#im pretty pleased with how it turned out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alannah-corvaine · 1 month

Note

19) angry sex in the middle of a fight

"Jacke, we've been over this—"

"An' we'll go over it again!"

Brina heaves a sigh of annoyance, her expression pinched with frustration. This is the same argument they've been having their whole lives and it's so tired. She'd really been hoping that her years away from home would have somehow mellowed Jacke's overprotectiveness, but it seems not.

"You think I can't take care of myself."

Jacke rolls his eyes and huffs. "That's not what I said n'you know it."

"But that's what you implied."

She inspects her nails coolly, watching out of the corner of her eye as the rogue's face turns ruddy and he attempts to walk back what he thinks he didn't say. Brina loves Jacke, she really does, and has since she was eight years old. But sometimes he can be thicker than a brick and doesn't think when he speaks.

And today it's pissing her off.

"I never—"

"Come here."

Green eyes blink at her, confused.

There is no warning or attempt to explain herself as she rapidly steps into his personal space, upending his entire body with a quick sweep of her leg. In the blink of an eye, Jacke is flat on his back on the floor, still too caught up in surprise to mount a defense. In the next breath, she pins him down with her body and presses the edge of a dagger to his throat.

A single raised eyebrow tells her that her point has been made, but Jacke's never been the sort to let things go easily.

So it's not unexpected when he deftly rolls them over, reversing their positions. Hands pinned, Brina twists beneath him and kicks his shin hard, enough for him to hiss in pain and momentarily loosen his grip on her. She follows it up with a knee to his abdomen, close enough to his kidney to hurt, but not do any real damage.

"Swivin' hells, Brina—"

She doesn't relent.

They continue to grapple for the next several minutes, neither able to hold a definitive advantage for long. Jacke might be stronger, but Brina is more flexible, especially after years spent training as a dancer, and she manages to evade his attempts to pin her to the floor again.

Their mingled heavy breathing is loud in the empty afternoon silence as they finally still. The sun filters in through the open window, dust motes dancing in the light that bathes them in its warmth.

Brina sits straddling Jacke's lap, dagger pointed lazily at his chin. "Had enough?"

He attempts to sit up and grimaces. "Ye gonna keep paintin' me with bruises if I say no?"

"Maybe," she says lightly.

Brina has no real intention of hurting him, she just wants him to acknowledge that she's capable of it. She knows that he knows she is. That's why this whole stupid fight is ridiculous and a waste of breath. But Jacke is obstinate in the same way that a brick wall is immovable. And sometimes you have to wail on it a bit before it sees reason and crumbles down.

"Fine," he grumbles, going limp and letting his head fall back to the floor.

His chest rises and falls with his rhythmic breathing, and Brina finds herself mesmerized. A sudden awareness of where she is strikes her as she sits astride him, and warmth suffuses her whole body.

It's not like she's never seen that v-shaped sliver of his skin before, given his persistant lack of interest in buttoning his shirt, but now it's fascinating to her in a way that she's never allowed herself to think about.

Keeping her face neutral, she flicks the tip of her knife under one of the few buttons holding his shirt together, severing the thread tying it to the fabric.

Jacke frowns up at her. "What'n was that for? Haven't ye ruined my duds enough?"

Brina merely hums in response, only half listening. She has an impish desire to do it again, so she does. A second button goes flying and Jacke squawks in indignation.

He grips her thighs as a reflex and tries to pull himself up into a sitting position, but something in her expression stops him dead.

The world seems to slow down, the air between them becoming heavy. She doesn't know what he sees in her face, doesn't even know how she's feeling, really. Only that something has shifted, each movement between them now somehow significant.

Suddenly her mouth feels as dry as the Sagolii desert, and the act of her tongue darting out to wet her lips feels charged with unintended implication. And for once, Jacke doesn't seem to miss it.

"Bri-?"

He says her name slow and unsure, like he can feel the thick and nameless energy between them, like he doesn't know what to make of it. His fingers flex against her thighs, exerting the tiniest pressure, and blood roars in her ears.

She doesn't hear her own gasp, has no memory of jerking her hips in response to his featherlight touch; every cell in her body is immediately fixated on that sensation, raucously calling for more.

Desire like wildfire races through her veins, striking her like lightning, stealing her breath and leaving her trembling. Jacke is rigid beneath her, his grip like iron, bright eyes flickering from her face to her hips. There is something like fear in his gaze, and Brina struggles to make sense of it.

Through an unfamiliar haze of lust, she realizes that she's seated directly on top of his manhood, twitching and hardening between her thighs. A flood of thoughts she's previously forbidden herself to have come crashing into her consciousness, though she cannot for the life of her at this moment recall why she should have pushed them away.

It's so hard to think when she is made of want.

And then Jacke is gently pushing her off of him, his face a mask of guilt and regret. "Sorry, Bri, I shouldn' have—"

The loss of him beneath her hits Brina like a punch to the gut. She fixes Jacke with a piercing stare as he moves away, a thousand thoughts and feelings warring inside her head.

"Sorry for what?"

Her tone is short and clipped, she can't help it. She'd just discovered something wonderful and now he's taking it away and for what? For some emotion she can't read in his eyes? For a fight that doesn't even matter? She pulls herself to her feet, legs wobbly and unsteady, a fire burning fierce in her gaze.

Jacke scratches the back of his head and looks anywhere but at her, which only serves to heighten her aggravation. "Should'na underestimated ya, should'na started this banter again..."

"That's a load of horseshite, Jacke."

Her voice is louder than it's been in years. She hasn't yelled at him since they were kids, and Brina almost feels bad about it, but he's being evasive and it rankles more than it usually does. She doesn't even know why, except that this feels like a moment that they've been dancing around for a long time, and she's tired of running from it.

So she gets up in his face, refuses to let him avoid her. Her mother would be absolutely appalled at her unladylike confrontational behavior, but then she'd also have a fainting fit over her sitting on the lap of her best friend like a strumpet, so she lets the opinions of a dead woman lie.

"Shouldn't have what, Jacke? What exactly is it that you think you should be sorry for."

Her eyes narrow as his lips press into a thin line, holding their silence. He still won't look at her, so Brina takes his face between her hands and compels him. "Jacke, talk to me."

They stay like that, silent for what feels like a long time. Jacke shifts uncomfortably, but doesn't look away. He seems to be considering any number of things as he looks at her, his expression somber and almost sad. When he finally does speak, his voice is small and quiet.

"...m'sorry for takin' advantage of ye."

Brina blinks, not expecting that answer at all. She takes a minute to compose her thoughts.

"I thought," she says slowly, "that after we talked about everything that happened, that you understood. I love you. More than anything, more than everything. I promise you, you could never take advantage of me, because it's given freely."

His brow furrows as his eyes search hers. "I don't want to lose ye 'cause I were an addle pate."

There's an unspoken pain in his voice, a piece of debris from the years she was gone, and oh how it breaks her heart to hear it. Gently, she pulls his head down to rest his forehead against her own.

"You already did," she whispers, "but I came back, and I always will, because you're my home."

She kisses him then and thinks of Eulmore, of the loneliest months of her life spent staring out at an empty sea. She recalls the long years of silence, her words buried beneath the earth with her family. Her life is a mosaic of regrets.

Never never never again will she waste the time given to her.

Jacke doesn't push her away this time when she tugs at his shirt, the remaining buttons giving way to her grasping fingers with nary a fight. Brina doesn't stop to look at the skin she's unveiled; she could map out his scars in the dark.

He seems to sense her inspired urgency, mouth slanting hot against hers as he pulls her close. His fingers are a brand against her hip, sliding beneath the linen fabric of her shirt. A hum of approval escapes her.

She should be nervous, she supposes, as the clothes disappear from her body. Jacke's lips are at her neck and moving south as one hand tugs her blonde hair loose from its long ponytail, the other pressed against the small of her back.

But there's no room in her head for doubt, only wonder.

It's always been Jacke, she knows. Ever since the day they met at her father's warehouse, sharing secrets before names, and every day since. And there will only ever be Jacke until she draws her last breath.

She doesn't have to wonder if he loves her back or finds her beautiful; she feels it in his every touch.

And when her hands find the drawstring of his pants and slip inside to grasp him, she hears it in the groan that escapes his lips and the curses that he murmers low in her ear as she squeezes and strokes him slowly.

He softly pants her name like a prayer as she sinks to her knees, pressing kisses to his shuddering thighs. Her mouth on him is an apology, a love letter to all the time that they've lost.

He doesn't let her finish him, however, not when he still has his own amends to make.

His fingers find her hot wet heat, followed shortly by his tongue, and she sees stars as he performs his penance. His name is a litany from her lips, falling like rain over a parched desert.

She cums so hard she cries, unaware of her tears until he's wiping them away and whispering sweet nothings that are everything. The adoration in his voice is enough to heal every wound she's ever had.

Pulling him close, til they are skin to skin with nothing between them, Brina kisses him softly. In her thoughts she offers thanks to every divine that had a hand in bringing her back to him. A content sigh leaves her as she twines her legs around his hips.

Jacke's breath hitches. For just a moment, he hesitates. "...yer sure?"

"You're the only thing I've ever been sure of," she tells him, a smile hiding at the corners of her mouth.

It's all the reassurance he needs, pushing into her with a reverence that feels religious. The momentary discomfort is nothing to her; the movement of his hips sends her spiraling, lost in sensations she's never dreamed existed.

She had thought, all her life, that they were close. That the ties of their friendship had anchored to the deepest parts of her soul and it was enough. She didn't know—how could she?—that it could be like this. He is everywhere—above her, inside her, sharing her heartbeats.

Her given name escapes his lips in an exhale as he sinks into her once more, and she threads her fingers through his hair and considers that this is the first time in her life that she hasn't minded how it sounds.

"Call me that again," she sighs, back arching and hips rising to meet the angle of his thrusts.

"Rebecca," he groans, too far gone to tease her.

The sound of her name sets her off like a powderkeg; she shudders and whines beneath him, gasping for air, trying to hold on to the powerful ripples of pleasure that reverberate through her body in shockwaves. All too soon, they slip through her fingers, leaving her feeling boneless and sated.

Above her, Jacke rides out his own release, and the primal noises he makes as he buries his face in her neck have her ready to ravish him once more before they've even recovered.

For a long while they lay in a gasping, sweaty heap, too lost in the moment to ruin it with words.

Eventually, Jacke rolls off of her, and Brina discreetly stretches parts of her that had started going numb.

"That was—" she starts.

"Why in hells did we wait so long t'do that for??"

Jacke looks so affronted that she can't help but laugh, which only makes him frown harder. "Think that's funny, do ye?"

"Mhmm," she hums, eyes twinkling with mirth. With a grunt, she pulls herself into a sitting position, intent on fixing her messy hair, when Jacke reaches over and pulls her back on top of him.

"Hey!" she splutters, limbs akimbo as she attempts to right herself.

"I think," he declares as he kisses her shoulder, "that we've got lots o'time to make up fer. And right now's as good a time as any t'start."

Brina closes her eyes and smiles, leaning into his touch. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," he echoes, pulling her down to him.

"If you," she murmurs between heated kisses, "say so."

After that, there is no more talk, only the silent language that lovers speak, long into the night.

#posts this before i can look at it again and change my mind #so we went a little bit off prompt but im mostly pretty pleased with how this turned out #they're one of my longest running ships and they deserve a good write up #my apologies for butchering jacke every time i have to write his dialogue #keeper's captain #drabbles #my writing

18 notes · View notes

kulemiwrites · 5 months

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐓. 𝟸| 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

Part: ii of iii

Genre: Romance, Eventual Smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5.2k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

You can find Part 1 HERE. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

You make up your mind on what to do about Nishikiyama's after hours invitation.

You knew what your answer was long before you stripped out of your clothes and stepped into the locker room’s lukewarm shower. You convinced yourself that you “just needed to think it over more” as the suds slid down your body and then the drain. You pretended that you weren’t really sure about it as you dried, then lathered yourself up in smell-good cream. By the time you pulled your jacket over your shoulders to cover the thin straps of your comfy dress and gave yourself one final touch up in the full body mirror before heading out of the back door, it was practically a done deal.

Rushing to the curb of Senryo Avenue, you dug into your bulky crossbody for the business card and the folded yen notes that he squeezed into your hand with a pat and a wink just before parting ways.

“Your cab fare for the night.” he told you, pink lips gently curved up upward. “Either to get home from work or to go have a couple of drinks on me.”

The taxi’s door opened and you hurried to it, having a one-sided race with the couple rushing hand in hand down the sidewalk. You lowered yourself inside, forgetting to duck and banged your head.

“Ah,” the driver sucked air through his teeth, “Please do be careful, Miss.”

“R-right,.” you sighed, grimacing as you rubbed at your head. You wondered if you would wind up at the bar talking to Nishikiyama with a giant, cartoonish knot at the center of your forehead. Was that head thump your sign to turn tail and head straight home? After all, if he’d seen you like that, you might’ve just lost your highest paying customer! Right?

Right?

“Where are we headed this evening?”

Without even a second’s hesitation, your arm extended toward the driver so that you could hand him the business card.

Dammit. Betrayed by your own reflexes.

“This address, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course.”

The driver passed the card back to you shortly and you began tracing its thick edges with your thumbs. Originally, you looked out of the window to admire the beautiful grit of the scenery but eventually your mind had begun to wander.

Just what were you doing going out to meet a customer? This one, especially. You’d usually decline offers to meet after hours. Sure, he had been nice enough but if anyone happened to see the two of you out together, the treatment you were receiving at work was sure to get worse. Just the thought was enough to make your stomach flip with anxiety.

That was, until you thought about the feeling of his big, warm hand above yours when he’d given you cab fare tonight and how could you forget his smile? That damned smile.

You weren’t kookoo over him like the others were. No, but not even you could deny how attractive the man was… Not enough to make you lose sight of yourself or anything. Of course not but well, you did have eyes.

That thought reminded you of your state of dress. You had only packed an outfit that was comfortable enough to wear on your commute back home, certainly nothing to wear on a night out on the town, especially not next to him. When he was at the club, he’d been wearing a maroon suit with a patterned black and gold shirt and a silver pendant. He was gorgeous. You supposed he usually was. You’ve seen the way the girls you worked with go out after work when they went bar hopping. You could understand why he’d have been drawn to any one of them– they fit, tonight you were just…

It wasn’t as if this was a date or anything but you thought that any reasonable person would be concerned about how they’d be perceived. You worried you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you got too close.

“Miss? Miss?” the driver said firmly, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh?”

“It would seem that we have arrived.” he chuckled out awkwardly.

“Oh,” you nodded, unfolding then counting the notes. “So we have. Thank you so much, sir.”

“No problem at all.”

You handed him the cash and hurriedly exited the cab, this time being mindful of your head. Fighting with the strap of your bag, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes. The bar was on this side of town? You read the Ginza address on the card and you weren’t even sure what you expected but you knew you didn’t picture him inviting you here!

People passed your stiff daze dressed in vibrant, stunning clothes, many of them holding large, luxury brand shopping bags at their sides as they chatted amongst themselves. They must have been at this for hours. You were right, you weren’t at all dressed for the occasion if these strangers were anything to go by.

The sidewalk was clean, garbage cans beneath every tall zelkova tree wrapped in lights that lined the curb. The buildings were neat brick and stone and glass almost completely bare of gaudy posters advertising seedy back alley shops, just tidy little sandwich boards here and there. Even the barkers were different, meeker.

It was like a different world compared to the ever classy Kamurocho.

You read the column of business signs on the midrise building before you until you spotted the name that matched the one on the business card. According to the sign, the bar was situated somewhere on the first floor. You nodded to yourself and slid the card back inside of your purse then started toward the building.

The closer you got to the frosted door though, you felt a heaviness in your legs and when your fingers wrapped around that gilded handle, you couldn’t even bring yourself to pull. Your arm instead went limp and suddenly the hustle and bustle of the city behind you was drowned out by the beat of your heart thumping in your ears. You felt the muscles in your face contort, those in your forehead working the hardest with deep brow furrows.

Oh?

You were nervous.

But how could you be nervous?

“It’s only Nishikiyama-san,” you mumbled to yourself. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It was your job to drink with him. You didn’t want to be arrogant but one must remind themselves that the man paid for your time. It might have been after hours but this was no different than what you’d done mere hours ago. It was just a couple of drinks! How bad could it be?

You’d drink. Chat. Go home.

Was there really any reason to be noodle-armed and lead-legged outside in the cold? Worst case scenario, he’d invited you there to see if he could convince you to work at a club he’s got dealings with or something. He’d never given you the poacher-vibe before but you couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t uncommon for his type to pull stunts like that with hostesses.

You’d drink. Say no. Go home.

Releasing one, long stuttering breath, you straightened your posture then found the strength to pull the weighty door. You navigated your way through the ornate ground level of the building until you could find a directory to point you in the direction of the bar. You had the option of stairs or an elevator but you opted for the stairs simply to prolong the amount of time it took to get you there.

At the top of the stairs, you spotted the bar in the middle of the corridor thanks to the sign that hung above it. Hitonomi written elegantly in black kanji through the stem of a gold-lit martini glass.

You could feel the lead legs returning but you persisted until you reached the manual sliding door. Affording yourself one more deep breath, you slid the door quietly and slipped inside.

Funky jazz tunes greeted you, easing you into the mellow atmosphere. Two tall, vivid money trees framed the white frosted door and on the wall just ahead of you was an oversized painting of a silhouette of what could have been a woman looking down at something, but you couldn’t be sure. There was a metal abstract divider acting as a partition to separate the gap between the entrance and the main dining room. You continued along the deep red carpet, noting its subtle diamond pattern until you passed the divider.

You could see why someone like Nishikiyama would find this a nice place to unwind. At this location, it fit the bill for the luxurious outing that he seems to pride himself on being able to afford but it was still modest enough to fly under the radar– perhaps it didn’t exactly catch the attention of the types that went to places for the sake of being able to say that they’ve been… People like Nishikiyama himself.

It had a warmth about it that wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating. It was quite cozy in fact, perhaps even a bit more intimate than what you’d imagined on your way here, what with the tight seating and dim lighting.

The bar was just to the left of the entrance and you’d spotted him there in an instant.

Nishikiyama was dead center, smoking one of his usual Cabins as he stared up at the bartender with the same parted-lipped, amused expression he gave you when you were in the middle of an anecdote. Smoke was forced out of his nose as he blew a raspberry in what seemed like an attempt to stifle laughter. Then, he tossed back his head, hair flying back with him as he laughed heartily before pointing his smoking hand at the bartender and chuckling out something that you couldn’t make out with the distance.

His maroon coat had been hanging behind him on the royal blue bucket barstool and he’d had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. He brushed his hair back from his face, allowing more of his side profile.

He really was so–

“I don’t recall seeing you around here before.” the bartender’s gruff voice said, interrupting your thoughts and you’re grateful that he had.

Nishikiyama had been about to take a sip of whatever he’d been drinking as his delayed reaction turned his attention to you but once he spotted you, he lowered the glass and smiled. It seemed as if his eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them when he noticed you, much different from the look he often gave you at the club.

He rested his chin on his fist. “She’s with me.”

A flurry of microexpressions that you couldn’t quite read crossed the other man’s face, “Of course. Well, welcome, Miss…” he trailed off.

You and Nishikiyama answered him with your name in unison which for some reason made the man chuckle as he looked at the other before returning his attention to you.

“_____-san, then? What’ll you have this evening?”

Nishikiyama looked at you, his expression one of geniality as he placed a menu in your hand. “Whatever you want, okay? Don’t be shy. It’s my treat.”

You skimmed the menu.

You’d have hoped it was his treat! The prices at this place were nothing to sneeze at. You felt almost duped by the atmosphere– there was nothing inviting about the potential tab! If you didn’t regularly run his pockets you might have questioned if he could actually afford casually drinking at a place like this or if it was simply posturing to impress you.

But… Why would he want to do that anyway?

You ordered your usual drink of choice. Depending on how the night went, you might venture out and try one of the signature cocktails later.

“Of course. Just a moment.” the bartender said with a bow.

“C’mon, get comfy. Or do you see somewhere else you wanna sit?” Nishikiyama turned to face the fairly empty bar before shifting his attention to you, “Want some privacy?”

You were used to being out in the middle of a mostly packed room, in the light where everyone could see you. It wasn’t as if you were afraid of him or anything but somehow, sitting in one of those darker corners made you nervous beyond belief. It made you feel as though this would turn into something you weren’t prepared for it to be.

Privacy felt intimidating.

You shook your head. “I’ll just join you here at the bar.”

“Suit yourself.” he said as he slid himself off of the bar stool with a soft grunt.

“Left or right?”

“Huh?”

He stood in front of you as he gestured with his thumbs. “Which side do you want to sit on?”

Has he always been that tall? More importantly, he smelled good at the club but why did he seem to smell even better now? You shook the thoughts from your mind and frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know! You pick.”

He smiled as he pressed his palm to the top of your head and used it to gently maneuver you back slightly, “Then, I’ll sit you on my good side.” he said, then slid out the seat to the left of his.

The bartender sat your drink at your newly assigned seat then Nishikiyama waited until you sat down so that he could push you in before returning to his own.

Cheers!

“So, you think the left is your good side?” you asked, lightly swirling your drink in its glass. “I’d have thought someone like you would believe all your sides are good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or calling me a cocky dick.” he chuckled, finally taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m just saying that, having sat on both sides of you, I don't think you have a bad side.”

He folded his arms on the bar then stuck his neck out to you so that only you could hear what he was saying, “Listen, _____, I know you’ve heard a lot of stuff about me but let’s get one thing clear: I am not easy. Alright?”

You could feel horror twist your face. Did he really? Was he? Did?

“What?”

“Butter me up all you want, but you’re not getting into my pants.”

Your entire body had begun to heat up from bottom to top. You could feel it radiating off your ears even. “I never– I don’t want to get into your pants!” you nearly shouted, drawing the attention of the bartender, who did an awful impression of a guy who hadn’t heard anything when he clearly did.

“That so?” Nishikiyama wiggled his eyebrows and smiled, “Say it louder so the people in the bar across the way can hear it too.”

The realization crashed down on you like a tsunami, you’d already begun to sweat. “Oh, you were joking.”

He scoffed as he placed his cigarette back in his mouth, “Of course I was joking. Don’t make it so easy for me to tease you. I won't let up so quickly next time.”

You let out a heavy breath. “You scared me! I really thought you thought I was coming onto you or something.”

He stared at the bar then mumbled, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

He didn’t look directly at you when he said it so you couldn’t read his expression, nor could you decode his tone but you assumed it must have been another one of his jokes. He had told you not to make it so easy. So, you decided to not take it seriously. Instead, you brought your hand to your mouth and laughed a bit as you swung your foot at his under the bar.

“What are you saying, Nishikiyama-san?”

He blew a breath out of his nose and there was a tiny curl to his lips before he tossed back the last of his liquor.

“Hey man, I think I’m good on these.” he spoke abruptly to the bartender. “It’s definitely a good cocktail.”

The other man wiped his hand on a towel before taking his empty glass. “But is it good enough for the menu?”

“I’d say it is.” he said. “Maybe make it a little stronger though and add a dry vermouth or something?”

“Ah… vermouth. Okay, just one more. Last one, then I’ll give you your bottle..” the bartender said, rubbing his hands together.

Nishikiyama groaned, laying his forehead onto his forearms. “You said that last time!”

“Quit your whining! It’s free booze!”

“Who cares if it’s free! Let me drink what I came for, dammit.” He turned to you with a slightly pouty expression, you’d never seen him look like this before but it sort of stunned you that he could make such cute faces. “The guy forces me to be his taste test dummy every time I stop by and he holds my keep bottle hostage.”

“You have a keep bottle?” you asked.

“Of course I do.” he said. “You’d never know it with the way this guy acts though.”

You laughed. “You’re really giving him a hard time.”

“Ahh, he’ll be fine.” he said, plucking away his cigarette ashes. “We’re usually worse than this but….”

“Oh?” you sipped your drink. “Well, don’t let me stop you from having fun.”

“Who said you were stopping anything? The night is young.” he asked, leaning back onto his chair as he traced his lip with his propped hand. “If anything, I’d say the same to you. Loosen up a little. I thought getting you out of that damn club would help you relax but if anything, you seem more tense.”

“I do?”

“Work’s been stressing you out these days, hasn’t it?” he asked, giving the bartender an acknowledging nod when he heard him place a new glass beside him.

His chocolate eyes scanned your face as if he’d been searching for something before finally settling on yours. As lovely as the rest of him was, there was something about the way he looked at you that always made you feel a tad uneasy. It wasn’t as if you disliked it, on the contrary, you just found it difficult to maintain eye contact for very long. If there was one thing you could say about Akira Nishikiyama, when you had his undivided attention, he made it known.

Anyone would feel as if they’re under threat of melting and losing their composure. Right?

Right?

Your brows tightened at the thought, and the feeling, “Is it really that obvious?”

He brushed his knuckles gently against the sleeve of your jacket and feigned offense, “C’mon! I know you try your best to play it up and all, but no matter how good you are at your job, there’s bound to be someone there that’s paying enough attention to spot the cracks.”

“And that someone is you?”

“Of course!” He smiled a big, goofy grin before taking a sip of his drink and nodding at the bartender. “This one’s the winner.”

“You’re not just saying that?” he asked, hopefulness in his voice.

Nishikiyama scoffed, “Since when was I the type to spare your feelings?”

“Dammit, you’re right.” The man’s face lit up as he whipped out his notepad and walked through the door behind the bar.

You traced your finger around the rim of your glass absentmindedly until you heard him snap his fingers at you. “Back to me, princess.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve gotta know though,” he asked. “What’s got the best hostess in town bogged down?”

Taking in a long, sharp breath, you thought about what could have possibly given him any indication that something may have been wrong with you. Had you not been doing your job properly?

“What makes you think anything has me ‘bogged down’?” you asked.

“Plenty of things.”

“Like?”

“When certain girls sit in our section, you seem like you tone yourself down– like you’re trying not to upstage them or something.”

He was right. “That’s silly.”

“You’re tense as hell when you’re next to me but you’re limp as a noodle next to any other man in my party.” he said, studying your face then his lips curled into a smile. “Which means, either one: there’s something going on backstage where I’m concerned or, two: you’ve fallen for me.”

He was… partially correct. “Alright,” you laughed. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

Nishikiyama’s smile melted into something more serious as he placed his hand on the back of your chair and turned you so that you had no choice but to face him.

“But, I think the thing that bothered me the most– what made me invite you out tonight so that I could get to the bottom of it, is that your eyes aren’t shining the same.”

He was so close to you as he looked into your eyes as if he was checking one final time to confirm his suspicions and while he did that, you lost yourself in him. You could see every pore, line and bit of stubble coming in. You should’ve been upset by this closeness, frustrated that he was in your bubble. Instead, you were fascinated that he’d been watching you so closely for who knows how long when all you’d thought you were to him was the girl that poured his drinks and talked to him while he was bored. You wondered if any other customers saw you like this or if this was all him. Before you could even finish that thought, you wondered if you even cared if other customers saw you like this. Part of you wanted it to be unique to him…

“Huh…” he huffed, then flashed those pearly whites. “Cat got your tongue?”

You blinked out of your daze and shook your head, “Sorry, I’m just a little surprised you pay that much attention to your hostesses.”

“I don’t.” he said, finally settling back into his seat to take a drink of his cocktail. “I pay attention to you.”

What the hell? Your heart skipped a beat– None of your customers have ever made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t allow it. You kept each of your customers at an arm's length specifically so that they couldn’t get too close but even doing that couldn’t keep Nishikiyama from seeing through you.

And why would he even care to see through you?

“Me?” was all that you could really manage.

He nodded, “So, again, I ask... What’s the problem?”

You fixated on the candle on the wooden bartop as you contemplated what to say next.

You were conflicted. He’d pretty much hit the nail on the head. He was still your customer. So, you weren’t quite sure how wise it would be to open up. Sure, he noticed a couple of things but his impression of you and your club was what kept the lights on. He was no small spender. Losing his patronage could prove detrimental… But, it was perhaps for that reason that you considered if maybe honesty was indeed the best policy.

After all, he had noticed all those things even when you’d been trying your best to hide it. Maybe if it continued on like this, he would decide he’d rather go for someone else that could better keep it together. You winced when you felt the pang in your chest brought on by that thought.

While this entire situation brought on a bunch of undue, (unspoken) ire, you’d known in reality that it was misplaced. You were simply frustrated and though it was his fault. It wasn’t his fault. Deep down you wondered, if you’d lost him as a patron, wouldn’t you have actually been devastated?

Current events aside, the truth was, Nishikiyama was one of your favorite patrons– even after you closed your eyes and removed his bottomless wallet.

But you weren’t allowed to admit that– Policy and all.

“Hmm?” he hummed, tapping his pointer finger on the bar in your line of vision.

When you glanced at him, he tilted his concerned face at you. It was hard to conjure up a lie when he watched you like that. You wound your shoulders and silently prayed to whomever may be listening that opening your mouth wouldn’t backfire.

“So, uh, do you remember earlier…when I mentioned that there are rumors going around about you?” you asked, playing in the condensation on your glass.

He nodded, a ghost of a smirk kissing his lips.

“Well,” you sighed. “I’m… also, included in the mix.”

“How do you mean?”

You frowned, not sure if he was messing with you or if he genuinely needed you to spell it out for him but his face betrayed nothing.

“People are thinking that you and I have hooked up, Nishikiyama-san.” you said bluntly.

Nishikiyama was silent for a while, his eyes bouncing between yours before he inhaled sharply and then went for his drink. Still, his expression told you nothing.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with that. So, you stopped looking to him for indicators on whether what you were saying was okay or not and just kept talking hoping that maybe he’d stop you if he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I’ve denied it, of course.” you clarified, “I didn’t want people getting the wrong impression of you– or me, but… It doesn’t really seem to matter what I say because they all prefer sensationalism and getting good gossip out of it rather than the actual truth. At first, they were just whispering about it like, ‘Oh, do you think they–’ but then, the more you showed up and the more you requested me, they took that as their proof that we had. That’s when they started telling me about you. I guess thinking that it would upset me or get me to crack but, I don’t care what you do in your personal life.”

He seemed to have flinched a bit at your final sentence but still he didn’t say anything. Instead, he finished up the last of his cocktail.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Nishikiyama smiled a barely there smile at you then waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Go on. Let it out.”

“Oh, uh, just that…” you’d sort of forgotten what you’d said last.

He seemed to be able to tell.

“They tried to get you to crack…” he said, pushing his empty glass away from him then reclined back into the blue chair.

“Right, and I suppose that since I never came out with a story of my own to satisfy their lust for gossip, they started to assume I was lying. The cattiness has always been there– It’s a part of the culture but… Then, they just got mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, childish stuff too. Like, notes in my locker, writing stuff on my mirror between customers so I’d see it when I got back, hiding my clothes after shift showers. That sort of thing.”

Nishikiyama had gone from being totally unreadable to mildly upset to something resembling guilt.

“All of that over some fucking rumors that they started?”

You smiled sheepishly as you nudged him with your fist, “What can I say, you’re a popular guy.”

He shook his head while pinching the bridge of his nose and released a long shaky sigh. Nothing but the jazz from the speakers behind you filled the gap. He tilted his head back, running both his hands through his hair as he stared up at the pendant lights hanging from the ceiling.

He seemed stressed.

Should you not have told him?

“You know,” he began. “____, when I saw that you were worn out in the beginning, I’d hoped that it was a money issue. So, I started spending even more than I needed to, just to make sure you were covered. Even if I didn’t touch half the shit they brought to our table. I thought I was helping you… But to think that all this time, I’ve been the reason for your trouble all along–”

“You’re not.”

“I am, though. I am.” he said, his gaze went so deep you felt as if he was peering into your soul. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry about all of that. If I’d known that all of that was happening, I would’ve just stayed away from the damn club.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted that!” you said, reaching for his wrist. “I love it when you come around and I’m not just saying that… I’m off the clock, so.”

He chuckled, “And I lo– I enjoy your company, you know? But not at that cost.”

You sighed, it felt good getting it all off of your chest but it brought you no joy that he blamed himself for any of this. After all, he’d never cut your bra with scissors and left the pieces in a toilet for you to find later. His only crime was that he’d been too sought after for his own good– that and well, perhaps, whatever it is he truly does for a living but that’s a different conversation.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve been flirting with the idea of leaving and going to a new club.”

He hummed, placing a cigarette in his mouth. You grabbed his lighter from the bar and he leaned toward you so that you could light it for him.

“Alright,” he exhaled. “We’ll go to a new club, then.”

“We?” you laughed.

Nishikiyama beamed, “What? You didn’t think I was just going to lose out on a drinking buddy over this, did you?”

“What was all that about ‘staying away from the club’?”

“Yeah, that club!” he said. “If you go somewhere else, you’re starting out on a clean slate!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “And what happens when I start there and you show up and find that you’ve hooked up with 10 of those girls?”

“Oi, oi. Just who do you think I am anyway?” he said with a faux shocked expression.

“You’re going to get me bullied out of every hostess gig in Kamurocho at this rate, Nishikiyama-san.”

“You’re going a little insane with this hypothetical situation, ____.” he teased. “But, alright, fine. Then, what’s the alternative? Say I don’t come to the club anymore–”

“Why do you keep suggesting that?”

He held up his finger at you. “And I don’t follow you to whatever new club you end up at, are you saying that that’s it? I won’t be drinking with you anymore?”

He seemed to be so fixated on that.

“We’re drinking together right now, aren’t we?” you smiled. “We’re not bound to any dingy little club.”

The corners of his eyes lifted, and there was a very subtle scrunch just below the bridge of his nose as his pink lips curled. There was something so tender about his expression and you weren’t sure if it was the drink you’d nearly finished or if he’d worked some weird magic on you that made parts of you flutter.

“Then, I guess we shouldn’t let the night go to waste.” he said.

“The night is young.”

Part 3💛

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Thank you for reading!

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #another 5k words about how pretty nishiki is but the reader is too scared 2 look at the woman in the mirror and admit what she already know #PLEASE JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY I BEG #im sorry if reader is frustrating to anyone- she frustrated me too <3 we're in this together <3 <3 <3 *holding your hand and swingin*#it's gonna turn around I SWEAR!#confía en mí 🩷

24 notes · View notes