content: angst/comfort, self sabotage, !!NOT CANONICALLY ACCURATE TO THE MANGA/ANIME!!, curse au, questionable backstory, smut with plot, eventual smut, reader lowk has social anxiety, avoidant reader!!!, slow burn, friends with benefits, reader has no excperience, virginity loss, masturbation, oral sex, blow job, smoking, drugs, no one is perfect, slow burn again because it is that deep, kirara is a friend, highschool- age gap (reader: 18- hakari: 19/20), little use of name insert, p in v, protective man, kinji hakari is big (everywhere), eventual time jump, yuji, megumi and nobara are 17-18 too.
kinji hakari and kirara hoshi were known as the inseperable duo. partners in crime. two bestfriends like peas in a pod. but as their third year in jujutsu high rolled in, the second and first classes started showing up more frequently.
escpecially you, the new first year, sweet and pretty you.
🃁 🂡 🂱 🃑
”you think she’s hot?” kirara asks hakari and he shrugs. You were standing a few feet away, talking with some second class students after training, fiddeling with the hem of your short, pink skirt.
”she’ cute,” he answers looking at how you bend over to pick up your bag, not missing the way your skirt lifted with your motion, flowing with the wind, dangerously close to expose flesh that should be much more hidden from hungry eyes. he laughs. “she’s got a nice ass though.”
kirara scoffs annoyed, looking away.
“you should go, talk to her then.” she mumbles
“nah, you know I don’t like making new friends,” he smiles, focusing on the girl next to him now.
“I’ve got you, right?” kirara nods, “and you’re more than a handfull,” she giggles at his teasing, hitting his arm playfully.
but as his eyes drift away from the girl besides him, and back to you, he notices the way your eyes slightly flutter over to his too, your bright, bambi eyes meeting with his narrow, dark ones.
your cheeks immediately burn, flustered, red blush already creeping up from your neck. looking away just as quickly, almost with a little twitch.
you knew he was a third year, which made him that much more intimidating. not to forget hearing the second years speaking about his unrational and delinquent acts around the school together with his good friend.
kinji hakari, a boy you knew to avoid. but could you really do that?
and what about if you can’t?
how will your future look like, come one now, did you really think it be that easy, that he would stay with you forever, in that school?
well, what happens when he doesn’t? where does that leave you?
chapters:
1. she’s selfish & bratty. she’s all alone
2. spotless mind
3. you’re obsessed, just let it go
4. weed always on my mind, now he’s always on my mind
5. baking in the oven…
6. -||-
7. -||-
more…?…maybe
a/n: I was originally going to post this on ao3,
bradpittloverxoxo hehe ( ˶˘ ³˘),
but I was like not feeling it at all, plus I have this cognitive thing where I always imagine that fanfics on ao3 should be like 50 chapters
and this is not giving that…
anywaysss, first tumblr post, kinda nervous (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
hope you enjoy this lil’ mini series, also rhe timelines are supppperrrr blurryyyy, not canonically accurate at all please don’t be mean!!
…if you want more work I have a toji story on ao3, still working on it but it’s coming!!!
defiance masterlist | king!sukuna x servant!reader
summary: a psychic shares her vision with the king, saying that his soulmate would replace all 5 of his concubines one day. he had her banned from the premises for that absurd prediction. it wasn't until months later when he started believing the old bitch, after one cute yet disobedient servant started working at the shrine.
TL;DR: sukuna's a sorcerer in this one, still ooc but not too much. mc pretty much ran away from home for being a hoe, and went to work at sukuna's shrine lol.
genre: female reader, heian era au, 18+, grumpy x sunshine, fluff, smut, crack, angst, no he wont have two sets of arms, and no he wont have two dicks, i'm really sorry
fic warnings: profanity, explicit smut, graphic depictions of violence, death, pregnancy, war
wc: 106k (complete)
side stories: delicate
Ko-fi link for those who are feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️
One: Did I give you permission?
Two: Flower festival
Three: The King of Curses
Four: Temper
Five: Depraved
Six: My Little Dove
Seven: Counting the Rings Inside of the Willow Tree
Summary: Working as Wasuke Itadori's personal assistant wasn't all that bad. You got paid well, the hours were reasonable, he wasn't a complete asshole like most CEO's were. But there was a catch, and it came in the form of his charismatic son that trouble always seemed to follow. Or maybe he was the problem?
Just don't say you weren't warned about him.
genre: modern au, 18+, forbidden romance (?), smut, angst, fluff, crack & all that good stuff
warnings: explicit smut, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of drug and alcohol use, profanity, mentions of blood and violence, attempted violence towards reader, sukuna brought a knife to the function (non sexual), explicit smut, cunnilingus, marathon sex, rough sex, overstimulation, mentions of whipping, degradation, creampie, spit kink, a couple threats here and there, use of sex toys, narcissistic parental abuse, terminal illness, death/loss of a parent, slight mention of body obsession, toxic family dynamics, masochism, slightly toxic relationship
wc: 89.5k (on going)
Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️
playlist
prologue
one: menace
two: attack dog
three: casino royale part one
four: casino royale part two
five: never again
six: i like the way you kiss me
seven: tamed
eight: failed attempts
nine: the only gift
ten: new year, same man
eleven: slow dancing in a burning room
twelve: make it work
thirteen: the sun part one
fourteen: the sun part two
fifteen: i can save us
sixteen: sweet little lies
seventeen: ceaseless
eighteen: that’s slander!
nineteen: surrender
twenty: passing the torch
head canons
mini dive on sukuna & readers relationship (ch. 16+)
notes: i will be doing a taglist for the first chapter of this cute lil romance story! so lmk if you'd like to be added to that <3 it should be coming out sometime within the next month
synopsis: Sukuna doesn’t fall for people,he wins them, then gets bored. Frat king, reckless, used to easy victories, he notices you because you’re different,too quiet, too soft, too unaware of how pretty you actually are. So he turns it into a game,slipping into your days, earning your trust, getting you comfortable… until getting you is easy. And when he finally does, he leaves like he always does.
Only this time,you don’t chase. You don’t fight. You just… disappear,And for the first time, Sukuna realizes—he’s not done with you.Even if you’re done with him.
So will he learn to live with it… or do whatever it takes to make it right?
Wc: 5k!
Warnings: Sukuna is CRUEL, sukuna being a typical fratboy,reader insecurity, suggestive ,ANGST, sukuna gets close then leaves, reader catching feelings implied, heartbreak, ghosting behaviour, confrontation scene, soft reader, avoidance, Sukuna being verbally mean. Sukuna has unknown feelings which he realises late.
The music was loud enough to feel before it could be heard.
It pulsed through the walls, through the floorboards, through the cheap plastic cups stacked along the kitchen counter. The music bled into everything, turning voices into fragments, laughter disappeared as quickly as they came. The frat house was already too full, bodies packed,heat clinging to skin, alcohol thick in the air.
And somewhere in the middle of it,
Sukuna stood like he belonged to it.
He wasn't lost in it...ever.
Part of it in a way that felt… intentional.
His back rested against the kitchen counter, one hand loosely wrapped around a bottle he hadn’t bothered to set down, the other braced behind him as people moved around without asking for space. They adjusted instead. Leaned away, curved around him, made room without thinking.
It had always been like that.
Effortless.
There was a girl pressed close to his side, laughing at something he’d said a minute ago or maybe a few. Her hand slid up his arm, fingers tracing over the ink that disappeared beneath the sleeve of his shirt, lingering there like she expected him to react.
He didn’t.
Not like he needed to.
He glanced at her, just enough to acknowledge her presence, the corner of his mouth lifting into that familiar, sharp-edged smirk that gave people exactly what they wanted without offering anything real.
“You’re not even listening to me,” she complained, though there was no real irritation in it.
You’re not even listening to me,” she complained, though there was no real irritation in it.
“I was,” he said, voice low, unconcerned.
“You weren’t.”
“Then say it again.”
She laughed, like that was charming.
Like that was enough.
It usually was.This was routine to him.
Upstairs, the air was marginally cooler, though not by much. The hallway lights flickered faintly, music muffled just enough to feel distant but never gone. A door slammed somewhere. Someone stumbled into the wall, laughing too hard at nothing.
Sukuna pushed into his room without knocking, not checking if anyone else was inside.
There was. Of course there was.
Another girl. Different face. Same expectation.
She looked up when he entered, already smiling, already shifting toward him like she knew how this would go. Like they all did.
There was no conversation that mattered.
No questions.
Just the familiar rhythm of something that started and ended without leaving anything behind.
For Sukuna, it was less about desire and more about habit.
A way to pass time.
A way to fill space.
A way to keep things exactly as they were, temporary, controlled, forgettable.
By the time he stepped back out into the hallway again, pulling his shirt back on with one hand, he had already moved on.
To him...nothing stayed long enough to matter.
By the time morning came, the house had quieted into something almost unrecognizable.
The aftermath of chaos. Empty cups scattered across surfaces, the faint smell of alcohol soaked into furniture, doors left half-open, bodies passed out in places they wouldn’t remember ending up in.
Sukuna stepped over someone asleep on the couch without looking down, grabbing his keys from the counter as he moved toward the door.
Rarely ever hungover, just another day to him
Campus in the late morning felt like a different world entirely.
Sunlight cut cleanly through the space between buildings, students moving in steady streams, conversations softer, more contained.
Sukuna fit into it just as easily.
Like he hadn’t been somewhere else entirely just hours before.
He walked through the courtyard with that same loose, unbothered posture, hands tucked into his pockets, gaze moving without really settling. A few people greeted him as he passed. He acknowledged some, ignored others. It didn’t make a difference.
Sukuna was bored of people easily.
And then—
His eyes caught something … or someone,
You were sitting at the far edge of the courtyard, where the noise softened into something manageable.
His steps didn’t stop but his eyes did stop as he looked at you.
You weren’t there in a hidden way,
Just… in your own space?
There were people around you, but not close enough to intrude. A small pocket of quiet in the middle of everything else. You sat beside Shoko, angled slightly toward her, your attention fixed entirely on whatever she was saying.
You weren’t trying to be interesting.
That was the first thing he noticed.
No exaggerated reactions, no careful awareness of who might be watching, no subtle adjustments meant to draw attention. You just stayed in your space.
Your hands were wrapped around a cup, fingers absently tracing the rim. Your posture was smaller than it needed to be, shoulders drawn in slightly, like you were used to taking up less space without thinking about it.
And your face—
Sukuna’s gaze lingered there a second longer.
Pretty.
Not in the way that demanded a reaction,or in the way that made people look and know immediately.
But in a way that settled in quietly.
The kind people noticed after a moment,then couldn’t quite stop noticing.
You were laughing at something that shoko said, just naturally not in a practiced way.
Sukuna didn’t realize he had slowed until someone bumped into his shoulder.
“Watch it,” they muttered, already moving past.
He barely registered it.
Because he was still looking at you.
Not with hunger just yet,something else which was sharper in a way that had him drawn to you,it was new.
“Don’t,” Shoko’s voice cut in, suddenly closer than he expected.
He hadn’t noticed her approach.
Sukuna shifted his gaze to her, one brow lifting slightly in question.
“I didn’t say anything,” he replied.
“You don’t have to.” She said with a humourless serious expression.
Sukuna glanced back at you, still sitting exactly where you had been, still unaware of the way his attention had fixed on you.
A slow, almost lazy smile pulled at his mouth.Interested.
“Yeah?” he murmured.
Shoko didn’t respond.
Because the look in his eyes had already answered her.
Across the courtyard, you shifted slightly in your seat, adjusting your grip on your cup, completely unaware of the way something had just… begun.
And sukuna didn’t look away for once.
Then it started , not even intentional, at first.
Just a thought that lingered a second longer than it should have.
Sukuna didn’t usually do repetition.
That was one of the few unspoken rules he followed without thinking about it. Faces changed, places blurred, nights overlapped into something indistinct. Nothing held his attention long enough to become routine.
And yet,
Three days after he saw you first time,
He noticed you again.
You were sitting in the same lecture hall as him.
You were already there when he walked in, head slightly tilted down, pen moving steadily across your notebook, in your own space. People were still settling, chairs scraping, conversations overlapping, but none of it seemed to touch you.
You didn’t look up when he entered,didn’t notice him,till he walked up to your seat and took a seat next to you.
Your hand stilled mid-sentence, your gaze lifting just enough to register him in your periphery before turning fully.
“…Hi,” you said,quietly.
He leaned back slightly in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, like this was the most natural decision he could have made.
“You always this early?” he asked.
You blinked.
“I like being on time”
“That’s boring.”
Your brows pulled together just slightly. “It’s practical.”
He huffed out a short breath that almost resembled a laugh.
“You actually care about this stuff?”
“I have to pass.”
“People pass without caring.”
You looked at him for a second longer this time, like you were trying to figure out if he was being serious.
“Then they’re lucky”, is all you said before turning to your notes.
And just like that,
You dismissed him.
Just… naturally.
__
It should’ve ended there,as a brief interruption. A passing interaction. Forgettable.
That’s always how it was with him.
People entered, overlapped for a while, and then dissolved into the blur of everything else.
But this—
This didn’t dissolve.
After that day, it was like Sukuna had quietly, deliberately woven himself into the fabric of your routine.
Not in a way that could be pointed out and named.
Just… consistently.
You’d step out of class and find him leaning against the wall across the hallway, phone in hand, looking up just as you walked past like he’d been there longer than necessary.
The next day, he’d fall into step beside you without asking, matching your pace like it was instinct rather than choice.
In the library, the chair across from you stopped being empty.
Then it stopped being surprising.You didn’t notice when it shifted.Not exactly.
There wasn’t a moment you could trace back to and say this is where it changed.
It happened somewhere between shared silences and small conversations, between him interrupting your focus and you no longer minding it.
Somewhere between—
“…you always write this much?” he asked once, glancing at your notebook, pages filled edge to edge.
“I have small handwriting,” you muttered, not looking up.
“That’s not small, that’s obsessive.”
“It’s efficient.”
He leaned closer, just enough to scan a line.
“You even organize your notes. Colors and everything.”
“It helps me remember.”
“Or you just like things neat.”
“…What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” he said, straightening slightly. “Just means you’re predictable.”
That made you pause.
Your pen hovered mid-air before you finally looked at him.
“I’m not predictable.”
He smirked, slow and knowing.
“You sit in the same seat every class.”
“That’s habit.”
“You order the same coffee.”
“That’s preference.”
“You reread your notes twice before closing your book.”
“…That’s called studying.”
His smirk deepened, like he’d proven something.
You frowned at him, but there was no real irritation behind it.
“Why are you even paying attention to all that?”
There it was.The question.
Unassuming.
But it landed somewhere deeper than it should have.
Sukuna held your gaze for a second too long.
And just said……”nothing better to do.”
You didn’t question it.
You should have.
But you didn’t
__
You found yourself smiling more when he was around, even when you didn’t mean to.
Laughing at things you probably wouldn’t have found funny before.
Saying things without overthinking them first, words slipping out before you could measure them, filter them, decide if they were worth saying at all.
And he noticed.
Of course he did.
He noticed everything about you in a way no one else ever had.
The way your voice softened when you got comfortable mid-conversation.
The way you looked at him when you were trying to understand something he said, brows slightly drawn together, completely focused.
The way you forgot yourself sometimes,
And just… existed.
“Say that again,” he said one afternoon, leaning back in his chair.
You looked up from your notes. “What?”
“What you just said.”
“I didn’t say anything important.”
“You laughed.”
Your lips pressed together immediately, like you were trying to take it back.
“I always laugh.”
“Not like that.”
You frowned. “Like what?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Just watched you.
Then, quieter—
“Like you forgot to hold it in.”
Something warm crept up your neck before you could stop it.
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“It does.”
You shook your head quickly, looking away.
“It doesn’t “
But your smile lingered.
After that, it stopped feeling like effort.
You were just… there. In the hallway, in the library, somewhere on campus where he didn’t have to look too hard. It became routine without ever being named as one. Your presence slipped into his days quietly, until it no longer felt like something he chose, but something that simply existed.
___
There was a part that unsettled him.
Not you.
Not the closeness.
But the way it lingered even when you weren’t there.
The way his attention didn’t shift as easily as it used to. The way moments with you stayed sharper than everything else, clearer, harder to blur into nothing like he was used to.
It didn’t fit into anything he understood.
So he refused to understand it.
Pushed it down. Flattened it into something simpler, something familiar, something he could control.
It didn’t matter to Sukuna.
Not when he had a goal in mind.
__
The party had already tipped past control by the time Sukuna started paying attention to anything.
___
Music thudded through the walls, heavy bass rattling the staircase, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder like the house was built to hold less than half of them. Someone had spilled something sticky near the kitchen, people stepped through it anyway. Laughter rose in bursts, cut through by shouting, by someone calling for another round that no one needed.
Upstairs, the balcony overlooked all of it.
And Sukuna stood there like he owned it.
One arm hooked lazily over the railing, a drink in his hand he hadn’t finished, half-listening to Gojo talking absolute nonsense beside him while a couple of girls hovered a little too close.
“—I’m telling you,” Gojo was saying, grinning like he always did, “if you had just listened to me—”
“I didn’t,” Sukuna cut in flatly, not even looking at him.
Gojo snorted. “Yeah, obviously.”
From the other side, Toji leaned back against the wall, watching the crowd below with the kind of disinterest that only meant he was noticing everything.
“Boring night,” he muttered.
Sukuna almost agreed.Almost.
Then his gaze shifted.
And stopped.
You.
It clicked instantly this time.
Not gradually or subtly.
Immediate.
The dress.
Tight enough to matter.
Soft enough to look like it wasn’t meant for a place like this.
Shorter than anything he’d seen you in before,way shorter,and it showed in the way you carried yourself. Not confident, not practiced. You kept adjusting it without thinking, fingers brushing the hem, shoulders pulling in just slightly like you were still figuring out how to exist in it.
Like you hadn’t worn it for this.
Like you didn’t know what it did.
Sukuna’s smirk came easy.
Slow and certain.
“Well, that’s new,” Gojo said suddenly, following his line of sight. “Didn’t know your type came to parties.”
Sukuna didn’t answer.Didn’t need to.
Toji huffed quietly. “She looks like she’s gonna leave in ten minutes.”
“Not tonight,” Sukuna said, already pushing off the railing.
That was all.
Decision made.
Downstairs, the air hit warmer, heavier, the noise louder the second he stepped back into it. People moved out of his way without thinking, someone called his name, someone grabbed his arm,he shrugged it off without breaking stride.
His focus didn’t shift.
You didn’t see him until he was already there.
Close enough that the space around you felt… different.
You turned,
And your expression changed the second you recognized him.
That softness again with that ease.
Sukuna stopped in front of you, gaze dropping immediately.Slow.
“…You’re full of surprises.”
Your fingers brushed your dress again, instinctively.
“I just-tried something different.”
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, amused, “figured.”
You hesitated under his gaze, but you didn’t shrink. Didn’t step back.
You stayed exactly where you were.
“Shoko make you wear that?” he asked.
Your brows pulled together slightly. “No.”
“Then what?decided to switch it up?”
“…Something like that.”
He leaned a little closer.
Not enough to trap you.
Just enough.
“Looks better on you than the whole quiet act.”
That caught you off guard.
Your lips parted slightly. “I’m not—”
“You are,” he cut in, not harsh, just certain. “Just don’t notice it.”
Heat crept up your neck.
But you didn’t argue.
Didn’t deflect.
You just looked at him.
“…Do you think it’s too much?” you asked, quieter now, almost like you weren’t sure why you were asking him at all.
Sukuna’s eyes flickered,just for a second.Then his smirk deepened.
“Nah,” he said, taking the cup from your hand like it was his to take, fingers brushing yours without pause. “Think you’re just not used to people looking.”
Your breath caught.
“People aren’t—”
“They are.”
You didn’t finish your sentence or look around to check.You just… believed him.
He set your drink aside without asking.
Your hand stayed suspended in the air for a second before dropping.
“Relax,” he added, quieter now, eyes still on you. “You look like you’re trying not to.”
“I’m not,” you said, but it came out softer than you meant.
He huffed a quiet laugh.
“Yeah, you are.”
There was a pause.
Not empty.
Just… close.
And then
His hand found your wrist.
His grip was not rough but firm.
“Come on.”
This time, you didn’t ask where but you knew because you felt it in the way he said it.In the way he was looking at you.
In the way the space between you had already changed.
Your fingers tightened slightly before you let him pull you forward.
You didn't resist it,just went along with it.
Upstairs, the music dulled into something distant, the noise fading behind you with every step. The hallway stretched quieter, dimly lit, the air cooler,but it didn’t settle anything.
If anything, it made everything clearer.You were aware now of where you were going,of what this was.Your steps slowed for half a second not to stop but just enough to take it in.
Sukuna noticed.
He glanced back at you, something sharper in his gaze now,not questioning, not checking but registering.
You didn’t pull your hand away or step back.
You met his eyes for a second and they didn’t look uncertain which was all he needed.
Inside his room, the door shut behind you with a quiet click.
The sound landed heavier than it should have.
The shift was immediate.
No noise. No distractions.
Just the two of you,and everything that had been building.
You exhaled softly, your hand brushing down the side of your dress again, smoothing it without thinking.
But this time,you didn’t look away.
Sukuna stepped closer.Slow and measured.
His hand came up to your waist again, firmer this time, pulling you in until there wasn’t space left to hesitate in. The fabric of your dress shifted under his grip, your breath catching as your hands came up to him,not unsure now, just… instinctive.
There was no teasing left or any need for it.
His hand moved higher, slower now, like he was taking his time for once,not out of care, but because he could. Because you weren’t pulling away. Because you were right there, letting him.
Your grip tightened in his shirt.Your breath unsteady.
And when he leaned in, his lips on yours, melting.
you didn’t hesitate.
Everything after that blurred into heat and closeness.The kind that built fast once it started.
Your back meeting the wall for a second, then the bed, the space shifting under you as the dress you’d been so aware of earlier became something in the way more than anything else.
Fabric pulled, pushed aside, slipping out of place under impatient hands.
His skin on yours.
Your breathing broke first.
Then steadied into something else entirely.
Sukuna didn’t slow down or stop to think.
Didn’t question the way this felt slightly different from everything else because to him—
it wasn’t.
It was exactly what he’d expected.
Exactly what he’d decided.
And he moved through it like he always did, like it would end the same way it always did.
___
The Morning came.
The room didn’t feel like the night before.
What had been loud and close and overwhelming was now still, the air cooler, thinner somehow. Light slipped in through the curtains in soft lines, cutting across the bed, across the floor, across you.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Sukuna was already awake.
Not fully out of bed, not rushing, just… there. Sitting at the edge, leaning forward slightly, phone in hand, scrolling without really looking.
Like he’d already stepped out of whatever last night had been.
You stirred behind him slowly.
The shift in the sheets, the quiet sound of movement,
He noticed. But he didn’t turn immediately.
“…You’re up early,” you said, voice softer than usual, still carrying the weight of sleep.
He hummed, noncommittal.
“Yeah.”
You pushed yourself up slightly, the sheets gathering around you, your eyes adjusting to the light, to the room, to him.
“Are you leaving?” you asked after a pause.
Not accusing....Just unsure.
Sukuna glanced back then, brief, almost distracted.
“Got stuff.”
That was it,you nodded like that made sense.
Like you weren’t expecting anything more.
The silence stretched for a moment after that.
He stood, pulling his shirt on without much thought, movements easy, familiar, like this was routine.
You watched him quietly, trying to take him in.
Trying to understand something you couldn’t quite name yet.
“You have class today?” you asked, quieter now.
“Maybe.”
A small pause.
Then—
“…I do.”
He didn’t respond to that or ask when and where. Perhaps, that was the first shift
So small it could’ve been ignored.
But it stayed.
By the time he left, it felt like the room had changed again.
Not empty.
Just… different.
You stayed a little longer.
Not because you had to.
Because leaving felt like acknowledging something you weren’t ready to name yet.
___
On campus, everything moved like it always did.
Classes filled. Conversations overlapped. People passed by without looking twice.
Nothing had changed.
Except what had.
You noticed it first in the lecture hall ,the seat beside yours, empty.
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything,he didn’t always come early or come at all.
Still—
You found yourself glancing at the door.
Once...Then again.
He came in late.Of course he did like always.
But this time,he didn’t sit beside you.He took a seat further back.Didn’t look your way or acknowledge you.
Your fingers tightened slightly around your pen.
You told yourself—
It didn’t mean anything.
It kept happening.
In the hallway, you’d catch a glimpse of him,surrounded, laughing, moving through people the way he always did.
Effortless.
But not with you.
In the library, the chair across from you stayed empty.
Days passed like that.
And slowly,
That quiet, unspoken shift turned into something harder to ignore.
Because he wasn’t gone, he was just not there with you anymore
And Sukuna—
Sukuna didn’t think about it.
Not really.
Not when he was drinking again, laughter loud, someone pressed close to his side.
Not when the nights blurred back into something easy, familiar, forgettable.
It was back to normal.Exactly how it should be.
And yet—
There were moments.
Small ones.
A pause in the middle of a conversation when something didn’t feel as interesting as it should.
A glance toward a space before realizing why he was looking.
A flicker of recognition that didn’t settle into anything he could name.
It didn’t make sense or matter.So he ignored it.
Because whatever that was,it wasn’t enough to mean anything...just yet.
___
At first, it was easy to explain.
He didn’t sit beside you in class-fine. He was never consistent.He didn’t come to the library-fine. He never liked it anyway.He didn’t walk with you after lectures-fine.
It was all fine.
You told yourself that enough times that it almost sounded true.
But the problem was that it didn't feel the same.
Once, you caught his eye in the hallway.Just for a second.
And something in your chest lifted before you could stop it—
But he didn’t slow.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t even acknowledge it.
Like it hadn’t happened.
That stayed longer than it should have.
You started leaving the library earlier.
Stopped sitting in the same place sometimes.
Changed your routes between classes without thinking too much about why.
It didn’t help. Because it wasn't about the place to begin with.
Shoko noticed but she didn't say much.
Just watched you a little more carefully, her expression tightening every time Sukuna’s name came up around you,even when it wasn’t directed at you.
___
And then—
there was another party,one you almost didn’t go,but staying in felt worse.So you did.
The music hit the second you stepped inside, loud and overwhelming, the same chaos as before,but this time, it didn’t feel unfamiliar.
It felt...distant.
You spotted him quickly.You always did.
He was cross the room.Surrounded.
A girl leaned into him, laughing at something he said, her hand resting too comfortably against his chest. Another stood close enough that their shoulders brushed every time he moved.
He didn’t push them away or look uncomfortable.
Didn’t look like anything had changed.
He looked exactly the same.
Your chest tightened, something sharp and quiet settling in your throat, making it hard to breathe properly.
You stood there longer than you should have.
Watching.
Waiting for something.
A glance,anything at all,but nothing came.
before you could stop yourself,you moved.
The crowd blurred as you pushed through it, your steps faster than you meant them to be, your thoughts louder than the music around you.
He noticed you before you reached him, ofcourse.
His eyes flicked to you briefly.Then stayed.The girl beside him said something.
He didn’t respond immediately.
Because now,you were standing in front of him.
Too close.Too exposed.
“What are you doing?” you asked.Your voice was quiet.
But it didn’t shake.
Not yet.
His brows lifted slightly.Not confused.Just… mildly surprised.
“What does it look like?”
You swallowed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
A pause.
The noise around you felt distant now.
Like everything had pulled back just enough to leave the two of you standing there.
“Then what did you mean?” he asked, tone lazy, almost bored.
You hesitated.
For the first time since you’d walked up to him.
“I mean—” you started, then stopped, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been… avoiding me.”
The word sat there.Between you.
He exhaled slowly, like the conversation had already tired him.
“I’ve been busy.”
“That’s not true.”
That slipped out before you could stop it.
Something in his expression shifted.Not much but just enough.
You pushed forward anyway.
Because now you couldn’t stop.
“You were there,” you said, quieter now, but more certain. “Before. You used to—”
You cut yourself off.
Used to what?
He watched you struggle to finish the sentence.
And something about that,
made his mouth curve.
“Used to what?” he prompted.
Your chest tightened.
“I just thought—”
You stopped again.
Because you didn’t know how to say it.
And he knew that.
He stepped closer.
Not gently.
Not harshly.
Just enough to take control of the space again.
“You didn’t let it get to your head, did you?”
The words landed softly.
Too softly.
You blinked.
“What?”
His expression didn’t change.
Still that same, easy, almost amused look.
“That night,” he said, like it meant nothing. “You’re not still thinking about that, right?”
Your stomach dropped.
“I—no, I just—”
“Good.”
He cut you off before you could finish.
Because then,
he leaned in slightly.
Just enough that only you could hear it.
“You’re not all that.”
It wasn’t loud.Wasn’t harsh.Wasn’t even said with anger.
Just,dismissive.
Like he was correcting something small.
Like you had misunderstood your place.
And that-
....that hurt more.
Your expression didn’t break immediately.
That was the worst part.
It happened slowly.
The way your eyes lost something first.
Then the way your lips parted, like you were about to say something,and couldn’t.
The way the words just… stopped.
Sukuna saw it.Saw exactly what he’d done.
And for a second,
something unfamiliar flickered in his chest.
Sharp and Uncomfortable, but he ignored it.
Because this,
this was how it was supposed to go.
You nodded,looking small.
“…Okay.”
Your voice was quiet.
Flat.
And then,you stepped back.
Not rushing or running but just leaving.
And this time,he watched you go.
Not because he wanted to...but because he couldn’t look away.
This is what he always did, what he always wanted, what was normal to him,
So what was this feeling creeping up in his chest as he watched you leave?
note: I don’t know if this turned out how i wanted , please let me know if you like it, then I’ll continue with the next parts, after this i NEED to post some fluffy sukuna drabble soon AGHH.
Also let me know if you’d like to be tagged when or if another part is released😋
✮ cw/tags: pwp, smut, drunk sex, one night stands (or is it?), coworkers to lovers, NOT EDITED WHOOPS #imrushing to go see the csm movie rn
✮ a/n: i know one of you is very happy to see this. WELLLL AS PROMISED (though ik im late), here is the first installment of the kinktober series (which lowkey may turn into NNN too hehe). this has been absolutely gruesome to right and took me soooo long... @mrshayakawaa, this is our baby. i couldn't have done it without you. ITS NOT EDITED because I realllllly wanted to get this out before I went to go see the new CSM movie so!!! enjoy!!! i'll prob come back and edit it later #sorrynotsorry. hope this makes up for my absence a bittttt x
(ok idk why it wont save the spaces i made between scenes but wtv i give up cuz im running late! i'll fix tn)
✮ wc: 24k
THE MISSION WAS far more tedious than you had planned for. It was an out-of-town mission, too. Some housekeeping that the Kyoto sector apparently was too understaffed to handle. Between the blood, the guts, and the fact that the damned devil exploded and gave birth to what had to have been hundreds of mini devils, it was… well, it was shit. Utterly exhausted by the day’s events, you and your division sat in complete silence the whole car ride over to the hotel.
You sat in the backseat of your supervisor’s car, crammed between Denji and Power (who were, as always, bickering over something stupid), head pressed up against the window to cool down. You were beyond tired, yes, but your mind refused to settle down, and it wasn’t a result of the mission.
In the driver’s seat, Lieutenant Captain Hayakawa – your partner and supervisor – gripped the steering wheel like he owned it. Two big, strong hands wrapped around it, tilted it to the side to follow a curve in the road – for a moment, your eyes betrayed you, following the intricate scars on his skin, the veins on the backside of his hand. On his right hand, which sat atop the wheel, a gash was healing. It was something small, something you probably shouldn’t have noticed, but that was just the thing.
There were a lot of things about him you’d begun to notice lately. The two of you had been partners for quite some time. It hadn’t always been smooth sailing, but the two of you got along fairly well. For the most part, anyway.
He wasn’t easy to ruffle, but when you did manage it – when your teasing hit just the right nerve, or when his calm, responsible act cracked for just a second – you felt victorious. He’d shoot back with some sharp remark, you’d bicker like siblings, and eventually, it would settle into that comfortable rhythm the two of you seemed to share.
But lately… something had shifted.
You told yourself it was stupid, that you were only noticing him this way because of his hair – longer now, tied back in that neat band, that stupid ponytail attracting your gaze far too often. Or maybe it was the fact that you’d been in a dry spell for months, and your mind was starved for any excuse to wander. Yeah. That had to be it.
Or maybe, just maybe, he was simply getting finer with age. No longer was he the broody, short-haired 19 year old you’d been paired with. Now, he was taller, shoulders broader, muscles a little more pronounced. And you… well, you weren’t blind.
And yet, the thought didn’t stick.
Because the image of him standing between you and that thing – unflinching, steady – played over and over in your head like a broken reel. The sharp swing of his blade, the exact way his shoulders squared, the rise and fall of his calm, precise breathing. That look in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before – focused, unshakable, like nothing in the world could touch him.
He hadn’t faltered. Not even for a second.
The chill of that moment hadn’t left your skin. If he hadn’t been there… if he hadn’t moved in front of you without hesitation, you wouldn’t have been leaning against this car window. Hell, you wouldn’t have been there at all.
He had saved your life.
The car finally rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, the soft hiss of the brakes jolting you out of the half-daze you’d fallen into. You blinked against the neon glow of Kyoto’s streets, the night pressing heavy and damp against the glass.
When the trunk popped, you climbed out with the others, dragging your legs like they weighed double what they should. Denji and Power shoved past each other, bickering about who was grabbing which bag, and you muttered something under your breath before reaching in to snag your own. The straps cut into your palms, the weight pulling you forward, and you nearly bumped shoulders with Aki as he pulled his suitcase free with practiced ease.
You didn’t look at him directly – not really – but you felt him there, just a little too close, quiet as always. The memory of his blade cutting through the dark flashed in your mind again, sharp as glass. You swallowed hard and told yourself not to think about it, not to think about him.
The automatic doors opened with a soft rush of cool air, and you followed behind your supervisor, the marble floor clicking beneath your boots. The lobby was bright, polished, almost too clean compared to the day you’d just had. You were still stuck replaying that moment when you overheard the conversation Aki was having with the receptionist.
“Sorry,” the desk clerk said, polite but firm, eyes flicking up from his computer. “We don’t have any reservations under that name.”
“Fuck, I never actually called, did I?” The young captain groaned, dropping his head against the surface of the counter. “Of course I fucking didn’t,” Then, raising his head up and pinching the bridge of his nose, he added, “Do you… uh… do you have any other rooms available?”
Himeno stepped forward from where she was standing, folding her arms over the counter and leaning forward as if she, too, were desperate to find anything, at this point in the evening.
A minute passed. An agonizing minute, filled with nothing but the sound of keys clicking. Then, the desk clerk pursed his lips. “Okay, yeah, we have some availability. Two rooms. I can do one with two full beds and a pullout, and one queen suite.”
“Is that all you have?” Aki sighed, clearly unsatisfied.
Before he could add anything more, Himeno interjected, “We’ll take it.”
Aki whipped his head around, glaring daggers into her head. “That won’t be enough room for all of us. Someone’s gonna have to share a bed.”
Himeno shrugged. “Two of us take the queen. Three of us take the double beds and the couch, and we should be good,” She paused, then added, “What’s our other option? Keep walking around ‘til we find somewhere to crash? Our phones are dead, Aki. You saw the situation. There’s nothing out here for a while. Suck it up.”
Good point.
“Fine,” Aki sighed, “We’ll take the rooms.”
“Fine,” Aki exhaled, resignation in the sound. “We’ll take the rooms.”
The clerk clicked around, tapped a few keys, then slid two plastic key cards across the counter with a tired smile. Himeno snatched one without hesitation.
“Oh, and I’m not sharing a bed,” she said breezily, already turning toward the elevators. “I’ll crash with the two dipshits. You’re with her.”
Your heart sank straight through the floor.
No…
“You’re joking,” Aki muttered, twirling the key around his finger like it might burn him. But Himeno didn’t even glance back – her laugh trailed behind her as she disappeared down the hall with Denji and Power.
That left you and him.
Don’t leave me alone with him, Himeno.
You tried to swallow the sudden tightness in your throat. “I’m… sure there’s a couch I can crash on. Normally, the rooms have one,” you murmured as the two of you headed toward the second elevator.
Aki pressed the up button with two fingers. “Bullshit. Like I’m letting you sleep on the couch.”
Ugh. You and your damn chivalry, you thought. Of course he wouldn’t.
Still, that wouldn’t stop you from trying.
He’d sooner suffer himself than allow you any discomfort. That was the kind of man he was, and the kind of man you found so frustratingly hard to be around. Because it made your chest tighten. It made you feel seen when you didn’t… want to be.
The elevator dinged softly, the doors parting with a slow drag. You both stepped inside, the air-conditioning in the lift almost too cold against your sweat-dampened skin. Your reflection flickered faintly in the brushed steel walls, your nerves painted across your face.
“Really, I don’t mind the couch,” you tried again as the doors sealed shut, the world outside cut off with a faint hiss. “Aki, you need rest. I’m fine, really.”
His gaze shifted toward you then, just for a second, before returning to the glowing floor numbers above. “And what kind of man would I be if I let that happen? You’re my partner.” His tone carried the weight of finality, but softer underneath, reluctant. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Your chest ached, a quiet ache you buried quickly before it could show.
The elevator slowed, jolted, and the doors creaked open onto your floor. The carpet muffled your steps as you trailed behind him, your pulse strangely loud in your ears. Aki slid the key into the lock and scanned it, the red light flicking to green with a soft beep.
You held your breath as he pushed the door open.
The room was… a setup. Clearly meant for lovers, not two co-workers stuck out of town after a bloody mission. The bedspread was pristine, two towel swans perched neatly on the duvet, their necks curved into the shape of a heart. The curtains were drawn just enough to reveal a wide city view – lights glittering against the darkness, neon signs bleeding colors into the night.
You blinked, stunned into silence.
Aki dropped his gaze to the room, his frown deepening. “No couch.”
Shit.
You turned slowly, scanning again as if one might magically appear if you looked hard enough. “…I guess not.” You pointed toward the tray left neatly on the counter. “They gave us a bottle of Merlot and the room service number, though. I’ll be nice and buzzed on the floor.”
That earned you a quiet sigh. He let his bag slide from his shoulder and hit the carpet with a dull thud. “I’m showering first. I feel like shit.”
Okay. Tough crowd.
You nodded quickly, anything to avoid meeting his eyes. “Go ahead.”
He didn’t say anything else. Just grabbed the handle of his bag and tugged it closer to the bathroom door before shutting himself inside. The sound of running water followed almost immediately, steady and muffled behind the wall.
You exhaled slowly, as if you’d been holding your breath since Himeno’s declaration downstairs. Your fingers busied themselves unpacking little things, laying them neatly on the counter by the TV: a mini first aid kit, lotion, the spare change of clothes you’d stuffed haphazardly in your bag. You lined them up like the order would keep you grounded, like if everything looked neat on the outside, your insides would stop feeling so messy.
The city lights spilled across the room in fractured patterns, a reminder of how far from home you were, how detached this moment felt. Just you. Just him. One bed.
You glanced toward the bathroom door, steam already beginning to cloud the edges of the mirror on the wall.
What were you supposed to do now?
The room was quiet enough that you could hear the faint hum of the vent, the deeper rush of water from behind the bathroom door. The steady stream of the shower should have been soothing. Instead, it only made you more aware of him. Aki. Just a wall away.
You turned toward the window, if only to distract yourself.
The curtains had been drawn to showcase the view, and it was a view worth pausing for. The city stretched out, streets glittering with headlights that streaked past in ribbons of red and white. Neon signs pulsed against the dark, broken occasionally by taller silhouettes of glass and steel. In the reflection, your face stared back, smudged with exhaustion, softened by the glow.
The rain was starting again. It hadn’t been more than a drizzle when you left the car, but now it pressed harder against the glass, the drops forming streaks that blurred the city lights into watercolor.
You leaned your forehead gently against the cool pane, closing your eyes.
One bed.
The thought circled back, unrelenting.
Of all the possible arrangements, of all of the ways things could’ve worked out, of course this was how it had to be. You cursed Himeno in your head, though some part of you knew she hadn’t done it entirely by accident. She liked to push, to prod, to stir things that might otherwise stay buried. And maybe she thought she was being clever, pairing you off, giving you an opportunity you’d never take yourself.
But she didn’t have to live in the skin of it. She didn’t have to sit with this tightness in her chest, the nervous awareness of every little detail: the sound of running water, the fact that Aki was right there…
You shifted away from the window, arms crossing over your chest. No use getting lost in that.
The steam was starting to seep from the bathroom, curling faintly at the corners of the mirror across the room. It fogged the edges, warping your reflection into something unrecognizable. You hated that it mirrored how you felt – blurry, muddled, not quite yourself.
You tried to focus on anything else. The ridiculous towel swans perched on the duvet, their curved necks touching in a heart. The unopened bottle of Merlot left with two glasses, like the hotel was mocking you. The silence of the room beyond the muffled water, pressing in so thick it almost had weight.
Your thoughts spun out in too many directions. What if he insisted again about the bed? What if he argued until you had no choice but to give in? What if you woke in the middle of the night, both of you too aware of the other’s presence? The possibilities all ended in the same place – your heart racing, your chest aching, your mind refusing to quiet.
You rubbed your hands down your face, frustrated with yourself.
It was just one night. People shared rooms all the time. It didn’t mean anything. You could survive this without losing your composure.
But then you thought of him again. His voice was low, steady, even when he was irritated. His eyes were sharp but softened by exhaustion. The image of his shoulders tense beneath his coat as he’d argued with Himeno, fighting for something as simple as more space, as if even that was his responsibility to shoulder.
You pressed your palm against the cool glass once more, grounding yourself.
It didn’t matter. You wouldn’t let it matter.
Still, when the water shut off, your body went rigid. The silence that followed was even heavier than before, broken only by the faint scuff of feet against tile. The bathroom door clicked open, and a wave of steam spilled into the room.
Instead of looking back (like the more perverted part of you desperately wanted to), you kept your eyes out the window, trained on the view and definitely not the blurry reflection of his shadow in the window. The rain beat down against the clear panes, cooling your head.
“It’s coming down hard out there now,” You huffed out, breath fogging the glass. “Himeno was right. We would have been out there with no gas in the rain.”
The sound of a bag rustling behind you beckoned your attention. When you turned around, there he was, all six-feet-three-inches of your partner. He was damn near naked, wearing nothing more than a towel around his waist. His chest was bare, and you couldn’t peel your eyes away – again, you weren’t blind. The guy was fucking chiseled, well-defined muscles lining his scarred frame, and you observed him with a strange sort of hunger. Your eyes focused on a droplet of water that trickled down the swell of his broad chest, dripped down his abs and disappeared below the towel around his waist.
Holy fucking shit.
Aki scooped his damp, dark hair into the palm of his hand, slicking it back and out of his pretty face. “Bathroom’s all yours.”
You swallowed, licked your lips, and maybe it was just your hormones talking, but the temperature in the room seemed to climb a couple of notches. “Right,” You cleared your throat, peeling your eyes away from him. “Thanks.”
You weren’t looking. No, you definitely weren’t looking, which is why it was so strange that your mouth felt like it had been stuffed full of fucking cotton.
Instead of unpacking what that was about, you plucked one of the neatly folded robes off of the bed and tossed it over your shoulder, casting your gaze to the carpeted floor and walking past him.
You closed the bathroom door quietly behind you, like you were scared to disrupt him, to make any sort of noise that indicated you were feeling any differently than you had been a few months prior, before these thoughts of yours had started.
The second you twisted the knob, steam filled the little space, curling against the mirror until it blurred your reflection into nothing. You stepped beneath the spray and tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the first rush of hot water slammed over you. It was almost too hot, almost painful, but that was what you wanted… something to burn away the grime and tension of the mission.
When you reached up to work the shampoo into your hair, a faint pink tint swirled down with the suds. You stilled, fingers pausing at your scalp, and watched as the water carried it away, diluted it, spun it into nothing more than a whisper of red before it vanished into the drain. Blood. Leftover, clinging to you from earlier, soaked deep into strands and hidden against your scalp.
The sight should not have unnerved you. It was part of the job. Every devil left some piece of itself behind. But standing there, watching the water run red, it felt… different than your post mission showers normally did.
And, no, it wasn’t the hotel shampoo.
You thought of Aki again, the way he had stepped in front of you without hesitation when things went bad, the way his blade had cut through air and gore like it was second nature. The way he always put himself in the line first, as if his body were nothing more than a shield for the rest of you to hide behind.
Always the hero, even at the cost of his own life.
You pressed your fingers into your scalp, scrubbing until it stung. If you could just get clean – if you could just make the blood go away – maybe you could stop thinking about him like that. But even when the water finally ran clear, even when you had rinsed it all away, his face lingered, carved sharp in your mind.
Because he was perfect. The fact of the matter was that he was everything you could have wanted in a man. The fact that you couldn’t have him – even just a taste of him – pained you.
Gently, you lathered up your breasts, being sure to clean your nipple piercings with care. They weren’t new, not by any stretch – about three years old, in fact – but they were sensitive. Himeno had dared you to do them on a whim, and you had lost a bet.
You finished quickly, moving through the rest of your routine in a haze. Soap, conditioner, rinse. By the time you shut off the water, your skin was flushed pink from heat and your lungs felt heavy with steam.
Okay. This is normal.
It’s not like we’re naked, we just… don’t have pajamas.
Yeah. That’s it.
You towelled yourself dry in silence, dragging lotion across your arms and legs in deliberate strokes, like the ritual itself might anchor you back into your own body. Then you shrugged into the robe hanging on the back of the door and cinched it tight, tying the belt in a knot you didn’t trust your shaking hands to undo anytime soon.
When you finally stepped out, the hotel room was dim, shadows softened by the glow of the city bleeding in through the windows.
You spotted him instantly. Aki was outside, on the balcony, leaning against the railing, a cigarette caught between two fingers. The robe he wore hung loosely off his shoulders, the fabric belted low on his hips.
Be strong. You froze for a second too long, breath hitching before you forced yourself forward.
He’s off limits.
Crossing the room, you passed behind him on your way to the balcony. And, no, you didn’t gawk. You absolutely did not let your eyes linger on the broad line of his back, the muscles shifting beneath the robe when he lifted his arm to take another drag. You didn’t think about how solid he looked, how steady, how everything about him seemed carved out of something like stone, and fuck…
You kept your eyes forward. Definitely.
Still, your pulse fluttered like it hadn’t gotten the memo.
“I’m done,” you said softly as you slid the glass door open, stepping into the night air beside him.
Aki exhaled a plume of smoke, eyes tracking the storm beyond the balcony. “I was beginning to think you died in there,” he murmured, voice even, almost indifferent.
“Shut up,” You sighed. “You’ve only got so much hair to wash.”
It was colder out there, for sure, but you could feel the warmth radiating off of him in waves, and that was more than enough for you. You joined him, leaning against the balcony like you weren’t ogling him only a minute prior. Your eyes dropped down to the calm city streets below, to the gentle movement of traffic.
“Just think. Somewhere in this hotel, Himeno and Denji are probably wrangling Power into the bathtub,” You commented, nudging his shoulder with yours.
I’m trying really hard to not focus on how strange this is.
He huffed out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Never thought about it that way.”
A gust of wind blew in from below, gently moving his hair. He looked prettier with it down, if that were even possible. It felt as if – the moment that damned ponytail came up, it was all strict business. Now, when it was just the two of you out there where no one else could see you, away from the devils, the city, all of it, the air felt thicker. He looked younger, calmer, and the dark strands framed his face like it was intentional.
He took your breath away.
“I think I’m so used to the chaos of their company that I almost… forgot what it felt like to not have to deal with it,” He added after a beat. His eyes flickered between a neighboring building and your face, sapphire pools catching the light of the moon just right.
“She’s doing you a favor, believe me,” You said, clapping a hand down on your partner’s shoulder. “What do you say we crack open that bottle of wine and relax inside?”
He sighed again, shoulders dropping with the weight of it, “God, I could use a drink.”
He moved quickly after that, stubbing his cigarette out on the railing and flicking it out over the balcony. The two of you stepped inside of the room, closing the sliding door once you were indoors.
Unceremoniously, you opened your arms and flopped onto the bed. The mattress was plush, soft, sinking beneath your weight. Fumbling around the nightstand, you reached for the TV remote and flicked it on.
In front of you, you heard the soft twist of metal against glass. Aki worked the cork out with steady hands, the faint pop sounding far louder than it should in the quiet. He poured with practiced ease, the deep red spilling into two glasses until the room smelled faintly of wine.
He crossed the room and handed you one, his fingers brushing yours for half a second longer than necessary. You clinked them together with a small grin.
“Think they got any good movies on here?” you asked, flipping through the bland hotel channel menu, most of it pay-per-view garbage.
Aki settled onto the bed next to you with his own glass. He was a respectable distance away, of course, keeping a foot between the two of you and settling for leaning up against the headboard instead of laying down. There was a clear barrier between your body and his. A line that you weren’t ballsy enough to cross.
Still, it would have been so easy to reach over and…
He took a sip, the lamplight catching the flush of exhaustion still high on his cheekbones.
But your eyes stayed on the flickering TV, because looking too long at him in that quiet, dim-lit room felt… dangerous. He was remarkably beautiful, even now. The kind of pretty that made your heart ache – boyish features weighed down by years of stress, dark hair still damp from the shower, framing his face. From here, you could see the faint quirk in his lip as he grimaced at the taste of the wine.
“Doubt it,” he muttered, completely unaware of your plight. “You’re hard to please.”
When he relaxed against the headboard, slouched over ever-so-slightly, the fabric of his robe shifted over his chest, giving way to a glimpse of more skin. Despite feeling like an amish man, you reeled it in, trying not to stare at him.
Because, shit, you could think of one thing that would please you quite easily.
Don’t be stupid.
A laugh spilled forth from your lips before you could stop it – at his comment, at your thoughts, at the absurdity of this whole entire situation. You wound up clicking on some movie you only vaguely recognized the name of, deciding to hope that it would make a worthwhile distraction. If you kept your eyes on the screen, maybe you wouldn’t have to look at Aki. Maybe then your heart would stop its incessant racing.
“We should make a toast,” You commented, watching the black screen fade into starting credits. You swished the wine around in your glass mindlessly.
Aki didn’t look away from the television screen when he hummed, “Mission’s not finished yet.”
“So what?” You teased. Waving your glass around (rather haphazardly, considering the two of you were lounging on a pearly white bedspread and the wine was very red), you added, “Let’s toast… to… to not dying. How about that? A toast to one more day above ground?”
Shit, in Public Safety, every day above ground was something to toast to.
Aki chuckled tiredly, and it was single-handedly the most attractive thing you’d ever heard in your entire life. Still, he lifted his glass up. “To one more day above ground.”
Your glasses clinked when they met in the middle.
The food tray sat forgotten on the nightstand, a mess of half-eaten fries and skewered bits of chicken scattered like the remains of some small feast. Aki had ordered it without asking, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and you hadn’t argued. Drunk food always tasted better anyway.
Now, though, both your appetites had slowed. He was stretched out beside you on the bed, glass still in hand, his body sinking deeper into the mattress than you’d ever seen. Aki never really relaxed… at least, not around you, not in the way that counted, but tonight there was no mistaking it. His shoulders weren’t taut with tension, his jaw wasn’t set. His robe hung loose, the belt tied without much care, one edge falling open to expose the hard line of his chest.
You caught yourself staring. More than once. Okay, maybe even a handful of times. Hell, you were staring right now.
The wine had flushed his cheeks a soft pink, heat bleeding down his throat, and his eyes, normally so sharp, had softened into something half-lidded. He was drunk, though not nearly as much as you were. You could feel your head spinning slightly when you tried to sit up straighter, so you gave in and leaned back on the pillows instead, laughing at nothing in particular.
“You’re–” You snorted into your glass. “You’re way too composed. It’s not fair.”
Aki gave the wine in his glass a lazy swirl, watching the deep red catch the light. “Trust me. I’m feeling it.”
“Liar,” you shot back, nudging his leg with your knee. The contact lingered, neither of you moving away.
He didn’t answer immediately, just turned his head toward you, and for a moment the air went strangely quiet – just the faint hum of the TV. His gaze lingered long enough that you felt your face warm, though whether it was the alcohol or him, you couldn’t say.
For a moment, you had been able to forget about this whole… situation. You. Him. Two bottles of wine deep, sprawled out on a bed wearing only robes. It was ridiculous, by all means, and far too intimate of a predicament to be in with your supervisor.
Yet, there you were.
And when the screen flickered to another scene in the film
And when the screen flickered to another scene in the film, you blinked up at it – then promptly choked on your sip of wine. Of course. A sex scene. The volume wasn’t even that high, but the moans still filled the room, echoing around the pristine hotel walls, and suddenly it felt like the air had thickened.
You shot Aki a sideways glance, but he was already trying very hard to look anywhere but the TV. His lips pressed together, his jaw tight, like if he didn’t move a muscle the moment would pass unnoticed.
It was so awkward you had to say something. Anything.
“She’s so faking it,” you blurted, gesturing toward the screen with your glass.
That got him. His mouth twitched, and then he snorted softly. “No shit. We’re not watching a porno.”
“You’re acting like girls don’t fake it in the pornos, too,” You giggled softly, “Hell, I’ve faked it before.”
Aki tilted his head, tufts of raven hair falling into his face as he did so. “Why bother?”
“Saves time,” You shrugged noncommittally. Pausing, you took a sip. “And ego.”
“Yours or theirs?” He sighed. In his hand, he swished the glass of wine around. You watched the blood red liquid lap at the sides, never quite daring to spill over. Controlled, just like everything else he did. His blue eyes were hazy, half-lidded, “I think… if I knew a girl had to fake it just to save my ego, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. I’d rather she just tell me it sucked.”
“Happens more often than you’d think,” You noted with a hum. Shifting your weight onto your side, you adjusted your body until you were fully facing him. Until the moans and clatter on the television screen faded into the background. “Most guys don’t even know what the clit is.”
It was too much. Far too much. You had crossed a line. That much was evident in the way Aki, who had just taken a sip of his wine, promptly choked on the liquid.
You probably should have apologized for being so crass in front of your boss. However, given the fact that you were inebriated, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “What? We’re all adults here.”
Great. Just dig the hole deeper, why don’t you?
“God, this is wrong. It’s… it’s completely inappropriate,” Aki rolled onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You and I shouldn’t be in the same room… let alone the same bed. We shouldn’t be drinking, and we sure as hell shouldn’t be talking about anatomy.”
“Probably not,” You laughed. The world seemed to sway a bit when you did. “You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?”
You should probably stop asking him that.
“We should be following protocol,” He added, as if that would stop the onslaught of questions pouring from your mouth. “You should be asleep and I should be over there on the floor. Maybe even the bathtub. As far away from you as a captain should be.”
“You should be answering my question,” You tapped a finger against your glass impatiently. “...Unless you’re a virgin, captain.”
You’re gonna get fired. You thought.
But he didn’t fire you. Instead, he actually humored you.
Talk about how inappropriate that comment was and how theres a moment of silence where she holds her breath cuz she knows its out of pocket, but to her surprise aki answers her.
The words hung between you like smoke, heavier the longer the silence stretched.
Your heart stuttered, realization dawning far too late that you had just crossed a line. A dangerous one. Talking to your superior like that? In a hotel room, half-drunk, in robes? You might as well have signed your resignation letter on the dotted line. You swallowed, fighting the urge to backpedal, waiting for the reprimand, the sharp rebuke – maybe even the cold dismissal.
But none came.
Instead, Aki only looked at you. His eyes flickered briefly over your face, unreadable, the kind of silence that made your chest ache from holding your breath.
Then, slowly, he quirked a brow. “Definitely wouldn’t use that word to describe me,” he said at last, his voice dry, tinged with the faintest thread of humor. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Involuntarily celibate, maybe.”
He’s not a virgin.
You weren’t sure why the confession made you feel so strange. It’s not that you particularly expected him to have held off this long. Hell, he was 22. He was drop-dead gorgeous. You weren’t stupid.
Still, the image of Aki’s lips on another woman’s neck, his hands reaching down beneath her skirt…
Fuck. It confused you. You didn’t know whether you wanted to know more or close your ears and pretend you hadn’t heard any of it.
Still, you supposed you had been the one to breach the subject…
“Ha! I barely even have time to clean with all of this gun devil shit. The last thing I need is to get in bed and have to fake a good time with a guy I barely know,” You laughed aloud. “But you? I’m surprised.”
“About what?” He asked.
“About you being celibate,” You said. “You’re pretty enough. I’m surprised you don’t get more play.”
This whole conversation is ridiculous and should stop.
“It’s not that,” He corrected you, eyes following a crack in the paint on the ceiling. “Believe me when I tell you I’ve gotten more letters from secret admirers in my office mailbox than I’m willing to admit. I’m just not interested.”
You tilted your head, wine loosening your tongue. “You gay?”
His head turned sharply, eyes snapping to you, and the look he gave had you laughing before you could help it. Loud, unrestrained, spilling out of you as though it might cover how reckless that question had been.
And then, suddenly, he moved.
One second you were still laughing, the next his hand was brushing over your shoulder, catching the loose edge of your robe. He tugged it back into place with an uncharacteristic gentleness, straightening the fabric where it had slipped open.
Oh.
You froze.
The laughter died in your throat, leaving only the deafening silence that followed. He didn’t look away this time. His hand lingered just a beat too long on the knot at your waist, and when his eyes finally met yours, steady and unblinking, you forgot how to breathe.
The pause stretched, fragile and thin, and the air between you seemed to shift, thicken, like you were both suddenly too aware of how close you were, of the heat bleeding between you.
And then, just as abruptly, he cleared his throat and pulled back.
“It’s the same way for me,” he said quietly. “I haven’t found anyone worth keeping around. Maybe that’s harsh, I don’t know. Most girls I’ve gone out with have been… painfully boring. That, or they expect me to fall in love with them after one night.”
I hope I don’t bore him, You thought. Truthfully, though, you kept him on his toes enough to know that that simply wasn’t true.
No, you knew you stressed him the fuck out.
“From my experience, it’s usually the guys who can’t keep up a conversation,” You noted. Truthfully, you had carried more dates on your back than you were willing to admit.
“We’re… holding a conversation right now, aren’t we?” He replied.
“Yeah, but you’re different.”
“How so?”
You’re so different, you don’t even know it. You thought. So different, in fact, that you hadn’t been able to look another man in the eyes since your… strange feelings towards Aki started.
Why? Well, because no one compared. No, in every pair of easy eyes, he was there. His ocean blue irises. His stern expression. His deep, commanding voice.
That was exactly the problem. In every man you tried to meet, every time you even tried to get the tension off, he was there.
Your eyes betrayed you, dropping down to the small patch of skin his robe revealed, to the dog tag necklace that rested on his chest.
“I don’t know, we just know each other well. We’re partners,” You waved your hand around in the air. “Maybe you’re just one of those guys who needs to really get to know someone before you feel comfortable around them.”
Aki quirked a perfectly arched brow at your words. “You telling me to fuck a friend?”
I mean, shitttt… You thought. It was depraved, of course, but something about the way the word fuck rolled off his tongue…
Dangerous.
“No, just someone you know,” You replied easily. “And I’m not used to hearing you use such debauched language, Captain. Watch your mouth, please.”
The conversation was breaching uncharted territory. You knew that. But, fuck, you couldn’t help yourself.
“Fuck off. You started it,” He took one final sip of his wine, then set the empty glass on the nightstand. “Plus, I don’t know many people who would want to get that involved with a Public Safety Officer. We’re good for one night stands, and that’s about it. Can’t have anything too permanent.”
“True that,” You stretched with a tired yawn. “We should probably stick to our kind, but that would get messy real fast.”
“Very,” he replied. “That’s Himeno’s thing. Not mine.”
You turned your gaze back to the TV, not sure why you felt compelled to keep talking, to keep spilling. The sex scene was over, the two characters now lying in bed together, but the words kept coming anyway.
“That reminds me,” you said before you could stop yourself, “…I hooked up with this guy once who told me my head was bad.”
Aki arched that perfect brow, his expression deadpan. “He actually said that?”
You’re telling me.
“Yeah. Out loud. It’s always the dudes with trash game, too. Like, when I tell you he was biting me…” You polished off the rest of your own glass in one swig. “And then he had the nerve to tell me I was using too much teeth.”
“That’s audacious,” He uttered, and for a second, the words were just words – but there was a quiet weight to them, like he was thinking too much about it.
A beat of silence followed. The TV flickered, the movie continuing on-screen, but neither of you really watched. You knew it, and he knew it… you were avoiding something, tiptoeing around it in the dim hotel light.
Then, to your surprise, he added more. Lower this time, almost offhand, almost to himself: “I feel like going down on a girl would be easier than giving a blowjob.”
You froze mid-breath, eyes darting to the TV as though it could shield you from the words, but the heat crawling up your neck betrayed you. “…You’ve never gone… down?”
No response.
“…You’re kidding. A guy like you? Never?”
“Don’t start,” he snapped, but not harshly. More like warning you not to pry further. “Most of my escapades have been… rushed.”
Your mind spun. Rushed, sure– but… “You could still give her something,” you murmured, before you could stop yourself. The words slipped out, soft, teasing, almost dangerous.
For a second, he looked at you, and something flickered in his gaze. That rare, unguarded side of him that came out only when you pushed just enough, only when the world outside wasn’t watching.
“Trust me, I do,” He answered, and for a moment, you swore his voice dropped just a notch. You swore you saw his eyes betray him, glancing down at your lips before meeting your gaze again. “But I guess you never know when someone’s faking it, do you?”
The words were enough to make you fucking bristle.
I cannot be imagining this tension.
“A lady shouldn’t have to ask for head,” You retorted.
“You try doing that when you have someone begging you to cut to the chase and give them what they want,” He answered right back. “Doesn’t mean I don’t give them theirs first. It’s all about how you use it.”
Your stomach clenched at the words. Yours first? You swallowed against the sudden heat rising to your cheeks, your mind flickering to images you weren’t supposed to be thinking about. You pictured him above you, the memory – or maybe the fantasy – playing like a private movie behind your eyes, and you felt your pulse spike.
God, you could picture him using it.
Yeah, his words paint a vivid image.
“You seem to have a high turnover rate,” you teased, pushing your words out with more confidence than you felt. “You sure you’re as good as you think?”
The grin that took over his face wasn’t quick. It was slow – perhaps a little tipsy, a subtle expression that graced his lips. Then, teasingly, he retorted, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Whatever,” you muttered to yourself.
It was not whatever.
You shifted, letting your arm stretch toward the nightstand. As you leaned over, your robe shifted just slightly, brushing against your skin in a way that made you hyperaware of him. You checked your phone, pretending that was the only reason for bending like that, but your gaze flicked up just enough to catch the faint trace of his eyes lingering – more than lingering – across your chest. More specifically, at the piercing bumps poking through the fabric.
He’s looking at my nipple piercings.
Before you could stop yourself, words tumbled out: “Do you want to see them?”
He blinked, almost caught off guard. “See what?”
“My piercings,” You added, as if that should have been obvious. (It should have).
Then, voice low and measured, a flicker of amusement in his tone: “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve just… I didn’t even know you could have piercings there.”
Heat pooled, your pulse jumping. You leaned back slightly, letting the robe settle but keeping just enough control to let him know you’d noticed the stare without giving away more than you meant to. The tension between you didn’t dissipate, though. It fucking thickened, charged with something you were a little too drunk to name.
And neither of you was making the slightest effort to stop it.
Oh, fuck it, you only live once.
“Give me your hand,” you said, voice low, teasing, letting the words slip out before your brain could intervene. You didn’t look at him directly, eyes tracing the shadowed corners of the hotel room instead, pretending the TV flicker was what kept your attention. But your chest tightened the moment his gaze flicked toward you.
“No,” he replied immediately, sharp, unyielding. The word sounded like a warning, but it only made your pulse spike.
“Gimme your hand,” you said again, a little firmer, a little bolder.
“This violates protocol. You know that, right?” he said, voice calm but carrying that unmistakable edge that made you bite back a laugh.
“I do,” you admitted, letting your lips curl into a smirk before you moved. Slowly, deliberately, you guided his hand into place – into your robe, letting it brush against your breast, ignoring the rapid beat of your own pulse. The moment his fingers touched your skin, a jolt ran through you, sudden and electric.
But he didn’t pull away.
His hand was gentle at first, almost careful, testing boundaries without crossing them. You felt the warmth radiating from him, the subtle pressure of his fingers against your piercing, his hand hot and warm against your skin. Your nipple stiffened up beneath his touch almost immediately, something you weren’t exactly proud of.
Why is this happening? you thought. It’s not supposed to feel so sensitive.
“Does...” he swallowed softly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, voice laced with a kind of hesitance you rarely saw. “Does it hurt?”
“No…” you trailed off, your voice barely audible, and you found yourself looking at him instead of the TV, even though you knew you shouldn’t. His eyes caught yours, steady, unwavering, and for a moment, everything else – the light, the shadows, the sound of the air conditioner – faded.
And he wouldn’t stop looking at you, peering into your eyes like he was trying to pick you apart piece by piece.
You leaned closer, just slightly, the air between you taut with unspoken electricity. “Can I tell you something?” you murmured.
“Yeah…” he breathed, barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on you with that rare intensity that made your stomach flip.
“I’ve always thought you were… so fucking sexy. You know that?”
There. You said it. And the words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. Your stomach clenched, your chest felt too tight, and for a fleeting second, you wished you could take it back – but you didn’t.
His hand lingered. He hadn’t moved it, hadn’t pulled away, and every second it stayed there sent heat crawling along your skin, your pulse thrumming in rhythm with the dangerous tension between you.
But, then, wordlessly, his thumb caught on your piercing, brushing over your nipple in a way that was anything but accidental.
Oh, God, You shivered slightly, almost involuntarily, and the sound escaped your lips – a soft, shuddering noise you didn’t even realize you’d made.
“Fuck,” He jerked his hand back like he’d been burned, eyes wide and unfocused for a moment, but tinged with hunger. “We shouldn’t… this isn’t…”
“Aki, it’s okay,” you whispered, the words soft, steady, but firm enough to coax him. You leaned a little closer, daring, letting him see the challenge in your eyes, the teasing edge to your tone.
“If you think this is okay, then I have serious concerns about your relationship with authority,” He sighed, shaking his head, almost to himself. “I’m your supervisor.”
“You’re also hard,” you said, barely a murmur, teasing, daring, letting the words brush against the thin veil of propriety between you. As if to emphasize your point, you let your hand drop down to the tent that had begun to form at the front of his robe.
There’s no way this is really happening.
He blinked at you, as if startled by the movement – a little pent up, if anything, but he didn’t pull away. “Two things can be true at once,” he said, voice rougher now.
“I think I like the one poking my leg more,” You grinned. You leaned a little closer again, heart thudding in your chest. “Could I… help you take care of it?” Your voice was soft, but your grin betrayed you.
“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” he said, tone warning, but you could hear the slight catch in his breath. His hand hovered, almost hesitant, over the space between you, and it made the air crackle with anticipation.
You saw it, now. He was just as repressed as you were.
“Has trouble ever looked this good?” you murmured, voice teasing, letting your eyes roam his face just long enough to watch the reaction flicker across his features.
“I don’t think I want Little Miss Trouble to bite my dick off,” he joked. You let out a quiet, breathy laugh.
“I just wasn’t… enthusiastic enough that time,” you murmured, voice low, teasing, but you were already crawling onto your hands and knees, already lowering yourself.
And he let you. He watched you with wide, dilated pupils as you crawled down the bed, nuzzling your head shamelessly into his crotch before looking up at him for approval.
You always had been a horny drunk. Still, you figured you would rather regret it in the morning.
“I’ll be good,” You cooed, “Promise. All you have to do is teach me.”
“We’re just drunk. You’re gonna get us in trouble.” His voice was low, steady, but you caught the catch in it, the way it stuttered just slightly like he didn’t fully believe what he was saying. His hand hovered, not quite touching, caught between restraint and need.
“Only if someone finds out,” you murmured, tilting your head, watching him too closely, savoring the shift in his expression. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He let out a sharp, humorless laugh, running his tongue across his teeth like he needed something to bite down on. His gaze flicked away toward the ceiling before snapping back to you. “Fuck, this is a horrible idea.”
You grinned, emboldened by the fracture in his resolve, and reached for the belt of his robe, fingers brushing over the fabric. You didn’t even get the chance to tug… it was his hand that shot out, gripping your wrist firm enough to stop you.
“Aki–” you started, but then he tugged. Not enough to hurt, just enough to jolt you. Then he sat up, dragging you half with him before letting go and standing.
You fell back against the pillows, wide-eyed, breathless, watching him.
“What…?” you began, but stopped yourself, the words dying when you saw the way he moved. He wasn’t leaving. He was deliberate, slow, fingers working at the knot in the front of his robe.
He came to the side of the bed, looking down at you with a gaze that pinned you in place. His jaw was tight, his chest rising and falling like he’d just fought off a losing battle. And then he spoke, voice rough, controlled, but edged with something dangerous.
“On your knees.”
The command made your stomach flip, heat rushing down your spine.
You blinked at him, lips parting, body already reacting before your mind could catch up. The sheets tangled around your legs as you slid down off the bed, the carpet cool against your knees. When you finally looked up at him, waiting, his hand tightened on the belt, knuckles pale.
“Teach me,” you breathed.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said, softer this time, but no less sharp.
You peered up at him through your lashes, taking a moment to reel it in. He looked even prettier from below.
For a moment, he just looked at you. Then his free hand reached out, fingers sinking into your hair, tugging your head back just slightly until your breath hitched.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you’re ready to put your mouth to use,” He uttered, and the words made you squeeze your thighs together, nails biting into flesh like you needed something to hold onto.
His hand slipped out of your hair to cup your jaw, lift your gaze up. His thumb caressed your mouth, catching on your lower lip to tug it down ever-so-slightly.
A wicked grin crossed your lips as you reached for the belt of his robe, “Sir, yes, sir.”
And this time, as you peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, the fabric loosened under your fingers, parting just enough to tease the shape of what waited beneath.
Fuck, he’s bigger than I thought.
The breath caught in your throat. Awe flickered across your features, chasing away your grin for just a heartbeat as your eyes roamed lower. The sight of him made your stomach clench, a dizzying mix of nerves and hunger flooding your veins. Your hands slid down his stomach, his abs, his v-line, and then his thighs.
His hand lingered against your jaw, thumb still brushing your lip as though daring you to back down. “What’s wrong? Scared?” he teased, low and sharp, like he relished watching you falter.
You blinked up at him. Mama didn’t raise a bitch.
No, you could take him. All… god, what was that, nine inches?
Then, with a sudden bout of unwarranted boldness, you gripped him by the base of his cock, keeping eye contact the whole time.
He huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh, tugging at your lip once more while telling you, “Open your mouth.”
You did exactly that, parting your lips without so much as another thought to make room for the thumb that pushed its way in. On instinct, you flattened your tongue.
“That’s it. Good girl,” He appraised you with a quiet hum. Pushed his thumb in a little deeper, just up against the back of your tongue. “Suck on it.”
Mindlessly, perhaps, you followed his command. You hollowed out your cheeks, sucking the digit into your mouth, coating it in your spit.
“You’re using teeth, pretty, open wider,” He leaned down a bit, staring down at you over the bridge of his nose like you were nothing. “Don’t make me pry it open for you.”
You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t like it – the nicknames, the threat, the condescending look on his face… all of it.
Before you could protest, bite back with some petty retort, he slipped his thumb out and inserted two fingers instead. They were longer – long enough to make you gag when they practically slid down your throat.
“Wrap those lips tighter, you can do better than that,” He tutted gently. He pulled the digits out before pushing them back in. You wrapped your lips a little tighter around them, even as you felt drool spill out the corner of your lips, even as they reached deeper, deeper. “Tongue over your bottom teeth.”
He’s so mean.
The sound that came out of your mouth wasn’t something you were proud of – not quite a gag, not quite a moan, but something in between. Your chin was wet with spit as he slipped his fingers out of your mouth just to plunge them in again.
“Messy already?” He teased, “It’s just my fingers. I thought you wanted me to teach you?”
Cruel, so cruel, even as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, spread the digits open and closed them.
“Use your tongue. Come on, don’t be lazy,” He cooed, “It’s only a taste of what’s coming.”
The digits were heavy on your tongue – heavier when he pressed them down. Still, you obeyed him, hollowing your cheeks and working up a rhythm while you sucked them in and out of your mouth.
“You want some more baby?” he asks as she pulls his fingers out of her mouth
Baby, you thought. Holy fuck, I’m gonna pass out.
You adjusted, following his rhythm, cheeks hollowing, breath warming his skin. There was weight in the way he held you there – not just physical, but in the quiet authority he carried.
“Look at me.”
Your eyes snapped up to meet his. The intensity there nearly undid you; it wasn’t just dominance, but something like restrained hunger, thinly veiled behind composure.
“Don’t look away,” he said softly, almost like a warning.
He drew his hand back slightly, and your instinctive reach toward him made his mouth twitch in approval. Somewhere along the line, that careful control of his slipped. His breath caught, his jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat, you could almost pretend you were sucking on something else.
“Keep going,” he murmured, voice lower now, rougher at the edges. “I didn’t say stop.”
Fuck, yes.
Feeling a little more confident than you probably should have, you sucked the digits in deeper, feeling them touch the back of your throat. The sensation was foreign – if you added up the size of every less-than-impressive man you’d been with, they probably still couldn’t compete. So, it should have come with no surprise that you gagged the moment they went too deep.
“Pathetic,” He tsked, withdrawing his fingers entirely. “If you can’t handle my fingers, then you definitely can’t handle the rest of me.”
To be frank, you weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to impress him, but you did. It wasn’t just about learning. You wanted to prove him wrong – you wanted to do it.
So, naturally, you took the liberty of wrapping your hand around him once more, this time shifting yourself a little closer to him on your knees until your breath fanned out against his warm skin. You glanced up at him, up over the pale scars that marred his muscled skin, up through your lashes like you needed him. Then, slowly – like a cat approaching its prey – you leaned forward.
He quirked a brow, peering down at you like he had all night. Like nothing could phase him.
Well, that is, until you stuck your tongue out and licked a long stripe from the base to his tip, placing a kiss over his slit, keeping eye contact the whole time.
His chest rose. Fell, releasing a sigh.
Then, gruffly, he muttered, “Open your mouth.”
Uncertainly, you opened it.
“Wider,” He added, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”
You did exactly that. In fact, you weren’t the slightest bit ashamed as you parted your lips and stuck your tongue out, eagerly awaiting his command. You felt utterly obscene, in fact, but you had never felt prettier in your entire life than you felt beneath his domineering gaze.
Gripping the base, Aki placed the tip of his dick right on your tongue. For a moment, you just felt the weight of it, but before long, you were licking at it – collecting some of that salty precum onto your tongue and letting it melt into your tastebuds. It was real – a reminder that you weren’t making any of this up.
You flattened your tongue against the tip a few more times, content to lavish it with kitten licks until Aki told you otherwise. You looked up at him through your lashes, feeling as debauched as you were careless. Yet, still, there was something almost religious about the way he looked at you – pupils dilated, lips just slightly parted to make room for a trembling breath, face dusted with a pretty pink hue from your touch and the wine. You had long since abandoned the Catholic church, but, shit…
It was divine.
“That’s it, baby,” He cooed softly, reaching a hand down to tangle it in your hair. “Just the tip, just like that. Pretend it’s like an ice pop.”
It was so damn obscene. To think that such dirty words were pouring from your superior’s mouth and it was all your faultwas enough to have you pressing your thighs together.
You giggled, words slurred against his cock, “Like an ice pop?”
This time, you dared to wrap your lips around it, using the soft skin to tease him – all but making out with his cock. The reaction was instant: Aki whispered out a quiet, “Fuck,” beneath his breath.
It wasn’t loud, not by any means, but it was enough to spur you on. Before long, you were using lips and tongue – licking over the slit, sucking the tip into your mouth just enough for him to be able to feel your lips around him. More of that salty precum dripped out onto your tongue, only making it messier, but you were drunk on the taste of him.
Well, you were drunk, period, but that was besides the point.
Like an ice pop.
Gently, you licked the tip a few more times before sucking it into your mouth – like running your tongue up the shaft of a cold ice pop on a warm Summer day. When more of that sweet goodness melted off the top, dripping down over your fingers, you quickly lapped it up. To be frank, you weren’t sure where these skills were coming from – or if you were even doing it right, but he hadn’t said anything yet, and if the way he was looking at you was any sort of indicator…
“You’re doing such a good job,” He complimented you. “I’m gonna give you more, okay?”
Right, You thought. He was only one inch in.
Then, he was pushing his hips forward ever-so-slightly. Immediately, you felt the stretch of your lips as they tried to wrap around him, the sensation of his cock filling your mouth out like it was meant to stay there forever. Slowly, so slowly, he gave you more of him – more, more, until your eyes began to water. You weren’t proud of the way you gagged like a virgin.
“Take it deeper. All the way, don’t stop,” He breathed out, cupping your jaw and petting you with his thumb. “Take all of it.”
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
Sorry Denji.
You tried, but you found yourself struggling to catch your breath. You’d never been with a man so well endowed before, and it was showing.
“Breathe through your nose,” He added, “Breathe.”
Shutting your eyes to focus, you tried to breathe in. Not through your mouth (obviously), but through your nose. It was a little tricky, but once you got the hang of it, you were good to go.
That is, until he startled you by giving you the rest of him, pushing in all the way until you gagged a second time – louder,too. Loud enough to echo.
Stop embarrassing yourself.
To your surprise, however, Aki didn’t seem to mind. No, if anything, he seemed to enjoy it. The thumb that had just been petting your cheek was now wiping the tears away from your eye. “You choking already?” He hummed at you. “You asked for this, remember? Eyes up.”
His words were starting to get to you. He was stern on the battlefield, so you supposed you should have known he would be stern in the bedroom, but, still. There was just something about hearing pure sin coming from his mouth that made your core boil with desire, heat pooling deep in your gut.
“Eyes on me,” He reiterated. This time, you listened, craning your neck back a bit so you could peer up at him through half-lidded eyes. The task proved to be quite difficult. “Don’t you dare look away.”
For a moment, the two of you sat there, eyes locked, you didn’t move. Neither did he. There was nothing beyond this – beyond you and him, exploring each other’s bodies for the first time while a movie played on low on the TV. Nothing more than the way he was fucking looking at you – like you were everything. Hair loose in his face, eyes hazy with lust – It was enough to fill your stomach with butterflies.
You needed to please him.
“Don’t just sit there,” The faintest hint of a smirk graced his lips, “You can move.”
It was much easier before he had his dick shoved down your throat. But, still, like always, you wanted to try for him. Gently, not wanting to gag hard enough to puke, you moved your head back, then forth. Back, then forth again until you found a rhythm. You were struggling to fit all of him, but fuck, you were so turned on that your head was spinning. The look on his face was something you would have paid to see.
All the while, you maintained eye contact with him.
“That’s it, just like that,” He egged you on, and, fuck, the words carried you through the motions, tickled your fancy just fucking right.
You started slow, easing into it, careful not to rush. There had been a tremor beneath your skin, that mix of nerves and want that made your breath catch in the back of your throat. You pulled back, then pushed forward again, testing the rhythm until it settled into something steady, something that made your pulse thrum harder against your ribs.
Every movement drew a reaction out of him – quiet, subtle, but enough. The sharp inhale when you shifted just right. The slight tightening at his jaw. The way his gaze never faltered, locked on you like he was memorizing every second. It made your stomach twist, heat rising fast, dizzying.
You had looked up at him and stayed there, your eyes locked with his. There had been no room to hide in that stare. It pinned you, rooted you in place, and somehow pushed you forward all at once. He looked wrecked already, undone in a way that made your chest ache.
“Shit,” he breathed, low and deliberate, like he knew exactly what his voice did to you. The sound of it rolled through you, smooth and unhurried, coaxing you to keep going. So you did. You found your rhythm again – back, forth, back – and the air between you tightened, humming with something neither of you said aloud. Every time you sucked him back into your mouth, you went lower, lower.
It was the way he watched you that undid you most of all. Not the praise, not the tension – just that look.
Once you got the hang of it, you felt like a pro. The weight of him, the taste of him, the scent of the hotel’s bodywash still clinging to his skin – you tried committing all of it to memory. Tomorrow, this would all be a mistake, but right now?
Oh, it was anything but.
“Fuck, you got it,” He cooed breathlessly. You sped up just a little – hollowed your cheeks and created some suction while your tongue worked around him – and his head rolled back, exposing the column of his neck.
Before you knew it, Aki’s hand was gripping your hair by the end, wrapping it around his fist until he had it pulled taut in his fist. Then, once he had you, he began meeting you in the middle – thrusting his hips up just enough to slip in a little deeper.
Feeling another gag coming on, you reached for his thighs, digging your nails into them for support. One hand smoothed up over his hip, his v-line, trying to put some distance between you and him. He pulled your hand away before you could succeed, gripping you by the wrist.
He looked down at you. “Keep your hands down,” he commanded. “You don’t need them.”
It hurt. It hurt so good. Your lips were stretched around his cock, which kept on hitting the back of your throat over and over again. Your gagging did not seem to deter him whatsoever, and neither did the tears that streamed down your face while he fucked your mouth.
No, he reached down and wiped a tear away, breathing, “You know, I always thought you’d look better with your mouth full. Crying on it…” Then, leaning down just enough to taunt you, he added, “Fuckin’ perfect.”
He thinks I’m perfect.
While you were busy letting your face warm (and your core grow wetter) at the compliment, you hadn’t realized that you were getting lazy, teeth unintentionally grazing his shaft.
Immediately, you felt the hand in your hair tighten. Aki pulled your head back until he was out of your mouth entirely. Until you were craning your head up to look at him. A string of spit connected your lips to the head of his dick. Above you, the muscles in his forearm flexed – something you shamelessly noticed.
“What happened to being good, hm?” He asked. Then, adjusting his grip on your hair, he added, “Watch your teeth.”
As the seconds ticked by, you only grew more desperate – desperate to please him, desperate to make him cum. It wasn’t that you were growing tired (though, admittedly, your jaw hurt. Just… not enough to make you care).
Besides, those fucking sounds he was making. He was getting closer. You could tell – something about the way his breath shuddered every time you fit him all the way into your mouth, being sure to mind your teeth.
The two of you were working in perfect synchrony. You were sucking him off like your life depended on it, and he was spewing more of that filth from his mouth that drove you fucking crazy.
“Look at you,” He moaned gently, “‘S like you were fucking made for it. Feels good, having your mouth fucked, hm?”
Your response was a gurgle – something between a moan and “yes”. He grinned down at you like he couldn’t have been more fucking proud.
“Keep going,” he murmured, voice rough with something between restraint and satisfaction. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”
You blinked up at him, flushed, breath uneven.
He chuckled low. “You like being told what to do, don’t you?”
A small sound escaped you – half breath, half… something.
“That’s what I thought,” he said quietly. “You listen well with your mouth full of me. I should’ve done this sooner.”
You looked down at his abs, trying to quell the burning in your face, but there was no use.
His thumb brushed your chin, tilting your face up. “Keep it right there. Don’t hide from me.”
Another beat. His voice dropped to a near whisper, a smirk audible in it. “If only you obeyed orders this well out on the field.”
He wrapped your hair around his fist tighter – tight enough to make your eyes fucking water. Then, he was encouraging your movements, bobbing your head back and forth to his liking. At some point, it got hard to keep up, so you simply relaxed your jaw and let him use you however he pleased. Like you were made to take it.
There was drool seeping out of the corner of your lips, dripping down your chin. You didn’t care, and neither did he. For a while, the two of you were lost in song – in the symphony of hushed moans, pants, and the faint ‘gluck’ sound your throat made every time he thrust in.
It felt degrading. It felt humiliating, letting your captain use your mouth like a fucktoy, but you were so fucking into it. It felt like you were getting sucked off instead of him – every time you pressed your thighs together, you could feel the warmth coiling up your core, the jolt of pleasure shooting through your clit every time he whined out your name.
You let the tears stream down your cheeks freely, since he seemed to enjoy seeing them so much. In response, he reached down and wiped them away. You followed his hand as he brought it up to his face, to his lips…
Then his tongue as he eagerly lapped up your tears.
God, he’s the fucking devil.
As you looked up at him, you saw a man on the brink of shattering – saw the way his eyes fluttered open and shut, lips parted around a gasp as he stared down at the mess you were making all over his cock. Over the tearstained mess you had become.
“Shit,” He hissed, “You don’t even need my help.”
You flicked your tongue over the head of his dick. He whimpered, swaying slightly, like he was struggling to hold on.
Then, he broke.
“God– Fuck, I’m close,” he admitted, brows drawn together like it took everything he had to not finish right then and there.
He pulled out, popping his cock out of your mouth and leaving you high and dry while he wrapped a large hand around it. You admired him from below for a moment – admired the way his muscles shifted, tensed, pulled taut with pleasure while he stroked himself languidly. The veins in his hand were more prominent now, and fuck– it was like something straight out of the pornos.
He gave some special attention to the head, stroking and twisting until he was gasping. As much as you enjoyed the sight (which was a lot, and you told yourself you would tuck this one into your spank bank), you really wanted a mouthful of his kids, so you pulled his hands away and sucked him right back into your mouth.
“Shit– ah,” He panted out, replacing his hand in your hair and letting you go to work. “You want it– hah– that badly? You fucking need it?” The words dripped from his lips like fucking honey, but his voice was shaking, a notch deeper than you ever remembered it being.
Yes, you thought. Give me all of it.
I need it.
Aki licked his lips slowly, like a predator watching its prey. “Take it, baby, it’s all yours,” His lashes fluttered shut. “Shit, I think ‘m gonna cum–” He whimpered, tightening his grip, tensing up. “Fuck–”
The only thing better than the sound of him cumming was the taste of it. Bitter, salty, but real. Much sweeter than any other man you’d ever been with (though there had been very few). The warmth hit your tongue in thick spurts, coating your tongue, the inside of your mouth – filling you up until it dripped out of the corner.
And still, you swallowed all of it.
You needed to please him.
The two of you took a moment to regain your senses, to catch your breath. Now that your mouth was empty, you gasped for air – greedily sucking it down like a fish out of water. You didn’t even notice that you had gotten some of it on your face.
At least, not until you felt Aki’s hand slide down to cup your face again, swiping the cum onto his finger. He looked down at you with the sort of breathlessness you only saw in movies – like he truly was on another planet.
Then, he tugged your lip down, smearing some of his juices onto your lower lip. Without thinking twice, you leaned forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you sucked his thumb into your mouth. You cleaned it off with your tongue like an obedient, good girl.
Not a drop to waste.
“Let me see. You swallow all of it?” He asked.
In response, you opened wide and stuck your tongue out, letting him see just how much of it you’d swallowed. Then, you grinned – breathless and debauched, with kiss-swollen lips.
His thumb caressed your cheek gently, like you were made of porcelain. So, when he brought the hand down against the skin, slapping it light enough that it didn’t hurt, but just enough to make you choke on a moan.
“Good girl,” He panted, “Good fucking girl.”
Oh my god.
“You..” Your chest heaved as you struggled to breathe, “You’re fucking nasty, captain.”
“Yeah?” He grinned, reaching down and helping you to your (wobbly) feet. Then, before you could retort, he wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you in close so that he could press his lips up to yours.
Your eyes widened. Is he really about to kiss me when I just swallowed his jizz?
He was. And he didn’t seem to give a damn about it. He maneuvered your head into an angle, licking at your lips for entry, and you wouldn’t dare to refuse him entry. So, there the two of you were, kissing – no, practically shoving your tongues down each other’s throats like a bunch of horny teens – while his fingers dug into your neck.
Maybe I’m lightheaded, you thought, But I think I’ll be able to die happy after this.
He guided you back, movements sure but not cruel, until the back of your knees met the edge of the bed. Then, he braced his hand on your chest and practically shoved you onto the mattress. You landed with a soft gasp, half dazed, staring up at him.
“What are you doing?” you breathed, voice almost lost.
His eyes stayed locked on yours, unreadable, a trace of that same teasing defiance in his tone as he crawled onto the bed.
“It’s a learning experience, right?” he said, burying his face into the crook of your neck and taking his sweet, precious time sucking on your sweet spot. “Teach me.”
You blinked, unsure whether to laugh or catch your breath. “Teach you what?”
He pulled back to smile down at you. “Teach me how to make you cum.”
I’m dead.
I died and went to heaven.
You opened your mouth, something fumbling, trying to explain, but the words felt impossible to form. You’d never… not like this. Your chest rose and fell, heart hammering as he tilted his head, watching you struggle to speak.
Gently, like he was scared you would bite – or maybe that he would – he slid his hands down your chest, down to the little bow you’d tied on the front of the robe. He hooked a digit beneath it, tugging just enough to make the fabric shift, but not enough for it to come loose.
His eyes – the color of the deep sea – bore into yours with a fiery passion. Before you could tell him you wouldn’t have made a good teacher because, despite running your mouth, you had never had your pussy eaten before, he was already asking, “Can I undo this?”
Wait. Let’s put the brakes on this.
I’ve never let a man–
“Yes,” You were breathing out before you could stop the words. You didn’t know what to expect. All you knew was that the searing hot warmth in your belly seemed to drip down your core at the idea of him on his knees between your thighs.
And, just like that, you were letting his strong hands pinch the end of one of the tassels, tugging it until the whole bow came loose. Gravity did the rest of the work for him, making the fabric slide off of your breasts, fully revealing you to his ravenous gaze for the first time.
Your nakedness ran bone-deep, deeper than just surface-level. It wasn’t the lack of clothes that left you feeling vulnerable and bare. No, it was the way he was looking at you – not like any other hook up ever had, not like you were a quick, warm body, but like you were beautiful. Something that needed to be held, touched, revered. Like you were a canvas just waiting to be painted by his lips.
You watched his eyes trail over your entire body. Your lips, your chest, your pudgy belly, and then low enough to have your face burning.
He took another moment to appreciate your chest, hand reaching out like it was uncertain. “You know, maybe it’s because I’ve never stopped to admire before, but…” He trailed a finger down your sternum, stopping when he was right in the valley between your breasts. “You’ve got the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen.”
Me.
I’ve got the prettiest tits he’s ever seen. It was hard to not let that get to your head.
Instead, you turned your head to the side, avoiding his gaze. The sex, you could handle. You could handle the thought of him fucking you into the mattress, eating you until you couldn’t stand. You couldn’t handle the idea that this… whatever this was… was anything more than a drunk mistake in the making.
His hand was gentle – warm, but firm – as it cupped your chest. He massaged the skin between his fingers like he had all night to do so. Then, right when you least expected it, he pinched your piercing between his fingers.
The reaction was immediate. You jolted up, eyes flying open as you gasped.
What the fuck was that?
He seemed to be more driven by genuine curiosity than anything else, if the way he asked, “Feel good?” while gently pinching, twisting, and rolling your nipple piercing beneath his fingertips was any indicator.
“Mhm,” You shuddered. With a particularly bold pinch, you arched your back off of the bed.
Aki braced his weight onto his arms, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, and you would have been lying if you said you didn’t take a moment to appreciate the well-earned muscles rippling beneath his skin. While he gently flattened his tongue over one sensitive bud, he rolled the other between his index finger and his thumb.
Oh my god. You thought. Every pinch, every lick went straight to your core, throbbing with pure need. The piercings certainly didn’t help. No, if anything, they only made you more sensitive.
“Aki,” You breathed out, voice breaking.
Aki’s eyes darted up at the sound of his name coming from your mouth – slivers of blue beneath the dim lighting – but he didn’t stop pleasing you. Not Captain. Not Hayakawa, but Aki.
The sensation was like anything you’d ever experienced, and if he was that much of a natural with your tits, you couldn’t imagine how he’d feel when he…
“Fuck,” You gasped.
You were dripping wet. You could feel it. Every time you shifted your hips up, tried to chase some of that friction, only to be met with nothing, you could feel it.
A moment later, Aki’s lips strayed from your chest. He began to trail lower, pressing a kiss to your ribs, your stomach, then a little lower. Blush bloomed wherever he kissed, blood vessels expanding beneath his delicate touch.
And then, just when you felt his warm lips brush up against your navel, felt his hands gently part your thighs like he was unwrapping a present, you stopped him. You reached a hand down and pushed back against his head.
“Aki, wait, I’ve never…” You trailed off, embarrassed by the admission.
Aki tilted his head at you. “What?”
“I’ve never had that… happen to me before,” You gritted out.
“That’s alright,” He shifted down on the bed, already lowering his head down between your thighs, “Just tell me what feels good.”
You stopped him again, “Aki, wait… I’m nervous. I don’t– I don’t think I can teach you.”
“I don’t know,” He teased, a wicked grin crossing his features. “With such a high turnover rate, I think you’re right. I need some instruction.”
Hayakawa, you petty bastard. You thought. Right when you were about to object, right when you were about to make some snide remark, you felt his breath – warm and gentle – up against the place you needed him the most. Felt his hands spread your legs further apart.
“Tell me how you like to be touched, tasted,” He breathed out once your dripping cunt was bared to him. Seemingly aware of the way you wiggled beneath his gaze, he puffed out a sharp gust of air right against your clit, one that made you squirm. Then, looking up at you through his lashes like he was hungry, he added, “How you like to be fucked. Teach me how to please you.”
Oh my god.
Am I getting laid tonight?
“You– You’ve got a potty mouth, sir,” You continued running your mouth, because that’s what you did best.
“Have I ever told you how much it turns me on when you call me that?” He grinned.
You thought of all the times you called him “sir” on the field. Of all the times he would turn away from you, a mysterious glint in his eye.
Yeah. That checked out.
“Shut up and lick me already,” You tutted.
To your surprise, he did exactly that, bringing his head close enough to flatten his tongue against your pussy and lick a long, hot stripe from the bottom to the top. You choked on a moan – louder than you appreciated.
Holy fucking shit.
“You taste even better than I imagined,” Aki licked his lips. “Don’t be shy, sensei, keep going.”
He’s thought about this before. I’m gonna pass out.
“Keep licking,” You commanded him. Gently, he obeyed, lavishing your pussy with soft kitten-licks. It was enough to have your legs trembling, toes curling into the sheets. “Yes, just like that–”
Aki kept up a languid pace, alternating between licking you up and down and focusing just on your clit. Slowly, his hands slid up the backs of your thighs, folding your legs in until they were pressed against your stomach. The angle shifted just enough that the sensations felt stronger.
You reached up above your head, tangling your fingers in the sheets, arching your back. “Oh god.”
He lingered lower, his breath tracing patterns along your skin – warm, teasing, impossibly gentle. Each pass made you shiver, not just from the sensation but from the way it rippled through you, sharp and tender at once. You felt your muscles tighten, a laugh nearly slipping out, but it dissolved into something quieter, a longing sigh of his name, “Aki…”
He moaned in response, keeping up the pace until you could feel the arousal dripping out of you.
“Put– Put your mouth on my… my clit,” You gasped out, too lost in the sensations to care about how debauched you sounded.
“Up… here…?” Aki played dumb with a coy little smile, moving his tongue up until the tip of it pressed right up against the most sensitive part of you. Then, without needing to be told twice, he sucked the nub into his mouth, wrapping his lips around it.
You threw your head back, feet coming up off the bed while he sucked on your clit like a fucking lollipop. Your eyes fluttered shut, rolled back, and your thighs quaked. Aki handled your legs with his hands, hooking them over his shoulders while he stayed glued to your pussy.
It was a life changing experience. It felt like he was undoing you bit by bit. His tongue was soft, then hard, and his mouth was so fucking warm that you couldn’t wrap your head around it.
“Tell me how it feels,” He panted, voice slurred against your skin.
You moaned, “Fuck, God, ‘s so good,” the sound high-pitched and loud. Loud enough to be heard over the movie, and you didn’t even care.
He spat on it, sucked on it, and the sound was so dirty that you worried someone could hear. Though, realistically, no one was hearing anything over the sinful whines and moans that his ministrations pulled from your chest.
He doesn’t need a fucking teacher, You thought. That was fucking bullshit.
It took a great deal of effort to actually speak. But, when you reached down and tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging with a cry of, “More,” the message got across.
He understood. Of course he did. He always did.
His movements slowed, deliberate, like he wanted to draw out the space between each breath, each touch. You could feel the steadiness in him – that quiet control that only made you fall further apart. The warmth of his breath ghosted across your aching cunt.
No, you weren’t in control. You never had been.
You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore – only that you needed him to stay like this, to keep on sucking you off the bone like he had nowhere else to be in the morning.
He lifted his head slightly, eyes meeting yours for a long, steady moment. You couldn’t read what he was thinking – only that he looked at you like you were something he shouldn’t touch but couldn’t stop himself from wanting to. His hand lingered where it had been, his thumb tracing slow, grounding circles against your side, as if reminding you to breathe.
You swallowed, still breathless, your pulse unsteady. You were embarrassingly close, and he hadn’t even been eating you out for very long.
Then, he was teasing a finger up and down your entrance, slipping it inside with no resistance at all. Though not unwelcome, the intrusion caught you by surprise, making you arch your back up into him. He inserted another shortly after. The stretch only burned for a moment, but it was hard to focus on that when he was eating you so sweetly, so perfectly. His fingers pumped in and out of you at a slow pace. He crooked them up, searching around for your g-spot.
And, shit, when he found it…
“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair harder. Being stimulated with his mouth was one thing, but his fingers were another. They were long and thick, talented enough to find that place deep inside that made you fucking drip and stay there. “Oh my fucking god, I–”
This time, when you tugged at Aki’s hair, the sound he made in response startled you – low, unguarded, and real. It wasn’t the kind of noise you’d ever imagined he was capable of. It carried a rough edge that spoke of all the composure he’d been fighting to hold onto.
He’s kinky.
I love it.
He didn’t stop; he couldn’t. The rhythm of his lips shifted, his fingertips drawing slow shapes inside of you, gently undoing the strings of your orgasm second by second. It was all maddeningly tender – the kind of touch that wasn’t meant to take, but to learn.
You gasped, sobbing, “Aki–” through it, and felt his breath catch against your cunt as though he’d absorbed the sound into himself. The muscles in his shoulders moved with the rhythm of his breathing – steady, deliberate, but trembling faintly, like he was holding back.
When you looked down at him, his hair was a dark spill over your skin, and his eyes had gone soft – unfocused in that way that comes from wanting too much. You could see it, the strain in his expression, the way his jaw tightened every time you made another small sound.
Then, he reached up, using his free hand to toy with your piercing, and you were fucking screwed. When his fingers brushed against the small piece of metal in your nipple, the world tilted. The touch was featherlight, almost teasing, but it sent a pulse through you that made your breath stutter.
But that fleeting spark didn’t fade… it grew, rolling through you like a tide that wouldn’t stop. Each tiny touch combined with the stimulation to both your clit and your g-spot sent shockwaves you hadn’t expected, waves that built on one another, rising faster, sharper, until it seemed like your body couldn’t contain it.
“I think ‘m close,” You panted. Then, when more warmth pooled in your belly, you added. “Shit, I think I’m gonna cum–”
Aki didn’t answer, keeping up that same pace – not slower, not faster, but he moved with more purpose.
And then, there it was.
You gasped, shivering as every nerve lit up at once. Your fingers gripped the sheets harder, nails biting into the fabric, trying to hold yourself steady. Your stomach twisted, your ribs tingled, and for a moment the world narrowed to just the space between the two of you.
The waves didn’t come in one single rush, but in rolling surges, one after another. Each one left you breathless and trembling, your mind teetering on the edge of losing itself completely. Sounds slipped from your lips, half-words, half-gasped fragments, echoing in the room and pressing into him as you came hard.
The heat pooled low in your chest, spiraled up through your limbs, and rolled through every part of you, a crescendo of feeling that left you trembling, light-headed, and utterly undone. Your vision blurred at the edges, your senses narrowed to the press of his fingers, the warmth of his mouth, the soft, impossibly careful way he licked you through it.
When your orgasm finally receded, you sagged into the sheets, but he wasn’t finished with you.
You tried to pull back, every instinct in your body screaming that it was too much, that you couldn’t take another second. Your hands pressed against him lightly, but he didn’t move away. He stayed, licking, sucking, like he was doing it for his enjoyment.
Your chest heaved. Your muscles shook. “I can’t–” you squirmed, tears beginning to stream down your face from the sensation, but the words caught in your throat.
He didn’t pause. He just kept on eating you, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not tasting you. Even as your body screamed with sensitivity, even as you pushed lightly, lightly, against him, he held his ground. The quiet intensity in his eyes told you he didn’t want to stop.
But, eventually, he did.
By the time you finally sank against the sheets, breathless and trembling, it wasn’t just your body that had been pushed – it was everything. For a long moment, you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak – only feel. Aki stayed there too, his forehead resting lightly against you, his breath hot and steady, letting you ride the aftermath with him. The room was quiet except for the sound of your shared breathing.
You looked down at him affectionately, wiping the tears from your eyes. He smiled back at you, breathlessly, face soakedwith your juices.
“Was I good?” He asked, but the shit-eating grin on his face told you that he already knew the answer.
You laughed slightly, still caught between pleasure and breathlessness. “It was alright, I guess,” you lied, voice shaky, your chest still tight from the intensity of what had just fucking happened.
He leaned closer, eyes dark with amusement and something unspoken. “Just alright? That won’t do,” he murmured, tilting his head. “I can make you feel even better than just alright.”
Your stomach fluttered at the words, your senses suddenly acute. His gaze held yours, commanding and magnetic.
“What are you suggesting, hmm?” You huffed, completely out of breath. “Surely not a violation of protocol.”
“Of course not,” He replied. “I’m suggesting that you turn around and put your hands against that headboard over there, if you think you can take a little more.”
You grinned, “Not sure there’s anything little about what you want to give me.”
That got a chuckle out of him.
Still, you obeyed, because you would be damned if you passed up on the opportunity you’d been waiting for. You rolled unceremoniously onto your stomach, shifting your weight onto your hands and knees. Then, crawling up the bed, you leaned back into the prettiest arch you could muster.
“There we go,” he said softly, and there was no hurry in his tone, only that quiet authority that made it impossible to resist. His hand came down hard against your ass, the sound reverberating through the room as his palm made contact with your skin. “Such an obedient slut, aren’t you?”
Why am I so into this? Your pulse spiked, your hands moving instinctively to brace against the headboard. He stayed close behind you, letting the anticipation stretch out.
“Why is this taking so long?” you asked, breath uneven, your pulse still racing.
He leaned in, close enough that the warmth of him brushed against your ear, voice low and smooth. “Patience,” He cooed, “If you want it, you’re gonna have to earn it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you protested, shaking your head, though your voice betrayed the tiniest tremor.
He leaned closer, voice low and deliberate, eyes glinting with that same teasing intensity. “I’m not giving you anything until you behave and ask nicely,” he said, letting the words stretch between you like a slow burn.
“What do you want me to do, beg?” you said, trying to keep your tone steady, but it came out uncertain.
His grin widened, a dangerous curve that made your pulse jump. “Exactly that,” he murmured. “Beg for it. Show me that you mean it. Beg me to fuck you.”
You swallowed hard, heart hammering. The air between you thickened, almost tangible, as if waiting for your next words. Your hands tightened instinctively against the headboard. “Please…,” you whispered, the single word trembling at first, “please… I need it…”
“Need what, pretty girl?” He teased.
“I…” You put your head down, shamefully admitting, “I need you to fuck me, sir.”
His eyes softened for the briefest second, but the teasing spark never left them. “Good,” he said, voice low, slow, savoring the sound. “Such a good girl. Move your hips back for me.”
Once you were situated the way he wanted you, he reached for something off to the side. Then, gently, he wrapped his discarded tie from earlier around one wrist, followed by the other. He wound the material in between, tying your hands together in front of you and, consequentially, forcing you down into a deeper arch.
His lips were on the back of your neck before you could ask him what he was doing, pressing tender kisses there like he was reveling in the tension. His kisses strayed, trailing down your neck, your spine, until they stopped just above your hips.
“You ever done it without a condom before?” He asked you, voice a whole lot deeper than you had anticipated. “Because I’m assuming you didn’t happen to bring any with you.”
“No, but I’m clean,” You wiggled your hips back.
“That’s not the only risk at hand here,” he chuckled.
“I know,” You replied. “Just pull out, okay? We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
“Famous last words. Fuck, this is a bad idea,” Aki paused, like he was debating whether or not this was a good idea. Then, as if making up his mind, he shifted his weight onto his knees behind you, lining himself up with your dripping hole until you could feel the tip pressed right up against you. “Take a deep breath in for me, okay?”
You exhaled the breath you were holding, then breathed another breath in. Out. In.
Out–
The feeling of Aki pushing in was enough to knock the wind out of you. He didn’t give you all of it – not yet. He gave you just enough for you to be able to feel the stretch. Your fingers dug into the sheets as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will the burn away.
“Just breathe, keep going,” He cooed, rubbing his thumb over your hip before he gave you a little more. “‘Atta girl.”
You couldn’t help the way you held your breath right up until his hips met your skin – right up until he was buried as deep inside of you as he could go, and the two of you moaned with relief at the exact same time.
After a moment, Aki asked, “You okay?”
“Mhm,” You nodded. “Just need a ‘min.”
Holy fucking shit, he’s big.
For a moment, everything stilled. The room felt quiet, broken only by the uneven rhythm of your breathing and the background noise of the movie you’d long since forgotten about. You kept your eyes shut, trying to steady the flutter in your chest, grounding yourself.
He didn’t rush you; his hand stayed firm against your hip, waiting, patient, steady as stone.
You inhaled, slow and trembling, until the tension, the stretch, started to melt away. When you finally found your voice again, it came out soft, barely above a whisper.
“Okay,” you murmured, opening your eyes. “You can move.”
He didn’t speak right away – just let out a slow exhale, like he’d been holding his breath, too. Then, slowly, he pulled out just a bit. This time, when he rolled his hips into yours, you clenched down on him – the bizarre mix of pleasure and pain was hard to digest.
Out, then in. Out, then in.
“Don’t tense up. I got you,” He breathed out, the words trembling as they fell from his lips, “You can take it.”
That was all it took. Just like that, the pain melted away, replaced by something beautiful – something truly unexpected. The kind of pleasure you’d only dreamt about when dealing with guys of… smaller stature.
“Oh God,” You gasped out. Your chest felt like it was on fire – a slow, deep warmth that crept down your stomach and into your core, spread across your face. It was the strangest thing. Each time Aki rolled his hips into yours, each time his dick slipped against your inner walls, the sensation was overwhelming – a stretch, a sharp jolt of pleasure. A warm, rippling feeling that rolled over you in waves.
“There you go, just like that,” He exhaled, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
That’s an understatement. When he thrust his full length into you again, your eyes damn near rolled back into your skull. The steady, low moans that poured from your mouth were purely pornographic.
“Look at you,” He commented, bringing his hands down your back to settle on your hips as he drew out, pushed back in. “Falling apart already, and I’ve barely even started with you.”
“Fuck me–” You practically sobbed into the pillow, “Faster, please–”
“Yeah?” He panted, “Think you can take it?”
“I can– fuck, ‘promise–” You begged him shamelessly, rutting your hips back to get a little more of that delicioussensation, chasing the promise of pleasure, meeting his strokes in the middle.
You gasped when something hit your ass – hard. A hand.
“I never said you could move,” He reprimanded you. “I’ll take care of you. Just relax.”
“Hah,” You gasped. You wanted to reach back, to hold his hand, something, but you couldn’t. Your hands were (literally) tied.
The slick dripping down the back of your thighs made it easy for him to slip in and out of you at a maddening pace. He sped up when he felt like it, driving his hips into you a little faster. Not hard, but faster.
You gripped the sheets, practically melting at the feeling, “Aki– fuck…”
He groaned at the sound of his name, adjusting his grip on your hips like he had been holding back for you. “Shit, you feel fucking amazing.”
Your body trembled beneath his touch, the air between you thick and charged. Every movement, every breath felt drawn out, deliberate. His voice dropped lower, gravel roughened by restraint he was barely holding onto.
“You like when I talk to you like this, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear. You swallowed hard, unable to trust your own voice, but the answer was already written all over you – in the way you couldn’t stay still, in how your body betrayed you.
He huffed out a laugh, the sound dark and soft. “Can’t even hide it. You’re shaking, pretty girl.” His hand traced the edge of your spine, steadying you even as the tremor ran through your legs.
You let out a broken sigh, gripping the sheets tighter as if that could anchor you. He leaned closer, his words brushing over your skin like heat while his hips drove into you a little deeper, brushing up against spots you didn’t even know existed.
“Such a mess,” he whispered, the tone more reverent than cruel, “but still trying to be good for me.”
You nodded weakly, your breath catching when he adjusted his hold, guiding you back into rhythm, holding you down and making you take his strokes, which grew harsher by the second. Before you could stop it, you were biting down on the pillow, trying to stay quiet.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his tone stern. “Stay still. Don’t run from it.”
Every time your ass met his hips, the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room. Your moans were muffled by the pillow, but were still pitchy in nature. Aki was eating them up.
Aki gave you more, more, more – fucking you hard enough that the bed began to shake with the force of it, hard enough that you couldn’t think of anything else but his fucking name.
“Aki, please–” You cried out, “Fuck, I can’t take it–”
The brutal pace of his strokes had you babbling nonsense into the pillow. You allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling because, fuck, if you were going to regret it in the morning, you might as well have a fond memory to look back on. Aki’s hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise.
At least, until one of them began to wander – began to slide up your back, trail across your spine and leave goosebumps in its wake. He took your hair up in his hand, wrapping it around his fist like he fucking owned you, and you were gone. He used the leverage to crane your head up, force you to look back at him.
The image that waited for you was one you would never forget. Aki, buried to the hilt in your needy cunt, sweat dripping down his chest, his necklace, rolling down his abs, sticking his hair to his forehead. The blush had spread over his face. His eyes were wild with desire, pupils blown wide.
With a devilish little grin, he said, “Look where running that mouth got you. You say you can’t take it but you’re gushingall over me.”
You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. You’d never been that wet before – not for anyone. The evidence of your arousal was warm and slick, coating your inner thighs and making it all too easy for Aki to slide in.
It felt like he belonged there, which was a dangerous thought.
You know… considering he was your captain, and all.
Keeping his fist in your hair, he steered your head forward, driving into you with the kind of force that had your legs folding up, toes curling into the air. Each and every time he fucked into you, the tip of his dick pressed right up against that spot so deep inside of you that you saw stars – the spot that sent jolts of searing-hot pleasure up and down your spine. He all but plowed you into the mattress – at such an unforgiving pace and depth, it was hard to say anything.
Except his name, that was.
“Aki–!” The sound was ripped from you. “Aki… Aki…”
“Fuck, you keep squeezing me,” He panted. “I can feel you, Baby, Can you fucking feel me?”
You could feel him, alright. Feel him stuffing you so full that you couldn’t even wrap your fucking head around it. “Mhm! I feel it,” Came your debauched reply, “Fuck, I can feel it, Aki–”
His dick wasn’t the only thing you could feel inside of you. In fact, as he kept on hitting that same fucking spot over and over again – until you were drooling all over the pillow – you felt something else coming.
“I’m so close,” You shuddered, spreading your legs a bit to change the angle and, fuck, it only nudged you closer to the promise of sweet, sweet release.
Aki leaned down, bracing his weight onto his hands, practically pounding you into the fucking mattress. You were being fucked within an inch of your life.
“You’re not cumming until I say you can,” He managed to grit out.
Fucking asshole.
You were close. Dangerously close. Close enough that you had to physically squeeze your eyes shut to stave off your impending orgasm. It was no easy task, not by a stretch, but you wanted to be good for him.
It was no use.
Your orgasm was coming, and it was coming fast. You could feel it brewing deep inside of you – that dangerous, low, bubbling warmth that curled around your core.
Deciding to throw your morals out the window for the sake of finishing, you turned your head, peering back at him through watery eyes.
“Please–” You begged,
“Please, what?” He taunted right back, seemingly reveling in the sight of you begging for him to let you cum.
“Please, sir–” You tried again. This time, you couldn’t blink the tears away. Instead, you let them fall. “Please, Aki, fuck, I need it–”
“What do you need, Angel?” He asked you, voice layered with faux sympathy.
“I need to cum, please,” You pleaded, “Please, let me cum.”
“That’s better,” He smiled. “You’ve been so good for me. Go ahead, Angel. Cum for me.”
“Aki–” You didn’t need to be told twice. You buried your face deep into the pillow, letting the orgasm hit you with the strength of a fucking freight train, roll over you in waves. Aki never stopped, never stilled – just kept on fucking you through it at a languid pace, like he was trying to draw it out of you. Your body tensed, released all over him while you rutted your hips back. “Oh, fuck, Aki!”
He stayed close, breathing hard against your neck as you trembled beneath him. Every muscle in your body fluttered with the aftershocks, your breath stuttering out in soft, uneven sounds.
His hand steadied your hip, grounding you, keeping you from slipping too far into the haze. You could barely move, your chest rising and falling as the tension slowly melted away. He brushed his lips over your shoulder – light, fleeting – like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts.
Once he felt you were ready, he pulled out and rolled you sideways onto your back. Your head leaning ever-so-slightly off the edge of the bed, but if he didn’t care, then neither did you. You were too fucked out to care.
But, then, just when you thought he was done with you, his lips were back on your neck. A little rougher, this time, stopping to suck on the place that made you purr like a kitten. They traveled down, accompanied this time by the gentle scrape of his canines against your warm, sensitive skin. The aftereffects of your orgasm still thrummed in your pulse, your veins.
He stopped to appreciate your chest. In some places, he bit down. In others, he sucked until you knew there would be marks. You just couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.
No, in fact, there was something almost primal about him marking you up like you belonged to him. Something that you weren’t entirely sure you hated.
He slipped one of your nipple piercings into his mouth when you weren’t paying attention, tongue flicking against the oversensitive bud until you were shaking like a fucking leaf.
No, he’s not done with me yet.
As if on cue, you could feel him swiping the tip of his cock – still achingly hard – through your folds, collecting some more of that warm slick onto the head before pushing back in.
You gasped at the intrusion, back arching off of the bed, “Shi-it–”
He moaned through a mouthful of your tit, sliding right in until he was pressed flush up against you. The new angle had your vision going white at the edges – overstimulation combining with pleasure to make for a breathtaking experience.
Aki moved away from your nipple, though he didn’t go far, biting down on the skin right next to it just enough to make you cry out. With pleasure or pain, you weren’t sure – maybe a little of both.
Your hands, still tied, flopped uselessly above your head, dangling off of the edge of the bed.
This time, when Aki fucked you, he reached a hand down to rub your clit. As if you weren’t already overstimulated, you yelped at the sensation – as always, your body melted beneath his touch, creaming all over him without shame.
Fuck me, you thought.
“‘S good, So good..” You repeated like it was some sort of mantra. “So good, Aki–”
“Fuck, keep saying my name,” He growled, rolling his hips into yours at just the right pace, just the right angle to make your eyes roll back.
You were overstimulated beyond comprehension.
“You like that, don’t you?” he muttered between gritted teeth, his breath hot against your neck. “You sound so good when you say it.”
You tried to speak, to breathe, but the words barely made it past your lips. “Aki–”
“Yeah?” he cut in, his tone dark, teasing. “That’s it. Say it again.” He shifted, his rhythm relentless, hitting the same spot over and over until your whole body went taut. “Can’t even think straight, can you?”
Your hands grabbed at nothing, a strangled sound caught in your throat. You shook your head, but he only laughed under his breath, low and amused. “Look at you,” he said, voice rough with something between praise and possession. “So sensitive… you’re shaking, Baby.”
Baby.
And I’m supposed to just move on after this?
“Aki, I–” You tried again, your voice trembling.
He leaned in, his words cutting through your thoughts. “You’re not tapping out on me now, are you?”
You couldn’t answer. Everything inside you was too loud, too much. He caught your jaw, forcing your gaze forward, his breath still ragged. “Come on. Give me more, I know you can do it.”
You whimpered, trying to find air, to find words, but your body was already unraveling. It was too much – every nerve inside of you felt fucking raw. His name tore from your throat again.
“Stop fucking running,” He murmured, low and filthy, his tone dark and coaxing. “You wanted this, right? Take it.”
You twisted, breath stuttering, pushing at his chest as you slipped from his grasp, subconsciously trying to get away from the overstimulation.
But it was futile. Aki’s hands were on your hips before you could fall off the bed, pulling you right back onto the bed with him. Except, this time, he paused to reach behind him, pulling out a pillow and sliding it beneath your lower back. The angle changed again. This time, your hips were elevated.
You could just barely see him – face flushed and eyes hazy, hair tousled and all over his face as he pulled you closer by one of your legs. Once he was satisfied, he took that same leg and hooked it over his shoulder.
Oh, God, what is he–
He thrust in – giving you all of him at once – and you gasped out a whole lot louder than you were proud of. Your eyes, wide and uncertain, gawked up at him.
Aki only grinned at you, grabbing your calf and pressing a sinful little kiss to your ankle.
“You’re–” You huffed, “You’re the fuckin’ devil.”
“You gonna kill me then, rookie?” He teased. “I’d like to see you try.”
You wanted to answer, to bite something back, but the way he was looking at you made your brain short out. That steady, unflinching stare – blue eyes focused like he was reading every flicker that crossed your face – made your words die in your throat.
He resumed what he was doing, moving like he hadn’t even heard your protest, calm and in control. His breathing was heavier now, but his composure didn’t crack; it never did. You could see the faint tension in his jaw, the muscle that twitched when he was holding himself back. The sight made your pulse race.
“Still with me?” he asked you quietly. There wasn’t mockery in that – just that same quiet authority he carried everywhere, even now.
You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture, or maybe you just didn’t want him to see how much you were struggling to keep up. “Yeah,” you managed, your voice thin.
“Good,” he muttered. “Don’t start spacing out on me now.”
There was something about his tone – firm but controlled, a little rough around the edges – that made your stomach twist. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“You talk too much,” you muttered. It came out weaker than you meant it to, a half-breath between irritation and surrender.
Aki laughed softly, low in his throat, not cruel but amused. “You don’t even know the half of it,” he said. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention from me.”
You scoffed, trying to disguise the tremor in your voice. “Oh, please. You probably say that to everyone.”
He tilted his head slightly, that same lazy half-smile crossing his face. “Do I look like someone who wastes my words?”
No. I know you’re not.
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t, really – not when he said it like that, like it was an irrefutable fact. He was impossible to argue with when he slipped into that tone, calm and infuriatingly sure of himself.
And it was even more impossible to argue when the angle he was fucking you at had you going dumb. Your jaw dropped, making room for more of those fucking sounds that seemed to spur him on. You all but screamed his name on a particularly harsh stroke; “Aki!”
The neighbors– you thought.
But, shit, it didn’t bother you enough to make you stop.
He grabbed you firmly by the neck, forcing your gaze upward, and locked his eyes onto yours. “Look at me,” he said, voice low and commanding.
You did, even though your head was spinning and your limbs felt like they were floating. The world around you had narrowed until it was just him, just his eyes, steady and unyielding, holding you in place. Your eyes trailed up to his necklace, watching as it thumped rhythmically against his chest, swinging in your face.
When he relaxed his fingers, you greedily sucked down more air – alternating between panting and screaming bloody murder. You’d never felt anything like it before.
It felt better than anything you’d ever experienced in your entire life.
Aki used his thumb to tug your mouth open. You peered up into his eyes through your lashes, uncertain about what his next move could possibly have been.
Then, he spat in your mouth. The worst part? You didn’t even have to be told – you swallowed on instinct.
Aki huffed out something between a laugh and a moan, “God, you’re fucking dirty.”
Without warning, he bent slightly and lifted you with careful strength, guiding you into his lap. The sudden motion made your chest flutter, but his hands stayed firm and steady on your sides, anchoring you.
Then, he began to move your hips back and forth, up and down.
The rhythm wasn’t gentle this time. It was demanding. His grip guided your hips with a rough precision that made your heart stutter. You felt the strain in his arms as he held you, his fingers pressing into your sides like he needed to feel every part of you. The sound of your breathing mixed with his – ragged, heavy, filling the space between you until the air felt too thick to swallow.
Threw your bound wrists around his neck, searching for something solid, but he was already everywhere – his breath hot against your neck, his chest firm against yours, his hands dragging you up and down in a rhythm that had you sobbing.
Your heart pounded against your ribs. Every small noise he made – every low groan, every nasty little curse whispered against your skin – sent a shiver down your spine.
He was close enough now that you could feel every exhale on your neck, every twitch of his muscles beneath your hands. His touch wasn’t careful anymore; it was hungry, like he’d been holding back and finally stopped trying.
You moved with him now, meeting his rhythm in the middle without even realizing it. His hands slipped lower, gripping your ass, bouncing you harder, faster. You could feel the heat rise under your skin, the ache in your shaking thighs, the sharp catch of his breath when you rolled your hips in circles, testing him.
That was when he snapped. His grip tightened, and a low sound left his throat – half a growl, half your name. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, voice low and rough. “Just like that, Good fucking girl, shit.”
You didn’t. You couldn’t.
The world blurred around the edges. The only thing that felt real was him – his hands, his voice, the raw, desperate rhythm that neither of you could seem to control anymore. You felt his forehead press against your collarbone, his breath coming out harsh and unsteady, and for a second, the intensity was too much.
You held on to him like you might fall apart if you didn’t. Every motion was sharper now, every exhale louder, the rhythm turning frantic before slowing again, just enough to draw it out.
You knew you looked wild – hair a mess, bouncing wildly in your Captain’s lap like a bitch in heat – but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All that mattered was Aki, Aki, Aki.
“‘M close,” You gasped out for what felt like the hundredth time that night.
Aki heard you, but he’d busied himself with sucking and biting at your chest again. “Me too, shit…”
“Aki–” You shuddered, feeling that unbearable warmth crawl its way up your spine for the third time that night. “Aki, I’m gonna cum–” You added, “Don’t pull out. I want you to cum inside of me.”
“Shit,” he gasped.
Aki’s hand moved quicker than you were able to pick up on – slipping down through the sweaty junction between your body and his and finding your clit with ease. The circles he rubbed were frantic – more spit than finesse, but it was enough to push you over the edge.
The rhythm broke all at once. It hit like a wave – strong, intense. For a second, the world felt suspended; your heartbeat, his voice, the tremor that ran through both of you – everything collided as the two of you came at the same time.
At the same time that your body clenched down on him, Aki buried himself as deep inside of you as he could fit and let go, shooting searing, white-hot warmth into your core. You gasped at the sensation of him filling you up.
You came close to him without thinking, fingernails digging into his back, and he caught you just as tight, his chest rising against yours in quick, uneven bursts.
His forehead pressed to yours, your mouths brushing but not quite meeting, both of you gasping, trying to catch the air you’d lost. You could feel him shaking slightly beneath you, the tension still running through his shoulders, his breath coming out in short, broken sounds.
Then, not thinking twice about it, you kissed him. He made a sound against your lips – small, unsteady, almost like a whimper – before melting into it.
He kissed you back like he didn’t know how to stop himself, the warmth of it spreading until it felt like your whole body was pulsing with it. His hand came up to the side of your neck, thumb brushing over your jaw as though he was memorizing the shape of you, trying to steady the mess of feeling behind the kiss.
When you finally broke away, it wasn’t really breaking – your lips hovered close, still chasing his breath, your noses brushing. Neither of you said anything. You could feel his chest rising and falling against yours, his breathing ragged, the heat between you not quite fading.
Aki reached behind his back and situated your hands in front of him before untying your wrists. Then he exhaled, shuddering a little, and buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. His breath came out uneven, warm against your skin. You could feel the tension leaving him, his body softening as though the fight had finally gone out of him.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing, the faint creak of the mattress beneath you, the heartbeat still thrumming wildly in both of you. You didn’t move for a long time.
When you finally looked up, he met your gaze through the dim light – eyes half-lidded, expression raw, something softer lingering there that he didn’t try to hide this time. You were both still breathing hard, chests pressed together, but there was nothing left to say.
That actually just happened.
One minute, you were looking at his pretty face, and the next, Aki was turning the two of you over, laying you down gently on the bed. He got up and left (and you totally didn’t giggle at his butt when he walked off).
Before you could be disappointed, he returned with a wet washcloth in his hand. He dropped down onto his knees, spreading your legs apart and using the warm, damp fabric to clean you up.
He tossed it haphazardly onto the nightstand, then flopped down beside you, pulling the blanket up and over the two of you.
The room felt small again – dim, hazy, the TV frozen on some screen that just said replay or exit. He reached toward the nightstand, flicked a lighter, and the sharp scratch of the flame lit his face for a second before fading into smoke.
“I don’t think this is a smoking room,” you murmured, voice hoarse from what the two of you had done. “They’re gonna charge you extra.”
“I don’t give a shit,” he said, taking a slow drag before glancing over at you. “You want one?”
You hesitated, then nodded anyway. He passed it over, and you took a small drag, the burn catching at the back of your throat immediately. You coughed, grimaced. “God, that’s disgusting,” you muttered, handing it back.
He smirked around the filter. “Yeah, it is.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The TV hummed quietly in the background, throwing dull light across the sheets. Your pulse was still too fast, your head still too full. Finally, you broke the silence. “Should we… talk about this?”
He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, lips parting on a sigh before he stubbed the cigarette out in a half-empty cup on the nightstand. “Tomorrow,” he said.. Then, he leaned in, pressing a faint kiss to your forehead. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. We have to be up early.”
You didn’t argue. You just let yourself curl against his chest, feeling the slow rhythm of his breathing under your cheek. The room still smelled faintly of smoke and warmth and whatever was left of the night. Somewhere behind the hum of the TV, the world kept going.
Fuck, he’s got good pecs.
You let your eyes fall shut, sinking into the steady beat of his heart until sleep finally took you. Yeah. Tomorrow.
You woke to the faint scratch of light cutting through the blinds and the quiet sound of movement beside you. For a second, you forgot where you were.
When your eyes finally opened, he was already looking at you, his expression soft in a way that didn’t match him. His hair was still a little disheveled, but it suited him.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough and low, like it hadn’t been used yet.
You blinked up at him, still half-asleep. “Morning.”
He leaned down before you could say anything else, his lips brushing yours once – a quiet test – then again, deeper this time, until your breath caught somewhere in the middle of it.
His hand slid up to your jaw, thumb tracing small, lazy circles there as the kiss deepened. He didn’t rush it. Just let it unfold, one soft press at a time, until your body started to wake up under the weight of it. You kissed him back without thinking, chasing his breath when he started to pull away, and he gave a quiet laugh against your lips – the kind that vibrated in his chest more than it came out as sound.
Then he trailed downward – a faint line of kisses along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, the place where your pulse fluttered at your throat. You felt his breath when he spoke, a barely-there murmur against your skin. “You sleep okay?”
You nodded, though it came out more like a sigh. “Mm-hmm.”
He hummed, lips ghosting lower, finding that spot just below your ear that made your stomach twist. You laughed quietly, the sound breaking through the quiet. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t answer – just smiled against your skin, slow and secretive, the kind of smile that said you already know. His lips trailed lower, lower, pressing kisses to your stomach.
And then his lips pressed one last kiss just above your navel before he threw the sheets over his head and disappeared.
Just when you were about to ask what he was planning, you felt his hands grip your hips, scooting you closer to his face. Then, his tongue, drawing a line up your slit in a way that had you arching off of the bed.
“Oh, shit,” You moaned out loud, losing yourself in the sensation. “Good– Good morning to you, too.”
Aki groaned in response, although the noise was muffled by your thighs. His grip was like a vice, strong hands digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.
When he’d run his tongue over the most sensitive part of you, your whole body would twitch. Your hips were his handles. Your body bent to his will, careening into his touch.
He sucked gently on your clit, making you arch up high off of the bed. Pressing open-mouthed kisses to your pussy, his tongue found its way down towards your dripping hole.
Leaving not a moment to waste, you gripped his hair by the root, pushing his head in deep enough for the tongue to slide right in – like it was meant to be there.
“Please,” You pleaded. “Mnnnh-”
And, just to tease you, he withdrew, replacing his tongue with two damp fingers. “Feel good, sweetheart?” You heard him murmur softly beneath the sheets.
With a gasp and a desperate rut of your hips against his mouth, against the low vibration of his voice, you sent a message as clear as day.
Yes, yes, yes.
He made no effort to stop you. Instead, adjusting his hands to grip the meat of your ass, he allowed you to shamelessly ride his face. Your hips jumped up and down, rubbing your clit across his lips, his nose, smearing your juices all over his face. You shuddered, opening your legs even further, and arched into him.
Your smooth legs clamped shut over his ears. He huffed a satisfied little laugh before prying them apart and continuing to make a ruin out of you.
Unfortunately, as he was only one man, he had to pull away for some air. He plunged two digits back into you, though, curling them up against that spot that made you purr.
Moving forward to continue lapping at your clit like it physically hurt him to move away from you, he tried sucking in more air without having to stop. You could feel your body dripping for him, dripping down his chin.
You took his fingers so well, sucking them in and then clenching around them like you never wanted to let go.
With a gasp, he pulled back. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You taste so fucking good.”
You carded a trembling hand through his hair, taking some of it into your fist and tugging on it.
“Please,” You begged again.
Though his fingers never stopped, he paused his desperate licking to draw the moment out even longer. He was in perfect tune with the rhythm of your body, every arch, every stutter of your hips spurring him on. He rubbed the point of his index finger over your sweet spot, pulling you apart from the inside. “Use your words, Angel.”
Judging by the way your walls were beginning to spasm around his fingers, fun time was about to be cut short.
What? A man can nut too fast but when a woman does it, it’s different?
Your eyes rolled back, slurred words and broken moans pouring out of your mouth a mile a minute while you struggled to hold on.
Aki dove back into you, parting your lips with his nose and then forming a light suction seal over your clit. He had to readjust himself to fit his fingers and his mouth in such a small space.
You gasped, “Aki, wait, ‘m gonna cum.”
His lips departed from your dripping wet cunt, but only to roughly slide your ass closer to his face. Then, completely disregarding your previous pleas, he devoured you.
“Say my name like that again,” He practically moaned, running his hands up and down your trembling thighs. “Say my name while you ride my face, baby.”
“Mmmfuck– wait,” You gasped. Your body, however, sent a different signal. You yanked his hair – hard, too – and trapped his head between your thighs. Those pretty little noises you were making increased in pitch, and became more frequent. You were near the breaking point, broken pleas of his name tumbling from your devilish lips. “Wait, wait… Aki, baby.”
Aki moaned against your abused clit while his lips and tongue alternated applying pressure on it. The pleasure coursing through your veins was enough to drive you wild. You were getting loud.
Head thrown back, hand gripping his dark tresses like a vice, back arched up off of the bed while the sheets slipped further off of your hips, you knew you were a sight to behold. You tugged the sheets back, getting a good look at him buried between your thighs.
His tongue swapped places with his fingers.
Your guts were clenching around his tongue like you needed more. He removed his mouth from your dripping cunt, allowing his fingers to work you open – an obscene mix of your juices and his spit glistening as it ran down his chin. Somehow, he found the strength to utter the words, “I need you to cum for me.”
He had power over you in that moment, you knew he did. He had you rocking your hips back on his fingers like a desperate whore, chasing that sweet release you so desperately craved. When you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep quiet – because you had gotten a bit louder, to say the least…
“Let me hear you, Angel,” He panted. “Let the whole building know who’s making you feel good.”
And he continued the downright slaughter of your pussy with his mouth this time.
“Fuck, just like that,” you mewled, curling into yourself.
It slipped out. It must have. Yet, still, when his fingers curled up against a particularly sensitive spot with all of the ease of a harpist plucking at the strings of your core, your lips spilled praise of his name. “Aki!”
His smirk only grew. He licked some of you off of his lips, and then hummed, twisting his fingers around. “That’s it, pretty. Such a good girl for me.”
“Baby,” she mewled. “Oh, fuck, cumming!”
The coil of your release snapped, slamming into you at full force. Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while savoring the slow strokes of his long fingers against your gummy walls. You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, ripping trembling gasps from your lungs while you clenched around him.
He slid his fingers out of you slowly, savoring the way your pussy clenched over his fingers one last time before pulling out.
Taking the soaked digits up to his lips, he sucked them clean. The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed higher, the faint strain of muscle beneath his skin catching your attention before you could look away. You tried, but your gaze lingered, and the heat in your face gave you away.
He noticed – of course he did. A small, knowing smile curved at the corner of his mouth before he leaned in, catching your chin in his hand. The world went quiet.
Then he kissed you, his mouth still soaked with your arousal.
It wasn’t gentle, not exactly, but steady – his lips warm, his breath unsteady, the taste of you on his tongue. You could feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your embarrassment mixing with something else entirely as he deepened it just a little, enough to make your head spin.
When he finally pulled back, he didn’t move far. His forehead brushed yours, the air still thick between you, his voice rough when he spoke. “You okay?”
You nodded, breathless.
He smiled again, softer this time, and whispered, “Good,” before kissing you once more.
He stretched once, long and languid. You watched him pull the clothes off the ottoman, slip his legs into his pants, the faint crease of his back muscles moving under his skin, and your stomach twisted in that familiar, fluttering way.
The sight was ridiculous, really – him, completely oblivious to how much you noticed. But you couldn’t help it. He glanced over at you, caught your eyes lingering, and smirked, that faint quirk of his mouth that said he knew exactly what he was doing and enjoyed it.
You shifted yourself upright, reaching for your own clothes, bending slightly to pick them up, tugging your bra and panties into place and leaving your shirt undone for now. The movement felt self-conscious, even though he wasn’t paying that much attention. Or maybe he was, and that thought made your pulse spike.
The faint trickle of water signaled he was already in the bathroom. You padded across the carpet, slipping in behind him. The hotel toothpaste was that weird chalky mint kind, but neither of you cared. You brushed your teeth side by side, elbows almost brushing, and your shoulder nudged his occasionally. It was accidental, but your chest still tightened each time because, fuck, there was nothing casual about it.
You caught his reflection in the mirror – his tie looped awkwardly around his neck, the one you remembered him using to bind your wrists a few hours prior. Then, you caught wind of the marks on your chest, red and prominent.
He was carding his hair back with one hand, adjusting the collar with the other, eyes narrowed in concentration that didn’t match the way his mouth had quirked just for you that morning.
“Here,” you sighed, stepping closer, voice soft. “You’re doing it wrong.”
He didn’t argue, only glanced at you through the mirror, that small, teasing eyebrow raising slightly. His lips curled, half-amused, half-challenging, and you felt that flutter in your chest again. Your fingers brushed his collarbone as you took the tie from him, adjusting the knot.
He hummed softly, a low sound that traveled straight down to your stomach. “Mm, perfect. Guess I owe you,” he murmured, voice rough, almost gravelly.
“Yeah, you do,” you answered, leaning in a little closer than necessary. You couldn’t help yourself. The heat of him standing so close was too much to bear. You felt your fingers brush over his belt buckle as you stepped closer, instinctive, the small tug pulling him toward you.
His lips found yours before you realized what you were doing, soft at first, then a little harder. The kiss carried all the residue of the night before: the small ache, the memory of him so deep inside of you… knowing nothing else would be said. His hand slid to your waist as your own fingers curled around his neck.
You were done, the knot perfect, but he didn’t move away. “All set,” you murmured, brushing imaginary lint off his shirt.
He smirked, one side of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Thanks, rookie,” he said, voice low, teasing, but there was something in the way his chest rose and fell that told you he meant more than just the tie.
You stepped closer, instinctive, catching his belt buckle with your hand, the teasing smirk fading into something warmer, heavier. He met your eyes, the mirror reflecting heat back at you, and then you were kissing him again.
Your hands drifted, his fingers brushed against your sides, and for a moment, it was like the night never ended. In fact, when you shifted your leg against his, you felt a little something else standing at attention like the night never ended.
You grinned, “You’re hard again.”
“You look good in uniform,” He retorted. “I think I like you better without it on, though.”
You leaned closer, closer, until your noses were pressed right up against one another. “Pity we’re running late, or I’d show you.”
Aki’s grin widened, “We’d only be missing breakfast.”
You tilted your head back, teasing him with the faintest brush of your lips, and he hummed low, almost a growl, lips pressing a fraction harder. Your hands found his shoulders, curling into the fabric of his shirt, and you could feel the tension in him, that coiled, slow-burning energy that always made your stomach twist.
With a gasp, you felt your body move – he lifted you onto the bathroom sink, parting your legs and slotting himself in between them.
“You’re not about to break protocol again, are you?” you asked, voice light, teasing, but the heat in your chest betrayed you.
He pulled back just enough to smirk, eyes dark and sharp. “Fuck protocol,” he murmured, and leaned in for another kiss.
What have I started? You thought.
But, for reference, he absolutely did throw caution to the wind with protocol. Right there, up against the bathroom mirror, with your panties pulled to the side.
Himeno and Denji were already there, seated at a corner table by the window. Himeno’s posture was casual, arms folded loosely across her chest, but the gleam in her eyes was sharper than usual. Denji was halfway through a pile of pancakes, oblivious as ever, but his ears perked up slightly when he noticed you, the fork pausing mid-air.
Aki’s hand brushed yours as you walked past him toward the table. It was subtle, almost innocent, but enough to make your stomach tighten and your pulse spike. He smirked down at you, that small, knowing tilt of his lips, and you felt yourself flush.
“Morning,” Himeno said, voice light, almost teasing. She didn’t comment outright, but the way her eyes flicked from you to him – and lingered there – spoke volumes.
You slid into the chair beside Aki, Himeno perched across from you, arms folded casually – but her gaze wasn’t on Denji. It was on Aki. Sharp, calculating.You noticed it immediately, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, the faint curve of a smirk tugging at her lips.
Aki shifted slightly in his seat, catching the look out of the corner of his eye. You felt it too.
He cleared his throat, a small, deliberate sound that made your stomach tighten, and then slid out of the chair.
“I’m gonna get some coffee,” he muttered, voice neutral, though the faint smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He moved with that same slow, controlled grace, each step deliberate, aware that Himeno was watching him, studying him.
Himeno hummed softly, almost to herself, though you were sure it was loud enough for you to hear. “Busy night?” she said lightly, casual in tone, but sharp as a knife in the way her eyes flicked between you and him.
“Late night,” You corrected, “Couldn’t sleep.”
She hummed softly, almost to herself, and tilted her head, letting her eyes linger on you longer than necessary. “You’re awfully… chipper for someone who’s had such a late night,” she said lightly, casual, but the undertone was sharp, playful. Her fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, her gaze flicking between you and the empty space where Aki had just gone to get coffee.
You froze, hiding a flush behind the mug in your hands. “Uh… just ready for breakfast,” you muttered, voice tighter than you intended. Himeno’s smirk deepened, subtle but cutting, and she leaned back, tilting her head with the ease of someone who’d already read every page of your story without you saying a word.
“Where’s Power?” You asked.
“Bathroom.”
On cue, Aki returned with a mug of coffee in hand and slid into the chair beside you, his presence immediately grounding the charged tension that had been simmering across the table. You let out a small, relieved breath, curling just slightly toward him, hiding the residual flush from Himeno’s teasing.
Denji continued obliviously shoveling pancakes into his mouth, eyes occasionally darting around but never quite catching on, while Himeno’s smirk remained faint, sharp, knowing.
A silence fell over the table. Not uncomfortable, exactly, just the kind of quiet that leaves space for thoughts to spiral, for cheeks to warm, for your pulse to hammer.
Then, with all the theatrical timing of someone who’d waited just long enough, Power returned from the bathroom. She paused in the doorway dramatically. “Good risings, mortals,” she announced, voice dripping with mock grandeur. You glanced at her, barely able to suppress a laugh, while Aki’s eyebrow twitched ever so slightly.
She slid into her chair, shoulders back, a faint smirk curling her lips. And then she sniffed. Just once, subtle, but it was enough. Her gaze immediately locked on Aki. “Oh,” she said softly, pointing a single finger at him like she’d discovered a crime scene. “There it is. I smell it. The… mating scent.”
Aki choked on his coffee, sputtering violently into his mug, eyes wide, liquid threatening to spill across the table. Himeno’s smirk deepened, unrepentant, and Denji’s fork froze mid-air, pancakes abandoned as he looked between all of you, utterly confused.
“Excuse me?” Aki croaked, trying to regain composure, coughing through the coffee, glaring at Power but unable to hide the blush creeping up his neck.
Denji, completely missing subtlety, blurted out loudly, “Wait– you two banged?!” Then, he turned to Himeno, “I fucking told you that would happen!”
Aki’s eyes went wide, and without thinking, he kicked Denji under the table with enough force to make him yelp, sending the fork clattering to the floor. “Shut the hell up,” Aki hissed, voice low and dangerous, though it came out more like a strangled growl.
You cleared your throat, trying to rescue the situation, and said evenly, “I’m gonna get a waffle.”
You had never speedwalked so quickly in your entire life.
a/n: happy halloween sluts ;)
creds: i don't own csm obv. the banner was done by the illustrious @mrshayakawaa, who i adore. credits unknown for banner art! if you know pls lmk. x
Summary - A studious, stubborn naturalist is forced to rely on a group of murderous, thieving outlaws. Though when one blue-eyed bandit catches her innocent doe eye, perhaps this survivalist agreement runs deeper than just predator offering haven to prey.
Word count - 7.9k
Content - No use of y/n, afab+femme reader, canon-adjacent, mild spoilers, slight/brief angst, fluff, period-typical sexism
A/N - This is my first ever fic, please be nice, I'm so nervous to post this lol. It is a bit of a shameless self-insert but aren't all the best. This will be a series, I have lots planned, so stay tuned if that's something you'd like to see :)
Credits - Banner images from the red dead wiki and jagwis4u on pinterest. Title is a reference to the song Home Is Where The Moon Is by Rico Del Oro, and the chapter title is a reference to the book The Indifferent Stars Above by Daniel James Brown
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Hypothermia is your main concern, followed very closely by predation from opportunistic animals. Every now and then a wolf will howl at the slim moon, and you jump like a spooked rabbit. The snow crunches under each step, the monotony of it alongside your heaving breaths might drive you mad before the infinite darkness even gets the chance. Regret is eating you alive. If only you’d kept your damn mouth shut. Of course, you had every right to be mad, but as always, you blew up when you should’ve simmered. If only your mother could see you now.
You ascended this god forsaken mountain with six men, all of varying backgrounds but united by science, alongside you, likely their last pick for an investigatory expedition. Since day one they’d hated you for no reason other than the obvious; you were unfortunate enough to be born woman. Excluding you from conversations, delegating the most tedious tasks, and expecting you to do the notetaking were all par for the course in your experiences as a member of the fairer sex in scientific settings. But it truly came to a head this morning, as you sat in your little canvas tent, already dressed for the day ahead, double-checking all your recordings from last night and deciding which direction was the optimal choice to encounter the herd of elk you’d been tracking, when Mr. Kerr yelled out to you from the campfire.
“Where’s our cook?”
You could just imagine him trying to supress his laughter with the others. Despite being the leader of this study, he was unendingly immature. You took a deep breath to steady yourself, already feeling your face grow hot in anger.
“You’ve got two working hands, Mr. Kerr,” you called back, feigning indifference, “I believe they’re capable of preparing your own breakfast.”
A few low oohs resounded the camp site, and you quietly smiled at your little victory, though it wasn’t long before the flap to your tent was torn open and the early morning sun haloed the fuming man before you. It’s brightness bounced of the snow and almost blinded you, adjusting from the low light of the tent.
“Out, now!” He practically barked.
With a huff you closed your notebook and shoved it into your briefcase, taking your sweet time obeying his request. Crawling out and standing up, you placed your hands on your hips and faced him head on, entirely unafraid of his bloated ego.
“Who do you think you are to talk to me like that?” He spat.
“Your teammate, sir.” You answered, maintaining eye contact. You had had this discussion before.
He nodded, eyes burning into yours. From your peripheral you could see the others watching with rapt amusement. To them, this must be the most exciting thing to happen all week.
“And as my teammate, don’t you think you should listen to me?” He challenged.
“I’ll listen when you have something worthwhile to say.”
You could physically see him bristle. His eyes widened, his brow furrowed, and his hands clenched into fists at his side. Clearly your continued defiance had pushed him to his limit (much as his had done the same to you).
“You are out of your depth, girl.” He hissed, looking you up and down like a slab of meat in a butcher’s stall. “Too much of a hussy for the kitchen, too much of a brat for the streets.”
Without even thinking you struck his cheek with your open palm hard as you could. The clap it made settled over the clearing, the others gasping. He stumbled back and held the side of his face, an angry red mark distinctly the shape of your hand quickly raising on the pale skin.
“How dare you?” You seethed, pointing an accusatory finger at him, positively brimming with rage. “I have done more work than the rest of you combined! And you don’t know a damn thing ‘bout me, so don’t go making baseless accusations!”
A few of the other men had stood from the campfire, gingerly making their way over as to not incur the wrath of the lioness currently chewing out their leader for the disrespect they’d all shown you. Mr. Kerr spat on the snow at your feet and sucked in a deep breath.
“Get out.” He said lowly.
You blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Get out! Now!” He grabbed your bag from the tent entrance and tossed it at you. You caught it just in time as to not break the jars inside.
“And go where?” You scoffed in disbelief, poring over the thick woods around you. Maybe you had overreacted, but sending you out into the wilderness was a death sentence. Something you knew he was well aware of.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” He rubbed his swollen cheek. “But you ain’t got no future in this team, you crazed bitch.” One of the other men had come to support him (as if he was going to bleed out from a measly slap, the pathetic manchild).
You looked at the rest of them, either equally as enraged or entirely indifferent to your situation. It suddenly hit you, clearer than ever, how painfully unwanted your presence was. That familiar intruding sense of loneliness and guilt, even in a situation you weren’t exactly itching to be included in, settled deep in your chest.
“Fine.” You said with an air of finality, as if you truly didn’t care that you were wandering into a great cold nothingness. “I’ll be looking forward to your paper in the journals in the comin’ months, since it seems y’all think the results are at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Good luck without me.” You turned hastily, picking up your skirts and marching into the woods. You could faintly hear them whispering behind you, and as much as your heart ached and your brain begged to go back, apologise, your pride would never allow it.
But almost twelve hours later, your pride has all but shrivelled up and died in the falling snow. Your legs burn with effort to push through the fresh pow, your skirts waterlogged with its melt. You’d lost feeling in your fingers and toes shortly after the sun dipped below the horizon. It is so dark; you can’t see your own shivering hands in front of your face. Every few feet you bump into a tree or a rock, but deep down you’re just thankful it isn’t something breathing. The wind picks up and bites at your numb face, sending snowflakes like knives across the skin. Your stomach growls and it almost hurts how hungry you are. You begin to cry, but the hot tears almost immediately cool and are whipped from your face. Bringing torpid hands to cup your eyes and squint into the dark for the umpteenth time tonight, you think you finally see something.
A little orange glow flickers in the distance. You blink, hard. It stays there, pulsing like a heart between the thick trunks of the woods. You gasp (but quickly cough when the cold air seizes your lungs) and begin running as best you can. Your trip on your skirts, fallen logs, the snow itself, but don’t stop moving, scrambling to your feet as quickly as you’d fallen. You don’t dare rip your eyes from the light, deeply afraid to be faced with the pitch-black night again if you lose sight of it. You stumble into a clearing, practically rolling down the hill.
It's a campfire, standing brave outside a quaint dilapidated cabin, bracketed on each side by equally miserable buildings. The absence of the town on your maps doesn’t even register before you scramble to your feet and approach. A lone man stands in front of the fire, poncho flapping in the wind, revealing an intimidating rifle clutched in his hands.
You pass the fence tracing the mouth of the town, adrenaline beginning to drain from your system. “Hello?” You call out, straining to be heard above the roaring gale. “I need help!”
The man’s head snaps to you and brings the gun to his shoulder with practiced efficiency, bringing your pathetic visage to stand in his sights as he steps closer. Your stomach drops and your feet halt.
“Identify yourself!” He yells back.
You tell him your name when he’s finally close enough to not have to bellow over the storm. “I… I’m lost.” You shake, and not just from the cold. He looks mean, scowl set deep on his face with a suspicion you’ve never seen before.
“Javier, who the hell are ya’ talkin’ to?” Another man storms from the cabin, holding his hat to his head.
“A woman.” Javier calls back, not taking his eyes off you.
“A woman?” The man repeats, incredulous, stomping his way over through the snow. Despite the wind, the air feels still and thin in the stare you hold with Javier. This second man, thin whisps of blond hair whipping his red cheeks, claps a hand on Javier’s shoulder. “I’ll be damned, it is a woman!” The excitement in his voice sends a chill down your spine, irrespective of the cold. “Watchu’ doin’ out here, girl?”
You struggle to find your voice, smacking your numb lips together like a fish out of water. The blond man’s moustache deepens into a frown, and he brings one gloved hand to his holster.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” His voice drops a dangerous octave.
“I’m a naturalist.” You spit out, voice shaky, “I’m studying the elk and wolves in these mountains. I got… separated from my team. I’m just looking for some warmth.”
The blond chuckles under his breath, Javier side-eyes him. “’M sure I could show you some warmth, honey.” He must see you gulp, as he laughs even harder.
Javier nudges him with his elbow. “Should we get Dutch?” The two bring their gaze back to you and survey you carefully. You’re sure you must be a sight, shivering in a coat and waterlogged skirts, eyes brimming with tears, holding a leather doctor’s bag to your chest like a child with a teddy.
“Naw, don’t bother the man.” The blonde says, rubbing his chin with an idle hand. “Just send her away.” He gestures to the woods you came from.
Fear immediately clutches your heart, more than the two mysterious men before you, and your legs collapse from under you. “No! No, please, please don’t make me leave. I’m lost, I have nowhere to go.” You drop your bag and clutch your hands together as devout as a nun in prayer.
An air of uncertainty overtakes Javier, but the blond simply looks amused. “Well, you better go and get lost again.”
“I’ll die out there, please.” You hate that you begin to cry. You’d never known humanity to be particularly compassionate, but this was an all-new kind of cruelty. You’d seen a doe’s skin torn from her still-warm body, but those wolves were hungry. You’d seen a chicken choke on its own blood, but the fox had kits to feed. These men, they’re going to cast aside a lone woman in favour of what? Pride? Independence? You can’t imagine why they wouldn’t help you.
“Javier! Micah! What is it?” A third voice boomed through the storm, quickly tearing the duo’s attention from you to the group approaching.
“It’s a woman, sir. Says she’s lost.” Micah duly informs as the three new men come to a halt in front of you. From your sad little spot on your knees in the snow, this loose semi-circle of men stands tall like angels of death in this seemingly never-ending blizzard. You know realistically your fear should double, but something about some of these men seem kinder, softer. The man on the far right, scarf wrapped tight around his neck, snowflakes disappearing in his silver hair, reminds you of your father. He speaks first, lifting the lantern to better see your face.
“What are you doing out here, girl?”
From a kind of primitive trust, you find your voice to answer. You state your name and distantly register the déjà vu, repeating exactly what you had told the others.
He nods, considering you. “How’d you find us?”
Find them? Do they mean their town? Was it purposefully left off the maps? Your confusion must show on your face, as Micah elaborates for him.
“How’d you find this camp, huh? You been following us?” He sneers.
Followed, you think, they’re just as lost in this storm as you, but it seems like they’ve done it on purpose. You shake your head. “No, no! I saw the light of the fire. Please, I don’t know where I am. This town wasn’t on my maps.”
Another man speaks, barking out an order from beneath his thick black moustache. “Arthur, search her.”
The final man, Arthur, donning a thick blue coat and low set gamblers hat, steps toward you. Instinctively you scramble back, gripped with animalistic fear of an unknown man reaching out to you.
“Easy,” he speaks, voice low and hands held in front like calming a wild horse, “I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” His eyes peek from below the rim of his hat, and they’re blue like you’ve never seen blue. Brimming with something so close to pity, but only just identifiable as sympathy. You swallow thickly, but don’t retreat when he squats beside you, gently prying your bag from your cold arms. He clicks the metal buckles open and begins digging inside.
“This is a waste a’ time, Dutch.” Micah leans toward the tall man, whispering in his ear like the devil on his shoulder. “We got enough mouths to feed as is, don’t need no crying chit. That cranky widow was the first mistake, don’t make another. Hell, we should take whatever she has, lord knows we need it more.”
“’Reckon she’s telling the truth.” Arthur interrupts, holding a little jar of elk droppings for the group to observe. Javier and Micah both grimace. “She ain’t got nothing but hair and shit. If you want it so bad, Micah, you can have first pick.”
“Real funny, Arthur.” Micah bites back.
“Enough.” Dutch growls, looking down his nose at you. Your eyes meet and your lip trembles, now not entirely sure if you even want this group’s help. But the wind, the snow, the dark and the cold, they promise nothing but certain death, and these men, with their scowls, their suspicion, their handguns and their threats, hold at least some hope of seeing the morning sun.
“Please.” You almost whisper. It seems to tip Dutch over the edge as he nods in understanding.
“Bring ‘er inside, we’ll figure out what to do with her when this damn storm passes.”
Inside, as it turns out, is not particularly better than outside. The cabin they bring you to is ridden with holes, nearly all the windows smashed through, and full of people crying softly or groaning in pain. And you have never been so grateful in your life.
Arthur gently leads you to a bench in front of the struggling fire, occasionally spitting choked embers at the bare feet of the woman next to you. He leaves you quickly, with nothing more than a hurried ‘you jus’ wait here’ before he’s whisked away by someone else. Absolutely fine by you, the gentle lick of heat initially hurting your cheeks and hands in its intensity but quickly melting into a tepidity that oozes through your veins and into your heart.
From the corner of your eye, you notice the woman shivering. You try not to stare, but her toes are bright pink from the cold, legs covered in bruises and abrasions, and you’ve never seen a stare so vacant. She appears to be dressed in only a nightgown with a thin blanket thrown around her shaking shoulders. The telltale glint of tear tracks on her reddened cheeks is the miserable bow on top. You silently unbutton your coat, slip it from your shoulders and reach to place it on her.
It's like she snaps out of the daze the moment you touch her. “I don’t need your pity!” She snarls, batting your arms away.
You steel your expression and push on; a little hollering never frightened you. “Ain’t offering no pity, but this coat sure would do you some good.”
She stares at you with wide, icy eyes.
“C’mon, we both know you need it a hell of a lot more than I do.” You hold the coat out to her again, and she resigns her gaze to the fire, a quiet yield. With no more words spoken, you drape it over her shoulders and, too, face the fire once more.
The last remnants of the adrenaline you’d been surviving on in the forest finally begin to dissipate in your veins; eyelids growing heavy, limbs weak, mind quietening. Sheltered by four walls and a crowd of warm bodies, the howling wind outside reminds you less of a beast and more of your mother singing you to sleep, rocking you in her arms. You let your eyes slip closed, faintly hearing a murmured thank you before succumbing to your unconscious.
The next day passes quietly, spent curled up by the fireplace, stoking it desperately when it begins smoking more than burning. The conversations that surround you only make you more confused about these people and their past. They speak in hushed tones about the law, Pinkertons, a boat and a mistake. As much as you try to deny it, the reality of your situation is slowly dawning on you; these people are not good news. Saviours, of course, pulling you from the cold harsh grip of death, but not into a sanctuary of warmth like that of a mother’s hug, instead maybe the hot dripping saliva of a cougar’s mouth.
No one seems inclined to speak to you, which you are more than grateful for; to stay as unengaged as possible with this group seems like a good idea. Once the storm lets up, you decide, you’ll make a peaceful goodbye, thank them for their hospitality, and be on your way. But as each day passes, that simple task seems more and more herculean.
The door to the cabin bursts open, followed by a rush of cold air that threatens to snuff the fire you’re as close to as you can be without your skirt catching aflame. Arthur (or Mr. Morgan, as you’d come to calling him) quickly shuts it behind himself, and you watch quietly as he wanders over to the fireplace and tosses another log into its mouth, knees cracking as he crouches. You catch his eye, and despite your initial worry at no longer being considered the fly on the wall you had been very convincingly impersonating, you offer him a meek smile, as if to say ‘please forget you saw me daring to breathe the same air as you all, I promise I won’t remember a single face if once I escape’, he returns his own polite smile that makes your stomach flip, not unpleasantly.
“Y’alright, ma’am?” He asks, standing again.
“Yes, sir, thank you.” You nod, remembering your best manners that mother drilled into you, and return to staring at your feet, not wanting to give him any reason to question you beyond pleasantries. The lack of food and rest doesn’t seem to be bothering him as much as it has you (and everyone else crammed in this rickety shack for that matter), still moving with confidence and ease. Rubbing his gloved hands together he soaks in the little warmth the fire provides, that same confidence catching the attention of a woman you now know as Abigail.
“Arthur…” She approaches cautiously, “How you doin’?”
“Just fine, Abigail.” His deep voice responds, and you’re close enough to feel it vibrate the wood beneath you. “And you?”
Abigail tosses the words around in her head before speaking, avoiding eye contact. “I need you to… I-I’m sorry to ask. But-“
“It’s little John,” Arthur interrupts, “He’s gotten himself caught into a scrape again.”
You’d heard of this John in conversations you were not included in but overheard (entirely on accident, of course), and there appeared to be mixed opinions on his character. Abigail described him as her husband and the father of the little boy you’d seen kicking at dust in the corners, Hosea (who very kindly introduced you to most of the women and a few others you’d been bunking with) treated him as a son, but Arthur appeared less affectionate.
Abigail does not take kindly to his infantilising, her voice beginning to raise. “He ain’t been seen in two…” she steels herself, “two days.”
“Your John’ll be fine.” He half-heartedly assures her. “I mean, he may be dumb as rocks and as dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm.”
You do a very good job stifling your giggle at his description when Hosea intervenes. “At least go take a look.” He says and instructs Javier (who has since apologised for holding you at gunpoint) to join him. Arthur is only convinced to bother with the expedition after some gentle encouragement from Javier.
“I know if the situation were reversed, he’d look for me.” He holds a handgun to Arthur, a physical olive branch. With a sigh, he relents, snatching the firearm from Javier’s hand and checking its load.
“Thank you.” Abigail says with relief, watching the two men step into the snowstorm still howling outside.
“And you.” Hosea turns, lazily gesturing to your little curled up form beside the fireplace as he pulls up a chair. “What’s your plan these coming days?”
You feel multiple sets of eyes land on you, considering, calculating. What was your plan? You are far from stupid, but even further from the nearest town. These people are evading the law, and they seem to have broken a few pretty serious ones too, judging by how low they’re lying. Slip away unnoticed, disappear into the night? Back to square one, death by hypothermia with no one caring to search for your stiff-frozen body. Steal a horse? Also implausible, those rifles they carry aren’t just for show. Besides, despite all your fierce independence with your scientific team, you’re not stupid the fact you can barely survive with a pre-built tent and flint, let alone a bag of notebooks and sample jars.
“Don’t overthink it, miss.” Hosea chuckles, snapping you from your thoughts. “It’s not a trick question, just curiosity.”
“Sorry, Mr. Matthews, I’m just not sure. I don’t know where we are or who I could go to.”
“Well, to start, we’re in Colter.” He leans back and fishes a box of cigarettes from his coat pocket. “Old abandoned mining town, North Ambarino.”
“North?” You ask in disbelief.
Hosea nods, lighting a match and bringing it to his cigarette, cupping his palm to protect it from the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls. “Mm-hmm. You seem surprised.”
“I just… my team and I had been closer to Lake Isabella. I didn’t know I’d walked so far.”
“Well, once the storm clears, we can have someone bring you back there. ‘M sure your team’s worried sick ‘bout you.” He takes a long drag but wheezes a few coughs on the way out.
You cringe internally. “Ah, I’m not so sure. We, uh, didn’t always get on so great.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “That so?”
The silence stretching between you encourages you to elaborate. “Differences in scientific method, is all.”
“Surely not enough difference to leave a woman to die in the woods.” He doubts.
“Scientists are stubborn people, Mr. Matthews.” You throw in a smile for good measure, a desperate attempt to quell his inquiry. The last thing he needs to know of is your penchant for unnecessary arguments; the women here seem to know when to hold their tongues. You imagine your mother saying it now; ‘you could learn a thing or two from ‘em’.
Hosea nods in understanding. “Well, a husband then, waiting for your return?”
You find cringing to be a recurring practice. “I’m yet to wed, Mr. Matthews, and I’m afraid my parents won’t take me back.” You except the usual response from a man of Hosea’s age; poorly concealed judgement, maybe some light beratement, possibly a crude remark indicating you start investigating older men. But instead, he pleasantly surprises you yet again.
“My mistake, miss. In that case, you’re welcome to stay with us ‘til you figure out what it is ya’ wanna do.” He pats your shoulder gently before standing and taking his leave.
You think over his offer for a while, twisting and turning it and inspecting its opportunity. It’s especially kind, but an extended future with this group of mysterious pasts can’t bring anything but trouble. All you need is to get to a town, or at least directions to one. Once there, you’ll bid them all a pleasant goodbye, maybe throw a comment or two about your poor memory and distaste for law enforcement and render this whole situation a memory. You can take the first train home, run to your mother’s awaiting arms and cry into her shoulder, cry that she was right, that you aren’t built for the outside world, you are too obstinate for you own good. You’ll marry the first man she can find willing to wed a woman of your extended age, you’ll provide him with as many babies as he’ll pump into you, and you’ll see your father’s sad eyes watch you throw all your dreams away for a man who sees you as nothing more than a chicken to lay his eggs.
You’re completely unaware of the time that stretches while you daydream about your wedding (it’ll rain that day, better to hide your tears) till a familiar deep voice bellows from outside. Abigail, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Summers rush outside, and your blood-deep herd mentality brings you to your feet to follow.
You hold the door open for them as they help a wounded man stagger to an empty cot against the far wall. Abigail’s thanks are barely heard before she begins reprimanding him with all the love only a wife can. You close the door quietly behind Hosea, Arthur and another man you do not recognise. The three of them huddle in the corner like businessmen in a crowded saloon.
“Have you and Dutch talked about how we’re gonna get out of this?” Arthur questions, fixing the cuffs of his coat.
“I was just discussing with Herr Strauss, when the weather breaks, I suppose we’ll have to keep heading East.” Hosea answers, shaking the snow from his shoulders.
“East?” Arthur exclaims, seemingly offended by such a suggestion. “Into all that… that civilisation?” He practically spits the word, but it effectively piques your interest.
“I know, the West is where our problems are worse.” Hosea says decisively. “Come on, Herr Strauss, let’s get warm.”
As the two older men slip past you, either unaware or uncaring of your eavesdropping, a sharp yelp comes from the cot.
“Careful, woman!” The man, assumedly John, scolds from his position on the cot.
“Oh, shush it, you.” Ms. Grimshaw (an intense older woman who very kindly lent you a blanket, but also openly judged you for not knowing how to effectively sew up the hole in it) chides him like a nanny. “I’m doin’ the best I can with what we got, which ain’t much.”
You pretend to wander closer with no destination in mind and peer over her shoulder. She has a thick sewing needle held up to John’s cheek, which is slashed open in multiple deep stripes, thick blood either already coagulating or beginning to freeze in the cold. One stretches down his lip, threatening to split completely if he continues talking. Another crosses his nose, which is bent at an awkward angle in the centre. His left eye is heavily bloodshot and almost swollen shut. The thread and needle Ms. Grimshaw prepares are clearly meant for clothes, already fraying at the edges and sure to cause complications and unnecessary pain in stitching. The only disinfectant present is a bottle of what appears to be crude rum, already rubbed over John’s wounds.
Your plan of laying lower than a welcome mat entirely slips your mind as you interrupt. “Ms. Grimshaw, please, I have medical supplies in my bag.”
She turns to you over her shoulder and scrutinises you for a moment, and you’re sure you’ve just booked yourself a one-way ticket to an icy grave when she drops the needle on the bench and gestures to Arthur over your shoulder, who you had been entirely unaware of shadowing you. “Mr. Morgan, make yourself useful and get the girl her bag! Why didn’t you say something sooner, huh? Might’ve finally found a reason to keep you around, after all.” She ushers you to swap spots with her, and before you know it, you’re faced with your very first patient since an ill-fated rat in nursing school.
Arthur places your bag on the bench, unlatches it and gestures to it like a grand buffet. You gulp, acutely aware of the many new observers taking interest in the stranger about to stitch up one of their men. With all the false confidence you can muster, you retrieve your medicinal kit and untie it, unrolling it across the bench in all it’s clean, shiny glory (only due to the fact you have never been forced to use it before). Pulling a clean rag from the back, you fold it to a hard corner dipped in the fresh bottle of disinfecting phenol and hesitate before bringing it to the John’s face. His good eye studies you, brow furrowed from suspicion or pain, you’re not quite sure.
“I-I’ll try to be gentle.” You assure him.
“I don’t care ‘bout gentle, right now, just keep me from bleedin’ out.” He hisses.
“John Marston!” Abigail snaps from her place at the foot of the bed. “You show ‘er some respect, or I’ll make damn sure you bleed like a pig.”
You bite your lip to keep from laughing and instead focus on scraping the caking blood from his cheeks. It’s tough work, the edges of his cuts pulling with each rub. You douse the rag in more phenol, softening the crust around his wounds. Finally, you can discern his face from the throbbing wounds you need to somehow hide back under his skin. Arthur must sense your trepidation.
“Looking better already, Marston.” He pokes. “In fact, I’d say it’s an improvement to before.”
“Shut it, you.” John groans. “The hell you hangin’ ‘round for, anyway?”
“Aw, don’t be like that. I mean, it’s not like she can make you look any worse.”
You focus on disinfecting the needle and catgut, letting the boys continue to bicker. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were brothers. Bringing the needle to John’s face, he’s wise enough to quieten down and put on a brave face, but you’re not blind to his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
“Don’t worry Mr. Marston, my patients have a 100% survival rate.” If you’re considering only the first 24 hours. Rest in peace, nursing school rat, you deserved better.
He tenses at the first poke of the needle but handles the intrusion on the other side of the cut much better. You pull, cut and tie the first stitch, and, to your own quiet surprise, are quite happy with the results. You continue up his face, pulling two sides of flesh closed as simply as curtains. Four along the upper cut, six in the lower, and one (very fiddly) stitch to his nose, you exhale and stand up straight, your back creaking in protest.
“I’ll wrap it with dry gauze for now, Mr. Marston, but once the storm lets up, I might be able to find some ginseng and mint, make a poultice and some wet dressings. It’ll help stop an infection; make ya heal quicker.” You explain as you wrap bandages around his head, delicately crossing over his cheek.
John just hums in acknowledgment that he at least heard you, pleasantries clearly not a regular part of his dialect. Luckily, Abigail seems to fill that niche for him.
“Thank you, thank you so much.” She gushes, warm hand on your arm as you tie the bandage off.
“O-of course, it’s the least I could do.” She envelopes you in a hug when you turn, relief positively radiating off her. Resting your head on her shoulder, you hug her back.
The storm, as it turns out, does not let up quickly. You change John’s dressings twice, aid a man named Charles Smith with a severe burn on his hand, listen to a cacophony of gunfire when the able-bodied men go on an excursion and return with piles of food, fistfuls of dynamite and a scrawny man screaming about O’Driscolls he doesn’t know. That certainly solidified your plans to tuck tail at first opportunity.
You’re entirely unaware of exactly how many days had passed when you wake one morning to a blissful silence surrounding the cabin instead of the incessant billowing of wind and sleet. Sitting up from your temporary sleeping quarters (a nook between the fireplace and a broken dresser), you see everyone else still deep asleep. Disentangling yourself from the thin blanket shared with a Mrs. Adler, you tip toe around the slumbrous bodies to the door, avoiding stray limbs with the grace of a feline. The door whines as you open it, but nobody appears to stir. With a thankful sigh you step outside, grateful for your first time truly alone in weeks.
Breathing in the crisp air, deep into your lungs till it pinches at the capillaries and watching the steam billow in front of you upon release, you properly take in your surroundings for the first time since falling into this rag-tag arrangement. It’s an incredibly small town, rivalling that of your own growing up. The sun bounces off the bright snow, twinkling in the beginnings of melt, warming your face. The smell of pine and freshwater fill your senses, and you can hear the symphony of icicles melting in delicate hushes. The air is so wonderfully, reverently still for the first time since that fateful day with your team.
“Finally found your escape, huh?”
You practically jump out your skin, yelping indignantly, Arthur appearing beside you from seemingly thin air.
“W-what? No, no, of course not, Mr. Morgan! I was just, just-“ You scramble for an explanation.
He chuckles, raising his hands in that familiar spooked-horse-calming fashion. “S’alright, ‘m just teasin’.” You must pout like a defiant child because he has the decency to at least try to hide his grin. “How’re ya holdin’ up?”
“Much better now that storm has passed.” You say.
“Ain’t that the truth.” He nods in agreement, staring into the calm morning before returning his eye to you. “Where’d your coat go?”
You look down at yourself, clad in your skirts and vest, arms exposed to the frigid air bar the thin sleeves of your button-down. You are thoroughly underdressed for the circumstances. “I must’ve left it inside, ‘supose.”
He changes the subject, though remains staring at the skin of your wrists. “Heard you was gon’ make some tonic for Marston?”
“Yeah, a poultice to fight off infection.” You clarify, careful not to patronise him. “Need some ginseng n’ mint, but I doubt I’ll find any with all this snow.”
He nods again, considering your words, clearly fiddling with his next statement in his head. “Say, Charles n’ I went huntin’ just the other day and the melt starts only a fifteen-minute ride down. I’ll take ya, if y’want.” He mumbles the last few words.
Your eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“’Course,” He gestures to the hall, “go get your coat and I’ll ready the horse.”
“Horse? Singular?”
Arthur chuckles. “M’not ‘bout to let you ride off with one of our mounts, now. We trust you, but we ain’t stupid.”
You gulp, embarrassed, and nod. Makes sense, you suppose, and he’s completely justified. You probably would ride like the wind to the nearest town once out of eyesight. Re-entering the hall, no-longer tiptoeing as people have begun to rouse, you return to your little corner and find Sadie still sound asleep, wearing your coat, arms wrapped around herself in a tight, lonely hug. Her face is tucked into the neck of your coat, wool shifting with each shaky breath. She looks positively exhausted, bags under bags beneath her eyes, lips bitten raw and cheeks stained with tears. You sigh, tugging the coat and blanket to better cover her, and head out.
Arthur is waiting for you when you return, petting the neck of a tall raven shire, whispering gentle praises.
“Nice horse.” You compliment in your approach.
If Arthur notices your lack of coat, he doesn’t comment. “He’s alright.”
“He got a name?” You ask as he deftly climbs into the saddle.
“Not yet.” He reaches a hand to help you, and you gladly take it. You hope your surprise isn’t evident on your face when he hoists you up with far too much ease, his grip firm but not tight. You sit side-saddle on the horse’s rear, your skirts preventing you from a more stable positioning. “Y’alright back there?” He checks.
“I suppose.” You gingerly hold onto the sides of his coat.
“Actin’ like it’s your first time on a horse!” Arthur laughs, kicking into a trot that has you wrapping your arms around his waist for support.
“First time bareback side-saddle!”
“Ah, you’re alright.” He pets your hand reassuringly and you do a piss-poor job of pretending the friendly solace doesn’t affect you. Your feel your face warm beneath the skin.
The two of you leave town with a nod to Mr. Summers, standing guard by the fence. The ride is peaceful, and mercifully quiet, preventing yourself from any further self-inflicted humiliation. You watch Colter disappear over a hill, wilderness quickly surrounding you and shielding you from the sun’s warm morning rays. You watch as the snow slowly recedes down the trunks of trees until their roots swim through the white pow like snakes in grass as you descend further and further down the mountain. You watch as the first sprigs of greenery emerge from the ground around you, never in your life so thankful for your nose to itch from the dust and pollen kicked up by horse foot.
Arthur slows the horse with a deep easy, now that does nothing to calm your butterflies, bringing the ride to a stop in a sunny glade littered with wildflowers, birds flitting through the air, singing amongst themselves, and a stream trickling idly through the centre. “Reckon you can find what you need here?” He asks, slipping from the saddle and tying the horse off to a low branch.
“This is perfect, thank you.” He reaches for you again, both arms outstretched, and you slide easily into his grasp. Your stomach flips as his gloved hands find purchase on your waist, yours on his shoulders, when he gently lowers you to the ground as though you weigh nothing at all. “Thank you.” You repeat, voice small.
“Sure.” He says turning back to the horse and begins digging through the saddle bag, leaving you to wander into the field. You’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to walk without wading through snow, and you watch the morning dew slide from each blade of grass onto the worn leather of your boots. Some bees spiral from the flowers you brush, and you watch them loop back down to the next batch of petals. You stop at the stream, crouching at the rocky edge and plunge your hands into its icy cold runnings, splashing your face and washing your hands. Despite only being a week or two, give or take, it feels like months of dirt and tears and sweat come sloughing off your skin. It’s positively refreshing.
Reinvigorated, you stand and survey the surrounding greenery, quickly isolating the taller leafy shrubs of mint and delicate stems of ginseng from the surrounding meadowgrass. Meandering over, wasting as much time as possible, you open your bag and pick only what’s necessary, not wanting to completely strip the plant and keep her from blooming again. In no time, you’re humming to yourself, the act of foraging a second nature that soothes your stiff nerves from their lately near-constant trepidation. You’ve almost forgotten your situation, standing up and checking the tree line for any predators like you usually would, eyes skimming like a lone doe, when instead they land on your silent voyeur. Arthur sits, one leg outstretched and the other bent, reclined against the tree trunk his mount is tethered to. He’s got a little leather-bound notebook in his left hand, his right scribbling away with a length of charcoal.
Intrigued, but equally reserved, you wander closer, kicking your feet in the grass loudly to announce your approach. Arthur looks up, watching you near with a calculating eye, and snaps the book shut upon your arrival.
“Whatcha’ writin’?” You ask, feigning disinterest.
He stands with a groan, clearly more affected by the long cold than he lets on. “S’nothin’. You got all ya need?” He gestures to your bag.
You nod, genuinely smiling. The time ‘alone’ had done your frazzled mind good, needing only worry about which leaf was less bug-bitten than the rest instead of which shifty-eyed man might try his luck during your restroom breaks. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Arthur waves you off bashfully, very gentlemanly for a man seemingly under hunt by the nation and helps you onto the horse once more for your journey back to Colter, all too soon for your liking.
Only a few minutes into the ride, while gazing up at the bright blue gap in the tree canopy, Arthur speaks.
“I don’t mean to be crass, but… how’d you become a, uh… man of science?”
You look at the back of his head, considering. It’s a question you’ve gotten more times than you can count, though it’s never been so innocently presented. Usually, a few choice words, maybe a shove or sneer as an accompaniment, but never sincere and unvarnished.
“Are you asking how a woman became a naturalist, Mr. Morgan?” You poke, smile evident in your voice.
“I guess. I didn’t think it was really an option for y’all.” He mutters.
“It’s not. Not really, anyway.” You begin to explain, reasoning that you’ll likely never see this man again in a few days, so what harm is there in a little less secrecy? “My daddy was a real naturalist. Discoverin’ and namin’ all the big snakes down in the bayous and swamps, 'fore he settled down with my Mama as a rancher. Taught me how to tell the age ‘n’ sex of a deer from it’s tracks ‘fore I learnt how to spell my own name. Had more snakeskins hangin’ off my bedroom walls than paintings! Mama was never too happy ‘bout it, said all the huntin’ ‘n’ campin’ made me unladylike, harder to marry off ‘n’ all that. Imagine her surprise when I left home not only without a man, but to join a naturalist society, thanks to my daddy’s connections. Nearly killed her, I swear. ‘Bout yelled the roof down; you ain’t welcome back here, you’re gonna end up all alone, she said, ain’t no man want a woman smarter than ‘im. Suppose that much was true. My most recent team, they weren’t exactly a feminist bunch. Kicked me out after I refused to make ‘em breakfast.” You chuckle, but it’s devoid of humour.
Arthur nods and sighs. “Sounds about right… so you not only went against your family, but what ol’ Uncle Sam wanted of ya, too.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Looks like you fit in here more than you realise.” He smiled, looking at you over his shoulder. Your gaze catches his, crows’ feet meeting wide owl eyes. It feels like a genuine connection, for one fleeting moment. A hair thin tether between two bodies so opposed in everyday, now closer and tighter than ever, under the dappled late morning sun surrounded by nothing but birds and bramble.
“Maybe I do.” You placate him, not loving the idea of being compared to his company but flirting with the notion he might see you as more than just a damsel in distress. “Humour me, Mr. Morgan. What’s your favourite animal?”
“What?”
“Your favourite animal, what is it? You can tell a lot about a man by what animal he likes most.”
“Turkeys are pretty tasty.”
“Oh, you know what I mean!”
Arthur is quiet for a long while once he finished laughing at his own joke, and just when you think you’re not going to get a response, he speaks again.
“I like dogs, I guess. And horses.”
You nod. Both obvious answers, you think, men tend to like animals that serve them. Then he surprises you.
“Deer, too.”
Now that is an unusual pick. A man, picking a prey animal? And a fairly unassuming one, at that. “Interesting. Can I ask why?”
Arthur shrugs, as if he hadn’t spent multiple minutes considering his answer. “’Dunno… I mean, I know they’re just ‘bout everywhere, and most of ‘em are as sharp as a bag of wet leather, but they can be real dangerous when they wanna be. Get em cornered and them antlers suddenly look a lot more serious. And when ya’ find one just standin’ on it’s own, and it lifts it’s head to look at’chu, it looks almost… regal.”
You cock your head, staring at him as if your gaze could penetrate right through his skull and inspect the startlingly pretty thoughts inside directly. “That’s real nice, Arthur.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Go on, then, what’s yours.”
“There’s so many to choose from! Goodness, I love any big cat, ‘specially all of them with spots and stripes. S’ a dream to see one in real life, though, preferably without gettin' mauled. And I must admit, I do have a soft spot for wolves, but I s’pose, at the end of the day, it’s bears that have my heart.”
“Bears!?” Arthur exclaims.
You laugh at his surprise. “Yes, bears! Black, brown, all of ‘em. But grizzlies gotta be my favourite.”
“Why on Earth do ya like bears? Damn things scare the life outta me.”
You laugh and hold onto him tighter for support. “They’re beautiful. Ain’t no other meat-eater as big and as mean as ‘em. But they’re not all brawn, they can be real smart, too. Watched one open a can of peaches, once. And once you get past the teeth and claws, they’re actually quite pretty, if you look close enough.”
Arthur laughs, a real hearty laugh that shakes his shoulders. “I don’t think I want to get close enough to see.”
“Oh, shush, you.” You playfully smack him in the side. “Besides, if you’re that close, you’ll smell him before you see him.”
“I think you’re describing Uncle, now.” He teases, and you laugh in turn.
The conversation simmers to a natural still as the horse re-enters the sunlight, surrounded once more by the rolling fields of snow. The silence is comfortable, and a warm coiling in your stomach notifies you that for the first time since you left home all those years ago, there might actually be a shoulder to lean on besides your own.
Thank you so much for reading! Also, please leave a comment, like, reblog, I don't mind, just something to let me know you've read it (and maybe even liked it hehehe)
⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.
In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.
pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader
genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut
warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.
rating: 18+
word count: 11k oof
A/N: HELLO GUYS!!!!
Ooof I rushed to finish this one and it got SO FUCKING LOOONG. It took a little longer than expected, but as I said on Tumblr, my pregnant sister was hospitalized this week. Not only did I accompany her hospitalization but I was also not in the mood to write lol but everything is fine now! She was discharged and the baby is safe. My lil niece wanted to be a pisces real bad for some reason lmaooo not yet bbygirl stay there a little longer 🤚
Also!!!!! Dear reader Em made this incredible art of Ruby!! I got so shocked what 😭😭 someone was willing to make art of a fic of mine?? That's so cool!! Ruby looks so hot in their interpretation!! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU EM 🫂🫂🫂 @anesthesia-4rizzle
Anyways, let me shut up this chapter is already long enough lol Enjoy!! <3
⤕ Chapters: check masterlist in bio! ⤕ Also on AO3
The scepter was lifeless yet again when you took it in your hands.
You didn’t really want to, scared of it starting to burn once again. Now that adrenaline had completely ran off, you understood that Alucard was right; you had, in fact, some sort of fever. Your forehead was covered by a thin layer of sweat and you felt unexpectedly hot, given the chilly night air. Your limbs also felt strangely weak as if you’d done some tiring exercise.
And your chest…
You remembered how your chest – your heart – seemed to burn with these three dead vampires, too. Burning you from within.
You wondered if you’d have burned with them if you kept holding it for much longer.
To your great relief, nothing strange happened when you touched the scepter again. It was exactly on the same spot you had dropped it.
Alucard knelt down near the burnt bodies. Smoke still steamed from them. He had a deep, serious frown in his face.
“Did you read the inscriptions of the scepter out loud?” He asked. You shook your head.
“No.” You looked down as Alucard got up and approached you again. “I didn’t do anything. I was just… scared. And angry.”
Alucard observed the scepter with the same frown. He touched the sun symbol softly.
“It’s still warm.” He mumbled to himself. “This scepter, for some reason, seems to be reacting to your feelings.”
You lifted your gaze to his face for the first time in a surprised expression.
That made a lot of sense.
You were frightened when you first held it. Your head was running with similar intense emotions when this strange reaction happened again. Maybe he was right… the scepter needed to be fueled by strong emotions to release its magic, whatever it was. Perhaps it didn’t even need to be you specifically, but anyone going through something similar.
You inhaled before asking – and Heavens, were you tired of asking this same question over and over again:
“Do you have any idea of what might’ve happened?”
You weren’t brave enough to look down at the corpses again, but Alucard got the message.
He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment; his shoulders dropped a bit as he crossed his arms. He looked frustrated.
“I hate not knowing what’s happening as much as you do,” he confessed. “But this doesn’t feel like Speaker magic, although we’ll have to check with a real Speaker before jumping to conclusions. And it’s not fire, either.” He pressed his lips together in a thoughtful expression. “It is Sun. The scepter either has the ability to somehow store sunlight, or it can replicate it.”
You nodded. There was no other explanation: the vampires burned as if they were, indeed, standing under the sunlight. You had seen Richter’s fire magic; although it was unnaturally blue, his flames weren’t different from regular fire. They burned, but they didn’t provide light as much as the scepter did at that moment.
Alucard held his chin. He looked at nowhere in particular.
“Sekhmet is the daughter of the Egyptian Sun god, Amun-Ra. She’s related to the Sun in many ways.”
You looked down at the scepter again.
“Do you think this belonged to her?”
He narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t look Egyptian. You didn’t find it at the Egyptian gallery, either. Though it might not mean much, since the palace wasn’t all too well organized.” He dropped his arms to the sides of his body once again. “Didn’t you say you were translating the writings to our alphabet? Can I have a look at it?”
You hesitated.
The paper was safely folded and stored inside the pocket of your vest. It was the first thing you took from the floor as soon as you stepped into the alley. You wrote it with the intention of Alucard reading it in the first place.
And yet – you didn’t want to show it anymore. At least not at that moment.
Your mind was burning, and it had nothing to do with magic this time. You were overwhelmed by a number of different things; the strong emotions you felt, this new discovery involving the scepter, the sheer frustration of not knowing exactly was going on with you…
...And the hug. Heavens, the hug.
You had stopped crying. Adrenaline had ran off. Now you could think with clarity – and the more you thought about the intimacy you shared with Alucard mere minutes ago, the more embarrassed you felt. Not because you didn’t like it… well, perhaps you felt this way because you liked it.
Why were you feeling that way? It wasn’t the first time Alucard witnessed your vulnerability first hand. Oh… in fact, that was the reason. He had witnessed this vulnerability too many times in the span of 24 hours.
You felt weak. You felt like a nuisance. You felt like a child that had to be taken care of constantly.
That is not how you wanted Alucard – or anyone for that matter – to perceive you. But how could that be different when all you did the entire time you’d met them was getting hurt?
You desperately needed to avert his attention elsewhere. You needed him to stop looking at you for a moment, to focus somewhere else; you wanted to slide away from his view, to be nothing but an afterthought at the back of his mind. His gentle gaze burned. His soft touch burned. His scent which already permeated your clothes burned. Everything about him burned.
It burned in a different way than it did with Drolta or Erzsebet, however – because you didn’t hate him. Not at all. Alucard had shown nothing but respect and worry towards you.
And yet, it burned anyway, was overwhelming anyway, and that was disorienting. That was scary. You didn’t feel like you had the right to like it.
So you avoided his gaze once again and held the scepter tightly.
“Did everything go well with the Revolutionary Commune?” You asked in a quiet voice.
“...Yes,” Alucard clearly did not understand why you changed subjects so suddenly.
You nodded. “So I think this can wait for now. Can’t it?”
Alucard hesitated once again. “Ruby…”
“Please.” You reunited all of your will to not sound fragile anymore. You were tired of being fragile. “Erzsebet and her army are coming to Paris. This entire city needs to prepare. I know you already wasted way too much time with me. We should focus on what’s more important now.”
“You’re not a waste of time, Ruby.”
Your heart tightened.
Please, don’t be so kind to me. Don’t make me feel this way right now.
“B-But I’m right anyway. You know I’m right. Whatever is going on with me or this scepter – it’s not relevant anymore, not now that they retrieved the mummy.”
He kept silent for long seconds, which made you hold your breath with apprehension. Finally, Alucard sighed.
“Alright. We should go.” You almost sighed in relief. “Their headquarters have plenty of accommodations where you can rest in–“
“No!”
You finally looked at him again. You didn’t expect to blurt that out like this, but it escaped anyway. Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You already felt heat creep in your cheeks.
“I don’t want to rest, I want to help. I’m not tired.”
He tilted his head to the side only slightly. A tiny, not-so-focused part of your brain remarked that this little quirk of his made him look like a curious owl. “You haven’t slept properly in three days and you have a high fever.”
“You haven’t slept, either. And the fever’s cooling down.” Why did they still insist in worrying about your physical condition? You shook your leg impatiently. “There must be something I can do, right? Anything.”
Anything to stop me from thinking about my healing condition and my unknown past and this strange scepter and my fear of being taken by Drolta again and remembering my old scars and to stop myself from wishing you’d hug me again right now and never let me go.
Alucard didn’t look sure about that yet.
You felt apprehensive and nervous and impatient.
You scooped the floor with your eyes quickly. Stepping away for a moment, you grabbed something on the floor before running towards him again.
You lifted the red string to his eye level.
“Do you still have yours?”
Alucard blinked. Then, he let another tired sigh and… smiled. That tiny smile he let slip when he thought you were acting funny.
He took his piece of red string from inside his coat.
“Care to help?”
You leaned the scepter on your chest, letting it go for a while, and took the string in your hands. You tied it around his right wrist while remembering that he could tie it himself very well – he had shown he could before – but chose to ask for help anyway and- well I guess this doesn’t mean anything.
Alucard tied your red string around your right wrist, too.
He held it softly for a second longer than necessary.
“If you feel anything strange, let me know.” Alucard asked. You nodded.
“I will.”
He patted your shoulder softly. “Come on.”
You followed him shortly, relieved that he wasn’t looking at you anymore – and, at the same time, desperately wishing he was.
In less than two hours, the peaceful Parisian night descended into chaos.
Multiple guards ran through the streets on horseback, spreading the warning in loud voices, awakening the citizens from their sleep. Windows and doors were opened, confused and dazed heads peeking from them, trying to understand what was happening. The urgency of their voices made hearts beat faster and apprehension fill the air. Husbands locked their wives inside their houses; mothers tried to calm down their scared children.
Their message was clear: every healthy man was being summoned to defend the city.
Soon, the Place de la Concorde was packed with a confused crowd. They wore a strange mix of pajamas and coats to protect them from the chilly night air; most faces, still puffy from sleep. Confused and anxious conversations hovered over the crowd. Mere hours ago, the last king of France had been executed on that same square. The platform of the guillotine was still set up. No one expected that another historical – and apocalyptical – event would unravel so soon.
At last, Robespierre stood up on the platform, and the entire crowd went silent. You didn’t know exactly who that man was, but he was certainly very respected.
“My brothers and sisters,” he started, his voice rising over any other. “I summoned you all here tonight to bring appalling news. Yesterday, we won one more battle against the monarchy that chained us under their feet for years. Today, we face another great enemy. Our city is being threatened by foreign forces that want to lock us in chains once again…”
You doubted this Robespierre had any idea of who Erszebet Bathory truly was, but he wasn’t far from the truth… at least when it came down to you. The most positive side of you hoped the Vampire Messiah would forget about you now that she retrieved Sekhmet’s mummy (as morbid and wrong as it sounded), but another part of you was almost certain that she wouldn’t… be it for a plausible reason or her plain possessiveness over you. Erzsebet didn’t like to lose anything. She was like a spoiled kid who never let go of her favorite toy… and you’d been Erzsebet’s favorite toy for as long as you could remember.
You zoned out for a moment, not paying attention to much of Robespierre’s speech. Every pair of eyes was focused on him. Men and women, curious teenagers, homeless children – in fact, there were homeless people of all ages… their eyes filled with growing apprehension and fear of the menace the man on the platform described. If Erzsebet and her court succeeded, there were little chances of hope for them. Erzsebet would rejoice in their fear. She would bathe in the blood spilled. She would murder the ones she deemed unattractive and feed on the women she deemed attractive; she would “share” with her court. She would turn the ones she deemed worthy into vampires against their will. The men would either serve as entertainment or as slaves for manpower. Then, the ones that survived would learn to not fight and not scream and not cry.
You knew the patterns very well.
No one should go through any of that. As much as you wished peace for yourself, as much as the incoming battle frightened you – the mere idea of being anywhere near Erzsebet or Drotla again and the understanding that they could and would take you back if everyone failed made your limbs go cold -, there was another feeling growing within you, too.
Anger.
It had always been there. Every second in Erzsebet’s presence was torture. You never respected her. You never felt any sympathy for her. You never thought she had any sort of quality at all. You knew that there was a time when your quarters were a literal cell in her palace’s underground, your clothes were rags, your food was just bread and water if there was any food at all. When you became docile and Erzsebet granted you privileges – a proper room, good food, beautiful gowns and jewels, compliments and compliments – your anger towards her did not decrease one bit. You never felt blessed or thankful over any of those “privileges”.
You were always so busy trying to simply survive the torture that this fire didn’t have time to spread. Three days away from them was all it took for it to burn in every corner of your soul.
You weren’t just angry. No, you hated her. Hated them. Every vampire from her court was as awful as her. You hated their smell and you hated how they had no respect for human life and you hated their pompous attires and parties and you hated the fact that you had to sit and watch as they killed hundreds of innocent humans in front of you, not having the power to do anything to stop them.
They had to pay.
You weren’t as strong as Annette or Richter or Alucard. You didn’t even know how to hold a bayonet or wield a sword. And yet, if there was anything you could do to help these people defeat her army, then you would.
“…We will not subject to anyone who wants to imprison us!” Robespierre boasted. The crowd cheered; fear and apprehension were replaced by rage and motivation in front of your eyes as the man’s speech progressed. Fists raised in the air, screams and whistles of support popped here and there. “We will not allow any self proclaimed queen to sit on a throne atop of us again! We will not allow anyone to take our liberty away from us!”
Robespierre made a long pause, eyeing the crowd in all directions. It seemed that everyone held their breaths in anticipation.
Then – he raised his fist in the air.
“This self proclaimed queen will feel the taste of our iron and the weight of our freedom! Woe to the one that stands in our way. We will fight!”
The crowd exploded in cheers.
More and more fists raised in the air, mirroring their leader. Vive la Révolution!, they chanted.
You had to admit – Robespierre was great at giving speeches. You felt motivated yourself.
A sigh by your side caught your attention.
Alucard didn’t look very impressed. His golden eyes were as hard as stone. Underneath the severity of his expression, you also saw a slight hint of annoyance.
“What’s the problem?” You asked hesitantly.
Alucard took a second to answer. He narrowed his eyes.
“I just don’t appreciate hypocrisy.” It didn’t look like he wanted to elaborate on that statement. “Come. We have to act before the heat of the speech vanishes.”
Indeed – the “heat” of the speech spread like true fire through the city, being carried by anyone that witnessed it. The Revolutionary Army took the lead, its generals reuniting to trace defensive strategies.
And yet, none of these generals seemed to have the same level of authority Alucard had.
You watched from the back of the room, almost hidden (yes, you said you wanted to help, but at that moment you were the only woman present in the middle of soldiers and that was quite uncomfortable because you attracted a lot of attention for some reason) as all these generals listened to anything Alucard had to say. You didn’t know exactly what the white-haired vampire had done to gain their respect so quickly, but apparently, his first introduction left quite the impression.
Alucard was soft spoken. He didn’t raise his voice in any moment, keeping the same usual quiet but deep and husky tone – and that seemed to be much more effective than screaming, because it forced everyone else to be quiet. Whenever he spoke up, silence filled the room. It seemed no one had the courage to argue with him, though everything Alucard proposed was highly intelligent and you’d have to be a fool to disagree.
You doubted any of these men had been in the presence of a vampire before. Probably never talked to one, at least. However, it seemed that everyone understood that they weren’t talking to a simple man. Standing in the middle of these humans, it became even more clear how Alucard stood out, and not just in appearance. That was the intellect and way of speaking of a person that had lived much, much longer than the human brain could process. It seemed that everyone could feel it, even if they didn’t know Alucard’s true age. He exuded quiet authority, unyielding and highly intelligent. Once again, it reminded you of a mountain. It is silent, has been there for thousands of years; no one can move it.
Alucard looked very noble.
You remembered Richter’s words at the forest. Well, he does look like a prince.
You were glad his attention wasn’t upon you at that moment. You wouldn’t have been able to hide your awe very well if it was.
Around an hour later, the soldiers left the building to spread the strategies. What they needed the most, counting on the collaboration of every citizen:
Salt.
A lot of salt.
Sacks, boxes and buckets of salt were brought to the streets. The army provided weapons – swords, knives, rifles, gunpowder, bayonets and even cannons which were carried to the entries of the city. Every weapon should be wiped with salt.
You busied yourself with that.
Without asking permission, you knelt down in front of a crate full of swords, pulled a bucket of salt closer and started the process of applying salt to the blades. Then, you put the “salted” ones into another empty crate.
It was an obvious task, but it ended up calling more attention than you expected… maybe because, again, there weren’t many other women around the headquarters of the Revolutionary Commune. Most women and children were being led to the outskirts of the city or locked inside houses that had basements as part of the evacuation tactics. You vehemently ignored the looks sent in your direction and just kept working.
Some moments later, you noticed that a young man started imitating you. He sat on the sidewalk and took a crate of weapons himself.
And then another man joined.
And then an older woman.
You heard her husband try to shush her back home, but she sent him an annoyed look.
“I won’t sit down and watch everyone fight. If there’s something I can do, then I’ll do it.” She retorted. He wasn’t brave enough to argue with her any further.
You were glad someone else shared this feeling.
It seemed to awaken some sort of camaraderie in that street, at least. Before, only the men that intended to fight were busy with the preparations. Then, you started to notice more people joining in; women and elders. They brought water, food, fruits, helped carrying crates from place to place.
Hours went by. You busied yourself with many other tasks after all the weapons were ready. The situation was beyond serious, but it was… nice. It was nice to be so busy doing something that you didn’t notice hours passing by. It was nice to help others. It was nice to not feel so useless for once. Under imprisonment, you didn’t have much to do other than sleeping. You weren’t used to this feeling of being so focused on a task that you could somehow brush your worries to the farthest corner of your mind, at least for some hours.
The sky got clear, but there was still much to be done. You only stopped for some minutes to eat an apple before going back to work.
“Aren’t you tired, mademoiselle?” One of the soldiers asked. He was probably around Richter’s age, which made you remember him and hope he was safe – but the similarities stopped there. This boy, Henri, was shorter and not even close to being as muscular as the Belmont. Curly ginger hair fell over his forehead; his fair skin was peppered by freckles.
“I’m fine. Thank you for worrying,” you dismissed politely.
“Are you sure?” Another young soldier asked; his name was… Charles? Yes, you thought that was it. His hair was black and he was a tiny bit taller than Henri. “You’ve been working the entire night, mademoiselle. You should rest.”
“I don’t get tired easily,” you dismissed again, smiling awkwardly.
“Do you want water? Do you want to eat?” Another soldier asked… what was his name? You didn’t remember this one. “Please, if you need anything at all, let me know.”
“L-Let me know, too,” Henri, the ginger, intervened. Why did he send this other soldier a slightly annoyed look? “Actually, I asked her first.”
“And? I’m just worried about mademoiselle’s well being.”
“I am more worried than you are.”
“I doubt it.”
You slipped away from them quietly before they could notice.
Well.
The men here seemed to be very eager to protect you.
All the attention you were receiving was awkward. You weren’t used to so many people wanting to talk to you. Especially not men. Erzsebet never let any men get too close to you for some reason. The guards that kept your quarters and dragged you to places weren’t allowed to talk to you.
These soldiers were… nice in an odd way.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to consider the intentions behind their kindness, because every time you looked at them, you thought of how low their chances of survival were.
You knew Erzsebet’s forces. She had many powerful vampires under her control, not to mention the night creatures. The Vampire Messiah herself was enough of a threat; whenever she summoned Sekhmet, it seemed that air got heavier, as if the atmosphere around her submitted to her power. You couldn’t even imagine how powerful she would be after reuniting with the second half of her soul…
The human forces, on the other hand…
A bunch of civilians wearing soldier uniforms didn’t make them real soldiers. And in between the soldiers, there were barely any warriors. Warriors have expertise in real battle. Warriors carry in their eyes and in their postures the readiness to kill – not because they like it, but because they understand that in order to keep, sometimes you have to take. A real warrior is easily spotted in a crowd.
Other than Alucard? There were barely any.
You doubted many of these men had ever killed a chicken, let alone a vampire.
You tried to be positive, but it was impossible as you distributed more uniforms on the street and analyzed the “soldiers”. A big line was formed in front of you. Smiley man after smiley man. You handed them the uniforms, trying to smile back, but it was quite impossible. Not muscular enough. Not enough callouses. This man is frightened. This man has no idea what he’s getting himself into. This man has awful posture. This man won’t last a second in the battlefield. This man… why did he wink at me?
It was so, so bad.
Maybe if the city had time to actually prepare, to reunite a real army instead of counting on its citizens last minute… maybe they’d have a chance then. Hell, you were trying to be positive, trying to not be frightened, but it was getting hard…
The sound of someone cleaning their throat caught your attention.
You lifted your gaze once again to an unknown man. He was short, wore simple clothes and had a lot of hair missing… but a kind smile adorned his features – kinder than most of the men that stood in front of you, actually.
You forced yourself to smile back and handed him another uniform. The man took it in his hands and inhaled.
“Mademoiselle,” he started, and it somehow caught the attention of the other men that stood nearby. None of them had really spoken to you, just resigning themselves to saying ‘thank you’ and leaving the line. “Y-Your efforts into helping all of us and your kind smile will be what fuels my courage in the battle to come.”
Completely taken by surprise, you froze and stared at him for some seconds.
“Uh… thank you,” your smile got awkward again. Why was everyone looking at you? That wasn’t very comfortable. “I-I mean– I am glad to be an incentive for you to fight, b-but your biggest motive should be to protect your freedom, isn’t it?”
The man got speechless for some reason.
Oh. Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
You already felt your fingers shaking and your heart beating faster with embarrassment–
“Beautiful!”
What?
Another man behind in line said loudly. Why were his eyes glowing as he looked at you?
“Beautiful words!” He started clapping.
What?
“You are right, mademoiselle! What encouraging words!” Another man boasted.
“We are fighting for the liberty of our country!”
“Vive la Révolution!”
And then they were all chanting with their fists in the air.
You stood there with your mouth opened, not understanding what the hell just happened. Beautiful words? Weren’t you stating the obvious? You just wanted to take his attention away from you. Why did they all get so excited all of sudden?
What was wrong with these men?
But then, a familiar voice caught your attention, making you forget about the entire embarrassing situation completely.
Richter’s voice.
You turned around to see him and Annette approaching at fast steps.
Immediate relief washed over your body.
You looked around. The line was still pretty long… oh! There was Henri. You waved at him, and the boy approached like an excited puppy. “Would you take my place? Thank you,” you didn’t wait for him to reply, however, not did you notice that the other men waiting in line didn’t really like that you ran away from your position.
You met each other on the sidewalk.
“Are you guys okay? Did you get hurt?” You blurted out immediately as soon as you got close enough. Both of them looked tired, but other than that, no injuries.
“How are you asking that?” Richter seemed to be in disbelief. “Last time we saw you, you were bleeding to death. Are you okay?”
You instinctively looked down at your own body and extended your arms, as if to show them that there were no wounds.
“I’ve healed,” you said with simplicity. Because it was that simple, and you didn’t understand why they didn’t understand that yet.
It didn’t seem to ease any of Annette’s guilt.
That was what you wanted the least.
The girl in yellow dropped her shoulders, the corners of her mouth turned downwards.
“I am so sorry, Ruby,” her voice was somewhat shy. “Because of me, you got hurt. I… I should’ve been more careful…”
She looked up at you again when you rested your hand on her shoulder hesitantly.
You weren’t good with physical touch, but that seemed appropriate at the moment.
“That’s not what happened.” You started in a calm voice. In fact, that was the most level headed you’ve ever heard yourself… where was that coming from? “I jumped in front of you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. I did it. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.”
Annette seemed a bit surprised by your actions. Well, you were surprised, too. But it seemed to ease whatever she was feeling, even if just a bit; she managed to offer you a tiny smile.
Richter put his hands on each side of his waist and looked around with a frown. “The city is in chaos. What happened?”
“Robespierre called for all citizens to join battalions in their neighborhoods.”
This new voice startled you slightly.
You hadn’t noticed Alucard approaching. You knew he was close – in fact, he stood somewhere around you the entire time; Alucard himself was too busy, but he was always somewhere in your field of view, although you didn’t really interact the entire time.
“Legions of volunteers are taking positions around the city,” he concluded. It was interesting how his voice became just a tiny bit less dull now compared to when he talked to soldiers or other unknown people.
“Do you think they’re ready for what’s coming?” Richter asked.
Alucard hesitated.
You exchanged a knowing look.
They weren’t. He knew it. You knew it. But… that was all you had for now.
He looked back at Richter with his eyebrows slightly turned upwards. “...An impassioned speech can make even the weakest man believe he’s brave.”
There was no better way to describe the current situation.
Richter and Annette eyed each other. The Belmont boy seemed to hesitate for a moment and cleared his throat as if building up courage – and then you remembered that the last time he saw Alucard, they weren’t exactly on good terms.
“So… I know things didn’t work out at the Louvre, but maybe all isn’t lost.”
Alucard quirked one eyebrow up. You held your breath in anticipation.
“I have a plan, and I think it’s going to work,” it was Annette’s turn to speak.
“If we work together,” Richter concluded.
The white-haired vampire observed them in silence for some moments, while the three of you looked at him in anticipation back.
Finally, he closed his eyes for a moment and nodded.
“Very well. What’s your plan?”
The Tailleur de Jordan was a small establishment you had hidden your scepter the night before, just two streets away from there. As the citizens were being evacuated, places like that were empty and ready to use. It would be perfect for what Annette needed to do – though it immediately filled you with worry.
“That was what the spirits were trying to tell you?” You asked.
Annette nodded. “...I believe so. It’s difficult to be certain about anything, but this is the best chance we have.” Alucard unlocked the door and stepped aside. Annette walked in first. “This will do,” she stated after a quick look.
The tailor shop was small. It had a couple of chairs, a large windowsill, a table, a desk, cabinets filled with all types of fabric in multiple colors, threads, needles, scissors… it had somewhat of a cozy atmosphere. You hoped whoever owned it was somewhere safe – and you hoped they’d survive the incoming battle to take this place back.
As the two men pushed furniture from the center of the room, you rushed to find Annette some chalk. When you turned around to hand it to her, she was eyeing the scepter with curiosity. It was leaning on a table in the corner of the room, exactly where you left it.
She looked at you with one quirked eyebrow.
“...It’s hard to explain,” you said.
Annette shrugged and took the white chalk from your hand.
She knelt on the floor and started to draw an intricate symbol you’d never seen before. It resembled a fleur de lis, though it was much more complicated. After she finished, she put the chalk aside and sat in front of it with crossed legs.
Then, she took a deep breath.
“My soul may be away from my body for a while,” she explained quietly.
Richter folded a piece of fabric and placed it behind her, offering Annette a gentle smile, before sitting by her side on the floor.
“Just in case.”
She reciprocated his smile.
You sat down on a chair in the corner of the room beside the scepter, watching the entire scene in silence. Alucard stood near them in the other side of it.
Annette looked down again. For the first time, you saw a hint of fear in her eyes… and you felt fear for her, too. She was going to walk into a path where no one could follow or help her. She’d be truly alone in this – and if she failed, then you’d really have no chance. You already knew the “army” out there was hopeless.
“Cécile always warns that our souls mustn’t get lost in the spirit world,” she explained in that same quiet tone.
“What happens if they do?” Alucard asked.
“...I will never wake up.”
Richter gasped.
He rested his hand over hers. And then… it was happening again. That intimacy they shared that made you feel like an intruder. It seemed that, in these moments, they were alone – but in a delicate, pure way; it wasn’t as if they were ignoring you and Alucard. They were simply… too lost in each other to care about anything else.
It was beautiful to witness, in a way.
“We’ll be here. Don’t be afraid.” Richter’s voice was barely a whisper. “Maybe it’ll help you find your way back.”
They exchanged a final sweet look before the Belmont moved away.
Annette inhaled deeply. She pressed her hands together in a praying position and closed her eyes before chanting something in a language you didn’t understand.
She chanted a few times. Her voice got slower. She opened her eyes – but they seemed empty.
“Annette?” Richter called.
She stopped talking. Her body stopped moving. Her chest moved almost imperceptibly – the calm breathing of someone asleep. Her eyes were opened, but she wasn’t seeing anything anymore.
Her soul was gone.
It was a chilling sight to witness.
Richter held her hand. He knew she wasn’t there anymore, but he kept repeating “I’ll be here” anyway.
The care he had for her was deeper than you first assumed…
You crossed your arms and rested your back on the chair. It wasn’t going to be a fast process. So… there was nothing you could do but wait.
Wait…
And wait.
A part of Sekhmet’s soul must be in the spirit world, Annette had explained. If I find it and retrieve it, we may have a chance.
A third part of Sekhmet’s soul…
If Annette was right, than it’s impossible that Drolta didn’t know about it already. She was the goddess’ priestess, after all. Could it be that she tried to retrieve this third part of Sekhmet’s soul before? Maybe it was impossible for her, as it was a spiritual journey, not physical. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t succeed and kept looking for Sekhmet’s mummy.
Time went by. Minutes turned to an hour. Richter walked from side to side nervously, biting his nails, while you and Alucard didn’t move or talk at all. After a few more minutes, Alucard approached and leaned on the wall beside you with his arms crossed.
“You should try to sleep for now.”
You looked up at him and shook your head.
“I’m not sleepy.”
He sent a side eye at your blatant lie. “I’ll repeat it. You haven’t slept properly in almost four days.”
“You haven’t slept at all in almost four days, either.”
“And I can keep awake for much longer. How about you?”
...You’d never been awake for this long, actually. He got you.
You sighed and crossed your arms, sinking in the chair even more. “I don’t want to sleep. What if something important happens?”
“He won’t be quiet about it. You’ll wake up in no time,” Alucard said jokingly.
“I heard that,” Richter almost pouted. It seems he didn’t really like when both of you chuckled at him.
You dropped your voice to a whisper, hoping Richter wouldn’t hear you from the other side of the room.
“Don’t be mean to him.”
Alucard paused.
You had the strong impression he wanted to roll his eyes but held himself back. The white-haired vampire sighed and tilted his head to the side.
“I won’t if you sleep for a bit.”
It was your turn to let a deep sigh. “No promises.”
“No promises on my part, either.”
He sent you a last lighthearted look, the hint of a smile on his lips, before walking back to the windowsill.
The thing is, your eyelids were heavy. But you genuinely didn’t want to miss anything. One week ago, your life was basically a long, confusing sleep; it was the first time you’d been awake for so long, experiencing so many new things – good and bad – and it was the first time your mind was so clear. No memory lapses, no confusion; you knew where you were all the time, there were no blank spaces in between events. You didn’t want it to go away. If Alucard could keep awake for much longer, you could too, right? Maybe your brain would heal the sleep. Maybe if you pushed a little longer you wouldn’t feel tired anymore–
Pitch black.
“Come back here!”
You run around the alleys after that little rat. Heavens, why does ??? have to be so disobedient?! Although he’s screaming, you’re pretty sure he likes being chased like this. He loves pissing you off for some reason.
But his legs are much shorter than yours, and without much effort, you grab him by the collar.
??? looks at you with the round eyes of a scared pup.
“What are you doing here?!” You hiss, crouching down to get to his eye level and holding him by both arms. “I told you over a hundred times, you’re not allowed inside!”
“I was curious!”
“I don’t care!” ??? shrieks at your loud reprimands. You can’t bring yourself to soften; he has to understand that his actions have consequences once and for all. “There are places you’re not allowed to get in! Do you want me to get into trouble because of you?!”
??? crosses his arms and looks down, pouting. “I-I just wanted someone to play with!”
You huff and roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You have plenty of friends. You can’t fool me with that.” He sticks his tongue out at you; you ruffle his hair violently in return. “Go back home right now. And if I catch you here again, I’ll hang you by your feet and let you dry in the sun like a peace of meat. Did you understand?!”
“You’re annoying! I hate you!”
??? runs off. You gasp out loud, outraged.
“I’ll kill you when I get home!”
You woke up with a soft gasp.
For some seconds, you were completely disoriented. You blinked several times, trying to understand what was happening.
Oh.
You were exactly on the same spot as before. Sitting on the wooden chair. A long, soft fabric was put over your body, serving as a blanket.
...You ended up sleeping, after all.
And for a long time.
You knew it not only because your body ached from sleeping while sitting in a hard wooden chair – your neck was especially painful –, but because the Sun was gone. Judging by the height of the moon in the sky, it was already a little over midnight. It brightly illuminated the entire tailor shop through the large window, bathing it in silver light; one candle was lit over the desk, but it wasn’t really necessary.
You massaged your neck, frowning, and looked to your right side. Richter was sleeping over the desk right beside you, snoring softly and drooling a bit. It made you chuckle. Annette hadn’t moved a centimeter. You wondered if she’d feel pain when she “came back”; not moving for so many hours, not drinking water or eating…
“You should sleep a bit more.”
Alucard’s quiet voice reached your ears and immediately made you shiver… for some reason. He was being quieter than usual as to not wake Richter up or disturb Annette.
The white-haired vampire was comfortably sitting on the windowsill with his arms crossed, one of his legs over the wooden platform. The usual serenity adorned his features. Moonlight bathed him directly through the window, making his hair look like strands of pure braided silver. His long eyelashes cast a soft shadow over his golden eyes.
You rubbed your eyes and forehead. Of course, you were trying to brush the sleep away, but you also were trying to pretend his sole image didn’t make your stomach feel funny.
“I already slept too much,” you whispered back.
Alucard observed you in silence for some seconds. He pointed at something with his finger; a basket with some apples right beside Richter’s head.
Sure. You needed to eat. You haven’t had lunch at all. You held one of the apples and took a bite.
You munched in silence for some moments.
A silent battle took place within you.
You… wanted to approach him. You hadn’t really talked the entire day, too busy in your tasks to have a moment – and as stupid as it was because, well, he’d been near you the entire time, you… missed him. But you didn’t know if you should approach him at all. What if Alucard didn’t want to be disturbed? There was no reason for you to leave your spot in the room.
The hesitance only got worse because now, every time you looked at him, you remembered the hug. It was so comforting at that moment… why did you feel so embarrassed of yourself about it now? Alucard took the initiative to hug you first. There was nothing wrong with that, was it? Wasn’t it common for friends to hug each other? Well, you never had a friend before, you couldn’t tell if it was true...
Were you his friend in the first place? Did Alucard consider you a friend?
The truth is… you felt that something shifted in your “relationship” with him since that hug, even if it was all just in your head. You couldn’t tell exactly what. Maybe you were acting like a fool. Alucard probably didn’t stop to think about it even once.
You took another bite.
Alucard wouldn’t be mean to you, would he? He hadn’t been until that point. Not even once. So, why were you hesitating?
You gulped and got up from the chair.
Still holding the blanket, you crossed the room, tip toeing to not make much noise. Your eyes were glued on Annette’s immobile figure, both because you didn’t want to touch her by accident and because you didn’t want to make eye contact with Alucard yet. You knew he was watching you.
You sat on the other side of the windowsill, facing him. As the window was large, it was a considerable distance, which made the situation a bit less awkward for you. You put both legs over the windowsill and brought your knees close to your body, covering them with the blanket.
The only sound filling the room was of Richter’s soft snoring and your quiet munching.
It was peaceful. You didn’t expect you’d feel any peace in the hours that preceded the hell that would unleash upon the city. It was even a bit ironic how beautiful the moon looked that night.
After finishing eating the apple, you placed the stem aside and stayed in silence for some more minutes.
It took courage to speak up.
“Do you think they still need help out there?” Your voice was quiet.
Alucard didn’t take his eyes off the window.
“We already did everything we could to help them.” His deep, husky voice sounded even more soothing than usual for some reason. It was truly admirable how relaxed he could be in that moment, considering what awaited you in the near future. “They have all the instructions. They’ll know what to do.”
It was kind of him to include you in this. Your “help” wasn’t as significant as his; Alucard not only gave instructions, but led the entire defensive strategy. But you decided not to feel bad about that… not at that moment.
You put your hands over your knees and adjusted your posture a bit better.
“...Can I ask you something?”
Alucard turned his gaze to you for the first time, nodding.
“What did you mean back there at the square? When you said you don’t appreciate hypocrisy?”
The white-haired vampire exhaled softly; his expression got a tiny bit tense. You were under the impression he was expecting you to ask something else…
“That whole speech about liberty.” He started. His voice became more serious, a slight hint of annoyance once again. “It’s all surface level, you see. Very selfish. They talk about fighting for freedom whilst still keeping colonies under their power, refusing to let them be independent.” Alucard’s eyes landed on Annette. “Annette’s home country, Saint-Domingue, is one of these colonies. They are currently battling for independence over there. Annette herself was a slave; she had to fight for her own freedom.”
You widened your eyes and immediately looked at her as well.
Annette used to be a slave?!
Suddenly – many things about her started to make sense. The mark on her right hand… her words to you at the forest; “I understand how you feel”, she said. “Those people… they keep haunting you. On your sleep, or even when you’re awake”, she said.
“To be truly freed is to not be afraid.”
You tightened your hands on the blanket. Annette… she really could understand you better than anyone else. And she still came to this country to fight for the people that wouldn’t fight for her…
“Why did she even agree to help them?” You wondered in disbelief.
“She understands that Erzsebet will become a much bigger menace to the whole world if she’s not stopped in time.” Alucard tightened his eyes. “The people of France, like Richter and Maria, aren’t wrong for fighting against the monarchy. But it’s the leaderships of the Revolution that are hypocrites. If it’s not liberty for all, then it’s no liberty at all.”
You looked at Annette again.
She was so much stronger than you imagined… not only because she was a powerful witch or because she was, at that moment, wandering alone in the spirit world; Annette had a noble soul. She was strong enough to overcome her fears and fight for herself.
You wondered if you’d be like her one day.
You wanted to be like her.
To be truly freed is to not be afraid.
Well… if you wanted to be like her, you’d have to overcome your fears, too. And your hesitancy.
You hugged your own legs and stared at the fabric of the blanket, gathering the courage to speak these next words out loud. If you spoke them, they would become more real. A part of you was scared of that fact.
“I… I think I have a son.”
Alucard immediately whipped his head at your whispered confession.
Although he was visibly surprised, he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue.
“...Or a brother. I’m not sure.”
The white-haired vampire narrowed his eyes; he was the one that seemed to hesitate now, choosing his words carefully. “What makes you think that?”
You scratched your head nervously and frowned. “This dream I just had. I barely ever dream about anything… my sleep is usually empty. B-But I dreamed of this little boy that looks like me and…”
And I loved him.
I loved the little boy I saw in my dream with all my heart. I missed him the moment I opened my eyes and realized he wasn’t real.
You gulped, passed your hand over your face again. “Or maybe I’m still emotional over what happened to Oliver. I don’t know.” You shook your head, immediately feeling regret and embarrassment for admitting something so personal. Why would Alucard want to know about that anyway? “F-Forget about it. Just a dream, right? I guess it’s not important…”
“If it’s important to you, then it’s important.” Alucard held his chin and looked down, pensive. “Perhaps your memories are coming back in the form of dreams.”
It was a bit amazing how Alucard could reassure you with a blank expression on his face – as if he didn’t understand the impact his words had on you. You looked down at your knees again, that familiar heat already increasing on the back of your neck and cheeks.
“I-Is it common?” You tried to act like his words didn’t make you feel even more emotional.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell. I’ve… never suffered of memory loss before.” He shrugged. “But the mind works in mysterious ways, especially if we consider that your memories might’ve been taken away by magic.”
You exhaled and grabbed some strands of hair at the top of your head nervously again, as if trying to forcefully grab a memory from your brain.
“Why can’t I remember relevant things? Or at least straightforward things?” You whined to yourself. “Small, useless things come to me, but nothing that could help me find out who I am.”
“What type of things do you remember?” He asked softly.
You hummed.
“...I can’t call these things memories. They’re more like… things I know. Like…” You pressed your lips together. “I know the difference between a poisonous mushroom and an edible one. No one taught me that, I just know it. Or… there’s many animals I know of, though I don’t remember ever seeing them before. And…”
You looked out the window towards the sky. Alucard watched you with curiosity.
You pointed towards a specific star.
“That’s Mars.” Alucard looked subtly surprised. “Right in the middle of the Gemini constellation. Pollux, Castor…” You searched for something else in the sky. “And there… Betelgeuse, Bellatrix... the Orion constellation. And right over there–“ You pointed a bit downwards. “That’s Jupiter, in the middle of Taurus. And that star right beside it… it’s…” Your frown deepened and you hummed, trying to remember its name. “It’s…”
“Aldebaran.”
You looked back at Alucard.
He had the tiniest of the smiles on his lips.
“Yes. Aldebaran.” You confirmed, unable to hide your tiny smile that mirrored his.
“That’s why you look at the night sky so much? You were remembering?”
Oh.
You didn’t know Alucard paid attention to that.
You averted your gaze from his, trying to hide your shyness. “M-My point is: why do I remember these small things, and nothing more relevant… like where do I come from or my real name?”
Alucard leaned his back on the wall once more and looked out the window. You watched as serenity took the lead over his features again – being accompanied by quiet sorrow. That was new. You hadn’t seen him show an expression like that before.
...He looked quite vulnerable at that moment.
“My father… was many things,” he began, which immediately surprised you and locked all your attention over him. Alucard was finally letting one more piece of information about him; these moments were rare. You cherished them deeply. His voice was featherlight, mirroring the quiet vulnerability of his expression. “A scholar, a philosopher, an alchemist… and he was also an astronomer. He was passionate about the stars.”
A small sad smile appeared on his lips.
That was another new expression.
That was the same man that led an entire room full of generals with unyielding authority; the same man you’d seen kill vampires ruthlessly. A real warrior. And yet, at that moment, locked inside this small tailor shop with no more witnesses other than you, Alucard was letting himself be fragile for a moment.
Perhaps it was inappropriate of you to think this way – but at that moment, with the silver moonlight kissing his saddened image, he had never looked more beautiful.
The intricate paintings you’d seen at the Louvre did not compare to him.
“He taught me all about it when I was a child,” Alucard continued softly. “Constellations. Comets. Planets… I never forgot any of it.” He closed his eyes for a moment before looking down. “What I mean with that is… I don’t really use this knowledge in my life other than to know the seasons of the year. Some magicians are benefited by the positions of celestial bodies, but they don’t affect the type of magic I use. And yet…” He finally looked up at you again. “This knowledge isn’t small or useless to me; because it was taught by someone I loved.”
For some reason, you felt your heart ache at his words.
Of course, you understood what he meant; he was trying to help, to change your perspective, to not deem that your simple “knowledge” was useless. However, what you noticed the most was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the quiet longing. You remembered, once again, the fact that Alucard was centuries old. Still, he visibly talked about his father with some sort of affection. Longing.
...He’d been missing someone for centuries?
But you remembered, once again, that his father was Dracula. The name that evoked primal fear in you; the vampire that, according to Richter, almost wiped out mankind. He must’ve been as dangerous as Erzsebet or even worse. Even so, Alucard seemed to miss him… it made the whole situation so much more painful.
Did Alucard have to kill someone he loved…?
Why did it make you so sad?
Maybe it wasn’t that serious to him; maybe it was a scar that had already healed long ago. Maybe you were being too emotional again. But the simple idea of Alucard having to go through something so horrible ached. You… you wished there was something you could do for him. If you could comfort him the way he comforted you so many times.
...You wondered if he’d mind if you came closer. If he’d be surprised if you draped your arms around his shoulders; if he’d push you away if you made him rest his head on your chest, the same way he did to you yesterday. You wondered if he’d appreciate if you held him like that; if he’d like if you caressed his hair, tangling your fingers on his silvery strands. You… you wondered if it would make him feel a bit better. If he’d sigh, if he would cage his arms around your waist and reciprocate it.
You didn’t just wonder it; you craved it. Because as much as his touch and his gaze and his eyes burned, you craved that burn. It wouldn’t hurt you – at least, not in the ways you were used to.
It was scary.
If you were a little more brave, you would’ve moved. You would’ve made your imagination come true.
...But once again, you were reminded that there wasn’t time for any of that.
You felt a cold shiver run your spine, which immediately snapped you out of your trance. What surprised you, however, is that you weren’t the only one; Alucard also frowned and immediately straightened his posture, putting both feet on the floor again.
Both of you turned to Annette.
Both of you watched in quiet shock when she started to float in the air, keeping her meditation position.
Both of you stood up.
“...Is this normal?” You whispered.
“I don’t know.” He whispered back.
“What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do.”
“I should wake–“
“No.” Alucard held your arm softly before you took one more step. “Let the boy sleep. There’s nothing he can do, either. He’ll just be even more stressed.”
You gulped and nodded, sitting on the windowsill again and hoping that whatever battle Annette was facing, she’d be strong enough to win.
Hours went by. The sun raised in the sky again – and with him, apprehension beyond words.
Before, Richter was the only one walking from side to side and biting nails; now, you felt like a pile of anxiety yourself, watching as Annette didn’t send any sign that she was close to coming back. Two hours ago, she had gasped for a moment as if she was underwater; after that, her expression went back to being blank and she stopped levitating, her body slowly getting down on the floor again.
No more reactions after that.
The streets were packed with soldiers once more. You looked out the window and back to her nervously. What if she got lost in the spirit world? What if she never came back?
Even Alucard was beginning to show hints of anxiety. He chose to stay in the same spot by the window, but his eyes wandered outside as well. He had taken responsibility over the entire operation, after all. Despite what he said past night, you knew he also worried for everyone.
You stopped beside him with crossed arms. Richter couldn’t stay still for a moment. The three of you watched Annette in silence.
You didn’t want Richter to hear your question. Hell, you didn’t want to voice that yourself – but it had to be asked at some point.
“Alucard, what if… what if she…” you whispered; yet, you weren’t brave enough to finish that sentence.
What if she doesn’t make it?
Alucard understood anyway.
“We’ll fight.” He replied with simplicity. “There’s nothing else we can do.”
You closed your eyes for a moment. Annette never coming back… Erzsebet possessing the true power of Sekhmet… all the unprepared soldiers out there… you were experiencing the worst case scenario. You wished there was something else you could do. Anything to help her.
Minutes went by. Minutes. Minutes…
You… started to feel a strange weakness in the pit of your stomach.
Your legs felt wobbly. It wasn’t due to hunger or anxiety this time; you knew it. This sensation was familiar – albeit much weaker than the other times you had felt it.
You gasped and turned around to face the window.
“No.” You whispered in disbelief.
Alucard and Richter were surprised by your sudden reaction; then, they focused on the window as well.
On the sky.
The sun was beginning to be covered by a shadow.
Slowly, the sky got a sickening red color as the eclipse progressed; sunlight was starting to vanish. You heard rushed voices and screams out there, people running on the streets, locking themselves inside their homes, soldiers yelling orders. A sentiment of fear grew almost palpable over the whole city.
Alucard’s suspicions were right.
With the second half of Sekhmet’s soul, Erzsebet did not need you anymore to summon an eclipse.
You already knew he was most certainly right, but you foolishly tried to be positive. Maybe she won’t be able to summon an eclipse anyway.
All your thin hopes were shattered.
It was impossible to ease your aching heart or calm your shaking hands. The eclipse was the bad omen that indicated her approach. Was Erzsebet close by already? Was her army marching near the borders of Paris?
You couldn’t take your eyes off the window anymore or shut your loud mind – and that’s why you didn’t notice Richter calling Annette behind you.
Suddenly – heat.
You turned around in a jump in time to see Annette being involved in golden light.
Richter was sent flying back and hit his back against a cabinet. Wind made everyone’s clothes and hair sway; you had to protect your eyes with your arm to not be blinded. It became hot hot hot hot inside the atelier; you felt goosebumps roam your skin, your stomach drop, a certain dizziness – the effects of standing near so much power.
Finally – the light diminished. You put your arm down slowly and opened your eyes.
A shocked gasp escaped past your lips.
Annette levitated in the air some centimeters away from the floor; her hair suddenly got longer, her braids cascading over her shoulders like a beautiful lion’s mane. She wore an ancient Egyptian red attire adorned with details in gold. Her closed eyes were painted with blue and red kohl. She had a golden aura around her; the temperature inside the atelier increased significantly.
She carried so much power that the air trembled.
“...Annette?” Richter called hesitantly – but you already knew, and he knew as well, that this wasn’t Annette anymore.
“Where is she?” she spoke; her voice was distorted – beyond her normal voice, there was another female voice speaking upon it, too.
Annette finally opened her eyes. They looked like ponds of pure melted gold; her pupils, vertical like a cat’s.
“Where is this Erzsebet?” she demanded with the authority of a queen.
No… not a queen. A goddess.
Annette wasn’t in front of you anymore. Sekhmet was.
It made all the tiny hairs in your arms and at the back of your neck raise; your breath got difficult. This sensation was familiar – you had witnessed Erzsebet being possessed by Sekhmet’s power before. And yet, it felt slightly different now. The fear wasn’t accompanied by menace or cruelty. It felt more like witnessing a raging tornado coming towards you.
Annette had succeeded.
Great, this was great. Your chances in battle increased significantly with such a powerful ally; more importantly, Annette was alive. Maybe the goddess had possessed her body for a while, but it meant that her consciousness was still there somehow, maybe watching everything in the back of her mind…
Annette– Sekhmet extended her arms, watching everything with a high chin.
“My three souls must be rejoined and the cosmic balance restored,” she said in that same chilling, proud tone. “Though this mortal vessel might be too fragile for the souls of a god.”
Richter tightened his fists; sweat dripped down his temples. You’d never seen him look so worried as in that moment. The Belmont boy stepped forward.
“We will lead you to her. Erzsebet is coming to this city.”
Sekhmet did not show any reaction. It was a bit unsettling to see Annette’s face carrying that ferocious, yet soulless expression–
But then, she laid eyes on you for the first time.
Her gaze was piercing. It made you feel exposed for some reason; as if she was able to see inside of you, inside your soul.
Her eyes scanned your face, then laid on your chest for some moments.
Sekhmet frowned like a feral cat.
It was the first facial expression she showed.
“She must not be close to me.”
You froze in place, absolutely speechless.
W...What?!
Both Alucard and Richter looked from Sekhmet to you rapidly, as shocked as you. What did she mean? Why couldn’t you be close to her? She– She didn’t like you? Did it have anything to do with your involvement with Erzsebet? What was the problem?!
“Don’t make me repeat myself, human,” Sekhmet hissed again, this time addressing Richter; the tailor shop trembled at her anger. Alucard was the only one that didn’t flinch or move. “Where is this Erzsebet?! Lead me to her!”
Richter looked back at you one more time, sending you an apologetic look. The goddess was impatient – and it wasn’t a good idea to make her wait, especially while she inhabited Annette’s body. No one had any idea if it’d be harmful for her to be possessed for so long.
The Belmont boy gulped and walked towards the door, unlocking it and walking out. Sekhmet followed him, levitating out of the atelier.
You stood there, shell-shocked, not knowing how to react.
Alucard’s touch took you out of that state.
He put both hands over your shoulders, blocking the sight of the floating goddess out there and forcing you to lock all of your attention on him. Severity weighed on his features; he had an accentuated frown, his jaw was tightened. And yet, he somehow still looked down at you with care.
“It’d already be best for you to keep out of sight,” his tone indicated that he was not willing to debate this.
You tightened your fists, your shoulders dropped. You knew he was right regardless of Sekhmet’s demand. You knew you didn’t know how to wield a sword or a rifle; you knew you’d be useless in battle. You weren’t a powerful magician or a warrior like these two. You weren’t even like the civilians in uniforms out there – they’d be more useful than you.
But even so… even so…
Alucard cupped your cheek softly.
Maybe it was the fact that you weren’t in panic as you were before that made his gesture burn right away. It burned burned burned much more than Sekhmet’s hot power out there; it spread warmth through your body, made your chest tighten. Heavens, it burned so much; his caring gaze, his gentle touch, his sweet smell… everything burned–
But oh god – how you wanted to burn in this fire.
The rushed voices and steps out there got muffled. It seemed that time itself slowed down for a moment while you looked into each other’s eyes.
“I’ve failed you two times before,” Alucard said in a smooth, yet determined tone; his thumb caressed your cheek gently. “I promise I won’t fail you again. Erzsebet and Drolta won’t get anywhere near you.”
You didn’t know what to answer.
Alucard was the first person to ever stand up for you; the first person to ever protect you, to make you feel safe. Yes, maybe you were being too emotional. Maybe you were letting your emotions take the lead instead of sanity. But how could you not feel this affection towards him in situations like this?
You believed him. You trusted him.
You nodded.
Alucard managed to offer you a small smile. He let go of your cheek and held your wrist softly, passing his finger over the red string. He still wore his.
“Remember.” He patted his finger over it. You nodded yet again.
When Alucard stepped back, the world started moving at the normal pace again. The noises became clear. The city was loud now – and you felt incredibly cold.
He sent you a last significant gaze before turning around and leaving the atelier, closing the door behind him.
And then – you were alone.
Minutes went by. You walked from side to side with crossed arms. The city was painted in an eerie red hue due to the eclipse; you saw many soldiers running through the window. You tried to calm down, control your breathing, focus on a single thing– but fuck, you couldn’t. Not anymore.
You hoped Alucard, Richter and Annette were safe – especially Annette. You hoped everything would get solved fast so the goddess could leave her body. You hoped Richter would find the strength to fight. You hoped Alucard would succeed in his strategy. You hoped the civilians out there, courageously wearing uniforms and standing up to fight for their families, would survive; as many as possible, at least.
You hoped there was something you could do.
You sat on the windowsill and leaned your head on both hands, gripping your hair nervously. You couldn’t help but shake. You knew Alucard was right; you didn’t want to get hurt or to cross ways with Drolta or Erzsebet. He was being rational. He was correct.
But even so… even so–
Your thoughts got interrupted by the sound of an explosion.
The floor shook. Multiple screams echoed in the night, followed by shots. More explosions – these were somewhere near, probably a few streets away; you heard more distant explosions too. Cannons being ignited.
The battle had started.
You got up again, unable to control your anxiety. More screams more shots more explosions more earthquakes. The sky lightened up with different colors – blue and red and yellow – for a few seconds. Your heart raced, sweat already covered your forehead, your fingers trembled. Pure chaos had unleashed upon the city.
Erzsebet and Drolta were somewhere out there fighting.
This perception frightened you, made you want to dig a hole on the ground and hide there forever. You couldn’t be seen or caught by them – death felt like a more merciful future, but you couldn’t die, and that was the problem.
At the same time, another feeling increased. Burned.
Anger.
And urgency.
Everyone was fighting out there. Everyone was contributing somehow, putting their lives on the line. Humans against vampires and night creatures; they were much more courageous than you were. All of them were risking their fragile mortal lives. You were reminded of how easy it is for a human to die – while you, with this strange healing condition, were hidden there, too scared to get hurt.
You were tired of feeling useless and even more tired of feeling scared.
Fuck, there should be something you could do! Anything actually useful. You held your head again, once more hating your stupid empty brain, wishing you could find a relevant memory despite what Alucard said before–
Your eyes stopped on the scepter.
It was in the corner of the room exactly were you left it. You weren’t brave enough to touch it again.
You stood there and stared at it.
Explosions. Screams. Earthquakes. Shots. Multiple steps. Everything had a red tone to it. You kept your eyes locked on the golden artifact, the symbol of the sun; you stared and stared and stared and–
You remembered.
Once again – it wasn’t exactly a memory. It was more of a feeling; a knowledge. The scepter seems to be reacting to your feelings, Alucard said that time. It shone and burned the three vampires alive as if they were standing under the sun.
You somehow caused this reaction.
And at that moment, something deep within you told you that you could make that again.
You could make it bigger.
Your fists tightened. You gulped and straightened your posture.
Alucard told you to keep out of sight. Sekhmet said you shouldn’t be near her.
But you looked out the window and saw these soldiers running with rifles in hand; the fragility of their lives didn’t stop them from fighting. Maybe there was something you could do. Maybe you could help them somehow in a truly effective way.
You crossed the room and held the scepter; it was cold, lifeless. You’d find a way to make it work again – you had too. You stood in front of the door, your hand hovering over the doorknob. It was shaking.
You closed your eyes for a moment.
You were scared. You were frightened.
But Annette’s voice echoed in the back of your mind:
To be truly freed is to not be afraid.
You opened your eyes, turned the doorknob and ran out of the atelier shop – stepping into the red chaos.
