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euryfix · 2 days

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Back Alley - Doppelgänger Francis Mosses x Female Reader

Word Count 5k

Rating Explicit

CW - minor blood/injury, fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

The end of your shift. The quiet part of the evening.

Nestled downtown in the oldest part of the city, the diner you’re employed at as a waitress caters to DDD members and civilians alike. The final patrons have already filed out the front entrance, a pair of glass front doors with shiny chrome handles. You begin the process of closing the establishment for the evening, starting with a final wipe down of all the surfaces in the dining area while the young man that washes dishes works his way through the last batch of soiled utensils and plates and cups. You count the money in the register and gather the receipts, placing everything on the owner’s desk in the tiny office in back of the restaurant.

The adolescent has finished the washing in the kitchen and finds you putting leftover food scraps onto a plate, a snack for the stray cats that dwell in the alley behind the diner. He rocks on his heels, the apron he’d been wearing already removed and now anxiously wrung between his hands. “Did you want me to wait, or…”

You smile softly. “No, that’s alright. I’m just going to set this out and bring out the trash and I’ll be locking up. Go on home. Be safe.”

Needing no further encouragement, the youth darts from the kitchen. You shake your head ruefully, gathering the ends of the plastic bag in the kitchen’s rubbish bin together and knotting them. Balancing trash in one hand and the plate in the other, you manage to open the heavy steel door at the rear of the diner that leads to the alley.

Normally there are several strays to greet you as soon as you open the door, accustomed as they are to this nightly routine.

Tonight it takes you several moments to locate one solitary form after you’ve lobbed the bag into the dumpster and closed the lid, retrieving the plate you’d set by the back door.

You spy one of your usual clients hovering near the stockade fence further down the narrow passageway, a raggedy looking gray tabby with a torn ear that’s normally the friendliest of the bunch.

“Hey there. What’s wrong, you’re not hungry?” You walk forward a couple of steps, crouching down and holding out your empty hand, making little affectionate sounds to lure the animal closer.

In the distance you hear voices shouting. Not uncommon in the city, but you’re still wary as you straighten, leaving the plate on the ground.

The cat, still hunched by the fence, issues a warning growl.

You turn and see a shape moving from the opposite end of the alley where it divides into the main road, the hair on your bare forearms rising, the skin goose pimpling.

You whirl around, already making for the open door at your back, that slice of light inside a beacon that’s frustratingly so close and yet so far.

You don’t quite make it.

A hand reaches the door before you do, slamming it shut. It becomes a wall at your back as you shrink against it, recoiling from whatever just closed it.

No, not whatever. The strays knew what it was. Now you know, too.

A doppelgänger.

This one dressed in the uniform of a milkman, though his outfit had seen better days. Spattered with blood, you cannot find a single patch of the white shirt that doesn’t bear some trace of scarlet droplets. Shouting again in the distance, though this time it sounds closer.

You open your mouth to yell for help and a hand instantly clamps down over it. The doppel is breathing heavily. It must be the DDD pursuing him. Without the light of the diner’s interior, you can’t see much of the creature’s replicated features in the night shrouded alley. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you yet, your heart hammering like mad.

“I’m not going to hurt you. If you help me, I’ll do something for you in return.”

He was trying to bargain? Bad idea. Doppelgängers were notorious liars. By definition of their very existence they had to be masters of deceit. He must have been desperate if he was making this offer. Definitely being chased by the disposal team officers, the likely source of the shouting you’ve been hearing, the details of the situation coming together in your mind.

You can’t imagine a single thing the invader could offer you that you’d desire.

“I’m going to remove my hand. We’re going to go inside. You’re not going to make a sound. Agreed? Nod if you understand me.”

Wide eyed, nostrils flaring, you move your head, signaling your acceptance of his terms. What choice did you have?

The barrier over your mouth lifts and you’re pushed aside, firmly but without malice, the heavy door wrenched open. You’re shoved inside and the door is quickly shut again.

“Is the front door locked? Lights off?”

You nod, swallowing past a panicked lump in your throat as you take a couple of steps back away from the intruder.

The male copycat sighs, shoulders visibly sagging with relief.

He’s still hiding.

Still wearing the visage of the human he’d duplicated, a tired looking brunette male probably in his early thirties with tousled chestnut hair, shadowed under eyes, a long nose with the slightest bump along the bridge—an old injury that had never healed quite right, perhaps—set above thin lips.

The arm that’s been tucked tightly against his side the entire time, never once in use to restrain you or open the door, you realize, now lifts, exposing a gash across his lower abdomen, rent right through the fabric and severing the flesh beneath.

You’d incorrectly assumed the blood had been from a struggle with the original milkman he’d replicated, not from the alien himself. You suck in a deep breath, wincing as your eyes linger on the injury. “What happened?”

“Got cut jumping the fence.”

“That’s going to need stitches,” you observe as he drags the shirt’s hem free of his belted pants, hurriedly thumbing the buttons open and shrugging out of the garment, thrusting it into the garbage bin you hurriedly point to. The undershirt is similarly stained, but this he leaves in place, merely lifting the edge to better expose the wound.

His eyes meet yours. “Can you do it?”

“I mean, I’m not a physician. All I have is the sewing kit I keep in my purse to mend tears in an emergency. You need to see a doctor, go to the hospital…” Your voice trails off. Of course he couldn’t. He’d be killed instantly.

“Get it.”

You hesitate. Were you really going to risk helping this foreigner?

“Please,” he adds through gritted teeth. Perspiration beads his forehead. You wonder if he hasn’t already been exposed to something that would prove infectious later on. Not really your concern, though. You just needed to survive until you could get away from him. Somehow.

“Alright.” You don’t spare any more time debating about what the right course of action is. You grab one of the clean dish rags from under the kitchen sink and your purse stashed in the bottom desk drawer in the office.

The doppelgänger’s eyes remained fixed on your every movement, watching as you soak the wash cloth in warm water and pull the sewing kit from your purse, the fingers threading the needle shaking. You drag one of the chairs from the dining room for him to sit on, kneeling on the linoleum beside his seated form.

You hesitate again. You really didn’t have the appropriate kind of materials for this. Should you have heated the needle to try to sterilize it first? Was there even time for that? Would it be easier just to attempt to cauterize the area? Somehow you don’t think the invader would be keen on the idea of getting burned, even if the intention was to aid and not harm. “I don’t know that this is going to work, but I’ll do my best. This is going to hurt,” you caution.

“Worse than being cut open?” He asks bitterly.

“No, I suppose not.” You begin washing around the cut, scrubbing at the dried blood, trying to clean the edges of the laceration. It’s still weeping blood but the flow has slowed, the body’s natural clotting process coming into effect. The milkman he’s replicated is on the leaner side, with little softness in the abdomen you’re cleansing. “Why can’t you just replicate the skin again? Make it intact?”

“It doesn’t work like that. It’s penetrated through the outer layer. You humans are so fragile. It doesn’t take much to tear through…” He lets that thought remain unfinished.

You shiver, thinking of how, were circumstances different, he would’ve torn you to shreds without a second thought, murdering you at best, devouring you at worst. You can’t help but wonder if the doppel will turn on you once you finished patching him up.

“Okay, I’m going to try to start sewing.” Your heart is still thudding rapidly. Your eyes narrow in concentration as you pierce the skin, hurriedly seeking the adjacent flesh to sling the thread between, then drawing it taut. You’re feeling a little nauseous and lightheaded. You tell yourself you’re not piecing a person back together. Urging yourself to pretend it was something else. Mending a torn shirt. A ripped stuffed animal. Anything but the gruesome sight before you.

At last the task is completed, the pale skin sutured together. You sit back on your heels, heaving a raspy sigh, your hands clasped tightly together in your lap, willing them to stop trembling.

“You’re skilled,” the doppelgänger murmurs, looking over your handiwork, probing the closed incision gingerly. It is a rather impressive job if you’re being honest, a neat line of even stitches despite your shaking hands.

“You’ll need to keep this clean so it doesn’t get infected. And you can’t move around too much. I don’t know how well that thread will hold.” You gently push his questing digits away, applying gauze and tape from the first aid kit in the office to cover the wound and he eases the ripped undershirt back down.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes meet his. You’ve never heard of an invader asking a human for help. Being grateful. You don’t know what to make of it.

“I won’t forget this.”

You rise, tossing the used wash cloth in the trash and returning your sewing kit to the depths of your handbag. You return the chair to the dining room once he’s slid from it, watching as you settle your purse strap on your shoulder, keys to the diner in hand. The replicant opens the back door a crack, peeking outside, head cocked slightly, listening. No shouting. The DDD had passed through the area. He glances back at you a final time before slipping through the gap.

You lock the door behind him, then sag against it, exhaling a shuddering breath. He’d let you live, as promised. A doppelgänger that kept his word.

What did it mean?

***

He’s in the alley again.

You tell yourself you weren’t looking for the milkman’s clone every night for the last three shifts, merely taking out the garbage and feeding the strays per usual.

Your stomach does a little somersault as he approaches. His skin color is better, no longer so ghostly pale. The milkman uniform he’s wearing looks clean and crisp and starched. Where had he gotten it? Was he keeping a low profile, pretending to be the human he’s dressed as? There certainly seemed to be some transfer of knowledge that occurred when the replicants adopted a human form, intelligence information that surpasses beyond what could be obtained through just casual observation. The doppels knew so much about humans, and humans still knew so little about the invaders, what should have been a home field advantage hampered by the persistence of these alien visitors.

“How are you?” You greet him cautiously.

“Healing well. You did a fine job.”

What should you say to that? You’re glad you helped the enemy? You shudder to think what would happen if anyone ever found that out.

The doppelgänger steps closer. “Are you going to invite me inside?”

As if he was a vampire, seeking permission to grant entrance. You can’t imagine what he wants from you now.

Still, you push the door open wider. He eases past you, his body lightly brushing yours.

“What do you have to eat?”

“Um…” As far as you knew, the invaders only ate human flesh. “What…what did you want? I haven’t cleared out the displays yet. There’s pie, donuts from the morning, though those are probably stale by now. I can make you a sandwich, or…”

He follows you into the dining room as you list the possible offerings, reaching for one of the chocolate iced pastries tucked under the nearest glass dome. He takes an experimental bite and his mouth turns down in disgust at the flavor.

“I warned you they’d be stale.”

“It’s not that. It’s the sweetness. Overwhelming. We’re primarily carnivores.”

“Is turkey okay? Or maybe ham? I don’t know what to offer you.”

He tips his head to one side, considering. “Cow?”

“Yes, we have ground beef.”

“That would be preferable.”

“You just want it…raw?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” There are a couple of defrosted packages in the fridge. You resolve to put some of your tip money towards the meal. You don’t like the idea of stealing from the restaurant.

It feels weird just handing him the styrofoam tray, but also silly to dump the mass of pink pulverized meat onto a plate. You refuse to watch him eat, studying one of the laminated menus resting on the counter intently, unfortunately catching a glimpse of him licking the traces of blood lingering at the bottom of the package when you dare to glance over at him.

“I’m aware this adds to the debt I owe you,” he says.

You discard the tray and fold your arms across your chest, trying to exude more confidence than you felt. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

A slight frown appears as the creature processes the phrase.

“It means adding it to the list of things you already owe that you intend to repay.”

“Ah. Yes, that.” He watches you finish cleaning up after his grim repast, wiping the counter down a final time before accompanying you to the front door and waiting as you lock the entrance from the outside, tugging on the chrome handles to make sure they’ve been secured properly. “Do you live nearby?”

“Yes,” you answer, suddenly wary.

“This is not a very safe part of town for humans,” he muses.

Is anywhere safe anymore?

“Is your living space guarded by the DDD?”

“Not internally. There’s just the street patrol.”

“I’ll accompany you as far as your destination, then.”

“You don’t have to.”

The doppelgänger insists, now walking beside you. It feels unwise to allow the invader to see where you live, but then again, had he done anything to harm you thus far? Surely there had been opportunity if that was his main goal. What was his main goal? What did he want, if not to consume, to take over control of the planet like his brethren?

“You’re not like the others,” you murmur your thoughts out loud, feeling the mimic’s eyes flick in your direction.

“Do you know many doppels?” He sounds bemused.

“No,” you reply, stepping over a broken bottle littering the pavement.

“Is every human the same?”

“Of course not.”

“So why should we be any different?”

“I guess you’re right,” you concede.

You’ve reach the end of the street you’re traveling on and take a right, leading the invader onward into another back alley. You’ve barely taken a few paces before the sound of heavy footsteps alerts you to someone else’s presence.

“Disposal team.” You hear the disgust and fear in your companion’s tone as he tenses, jerking to a halt. The sounds are getting louder as the guards draw closer. “Play along. They won’t be suspicious if they see a couple.”

Suddenly you’re pushed against the wall, so abruptly the air leaves your lungs, your next desperate intake of oxygen interrupted when the doppel’s mouth covers yours.

You feel you stomach do that little somersault motion again. His tongue finds the inside of your mouth. He tastes slightly metallic. The movements are inexperienced, clumsy. Imitating something he’s seen. The teeth that nip your bottom lip are sharp.

“Hey! You there! What’s going…” The DDD officer halts, the beam of the flashlight illuminating what appears as your lover pinning you against the wall, caught up in a moment of passion. You don’t even have to fake the look of embarrassment as your eyes shyly meet the guard’s, the doppel’s mouth sliding from yours.

“Sorry, sir. Just picked my girl up from work and I couldn’t wait.” He offers a sheepish grin that looks extremely convincing.

The DDD member’s partner draws even with his cohort, the gun in his hand lowering, looking over the pastel yellow dress you’re wearing.

“I know you. You work over at the diner.”

You nod frantically.

“You should get on home. It isn’t safe out here. Even with your man with you. Especially not down the side streets.”

“Sorry, that was my idea. My feet are killing me and I just wanted to get home faster.” You pause, reaching for your purse still slung over your shoulder. “Did you want to see our IDs?”

“Nah, that’s alright. Imagine a doppel making out with a human. Right?” He elbows his companion, grinning.

“Get home safe, now. No more dallying,” the older of the pair cautions before abandoning you, resuming patrol with the more inexperienced member who’s still wearing a smirk as he trails slightly behind, darting one more glance in your direction as if hoping to catch you in the act again.

The copycat heaves a sigh of relief when they’ve both finally departed, the booted steps receding in the distance. His eyes lock with yours, and you see his nostrils flare slightly, a slight frown wrinkling the bridge of his nose, then his eyelids lift, whatever mystery he’s been puzzling over solved.

“You liked that.”

“What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“You liked what we just did.”

Oh. Your cheeks flush again. “No, I…I was just playing along, like you said. You caught me off guard.”

“You did a good job. Thinking on your feet. Admirable, really. How deep in debt I’m getting,” the doppel hums beside your cheek. He hasn’t shifted much since your discovery, one hand still braced on the wall at your back, his body leaning close to yours. “You smell good. Good enough to eat.”

You shiver and gasp. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt me.”

“No, no. Not what I had in mind at all,” he hurriedly reassures you. The clone of the milkman plants a kiss on the side of your neck. Gentle. Not rushed, not under the guise of something to trick the guards. Repeating the process, getting accustomed to using the human body he’s replicated for this new task. He kisses your lips again, and you know you should be repulsed.

You’re not.

Your mouth parts for his, inviting him inside. He’s already growing more skilled, the tongue against yours slick, deft, curling and stroking, the fire he’d begun stoking in your core flaring anew.

You’re French kissing a doppelgänger, and you like it.

You feel a hand caressing down your body, pausing to drag the purse off your shoulder, then kneading one breast before sliding down to your hip, moving neatly around to grope the curve of one buttocks cheek. The fingers curl, dragging up the fabric of your dress.

“I can smell your arousal. Your body wants to mate.” It’s crass, vulgar, sheer filth the alien should be slapped for uttering, but there’s nothing derogatory in the way he mentions it, the words of observation that he spreads before your lips lilted with a kind of wonder, fascination, curiosity. He’s finally reached the hem of the skirt portion of your work uniform, shifting quickly to the waistband of the panties you’re wearing, dipping underneath and nudging at the fork of your body.

To be doing this, with a doppelgänger, in public…

Your legs are already shifting, your stance broadening slightly to grant him better access. A little grunt of satisfaction, and then his fingers glide through your slickened folds, searching for the source of that dampness.

You moan softly, disappointed when the fingers do not linger, instead brought up to the invader’s lips, his thumb rolling the slick of your sex over the pads of his index and middle fingers curiously before he thrusts them into his mouth, a fresh flood leaking from your canal as you watch his eyes slide closed, a sound of some rapturous enjoyment hummed around those digits.

He kneels down, the movement swift and smooth, your eyes darting nervously to the lit street so close and yet so far, the last of the street lamp glow’s reach ending just beyond the shadows you’re standing in. The doppel looks up at you and you bury a hand in the thick mane of chestnut hair, a tender gesture of permission, pleading. You don’t know if he’d stop even if you’d declined the offer, that ravenous look in his eyes intense as he impatiently shifts the hem of your dress again, dragging away the flimsy undergarment that clothes your sex, this last barrier discarded carelessly on the pavement nearby.

Your low heeled pumps scrape against the dirty gravel of the alley as you adjust your position, the alien’s face instantly at your pussy, nose digging into your mound, tongue laving the rosy sensitive flesh. He groans and you echo the sound, your legs already trembling as his tongue delves deeper, dragging fluid back, the inadvertent flick of the tip of the curled muscle against your bud making you gasp and moan, your head rocking back against the brick and mortar.

His attention focuses on that sensitive bundle of nerve endings, mouth clamping over it and sucking, slurping, nursing at it until you see spots in front your eyes. You know you’re being loud, your only saving grace being that the building at your back is a long abandoned shirt factory with no one to hear your lewd sounds of pleasure.

His fingers are at your entrance again, paired to penetrate into that opening. The milkman he’s imitating has long fingers that reach deep, curling and twisting inside, scooping out more of your arousal for him to lap at before he sups at your pussy, drinking straight from the source.

You bite your bottom lip until it bleeds when you climax, shuddering against that incessant mouth worshipping your cunt, your fingers knotting restlessly in his tresses. You cum like a freight train, hard and fast, an unstoppable force driving you right through into bliss.

He’s still lapping, enjoying the taste of you, this new creamier substance that emerges from deep within after your release. You can’t tolerate it any longer, now shoving gently at his shoulders, pleading you’re too sensitive, it’s too much, you feel as if you might faint if not for the strong building exterior supporting your spine.

The doppelgänger rises, face wet with your juices smeared across his mouth and chin and cheeks, a distinct shine visible even in this dim illumination. “Delicious,” he growls softly, dragging his fingers over his dampened features and then nursing them clean.

His gaze focuses on the smear of crimson on your lower lip and he licks at that spot, sucking the wedge into his mouth, tasting that little copper tinged leakage of your lifeforce. You whimper and keen, feeling his hand guide one of yours to his crotch, pressing it against the erection straining there.

You squeeze gently and he huffs in pleasure, dragging your hand up and down. Needing no further guidance, you begin struggling with the belt buckle and button closure and zipper keeping you from your goal, dragging his cock through the opening flap of his briefs, smearing precum over the tip and eliciting another deep growl, the mouth nuzzling your throat vibrating in pleasure.

“Want to fuck you,” he gasps, and you find yourself nodding, no longer caring about the exposed location or what you’re about to let invade your body. You want it, the brief satiety you’d just enjoyed already dissipating, leaving you hungry for more.

His hands loop around the back of your thighs, his body crouching slightly then lifting you up, your dress scraping along the bricks. He fucks up into you and your legs wrap around him, your wrists draped over his shoulders as you’re thrust into and back against the building.

The milkman’s copycat prick is large, long and thick, stretching you as he fills you when his hips snap forward. Your unprotected buttocks suffers abrasions each time you’re impaled but you couldn’t care less. The pain is lost amidst the pleasure you’re experiencing as he buries himself deeply, withdrawing just slightly before driving forward again. Your mouths seek one another’s but it’s difficult with all the jostling, a sloppy collision of wet lips and wetter tongue, trails of saliva linking your panting openings.

“Your stitches…the strain, you shouldn’t…you’re bleeding,” you gasp, the hand that snakes down finding his shirt sticky with blood.

“Don’t care…fix it later…”

Your breasts are tender from the repeated battering of his chest against yours. You’re being pummeled mercilessly now, the invader pushing so hard it’s as if he’s trying to merge completely with you. You almost think you can see, just for a moment, a shift in the facial features, a glimpse of the doppelgänger’s true form lurking beneath the false human surface, but then it’s gone and it’s just those soft tired eyes and that slack, generous mouth as his cock pounds into your cunt until your body finally surrenders to another release, your muscles clenching, sucking at his member. He chases his own climax, moaning against your mouth, pumping streams of hot seed inside of you.

You realize then you’re both sweating, both drenched in perspiration and saliva, blood from his reopened wound and cum that leaks out of you and coats the erection he withdraws from your body as he slowly lowers you back to the ground, your stockinged feet touching the dirty road, your shoes lying nearby where they’d tumbled during the rough intercourse with the alien creature.

The doppel retrieves your panties and you hastily shove them into the purse he hands you. There’s no way you’ll be putting those back on after being in the dirty alley, almost laughing aloud at the idea when you’ve just been soiled by something you should consider disgusting. The amusement fades as you watch him brush the sole of each nylon clad foot clean before assisting them back into your pumps, the gesture almost oddly tender and thoughtful.

The doppelgänger straightens, his fingers reflexively reaching for the bloodied area staining his shirt, then moving to refasten his pants. His eyes meet yours again, waiting to see what you’ll do next. Wondering if there is regret, perhaps. Or if this is the start of…something.

“I…I live two streets over. We’re nearly there.” As if you hadn’t been interrupted on your journey home. You don’t know what to say, just wanting to fill the sudden silence.

He nods and you begin walking in slow, measured steps. Your limbs are still tingling, the aftershocks of your most recent orgasm still firing through them.

You and your companion reach your destination. The building looms up between two shuttered shops. Five stories. No elevator. You resided on the top floor. A lot of stairs to tackle on a good night when you’d merely worked a shift at the diner. Now, after this…

“It’s a long trek. I’m on the fifth floor. Will you be okay walking that much? I don’t know where else to stitch you back up again. I need to wash it, I need a good light source, I…” You’re inviting him inside your apartment. The realization suddenly dawns on you.

“Yes, I’ll manage.” He pauses. “Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“Helping me avoid the DDD earlier. This. Letting me into your home.”

You nod, your hand resting on the rusted railing that borders a flight of cement steps leading inside the building. The nearby street lamp flickers, a bulb that was long overdue for a change, the filaments within struggling.

“Of course. People should help each other.” You ascend the stairs, holding open the door for him.

He nods gratefully. “I’m not human, though. I’m the enemy.”

“Are you?” Your voice sounds wary at this reminder and you pause at the top of the first landing.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, following you up the next flight of stairs.

“Until the debt is repaid?”

“You don’t trust me.” It’s a statement, not a query.

“I don’t know how I feel.” You’ve reached the third floor. Despite his bravado earlier, you see him wincing slightly, his breathing ragged as he keeps one hand pressed to the injury. You wait for him to recover but he waves his other hand, indicating you should continue your journey.

“Did you enjoy it?”

The words make you halt abruptly and he nearly collides with you. You hurry up to the next landing and clear your throat before you give voice to your admission. “Yes, I enjoyed it,” you say when he reaches your side.

“Will we do that again?”

“Now?”

His solemn features break out into a smile. Handsome. The milkman whose appearance he’d copied was attractive, especially like this. You like the curve of that mouth, the flash of his teeth. “No, not now. I’m hardly in any condition to…I meant later,” he adds for clarification. “Another time.”

“Oh. Yes.” A sudden thought occurs to you. “Will you be safe from the patrol? On the way back, to wherever…”

“I’ll manage. Don’t worry.” He steps closer to you. “Are you that anxious to be rid of me?”

“No, I only meant…” You shake your head, feeling flustered.

“Were you looking for me tonight? When you were behind the diner. Hoping I’d be there, maybe?”

“Why would I…I hardly know you.”

“You know me a little better now though, right?” He crowds you back against the wall of the stairwell. You’re thinking maybe injury or not, he still wants you. You can feel the desire radiating from his eyes, his lips hovering close to yours. “You’re really something special, aren’t you? Out of all the humans to run into, and I find the only one who’s willing to take a chance on me, risk…” His voice trails off before he kisses your mouth. It seems impossible there would be any passion left inside of you to respond but you find your lips melting against his, one hand curling around the nape of his neck, holding the doppelgänger close.

534 notes · View notes

euryfix · 5 months

Note

Hii can I request scenarios or hcs, whichever you prefer, for a gn reader who wants to do intimate stuff with the character but backs out last minute (due to nervousness/trauma) when they're getting close to the act and it's the character comforting them afterwards? characters being chuuya, ranpo (any other of your choice:>) ty in advance!

sex is temporary— love is eternal ^_< -★

☆ parings: ranpo ; dazai ; chuuya ; nanami ; toji x gn!reader

☆. when your attempts at intimacy fail, worry not! your boyfriend will always somehow find a way to balance the mood back into place— comfort ensues

☆. cw: sexual themes (nothing happens tho), ranpo is a mind reader + dazai too💀, cussing in chuuyas/tojis, mindless bickering in chuuyas/tojis, hurt/comfort, it's implied that reader freezes up before chuuya notices them, actions speak louder than words in dazais (not a lot of comforting with words like the rest), secret artist nanami⁉️, pet names. LOTS of pet names, 'babe' is used in toji's part, reader does some embarrassing shit in nanami's part (they cry in embarrassment), I THINK I DID MY BOYS OOC BY ACCIDENT 😭... lmk if i accidentally used a fem term/if im missing any tags!

☆. ik i don't usually do 5 charas but i made an exception + attempted scenarios...💀

— #Ranpo

you sucked in a breath when you saw the time. it was nearing the end of the day and your boyfriend was due home soon. at one point during the day, you considered backing out of your plans, but considering that dinner was already done, you decided to keep going.

hearing the door slam open and the loud announcement of your boyfriend's arrival was enough to get you up and springing to your feet, almost tripping over yourself as you stomped them into your slippers.

"[name]!" ranpo laughs with glee as he throws himself at you, his shoes flying off him at the same time. "welcome home," you stifle a laugh as you catch him— the detective burrowing his head into your neck.

"im home," he repeats before cranking his neck to the side, "dinner already?" you hum as you took his hand into yours and guided him to the kitchen where you prepared dinner. "yep! and it's all for you to eat," you say as you sit him down into a chair across from yours, "so eat up, because today's our special day."

a little 'yay' erupted from the small detective as he picked up a spoon from the side— the tofu soup you made for this special occasion was enough to get his mouth watering despite the main course being at the center of the table.

you stare at him as you poke at your food. the dish you had plated for yourself was starting to lose its steam, but you didn't mind reheating it up later. you dazed off, the expression you had on your face was enough to get ranpo's attention— his food protruding from one puffed cheek while his eyes flutter open.

he waits for a moment or two to allow you to snap out of whatever daydream you were stuck in, the tense look on your face never easing.

you heard a sigh coming from across the table— emerald eyes digging itself into your own colored eyes. the feeling of being ripped open thought by thought like a page in a book was enough to have you squiggling in your seat.

"ugh! why are you simpletons so weird!!!" he threw his arms in the air as your heart rate fastened from his sudden outburst. "what?" as soon as you said that, ranpo slammed his spoon down— his chair screeching as he stomped over to you.

he pulls you up from your chair as he drags the both of you into the living room. you could tell he was annoyed by his puffed out cheeks that were still evident on his face. "sit," he ordered, pointing to the sofa as he went to grab the remote.

"uh- okay...?" still confused with his actions, you waited until your boyfriend returned with the remote after turning off the lights— plopping himself down next to you, ranpo didn't say a word and went to go to hbo max once the tv was on. "ranpo?" you ask from his side, only to be hushed by the silence.

you stare at the tv with movies and shows scrolling by, the intensity of the situation leaving you scared about what's to come next. it wasn't until he found a movie to watch that his silence broke, "y'know..," he says, voice gentle and unlike the usual loud complaints you'd hear every day, "there are other ways to spend our anniversary together."

slowly turning his head back to you, you could see his face from the corner of your eye. "sexual intimacy isn't the only kind of intimacy," he pauses for a moment to allow you to face him before resuming, "so don't ever think you have to give your body up to me just because you were advised to by internet strangers and random sex articles online." he finishes, and you're speechless.

you shouldn't even be surprised though, it wasn't like he wasn't the smartest person you've ever met in your entire lifetime. he pretty much answered your biggest concern without having to pry it from you, but there was something else you wanted to ask him.

"why?" it was a simple question. as another was about to come out of you, ranpo cuts you off. "i want to do it on your own terms. not mine, not your friends, and definitely not some internet stranger- just yours."

he felt around for your hand and gave it a squeeze after wrapping his around yours, "and only yours," his expression was stern— you gulped down a ball of saliva in your throat as you felt the dam start cracking. "why?"

this time, a sob left your throat as tears trekked down your cheeks, "why? why?! why don't you want to call me pretty like they would?! why?! why-.." you hiccup, "is it so hard for you to call me perfect?!-"

"-you are perfect."

he wipes your tear ridden face as he brings you into his embrace, "and i don't need to force sexual innuendos to tell you that you're perfect. so i'll say it again." he kisses your tears away.

"you're perfect."

— #Dazai

"chocolate or white?" you pointed to the two different flavored chocolates in the box. dazai put his fingers on his chin, "mm.. your favorite?" he says, and you sigh. the two of you had been at this for a while now— not being able to decide what kind of flavor you both wanted to bring home.

"i don't think it matters, does it?" dazai asks while looking in your direction, and you nod your head, "it doesn't, but shouldn't we get the one that we're sure we're going to buy?" you answered with a question, and your boyfriend looked away for a moment before turning his attention back onto the chocolates.

"both then," he smiles before waving his hand in the air to catch one of the employees' attention. "excuse me! can we have these two chocolates? yes, both chocolate and white," he affirms with the lady behind the counter, "thank you very much!"

once you two pay for your desserts, you start to snicker, attempting to stifle it with the palm of your hand. unfortunately for you, your boyfriend was a perceptive being, and he noticed your failed attempt anyway. "heyy! why are you laughing at me?"

"i'm not," you managed to get out as dazai whines even more, "you are! i can tell you are!" he pokes you, and you roll your eyes, palm still above your mouth, "oh yeah? and how do you know that?"

"because i do, and you're not that very good at hiding your expressions, love." you gasp at his honest review of your control over your facial expressions and lightly punched his arm. "of course i am, you're just.. very good at being able to read me!" that statement wasn't wrong, though. your boyfriend truly was able to read you like an open book.

rounding the corner, you were listening to dazai complain about his work today, like every other day. despite his continuous rants, you couldn't help but zone out— zone on his lips. the slightly chappy surface, courtesy to you applying your own chapstick on his lips was entrancing you. trapping you in an endless loop of wanting to smash your lips against his and overthinking what his reaction might be.

would he kiss back? would he smother you in kisses? would he push you back and spit out your dna?

all common questions that suddenly pop up into your head as soon as you think of any intimate moments with your boyfriend. whether your boyfriend knew of this problem or not, you didn't know, but you also certainly didn't want to tell him. it was nothing but simple thoughts that'd go away on its own.

you knew the ice had to break soon, but for some reason, you just couldn't get yourself to crack it all the way through. "[name]?" dazai's voice had brought you back to where you were at. it was the bus stop, and the two of you were seated. "huh?- oh, yeah?" you acknowledged him this time, and he couldn't help but give you a look of worry.

"is everything alright?" he asks, and you hum, "yeah, don't worry about it." — "are you sure?" he was quick to ask again, but you shot it down. "it's nothing! really, just.. i dunno? wanna kiss you?"

he pauses for a momentarily before bursting into a fit of giggles. "what?" you questioned point blank before seeing him point to his puckered up lips. "kiss?" he says, a little muffled due to the duck lips he was making. "i- what?"

you froze for a bit, understanding his intentions but also not understanding it. should you go for it? wait- yeah, you should. he's literally waiting right there for you with puckered up lips— you swear you see sparkles all around him and in his eyes.

his lips fell into a pout, "no kiss?" he questions, and you shook your head out of thought, "no- yes! kiss, uh-.. what are you doing?" you ended with a question. your boyfriend smiles down at you, "kissing you!"

you stare at him bewildered as he bumps your noses together while looking straight into your eyes, "what are you doing?" you repeated, and he gave you an endearing answer.

"eskimo kisses!!!"

— #Chuuya

"you suck ass," chuuya says from behind you, the board beneath his feet gliding over to you smoothly. "well, excuse you.." you mutter, picking yourself up as your boyfriend kicked your skateboard over for you, "you're welcome, booboo bear~" he gave you a teasing grin while you middle finger-gunned him.

"suck my 10ft dick, nakahara," you roll your eyes and lightly push him away from your board— he let out a little 'woah' from the action and had to rebalance himself after he fell from his board. "i would if mine wasn't bigger," he smirks to himself and you.

"yeah, thicker. not longer," you bark back. truth be told, you've never seen his dick before, despite being together for as long as you guys were dating for. it wasn't like you two didn't struggle being intimate with each other— well, more like you and chuuya had to adjust to it, but that didn't pose a problem in your guys' relationship.

the two of you had talked about it before and agreed to set boundaries on the matter. one of it being that chuuya wouldn't touch you inappropriately and another being that whenever he's horny, he would use a code word to indicate his special time.

and so far, it has worked out great for the two of you. there are times that whenever you hear his quiet grunts from the bathroom, you couldn't help but imagine what it'd be like to be the one pleasuring him, but you always swat those images away— getting too embarrassed to even think about it.

"help me," you extend your arms and make little grabby hands. chuuya rolls his eyes as he drops his board to help you balance, "careful," he says quickly after letting go of your hands slowly. "i got it, i got it," you reply with half acknowledgement to his warning and let out a sigh of relief when you finally fixed your balance. "heh- luckily." — "the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"nothing," he brushes off his remark with a sweet smile; fake. "liar," you groan as he hops onto his board, "sorry sweets, let me make it up to you with ice cream?" he apologized while pointing into the direction of the nearby plaza. "fine," you shrug your shoulders, attempting to hide the smile growing on your face.

chuuya, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his— the grin still being evident on his face even after you guys were sitting out on the curb of the sidewalk with ice cream cones in your hands. "this is surprisingly good," he licks his lips, the ice cream he got was strawberry and chocolate chip mint on top.

"is it?" you ask, using a napkin to wipe your chin, and he hums. "delicious," he moans, "so damn delicious- okay!" he stops once he feels a punch to the side of his arm. "the fuck was that for?" — "you don't see people starin'?" you raise your brow as his eyes start to widen. you could see the faint red on his cheek as soon as he started to realize the group of kids with their parents staring at him weirdly.

"well!" he coughs, "who cares.." he turns away, not being able to handle the embarrassing moment. you laugh at his misfortune, "that's what your dumbass gets!" — "shut the fuck up!" he groans into his hand as your laughter increased.

after the initial bickering of you two, there was silence that came after. people around you might even say tranquil peace, but that was just the outside— inside, you were feeling your pounding heart accelerate. even more so the more you glanced his way.

noticing your weird glances, chuuya looks your way at the same time as you do to force eye contact. "what? is there something on my face?" you shook your head and turned away quietly, staring into nothing as your ice cream dripped onto the pavement. "then what?"

"nothing," you say. even though you say that now, you know your boyfriend will somehow pry it out of you. "say it," he demanded, his body now slightly turned to you, "was it something i did?-" — "no." — "then what? tell me."

silence.

chuuya let out a big sigh before leaning over a bit so he had a full view of your face. "please tell me, pretty?" god- he was lucky he was cute.

when you go to open your mouth, you freeze, feeling your heart skip a beat. it was a stupid question, but.. ah, fine fuck it. "do you ever feel or get frustrated with me?"

he stares at you before asking you what you meant by that, "it's just, i don't know how to explain it," you shrug your shoulders, "do you ever regret being with someone who isn't sexually active?" — "oh- so that's what's tainting your pretty little head?"

"what?" you ask, confused by his reaction. sure yeah, that's been bothering you since the beginning, but you didn't think he'd say that. "listen," he used his other hand to bring your head close to his lips, "i'm horny, but not horny enough to wanna' to fuck you like a rabbit- i mean sometimes i do think 'bout it, but," he kisses your forehead and pushes your head into his neck, "sex is supposed to be loving-"

"-and i wanna' love you when you're ready," he half hugs you, gently massaging your head. yeah, comforting was never his forte, but he tries for you.

— #Toji

"you ready, babe?" toji calls from the hallway, his heavy footsteps treading closer. "yeah! give me a minute!" you yell back, fixing up a stray strand of hair through the mirror. "lookin' sexy," he says as he leans against the doorframe. you roll your eyes at his obvious teasing comment, but thank him anyway.

"kay', 'm done," you say as you walk over to your boyfriend, hooking your arm over his as he led you both outside to where the car was at. "can i be passenger princess this time?" he asked, and you shot him a look of interest, "for real?" — "nah get your ass on the other side," he shot down your hopes as he opened the car door for you, "ugh," you scoffed at him while he gave you a fake smile.

toji slams the door shut after you're settled in and opens the other door to let himself in. "me or you?" he asks, referring to the aux. "me," you say as you connect your phone to the car. the bluetooth connection making a sound of security, and you opened up spotify. you scrolled through your playlist to play a song that both you and toji would listen to and eventually found one.

"god, your taste sucks ass," he says as he cranks up the volume. "well, fuck you too!" you laugh as you middle finger-gunned him, the engine revving as he backs out.

the music blasting through the car drowned out any noise— the bass rippling through the seats as cars around rolled their eyes at the obnoxiously loud car racing down the street to get to its destination.

you sigh as you sink into the seat, the wind hitting your face perfectly. your eyes watched the vast amount of buildings passing by, the honks and horns coming from others as toji swerved around them, was a normal occurrence. your boyfriend could give a damn about traffic laws.

the car came to a slow pace as the red light approached, turning when the rest of the cars passed. there were bright neon lights dancing in the sky as you neared the club. the walkers now looking like coked out sluts and pant saggers— "look at that shit," toji smiles to himself amused as he catches your attention.

it was a statue of two people having sex in the water fountain. "freaky," he comments one last time before turning his attention back to the road, moving behind the cars in a U to get to the club's parking lot. "are they seriously using its dick to make it look like cum?" you laugh at the sight of water spewing out of its dick and onto the other statue. "if they are, they're doing a horrible job. no man lasts that long- besides me, of course," he winks at you and you look away from his smug face.

"you wish," you leer, but couldn't help but feel your stomach flutter a bit. was that a hint to something?... nahh, you were just digging way too deep into this.

the sound of tires screeching, and the seatbelt pressing against your chest as the car halts was enough to tell you that you were at your destination. "damn," toji mutters from under his breath, "long line. we might have to wait at the lot," he finishes.

"that many cars?" you ask, and he nods his head, "shits' a high end club- vips from all around the world," answering your question, toji made a quick left turn and found a parking space. "lucky us, close to the building," he cheers.

the song playing had just ended, and now you two were sitting in silence. your thoughts kept flashing back to his unwarranted comment earlier, hot flashes of xxx images zipping by.

you took a glance at your boyfriend who was watching podcasts and quickly turned away from him once he noticed your eyes on him. "what?" he questions, "wanna' sit on my lap, or something?" — "no!" — "it's free for ya', just sayin'."

you thought about it for a moment before deciding to contradict what you said and just go for it. "woah! what's all this?" toji says, surprised as he lifts his arms to make way for your incoming body, "not that i'm complain' or anything."

once you were comfortably seated, you turned your attention back towards him— who was already staring at you. "i-" you opened your mouth, but suddenly you were unable to speak. your mind was blogged, and your words were stacking on each other, making it harder to force it out.

you couldn't move, you felt yourself breathing, you noticed the way his chest moved up and down, you noticed- "[name], breathe."

toji threw his phone to the side and brought you onto his chest, rubbing your back slowly. "i'm sorry," you start shaking, "i promise i-"

"shh, shh," toji whispers into your ear. he feels wet patches start to form on his shirt, but he doesn't care. "i don't care about all of that 'fucking is a must in relationships' bullshit," he starts, planting a peck on your ear, "so don't promise me shit, i know that we can work around together," he finished with a flick to your forehead.

— #Nanami

a soft knock echoed through the room, "come in," you heard the voice from behind the door say. opening the door, you were met with rows of encased books, alongside other files hidden within the piles. a bit messy, but still looked neat nonetheless.

nanami's office was mature-like, structured, and organized. but at the same time, it felt homey. probably because it was in your guys' house, but that didn't matter when he still made time to decorate his office full of you guys.

one notable feature that stood out in his office was the painting behind him; a portrait of you. your boyfriend had hung it up one day after he asked you if he could paint you. the initial shock of learning that nanami was somewhat skilled artistically made you excited and giddy.

it was a skill not many people knew nanami had, and if you were being honest, you'd keep it that way. for some reason, the fact that he willingly showed you that he could paint made you want to keep it a special secret that only the two of you knew about.

"i brought water for you," you said as you walked into the office, closing the door softly before walking over to him. "you didn't have to," nanami smiles at you softly as he takes the cup from your extended hand. "nana, you need to hydrate yourself if you're going to be working for hours non-stop," you replied back.

nana was a nickname you came up with during your guys' time at the summer festival in kyoto. at the time, he would always brush it off whenever the nickname was brought up— but as time moved forward, so did he with the nickname. in fact, he loved it as much as you do now. he just doesn't show it.

"i know, i'm sorry if i worry you sometimes," he apologizes before resuming his typing on the computer. you stood beside him as he was working on reports, taking in the full view of his office from there. glancing over your boyfriend's shoulder, you see vast amounts of unread emails sent by strangers you didn't know. some you recognized— them being his partner gojo, but that's about it.

you heard your boyfriend release a tense sigh as he opened up one of gojo's emails. it was littered with duck memes and a question asking his opinion about the ceo of tiktok vs. the congress videos.

"wasn't that in march? why is he talking about it now?" he mutters in one breath, you didn't know whether it was directed towards you or not, so you decided against answering.

nanami had multiple veins atop his forehead by the time he was done reading gojo's emails. he threw his back to release tension, "i'm going to print every single email of his and plaster it on the walls of the academy," he groans and looks up to you. "what's the matter?" he asks as he sits back up, turning his chair to face you.

"it's nothing," you say as you straighten yourself up. "just.. is there any way i can help relieve your stress? like.. run a bath for you?" you ask nervously. normally, nanami pushed away any help from you if he could still function without busting a blood vessel.

"[name]," nanami turns his chair fully as he took your hands into his, "thank you for the offer, but i'm particularly busy with responding to emails right now, as well as finishing up reports," he says, "it's going to be a long night, so don't stay up for me. sleep well."

you didn't respond to his initial sentence, "are you sure there aren't any other ways?" — "i'm sure," he cuts you off, "please go to sleep, love."

instead of listening to him, you awkwardly drop to your knees and take your hands back— "um- are you sure..? that there's nothing else.. i.. could do?.." you placed your hands on your lap as your lashes fluttered at him. your eyes moving from one place to another, avoiding his entirely. 'oh my god, this was so embarrassing' you thought to yourself.

nanami stares at your stiffened form, wide eyed. "[name]?" he says your name, "get up? please..?" he attempted to reason with you, but all words got clogged in his throat as he watched tears roll down your cheeks. "[name]," he says your name again, softly this time.

he gets up from his seat and kicks it away, crouching down to your level as he uses his handkerchief to wipe away your tears. "na-nanami..." you hiccup, finally noticing how wet your cheeks were. "it's alright darling, I'm here, it's okay," he whispers lovingly in front of you as he pulls you up with him.

you didn't say anything as he grabs your hand as gently as he could, leading the two of you out of his office. "im sorry, i don't know why i just can't-" — "don't ever apologize for that ever again- much less even attempt it."

"i'm not mad," nanami clarified in his last response, "or weirded out. just don't do something that makes you cry," he stops in front of the bathroom door. "don't do something that makes us both upset, i don't ever wanna see you cry because of sexual pressure ever again," he opens the door. "understand me?"

"...yes," you answer as his expression softens up. nanami closes the lid of the toilet and makes you sit there. he turns on the tap after he plugged the drain, "citrus or lavender tonight?" he asks you as he holds up the two bath oils.

rbs and comments appreciated <3<3

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euryfix · 5 months

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Thank you for all the notes, consider being moots with me!!!

Yours Truly,

Eurydice~

#i need moots #totally normal #looking for moots #ilysm #fanfic #welcome to my blog #blogger #girlblogging #i'm beggin you

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euryfix · 5 months

Note

hii can i have sfw relationship headcanons with jotaro kujo? thank you in advance and have a nice day!

Jotaro Kujo x Reader

sfw Headcanons

Jotaro is a pretty picky person when it comes to relationships. He is very closed off and hard to get to open up.

So if he picks you to be his partner it’s because he truly loves and cares for you.

He’s not that fond of PDA but whenever he can get you alone he’s very affectionate.

He’ll hug you from behind while resting his head on your shoulder. Sometimes he’ll even kiss you softly on your neck.

When you guys are cuddling he loves to be big spoon. He likes the feeling of him keeping you safe!

While you guys are out together (shopping, on a date, etc..) he won’t let you out of his sight. He just doesn’t want anything to happen to you.

He’s very protective of you. If he sees someone be even a little rude/flirty towards you he’ll immediately take action.

Something Jotaro loves about you is that you treat him softer than others, you were like this even before you guys started dating. People see Jotaro as this cold, strong guy but you always saw that his soft side was something you’d have to really get to know him to be able to see.

When he goes on his long adventures he makes sure to call and update you on everything that happens. If there isn’t a place to call he’ll write you these cute letters

The letters usually arrive with some kind of gift, something like flowers, jewelry, or anything that reminded him of you.

When he gets home he’ll never leave your side. You guys would stay at home together all day doing stuff like watching movies, cooking together, going on dates, and cuddling!

Thank you for requesting and reading!!

Yours truly,

Eurydice~

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #jojo x reader #jjba jotaro #jjba #jjba x reader #jotaro x reader #star platinum #x reader #headcanon #jojo headcanons #jotaro headcanons #jjba headcanons #sfw little post #sfw headcanons #x reader headcanons #fluff #jjba fluff

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euryfix · 5 months

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Sightless Citrus

Blank as I am blind

Blind as I am broken

And I’m not blind

Nor am I dense

But it seems that I’m blinded by your actions

Too blind to see

See that you never will care for me

like I care for you

Yours truly,

Eurydice~

#poetry #poets on tumblr

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euryfix · 6 months

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─── xxx...mr. mafia!

paring: n. chuuya x fem!reader/self insert

— ᥫ᭡ : the strange redhead you healed a few weeks back has been nothing but persistent on getting you to join 'mori corp'. what happens when you are found by him in the middle of the night? an official recruitment to the port mafia happens, of course.

— ❣︎ : recruiting, literally false advertising their slogan, smug n teasing chuuya, reader is a very dumb bitch *i dumbified her guys*, THIS HAS NO PLOT GUYS !! just wanted to write chuuya, idk what else to put here

— ♡ : another self-indulgent fic except it's a self insert with my husband bc I've been neglecting him </3

-- wc : 930+

“boo,” a whisper came from behind you.

you jumped up from where you were squatting at and clutched your ear, “what the fuck?!” you scream as you turned around to see what kind of sick crazy fuck likes scaring girls in the middle of the night.

upon turning around, you were met with a redhead beauty who adorned a devilish smirk. “the hell is wrong with you??” you ask him— he, in return, just gave you a lopsided smile along with another business card in his hand. “pretty and strong girls belong in the workforce, no?”

“no,” you deadpan and turn away. he crouches down to pick up the business card you smacked away from his hand before it flew away.

a meow interrupted the scene, and you spin your head back to where the cat was— only for it to be running elsewhere. “no!!” you cry, “the cat!”

chuuya looked past you and saw the cat jumping off a container, “cats gone,” he shrugs his shoulders. “consider it?” he held out the business card again, and you scoffed, “i'd have already considered joining mori corp if you were 90’s hot.”

“90’s hot?” chuuya repeats, confused as hell when you smack the business card back to the ground. “yep.” you confirm as you walk around him. chuuya stood there gobsmacked for a moment before turning on his heels to follow after you.

“wait-” he grabs your arm, “-the hell does that even mean?”

“what else do you think it means?” you sigh and try to yank your arm back, “it means leonardo dicaprio.” you scoff, “and give me my arm back!” you huffed— chuuya watched you struggle getting his grip off you, “okaayy, so not so strong?” he teases, and you just wanted to slap that stupid sloppy smirk off his face.

“hey!” chuuya jumps back as he blocks your incoming bag, “pretty girls can still join!- you don't always have to be strong,” he points to himself, “we've plenty of that already.”

you roll your eyes, “ughh.. don't tell me you're the persistent type.” you moan and chuuya gave you another smile, “aww, how'd you know? didn't know i already caught your attention.” — “you didn't!”

he laughs to himself, “yeah whatever you say.”

you bit your tongue, refraining from spouting the meanest bullshit known to man. this man who was just an inch deep under your skin made you want to grab a knife and cut him out— scratch that, cut him up.

chuuya notices your off distance stare at him, it was a glare- what else would it be? but there was something else going on behind those eyes of yours.

as he was about to ask you what you were thinking about, you answered it for him.

“what are you doing here?” you blurted out, and it was a question that surprised him a little. surely you knew about this area of yokohama, right? “...i offered the boss to patrol around this area..?” he answers, undecided on whether he should actually tell you the real reason why he was here tonight.

“or you were assigned by your boss to recruit me to the port mafia.” you cross your arms, not believing a word he just uttered, “am i wrong?” chuuya puts his arms up in defeat— like a thief who just got caught lying up their ass. “alright, alright- you caught me.”

his sudden nonchalant attitude caught you off guard— where was the teasing asshole who never left you alone ever since you saved him from death that day? “woah,” you say amused, “what's with the mean tone, mr. mafia?”

chuuya smiled at the nickname you just gave him. you couldn't tell whether it was genuine or not, “[last n.] [first n.], official business is to be spoken privately.” his tone is blank. the sudden change of demeanor gave you a whiplash.

“um.. yeah.. so, what do you want me to do about it?” you squint your eyes— starting to feel nervous. confrontation wasn't your forte, and to be honest— you'd probably cry if he'd yell at you when you finally break under pressure.

chuuya didn't say anything but hand you another business card, this time it was red and written in black ink. “the port mafia wants to officially recruit you [name], meet us at these coordinates, and we'll continue our discussion there.”

you took the card and scanned the front of it— it looked expensive, the pristine coating proved it. you flipped it around and found the coordinates engraved on the back, and under it was the time of the official rendez-vous.

“if you are a no show by any means..” you snapped your head back up, chuuya's face close to yours, “..-then we'd have to rid you from yokohama.” his deep voice made you shudder, the back of your hairs standing as you froze up.

you gulped when he gazed into your eyes. it was so dead and blank inside— no light reflecting off of it could change the way it made you feel at that very moment. still, you were a dumb bitch, “you still didn't answer my question.”

chuuya stared at you, humored at your boldness. stupid, but feisty— he always liked some spunk in his women. “i would answer your question, love to actually, but you already guessed the reason why i came here.”

“oh, i know- how about you answer my question this time?” his tone switched back to its flowy self as he took a step back, his smile— now you knew was nothing but fake, adorned his face “why are you in mafia territory sweetheart?”

°° ©churuai ; don't repost my works to other sites, copy/plagiarize my works, or translate my works into a different language without my permission. if you intend to use most of my ideas from a post of mine, please don't forget to credit ♡

rbs and comments appreciated <3<3

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