to be over soon, wasn't it? The bar seats have all filled up, almost every couch and chair is crowded. And yet, when you're here in this quiet little corner in the back of the club, it feels like you and Aki are the only people who exist.
You like that feeling. You like how it's just you and it's just him.
Aki gives a slight nod in agreement to what you said, puffing another cloud of smoke. More people are funneling in from the entrance. The music grows louder and the lights begin to dim as a few dancers take center stage.
"Hey."
He draws your focus back to him. Meeting your eyes as effortlessly as if it was natural, he gestures his cigarette held between two of his fingers towards you. "Do you want one?"
"Oh, no, no," You answer, raising your hands and shaking your head, "The boss doesn't let us smoke on the job. Plus I've been trying to quit. Thank you, though."
Aki shrugs. He brings his cigarette to his parted lips, his voice is quiet, genuine.
"Just tell me if the smoke starts to get to you."
You've known Aki Hayakawa for all but five minutes, and he's already treated you kinder than any man you've known before him.
Most customers don't have the time or the care for small talk, that's something you learned pretty early on; if they weren't shifting the conversation to something more appealing to them, they definitely would have badgered you for a lap dance by now.
They wouldn't be keeping their hands to themselves like this, they wouldn't be affording you respect. They wouldn't have asked you if it was okay to smoke, either. They wouldn't be tilting their head to the side to blow their smoke away from you like Aki's doing. No, they'd be puffing it right in your face without a second thought. Even the nicest of the men you've met were still completely oblivious.
If Aki Hayakawa was anyone else, if he was anything like the men you're used to meeting, the men you've always despised, perhaps you would have stood up and left a long time ago. No, you definitely would have. There's no amount of mysteriousness or intrigue or amount of your own unbearable boredom that would have made you willingly stay and accompany the usual kind of patron on your precious break time.
You followed him because you thought he was interesting, because you thought he was handsome, even. You're well aware of the dwindling minutes left in your break by this point. If he was like the others, you would have walked away and gone back to working and found someone else to service who's closer to the crowd so your coworkers can keep an eye on you.
But he's not. He isn't. He isn't rude, he isn't debauched. He's kind and quiet and dammit, it's refreshing to finally meet a man who doesn't look at you the way everyone else does — like an object to be won, like something to be devoured. Aki treats you like you're human.
You could leave. You're getting ahead of yourself right now, definitely. You can't help but trust him though; you have a good sense for these sorts of things, and Aki simply doesn't feel like a bad person, not in the slightest. Yeah, you hardly know him. And that's the problem, you want to know him.
You aren't getting up from this spot any time soon.
"You know," You start, your eyes flickering over him; you examine his professional, straight posture, you can see the slightest prickle of nervousness in his gaze. "You don't have to be so shy. I know this is a lot, this environment, I mean. It's probably overwhelming, maybe a little embarrassing, too. But there's nothing to be ashamed of. It's our job to take care of you. You can relax."
Aki snaps back an immediate response, his tone blunt, his words humorless: "I can't."
He's a man of few words, you've noticed. But that was still far from anything you expected him to say. He takes you a bit off guard, and you can't help but giggle at how serious he sounds.
You're speaking through a smile when you ask, "You can't relax? Why's that?"
"I can't relax when I have to watch…" The bridge of Aki's nose wrinkles up in disgust, his lips curl and his eyebrows furrow. Cigarette still held between his fingers, he points to a place in the distance — "That."
You sit up straight in your seat, you follow Aki's stare and the point of his finger. Honestly, you figured you knew what he'd be talking about before you looked, and sure enough, his gaze leads right to none other than his coworker, Kishibe. The sight is somehow even more ridiculous than the last time you saw it.
There's one girl tenderly massaging his shoulders, another sitting next to him with her fingers hooked in the loops of his belt, and another who's hand-feeding him horderves. The part that really gets you is these aren't the same girls you remember seeing earlier — It's a totally different group.
Kishibe looks like he's having the time of his life, but when you turn back to Aki, the irritated expression on his face says it all.
You chuckle, "Yeah, it's pretty absurd, isn't it? Kishibe is super popular with the girls here."
Aki turns to you in surprise. "You know him?"
"Of course. He's here super often, you know. Every weekend actually, either to fill up on alcohol or to flirt with girls. He's one of our regulars."
"Figures." Aki scoffs. His eyes narrow, and he absently fiddles with his half-smoked cigarette between his fingers. He brings it to his lips, and he finishes speaking before taking another drag. "I'm not surprised. At least he isn't making me pay his tab this time."
"He seems like the type, doesn't he?"
You pause while Aki steadily breathes out another puff of smoke. God, the scent is intoxicating. When his eyes flutter open again, meeting yours, you swallow, and you continue.
"He's a good guy, though. At least, compared to some of our other customers. I understand why most of the girls here are desperate for him."
Point-blank and curt, Aki asks, "Are you desperate for him?"
You? Desperate for Kishibe?
Now that response gives you a full-blown laugh. The way he said it didn't sound like jealousy, or like envy, or even like anger. More like utter confusion. As if he doesn't understand how anyone could act so obsessed, especially towards a man like Kishibe.
Or maybe he doesn't get how Kishibe could let those women obsess over and pamper him, especially women he hardly knows. He thinks it's suffocating, or stupid, or both, actually.
"Ah, no, not really," You clear your throat as your laughter starts to fade, and Aki stares at you with a neutral expression. You shrug, "He's alright, I guess. Not rude or anything like most guys are. I don't hate him. I just think he's kind of… I can't think of a nice way to put it."
"A drunkard."
"Hah, yes. A drunkard." You agree with a playful roll of your eyes, "But it's not like I haven't seen worse. That's why I can't totally despise him, you know? Seriously, you wouldn't believe the pigs we have to deal with on a regular basis. Kishibe's tame compared to those men."
"No, I believe it." Aki exhales one final cloud of smoke before stamping out the butt of his spent cigarette into the ashtray. He grinds it down, almost in an angry sort of manner. "They're all disgusting. The men from the third division are always coming here, and I can't stand any of them. The way they talk makes me sick."
There's a second of silence. Then another. You can feel each one in your heart. Aki looks towards you. He meets your eyes, his voice takes on a much softer, much gentler tone. "I'm sorry you have to deal with people like that. It's draining, I'm sure."
"Oh," You're caught by surprise for a moment, but you shake your head and offer him a reassuring smile. "It's alright. Don't apologize. I'm the one who chose to work here, after all."
Aki takes another swig of his beer without breaking eye contact with you.
"And besides," You continue, "It's not all bad. The pay is good. You get free food and drinks, can't complain about that. And…" You rest your head on your arms, you peer up at him through your lashes. "I suppose not all the men who come here are horrible."
"Yeah?" Aki crosses his arms over his chest, and he leans back, listening closely to you as you continue. Utterly clueless.
"Mhmm. A lot of them are irritating, sure, but most of them are just lonely. Some men come here because they're married or dating someone, and they've become unsatisfied in the relationship — Those guys are always the worst. And some of them come only 'cause they've got money to blow and want a pretty girl to throw it at."
You pause, considering, placing a finger to your chin in an exaggerated thinking pose. "I think… Kishibe is the third type. He's got no shortage of money to burn, that's for sure. And you're probably the first kind. The kind of guy who's just lonely."
Aki squints his eyes. "Are you serious?"
You snort, "Hey, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I think most devil hunters are lonely, that's why guys from Public Safety are always showing up here. But unlike those guys, you seem like you actually know how to treat a woman."
Aki stays quiet for a couple of long, drawn-out seconds. His expression is completely impossible to read. The silence allows you to hear the song that's playing on the speakers, and you recognize it as one you've heard at least a million times on your various shifts. In the corner of your eye, you can see the dancers drawing large crowds around the stages, the lights flickering in colorful hues.
You decide to break the silence. "Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to make a bunch of assumptions about you right away."
Finally, Aki sighs, and he answers, "Just don't get the wrong idea about me. I'm not someone who would come to a place like this, and I don't want to be associated with everyone who does. I didn't want to come here in the first place. Mister Kishibe dragged me."
"Oh, so it's like that, huh?" You smirk. You knew it, but you still force an air of confusion into your tone. "Why'd he take you here, then? Is it your birthday or something?"
"Pfft. No, it's not. He made me come with him tonight because he said it would help me relax since work's been stressful lately. But…"
Aki trails off. His expression changes, it morphs into something like exasperation. Where his arms are still crossed tightly around his chest, you can see his hand start to clench a little.
"But being here just makes me feel more stressed."
Your heart pangs. You lower your voice by a couple of volumes when you speak next.
"I see. I get it. This place isn't for everyone, that's for sure. It's mean to force you along. You'd much rather be relaxing by yourself at home, huh?"
Aki exhales a particularly heavy breath, but he doesn't respond. He just listens to you speak.
"You don't deserve any extra stress, I'm sure you go through so much already. I can't even imagine the kind of things you see on the job, it must take such a toll on you…" You shake your head. "I keep up with the news when I have time, and I've seen all the stuff about devil attacks that've been happening lately. They can try to hide it all they want but either way, it's always all anyone can talk about."
"Devils have been becoming more and more frequent and even more dangerous with no kind of warning." Aki's eyebrows furrow into a knot, he speaks sharply through gritted teeth. "So many people could die and… And no-one else is taking it seriously. The more the news puts out those programs, the more scared people become, and then, the worse the devils get."
He swallows thickly to combat the dryness in his throat. "There must be a reason for all of this. Impossibly strong devils don't just appear out of the blue. Something or someone is causing it, and before it's too late, we need to… I've got to…"
He doesn't manage to finish his sentence. Still, you're surprised. You weren't expecting him to be so talkative. Aki has a complicated, solemn sort of look on his face, his gaze dark and clouded.
I've got to. The way he says it is like if anything happens, if people die or if something goes awry, it'll be him who's responsible. Like this is all a heavy burden he alone has to carry, whether it's by choice or by circumstance.
He's acting like he can do it, he's pretending none of this bothers him and everything is fine even though it clearly isn't. He's scared. You know he's scared, because he's already fishing around in his pocket for another cigarette — in the same way you remember doing when you felt like your own stress would eat you alive. His knee is bouncing with anxiety, his hands are shaking so much it's making lining up his lighter with the end of the cig and striking it damn near impossible.
You could have been in his shoes. It could have been you who had to fight devils and put your life on the line. But instead, it's a man who's way too kindhearted for his own good.
"Here. Gimme."
Before Aki can protest, you're leaning over the table and snatching the lighter from his clenched hand. He lets go without a fight, he turns towards you, holds still like he's frozen. Cigarette between his teeth, his eyes scan your face, gaze unreadable. You lift the lighter, you strike the wheel and bring a steady flame to his cigarette in one fluid, practiced motion.
Sparks flicker from the end once you've lit it. Smoke wafts up towards the ceiling, the smell of fire and ash once again come to tickle at your lungs. You set his lighter back on the table. Aki glances at you one more time before he takes it.
You've shifted a bit closer to him. As he's fumbling to shove his lighter back in his jacket pocket, he doesn't seem to notice — That is, until ever-so slightly, your knee touches his.
Clearly it wasn't a coincidence, because you aren't pulling away, you aren't moving. You meant to sit this close to him. You're barely even touching, really. But the little bit of contact, just the tiniest bit of closeness: it brings him back to reality, like a rippling pool of water finally becoming still.
Aki fiddles with the cigarette in his mouth. He gives up on taking a puff, snatching it from his lips and holding it between two fingers. He rests his elbows on the table, he exhales a long, wavering breath. Your knee touching his is enough to stop him from shaking.
"Hey." You speak quietly, calmly. You keep your hands folded in your lap and you lean a little bit closer to him so he can hear you better, so he'll be the only one to hear your voice. "Are you alright?"
Aki glances up towards you hurriedly; his expression softens, he gives you a shallow nod of his head.
"I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He answers, and he rolls his shoulders back to relieve some of the tension. "I'm just… I'm…"
You complete his sentence: "Stressed?"
"Yes, stressed. Stressed and tired." Aki replies. He reaches for the ashtray, and he stamps his cigarette out without ever taking a single hit.
"It's hard on you, isn't it? You must be sick of this."
"I'm sick and tired of everything. Of watching people die and not- and just-"
It's then, with his voice quiet and frail and about to shatter, with the music loud and the lights shimmering in gradients of blue, purple, and white — It's then where you see him start to crack.
Aki sighs deeply, his arms shake and he puts his head in his hands. His body curls in on itself, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. He looks like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Like he wants to disappear.
"Sorry, why am I telling you this?" His voice is muffled by his hands, "I've said too much."
You manage to huff a dry laugh. "It's okay. You've had a lot on your mind, huh? You gotta get that stuff out of your system somehow. Don't worry about it."
When he doesn't respond, just keeps on breathing deep and slow, you continue talking, your voice reassuring: "You have to deal with so many things, don't you? It's hard to keep all of your stress inside, it'll start to eat away at you. Sounds like you've needed to tell someone all of that for a long while."
After a few long moments leave you wondering if he even heard you or not, Aki finally pulls his face away from his hands. He sits up and leans back in exasperation, he rubs his pinched temple with his fingers.
"I guess so." He replies simply, plainly.
You hesitate. "Listen, this is kind of stupid, and I know you don't know me very well, but… I'm glad I could be here for you. I'm glad you felt like you could open up to me, I suppose. I don't really understand what it's like to be a devil hunter. But I can try to. You can talk to me about anything. Promise."
Aki drops his hands into his lap, he stares aimlessly at the ceiling. "I appreciate it, but I think I'd rather not talk about it anymore. I'll be fine."
You're not sure if he's telling the truth, or if he's only saying that in order to quell your concerns for him.
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" You ask, tilting your head at him. "If you want to go home, you can, y'know. Kishibe will be just fine without you. I'll tell him you weren't feeling well. Or you can stand outside, we've got a whole area for smoking and stuff. It's not as loud over there."
"I'm sure. I'll leave later. I want to order another drink."
Right on queue, Aki grips the handle of his beer, and he swiftly chugs what's left in the glass. Then, he sets it back down on the table with a sigh.
You stay silent, thinking to yourself. You rest your head in your palm and tap your finger against your cheek.
All this talk of drinks and finding somewhere quieter has given you the perfect idea.
"Hey, sir, can I ask what your name is?"
Aki glances towards you, and his response comes much quicker than you expected: "Aki Hayakawa."
You can't help but feel a slight smile start to tug at the corners of your cheeks. He introduced himself to you so willingly, and with his full name, too. How cute.
"Hm," You feign thinking for a moment, pressing your finger to your chin, and Aki stares at you curiously with an eyebrow raised. Then, you shake your head, concluding, "Nope, I haven't heard that one before. It's nice to meet you, Mister Hayakawa."
There's another pause as Aki crosses his arms over his chest, his foot tapping idly against the floor, and as you tell him your name. Your real name.
That's a first for you; you've always used a stage name when it comes to guys from the club, all the dancers do. It's something about wanting to keep your anonymity, and not wanting your real life associated with your club work. None of your patrons know what your real name is, and you've often gone to great lengths to keep them from finding out.
And yet, you've just told Aki without even thinking twice. You can't say you regret it. You genuinely don't think he'd do anything malicious, and after what he's told you, after how honest he's been, it wouldn't feel right to lie to him. Even about something so small.
"So, Hayakawa," You start, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere, "If you want, we've got private rooms in the back, I can show you to one. You can get away from the crowd and the noise. I don't know about you, but I've been dying to go somewhere quieter."
A tight knot forms in your gut at the mention of the club's private rooms, just at the implication of inviting someone — a man — back there. You're quick to flash Aki an innocent smile and push that feeling away.
Aki cocks an eyebrow and immediately counters, "Aren't you supposed to be working?"
"Maybe."
Aki's face goes completely deadpan. You try to keep yourself from grinning only to see his reaction, but you're unable to hold back a wide, playful smile.
"Come on, I'm kidding," You tease, rolling your eyes, "I told you I was on break, didn't I?"
Aki glances away from you, and he goes silent, as if he's considering your offer. His gaze is caught on something in the distance again, and when you follow his line of vision, you see he's looking at none other than Kishibe, and at all of the women flocking around him.
You can see the contemplation on Aki's face, how it turns to annoyance, and then into pure disgust, his eyebrows scrunching, his eyes narrowing. It's clear he's getting sick of watching them, of even being around them.
You're certain by now he'll accept your proposal. Your heart flutters with anticipation, and just for good measure, you lean in closer, and you coo one last thing into the devil hunter's ear: I'll make you some drinks?
Those words seem to do the trick, because finally, Aki is uncrossing his arms and sitting up, he's looking towards you and replying, "Yeah. That'd be nice. I'd like to get away from here for a bit."
You smile. "I can arrange that."
You're wasting no time sliding out of the booth, fixing your bunched up dress as you stand and moving aside to allow Aki to follow close behind. He steps out of the booth, he rises to his feet, he stands up straight in front of you and shit, he's tall. So tall your heart is instantly thumping a mile a minute in your chest.
You knew he'd be much larger than you from when he first approached the bar, and you could tell he'd most likely tower over you from when he was standing next to Mister Kishibe and your boss: two men who are already leagues above you in height. But now that he's standing right next to you, the difference in size between him and yourself is much more noticeable. It leaves Aki to look down at where you are, and leaves you to crane your neck in order to peer up at him.
Aki reaches up to adjust his tie, pulling on the diamond until it's straight, and you clear your throat a little awkwardly, trying to force down the butterflies in your stomach. He meets your eyes, and you exchange a wordless glance with him before tilting your head, signaling for him to follow you.
You start heading towards the other end of the club, occasionally glancing behind you to make sure he's still following. In no time, the crowd starts to get thicker. The music gets louder, the lights grow brighter. You're abruptly reminded of what you really hate about this club as everything gets so, so much more suffocating. You can't reach the private rooms without walking past the array of stages, so you're forced to get back into the thick of things. When you were in that quiet corner alone with Aki, you almost began to forget the level of chaos you have to deal with on a daily basis.
You find yourself shouldering through people, trying your best to avoid catching anyone's attention, all while Aki follows you at your heels — but when the crowd suddenly gets thicker than before, when he's worried he'll end up losing you, you hear his shoes scrape the tile as he shuffles closer, and his hand softly settles on your shoulder.
"Sorry." Aki says immediately, his voice a little muffled over the music and noise, but unmistakable nevertheless. He takes his hand away from you as if your skin was liquid hot fire and his palm just got burned.
But even so, it's like his touch is still there. It's like you can feel the ghost of where his gentle hand settled on your body.
He was touching your skin for barely more than a second, but it was enough to make your spine tingle, enough to give you a warm, melty feeling in the pit of your stomach — It felt comfortable, and that's something you've never felt before. Not since you started working here, and certainly not from the hands of a man like him. Until now.
You abruptly freeze in your tracks, and Aki stops not far behind you. Before he can say anything, you turn around and reach for his hand; you grab onto it tightly, firmly. When you glance up at him, you swear you can see his eyes widen in surprise, or maybe nervousness, or perhaps both, but he doesn't stop you, and you don't give him a chance to — You're quickly rushing ahead and returning to leading him along.
With his hand in yours, you find it difficult to focus, though. His palm is naturally cold, his skin is a bit rough; his thumb brushes against yours so softly your heart begins to ache. You find yourself accidentally walking too far and needing to turn around because you were so focused on the tender way he holds your hand that you ended up forgetting where you were going.
His fingers fold loosely over your knuckles; his hand is much, much larger than your own, it almost dwarfs yours entirely, and yours and his fit together in such a way that feels right, that makes you want for him to never let go.
And you know you're a little ridiculous for thinking so. You're getting too sappy, you're losing your mind. You know this man shouldn't be making your heart flutter so easily, with the faintest of touches and the simplest of words.
Yet, you can't help how you feel about him, you can't stop your cheeks from getting warm and your brain from stringing together thoughts of what's going to happen when the two of you are all alone again. Truly alone, with no-one else watching. You can't deny what Aki does to you, and you're sure he doesn't even know.
He has no idea how your heart is pounding in your chest as you reach the hallway and lead him down, or how your breath is coming out faster than it should be and you haven't even arrived at your destination yet. You're excited, giddy, your head spins with a high sort of sensation.
If you weren't slightly tipsy, and if you weren't in such a mood to make impulsive decisions right now, maybe you would be judging yourself more than this. You'd be thinking about something other than the feeling of Aki's hand, you wouldn't be smiling to yourself at the way he follows behind you so obediently.
Maybe you'd find what you're doing to be rather indecent. It's not like you're planning to take things any further with him — but when you know exactly where you're leading him to, you can't rule out the possibility.
Either way, whatever happens, you wager Aki doesn't know what he's getting into.
You glance behind you when you have a few seconds and you spot him looking around, observing the various rooms and entrances that litter the cramped hallway. Some of the rooms are open and spacious; they're more like lounge areas, really, with couches and tables sprawled across the space for many people to sit at. The couches are decorated with fluffy pillows, the tables are littered with finished-off drink glasses. He peers into one once you start to walk a little slower; a set of sheer curtains are drawn in front of the entryway, but it's still possible to see inside.
There's a man sitting comfortably in a leather loveseat, legs spread wide, and a dancer with long, flowing hair perched on his lap. His hands are tangled in her hair, her mouth is on his, and the last thing Aki sees before you tug him forwards and coax him along is the man's broad hands traveling down to cup the shape of the dancer's ass.
Oh.
The rooms get quieter the further you travel, more private, each one complete with colorful lighting and a large, luxurious bed. Most of them are empty, but when you pass the ones which have their doors closed, Aki swears he can hear what's going on inside.
The cooing tones of a dancer sweet-talking her patron, the tell-tale squeaks of the mattress. It makes his mouth go dry and his heart leap right inside his throat — Shit, shit, he thought this was something different, he didn't realize what a "private room" was supposed to be until now, and he feels ridiculously stupid for not realizing it sooner.
He's going to be alone, in a room just like those ones, with a bed, with just you.
Aki starts to walk a bit faster, closing some of the distance between you and him. You hear him right next to your ear, words quiet like a bitten whisper, laced with a sense of nervousness: "Hey, we're not, I mean, are you…"
His sudden voice makes you stop in place. You turn around to face him, staring at him curiously, waiting for him to finish his sentence.
Your eyes on him make him too nervous to piece together whatever he was actually meaning to say, so instead, he looks down at his shoes, he clears his throat, and he tries to come up with the next best thing.
"Isn't… Isn't this kind of thing illegal in Japan?"
"What is?"
Aki's practically sweating. The hallway is starting to feel a whole lot more cramped. "This. This whole… thing. You know what I mean."
His shyness is confirming what you previously figured to be true: that he's just now discovered what these private rooms are really for.
"Oh, prostitution?" You answer in realization, your tone completely lighthearted, like you aren't bothered in the slightest. "Yeah, but there's loopholes to get around it. Come on, this is the most popular club in the red-light district. Did you really think they wouldn't have it under control already?"
Aki's eyes flicker over your face. He stares at you, utterly dumbfounded.
"Listen, if someone wants to do… that sort of thing," You explain, "As long as they do it here, inside this club, they won't get in trouble for it. Besides, you devil hunters get special privileges anyway. If the police ever found out — Hell, even if they sat here and watched you do it, I doubt you'd get anything more than a slap on the wrist."
Aki squints. "So… it's still illegal."
"Well, duh. Are you planning to snitch to the cops or what?"
"I don't have time."
"Then less worrying, more walking." Your hand squeezes his; you signal with a tilt of your head for him to keep following you, but Aki keeps his feet planted firmly in place.
"Wait," He pipes up, his tone serious, "It's okay if we're back here, right? I don't want you to get in trouble."
You're silent for a little too long. "I mean, technically no."
If you could take a picture of the look on his face right in that moment, you would've. Aki's eyes go completely wide, his face washes a tone as white as his dress shirt and his lips fall open a little, just slightly ajar in confusion and astonishment and it's so damn cute that it's impossible for you to keep up the charade for any longer.
"Listen, listen, calm down," You squeeze his hand again, your smile is warm and the sight seems to start to put him at ease.
"I'm listening."
"The rooms back here are supposed to be for VIPs or private bookings only," You tell him, "But the boss frequently makes exceptions for special cases. For special people, I should say."
"Special people?"
"Yeah. Like devil hunters."
Aki's found his composure by now, mostly, at least; he meets your gaze with a blank expression and one eyebrow cocked. "Seems like devil hunters get away with a lot around here."
In response, you simply snort, playfully roll your eyes, and turn around to continue leading him further down the hallway. And this time, Aki swallows down his anxieties and follows behind without protest.
You drag him all the way to the end, to the furthest room at the very back, away from the noise and the people. It's similar to the rooms you've passed, Aki notices, but unlike them, this one has a door that features a shiny, gold plated label with the word, "VIP" carved into it, followed by a small logo of a fox. The doorknob is gold too, distinctly heart-shaped.
You stop, your hand finally tears away from his for what seems like the first time in ages — and you don't have time to dwell on how empty it feels because you're already closing your fingers into a fist and raising your knuckle to knock. You strike the door once, twice, to a chirpy rhythm. Nothing. You press your ear to it and listen, just in case.
When no-one replies, and when you hear nothing inside, you test the doorknob: unlocked. The door swings open with a quiet creak, and Aki follows you as you step inside.
The very first thing he notices is the plushness under his sneakers once he's stepped all the way in — He glances down, and the room's floor is adorned with fluffy, pink carpet, the fibers swallow up his shoes.
Then, when he looks up again, he sees the circular bed in the middle of the room, not unlike what he expected: neatly tucked in covers, a canopy over the top, and an array of poofy, luxurious-looking pillows spread out towards the headboard. It's noticeably fancier than the other beds he saw though, it has Aki wondering just how special this room is. Obviously it's meant for VIPs, and it doesn't take a genius to tell the whole room was decorated to fit… a very specific taste.
Not that he's got anything wrong with pink. There's just a lot of it, from the covers on the bed, to the walls painted a baby pink shade — The whole room is washed in shades of sunset and tulip, dimly lit and illuminated only by hot pink LED lights shining from the ceiling and under the bed, as well as by a warm, little lamp resting on a quaint bedside table.
It's quiet here, though. Quiet enough to hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and just as quiet as you said it'd be. Thank God. It feels nice to be able to think clearly for once.
A wooden mini bar is fit snugly into the right-hand corner, with empty wine and champagne glasses lined up on top, and bottles of various drinks stocked in the underside. Aki's shoulders slump, he sighs; That's right. You wanted to make him something to drink.
You hold the door open for him to step inside, and before you close it behind him, you snatch the "Do not disturb" sign from the inside doorknob, reaching around to hang it on the outside. When you shut the door, there's a very brief moment where you consider flicking the lock — but in the end, you decide to leave it alone.
The sign should be enough. And even if it isn't, does it matter if someone walks in? It doesn't, it shouldn't, because you're only having some drinks, right? You aren't going to be doing anything that you wouldn't want someone else to see. Right?
If you keep thinking about it for any longer, you might end up driving yourself insane.
So, figuring you've hovered at the entryway for long enough, you walk past Aki and make your way to the mini bar. You say as you pass him, "Feel free to make yourself comfortable."
He nods, and he's quick to follow your suggestion. His careful fingers pop each button on his suit jacket one by one, all the way until he's able to tug it from his arms, leaving him in his crisp white undershirt and tie. He hangs the jacket up neatly on a hook on the back of the door.
As you're bending down to look through what's stocked at the mini bar, he's sitting on the bed; you can see him out of the corner of your eye, his legs rested over one another, his arms crossed around his chest. You're bent over to the point where your outfit is riding up, it's revealing more of your ass and your thighs and Aki shouldn't be looking, but he swears he catches the smallest glimpse of what you're wearing underneath before he swiftly looks elsewhere and tries to forget about it, which thankfully, he does right as you're peering at him from over your shoulder.
You notice how his dress shirt is tucked neatly into his slacks, how a simple, leather belt is snugly clasped in the loops. He's perched on the very edge of the bed, as if he's too nervous to sit any further back, too shy to really let himself relax — At least, in the way the room's intended. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and the martini glasses hung on the rack all clink together when you grab two of them: one for him, and one for you.
"So, Hayakawa," You start, giving him a second quick glance from over your shoulder. "What kind of drink would you like?"
"Oh," Aki grasps the diamond of his tie, pulling on it to work it loose while his gaze travels across the room. He examines the bar, the glittery curtains surrounding the bed, the small set of red, leather armchairs placed in the opposite corner. "Anything is fine. Surprise me."
You're digging around in the compact mini fridge sat next to the bar when you ask, "You like champagne, right?"
"Sure."
"Alright, good. You'll like this then."
Once you've found everything you need, you start to prepare the drinks. There's a small basket of fresh lemons and limes resting atop the bar counter, and you grab a lemon to slice into wedges.
Aki tilts his head, he tries to watch what you're doing, but the only thing he can manage to see is your back, and all he can do is listen to the sound of the champagne being poured. He decides he'll give the room another once-over while he waits.
He turns around, then, and he comes to notice the wall behind him for the first time. It's covered in hooks and racks, with an assortment of items hung up on them; most he doesn't recognize, but he can make out what looks like a leather, spiked dog collar. A matching black leash. A pair of metal handcuffs.
There's a long object that looks like some kind of whip, with a thick handle adorned by red, painted-on heart shaped marks. But when he's struggling to decide what the majority of these things are for, Aki starts to second guess himself on his initial assumption.
He immediately looks away, a familiar prickle of anxiety twists up his spine, the same sense of nervousness he felt earlier in the hallway — And that's when his eyes catch on the nightstand. Right below the lamp, right beside the dark ashtray littered with countless cigarette butts, there's a clear plastic container stocked up of what Aki first thought were wipes, or maybe mints.
Upon a closer look at the packaging, though, he realizes they couldn't be anything else but the one thing he didn't want them to be: unopened packets of condoms.
Fucking condoms. Of course. He really shouldn't have expected anything different.
"Hayakawa."
When you've turned back around, the finished drinks in hand, Aki is hastily trying to redo his tie with a flustered expression on his face, cheeks and the tips of his ears painted rosy pink. Your voice shakes him out of his daze. It causes him to look towards you, his eyes meeting yours.
"Are you okay?" You walk towards him, you reach to place the glasses on the nightstand. Right next to the condoms that you most definitely know are there but so clearly aren't at all affected by.
Maybe he's overthinking. No, he's definitely overthinking this, he's definitely getting way too worked up over something so stupid and obvious. There's no reason for him to be freaking out. He needs to get it together, so why can't he? Why is he so damn nervous whenever he's around you?
Get it together, get it together…
As he stays silent, you continue, "What happened? You look pale."
"Sorry… I'm sorry." Aki uncrosses his legs and looks away. "It's fine. It's nothing."
His clear awkwardness can't help but draw a quiet laugh from you.
"You nervous?"
"I'm not."
"I think you are." You tilt your head at him, smirking a little. Aki doesn't answer, he simply keeps fiddling with his tie, running the smooth fabric beneath his fingers, twirling it into loops before letting go of it again.
Oh, he knows what he's gotten himself into now. He probably knew it from the moment you led him down the hallway, but now that he's all alone with you, everything must be really starting to set in.
"You'll be alright. Just try to relax, yeah? Here-"
You suddenly lean in close to him, and Aki thinks his heart might have skipped a beat — Or two, or three. You grasp his tie and his arms fall at his sides once you start to tug it free from his collar, he forgets how to breathe when you undo it, tossing it on the bed nonchalantly and reaching next for the buttons on his dress shirt.
He thinks of stopping you. He wants to force a cold-sounding What are you doing? from his mouth but it's no use; he's already given in.
"Let's loosen some of these for you."
With gentle fingers, you pop the first button on his dress shirt, and then the second; your ministrations expose his pretty collarbones, defined and curved, as well as the smallest part of his chest, his skin slightly scarred, flushed rose to match the color of his face. Aki's gaze goes heavy, his eyelashes flutter.
You're close, you're so close. You're so close and he doesn't know how to get his heartbeat to slow down, he has no idea what the hell's gotten into him — You graciously give him a bit of reprieve by leaning back and letting go, allowing him just enough space to breathe freely again.
"Better?" You ask, before he can reply you're reaching down to unzip your knee-high boots and starting to take them off. "You can take off your shoes, too."
Aki pauses, but in the end, he decides to listen to your suggestion; he steps firmly on the heel of his sneakers until he's able to carelessly kick them off his feet.
Then, you grab the drinks on the nightstand, you hand him his cocktail and bring yours to your mouth.
Aki peers into the glass. The liquid is a pale shade of pink, not much different from the color of the bedsheets, and the rim is topped with a bright yellow lemon. Cubes of ice jingle inside the glass when he experimentally swirls it.
"I made this batch pretty good." You comment, half to him and half to yourself. Taking a small sip of your drink, you finish it off with a satisfied, Ahh.
"What is it?"
"Pink lemonade mimosa. It's my favorite. Maybe it's kind of… not really your style. But I thought you might end up liking it anyway."
Aki looks up at you for a moment, then back down at his drink. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, he closes his eyes, and he brings the glass up to his lips.
The taste is a sweet one. Lemonade and sugar are the main components, the champagne is more of an aftertaste. It's citrusy, the lemonade lessens the acidity of the champagne. He can see why you'd like this. It tastes like the warmth from the summer sun.
When Aki meets your eyes again, you're staring at him expectantly.
"What do you think?"
"It's good," He answers honestly, "Really good. I like it."
You flash him a warm smile. "Great. I'm glad."
For a while after you speak those words, the room grows oddly quiet. Aki continues to nurse his drink in silence, his expression unreadable, his cheeks flourished with warmth, and you occasionally take sips from yours while allowing your mind to wander.
Since the both of you first walked in this room, Aki's been acting strange.
When you met him, you thought you had him all figured out. He's honest to the point where you assumed he had nothing to hide. He comes off as determined, the serious type, not necessarily cold-hearted, but certainly grounded when it comes to how he presents himself. Even though you knew he was a bit shy about being here, he didn't seem like the type of person who'd get flustered this easily, nor the kind of man who'd stick around for this long. You fully expected him to turn you away the minute he figured out where you were taking him.
You wonder if he's just too polite to tell you no. You question if maybe, there's something occupying his mind, something he hasn't told you yet. You knew there were still a lot of things you didn't understand about him. Still so much you need to learn, so much you so desperately want to know — but you're running out of time.
Your thoughts flash to the busy club. Your boss is probably starting to look for you now, the guests you were talking to before you went on your break are probably beginning to wonder where you went. Once you've finished your drink, you'll have to go right back into the fray — and that realization immediately forces a heavy weight of worry upon your shoulders.
You have only a few more moments with the man you've come to know. Aki will leave, you'll leave. After tonight, you won't expect to be seeing him again. You'll go back to boredom and he'll go back to working himself half to death. And then, you'll be nothing but strangers once more.
It's possible Aki would forget you as quickly as he met you. You wouldn't bother to cross his mind, he might not even remember your name. And why would he have to? This experience would be nothing but a bad memory and a reminder to never again let himself get dragged to places he's already sure he doesn't want to go to.
But you wouldn't forget him.
There's something about Aki Hayakawa that would be impossible to forget. He's kind-hearted, he's softer than any other devil hunter you've come across. He consistently puts you before himself and fuck, he doesn't even know you. It's just the kind of person he is: selfless to a fault.
You're drawn to him, you've felt drawn to him from the start. You think you're good at reading people, you have a keen sense for whether or not someone is genuine. Your trust in Aki hasn't wavered. He isn't like any of the other men you've encountered while working here; honestly, it's almost unfair to compare the two. He's wildly different from anything and everything you've come to expect.
It's a bit of a new feeling for you. The pitter-pattering of your heart, the giddy twist and bloom in your chest. You haven't felt this way about anyone in ages, you haven't been enamored this strongly, this limitlessly in perhaps forever.
You want to show Aki a good time, you want to find a way to make this night truly worth his while. And it's not just because you feel bad about the unfortunate circumstances which brought him here, even though you're certain you'll be chewing out his coworker later. It isn't because devil hunters like him are known for having lined pockets, you could care less about his money. And it certainly isn't only because this is your job.
You want to help him relax because you've grown to care about him, because you want to be closer to him. Aki is more than he lets on; his soul is something tender, intricate. There's sides to him you haven't seen, pieces yet to fall into place. You want to open up his heart to uncover what he's kept hidden, what he wouldn't tell anyone else besides someone like you because in reality, it's easier to divulge your secrets to someone who rests between the realm of close and distant — to someone you hardly even know.
Giving him whatever he wants is the least you can do for him, because whenever you're close, you can practically feel the stress clinging to him like an anchor into hell. You couldn't help but notice the faint cross-hatchings of scars on his chest when you unbuttoned his shirt, or the rough calluses on his knuckles when you held his hand.
If there's one thing you're sure of, it's this: you aren't ready for this night to be over.
If you won't forget him, you'll make it so he won't ever forget you.
You've been enjoying your cocktail the whole time you were thinking, but you decide to give it one more sip; you savor the last delicious taste of lemonade and sparkling wine on your tongue. Then, you smile at him, and you promptly break the silence.
"I like your earrings."
You catch him off guard right away, and Aki's gaze flickers up to your own, his shoulders stiffening slightly. He politely covers his mouth with his palm, swallowing the rest of his drink and clearing his throat before speaking.
"Oh, uhm- Thank you." — His response is curt, his voice carries his familiar sense of professionalism but it still wavers with a hint of awkwardness, with a bit of disbelief, almost. He sounds shy, he closes his eyes and takes another idle sip of his drink. He obviously isn't used to being complimented.
With no hesitation, you boldly ask, "Can I touch them?"
"Ah-" Aki reaches up with his free hand, brushing his fingers over the circular piercing on his lobe like he's checking if they're still there. "My earrings?"
"Mhmm."
His eyes dart over you, up and down. "Uh, sure."
Tossing your head back, you top off the rest of your cocktail, reaching over and setting the empty glass on the nightstand once you're finished. You take a step towards him, close enough to make your knees bump into his. You bend down, and slowly, you reach out to pinch his lobes between your index finger and your thumb.
Aki's gaze stays trained on you, deep blue irises sparked with wonder, with adoration. His expression is blank, he's wordless, but the increases in his breathing and his pretty eyes — Those are a dead giveaway. The backs of his earrings are spikes of pointy metal, and the front are round, they're smooth and glossy to the touch. They reflect subtle glimmers of the room's pinkish light whenever you tilt them.
"They're so pretty." You peer at Aki through your lashes, you're almost certain you see his eyes widen. "Did they hurt? Where did you get them done?"
"Not really, they only hurt for a second," Aki answers earnestly, his voice resolute. "And it was some piercing shop in Kanagawa… It's been a while, so I don't remember the name. I'm sorry."
"It's alright. That's not too far from here, I could go. I'm sure I'll end up finding it."
Your fingertips brush Aki's bangs behind his ears softly, and he sighs, barely audible, gaze never tearing away from yours like he's mesmerized. He's busy swallowing the thick lump in his throat as you abruptly pull away from him.
You stand up straight, placing your hands on your hips. "I got some piercings done when I was on vacation, but I was thinking of getting my ears pierced too."
"You… You have piercings?" Aki glances to your ears; unlike his, your lobes are completely bare. When he squints, he can't even see a hole.
"Mhm, I do." You nod, and Aki finishes off the rest of his drink while you talk. "You sound surprised. Are you?"
"A little."
"I think they suit me. Sucks that they're hidden most of the time, though."
Aki's face pinches into an expressive concoction of disbelief and confusion. He looks so ridiculous; you manage to stifle a couple of your giggles, but it's not long before you're practically doubling over and bursting into laughter.
"What's so funny?" Aki doesn't get it.
"It's… It's just…"
The alcohol is starting to hit your system now, surely. You're giddy and your veins are buzzing, your head is as light as air. You certainly aren't drunk — you haven't had anywhere near enough drinks for that. But you're tipsy enough to start feeling the effects. You normally don't laugh so hard at something so stupid.
After clearing your throat, you regain your composure. "The way you were looking at me was really funny. Like you were trying to figure out where they are."
"Will you tell me where they are, then?" Aki asks bluntly while he reaches over to set his empty drink next to yours on the nightstand.
You press a finger to your chin. "Mmmm. How about this, I'll let you guess."
You weren't sure if he would agree to your game, but to your satisfaction, you watch as Aki takes you in, his arms crossing, eyes drawing a line from the bottom of your feet up to the top of your head. His short brows scrunch up a bit, his lips purse as he thinks.
Finally, with a straight face, he answers in complete confidence: "Your tongue."
Nope. You smirk and stick your tongue out at him, revealing absolutely nothing but a bit of a hot-pink tinge left by the food coloring in your drink.
"I'll give you a hint. It's lower."
"... Bellybutton?" Aki sounds a little more unsure of himself this time.
"No. Higher."
Aki's eyes narrow. "Higher, alright, so…"
It's as if you're literally watching him think: he stares at where your outfit hugs your stomach, and then his gaze trails, up, up, up until his eyes are going completely wide because he's sure he figured out the answer and it's making him picture something he really doesn't think he should be picturing.
He feels uncomfortable just sitting there staring at your chest like an idiot, so he clears his throat, he looks up to meet your eyes. He's trying to gauge whether his assumption is right or not by the expression on your face — You answer him with a satisfied, smug sort of grin.
"Figure it out?"
Aki doesn't reply, he can't reply. What the hell is he supposed to reply with? His mouth opens for a second like he wants to speak, but he instead opts to close it and gnaw on his bottom lip until the skin is coming off. He folds his hands delicately in his lap, he fiddles with his own thumbs awkwardly.
"Aw, come on." You tease, playful, "Do you not believe me? Would it help if you saw them?"
"Ah, no, no!" Aki raises his hands up defensively, his cheeks are heating into a pale shade of red. "There's no need for that, okay, I'm sorry, I believe you, so you don't..."
"Calm down," You interrupt when he starts to trail off, huffing a half-hearted chuckle, "You're so adorable. I know you believe me, I'm just messing with you."
Your words calm him down a bit, and Aki's body relaxes, his tense shoulders slumping, his expression softening. His voice comes out quiet and he's staring down at his hands when he says, "It… It didn't sound like you were messing around. Sorry."
"Don't apologize when you haven't done anything wrong. You do that way too much."
"Oh, I'm sor-" Aki cuts himself off before he does the exact thing you just told him not to do. "Right. Okay. Noted."
You give him a couple seconds to simmer; your arms come to cross loosely around your chest, Aki sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, a rosy-pink hue still dusted across his face.
Then, "Your ponytail is cute, too."
"Oh, that's- You think so?" He's instantly flustered. The warmth under his cheeks reignites, his hands feel clammy; he opens and closes them on his lap while averting his eyes. "I- I didn't really… I didn't notice. Or, uh, that sounds stupid, I mean I didn't plan for it to… Well, I wasn't trying to make it…"
Suddenly, he freezes — He lets his arms go limp and he exhales a heavy, defeated breath. "I can't even speak."
"You're okay," You chuckle, "I get what you're saying. Or trying to say, I guess."
By now, Aki's pretty much gone silent, fiddling with his fingers, crossing them over one another — but you capture his attention again when you step in close to him, leaning down until you're more level with his height. His shy gaze locks into yours, eyelids heavy, eyes hazy.
"Hey." You're speaking quietly, your smooth tone is barely enough to make him shiver. "Is it okay if I take your hair down?"
"If-" Aki's breath shakes, "If you want to."
"Mmm, as much as I like the topknot I think it'll be more comfortable with it down, no?" You hum, voice saccharine sweet, smile warm and inviting; Aki is so entranced he almost doesn't notice you're already reaching up to grasp his hair tie.
You tug on it slowly, all the way until his dark hair is free to fall loosely around his face, still kinked in the back from being held up for so long. Aki's breath hitches, his heart starts to thud harder in his chest. You slip his black hair tie around your wrist, and then you carefully brush the messier strands of hair from his eyes: the slightest touch, but it makes his whole body tingle with exhilaration.
"Can I play with your hair?"
Before he even gives himself the chance to think twice, Aki is nodding his head hesitantly, obediently. Like a puppy, following along to the pace you've set while he eagerly hangs onto your every word. He would love that.
You lean in a little bit further. You lift your knee and slot it into the space between his legs, resting it on the edge of the bed to keep yourself steadier.
Gently, your fingers begin to run through his soft hair, starting at the bottom near his neck and traveling up through his scalp, ruffling it as you go until a few strands stick up from the static. Electricity twists from Aki's head to his spine, he exhales a heavy, relaxed sort of sigh; his eyelashes flutter, his body melts.
God, he's pretty.
You knew he was, you've thought he looked like the prettiest man you've ever seen from the moment you met him. But when he looks like this, long hair let down to tickle the back of his neck, to fall in loose, choppy strands and to frame his handsome face oh-so perfectly — He's so damn pretty you couldn't possibly put it into words.
Yet still, you try to, you pull away for a second to tuck some locks behind his ear and quietly whisper, "Why do you keep your hair up, Hayakawa? You're so pretty like this."
"I…" Aki stutters a little, he looks away and takes a deep, shuddery breath in to try and maintain his cool. To pretend like your compliments aren't affecting him. He'll try and change the subject.
"I don't want it to get in my eyes. And I always let it grow out because… sometimes I cut it off. For devil contracts."
You're raising an eyebrow and staring at him in confusion while you separate three thick strands of hair near the front of his face. "What kind of devil would ask for something so weird? I assumed they'd only want stuff like blood and flesh, or bones, maybe. I didn't know a Hair Devil was a thing."
"It's not like that," Aki counters, "Some devils are friendlier with humans than others, so the contracts they offer have looser terms. I have a contract with the Fox Devil. When it gets bored of what I usually give to it, I chop off some of my hair to feed it as a treat."
The way his explanation is given with a flat tone and a totally straight face, as if everything he said was completely normal only adds more to your perplexity. You must know way less about devils than you thought.
You cross each strand of his hair over one another, loosely but intricately. "Y'know, I've heard of many different kinds of contracts, I've seen a lot of devil hunters give up a lot of different things. But I've never heard of something like that."
Aki shrugs. "It's unlikely. Most devils aren't so lenient. I never complain about our contract because hair is the easiest thing any of them could ask of me."
"Yeah? What else do they ask for?"
"It's usually the sorts of things you said. Skin, flesh, blood, body parts. Some ask for years off your life."
You pause. "And you're okay with giving it to them?"
Aki answers quickly and concisely: "If I want to stand any kind of a chance against them, I have to make some sacrifices."
Sensing the strain lingering in his voice, you stay silent after that remark.
You pull away to admire your work: a small, loose braid is arranged behind his bangs but right in front of his ear, trailing down to just above his shoulder. You hold it in your hand, and you give it one last look before gently undoing it with your finger and your thumb.
Then, your hand trails down to hold his face, Aki shivers as you cup his jaw, brushing the pad of your thumb over his cheek. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, your fingertips trailing down, tracing his neck. Both of your palms come to rest finally in the middle of his broad shoulders.
You look up at him, meeting his eyes, searching for confirmation. "Is it okay if I touch you here?"
Aki offers you a shallow, nervous nod in response.
You start by giving his shoulders a tentative squeeze, rolling the muscle between your fingers and your palm, feeling the stiff knots of tension that linger there. When Aki doesn't protest, letting out a soft grunt, his eyes closing, you start to massage him more thoroughly, more deliberately. You apply pressure to the edge of his shoulder blades, you rub firm circles into the space surrounding his spine.
In no time, you're watching his eyes practically roll into the back of his head. He's settling back more comfortably onto the bed the longer your hands stay on him, pressing his palms flat at his sides, leaning his weight onto his arms to keep himself steady.
"You're reeeeally tense," You coo, strands of Aki's hair tickling your knuckles as you work, "You must be so stressed, aren't you?"
Considering how much he's already begun to relax, you weren't really expecting a reply out of him, but Aki manages to answer with a simple nod and with his voice blissed out: "Yeah, super stressed. I can't catch a break. The whole division… it's been crazy."
It's a lot more detail than you expected him to divulge; maybe the relaxation is what coaxes him to be more talkative.
"Do they not treat you very good over there?" You ask.
There's a pause, as if for a few fleeting seconds, he's considering how much he should tell you, whether or not he should tell the truth about how he really feels. It'll mean speaking ill about Public Safety, something he really shouldn't do, especially to someone who works for a business so closely tied to their affairs. The commission wants companies to only hear good things, things like how strong and brave and commendable devil hunters are, how many benefits and funds Public Safety gives them.
In the end though, another press of your fingers right up against his pressure points causes him to cave.
"Not really," Aki shakes his head, he huffs a discontented sigh, "There's good benefits. Decent pay. Paid time off, too. But… it feels like I'm the one who gets stuck with all the difficult jobs these days."
You crook an eyebrow, giving his muscles a particularly firm squeeze. "Oh?"
Aki's eyelids flutter, his brows furrowing, and he continues, "My boss, she stuck me with these two… idiots. Normally it doesn't matter who I work with, but they've been getting on my last nerve. So loud and… unruly. I don't have any time alone anymore."
"A bunch of trouble-makers, huh? And you've gotta be responsible for them? That's not fair."
"Uh-huh… And ever since they joined, the division's been nothing but insanity. There's so many devils- Every mission is just more complicated and more stressful than the last."
"Awe," Your voice is soft, "Sounds like there's a lot you have to deal with, I'm sorry. Hah, so that's why Mister Kishibe said you needed to get somewhere to relax, huh?"
Your hands travel further backward, slipping underneath his shirt, palms rubbing the middle of his back. Aki hums, he nods his head, "Yeah…"
You give his back one more massage, his shoulders one last squeeze. You appreciate the look of total relaxation on his face: his eyes closed, lips slightly parted. Your hands move once more, this time carefully holding onto the very edge of each shoulder.
"Can I touch your arms?"
Aki's eyes flutter open. He meets your gaze, he's barely there, and he replies with a peaceful, hardly audible, Mhmm.
Glancing down, you let your hands slip over his smooth sleeves, to his biceps. You give them a little bit of a squeeze — Your touch is teasing and light, enough to make him sigh, and enough to allow you to feel the firm muscle beneath.
You stare into his eyes: his are nervous, misty. Yours are sparked with something he can't make sense of.
"You're so strong."
"I-" Aki trails off, warmth rises in his cheeks and he tries his best to keep his eyes locked onto you. "It's- it's mostly from training. I used to work out too, but now I… I don't have time anymore."
"Oh, really?" You rub his arms gently, in a comforting sort of motion. Up, slowly, and then down, even slower. "What kind of training? Like training to fight devils?"
"Yes. And sword fighting. Boxing, sometimes."
"Mmm, I bet you're a really good devil hunter, huh?"
Aki doesn't answer. He's warm all over, he feels his heart shake in his ribs. He lets your words toss around in his head, he simply watches with his lips pursed and his face flushed as you reach for the end of the sleeve on his dress shirt.
You start with the cuff, folding it up and over itself, and then you roll his sleeve all the way up to his elbow before doing the same to the other side. Aki observes each of your movements complacently, with heavy eyelids and an expectant gaze. His breath gets stuck in his throat the moment your fingers start to caress his bare forearms.
You trace his mismatch of scars beneath your fingertips, crosshatches of ridges carved into his skin. Some feel long, straight. Following the same direction in a way which makes them come across somewhat like claw marks.
Some are more jagged, deeper, shallower. Larger or smaller, more prominent than the others. Clearly caused by something stronger, or something weaker. Maybe a few of them have the possibility of fading away. But most of them feel deep enough to brand him forever.
You glance down, you hold his arms delicately in your hands, "So many scars."
Your voice is quiet, your tone puts him at ease. And you're touching him so softly, so gently, more tender than he's ever known — Aki shudders. He shudders and shudders and shudders, his heart shakes his ribcage and his emotions constrict his lungs, tight and crushing. You're touching him softer than he thinks he deserves.
"They're pretty." You say, utterly earnest.
Aki sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.
"I can keep touching you here, right? It's not uncomfortable?"
"Yes." He answers shakily. "It's fine."
You have another question for him: "Are these all from devils?"
"Uh-huh," Aki's voice is low, a bit fragile, slightly trembling, "And devil contracts."
"Contracts too, huh?" You feel the length of one of the largest marks under your thumb, and Aki flinches. "There's so many. I was trying to count them but… they keep crossing over one another. I lost track."
Your hands glide downwards until you're reaching for his own, squeezing them tightly, turning them over and beginning to massage the muscles in his palms with your thumbs. Effortlessly, he's melting, focused fully on your touches — on your adoration.
"How long have you been in deals with devils? Or how long have you been hunting them?"
Aki answers with a huff of exhaustion. "My whole life."
"That's…" Your gaze goes soft, "It must be so hard, isn't it? And something tells me you never give yourself a chance to relax, 'cause you're always so busy getting worked to the bone."
"Mhmm." Aki nods. He feels weak. Like he could collapse, and it would be right into your arms.
"You really go through so much." You squeeze his hands again, more deliberately this time. "Hey, is it okay if I ask you something? Something sort of personal."
"That's fine."
"Do you like killing devils, Hayakawa?"
Your question takes him by surprise. Does he like killing devils? Aki isn't sure if he's ever thought about it. You're the first person who's ever asked him.
Sure, it's true some devil hunters get a thrill out of it — Kishibe comes to mind. But not him. Killing devils is just something Aki has to do, something he needs to do. It's a necessity in this world. It's his job to do so. It's what he's chosen to do with his life, and once he made his decision, there was no turning back.
And while it once made him proud to slay something tough, or happy to be able to save someone, or satisfied to find another chunk of the Gun Devil's flesh, it's been a long, long time since devil hunting has made him feel anything but empty. Empty and hurt when he watches another one of his colleagues die. Empty and lonesome when he spends another night alone on his balcony, wondering if he'll have the time to show up at their funeral. Anger once fueled him, but these days he isn't even given the satisfaction of feeling that much.
He hates when he has to search another devil's dead body and blood gets caked under his fingernails, it clings to the crevices in his palms and he knows no matter what he tries the marks of red aren't going to wash out. He hates constantly having to purchase new clothes for work because his suits and his shirts are always getting irreversibly stained. Even once he's home, even after he's spent ages in the shower scrubbing himself clean of every trace of them, there's still the marks they've left, there's still the thoughts in his head that won't leave.
He hates when he gets itchy scabs from peeling off his own skin for contracts, he hates when he has to skip meals because of urgent missions only to end up feeling sick the moment he tries to eat anything, he hates waking up in the middle of the night with his heart pounding and his body caked in sweat because of another stupid, frightening nightmare.
He hates devils, yes. Almost everyone who's a devil hunter does. It's why they do it. But sometimes he hates this vicious, maddeningly endless cycle even more.
So, Aki shakes his head, and he concludes, "I guess not. I don't find it enjoyable."
You stay silent for a moment before you ask, "Then why do it?"
"It's…" Aki hesitates, he averts his eyes, he feels you turn over his hands and brush his knuckles with your thumbs.
He glances down, and you're examining them like they're the most interesting thing in the world, staring with half-lidded eyes at the bruises on his battered knuckles, at the faint scars on his fingers. His nails are trimmed short, they're well manicured. His fingers are long, slender. His palms are fit with rough calluses in the shape of the hilt of his sword.
A deep sigh is expelled from his lungs, "I have to. Or, I don't have to, I'm not being forced, it's just difficult to explain. So I can't- I'm not sure if I…"
"It's alright." You reassure him. "You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."
He knows he doesn't need to. If you were anybody else, if there wasn't something about you that makes him trust you so goddamn much he probably would have answered by now with something like, It's because it's my job, or, It's because I hate devils. He's used those same excuses countless times before.
Aki doesn't have to open up to you, but he wants to, and more than anything he feels like he can.
"I…" Aki starts, he swallows thickly, he wills his voice not to shake and when you wrap your fingers around his hands and squeeze, he closes his thumbs, holds you back.
"I want to kill the Gun Devil. I'm sure that's something you've heard before. Plenty of devil hunters are after the same thing." Aki's lips purse. He shouldn't be telling you this, but, "In order to find it, the government has to track down its pieces, which involves enlisting devil hunters to kill devils who've ingested them. Then, as an individual, you need to have your record full of successful hunts on strong devils in order to qualify to fight the Gun, which means killing even more of them."
The room is infinitely more silent. The sound of his own voice in his eardrums seems so, so much louder.
He continues, "I know there's little chance of success. People tell me I've been wasting my time. And I know I am," His hands clench tighter, they squeeze yours harder, "I know it's all a waste, but I can't quit, there's nothing left for me if I do. I don't care what happens, I don't care if the Gun Devil kills me, I just-"
He pauses, inhales a deep breath. Exhales a long, trembling one.
"It took everything from me. I watched it take everything from me. I have to kill it, I don't have a choice. I have to."
You understand. There's no way you wouldn't, you understand exactly what he means, because truly, it is everything you've heard before.
You couldn't count the number of times you've seen a devil hunter who was after the same exact mission. Since you started working here, you've met a lot of Gun Devil chasers. They come because they're lonely, because they've lost their wives or their families to tragedy, and they desperately need something to fill the void.
Or, they visit the club because they're hunters who are so wrapped up in the pursuit of killing the thing they've driven themselves damn near insane. They work themselves nearly to death, they push everyone away in their pursuits for revenge and don't realize how badly they need the affection of another until it's far too late. Not the fake kind the club can bring them. Real, earnest affection.
Aki is that kind of devil hunter, it seems. Not one who got into it for the thrill, or for the paycheck, or for the attention. But just someone who's hurt. Someone who's been wronged by devils, by this world, and now seeks for any way to counteract that pain, even if it means inflicting more upon himself.
When it comes down to it, you can't help but feel for him, especially now that you've seen how kindhearted he can be, how utterly devoted he is to his job — despite the way he's treated and what he has to go through. Knowing what you know now, everything starts to make so much more sense.
You continue to stare down at his hands silently, thinking to yourself. You brush his knuckles with your thumbs tenderly, you flip his hands over and stroke the intricate future lines on his palms. Soft indents, marks of fate.
It takes you a couple of moments to realize he's started to shake.
His breath comes out uneven, short. The tremors travel from his hands to his arms to his shoulders, and his body tenses up from the pressure of trying to control them. He's rooted in place with his back hunched and his head held down, messy bangs hiding the solemn expression on his face.
Aki attempts to keep his composure, he focuses on steadying his breathing. It's difficult when his heart is working against him, when it's twisted and pulled and pinched in his chest. He exhales a nice, deep breath. In, and then out. In, out. Don't break.
But his bottom lip won't stop quivering, and he hates it; he can't help but draw it between his teeth and bite down hard enough to hurt. His horrible brain and your tenderness, your voice and your touch and every little thing to have to do with you amounts to more than he can take, so overwhelming.
This shouldn't happen. He utters weak little sounds that make the entirety of his frame shake with them. This is stupid, he doesn't even know why he's crying, God, he's so stupid — He's breaking down right in front of you, and he isn't strong enough to stop it.
"Hey, wait."
Your voice sounds muffled in his ears, as if you're speaking through layers of static. You give his hands a patient squeeze and he squeezes back hard, tightly, almost desperately. You ask, "Are you okay?"
Aki nods his head, but it isn't very convincing; he's silent, wet droplets of tears slip from his cheeks to plop onto his arms, your hands, his knees. They soak into your skin, they leave faded marks on the fabric of his slacks.
He tries to open his mouth and say something, anything, but his throat's gone dry, his jaw is clenched up tight. His lips can't seem to mouth the words. And he can't see a thing, his vision is blurry; colors meld together, your arms and his legs and the floor underneath him blend into one until it all becomes nothing more than a single, faded shape. Aki cries silently and weakly, sucking in sharp breaths through his teeth, gripping your hands — yours — as if they're a lifeline.
He squeezes his eyes shut, willing his tears to stop, and like you can sense it, your hand comes to carefully cup the shape of his jaw. Your palm is warm, your touch is the gentlest thing he thinks he's ever felt. You tilt his head up, coaxing his teary gaze to meet yours. Despite how difficult it is, Aki keeps it there. There's a tender look in your eyes, in your expression, something he can't tear away from.
He's pretty. He's so pretty, even like this.
You wipe the tears from his stained cheeks with your thumb. Your closeness makes his breath hitch, your touch starts to settle the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach. Whether he realizes it or not, he relaxes, he leans into your palm. With soothing words and a quiet tone, you reassure him. Just breathe, it's okay, you're alright. It's okay.
He knows damn well this is stupid. He knows he's such a fool. He's an idiot for crying so much, for shaking and pitifully sobbing like he hasn't done since he was young, all while clutching the hands of someone he barely knows — and yet, those hands in his are the only thing keeping him from falling apart even worse than he already has. No, with every squeeze and brush of your careful fingers, the longer you spend holding his cheek, other hand still connected, you're putting him back together.
For the life of him, Aki can't figure out why.
If he was stronger, perhaps he'd be able to pick up the pieces himself. He wouldn't shift his burdens onto you. He'd wipe his own tears and get away with giving you some half-assed excuse to make you forget all about this, all about him.
That would be so much better, right? It would be, because your hands don't belong in his, soft and warm and perfect in rough and cold and battle-scarred. You're wasting your time, and Aki wonders if you know that already. Is this merely an obligation, has your kindness been nothing more than a job you need to do?
Even if it is, you should have left a long, long time ago. Yet for whatever reason, you haven't. You've stayed. And that's what confuses him more than anything. Why, why are you like this?
Aki keeps his wavering focus on your voice and your face. He's long since forgotten what this felt like, he can't remember the last time anyone cared to comfort him, since anyone held him, whispering such sweet words for his soul to latch onto. He didn't realize until now how much this could mean, how good it could feel to be kept, to finally be known.
It's a scary thought. It's scary to think you mean so much to him already. You're nothing more than strangers, yet the thought of you leaving, of everything ending right then and there hurts.
He starts to breathe deeply, he listens to the echo of your words and syncs up his breathing with the pattern of your own: in and then out, rhythmic and languid. Slowly but surely, everything begins to feel alright again. You wipe the rest of his tears away, and he steadies.
Your gentle thumb caresses his cheek one more time. "Are you alright? Can you talk to me? What's wrong?"
Aki sniffles. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the back of his hand, at the same time half-heartedly pushing yours away.
"Nothing," He answers, tone icy, but his voice still cracks around the edges in a way he can't manage to hide. "I'm fine."
"You weren't fine two seconds ago."
"I'm fine now."
You pause, your hand lingering in the space between him and yourself as you debate whether or not to reach out for him again. Your eyes flicker over his face, he continues to stare at the ground. You're sure he's going to stay silent. But that's okay.
"I'm sorry. It hurts, doesn't it?"
Your voice sounds so, so genuine. Aki's heart sinks down into his stomach.
"You didn't deserve for any of that to happen to you. God, you've been through so much. All of it, I just- I couldn't even imagine."
Aki swallows the lump in his throat, and he replies, "Don't apologize. It's okay."
"It's not okay," You retort sharply, "It isn't okay for you to have to deal with getting treated like crap, on top of all those difficult missions, and on top of the stress from trying to hunt down that damn devil. It just isn't."
"I'm used to it. I knew what I signed up for when I took this job."
Your expression pinches. "Yeah, and I'm saying you deserve better. Better than whatever it is you're used to. Do you not think so?"
"I-"
He starts to answer, but he trails off before he can get anywhere. His eyes go wide, he glances away.
No, no he doesn't think so, but he couldn't explain that to you, he wouldn't even know where to begin. Everything he's ever done, every sacrifice, each and every devil he's slaughtered — It's all been in service of some sort of debt he feels he needs to repay. It was him who lived, it was him who survived when the rest of his family had their lives ripped away from them. He's the one with weight to carry. He's the one who got his brother killed.
And it's him who's watched colleague after colleague, friend after friend die right in front of his eyes, while each time he's been powerless to stop it. When those people fought so hard only to end up in their graves, never able to take another breath, who the hell is he to want something more, something easier? When he's the one who failed to keep them safe, if he stopped fighting for even a moment, how would he be able to live with himself?
This is just the way his life is, the way it always will be. This is the only thing he's known ever since he can remember.
And fuck, he can't say that to you. God knows he's said enough already.
Aki purses his lips into a thin line, his eyes flash with a more than obvious spark of guilt. If his hands folded in his lap, clenched and trembling weren't enough, the look on his face surely tells you all you need to know.
You sigh, and you let your arms fall limp at your sides. "You're so ridiculous."
Aki stays silent for a couple of seconds like he hasn't realized, and then suddenly, his eyebrows furrow, his gaze flickers up to your own. "What?"
"You heard me. You're being ridiculous. And totally stupid."
"What the hell do you mean?" He pouts, "How?"
Oh, you're really gonna give it to him now.
"You know what? Listen," You're starting, standing up straight, "You're ridiculously stubborn. And you're ridiculously altruistic. You should care more about your own well-being. What's gonna happen when you go too far? When you've sacrificed yourself and destroyed your mind and your body so much you've essentially worked yourself to death? If you spend all your time trying to protect others, you don't leave any room to protect yourself."
With every word, Aki's expression softens, softens. He bites down on his own tongue and stays quiet.
"If you don't care about my opinion, it's fine," You continue, arms crossing over your chest, "You don't know me. You don't have to listen to anything I have to say. After tonight, you can leave and go do whatever you'd like with your life, and I won't be able to stop you. But I think you deserve better, and whether you agree or not, that's not gonna change. You shouldn't be treated so poorly, whether it's by yourself or by other people, or by this whole fucked up system. God-"
Your shoulders slump. The sigh you breathe is deep and weary.
"You deserve love, you know that?"
Love.
Aki's eyes are wide, his mouth parts but he can't say anything. Truthfully, he doesn't know what to make of that. All he knows is how your words get his stomach all fluttery, the way they make his chest twisted with an aching, unfamiliar heartsickness.
"I'm-" He stutters, voice shaky, "I… I appreciate you saying all of that. Really, I do. But-" He brings his fist up, clearing his throat. "But you don't need to- Where are you going?"
By the time he's looked up and noticed, you've already walked away. You kneel down, digging through the bar's mini fridge. Glasses clink together as you sift through its contents. Eventually, you find what you're looking for: a cold bottle of water, and you walk back over, holding it out to him.
"Here," You give the water bottle a shake, "Your voice is hoarse. You must be thirsty, right?"
"Uh," Aki reaches out to take the bottle from you. "I guess so."
Now that you've mentioned it, his throat is pretty scratchy. He cracks the lid of the bottle open with a satisfying noise, and he tilts his head back to graciously glug some down. The crisp cold water nulls the fuzziness in his head, it brings relief to his throat, sore from when he was crying. Once he's done, he screws the cap back on and reaches over to set the bottle on the nightstand.
"Better?"
Aki nods, and he sounds much clearer when he answers, "Yes. Thanks."
"Let's talk about something else." You start, "Tell me how you're feeling. Are you sad? Mad at me?"
"No, of course not. I'm not mad. I'm not sad either. I'm just… normal."
Normal, right. His heart certainly doesn't feel normal: it's pounding a mile a minute, and it has been pretty much since the moment you started talking. Or maybe it started the second he stepped into this room with you. No. His heart's been skipping from the moment he met you.
His head is spinning in circles, spinning and spinning and making him dizzy, and he can't think straight to save his life. The ghost of your touch lingers on his skin: of your hands in his, of your palm on his cheek. You left tingles in your wake, you dictated the rhythm of his pulse without even realizing. And now that you've gone and said all of those sweet declarations — You've made it so every little thought circles right back around to you, with no means of escape.
Love, is that what this is? He's been thinking too much already, way too much for his own good, so Aki doesn't bother to give himself the time to consider it.
Maybe he's just drunk. He doesn't feel drunk. He's by no means a lightweight who'd go and get wasted after only a handful of drinks. But maybe the alcohol is what's making him act so weepy and starstruck and stupid. He'll place the blame on that to make himself feel better.
He shakes his head, and he says offhandedly, mostly to himself, "I think I've had too much to drink."
"Oh? I was going to offer to make you something else, but maybe that's not the best idea." You reply. "Are you okay? Do… Do you want to go back now?"
"No, not yet," Aki answers quickly, "I'm fine. My head, it just- it hurts, is all. But all the noise out there, it would make it hurt even worse."
Briefly, Aki remembers how you told him you were on your break. Your break's probably over by now. He should remind you. But he won't.
The noise, yes, but more so, he doesn't want you to leave him just yet. Not for a little while longer.
"Alright. We can just keep relaxing, then."
"Is that okay with you?" Aki asks, a bit hesitant.
"Yeah, but if we're gonna stay here-"
To his surprise, your palm comes to press onto the center of his chest, centimeters away from his pounding heart. You push slightly. "Scooch. Let me sit. My legs are tired."
Aki eyes you with confusion. But when your hand applies a bit more force, he follows along, obediently shifting back on the bed to try and make room for you.
Before he can move to the side to allow you to sit next to him though, you're suddenly gripping his shoulders, you're squeezing them tight and slinging your legs on either side of his. You're straddling him and climbing on top of him, you're settling your full weight on his legs and you're sitting in his lap — and just like that, Aki's completely breathless.
You're in his lap. He's stuttering between words and gasps out of nervousness, he's leaning backwards as much as he can but at the same time, he's trying to get comfortable, letting his thighs spread on instinct to give you enough room.
"Ah, what're you-" His cheeks burn with fiery warmth, his heart starts to pound faster, faster. He keeps his arms at his sides, his palms are getting sweaty, and he closes and opens his hands in unrest, in awkwardness, unsure where or whether he should touch you. He shouldn't, and you shouldn't be so close — Fuck, are you trying to kill him?
"You…" Aki gulps, he struggles to keep his gaze on yours when you're staring at him so unwaveringly, "I was going to move some more so you could sit, but you didn't give me a chance to, so I… You really don't have to-"
You're already smiling, you interrupt him with a small laugh and a playful squeeze of his shoulders.
"It's fine. Don't overthink it, Hayakawa. Just relax."
You hold still, allowing his heart to settle and for him to get used to your weight on top of him. You fit into his lap snugly, closely. Like you were meant to be there. Perfectly, almost; the slot of two puzzle pieces. So close he can hear your soft breathing echoing alongside the pitter-patter of his heartbeat in his ears. His thighs allow you just the right amount of space to sit comfortably. His work slacks are nice and smooth against your bare legs.
Don't overthink it. Is that what he's been doing this whole time, overthinking? With the way his head keeps spinning and spinning, it sure seems like he's been.
Maybe he shouldn't. He could try not to. He'd feel better if he let go, if he focused on nothing but you, if he just trusted you and simply forgot about everything else. All of his worries, all of his troubles. All the hurt he's clung onto so tight. He could, just for as long as you're here with him.
Aki exhales a long, deep breath, he lets his hands unfurl and places them flat onto the mattress. His heart rate slows. He wants to let go, he swears he does. The problem is convincing his mind to shut up is no easy task.
"Whatcha thinking about?"
Aki peers up at you as your sweet voice tugs him from his thoughts. "Nothing."
You breathe a half-sigh, half-giggle, and you wrap your arms around his neck, clasping your hands together and leaning your elbows on his shoulders. "You're always worrying about something, aren't you?"
Aki hesitates for a single moment — your face is so close — before he interjects, "Not all the time."
"Oh yeah? How do I get you to stop, then?"
"I… I don't know."
Sure, he doesn't know, but you might just have an idea. An idea to get him to forget about all those things that've been bothering him, an idea to help take some weight off of his shoulders, if only for tonight. An idea that gets your heart thumping, your nerves buzzing, and your whole body tingling with anticipation.
You know how you can get him to relax, and if he thinks love isn't something he needs, you know how you can show him.
You cock your head, "Listen, how about this. Don't let anything trouble you right now, okay?"
Aki pauses. "What do you mean?"
You lean in a bit more, just a little more, enough to let Aki smell a hint of your perfume; something akin to fresh blossoms and vanilla, completely intoxicating yet perfectly, utterly you.
Your voice is sweet enough to make his heart flip: "I want you to try and let go of everything that's been bothering you, all those bad thoughts that won't leave your mind. I said you deserve to relax and enjoy yourself, remember? And you can't give yourself space to relax if you're always stuck in your own head, don't you think?"
Aki swallows so hard his eardrums crackle, he's stunned. Part of him still can't believe this is happening, that you're here, tangible and right on top of him. Your eyes are locked onto his, gaze warm and earnest. His eyelids grow heavy once your delicate fingers come to hold his jaw.
Quiet and coy, you whisper, "You're here with me, it's just us, and nothing else. It can be just us for the rest of the night, if you want it to be. We can pretend devils don't exist, alright?"
Honestly, Aki doubts himself, he isn't sure how well he'll be able to follow through. But when you're the one who's asking him, when it's for you, he wants to give it a shot. If he keeps his focus on you, on this moment, perhaps forgetting will become simpler than he imagined.
"Alright." Aki replies, "I'll try. Thank you."
"That's all I'm asking for." Your smile is warm. "Just try."
He nods, and it's ridiculous, but after a few drawn-out seconds, he begins to think you're going to do something more.
Your hand on his cheek tilts his head up slightly, holding him perfectly still. Aki's expression softens. He sees your gaze flicker down to rest on his lips, he can hear the subtle echo of your breathing. You're so close, your face is mere inches away from his. The tension between you and him draws out the seconds one by one, millisecond by millisecond, breath by breath.
The funny part is he wouldn't mind it. He wouldn't try to stop you. You've really got him wrapped around your finger, and Aki knows it. He's sure he's past the point of ever hoping to learn how to say no to you. Thankfully, he doesn't think he minds much if he ends up letting you do whatever you want with him.
If you kissed him right now, he might even find himself pulling you closer.
But you don't; instead, your hands start to travel over his shoulders, your warm fingers slip under the collar of his shirt to toy with his bare skin in places he hasn't felt before. The anticipation could kill him, but your touches might spell his demise before then.
You lean in close, your breath warm when it fans over the shell of his ear. "Are you comfortable?"
His eyelashes flutter, and he merely answers, "Mhmm."
"I can move, if you want to. If this is too much."
"No," Aki blurts out, "Don't."
Your fingertips graze over his pulse point before you tug them out of his collar, returning your hand to rest delicately on his jaw. Aki meets your eyes, his breathing starting to quicken; you can hear each sharp, shaky breath he takes in. Your touch is barely there, but it commands all of his attention; effortlessly tender, you make his body shiver, his skin spark with electricity.
You examine the details of his face: deep blue eyes like the depths of the ocean, faint bags set in under them from the stress. His nose is pointed, his brows are straight and short and a bit furrowed up in nervousness. He's pretty when he blushes, his face becomes painted in shades of ruby and pink all the way to the tips of his ears. He's just as handsome as you thought he was from the moment you saw him, even more when he's flustered, even more when it's all because of you.
"You're-"
Before he can finish the rest of what he was about to say, Aki suddenly stops, he shakes his head. He mutters, "Sorry, nevermind."
"No, what is it?"
Gnawing a little on his bottom lip, he anxiously taps his fingers against the surface of the bed. "I don't know. I forgot."
"Come onnnnn," You tease, and you playfully pinch his cheek; Aki grumbles, but you just make his face glow even redder than before.
"You're a horrible liar. You know what it is, so just tell me."
"I was going to say-" Aki trails off. Loudly, he sighs. His tone of voice is nonchalant, like it's no big deal, but the way he shyly averts his eyes away from you says otherwise. "I think you're really beautiful."
His words catch you a bit off guard — pleasantly, though. They get you smiling, your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering. "Thank you. For the record, I think you're beautiful too."
"Am I?"
Aki's eyes go glossy. He asks you that question like he's wanting you to say more, like he's begging for you to keep fawning over him because he can't get enough of it, of the way it feels to be adored.
"Uh-huh. You're so pretty, Hayakawa. I think you're gorgeous-" You brush your fingers down his jaw, your palm presses firm to his chest. It rises, falls, his heart beats beneath his shirt to a rapid rhythm, thumping, thumping. "Inside and out."
You think he's pretty. Aki's so dizzy he can't even think, it's like he's floating, as if he's high. Water beads at his lashes, he blinks the tears away. He lets his gaze flicker from your face, to where you're settled on top of his lap, to something in the distance.
His mind is moving a mile a minute, but no matter what, all those thoughts keep leading back to the same thing. He can't stop thinking about what you had said to him earlier.
Love has never been in the cards for him. Maybe it was something he understood once, but ever since he can remember, it hasn't been something he's had. He's never been adored. Never been put first. His parents loved him, but they spent all their time fussing over his brother. And then, they were gone.
It isn't something he's daydreamed of, isn't something he's at all desired. In this life, love isn't even anywhere close to a possibility. His existence revolves around his pursuits as a devil hunter, and nothing else. He can't have room for anything else. There's no-one. There's always been no-one.
Until now.
You make his heart into something it isn't used to, your touches give him a feeling so simple yet unlike anything he's ever understood: the beat of wings manifested between his ribcage. He's never been one to want, but he wants you, he wants whatever else you're willing to give to him, be it love, or something more. He wants to see what it is you think he deserves, because then, he might be able to understand.
"You look so nervous, pretty boy."
Your tone is teasing, it's tugging and pleading for him to let you in. Your finger comes to rest under his chin, and you tilt it up towards you carefully — just slightly, but enough to call his attention back to you.
"I thought I told you to relax."
"Easier said than done." Aki replies quickly, a little breathless.
You don't get how damn near impossible it is to stay calm when you're so sickeningly sweet. When you're pressed up this close to him, right in his lap.
"Then let me help you."
You brush some hair from his eyes, tuck it neatly behind his ears. You reach for him again, and this time, you're gently grasping his chin between your thumb and forefinger, you're keeping his head tilted up and his gaze locked on you.
"You don't- there's no need for that, you don't have to." Aki mumbles, he's frozen, and his lips quiver when your thumb brushes over them. "You've done enough for me already."
"But I want to. It isn't because I have to, I want to do this for you, Aki. Please."
Your sudden use of his first name causes his eyes to widen and his thudding heart to skip a beat. He knew he'd like the way you said his name, when you said his last he couldn't help but imagine how your voice would strum the syllables of his first. But now that he's heard it, the way his name sounds when you're the one to say it is perfect.
"Really?"
A small part of him is still doubting this. His worry-filled brain can't help but think the only reason you're still here is because this is your job, and he's nothing more than a patron. Perhaps he's too trusting, but if you're sitting here and you're telling him this is what you want, then —
"Yes, of course. Of course Aki, fuck, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want this with you." The meaning of this is left ambiguous, but you're still talking, and neither of you have a chance to ponder the implication.
"You can trust me," You're continuing, "Let me take care of you. I can help you relax, for once. I'll give you something else to think about. Something better."
Aki pauses. His breath is warm on the pad of your thumb, his voice is a challenge at barely more than a whisper: "And how are you going to do that?"
You know how, and it's something you've wanted to do for way, way too long.
You keep a firm grip on his chin, holding him still. Aki's Adam's apple bobs in his throat when he swallows thickly, his throat dry from the nervousness. His shoulders stiffen, his breath hitches and shakes as you start to slowly lean in, your head tilting, your hand working behind him to gently hold the back of his neck with each centimeter of distance you close.
When your lips brush over his — close enough to feel yours are plush, and his are chapped, but not quite enough to connect — Aki is letting his eyes shut. His breath is hot, it's quick. He focuses on the fluttery beat of his heart in his ears to keep the anticipation from eating him alive. Pounding fast, hard, and then slower, slower.
And once your lips press fully onto his own, he feels it start to soar.
His chest fills with an enveloping, tingling warmth, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burn red hot. After so long of feeling nothing he finally knows what it's like to feel everything — His breath nearly stops as you kiss him softly; tender enough to cause the entire room to whirl around him, hard enough to make the whole rest of the world fade away, as though it doesn't even exist.
There's just you, and just him, at the center of it all.
Still, it's a hesitant, chaste sort of kiss, Aki melts into your touch and allows you to do as you please, and you let the kiss last for only a second or two. You pull back slowly, reluctant to drag your lips away from his, you let his breath mix with yours for longer than you should. Finally, you draw all the way backward, and Aki's eyes flutter open to see you're already staring at him.
You kissed him. You kissed him, and the only thing running through Aki's mind is how much his heart — in the expanse of his chest, warm and all-encompassing, flooding his body with this prickly sense of longing — All he can think of is how badly he needs you to kiss him again.
"Aki-" You swallow, you say his name with an air of caution; perhaps you can't believe what you've just done, either. But you won't stop. Your face is still close to his, and your voice is kept quiet, "How was that? Another?"
Aki nearly stutters. "Yes." His low voice mimics the volume of yours, "Please."
You haven't forgotten the promise you made to yourself, when you swore you'd give him everything he wants from you. And when he asks you so nicely for more, you aren't about to forget.
A telling smile tugs at the corners of your cheeks. Of course.
You lean in once more, eyes closing, head tilting. His shoulders go slack the instant you've kissed him. Your lips connect with his a little easier than before, it's more familiar this time, but your kiss is a bit deeper, a bit harder.
The way he kisses you back is hesitant. Desperate but nervous all at once, like he doesn't want you to stop, like he's needed this. His lips quiver and his jaw locks up, his movements are unsure and clumsy; your lips don't quite meet with his when he leans in to kiss you again, his nose awkwardly bumps against yours. Aki kisses like he's never kissed anyone before — but honestly, with the way he's closed himself off, that might be true.
You kiss his lips again, again, you've been meaning to pull yourself away ages ago, you tell yourself just one more, but Aki leans in for another, and you can't resist. Each one is slow and tender, you only stop when you need an opportunity to breathe — and even then, you barely pull away from him, your lips still brush over his as you gasp for air and your warm breath melds with his own until the space between you is hot and humid. Aki's arms are shaking, he keeps his eyes screwed shut tight.
You reach up, and you carefully brush strands of hair away from his face to tuck behind his ears. You press a long, deep kiss to his mouth, you run your fingers up through his soft hair 'til it's ruffled and messy and his whole scalp is pleasantly tingling. His body relaxes, he's compliant, and he's starting to get the hang of this; he breathes a trembling sigh, his hands tightly clenching the sheets of the bed. He groans quietly, voice muffled by your lips on his.
God, he feels amazing. Nothing matters to him anymore besides your soft lips against his own. Each kiss melts him more than the last, all the way until he's putty in your hands, leaning into your touch as you hold his jaw and draw him in for more. Your other hand slips over his back, it runs along the length of his spine and coaxes him impossibly closer.
The pitter-pattery lilt in his heart refuses to quit. He kisses you eagerly, he utters soft, hushed gasps. Your body rocks into his in a desperate attempt to get closer, and Aki sighs in a mix of surprise and contentment, but he's letting it happen. In fact, he's encouraging you, he's following along to each of your movements, leaning into you once you start to press forwards.
Your lips are perfect, he's addicted — It's like he was made to kiss you. Made to meet you and destined to have you kiss all of his bitterness away, just like this.
He wouldn't mind if this singular moment lasted the rest of his life.
He's disappointed but doesn't protest when you abruptly decide to pull away, far back enough to meet his hazy eyes, and for long enough to allow him to catch most of his breath. His cheeks are burning red, his lips are puffy, pink and kiss-swollen. You're sure you aren't fairing much better; an unmistakable heat blemishes your face, it swells from under your skin and travels all the way down your shoulders and your chest.
You breathe in deep, and you try to calm your racing heart before you speak.
"You're doing good. Are you alright?"
"Yeah."
"I'm going to kiss you again," You're already leaning in but that's fine, he wasn't planning on stopping you in the first place, "Relax more this time, okay? Don't tense up. Just trust me."
Aki nods his head nervously, unsure but willing, and you place your hand on his cheek before tilting your head and diving in again; this time, your kiss is much deeper, it catches him off guard, and he instinctively tenses despite what you told him. You run your fingers through his hair until he's slack, you guide his lips to part when yours do — And when your tongue slips into his mouth, he starts to feel like he's high.
You taste exhilarating, sweet and sugar-ridden and like everything he's ever wanted. His arms continue to tremble, every limb freezes up and a budding ache blooms wild in his core. He's weightless, taken under frothy ocean waves, he tries his hardest to kiss you back but it's so much, his heart hammers in his chest: the bang and reverberation of steady gunfire.
You suck on his tongue gently, teasingly, and he tastes like honeyed liquor and his rich cigarettes — The same kind of cigarettes you always used to smoke. The sensation is dizzyingly familiar, so delicious it gives you a rush to the head, it makes the whole world tilt on its axis.
And it's there, with your lips pressed deft to his, that you realize perhaps you needed this just as much as he did. This softness, this closeness, this genuine adoration. You can't remember the last time you kissed someone like this, when the collision of lips and tongues came so easily, so safely, so naturally.
Aki makes everything easy, he's easy to kiss, easy to trust. Easy to love. Easy to want so, so much more from.
Your kisses get heavy and hot, messes of spit between twofold staggered gasps for breath. You're tired of him keeping his hands at his sides, you want him to touch you — So, as Aki mutters another pretty whimper into your mouth, tilting his head opposite to yours so he can kiss you even deeper, you're reaching down and grabbing his wrists.
You tug them to your waist, you coax his hands to hold you and squeeze tightly. He's trembling a little; his touch is more hesitant than forceful, but he follows your direction and grips you firm. He rubs circles into your skin with his thumbs, his palms radiate warmth. Your kisses lead you to press closer, your teeth bite gently on his bottom lip and he drags you in by your waist, enough to make your hips to rock rhythmically against his lap. Aki gasps, you pull away from him and he's panting hard.
His eyelids flutter open and he immediately meets your gaze, his pupils blown out wide and dark. In a weak voice, Aki starts, "I-I'm sorry, I'm not-"
But you shut him up with a quick kiss to his lips, he's stuttering again as you plant another to the corner of his mouth, then to his warm cheek, to the edge of his jaw. He lets out a heavy sigh as you place the softest kiss over the shell of his ear, his skin tingly when your hot breath tickles it.
"I'm not…" Aki gulps, still trying to talk despite his struggle. It grows more difficult when you're biting at his earlobe, his metal earring sturdy under your teeth, your lips delicate on his ear, "... I'm not good at this."
You huff a low laugh so close he can feel the echo. His whole body shivers, then promptly relaxes.
"It's okay," You coo, voice muffled, barely there. You're beginning to trail sloppy kisses down his neck, and he whimpers; each word is sending vibrations over where he's most sensitive, "You're doing soooooo good. You're a great kisser, Aki."
The thick, dreamy fog in his brain almost causes your words not to register. But when they do click, Aki's blushing a little harder, his mind is a blur, he's so caught up he fails to notice your hands reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
"I… I am?"
You mutter teasing mhmm's into his nape, you work the soft flesh of his neck between your teeth and suck hard. Your lips feel out the telling thrum of his pulse, kissing until it starts to pound faster. Your mouth is warm, tongue wet; you taste the prickle of salt on his skin like you could never hope to get enough.
Nipping at the side of his neck, you fumble to undo each button on his dress shirt, popping them free through messy kisses and bites. It's difficult to undo them blind, and so you struggle for a while, focus split between sucking a deep-set bruise into his skin and hastily getting him undressed.
And Aki knows what you're doing — He should probably stop you, push you away, anything, but he doesn't have it in himself to. This is indecent, he's letting you strip him. You've worked all of the buttons on his shirt down, and you press your warm palms to his bare chest, you drag them down and caress the mismatched ridges of scars. You feel out the subtle shapes of muscle, glide your hands over his smooth stomach and press your thumbs to where his hip bones start to jut out and define the rest of his figure.
If he was thinking clearer, or if he hadn't already agreed to take your advice, he might have put a stop to this by now. Instead, all he can do is utter faint gasps and moans, he grips your waist tighter and he tilts his head back to give you better access. Your kisses and licks and bites right on his most tender spot feel like the sweetest thing he's ever had the privilege to experience, like heaven.
He doesn't need to look to know for certain he's going to have a huge mark on his neck, right where everyone can see. He can try to cover it up with his collar, maybe. Skip work and say he's feeling sick to avoid the shame he'd get from all the stares. He'll figure it out later. It's truly unlike him, but in this present moment, he can't bring himself to care.
As you finally break away from him, planting one last kiss, you admire the mark you've left on his skin: tender and bruised in shades of purple and red, planted on the side of his neck, right above his shirt collar. You trail your hand up to the center of his chest, you measure each pound of his heart; it thrums to an eager, rapid rhythm under your palm.
Aki's gaze flickers over your face, expectant. You lean in some, your voice quiet: "Your heart is beating so fast."
Against his complexion, the mark you've given him stands out like a sore thumb, surely easy enough for anyone to notice even with his hair down. Warm red and purple and blue blossom freely on the side of his neck. He's so pretty, the bruise is so pretty you can't help but dream of giving him more. Enough to cover the whole expanse of his pretty fair skin, enough to last, enough to make him never forget you. And as you reach up and brush your thumb over the blemish, delighting in the way Aki shivers under your touch, his eyelids heavy, breath loud and eager, you can't help but wonder what people will think, what they'll end up saying to him.
If his colleagues at work will pester him about it, if the people on the train will stare when he stands next to them for too long. You wonder even more if when they ask, he would end up telling them the truth.
"Are you nervous?"
He gulps, he forces himself to meet your eyes and hold his gaze there.
"A little," Aki confesses breathlessly. His neck feels bare without your lips pressed to it. "Sorry."
"Should I move?"
"No, you-" His nervousness is evident even without his answer, he takes a deep breath in and attempts to grasp at the composure he'd been clinging to earlier. He swallows and forces his shaky voice to continue.
"We shouldn't be doing this," He says, his face is flushed crimson, his lips are puffy, he doesn't sound very convincing. "You know that, right?"
"Oh, yeah?" You snicker in response, "Why?"
Aki keeps nervously stammering on: "This is- I mean, it's- I know we won't get in trouble, but if you keep going, if we're not able to stop, then you'll… it'll- we'll end up-"
He abruptly freezes, trailing off before he can say anything more. Before he can answer the what ifs you've had spinning around in your brain since all of this began.
Right. You didn't expect him to be the one to say it, nor did you think he was even considering something like that, but he's right.
If this goes on, you'll end up doing something you shouldn't. You'll find yourselves in a tangled mess on the bed, you won't be able to go back once you've taken things too far, you'll strip him of the rest of his clothes and feel his large hands press deft to your bare skin, and once you've reached that point —
"I know." You purposefully interrupt your own train of thought, "And I don't want to stop."
Gaze steady on yours, you wonder how he hasn't managed to look away. "Really? You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"Even if… even if we-"
"I'm positive." You interrupt. "Why? Did you want us to stop?"
Aki's chest rises up, and then down. "I didn't say that."
"What do you want, then?" Your fingers travel up from his neck to ghost over his jaw, his bangs form a mess around his face and you carefully push them aside while Aki takes a nice, deep breath. "Doesn't matter if you shouldn't. Tell me what you want."
What does he want? He already knows, and he's such a hypocrite, such a total idiot. Truth is, he hasn't cared about what you should or shouldn't be doing for a long time now.
There's one last chance to put a stop to this, and you've left the choice up to him.
"I want you to kiss me."
You smile. Falling further and further has been your fate from the very start. And now, he's sealed himself the same outcome as your own.
"Where?"
You lean down until your lips are brushing over his neck like butterfly wings, until he's letting his eyes flutter shut and allowing your sweet voice to consume what's left of him: "Do you want me to kiss you right here?"
"Yeah," Aki answers, his breath is hard and sharp when it's pushed from his lungs, "Yes, please."
So you do just that; you press a set of delicate kisses to his neck, he gasps, you place your hand under his chin to tilt his head up. You plant a messy kiss right under his jaw, then one onto his Adam's apple — Aki swallows, it bobs up and down in his throat, your lips are liquid fire — and finally, you press one over the pretty mark you've already left.
You peer up at him through your eyelashes, you gauge his reaction, and he gestures down to his neck with his eyes, where your lips sit inches away; he's still breathless, still nervous, but he sounds sure of himself when he asks, "Give me another one?"
"Another one of these?" You tap your finger against his neck, over his purpling bruise, skin tender to the touch.
Aki nods. "Please."
You're obliging before he can say another word. You dip your head down, you kiss onto another soft spot on his nape. Aki screws his eyes shut tight, and then, you work the flesh between your teeth, same as you did before. You suck gently, you hum into his skin when his hands grip your waist for reprieve. You kiss the newly formed bruise, watch it take: a mess of red and purple seeping deeper in. The warmth of your breath briefly disappears as you move your head over to the other side.
Aki tilts along with you. Delicate fingers push his hair out of the way, plush lips pepper his neck with kisses, he sighs in pleasure, reaching a hand up at the same time. He shakily presses his palm to the back of your head, and you work to give him another. Your tongue wet on his skin, you suck more harshly, hard enough to make him whine. You only pull away once you're sure this newest mark will set.
Drawing back, you lock eyes with him. You grab his chin, drag his head up, his gaze goes soft, heavy and obedient. He looks perfect, gorgeous when he's like this, pupils blown out, the fair skin on his pretty neck covered in your bruises and your love bites.
They're signs you were there. Pretty little mementos for him to admire in the mirror the next morning until they jog the memory of what you've done, of your plush lips and warm mouth on his neck. He'll tingle at the thought, he'll press his fingertips to each one and will himself to go back to the night you left them.
"Tsk," You scoff playfully, grinning, "You won't be able to go back to work like this."
The bridge of Aki's nose crinkles when his eyebrows start to furrow, "I can."
"People are gonna stare at you."
"I don't care." He snaps the words a bit too sharply than he realizes, but it's out of desperation, out of impatience, "Just kiss me again."
Finally. You're taken aback, but only briefly, in a good sort of way. This is what you wanted. At last, he's honest, he's desperate and he's no longer afraid to get what he wants — or really, what he's wanted all along. Finally, he's acting a little more selfishly.
Without giving him a chance to regret it, you lean again, giving him just what he needs from you.
Your lips connect with his, Aki grips your waist and in turn, you fist his shirt collar, tugging him in as close as you can get him. This kiss is messier than the others. It's needier, it's you melting into him when one of his hands slides up to hold the small of your back, his touch gentle, like he could never hurt you. He wouldn't, you know he wouldn't. And it's Aki dragging you in, tugging you closer on his lap, his head cloudy and fuzzy and only focused on the ever-so perfect press of your tongue to his own.
With each and every kiss, you're taking all the breath from his lungs — You adjust, your hips rock into him just as they did the first time he pulled you closer, and he nearly gasps, his whole body flares with tingling warmth. He wants you even closer, but your tongue in his mouth, his puffy lips messy and wet with your saliva is too much to handle. Aki kisses you back as best he can manage, he licks into your mouth nice and slow while your fingers tangle in his hair: tugging, pulling, gripping.
Amidst your kisses, somehow, you manage to find a window to murmur, "Do you like kissing me?"
You don't get to say anything more, though, because Aki is quick to close that shred of distance between you; he kisses you deeply again, he holds the back of your neck, and into your mouth, he mumbles a muffled, sweet-sounding mhmm.
Truthfully, he does, he loves this. His heart thumps, his eyelids are too heavy to open, drool drips messily from the corner of his mouth.
He's forgotten almost everything, everything but you; you're the perfect vice, just as addicting as his cigarettes, but you're so much sweeter — He can't stop. When you're kissing him like this, pressed up close to him and making everything dizzy and light and feel so good, how is he supposed to stop you? He can't, and more than anything, he wants to drown in more of your touch, in your lips, in all you have to give him.
Your fingers tug gently on his hair, you moan softly, your body presses into him once more, your hips grind down on his. But this time, it's different. It's much more deliberate.
You're testing the waters, getting restless. And he freezes up from the tension; when you pull away from his mouth, his eyes are glazed over, his pupils are blown out wide. You're both breathing hard and heavy, you mutter something and with the way his head is spinning and his ears are ringing, he can't tell if it's a sigh of pleasure or a whine of his name.
Then, your hips roll down on him again, hard, right into his lap, and Aki's eyelashes are fluttering, he's hissing and biting down on his bottom lip, his hands clenching at your sides. His pulse is thrumming, it's insistent and warm on his neck and between his legs, only getting warmer the closer you press.
Your heart is starting to race. Your nerves hum with a new kind of need, an exciting sort of need. You know what you're doing. You'd be a fool not to know. Aki runs his palm along your spine, trailing up, his touch gentle, and your whole body grows impossibly hot. Your head is still reeling from his kisses, you'll blame your impulsiveness on that.
Your lips long to be on his again — and you almost kiss him, you're about to kiss him even harder until he can't even breathe, but you stop as Aki's eyes scan your face, as he opens his mouth and tries to say something but can't. When you get impatient, gripping his shoulders and rolling down on him again, all he can do is gasp.
"Aki…" You murmur his name, leaning in close to his ear. And it's clearer this time, even sweeter than all the times he's heard it before.
"F-Fuck, stop for a second."
He sighs out the words, he squeezes your waist tightly as a signal to hold still, and you freeze in your tracks.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Aki answers quickly, voice shaky. He looks at you through half-closed eyelids, his face is flushed crimson and his collar's askew. His unbuttoned shirt is starting to carelessly fall from his shoulders, slipping down to expose his collarbones and most of his chest. As if on queue, he reaches for it, tugging the sleeves back in place, attempting to clumsily do up the buttons one-handed. He swallows the dryness in his throat and tries to make himself look presentable. Like it even matters.
"Fine, just-" Aki lets go once you help him, tossing his head back. You reach forward, you finish the rest of the buttons for him before adjusting the folds of his shirt collar until they're straight. "Just needed to catch my breath."
"I'll get off of you, if that's what you want." Your thumbs rub along the smooth fabric of his collar. "If it's too much."
"No," He's still a bit breathless, but now, he sounds much more resolute. Little by little, he regains his bearings. He tilts his head all the way backward and looks up towards the pale ceiling to avoid meeting your gaze. He spreads his legs and gets more comfortable, sighs at the extra friction from you adjusting on his lap. He takes a couple more deep breaths and waits for his pounding head and heart to return to normal.
He looks towards you again. Behind his eyes, he sparks with something dark. Something serious and something foreign — It's a look you've never seen from him before. A look filled with something desperate and incomprehensible, washed over with lust and love and whatever lies in between.
"Don't." Aki heaves a deep, steady sigh. "I don't want you to."
His breathing is slow, it's controlled, it contrasts with his heavy gaze and flushed out face. You let your arms wrap around his shoulders and he tries his hardest to stay calm.
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," Aki stares into your eyes and imagines them swallowing him whole. "I promise, I'm sure."
The truth is, he's still nervous, he's fucking terrified, but if there's one thing he's grown tired of, it's hesitating when his heart knows he doesn't want to. From now on, he can't, he won't. No more hesitation.
"You can do anything you want, I trust you. I swear."
You smirk. "Anything?"
You're leaning in, you grasp his lobe and fiddle with the pointy back of his earring. You tilt your head and breathe warm wisps of air onto the shell of his ear, so close he's shuddering, his eyes screwing shut in anticipation. Aki's heart pounds, pounds, pounds.
And with a trembling sigh, he confirms it: "Anything."
"So this is alright, isn't it?"
You rock into him again, and he gasps, he takes in a long, unsteady breath. Aki shivers, he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down. Your question doesn't get answered at first, but his hold on your waist is a subtle form of encouragement, he drags you forwards in tune with the deep roll of your hips until you're pressing into him even harder and even closer than before. Right up against his lap, your arms around him and your chest on his.
"Yes," Aki finally manages; he can hardly speak, he's losing his fucking mind and you've barely even begun. Your palms glide down, fingers nudging past his sleeves, gently caressing his hands and the veins on his wrists. Your hands fold over his knuckles, you squeeze and guide him to hold you tighter. You nip at his nape and he's screwed, he's so fucking screwed. "Keep going, don't stop…"
His hands shake, arms tremble, you press your lips to his neck and leave wet, messy kisses onto every sensitive spot you managed to discover before. Everything's happening at once, Aki clumsily tugs you closer, still. His fingers flex like he's not sure whether he should keep holding on. In the end, when your lips kiss his cheek and you cradle his face in both palms, he opts to tear his hands away from you and place them flat at his sides to give himself more leverage.
His head twirls in dizzying circles. His body betrays whatever wishes for composure he was still clinging onto. It takes you another deep grind into his lap to register what's happening; beneath you, he's getting hot, getting stiff.
You can feel him, firm and thick in his slacks, warm when you roll down on him again; you've hardly done anything, and he's this hard already, from just some kissing and a little bit of friction. You've ignored it up 'til now, but truthfully, you've noticed for a lot longer than you were letting on. Aki's been hard ever since you first kissed him.
You don't blame him, really. He can't help himself, it's cute that he can't help himself. You pull him close and kiss his lips, he can't help if he gets hard just from a kiss, your body presses closer and shoves up against his — your sex against his stiffening cock — and Aki can't help when he sighs into your mouth. You pull back and keep kissing his neck, he groans, his throat vibrates under your lips with the noise and his Adam's apple bobs from the weight of it.
He's doomed. When it comes to you, he can't help himself, and that's the problem. You're rocking into him and even though he should say the opposite, all he can manage to mutter is, Keep going, keep going. Don't stop.
You place a delicate kiss onto his ear, you coo something sweet into it that his tangled mind can barely make out — You sound so pretty, so perfect when you beg — and it's all over.
This isn't like him, he isn't the kind of man who'd do something like this. He should have more self-control. He thought he did. And yet here he is, bucking his hips up into your own as you grind down on him, whining so loud it's embarrassing, his pretty noises turning into even softer grunts as your fingers knot in his hair. You grip close to his scalp, his messy bangs tickle his lashes.
He shouldn't be so needy. Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say he didn't know he had it in him to be so needy. He wants you so badly he's gone lightheaded, he can't fathom anything but this; nothing else but the way your body clicks into place with his, close, close, right up against him. Enough to tease, enough to make him want you harder, faster, not enough to satiate his appetite.
Though he doesn't dare to take anything further than the pace you've set. You grip his waist with one hand to keep both of you steady, right between the end of his ribs and the beginning of his hips. Lips parted, gaze misty, Aki lets you take whatever you want, like it's all that matters.
And you will, because as much as you want to deny it, you certainly aren't faring much better; there's an ache set deep in your core, you're so desperate for him, to feel him. To have him closer, anywhere, anything, just more. Body to body, yours to his — Aki makes you want him without even trying, more than you think you've wanted anything else before.
The room is quiet, way too quiet. You want to say something to break this silence, you know he won't, but the way you're feeling consumes every thought before it can form. The shifting of the mattress, the rustle of clothing, and Aki's gasps, his fragile whines are the only thing to fill your ears. You rock into him deep enough and slow enough and close enough to make him sob, and he bites down on his bottom lip, shutting his eyes tight, trying to stifle his noise.
He doubts anyone would walk down the hallway and come close enough to this room to hear him or you. But the thought alone, the suspense of someone hearing how humiliating he sounds, of getting caught: it's enough to get him to shut himself up.
"Aki," Finally, you muster something, gasping the words between another firm grind into his groin, "Talk to me."
Despite his best efforts, he's struggling, and you've noticed. He finds it hard to stop himself from whining each time you grip him tight and grind down, even when he's trying to keep his mouth shut, even once he's covered it with his own palm, thinking that would make a difference.
"Aaaaaaaki."
"Shut up…"
Every slight spur presses his lap further into you, making his eyelids flutter and his breath hitch. Don't, you can't say his name that way, not like that, not so sweet.
Leaning in, you kiss his cheek, so soft his head goes hazy, you free your hand from his waist to push his bangs out of the way and kiss his forehead. You grip his wrist and gently, you drag it away from his mouth, he responds with an instant sharp intake of breath. You're straightening his hand and lining up his fingertips with yours, and he does you a favor before you make him wait any longer, intertwining his fingers with yours, gripping tight. He missed this.
"C'mon, don't be mean," You whisper in his ear, you nibble on his lobe, speak through the rolls of your hips into him, "I wanna hear your voice. Please?"
"Sorry," Aki snaps in response, you grip his hand nice and tight, use your free one to hold his face and brush your thumb over his lips. They're quivering, his pupils are wide. He tries. His words have zero bite (they never did to begin with, not from the start) and begin to sound more like pleas, less like demands.
"I-I can't, I can't take it, you can't stop." Aki stammers. You nearly take your hand away from his to grip his shoulder, but Aki holds it tight, squeezing, fingers shaking, "Don't, please, ah- shit…"
You can't fault him for trying, for listening, but his voice is fragile, it comes out in broken words and half-started sentences. You rock hard into him once more, you kiss his ear and start up a steady rhythm with your hips. His mouth falls open when he whines, his thighs wobble, his cock is aching from where it strains his slacks. Aching to be touched, and when it's pulsing between his legs so much it practically has a heartbeat of its own, he can't fucking think straight.
He certainly isn't thinking when your thumb presses to his lips, caressing them before somehow slipping past. Any aspect of reason doesn't exist when you're shoving your thumb into his mouth, onto his tongue — and to your surprise, Aki lets his tongue swirl around it, he takes in sharp breaths to the tune you've set by grinding against him. He chokes on a quiet, sweet, dirty sort of gag as you shove the digit in further.
It's filthy, he's filthy. His eyelids grow heavy, his lips close, and he sucks on your thumb gently, obediently. You grip his chin, you press it in even more, tears prick at his lashes and Aki's body lurches. His hips buck up into you along with the movement and he's gasping, nearly coughing when you abruptly pull your thumb out. You let it linger on his lips, smearing wet streaks of saliva all over them.
He's panting now, hot and quickened breaths; he lifts his pelvis and fucks himself back into you on instinct, without even thinking, sighing and closing his eyes as he does. You adjust, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your movements reach a fever pitch and with a dull thud and squeak from the mattress, you end up pushing him over.
Pushing him all the way until he flops onto the bed, on his back, with you right on top of him, pinning him into place. Body pressed to his own, face inches away from his. Aki huffs in surprise, but you capture his lips with yours before he can do anything more.
He swears you taste even sweeter this time. Honey and sugar, rich and enveloping but sparked with something ever-so exciting. Both of your hands cup his cheeks, and his arms fall upturned above him, he tilts his head opposite yours and kisses you tenderly, slowly — juxtaposed with how urgently he knows he needs you. His thighs shift and squirm as he parts them, trying to get comfortable and give you a better angle. Better access to the incessant throb between his legs.
Your plush lips on his, your tongue exploring his mouth, your kisses and your cunt rubbing right up against his cock — and it's still not enough. Not enough friction or warmth or touch, too many layers of fabric, too much space between your body and his own. He can't, Aki's starting to sweat. So needy and disgustingly desperate, he wants to slap himself until he gets a grip, wants to have you shake his shoulders until he's come to his senses.
He's hard and only getting harder, you grind deeper, and he really can't control himself, can't get a grip when he's already slick with arousal in his briefs and struggling to not finish right then and there.
If he isn't careful, he'll cum just like this. That'd be pathetic. Such a loser, hooking up with you in the back of a strip club and cumming in his pants before you've even really done anything.
He wishes that thought bothered him more than it did. He doesn't feel ashamed. He wishes it didn't make his stomach bloom with warmth and his head go all fuzzy as he imagines how you'd react, how you'd tease him in that sickeningly sweet voice of yours for getting so worked up and promise to make him feel even better. Awe, Aki, you're so cute. You want me to take care of you?
God, he's worse than all the other devil hunters who come here, all his coworkers and even his sorry excuse for a mentor. What the hell has gotten into him?
He has no idea, because the second you've pulled away from his lips, you give him no time to compose himself before you're breathlessly asking, "Does it feel good?"
"H-hah-" Aki gasps, he's slurring; you're a pretty sight above him, and he struggles to speak at first, he's bright red all the way to the tips of his ears, "Yeah, s'good- Don't stop, please don't stop, you can't, you can't..."
Of course it feels good, of fucking course it does. He's so worked up, and for the life of him he can't think of the last time he's been this way. Maybe never. Surely he's never felt this good all by himself before.
Hell, he's been so numb, so busy and so isolated, he's finding he can't even remember the last time he's gotten hard in the first place. He's so stiff, aching so much it practically hurts, he hasn't felt this way in so long — Yeah, never.
You must have noticed. You think he's easy, probably. He wouldn't really have a problem with that. But you're playing dumb, you've got to know how good he's feeling because you're the one who's doing this to him, and it isn't by accident.
You're grinding up and down on where his cock sits heavy in his slacks and you can definitely feel him, definitely know he's —
"So hard." Your voice rings out close to his ear as you grind down on him once again, to the same sort of rhythm, and the fabric of his pants rubs right into the needy, wet tip of his cock, "It must feel amazing."
Aki can't hold back a stuttery moan in pleasure. His hair is fanned out over the sheets in a mess, his thighs shake and squirm and his hands clench, fingernails dug into his palms as he rolls up into you, meeting your movements as best he can. Your weight pins him down, it's difficult to manage, but he needs to, has to. So hard, and it's all because of you; "Sorry, 'm sorry-"
His flustered apologies get a clear smile out of you. You drag your hands up his arms, feel the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt's sleeves, you reach his palms and you press your thumbs to them, massaging.
"Aki, touch me."
He barely hears, your words are a fuzzy ringing in his eardrums that only register when you're tugging his hands up and placing them both around your waist. Aki cracks his fluttery eyes open. You press a hand to his chest for stability, you use the other to guide his own palm back, back. Shaking fingers travel over the curve of your ass, and Aki thinks he's going to choke on his heart in his throat.
He doesn't protest, doesn't move, doesn't try to fight it. You're cupping his face and stroking his cheeks with your thumbs and he keeps his hands right where you left them: one weakly holding your waist, the other trembling, trying to find stillness, resting right below your waist and barely on your behind, shy fingertips ghosting over the back of your thigh.
You're grinding against him feverishly now — Each time your core meets his, Aki pants harder, he's getting warmer and stiffer and more uncomfortable by the minute. Your rhythm is deep, your body is so terribly hot, the heat transfers from you to him and it makes his head all floaty and heavy. Sweat beads at his neck, beneath his collar and onto his chest.
Barely able to speak, he gasps shakily, he tries to steady his breathing but it isn't any use. He abruptly stutters, "It's… it's- oh, shit…"
"What's wrong?"
Aki wants to reply to you, he does, and he's trying to. But he just keeps gasping and stammering, stumbling over his own words with no idea where to start. You trail your fingers from his cheek to his forehead, you push some messy strands of hair away from his face until you can see it better. Pretty blue eyes, pink skin, the softest expression.
You're attempting to coax him to meet your gaze but he won't comply, he shuts his eyes tight, tosses his head back with a downright filthy groan as your clothed cunt rubs right along the fat length of his cock.
God, he can't take this, he's throbbing so hard and it won't stop, his work slacks are impossibly tight and confined around his dick but one less layer of fabric and he'd be a goner. Any more of this, and he's going to fall apart.
You lean in, tone sweeter than sugar, impossible to resist: "Tell me, sweet boy."
"A-Ah," Aki gasps harder and harder, pants heavier, his thrusts up into you get more feverish, sloppy rolls of his hips as his hand tightens on your waist. The friction feels so perfect, so fucking good, he's getting closer.
He can't breathe, his head is a mess, his stomach's in knots. "I'm… I can't, it's throbbing so bad, I'm gonna-" A sharp, loud gasp, you grind down on him just right, he's right on the edge, and then, "Please, please, I- stop stop stop stop-"
You listen to his words as soon as you hear them. Immediately freezing in your tracks, Aki is finally given a break. His chest heaves with force, he tears his hands away from you to toss his arms over his red face. Everything comes to a standstill. Very slowly, slowly but surely, your breathing begins to calm alongside his own.
He sounded close. He sounded amazing. You feel a little bad for him, almost. He clearly isn't used to this. You got him so damn riled up, only to leave him hanging when he needed you the most. A small part of you starts to regret stopping, starts to wonder what he'd sound like if you didn't.
What face he'd make, how he'd look at you with those pretty blue eyes, pupils dark and his face rosy red. How he'd whimper and sob as he makes a mess of his briefs, even louder and even more pathetic than he was before.
Maybe it's your own fault — it's definitely your own fault — but even as the seconds go by, turning into minutes as you watch the rhythm of his chest grow slower and slower, your mind and your heart won't seem to quit. You can't manage to calm down.
The remnants of his voice echo in your eardrums. So desperate, so unlike anything you've heard from him before. You'd begun to memorize the sound of his voice, the way his tone stays smooth and unwavering, each word spoken with intent, and in this short span of time, your expectations have all been completely shattered.
He seemed nervous, almost; and fuck, he is. Nervous because he's not used to this, yes. But really, he's losing his mind because he's never felt like that.
He's been pent up before, sure. When Aki had his place to himself, he remembers times where he needed to jerk himself off in the shower to let go of some steam. Or nights when he stayed up later than he should have palming himself through his briefs, too needy and lonely to sleep. But those times are few and far between.
He doesn't get like this. Ever since things started getting bad at work, he's hardly felt anything but numb. It's been months since he felt even a shred of what he's feeling now, so long he started to forget what it was like.
Any desires he's had have been nothing more than an afterthought or a stress reliever. He's never been so hard he could barely stand it, or so turned on he was seconds away from cumming in his pants like some kind of degenerate.
And as much as he hates how close he'd gotten, having to stop you when he was right on the edge has his head reeling. He can barely even think anymore. He really needs a cigarette. A cigarette and for someone to tell him to just get a damn grip already.
By now, you've managed to mostly regain your bearings. You keep still, ignoring any lingering ache you have for something more to ask, "You alright?"
Aki catches his breath for a few moments longer before he nods, answering, "Yeah, f-fuck, uh-huh."
His hips shift, he squirms beneath you slightly and it proves to be a mistake when he immediately huffs a frustrated puff of air. He's just shifting with unrest, not trying to get you off of him; the little bit of movement presses his lap back into you unintentionally, and with your head much more clear, you can distinctly feel the fat outline in his pants, the way he's warm and firm and sits heavy underneath.
Trying not to have every thought in your brain circle back to the image of his cock confined in his slacks proves to be almost impossible.
As for him, you've stopped moving — thank God — which gives some degree of relief. But you're still situated on top of him with no signs of moving, and the weight of your body in his lap is overwhelming as is. When you're pressed into him like this, even when you're still, there's no way he can will his mind, let alone his body to calm down, no matter how hard he tries to.
But he doesn't want you to move. Aki draws his arms away from his face and peers at you through droopy eyelids. Everything is so damn hot, the air is thick and stuffy and the room is sweltering. His bangs stick to his forehead from sweat, strands of stray hair cling to the corner of his mouth and he peels them away with his fingers. His chest is still heaving, his heart continues to beat like a festival drum and the sound rings loud in his own ears.
What he wants to do is reach out to you, to pull you into him and feel your body as close to his as possible, even closer than this, just as he's been longing for. But he won't. And he doesn't.
Even now, he isn't confident enough. He debates the idea in his own head for a second. He doesn't think he ever will be. He's got countless things he wants to say to you, but he waits for you to be the one to speak first.
You eye him up and down, he looks like such a mess. It's a huge contrast to how he looked when he first walked in, when you first laid eyes on him. Professional and well-kept, every aspect neat and orderly like it was planned to be that way. Tie done up sprucely, not a button on his jacket out of place. The space between his sleeve and the cuff of his undershirt is exactly two fingers wide, just as he prefers it.
He definitely didn't plan this, though. He would never plan for something like this, not in a million years. You're sure he wasn't counting on having his hair down and askew, a tangled mess where it's fanned out over the bright pink bedspread, nor did he think of his collar getting so uneven, or his shirt getting untucked from his pants, so wrinkled it'll take at least three trips to the ironing board to get rid of them all.
Somehow, he's lost all semblance of the way he was before, too. The way he was trying to be. His cool and collected attitude, his stern sort of facade. He's a completely different person, or perhaps, this is who he really was all along.
He's weaker than he aims to let on. You're the one who's drawn this out of him. You're the one who gets to see the disciplined, strict devil hunter reduced to nothing more than a gasping mess underneath you. The only one. This side to Aki Hayakawa is all yours.
He looks calmer now. Figuring you've given him enough of a breather, you start to slide from his thighs. Aki props himself up on one elbow and you don't think anything of it until he abruptly reaches out, grabbing your wrist before you can fully get off of him.
"Wait."
"I'm not going anywhere," You reassure, reading his mind, glancing up to meet his eyes, "Just give me a second to stand up."
Although he stares at you hesitantly for a couple of seconds, he ultimately decides to let go and leans backward, allowing you to get yourself standing up straight.
"I'm just taking off my dress real quick, okay? It's too hot in this thing."
You take a step away from him, and you reach for the zipper on the back of your dress. You're grasping it and dragging it down and Aki's eyes go wide but he figures it's far too late to tell you to stop.
"Right." He replies matter-of-factly — Right, that's fine, he's prepared for this — and nothing else he could hope to say would carry any weight, because even as he speaks, you're already starting to slip the straps from your shoulders.
He finds himself unable to take his eyes off of you as you slide the dress all the way down your legs until you're able to step out of it and kick it aside. In turn, you find it impossible not to notice how he stares, his face blushed out up to his ears, flighty gaze scanning you up and down, lips pursed in a manner that tells you he wants to say something but he doesn't have the guts, like he always does. You look up, and he turns away the second you catch him staring.
And yeah, you are heating up like crazy, so you'd certainly be more comfortable with your dress off, but his eyes on you are a reminder of the reason you're doing this. The real reason. You've stripped down in front of customers before, you've done it on every one of the stages more times than you can count, but Aki is different. This moment is different.
It's nowhere near the same, because Aki doesn't look at you the way those men did. He takes all of you in, each curve and tiny detail, like you're something to be loved, like you're precious. He stares at you like he'd sooner get on his knees and worship you than ever dare to leave you hurt.
He didn't touch you like anyone else ever has, either. No, his touches were soft, they were hesitant. They carried a level of carefulness and piety you're sure you haven't experienced, they're so wholeheartedly Aki that you think you'd recognize his hands and his touch even if you didn't know it was him. You'd feel his unsure fingers and the warmth of his shaky breaths and know you'd be safe no matter what happens.
Nothing you've experienced tonight has been anywhere near what you're used to. He's always been special. That's why you're still here, why you never want to leave him.
And it isn't wrong for you to want more, right? Your head tells you it is, but your heart tells you it isn't, and you've always had a hard time listening to the former. It isn't when it's Aki, when he's already become more important to you than anyone. It isn't when you've been so starved for this without even realizing, and when Aki is the only man you want to give it to you.
Besides, you've already come this far. Fuck, you knew what you were getting into, and maybe, deep down, you wanted something more with him from the very start, whether it was his time, his touch, his affection. His love.
So, what's the sense in stopping now?
When you've tossed your outfit aside, you're left in only your thigh-highs and a dainty set of matching lingerie. A glittery bra, and lacy underwear that clings to your hips with thin, black ribbons.
Aki was right. He thought maybe his muddled up brain was just imagining things when your dress was riding up earlier. Or perhaps he was trying to convince himself he imagined it so he could avoid feeling embarrassed over what he accidentally saw. But no, he didn't. They are black, and this time, he can't manage to tear his gaze away.
You want him to stare, you think. You love when he's looking at you, when it's clear you've captured every last shred of his attention — and right now, it appears you definitely have. Aki swallows, he looks you up and down and then shyly rests his weary gaze on your own. You'd do anything in the world to always have those pretty blue eyes on you, on only you.
He remains reluctantly still, in a trance as you crawl back over him. You draw closer, the mattress shifts under the addition of your weight. Your outline starts to take up his vision, and your fingers, tracing his jaw at first, are then beginning to run through his hair — Tentatively, he allows a hand to slip behind you and hold the small of your back, nice and gently. Comfortably, as if it was meant to be there. You don't try and stop him.
He looks you up and down one more time. Breathes in, sighs out, purses his lips again, wants to speak but doesn't. His gaze locks with your own, and his expression goes the softest you've ever seen it. He finds some stability in your eyes, enough to finally admit something of what he's been thinking.
"You look pretty."
You twist a strand of his hair around your finger and chuckle, "Think so?"
Aki could answer that with just a yes. Yes, you are, I know so. But instead, he stalls. He freezes up because in reality, there's so much more he wants to say to you.
You look pretty, and you're beautiful, you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He really doesn't deserve you, your kindness or your sympathy or your beauty. Before, he was sure the prettiest sight he's ever laid eyes on was the sunset over the snowy mountains in Hokkaido, but you make him beg to reconsider.
And if he said it, as stupid and cheesy as it is, if he was somehow able to find words that don't exist to describe how perfect he thinks you are and how great of an imprint you've already left on him, it simply wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be enough to deserve the softness of your heart even if he gave you everything he has.
He wants to kiss you again. He holds your face in his shaky palm and he almost does. Almost.
"Aki, I-" You start, he's pulling you in but he's suddenly stopping, your eyes flicker over his face and your voice trails into weakness towards the end, "I really want to keep going."
"You do?" The sweet lilt in your tone makes him answer quickly, before he's even really thought about it.
"Mhmm, is that something you want too?" Your palm is creeping up his chest and he hopes you can't feel the skip in his heartbeat.
"Ah, yeah, just- uh-" He steadies himself with a slow breath in before he speaks again, "What do you mean by… you know. Keep going?"
Now, you're the one leaning in. Aki inhales sharply, he half-expects you to kiss his lips like he was hoping for but instead, you leave his heart stuck up in his throat when you tilt your head and cup your hand around his ear; your voice is a crisp summer breeze as you sigh out his name.
"Aki…"
Heart sinking back down, it's warm and melty inside his chest. Your next words make it stutter.
"Do you wanna fuck me?"
"Huh?"
His response comes out of shock; you push yourself up, your eyes stay locked onto his and he's so caught up with trying to remember how to breathe he almost doesn't notice how you're sliding back and reaching for his belt. Your fingers grasp around the buckle, you aren't trying to undo it, just fiddling, making it jingle to prove a point. The sound gets him to come to his senses, your words hit him like a slap in the face and before you can make another move, he reaches to grab your wrist and stop you.
He's barely able to speak without stuttering: "Hold on, just… hold on."
"Sorry, too forward?"
"It's- you're- look, you-" He can't even talk, "You can't say it like that."
"Ah. You're right, I shouldn't have. We don't have to do anything. If that's what you want."
Clearly, you've got the wrong idea. He wants so goddamn much with you, he wouldn't even know where to start.
Aki shakes his head, he snaps and stammers quickly in response, "No, no, I- I want to, I do. But I..."
Trailing off. Your eyes widen. "Really?"
Gently squeezing your wrist, he sighs, and he continues, "Yes, I want to, it's just… I'm- Shit, how do I put this?"
"You're scared? Too shy?"
"Sure, yeah. But that's- it's not what I'm trying to say." Aki looks away from you, once again trailing off into silence until you have the mercy to break it for him.
"What are you trying to say, then?"
He's fucked. Gotten himself in way, way too deep. Messed everything up the moment he decided to open his stupid mouth. You make it impossible to lie. Why couldn't he have just not said anything?
"Nevermind."
"No, no nevermind," You take your hand away from his grip, his fingers go slack and he lets go without a fight. You hold his face and softly squish his cheeks 'til his lips are pursed even harder than before. "C'mon, you have to tell me now."
You don't understand. He could, and this shouldn't be so difficult. But honestly, telling you would feel like quite possibly the most humiliating thing he's ever done or ever will do. Normally he wouldn't care as much as he does, he knows he's being real stupid right now, real embarrassing in his own right, but when you're the one involved it becomes a completely different story. He cares about your impression of him more than he'd like to admit.
Still looking away, "I can't."
"I'm pretty sure you can."
"I- I don't know. Listen, I want this with you. I do. But, I mean I'm… I haven't-" Again and again, he tries to set himself up to say the words, only to fail each time. He sighs, "You wouldn't want to do this anymore if I told you."
"Not true," You huff, smiling, "It's not so easy to change my mind. I already said you can tell me anything, didn't I? Just say it."
Aki stays silent for a few long, drawn-out seconds. His voice comes out quieter this time, softer, more uncertain. "I… I haven't- I've never… you know…"
He takes a quick glance up at you before looking away, his cheeks are burning. Never what?
You're clueless at first. The last thing you want is to push him too much, so you keep quiet, patiently waiting for Aki to sort out his sentences. You caress the length of his jaw with your thumb, listen to the way his breath hitches and tilt his chin towards you a bit when he refuses to look at you.
Right when you thought you were getting close to cracking him, he shuts down again. You wonder if it's something you did, if it's the environment, if the pressure managed to overwhelm him at last. You're starting to realize you and him are so close and so far at the exact same time, and there's still so much you don't understand.
He seemed like the innocent type, the kind of person who keeps themselves out of trouble, but any other guy would have forgotten that whole charade by now. Aki is far from any other guy, sure, but even for someone like him — No, especially for someone as straightforward and composed as he is, he should have no problem pushing his nervousness aside and taking charge. On the surface it'd seem that way.
Is he always this nervous? Is he actually a nervous wreck constantly struggling to keep it together? Is he too focused on his goals as a devil hunter to talk to girls? Working yourself to death all the time doesn't leave much room for other pursuits. But he's handsome and polite and honest with a good personality, so there's no reason, nothing you can think of to explain why you wouldn't want to get closer to him.
There's no reason for him to be so anxious. So troubled, so shy. It's just sex. Right?
At that moment, without him ever saying a word, everything starts to click in your brain. His hesitance, his inexperience. What you probably should have realized from the very start.
Yes, he does have a reason to be so scared and so clumsy with everything. There is a reason why a man as stern as him would suddenly start to act this damn unsure of himself. You've finally figured it out.
Oh. He's a virgin.
#aki hayakawa x reader#aki x reader#chainsaw man x reader#aki hayakawa x you#aki x you#aki hayakawa smut#chainsaw man smut
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Omg, girl!! Im the one who requested the "enemies" to lovers with Jason Todd one, and GIRL. I loved it. Was better than i was expecting. Please, write part two!( kiss scene? Hehe)Or a whole Bible if you want. Honestly, i only said a "quick" one because i was trying to be polite, didn't want to push or anything lol.
Anyway, thank you for writing my request!!
thank you soo much!! <333 this is a second parter to this post, but it can be read as a stand alone. hope you enjoy it as much as I liked continuing it!!
The kiss happens in two parts. Not to say that you can carefully dissect it into two parts, but that the kiss almost happens once and then it finally does, kind of.
Once when the two of you are on mission. In a slimy dive bar in some redacted location. You've been following your mark all day and ended up here. He's slinging back cheap shots of an off brand liquor as you and Red watch from the roof of the place.
He's been followed all day and hasn't made you once, which is a good thing. Or a bad thing. So you and Red decide to switch it up. There was no need to drag it out any longer. You could confront him and get the info you needed.
That was the plan.
Until the two of you were about to corner your mark. You were waiting on the street and Red was on the other side of it. It was going well until all of a sudden he met up with a familiar face. Falcone. Red pulled off his side of the street quickly and met up with you.
He doesn't say much. He doesn't say anything at all as he takes your arm and drags you around the wall of a store. You have half the mind to question him but you don't. Until he starts taking off the bottom part of his mask.
You try to stop him, but he crowds into your space. He whispers a very clear apology for being too close to you. And then he explains that him being here, would be a dead give away to Falcone. He might blow up whatever plans he has.
Both of you can hear them walking your way. And the only thing you can think of is apologizing to Red before fitting his fcae right into your neck. In the darkness of the night no one can really see his helmet. Or both of your suits.
They walk by without any second thought to the two of you. And you wait about five seconds before telling Red he was okay to pick his head up from your neck.
The drive to he motel was awkward to say the least.
The second time is when you're in the middle of changing in said motel. It's the last night of the mission. You're just about ready to go home to your comfortable bed and front door that has more than one lock.
Red is in a room on this floor. But the two of you haven't run into each other outside of your masks. It's weird. Like weird as in, it probably should have happened by now, but it hasn't. You think to yourself maybe the universe isn't ready to answer that question yet.
With a towel wrapped around your body you're about to start changing into your sleep wear when you hear something odd. A pop coming from outside. Then another one.
You grab your firearm and go over to the door. You look through the peep hole and see nothing. But you know you heard something. So you open the door , just to peek your head out. And at the right time too.
All of a sudden you see a tall man, white streak of hair, coming your way. He's wearing sweatpants and a black muscle tee. Once he makes eye contact with you, he starts running your way. You don't have time to close the door before he's standing in your face begging you to kiss him.
He's out a breath, and he's practically begging at this point. You're not about to kiss a random man. But when you hear the following footsteps you know he is in danger.
So you agree. And this guy apologizes to you in advance as he leans you against your door and cradles the back of your head with his hand. You almost sort of melt into the kiss. Just for a second. only for a second actually.
Because you realize, the way this man just apologized for what he was about to do, is the same way Red apologized to you the other night. And your brain feels like it's on fire because you realize this isn't some random man. This is Red.
This is Red and you know what he looks like. And he definitely knows it you because your'e the same person he saved in the alleyway in Gotham. Coincidences like that don't happen. Especially when you kind of hinted at it with the first word you said to him as a civilian.
🏷️ @12134z03
#dc x reader#Jason todd x reader#Jason todd imagine#Jason todd blurb#dc blurbs#dc imagine#dc#Jason todd
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My Little Spawn Pt.3 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)
Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all.
Authors Note: Thank you all so much for the support! I am so glad you are all loving this series so far! As always please, like, reblog and comment if you are loving this series and hopefully others would like it as well. Also...THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST. Since we reached this number, I would do another father figure series because I feel I'm much better at that than a romance x reader version. Who should it be? Gale? Wyll? Rolan? Gortash? So many choices!
Astarion leans against the rocky wall watching you get swarm by the female druids and Tieflings coddling you from how adorable you are. He lets out a small smile seeing you pout as the ladies coo at you. He thinks back to the discovery he found out 2 nights ago. Dhampir, when has Cazador ever been involved with a human. More importantly which dumb female wants to be in a relationship with Cazador. He looks at you seeing you trying to squirm away from the ladies. He sudden thinks back how protective Cazador was with you. Never letting you step out of the palace even at night….no…he wasn’t protecting you but rather himself. He’s raising you as a spawn to conceal the reality of your powers. What a bastard but then again Astarion is not surprised, it’s Cazador after all.
You finally had enough of this ladies and burst out crying “Astarion!” You wail feeling overwhelmed. He sighs and walks over “Excuse me Ladies, I think the little one has enough and I hate for them to get cranky.” He picks you up walking away from the pouting ladies. “Now, now, there is no need to cry” He sighs and rubs your back as you whimper clinging on to his armor. “Don’t like the attention or what?” He asked as you only kept quiet whimpering a couple times laying your head on his shoulder trying to relax. He leans his head back trying to look at you, “Are…you okay, so odd of you to be quiet.” He mutters trying to find the group in the grove. “I just miss home…I miss papa…and everyone else…” You mutter. He sighs “there, there but you have me no?” He hums walking through the grove enjoying this simple conversation with you. “I want to go home…my clothes don’t fit much…it hurts me and I miss my toys!” You whine. Astarion lets out a chuckle “Oh what a spoiled little spawn…well creature…eh, you’ll always be a little spawn to me.” He puts you down looking at you, it was true, he did notice you were an inch taller than yesterday and your clothes did look a bit tight. “Oh you weren’t kidding…” He thinks looking around “Dhampir do grow faster and mature faster….” He mutters to himself before going to a trader seeing if they have anything in stock, fabric even.
As he was busy, you stray from him as you spotted a few tiefling children playing. You ran over smiling “Can I play!” You stood in front of them. “Sure! You’re from Baldur’s gate aren’t you by the way you talk and dress?” One of them smiles, “What games do you play at home?” One asked. You think carefully. Games, well you play ball by yourself, Cazador has you learn reading and writing. “I…um…I don’t know…usually papa has me studying and sends his people to play with me.” You held your hands behind your back and kick your feet in a shy manner. “Oh…you’re those kinds…Um….I think I heard my mom calling” They quickly left as the others give other excuses and leave you alone. You only look down and grab the ball they dropped bouncing it on your own. “What’s the matter?” Gale walks over seeing the scene. You look up, eye glossy trying not to let tears fall down. “Making friends is hard…” You whisper “Back home there is no other children playing with me…” Gale looks at you thinking back to himself as a young child. “It is isn’t it?” He smiles gently grabbing the ball from you and tossing it to you playing. You smile giggling and toss it back to him. “I don’t have any friends at home to play with, papa never lets me leave the big castle…” You catch the ball as it was tossed back. “Is that so? I know how it feels to be lonely…how about this.” He catches the ball and placed it down as he squats to your height. “(Y/N) would you like to be my friend?” He smiles as your eyes widen gasping. “You mean it!” Your little body bouncing with excitement. Gale nods waiting for your response. “Yes!” You bounce happily “ I have to tell Astarion!” You ran off to find the pale elf. Gale chuckles watching run off to bother Astarion with a big smile on your face.
The next day You were told to stay in the grove. Shadowheart chuckles watching you pouting away eating whatever was given to you. “I want to go out too!” You look up at her. She only sighs “How do I deal with children…you want to go out you say? I guess we can outside the gates and collect some herbs. I know everyone is going to need healing after this battle.” Getting up, she held your hand and walked outside of the grove. You ran around happily collecting flowers for everyone. “What am I supposed to collect?” You asked her. She smiles fixing your hair “See this herb right there, that’s what we need.” She points as your eyes follow the direction she was pointing at. You ran over picking it up smiling and collected more. She only sits by the rock watching you over as you collected whatever caught your little eye. You hum the same tune Cazador would hum to you. Collecting flowers you stopped seeing a bunny hop around in the distance. Shadowheart was busy playing with the artifact like a rubik's cube only to look up hearing the poor bunny squeal in the distance. She panics not seeing you and gets up putting the artifact away. “(Y/N)!?” She follows the sound before going down a small path behind a rock wall seeing you drain the blood of the poor bunny. You look up at her blood soaking your shirt and your lips stained. “What…are you doing?” She slowly walks over to you and kneels by you. You look at him “I…I didn’t mean to…I wanted to play with the bunny but…” You began to wail feeling overwhelmed by these urges. “Oh please don’t cry.” Shadowheart panics looking around, not knowing what to do in this scenario. “Where is the Spawn when you need him…okay. Let’s clean you up and a nap will help” She holds your hand ignoring the blood and toss the rabbit on the side into a bush for a wolf or other animal to chow on. She walks to the river and makes you wash your hands. “Relax, everything is going to be okay.” She whispers as you whimper. She collects water into her palm and rubs off the blood from your shirt the best of her ability. She sighs seeing the shirt to be now discolored into the blood stain. “Your bag is in the grove….we can’t let them see you like this.” She wipes your cheeks clean as well. You look over hearing the bush rustle behind her. Shadowheart quickly picked you up and took out her mace. “Who goes there!” She glares. You cling to her only to tear up seeing Astarion walk out of the bush.
“There you are, I thought I smelled blood near the gate.” He was out of breath and bruised from the battle they came back. His hair was all over the place and had a panicked look on his face. Shadowheart puts her mace away “Don’t scare me like that! I could’ve swing!” She scolds at him. He paid no attention to her as he walks over seeing your face stained in tears and a scared look. He noticed your clothes stained in blood. He took you from her arms and held you close, his hand on the back of your head. “What in the hells were you thinking?! I thought it was your blood I smelled all the way from the gates! I thought you got hurt!” He yells but not loudly knowing how much you hate it. You only laid your little head on his shoulder crying into his shoulder, your fist clinging on to him. He softens a bit feeling your little shoulders shake, you were scared. “What happened?” He looks at Shadowheart ready to pin this on her. “What did you do to them!” He glares at her. Hearing the commotion, Tav found them along with the others following. “What’s going on? Why is (Y/N) crying?” Tav walks over ready to stop Astarion seeing the murderous glare at the young woman. “What did you do!” He repeats to her, holding you close. “Their Dhampir side came out…” Shadowheart looks at him, feeling a bit speechless seeing him get this overprotective. She snaps out of it and points to the bunny in the bush. Gale walks over but turns around quickly “If you have a weak stomach…I suggest not looking” He covers his mouth. Tav walks over and looks at the bunny. “Gods…its in pieces….” They whisper. Hearing their comments made you tear up. They think your a monster, they won’t be your friends anymore…they won’t take you to see your home and papa anymore. You only hide your face more, letting out choked sobs. “Enough! Think before you speak.” Astarion held you close “We just hide the damn bunny and do our best to cheer them up…they are feeling overwhelmed and not themselves…gods do you people ever use your brain?” He walks off holding you close.
Night fell, you were in Astarion tent, in the corner. The pale elf walks in holding food, “Your still human…you need to eat this….we can start implementing human foods more than blood to control that urge.” He sits by you. You only look at the plate, hugging your knees and shake your head no. “(Y/N)...it was okay what you did…it’s in your nature…and I know your scared…I was too…when I first became a spawn….” He whispers softly and scoots closer only for you to scoot away. “ No…I don’t want to you…or anyone…like I did to Mr.Bunny..” You tear up. “Is that why mommy didn’t want me…am I a monster…they…probably won’t be my friends anymore” You whispers thinking back their reaction to the bunny. Astarion looks at you before grabbing your arm, you gasp and try to wiggle away, scared to hurt him only to feel a warm embrace. Astarion held you close, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “By hells, you are speaking nonsense little spawn.” He rubbed your back. “If they thought of us as monster, we wouldn’t be here now…they…are odd in their own ways you know so no one is perfect.” He grabbed the plate “Now eat up” He feed you a piece of fish and sat you on his lap, making sure you ate. You happily munched feeling slightly better.
After finishing your food, you laid your little head on Astarions chest as he held you close in one arm while the other was busy reading a book about Dhampir’s he found in a box. Your little doe eyes look up seeing everyone walk to Astarion’s tent. You cling to him feeling anxious only to calm down as Astarion rubs your little arm, “Relax, they come bearing gifts” He hums. Gale was the first one to talk “(Y/N), it was rude of me to…you know…having a weak stomach but you have nothing to worry about, I will always be your friend.” He smiles and leans down leaving down a purple wrapped gift on the ground for you smiling. He rubs your head “Sleep well” He whispers before being pushed back by Karlach, “Hey little soldier! Look what I got you” She smiles placing the small stuff bear in your arms which you happily accepted. “Thank you” You whisper shyly hugging the bear. Shadowheart smiles as it was her turn. “I got you some pretty flowers and made a couple of bracelets, we both have one. “ She shows off hers and place the other next to Gale’s gift. Tav walks over smiling and crouched next to you and Astarion. “Mine…you’ll have to wait because I promise…I will take you back home” They pat your head. Upon hearing this, you gasp. “You mean it! I get to see my papa soon!” You sat up.
Astarion leans back watching you interact happily with everyone, that fear gone. He chuckles seeing you yawn and rub your eyes. “Alright little spawn time for sleep.” He looks at the others shooing them away from his tent and picks you up, fixing the bedroll and lays down, holding you close. He wasn’t going to let you go through this alone, not on his watch. You’re his little spawn after all.
#dadstarion#dadstarion x child reader#dad astarion#bg3 x reader#bg3 astarion#bg3 fanfiction#bg3 fic#bg3#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate fic#baldurs gate 3#gale dekarios#karlach#shadowheart#fatherfigure#astarion#MyLittleSpawn
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— PLEASE DON'T HIT (ON) ME! ౨ৎ PGW
O17. finding wonbin
✸ SYNOPSIS ! : in which you have your fair share of embarrassing moments. one of it being punching a guy's nose for a plushie (which you did not get at the end). but what will you do when he ended up going to the same class as you. wait, oh no! he recognised you. now you're in for one hell of a ride.
989 wc (not proofread)
Coming home to the sight of you lounging around the house is no longer an odd sight for Gunwook.
What is an odd sight, though, is seeing you pacing around back and forth with your hand on your mouth as you lightly bite on your nails— a habit you only pick up whenever you're anxious.
Upon hearing the sound of the door coming unlocked, you immediately stop pacing around and turn your head towards the door sharply— only for you to sigh deeply when the person at the door is not who you're expecting to see.
Gunwook scoffs at you, "I know that I'm not a pleasant sight to you but there's absolutely no need for you to sigh whenever you see me. " He jokes and walks towards you after hanging his coat on the rack near the front door.
"What are you even so anxious about— " His words are cut off shortly by you, "Have you seen Wonbin? Or even heard from him at least? "
Gunwook frowns at this, having neither seen or heard from Wonbin today since he came home after hanging out with you today. He shook his head and asks why.
You feel your heart drop to your stomach.
"Gunwook, we need to go out right now. " His question is brushed off as your fingers hook into the fabric of his clothing as you drag him towards the front door.
Hooking your fingers off his clothing, Gunwook opts to holding your hand instead and asks you why again.
Instead of answering his question, you decide to ignore it yet again and put on your coats in a hurry. When you try to put Gunwook's coat on him, he grabs your hand again and asks you the same question.
"I'm not letting go of your hand before you tell me what's going on. " Your hand is now squeezed tightly in his hold. "Until you tell me what's going on with Wonbin and why you're clearly not in a right state of mind. "
You chews on the bottom of your lips and let out a sigh. "Wonbin's missing. "
"What? " Gunwook screeched and let go of your hand.
"I mean, he's not technically missing but he told me that he will come home late tonight but he hasn't been reading my texts since like eleven thirty. " Those words fell deaf to Gunwook's ears as he quickly put on his coat and shoes. He even helps put your shoes on.
The car ride is silent as Gunwook drives towards Wonbin's work place— a humble cafe in a busy street.
Most stores are already closed considering the time aside from a few bars and pubs which are still full with people. Gunwook opts going into those bars and pubs to search for Wonbin but you decide against, knowing that Wonbin would tell you if he were to go into one.
It has been over forty-five minutes since you and Gunwook have been driving around the street and you guys are still unable to track down Wonbin.
All phone calls are redirected towards his voicemail and you can't even ask around since neither of you know the people around much and neither does Wonbin.
"Hey Y/n? " Gunwook calls you, breaking the silence. You hum a reply— too tired to even reply properly. Your eyelids are halfway open and are about to close anytime soon. "I don't think Wonbin is around here. Should we go back home and try again tomorrow? "
Your eyes are suddenly wide open as you turned your head towards Gunwook who slows down the car to look at you.
You feel your throat goes dry as you croak out a small "Sure. "
"Your dorm? " He asks again and you just nod, your eyes already closing as you slowly drift away to dreamland.
After driving around for a few minutes, Gunwook realises that you have never tell him the address to your house.
"Hey, you never tell me where your house is. " He turns his head towards you only to find you snoring lightly as sleep has taken over your body. He glances at the time and feels his heart clenches at your tired state.
Gunwook decided to let you rest more as he drives to his house instead.
Getting you into the lift and to his house on his back while making sure that you're still sleeping soundly is surely a challenge— especially with you tossing around so often. Gunwook however manages to put you down on his bed without waking you up.
It isn't until he brushes your hair away from your face that you stir awake. "Are we home yet? " You mumble your question as you're still not fully awake.
"No. I don't know your address and didn't want to wake you up. " Gunwook rubs your head in a calming manner.
"Sorry for being such a burden to you. You must be tired of driving around until early in the morning. " You try sitting up from his bed but Gunwook holds you down. "It's nothing. You must've been more tired. Go to sleep. "
"Then where are you going to sleep at? " Gunwook smiles softly and stands up from the mattress. "I can just sleep on the couch. "
You shake your head and hold his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. Gunwook stares at your hand enveloping his wrist before trailing his eyes towards yours.
You lock eyes with him briefly before scooting over to the side of Gunwook's bed, leaving a space beside you big enough for him to fit in.
"Sleep beside me. " Your hand pat the vacant space beside you, inviting Gunwook to sleep beside you. "I don't think that I can sleep alone with all this overthinking. "
Gunwook smiles and joins you in the bed, one of his pillow wedges between the both of you to prevent you guys ending up in any awkward situation.
"Goodnight. " Gunwook wishes softly.
"You too, goodnight. "
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author notes 🐰ྀི first a/n omgee 😝😝 anws dw guys this won't be sad. i just want to show u guys the changed dynamic between gunwook and yn
TAGLIST : @nanadreamies @run2min @dwcljh @leehanascent @pwrcelanii @320flora @chaeryvips @rikimylove @chillychuu @marshwatz @shotaroswifeyily @jayujus @replayenthusiast @yyfka @girlokarina @sionshiii @sparklingsjy @annoyingbitch83 @sillybabycat @junnysbae @07yujin @istphanie @2ynjns @kaynunu @egoistars @bloobworld @xiaoquanquans @heartswonn @infinitehaos @ffixtionista (send an ask or reply to this post to be added!)
#✩ - please don't hit (on) me!#zb1 fluff#zerobaseone#zb1#zerobaseone x reader#zb1 x reader#gunwook#park gunwook#zb1 gunwook#gunwook x reader#park gunwook x reader#zb1 scenarios#zb1 imagines#zb1 texts#zerobaseone smau
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Balls in Laundry Baskets: An Apology
Rating: Teen and Up
CW: Bitchy/Mean Steve Harrington, Mean Eddie Munson (Both Briefly and For Good Reason)
Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair Friendship, Eddie Munson Gets Put in His Place, Lucas Sinclair is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Protective Steve Harrington, Emotionally Hurt Lucas Sinclair, Emotionally Hurt Steve Harrington, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Means Well He's Just Defensive, Hurt People Hurt Others
This is chapter one, which also includes the first two pages that I already posted. Please keep your expectations low, as I'm still working on the second and final chapter.
Read on AO3
Read Chapter Two Read Chapter Three (Final)
🏀—————🏀
“So, you and Eddie, huh?”
Steve startles at the sound of a voice, deep and hushed, from where he’s been waiting in Hawkins High’s parking lot. Hellfire was supposed to be out by now—6:50pm if his watch is correct—it’s their first time back since March and it would be cordial. But it seems that only Lucas got that memo.
“Jesus Christ, Sinclair!” He yelps. Holds his right palm flat against his chest, trying his best to rescind the spike of panic that is crawling through him. “I thought I told you to quit doing that,” he harshly whispers, rubbing his palm against his shirt. The scratchy material of his polo a balm against his nerves.
“Sorry,” Lucas sheepishly murmurs. Speaking at a normal volume, he asks again, “So, you and Eddie?”
He rolls his eyes. “What about me and Eddie? Can’t I just hang out with the guy without being pestered?”
Lucas shrugs. “You can do whatever you want,” he states, but Steve can already tell there’s somehow more. “But I didn’t think you two would be…buddies. Considering how he feels about, y’know, sports and whatever.”
For a moment, Steve considers Lucas’s approach. His fidgeting hands and his slightly closed off eyes. The hunch to his shoulders and the general unease that accompanies talking about Eddie. Which, that’s particularly odd. Aren’t they buddies, Steve questions himself. Wrapped up in the Hellfire club, their mutual interest in Dungeons & Dragons, the ragtag group of nerds that they are—all of that is perfect for their oddball friendship, at least Steve thought so.
“What’s wrong with you and Eddie?” Steve asks, beating around the bush. He doesn’t do cryptic. And he especially doesn’t do it with somebody like Lucas, a kid already smarter than him by several margins.
There isn’t an answer right away. But Lucas’s shoulders drop. His eyes go from frustrated to…sad. “Remember my championship game?” He asks, though it seems a bit much of a topic change. What does this have to do with Eddie, Steve has to wonder.
“Well, yeah,” he answers instead, “I was there. Had a pathetic date with a girl I hardly enjoyed being around. Mocked Tammy Thompson with Robin. Watched you get that winning shot. It was a, genuinely, awesome championship game.” And that’s the truth. It’s the best one he’s ever witnessed. Which is saying something, considering he’d played several championship games. All of them, though, were major losses. He’ll take those to the grave with him, with how often his previous basketball teams teased him.
Lucas gives a harsh single nod, a small smile that whisks away as soon as it appears. “Right,” he mutters, “I remember.” He leans against the Beemer’s bumper, shoulder brushing with Steve’s. Looks forlorn towards the high school’s doors, where Eddie and the rest of the Hellfire bunch should be spilling out any moment now. Steve looks on with him. Listens as Lucas’s voice drops low, nearly angry, fully spiteful, “I begged Dustin and Mike to talk to Eddie about my game. To see if the Hellfire campaign—which would be happening the same night—could be moved. And I, look, I understand that D&D means a lot to all of them, it means something to me, too. But I was really hoping to see my friends there. If not my friends, then at least Erica.
“They didn’t move the campaign,” he states so bitter, Steve tastes the words on his own tongue, “apparently a game where you’re shooting ‘balls into laundry baskets’ is too…mainstream and norm-ie for Eddie. He refused to move his precious game. Then, get this, instead of getting some random kid to play, they egged Erica in.” Lucas drags his eyes away from the school, head turning slow to look at Steve. He follows suit, eyeing Lucas back. His stomach churns with the vitriol painting itself unsubtly across Lucas’s face. “Color me surprised, I guess, that he’s going out with a jock,” he states, voice carefully blank of anything.
Steve stares on at him. He didn’t know this was the case at all. Remembers getting the phone call about Dustin wanting him to play, but he figured that had something to do with him bugging Steve for the millionth time. Because that was something Dustin wanted. For Steve to play. And, granted, Steve refused because it was too nerdy—unimportant and embarrassing. Yet, now he’s looking into Lucas’s face. Where hurt etches itself like solid lines of chiseled marble. Being told, instead, that Eddie’s holding his own bias.
Maybe he hasn’t removed his biases towards high school nerds, not completely. But he’s coming undone from that mentality. Considering Nancy and Robin and Eddie—Dustin and Mike and Lucas—even Max, they’re all big nerds. They all have some sort of interest with Dungeons & Dragons or theater or video games and math. And he loves them all. Though, Steve’s never stopped to think about the opposite side of the coin. Tail-side, where balls in laundry baskets is considered taboo.
After a deep silence when Steve finally digests this information, his eyebrows furrow on their own accord. Mouth downturning into a harsh frown, one that he feels to the bottoms of his feet. He stops himself in time from balling his hands into fists, but the urge to do so snarls in him like a newly unmuzzled, wild dog. A dog, he thought, that he trained obedient away from his anger. But it seems like once the teeth are bared, they never truly hide away.
“That ass,” Steve snarks. “What—so I have to reconsider all my biases surrounding nerds, reconstruct how I view everybody around me, and realize how awesome it is. And—what—Eddie can just get away with that…bullshit? That’s…What the hell?” There’s a little bit more of a bite to his words than he had anticipated. But it really isn’t fair. The table turns and he’s better for it, sure, but Eddie just…That’s not fair. The dog growls louder, drool burbling in its chops, a bark forming in the back of its throat.
“That’s what I thought,” Lucas says, “and I know, I know, that Dustin and Mike tried everything in their power. And that Eddie was the one to, y’know, be the asshole. But I thought that maybe my friends would be on my side. That they’d skip the game, show Eddie up. Not get my little sister involved or have fun without me or…I don’t know.” And the way he says those last three words stings something acidic inside of Steve. Corrosion and battery acid hot and alive in his stomach. Anger reaching the surface of his skin, words crawling and resonating in his mouth.
The doors to the school open distantly and Lucas suddenly perks back up, blossoming from where he was wilted against Steve’s car. “Doesn’t matter,” he chirps, though it’s all fake, “at least I can play with them now, which is awesome.”
But before he can stride away, to where his bike is parked and locked up, Steve snakes a hand onto Lucas’s wrist. They lock eyes again. “I’ll talk to him,” Steve swears, “he’ll apologize.”
“Steve, you don’t—“
“You used sports as a means to fit in, right? Granted, popularity’s not all that cool and you know that especially now. But it was a…a—“ He snaps his fingers, searching for the word. “—A cover, something to find security in. And you had that. And that’s what the D&D game is to Eddie. Sports is my D&D, too.” He loosens his grip on Lucas’s arm. Neither make any sort of move. “Just because you were trying to find your people doesn’t mean you can be…” He chooses his next words carefully. “Ostracized or outcast by those who you found safety with before. Especially when those guys orbit around each other for the same reason. I’ll talk to him,” he urges, “and he will apologize, or else.”
Lucas gives him a softened look. “Thanks, Steve,” he mutters, “I wasn’t looking to start anything, but I appreciate you having my back. It really means a lot.” And then he shuffles away, towards his bicycle, small chat starting up with Mike and Dustin.
When Steve turns back towards the school, Eddie is sauntering towards him. Eyes wide. Smile big and easy. Yet, his soft features are all too nauseating to Steve’s chest right now. His heart aches. If Eddie thinks of Lucas’s interests that way, what does he think of mine?
He tamps down his annoyance and anger. Because Eddie takes his hand and is looking at him as if the world belongs to the two of them. But that hurt on Lucas’s face is like a dagger impaled in his brain when Eddie greets nice and low, “Hi, baby. Been thinking about you the entire time I was in there.”
Steve smiles, though it may come off as more of a grimace with how Eddie falters. “Been thinking about you, too,” he echoes. Though, thinking positively isn’t what he’s been doing, as far as anybody’s concerned. Beat around the bush, he tells himself. He takes a steadying breath, posture straightening, demeanor changing. Says with a sour tone, “I, uh, I think we need to have a little talk in the car, if that’s okay? It’s not a breakup thing, but it might make you…somebody might get mad and I don’t want to cage you in at my house.”
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. His eyes go distant very briefly. When he refocuses on Steve, something has hardened in his features. Steve’s throat goes tight. “It can’t wait until after our date night?” There’s a low amount of ire in his words already and Steve is momentarily caught in it. Until he lets his eyebrows scrunch down his face again, giving in to that tightness in his throat.
He sighs, annoyed already. “No, Eddie,” he bites without meaning to. “I need to talk to you now. I’m already upset about it and it’s not going to do me any good to just brush it off.” His hand releases from Eddie’s grip, falling heavy against his side. He turns towards his driver’s side door and stares back at where Eddie is rooted. “Come on,” he states lowly, “you were the one to tell me to talk about the shit that’s bothering me. Can’t ignore it just because it has to do with you.”
Bitchy is probably not the best approach to all of this, but Steve is already cornered out of options. He pulls his door open with more force than necessary. Slides into his seat, key into the ignition, and honks once at Eddie. Jarringly gestures at the passenger seat. Thankfully, there’s nobody else to witness the potential torrential fire that’s brewing in him. It’ll be just the two of them; though that realization stirs something sickly in Steve’s stomach.
Eddie gets in silently. Places his school bag in the footwell. And keeps his face pointed out the windshield. “What’s wrong?” He asks, though his voice is devoid and edging on irritated.
Steve rolls his eyes, though Eddie can’t see him. He sets his hands firmly on his steering wheel. Squeezes the leather for comfort, an instinct. And heaves a sigh, urging himself to be calmer about this. “I had a talk with Lucas,” he starts. “About, uh, about his championship game back in March.”
Next to him, Eddie immediately tenses.
He continues without acknowledgement. Keeps himself as leveled as possible. “He told me that you refused to move your game for his. That he was looking forward to having his friends, which I’m assuming includes you, watch him play. And I—I know how important that championship game was to him. Y’know, it’s one of the bigger—“
“Are you mad because I didn’t want to sit at some jock event?” Eddie interrupts, question clipped. Though there’s also mild amusement in his tone, as if Steve being upset is poposterous. He continues without any regard for Steve. “In a room full of, mind you, people who hate me?”
Steve tenses more than Eddie had. His shoulders hiking and his stomach knotting impossibly more. Finally lets the dog bark, gives in to whatever it wants. “You know what, Eddie?” He bitches back. “I am mad at you. In fact, I…I…I’m so fucking angry that you…you make this whole deal about ‘lost sheep’ and herding them in to play your game. You concern yourself with making a community for people who are lost to the crowd of cliques in that school. And it’s just—Lucas is one of those kids! He is, even if that means he wants to play basketball!”
The passenger seat squeaks. Clothes rustling as Eddie turns toward him. But Steve doesn’t rip his eyes from the windshield. If anything, he leans more towards the left, creating a deeper, larger space between them. His hands instinctively tighten on the steering wheel again.
“Yeah, I do pride myself on that,” Eddie spits. “I do. Which is why, honestly, it irks me that Lucas would pick a crowd full of assholes. A bunch of people who would never give him the time of day.”
Steve goes rigid at that. He was an asshole, too. He knows that. Eddie especially knows that. The Munson Doctrine wouldn’t exist without the inclusion of asshole jocks, Steve being near the top of the list. He tries to tell himself that Eddie doesn’t think of him that way, but it’s hard considering himself. Who he used to be. Instead, he takes another breath, this one longer and hopefully more steadying than the other ones have been.
“He went out for basketball for a sense of security,” Steve states slowly, verging on impatient. “To find somewhere to belong to. That’s all a freshman looks for—a group to be somebody with. And, you know, considering that he’s already sort of singled out for being one of a few black kids at the school…Belonging is kind of important to him.” He settles back into his seat, arms still stretched to their full length in front of him. His stomach is turning and his heart is racing. And why won’t Eddie just get this? “Even if the basketball team has a bunch of assholes, he still wanted to do it. He was celebrated for his skills, who he is—even if it was for a moment. Playing was, and probably still is, important to him. And you—“ Steve finally turns his head towards Eddie. Knows his eyes are shooting daggers, can see where they lodge themselves between Eddie’s ribs. He raises a finger and accuses, “—you made his game feel unimportant. None of his best friends came because they were toopreoccupied with your game.” His face grows unusually hot as his voice drags passionately. The words just tumbling, splattering between them. But he carries on like a fire fed, “They even got his little sister to play yourgame. And, you know what really hurt to hear? Lucas wanted at least Erica to watch. And she wasn’t there. She wasn’t there because of your game, Eddie. How do you think that looks to him?”
Eddie has the audacity to look cowed, appalled. His mouth agape and his eyes as two large craters on his face. And for the first time, probably ever, he is stunned into silence.
Steve looks away. Bitter. All that festers in him now is hurt, ache, sadness. He chews on his lip, inhales softly through his nose, and opens his mouth with a silent word. Finally, he murmurs, “When I came to the high school as a freshman, I did the exact same thing as Lucas did. I joined the basketball team. Not because I was good. Or because my dad forced me to, like everybody seems to think. It’s because I wanted to fit in.”
His eyes are stinging. Cheeks flushing even more with overwhelming, consuming emotion. Continues, “And, though I let the feeling eat away at me, it felt good to be protected by a camaraderie like that. Outside of the nerdy friend group I had in middle school, going into high school. It felt good. And—It’s not the same as why Lucas joined, I know that, but I can understand.
“On top of that, I never had friends or family members show up for me at my games. So, for me to know the hurt Lucas feels, that would be an understatement. What’s important to note, though, is that he had people in his life to be there for him and they didn’t show. They didn’t.”
The fight is draining out of him, but he has to solidify his point. Has to finish this or else. Thinks briefly that maybe he should quit while he’s ahead, but he can’t make himself do that. The ferocity engulfing him from the inside out all too much to ignore. He’s been beaten down before for Lucas, literally—oh so literally—but he’d do it again and again and again for that kid to find his footing. Including this…spat? One sided argument? This argument with his boyfriend.
“Even I was there,” he says, hollowly, “cheering him on. It just would’ve been nice, for him, to have more than just some washed up, ex-jock, nobody be there. Right? I’m sure you get where I’m coming from. You can understand what I’m saying.” He glances forlorn out his window. Can’t even muster the courage to look over at Eddie. He’s basically drained himself. Being vulnerable isn’t his forte, but he can be for the people around him. Even if it’s at the expense of his own well being. “Well, I thought you’d understand. Wanting to have a community, people to lean on, to make something of yourself. No matter the means. I just didn’t think you’d be part of the reason that Lucas feels so…so singular.”
He takes a deep breath, ignoring how nasally it is to his ears. And mutters, a final thing, “I didn’t think you viewed something that Lucas and I are into as so…nothing. I try my best to be better about what you like, but it seems that you don’t make that same effort. That’s not fair, Eddie. You should know that.”
Without much else to say and with Eddie’s eerie silence, he starts the car. Puts it into drive. And peels away into the silence of the long and stretching road.
Briefly, he thinks about turning on the radio or cranking down the window, but the air is too thick to move through. Even the slight turns of his steering wheel is enough to make him feel sick. He’s sick with how disgustingly to-the-point he had to be. Though, there’s no other way that Eddie would’ve listened. Not with how defensive he immediately got.
The original date night plan had been to go to his house, but he finds himself pulling into Forest Hills’ driveway. Past the dimly lit trailers and the striking quietness of Max’s home. He parks in the vacant spot next to Eddie’s van. Which, the van is broken down right now—the main reason Steve is even driving Eddie around. But, now what? Is Eddie mad at how mad Steve was? Is he going to realize that he doesn’t like Steve because of his interests, who he is? Is this it?
A gentle anxious thrum runs through Steve like the very blood he needs to exist.
He silences the car. And just sits with his hands in his lap. Looking blankly at Eddie’s front door.
“Your stop,” Steve murmurs.
Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs heavily through his nose. But he doesn’t make a move to open his door. To step out. To walk away from…all that Steve is and has been.
Steve turns to him, gestures loosely at the Munson’s. “Your stop,” he reiterates.
“I—“ Eddie musters, voice croaking and rough. “I didn’t realize that…I didn’t know Lucas was mad about that. I didn’t think it…mattered.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Steve bitterly states, “It’s not like you actually cared.”
“But I do,” Eddie insists, “I care so much about Lucas. And I care so much about you. I swear!” He finally moves, tossing himself in the seat to face Steve, flailing. His face a mournful thing, downturned and sad. Skin pale and his hands desperate and his voice urgent. “There’s no excuse, I know. But I just…The reason I look at jocks so awfully is because they’ve always turned on me, you know? They always downplay my interests and mock me and tease me for what I like. Which is why I have to show myself as the bigger guy, that I can take it. I just didn’t realize that I was doing it, too.”
Slowly, Steve crosses his arms over his chest. Fingers tightening over his biceps. “Real life and your friends are more important than biases, Eddie.”
“I see that now.”
“And I think that you…you love me? And that you like Lucas. But it’s just hard to feel that, for either of us, when you adamantly refuse to involve yourself in our interests. Even if it means attending some jock event. Even if it means sitting in a room full of people that hate you. Which, by the way, that isn’t true because Lucas and I both like you—I love you, even.” He faces Eddie again. His face a sure thing of great ache, based on Eddie’s own crestfallen eyes. “Maybe just…give us space for a couple days? Think about this. Apologize once you’ve given it some thought. I understand where the whole hating jocks thing comes from, but just think about how that hurts, too.”
Eddie takes a gasping breath. “But I’m sorry now, Stevie,” he swears, “I am. I’m so sorry.”
There’s part of those words that soothe Steve like aloe to a sunburn, but he can’t accept them. Knows that the sure sting of the burn will still be there if he lets Eddie do this now. So he collects himself, mulls the words, and defends himself—for once. “I’ll accept that when it doesn’t feel like you’re saying it just to make me feel better. I want you to mean it. And I want you to apologize to Lucas first.”
He watches Eddie nod fervently, sharply. His hands twisting together in his lap and his eyes wetting, shoved harshly to the side. “Yeah, okay,” his voice trembles, “okay, I’ll fix this.”
Carefully, Steve takes Eddie’s hands. Tugs them until Eddie looks at him. Involuntarily, he makes a soft, sympathetic noise. It’s clear in the wetness of Eddie’s eyes that he’s determined to change this, to make this better. It’s clear that he didn’t mean to hurt this severely. He presses deep into the back of Eddie’s hands, tethering himself down to the earth, away from the cloud of anger that threatens to swallow him whole.
“Hey,” he murmurs, “listen to me, baby. I know that you’re sorry. I know, okay? But Lucas won’t know that, he’ll probably think you’re saying it to get on his good side. And…maybe you are, a bit, but it’ll be better if you really mean it. Trust me.” He swipes his thumbs over Eddie’s knuckles, massages them to ease the tension. “I still love you. I’m still learning, too, to love your interests with my full heart. And I know that it’s hard to let go of stupid biases, but you’ll be better for it. You will, Eds, and you’ll find you actually feel good.” Steve runs his hands up Eddie’s arms, to his shoulders, the sides of his neck.
Gently, he cups Eddie’s face between his hands. Presses his thumbs underneath Eddie’s eyes.
Eddie softens, loosening. Breathes slowly onto Steve’s wrists. “I’ll make this right, Steve,” he promises quietly, “I want to love both of you guys right.”
“I believe you,” he whispers in turn, “you’re a good guy, Eddie. You’ve got a good soul and a good heart. But you just need to relearn some things, baby.” He leans in, softly pecks the soft tissue of Eddie’s facial scar, and pulls away. Reaches up and runs a hand through the wiry ends of Eddie’s curls. Finds that he does mean the softness in his words, even with the bitter edge in his chest. He murmurs, “Let’s cool off tonight, because I know we’re both upset. And we’ll reconvene in a couple days, after my shift. I’ll help you come up with a good apology, promise.”
“Okay,” Eddie mutters, sniffling.
“I love you,” he feels the need to remind.
“I love you, too, Stevie. And I mean that. I really do.”
🏀—————🏀
Taglist (Open For Chapter Two): @wonderland-girl143-blog @tinyplanet95 @sharingisntkaren @ghostquer @practicallybegging @croatoan-like-its-hot @reinedslys-central
#stranger things#Steve Harrington & Lucas Sinclair#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#lucas sinclair#angst and hurt/comfort#Eddie Munson & Lucas Sinclair
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Of Friends and Horror
Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis
WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA, Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ Content, Stalking, Possessiveness, Dirty talk
Word Count: 1.7k
Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @fanfic-enjoyer123
A/n: I had so much fun writing this part! Quick reminder, it’s based on the Scream 1996 movie so there will be a lot of the plot in it 🙂 Let me know what you think of this chapter down in the comments below 👇🏻 criticism is also appreciated, but don’t be too harsh lol. It just leaves room for more improvement, and if you want to be added to the taglist let me know below 🥰 Lastly, it’s also my first time writing a smut-like scene, so hopefully it isn’t too cringe… I haven’t proofread yet, but I’ll be doing that as it’s published and I’ll make changes as I go. Thank you for reading! I’m excited to see where this series will go!
All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻
OF&H Masterlist
Chapter 5
The landline rang and rang, interrupting your peaceful slumber. You groaned, slowly sitting up on your couch, sinking into the black cushions, tossing the fuzzy-dark purple blanket to the side.
“What the?” You murmured, half awake. You groggily rubbed at your eyes, attempting to get rid of any sleep that lingered.
You glanced at the blinking red and bold numbers that flashed across the alarm clock that sat quietly on the couch-side table; indicating that it was now 10:30pm.
School had ended several hours ago, so who could possibly be calling?
‘Hmm, maybe it’s Sidney calling to apologize.’ You thought, jokingly, knowing that she’d never do that.
“Alright, alright. I’m coming!” You moaned, annoyed at the frequent ringing that seemed to get louder and louder.
Pushing yourself off of what was your comfortable ‘bed’, you trekked to the kitchen where your landline was blaring.
You picked up the black phone, placing it against your ear.
“Ugh, hello?” You asked.
No answer, but you heard heavy breathing on the other side. “I said, hello?” You narrowed your eyes, leaning up against your marbled-kitchen counter.
“Hello…” A man spoke, his voice was odd, but eerily beautiful sounding. “Who is this?” He asked, and you tapped your fingers against your cheek, somewhat pissed.
“I should be asking you that.” You retorted, “But I’ll bite, who are you trying to reach?” You were genuinely curious to know because it’s not often you get phone calls like this, you should probably help in some way or another, right?
“What number is this?” He asked yet another question, ignoring what you had already asked.
You scoffed, he’s playing games, that you can tell.
“Why don’t you look at your caller ID and see?” You snipped, not in the mood for any pranks.
“I could do that, but why don’t you tell me?”
“Ah, no thanks, I assume you have eyes. You can do it yourself.” You mumbled, “What I can tell you, is that you have the wrong number.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah, no shit. It happens, though. Take it easy.” You huffed, hanging up.
You went to walk to the front door, but your telephone started to ring again, you turned on the soles of your feet, starting your journey back to your previous spot.
“He wants to play games, fine, I’ll play.” You gritted your teeth, picking up the bulky phone again.
“Hello?”
“I’m sorry, I guess I dialed the wrong number.”
It was the same guy.
“And you dialed it again, because?” Your attitude rises with each word you speak.
“To apologize.”
Smooth…
“Okay, you’re forgiven, bye..” You sighed about to hang up again.
“Wait, wait, don’t hang up!” He quickly spoke.
“What is it?”
“I want to talk to you.”
You smiled, your mood drifting from annoyed to intrigued. You are somewhat enjoying this now, but you didn’t know why. Maybe it had something to do with his voice; it was attractive and husky sounding, almost hoarse. Voices like that always had you in a chokehold, the gruffness could and would send you spiraling, maybe that is why Steve was able to charm you so easily.
“They’ve got over 500 numbers for that.” You chuckled, “But I’m honored you chose this house to annoy… but I really should be going now.” You fibbed, hanging up.
You walked to the front door to make sure it was locked, thankfully it was.
Your basic horror-movie instincts kicking in.
Peaking through the eyehole, you looked around to see if anyone was dawdling around.
Ring… ring, ring…
There’s that damn phone again.
You headed back to the landline, brushing your hair out of your face, and placed the object against your ear for what seemed like the millionth time.
“Hello.”
“Why don’t you want to talk to me?” He sounded upset.
‘Does this guy ever let up?’ You asked yourself.
“Alright, who is this?” You nagged.
“Tell me your name, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“I don’t think so.” You unraveled the phone’s cord, walking towards the fridge, opening it and grabbing a bag of chips, which made a crinkling sound.
“What’s that noise?”
“Oh, sorry, I was grabbing chips.” You giggled, not meaning to apologize to a complete stranger about grabbing chips, it was a dumb thing to apologize for.
“Chips? I only ever eat chips during a movie…” He prolonged the word movie, making it last longer than it should.
“Huh, maybe I should put one on…” You said out loud, insinuating that it was a good idea, it’s not like you will be sleeping tonight, anyways. You had a 6 hour nap today, hence why you woke up so late. You’d probably still be sleeping right now if this strange person hadn’t called you.
You debated whether you should or not watch a movie, but decided that you would in the long run.
“Really? What movie?”
“I’m thinking of a scary movie.”
“You like scary movies?”
“Uh-huh..” You smirked, biting the tail end of your thumb nail.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?”
“Halloween… easily. Something about a tall-masked man that stalks his prey, almost like a game of cat and mouse, turns me on..” You blubbered, the smirk never leaving your face.
…Silence…
“I’d watch that over a good porno any day.” You admitted, inadvertently getting yourself turned on, Michael Myers, was easily someone you’d try to escape just by fucking him; in your rules of Fight, Flight or Fuck, you’d go with fuck, even if it got you killed for trying.
It’s a peculiar thought and probably something you should get help with; especially if it involves wanting to fuck a slasher of all things, but no one needs to know, well, minus that this complete stranger now knows it.
The person on the other end was completely flustered and not expecting what you had said, usually his victims fall prey to these little games, and he finds out more about them during the process, making it easier to get into their home. However, with you, despite already knowing you, he didn’t know that…
You’re a slasher-fucker.
“Hello?” You spoke, bringing the unknown male back to reality.
“Really now?” He sounded flabbergasted, “Do you usually tell strangers this fact about yourself?” He teased.
You laughed, “No, I don’t actually. You’re the first, not even my best friend knows that dark fact about me.. Billy he’s—“ You stopped yourself, not meaning to blurt out his name, what if this was the killer?
You coughed awkwardly into your hand, changing the subject. “What’s your favourite scary movie?”
“Guess…” He taunted, but his head was elsewhere, ‘Huh, so I know something about (Y/n) that Billy doesn’t…’ He grinned behind his mask, feeling a bit of triumph.
“Umm, A Nightmare on Elm Street?” You uttered in his ear, bringing him back with the lull of your voice.
“Is that the one where the guy has knives for fingers?”
“Yeah, Freddy Krueger.” You gleamed, another Slasher you’d like to get your hands on as sick as you are, too bad he was also fiction.
“Freddy, that's right. I liked that movie, it was scary.”
“Really? I didn’t find it that scary.”
“So, you got a boyfriend?” He asked, changing topics. “Or is it just Michael Myers you’d love to have?” He rambled, a hint of lust hanging off a thread in his words. He was enjoying this too much, the fact that you’re probably just as twisted as him was enough to send his mind into the gutters, God, did he ever want to feel your cunt around his shaft; just knowing you’d probably let him fuck you because he’s a masked killer was giving him another hard one. He couldn’t help but reach under his cloak and start rubbing one out as he watched you from a distance.
You giggled again, completely enamored. “Why? You wanna ask me on a date?” You taunted, bending over the counter again, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. Your silk-black night gown, riding up your thigh, revealing more of your skin and your pink undergarments during your movement.
Unbeknownst to you, this caused the Watcher to struggle.
“Maybe. S-So, do you have a boyfriend?” He stuttered, not meaning to, as the pressure of his gloved hand shifted up and down faster and faster. It felt too good, and your voice was edging him on, getting him closer to his summit.
The cloaked figure rutted into his hand as his hot seed filled his palm. ‘F-fuck…’ he thought, jerking his hips as he finished his climax.
“Mm, no.”
“You never told me your name.” He grumbled, cleaning himself up, tucking his dick back into his pants.
“Why do you wanna know my name so bad?” You questioned,
“‘Cause I want to know who I’m looking at.”
You froze, becoming spooked. You gulped, “W-What did you say?”
You waited for him to speak, but all that was heard was silence, “Hello—“
You were cut off mid sentence by your doorbell ringing and you snapped your head up in that direction, you hung up immediately.
You placed the phone face down on the counter, walking over to your door. You looked out the peephole, seeing that no one was there.
Swiftly, you unlocked your door, hesitantly opening it, poking your head out, trying to get a better look outside, but all that was there was your car and a few stray animals scattering about.
You stepped out, but your foot had hit something. You jumped back, looking down.
There was a pink-coloured box with a red ribbon tied around it and a note.
You quirked a brow, picking it up. It was on the heavier side, but not completely.
You walked back to the kitchen gently placing it down on the counter next to your phone, carefully taking the note off and reading it out loud;
“You look so pretty when you’re spooked, especially in that little-black nightgown you’re wearing right now…” You gasped, your legs beginning to tremble in fear as your hands shook, but you roughed it out, wanting to finish the rest of the note, soon fearing the worst. “I brought you a little something from your ‘boyfriend’ Steve… Signed, G.F.”
“What… What the fuck?” You grimaced, putting the note beside you.
Gulping, you ripped the ribbon off and opened the box. Only for it to reveal another medium-sized box, you took that out, placing it outside of the other one.
You were quick to notice the red-splotches and felt the wetness of it. You shakily opened a drawer, and took out a kitchen knife, and cut the box open.
Your eyes widened as tears glossed over them, you dropped the knife to the ground and it cladded with the tiles as it seemed to have bounced in slow motion. You cupped your mouth, wanting to scream, but nothing came out, just silent whimpers as you looked at the human heart that laid in the box.
The phone rang again, causing you to twitch at the sudden sound.
You didn’t bring it to your ear this time, but you still heard that voice loud and clear.
“I hope you like your gift, (Y/n).”
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#fanfiction#billy loomis#billy loomis x female reader#billy x you x stu#scream franchise#scream 1996#billy loomis x reader#billy x stu#stu macher x female reader#stu macher#ghostface x female reader#ghostface#stu x reader#billy loomis smut#stu macher smut
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[Image ID: A page from the Reigen manga. Panel 1: Reigen stands in a forest looking exhausted. He says, “At least I bought bug spray this time . . .” Panel 2: He sprays himself down. Panel 3: A closeup of his face. He’s dripping with sweat and his eyes are sunken. He says, “Preparations complete.” Panel 4: Reigen loosens his tie as he staggers towards the viewer. His face is sweaty and he has a haggard expression. He says, “All right then . . .” End ID.]
Okay listen it’s been a month since i read this and i CANNOT stop thinking about “At least I bought bug spray this time. . .” It’s just. It’s so Reigen.
This man is dying. He is being eaten alive by a curse that will kill him in less than 3 hours--probably closer to 2 by this point because this place is pretty far outside of Seasoning City. Since Serizawa couldn’t destroy the curse, he knows that Mob is the only person who could get rid of it--and he doesn’t think that he’ll get there in time, if he comes at all. Reigen’s last-ditch plan is to try to trudge into the most haunted forbidden evil woods he knows about in the hope that he can make the curse that’s killing him fight a different, worse curse, and if that doesn’t work at least he’ll die in a place far away from other people and the curse will be prevented from victimizing anyone else.
And what does he say when he arrives at the Evil Death Woods? “At least I brought bug spray.”
One of the things that makes Reigen’s character work is that he is Just Some Guy. A deeply bewildering, paradoxical guy who lies for a living, but still just a guy. Different characters in MP100 are trying to exist in slightly different genres, and for all his absurdity Reigen is the character who is the most grounded in the real world. He worries about his fire insurance during a psychic terrorist attack. He’s the one who goes “Hey, this is illegal?” and “Kids should not be dealing with this” and “You’re supposed to be adults, what is your PROBLEM?” when he’s introduced to the shonen-anime-villain Scars.
And he’s the sort of person who thinks, yeah, dying of a horrible curse in the woods would be bad, but you know what would be worse? That and bug bites. And he’s not . . . wrong, but it’s not something that anyone else in the series is going to think of. It’s such a normal worry in such an abnormal situation. It’s so grounded.
And it’s also . . . weirdly hopeful? I feel like a lot of people talk about this part of the manga like Reigen’s given up and is just marching to his death, but he really isn’t. Yes, he was willing to take on the curse to save Tome, and he’s well aware that he might die, but he’s still trying to get out of it with everything he’s got. He doesn’t have powers, but he’s really clever! He goes into a place with a time distortion effect in the hope that it will buy him more time! He manipulates the curse into turning around so that it gets attacked by the Mimic spirit but he doesn’t! If it had been a more even match between them like he’d hoped, he might have been able to get out of the woods even without Mob coming to save him.
He’s aware of the danger and how much the odds are stacked against him, but he hasn’t given up! And the bug spray feels indicative of this. He thinks he might succeed in getting rid of the curse. He thinks he might need to get out of the woods on his own. And if that happens, he’s going to be so happy about not getting covered in bug bites this time.
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