#and I'll read the tags many times over and kick my feet like a giddy little school girl lol
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tbh I've always found those "liking posts are USELESS if you care about artists you have to REBLOG" posts to be agonizingly entitled. That kind of tone, as if not reblogging something is Morally Wrong somehow, sucks pretty bad. Like, damn, I fully get the sentiment bc reblogging IS how artists get discovered and that's an integral part of this site, but also an artist doesn't get to demand free advertisement from me by trying to shame or guilt trip me.
The tone just feels disrespectful towards audiences, treating them like selfish machines that need to be trained to output maximum Engagement Numbers because they're Doing It Wrong. Posts that just explain the difference between likes and reblogs are fine, but I usually see variations of the same "no likes, only reblogs" sentiment instead.
just... venting some thoughts ig, curious about your opinion if you wanted to share your thoughts on the subject
I know your followup message said I didn't have to reply but I'd like to anyway
I definitely was personally more caught up on wanting people to reblog my art before but I think that comes with having been on the site a long time and seeing the culture slowly shift? There is definitely a much larger ratio of likes to reblogs now then there use to be and that is a bit discouraging as an artist in a way? I 100% get that at least and def still obviously want reblogs and engagement (and especially comments left in tags those make me happiest!)
But I also 100% get not always wanting to reblog a art piece you see. I'm very gulity of just liking a post but not wanting to reblog it for whatever reason.
Reblogs are obviously important but I think at the very least liking a post at least shows it was seen! Sharing my art means I want it to be seen. If people dont want to reblog it for whatever reason thats fine but at least liking it lets me know people saw it and helps keep me wanting to share ya know?
I've seen people post art and put like "dont like unless you reblog" and that left a bad taste in my mouth and made me not even like the post because I didn't want to reblog it...
Idk its kind of a complicated thing... artists do need reblogs but the audience isnt obligated to do so but likes do also matter as well (at least to me) cause at then you know your stuff is being seen
#zuka replies#I'm really rambling here sorry lol#idk what point im trying to make...#other then I do appreciate likes just so I know my art is being seen#and dont expect people to always reblog my art#but if you so reblog my art#and ESPECIALLY if you leave little comments in the tags#know i am sending you sweet forehead kisses of appreciation#and I'll read the tags many times over and kick my feet like a giddy little school girl lol
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6. troublemaker
★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader
★ ❝ Did you miss me? ❞ ❝ Only a little. ❞
★ c.w.: smoking, smut, lots of filthy dirty talk omg. (more content warnings and tags)
★ a/n: i hated writing this chapter only bc its like omg. i just want everyone to be HAPPYYYYY!! ugh. I tried to make it slow burny but as you can see that did not work out. I missed aki too much to bear it. Anyway! I'm finishing up the last few chapters in google docs (dw there are many chapters you will see before i post them, i like to be prepared is all) and im thinking of how to end the story. Leave suggestions! Keep them comments coming, I love reading through them! I be, like, kicking my feet n shit.
★ w.c: .5.5k
shameless ; chapter index
THE MORNING LIGHT FILTERED SOFTLY through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. You stirred, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. His arm was still draped over you, holding you close. As you opened your eyes, you found yourself face to face with him. He was already awake, his gaze warm and soft, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice husky.
Yesterday was real. He was real.
"Morning," You replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks. The two of you were still pressed bare chest to bare chest, a gesture so sickeningly intimate that you couldn't help but blush.
He brushed a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "How did you sleep?" he asked.
You smiled, feeling a little shy. "Better than I have in a long time," you admitted. "You?"
He chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling. "Like a baby," he said, his hand gently caressing your back. "You're a wild sleeper, though. Almost pushed me off the bed."
You laughed, feeling a lightness in your chest that you hadn't felt in ages. "And you're a wild lover. My back feels like shit," you teased, snuggling closer to him.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Sorry," he said quietly, his breath warm against your skin. "Wanna do it again sometime?"
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and for a moment, you were lost in the tender bliss of it all.
"When's sometime?" You dared to ask.
He grinned – giddy and breathless and pretty, "Right now works for me. You?"
You laughed, "Don't be greedy."
Still, you thought about it. You thought about rolling over and kissing his pretty face again, being close to him – feeling his hands on your hips while he slowly, lazily thrusted up into you.
But then, reality came crashing down on you. You had a train to catch and responsibilities to face. As much as you wanted to stay in this cocoon of warmth and affection with him forever – stay buried in his strong, sweet smelling arms – you knew you couldn't.
You glanced over at the clock on the bedside table and your eyes widened in alarm. "My train!" You exclaimed, quickly pulling away from him. You reached for your phone, checking the time.
Hurriedly, you got out of bed. You began gathering your things, slipping into your Public Safety suit and tie uniform. As you zipped up your suitcase, you caught his eye in the mirror. He was watching you with the most tender smile, and it made your heart ache.
"I'm going to have to call a cab," You said, smoothing out your uniform in the mirror. "I was going to walk, but... at this rate..." You trailed off, biting your lip.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about it," he said, getting out of bed. He came up behind you, his presence comforting. "I'll drive you."
You turned to face him, a look of surprise on your face. "You sure?" you asked, your voice soft. "I don't want to put you out of your way. I know you have work today."
You really, really, could get used to a sight like this – a handsome captain standing in nothing more than a pair of boxers behind you, admiring your uniform in the mirror like you were a fucking painting.
He smiled, a gentle, reassuring smile. "I can run a few minutes late," he said. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I want to make sure you get there safely."
It felt so good to be desired by him.
You felt a lump form in your throat. The way he held you, the concern in his voice—it was more than you had expected, more than you felt you deserved. You looked at your reflection in the mirror, meeting his eyes.
"I'll be fine, Aki," You said softly. You were a devil hunter, after all. You could defend yourself against anything.
"It's not up for debate," he said gently but firmly. "I'm taking you to the train station. Are you all packed?"
At this rate, I'm gonna fall for him.
"Yeah," You smiled breathlessly.
He landed a smack on your ass, "Then bring it here, and let's hit the road. If I look at you any longer, I'll give you a reason to miss the train."
"Fine," You laughed. "I'm carrying my own suitcase, though."
It was something you were used to doing. Something completely mindless – your husband never helped you with your bags, or anything like that.
"And have you lift a finger?" He retorted, "Over my dead body."
"Watch me," You grinned back.
You never did wind up carrying your suitcase to the car. Or opening the door, for that matter. Aki, a man true to his word, did not let you lift a finger.
.
The train station was the same way it had been when you'd arrived only a week or so earlier. The only different thing about it, in fact, was the fact that you were with the same man you had bumped into upon your arrival – and now he was carrying your luggage for you.
As you reached up to grab your suitcase, you collided with someone. Startled, you looked up to find yourself face-to-face with a man who immediately captured your attention. He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that spoke of both strength and discipline. His dark hair was tied back in a neat topknot, accentuating his sharp, angular features. But it was his eyes that held you—their piercing blue depths seemed to look straight through you, filled with a seriousness that made you catch your breath.
"Sorry—" he began, his voice a deep, resonant baritone that vibrated through the narrow space.
The butterfly effect was a strange thing, truly.
The two of you stopped in front of the tracks. He checked his wrist watch, parking your luggage right beside him. As if on cue, a train pulled into the station, screeching to an unceremonious stop. You had half of a mind to be upset about its arrival, as if you had been robbed of your precious time with him (even if it was only a few minutes, and even if the two of you had spent the entire car ride talking shit about coworkers).
"Just in time," He remarked.
You didn't know how to feel. Should you have been happy that you were finally able to leave your transgressions behind and return to your husband? If such was the case, then why did you feel as if you were leaving such a large part of you behind?
As if your heart was buried in Tokyo along with the memories of your past?
"Yup," You replied in a remarkably stupid fashion. As the doors of the train opened and passengers began pouring out, your heart dropped.
He observed you fondly, the faintest hint of affection in his stoic resting face – as if he was expecting you to make the first move.
So, not knowing what else to do, you bowed your head ever-so-slightly.
"Thank you for everything," You said. Then, struggling to find the words to say what you meant (I miss you already...? Will I ever see you again...? I wish I didn't have to leave...?), you added, "Okay. I guess this is it. Goodbye, Aki."
You turned to walk away, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on your chest. Every step felt like a betrayal.
Suddenly, you felt a firm but gentle grip on your arm. Before you could process what was happening, Aki pulled you back with a surprising urgency.
In an instant, his lips met yours in a kiss so passionate that it took your breath away. You stumbled backward, the sheer force of the moment making your knees weak, but his arm around your back secured you, holding you close to him – like he was afraid he would lose you if he let you go.
Time seemed to stop. The world around you blurred, and all you could focus on was the warmth of his lips and the pounding of your heart. His other hand moved to cup the side of your face, fingers gentle yet firm, as if he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Your hands instinctively found their way to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.
When he finally pulled away, you were both breathless. He looked at you, eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn't quite decipher. His cheeks were tinged with a slight blush, an endearing contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.
"Goodbye," he said softly, his voice slightly husky from the kiss. The faint blush on his cheeks deepened, giving him an almost boyish charm.
You could feel your face heating up, the blush spreading like wildfire. "Bye," you managed to say, your voice coming out more giddy than you intended. The giddiness in your tone mirrored the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you.
With one last lingering look, you turned and walked toward the train, toting your suitcase with you. As you reached the door and stepped inside, you couldn't resist glancing back. He was still standing there, watching you with a mixture of longing and resignation.
The doors closed with a final, echoing thud, and the train lurched forward. You found a seat by the window, your heart still racing. As the train pulled away, you watched Aki's figure grow smaller and smaller, until he was just a distant memory in the Tokyo landscape.
Like the night you had taken a cab to get away from him.
You sighed, resting your head against the window. The kiss lingered on your lips, a bittersweet reminder of what you were leaving behind. The train rumbled on, carrying you back to the life you knew – a life that, for some odd reason, seemed much emptier.
A faint buzz of your phone, and you were checking instantly. A part of you hoped it was him, begging you to get off the train, to stay with him, husband be damned.
AKI
| I hope I get to see you again soon.
| Get home safe.
Soon. Somehow, despite the heavy feeling in your chest that you were leaving something behind, you found it in yourself to smile. . . .
Deciding to take the more scenic route home, you opted out of boarding the bullet train. You rode local instead. You didn't even mind that you had to transfer three times, or that the commute took eight hours. It gave you some time to finish up the book you had packed, and even more time to catch up on the sleep you had lost the night before.
More importantly, above all else, you wouldn't have to see your husband so soon.
By the time you finally stumbled into the house – haphazardly tugging your suitcase along with you, it was bedtime. You found yourself hoping that your husband had gone to bed early, so that he wouldn't come all up on you expecting some sort of "I missed you" sex.
You kicked your shoes off in the foyer, and pulled your suitcase down the corridor until the voice of your husband called your name.
"You home?"
Fuck.
"Yeah!" you huffed, reluctantly following his voice towards your bedroom. You had hoped to slip in unnoticed, crawl into bed, and avoid any conversation altogether.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on you as you entered. He looked familiar – brown hair and tired eyes searching your face – but his presence didn't bring you the peace it once did. You could see the tension in his jaw, the furrow in his brow. He was waiting for something, perhaps an explanation, an apology, or a confession.
"How was your week?" he asked, his voice neutral but his eyes piercing.
"It was fun!" you said, trying to sound casual. "Met up with some old friends, got to meet some new ones..."
Images of Aki and you together flashed through your mind, and you felt a pang of guilt.
"I stayed up to talk to you, you know," he said, his tone harder now.
Your heart dropped. "About what?"
"These new friends of yours," he said. "Wouldn't happen to be one of your coworkers, would it?"
Shit. Fuck. Shit, fuck.
Did he know? Knowing him, he could have been drunk and jealous, and just talking out of his ass. Still, a part of you couldn't help but wonder.
You froze. "What are you getting at?"
"I'm saying I don't know what you thought you were doing in Tokyo," he said, his voice rising. "But word travels in Public Safety. There are rumors about you dancing around with a little Captain, or some shit."
He does know.
"That's ridiculous!" you snapped, your defensiveness rising. "The Captain and I are mutual friends with Himeno. She made introductions, and he bought us a round of drinks. They're blowing it out of proportion."
"Are they?" he shouted, standing up. "Then, you should really, really start clearing your name. You could very well have fucked him already."
"It's not like that!" you retorted, tears stinging your eyes. It was like that. "It's not my fault that people have nothing better to talk about. I'm in love with you, and only you."
You were lying. You knew you were lying. He knew you were lying.
"Bull shit," he scoffed. "We haven't made love in two weeks."
"I don't want to do this right now," you muttered, turning away. He was insufferable, as per usual. "I'm exhausted."
"You're always exhausted," he shot back. "Always too tired to talk, too tired to fuck. Then you go off on this work trip, and there are rumors about you at some party. What am I supposed to think?"
You felt a mix of guilt and frustration. "You're my husband. You're supposed to trust me," you said quietly. "I didn't cheat on you. Don't be a dick, it was just a dance!"
Truly, the irony of the entire conversation was not lost on you.
"Want to know the truth? I really don't give a shit if you cheat on me or not. I can have another woman in here tomorrow to take your place," Your husband's next words were cold and unforgiving, "You want to keep your white-picket-fence life? Then stop embarrassing me in public."
With tears streaming down your face, you slipped into a nightgown you had hung up on the dresser. The bed felt cold and uninviting as you slid under the covers, your husband's eyes still boring into you. You turned your back to him, staring at the wall, trying to will yourself to sleep.
The damage was already done, the emotional distance between you and your husband growing wider with each passing moment. The bed felt even colder now, and you closed your eyes, hoping for sleep to come quickly and take you away from the reality you were living.
Lying there, you couldn't help but replay the moments with Aki in your mind. The way he made you feel alive, seen, and wanted. You felt a deep pang of guilt, knowing you had betrayed your husband's trust. Yet, part of you couldn't bring yourself to regret it entirely.
The fact of the matter was that Aki had filled a void in your life, one that you hadn't even realized was there until he came along.
Aki was ten times the man your husband could ever dream of being.
The hustle and bustle of Tokyo played in your mind, the energy of the people, and the warmth of a certain dark, handsome Captain. You even found yourself missing Himeno, her infectious laughter and the way she always knew how to lighten the mood. But most of all, you missed the secret moments with Hayakawa, the stolen kisses, the way he breathed passion into your name. Your heart ached with the memory of it all.
"I hope I'm wrong," Your husband said, his voice low and steady – a reminder of all that you had lost by settling down with him so young. "But, above all else, I hope I don't have to tell you that cheating is insulting to a man like me and stupid for a woman like you."
A man like him. You could nearly laugh at the prospect of your husband being grouped into any sort of high category. He was a piece of shit. That's what he was, and it was getting progressively harder to ignore that fact.
"Goodnight," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You wouldn't glorify him with a response.
Your husband lay down beside you.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.
Your heart raced. "No," you said, your voice barely steady. "There's nothing."
You swallowed hard, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you.
He's too late, you thought to yourself. .
8:38 PM [New Message]
[Play]
[Automated: Playing Voicemail from 'Makima']
"Hello. I'm sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn't disturb you. I wanted to speak with you at your earliest convenience. I have some concerns about one of my new recruits, and I'm uncertain that he will function well in his group. Would it be possible to request you for backup? You did such great work last time, and I know you won't fail me. A little help would be greatly appreciated, at least until we recover from the tremendous losses we just suffered. Thank you, again, for all that you do. Please call me back and let me know if you're available this week. Again, all expenses will be paid. Goodbye."
[Automated: You have no new messages.] .
The work week dragged on, each day blurring into the next. Every task felt like a mountain to climb, your thoughts repeatedly drifting back to Tokyo and the emotional whirlwind you'd left behind.
A few days later, as you stood in the kitchen, the aroma of cooking filling the room, you decided it was time to share your news. Your husband walked in, his mood noticeably sour.
"I've got news," you said, trying to sound casual as you stirred the pot on the stove. "I'm being reassigned to Tokyo again."
His eyes narrowed immediately. "Tokyo? Again? What is this, some kind of joke?"
"It's not a joke," you said, turning to face him. "It's a new assignment from Makima."
"Makima's orders?" he echoed, his voice rising in frustration. "So you're just going to pack up and leave again? How many times do I have to watch you walk out that door?"
"It's not like that," you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. "This is a work assignment. It's out of my control."
"Out of your control?" he snapped. "Its your job. You can say no."
"I didn't want to," You said. "I would be getting paid almost double. What did you want me to do?"
"Quit, like I've been telling you to do for the past few years," He replied. "When are you going to let me take care of you? I could make you a stay at home wife. You don't need this job."
You. A housewife. You, being trapped inside of the house all day – all of your ambitions and dreams and achievements being reduced to your status as a homemaker. That wasn't your life. It wasn't what you wanted for yourself.
Why wouldn't he take the hint?
"I'm not gonna quit. I want to work," you said, feeling a pang of defensiveness. "I need to go to Tokyo for said work. To get paid more. It's not about escaping you."
"You don't even see how you're doing exactly that. Run off, then. Go back to Tokyo."
"It's not like that," you said, trying to explain. "Life's been overwhelming. I'm not trying to run off, I just–"
"Overwhelming?" he scoffed. "You were full of energy over there. You had time for everyone else but none left for me."
Dick.
"It wasn't like that!" you said, your frustration bubbling over. "I was catching up with friends. It was a chance to get away from all of this. You cant– I won't let you criticize me for having a life outside of this marriage."
"Is that what you call it?" he snapped. "A life outside of our marriage? While I'm stuck here, waiting for my wife to come home, barely even recognizing her when she does?"
"That's not fair," you said, tears welling up. "I care about you. But it's been hard for me, too. I've been dealing with a lot."
"Dealing with a lot?" he repeated, his face reddening. "Do you even realize how distant you've become? We barely have sex anymore. We hardly talk. What kind of marriage is this?"
"I don't know," you admitted, feeling the sting of his words. "I'm tired. Maybe I would want to fuck you if you... I dunno... maybe, helped me out once in a while. You never even lift a finger around here. I'm working just as hard as you, and yet you are the one who gets to come home to a home-cooked meal."
"This wouldn't be an issue if you just quit," he shot back, taking a step closer. "But you're too busy being an independent woman, right? I own this house. It's in my name."
"I pay half of the bills," You added.
"But it's my house," He corrected you. "On paper, it belongs to me. Don't get out of line."
"Do you even hear yourself right now?" you said, your voice breaking. "I wish you would stop– fucking– pointing fingers at me for once and realize that there's a bigger issue here. We're struggling, and I don't– it's not my job to fix us."
"You can't fix shit. This is us," he said, his voice growing colder. "This is marriage. The difference between me and you is that I'm stuck dealing with this mess while you run off and live your life. How am I supposed to just accept that?"
"You don't have to accept it," you said, frustration rising. "But you need to understand that I'm not doing this to hurt you. I need to have a life of my own."
"A life of your own," he echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "It seems like you're more interested in escaping the life you have than in fixing what's broken between us."
"Stop it," you said, your anger flaring. You set your spoon down on the stove, turned the burner off, and turned to face the man you were supposed to love. "This conversation is over."
"I don't get it," he said, his eyes darkening. "Are you happier away from me? Are you saying that you're not interested in being here, in working on our relationship?"
"That's not what I'm saying," you said, lip quivering with anger. "But I can't just flip a switch and make everything perfect. I'm trying. You can't wall me up inside this house and expect me to be your bitch forever. I want to– I need to have a life."
"Be grateful for the life I gave you," he spat, his voice harsh and final, dripping with hatred and venom. It could not have been more apparent. Your husband hated you. "I'm the one who provides for you. I'm the reason you have a home and a life. Without me, you'd have nothing."
"Even with you, I have nothing," you laughed humorlessly. "There's nothing here. Nothing between us. I'm starting to believe I shouldn't have married you to begin with. Lord knows we were fine before, but you just had to settle down in the countryside."
You froze. The coldness of your own words cut through the air like ice. Before you could take it back, apologize, even, his hand lashed out, striking you across the face. The shock of the blow left you reeling, your cheek stinging with pain.
He spoke slowly, like he was sounding it out. His eyes wide, he apologized– "Honey, wait, I–"
"Fuck you," you whispered, the tears falling freely now.
You turned on your heel and fled to your room, your heart pounding.
Inside, you slammed the door and leaned against it, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The pain in your cheek was sharp, but you forced yourself to focus on something else.
You began unpacking your suitcase, using the physical task to distract yourself from the emotional turmoil.
You tugged the zipper open, revealing neat piles of folded clothes. You began to pull them out, laying at the foot of your bed. As you reached the bottom of the suitcase, you uncovered the painting Aki had gifted you, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap.
You unwrapped it slowly, revealing the vibrant colors and delicate brushstrokes. The painting was a tangible piece of Tokyo, a reminder of a time when you had felt truly alive – the flowers in the field. The strong tree. The blue sky, and the warm, warm sun.
It had no place in your home.
Your room felt cold and impersonal, a stark contrast to the warmth of the painting. You knew it didn't belong here, in this bedroom that felt more like a prison than a home – with gray walls and gray floors. But as you looked at the painting, a deep longing settled in your chest.
You glanced around the room, your eyes landing on a framed photo of you and your husband. It was one that had been taken at your wedding reception. He was grinning ear to ear, holding you close to his side. You were smiling, too, face smeared with cake – hopeful for your future with the man you loved.
Without hesitation, you took it down and replaced it with the painting. As you hung it up, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your chest, a flicker of happiness amid the darkness.
Standing back, you admired the painting. For a brief moment, the pain and anger seemed to melt away, replaced by the comforting memory of Aki. Oddly enough, staring at the painting long enough, you felt as if you could almost feel his presence, smell his warm cologne whipped together with the scent of the nicotine that lingered on his uniform. You felt as if you could practically feel him behind you, hands resting on your waist, soft lips pressing tender kisses to the valley of your neck.
And, only then did you really grasp the gravity of your situation. You were fucked. Completely and totally fucked.
Aki's text from the train sat heavy and unanswered still in your pocket. A week had passed, and you hadn't dared to text him back.
You didn't need to open it to know what it said. You had stared at it for so long that the image was practically ingrained into your memory.
I hope I get to see you again soon.
Get home safe.
You shouldn't. You knew you shouldn't. But you could feel the weight of your phone in your pocket, the weight of your desire rearing its ugly head during a moment of weakness, and you couldn't help yourself. Before you could stop and think twice about it, you were flipping your phone open and browsing your contact book, pressing 'ok' on a name you most definitely should have deleted by now.
The phone rang once. Twice. A third time.
Then it clicked.
"Hello?"
"Hey," You exhaled, relieved that your call had gone through. You crossed your legs, plopping down onto the bed.
"Hey, troublemaker."
The wave of heat that washed over you at the sound of his voice was uncanny. He filled you with a fantastic sort of giddiness that you hadn't felt in years – you didn't even care that your husband was about to eat dinner in the next room, just as he didn't seem to care that you had been M.I.A. for the past week.
In his typical fashion, he made you forget about your surroundings. Right then, it was just you and him, and that's all that mattered.
"Did you miss me?" Aki asked.
"Only a little," You replied. You couldn't help but smile. "What are you up to right now? Do you have time to talk?"
"Of course. I always have time for you," He answered warmly. His voice was deep and tender, and it made you melt all over the bed. "I'm laying in bed right now. Just had a smoke. How did you know I was thinking about you?"
There were so many things you wanted to say to him – I miss you, come get me, he hit me. I need you – and yet you couldn't help but bask in the comforting silence.
"Lucky guess," you said, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. "I've been thinking about you too. What's it like there? Anything exciting?"
"It's Tokyo," he said with a lazy lilt to his voice. He sounded tired, as he always did. It was endearing. "Could be better, but honestly, I'd trade it all just to be with you right now."
You felt a shiver of excitement at his words. The warmth of his voice and the lightness of the conversation made you forget, if only for a moment, the coldness of your current reality.
You knew it was bad. Still, you grinned, rolling onto your stomach while you took the call, kicking your feet.
"So, what's the weather like there?" You asked, trying to keep the tone light but unable to mask the undercurrent of flirtation.
You would say anything if it meant you would get to hear his voice a little longer.
"Warm, surprisingly," Aki replied, his voice dropping to a softer, more intimate tone."Have you been holding up okay over there? You haven't spoken to me in a week."
"Probably for the better," you said, a laugh escaping you. "Even now, I shouldn't be talking to you. I'm sitting here in this freezing room, and your words are the only thing warming me up."
"Good," he said, his tone suggestive. "Maybe one day soon I can warm you up in person. Until then, just know I'm thinking about you."
You rested your head on the bed, the phone pressed to your ear, feeling as if you were floating in the warmth of his words. Despite the rational part of your mind telling you to be cautious, you found yourself lost in the conversation, savoring every last moment you could.
"Are you still there?" Aki's voice came through, warm and inviting, like a soft blanket in the coolness of your room.
"Yeah," you replied, settling into the bed, propping yourself up with pillows. "I'm still here. Just... don't want to hang up."
"Glad to hear it," he said, his tone teasing. "I'm not ready to let go of you either. What are you thinking about?"
You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Just thinking about how nice it is to hear your voice. It's been such a rough day, and talking to you made me feel a little better."
"Wanna talk about it?" Aki asked softly. "I've been thinking about you like crazy."
"Really?" you asked. "What do you see when you think of me?"
Aki chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down your spine. "I see me and you – in that little black dress of yours – and the way your kisses tasted."
You felt a flush of warmth at his words, the intensity of your feelings bubbling up. "You probably shouldn't," you admitted. "You'll catch feelings."
"You're making it hard to stay focused on anything but you," Aki said, his voice growing more serious.
You laughed softly. "You're good at this, you know. Making me feel like I'm the only person in the world."
"That's because you are," he said earnestly. "For me, anyway. Wanna talk about your day?"
You shifted in bed, pulling the blankets around you as if trying to draw closer to him through the phone. "I don't really feel like talking about it."
Aki's voice was tender and soothing. "That's fine. Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?"
"I don't know," You sighed, the sound a mix of contentment and longing. You felt weak. "I just want to hear your voice. I need you."
"I need you too," he said, his voice softening. "I had a dream about you, you know? It felt like I was back in that hotel room with you again, watching you get ready to go home," A pause, then he added, "I should've made you miss that train."
You closed your eyes, letting the image of a shirtless Aki slipping into his work slacks flood your memory. "You're terrible."
He's one fine piece of ass.
Aki's laugh was deep and gentle, like the tides of the ocean tugging at the shore. "I am. I'm a terrible, rotten man, and it's all your fault. Have you been thinking about me, too?"
You glanced at the painting on the wall, feeling a pang of an emotion you couldn't quite place, "More than I'd like to admit."
"Hold on, I just heard something break in the kitchen. I think my nightmare roommate is up," Aki said. "I have to hang up. Promise you'll text and call more often, though. I've been worried sick."
"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your face flushed like you were a lovestruck schoolgirl. "Goodnight, Aki."
"Goodnight, troublemaker," he replied softly. "I'll be dreaming of you."
a/n: oh nooooooo... what do yall think is gonna happen? (i know, but yk....). but actually i hope you loved it, I loved writing sexy phone aki ugh it makes me wanna write more of him. I hope you all dont hate me too much for keeping them apart. (i'll make it up to u soon, trust.) anyway, QOTD: wyd if you were y/n? x
credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.
also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!
taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505
wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index
#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚#shameless!#aki hayakawa#aki x reader#aki hayakawa x reader#hayakawa aki x reader#csm x reader#chainsaw man x reader
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