#sanzu haurchiyo

[just-sp-in-inginthevoid]

Sanzu: Did you hang out with Draken last night?

Mikey: You know.. Yeah, I did

Sanzu: Oh~ I love Draken!

Mikey: You hate Ken-chin

Sanzu: YEAH NO SHIT MIKEY

[ranhaitanisgf]

hi! could i request headcanons or oneshot (either is okay) for bonten timeline sanzu haruchiyo with an excitable, extroverted reader? thank you so much, and no worries if not! (+ also your theme still says rqs are closed, but i saw you posted them being open two hrs ago :3)

pay attention to me!!

synopsis: how would bonten haruchiyo act w/ an excited & extroverted s/o?

☆ a/n ˎˊ˗ idk if yall can tell but ive never written for mr haru lawl ... also !! i added a little mini oneshot cause i couldn't help myself :3 thank you so much for requesting !! this was so cute to write !! i hope everyone enjoysss xoxo

☆ characters ˎˊ˗ sanzu (akashi) haurchiyo x g/n!reader

☆ wc ˎˊ˗ 2.7k+

masterlist

❥ sanzu thinks you’re annoying at first. 

❥ he doesn’t notice at all when you first move into his apartment building; he doesn’t take much care in noticing small things like that if it didn’t relate to bonten. his work and mikey were the only important things to him, so when he hears excited squealing seeping through his walls one day, he thinks that his neighbor has a kid, (which quite frankly annoyed him, but he decided he didn’t care enough to do anything about it). 

❥ there was no estimated time as to when he would get home--ranging anywhere from 6pm to 4am--so it takes at least a month or two for him to meet you officially. coincidentally, he had been going out to grab a drink from the convenience store when you were excitedly jumping around outside your door, a delivery package in your hands. 

“oh! omg, are you sanzu-san?!” “...hah? who’re you?” “oh my gosh, i’ve been knocking on your door everyday for the past month, but you never seemed to be home! i never got to introduce myself to you! i’m (l/n) (y/n)! i moved in not that long ago, so i wanted to get to know my neighbors!”  “‘kay. bye.” 

❥ the only thing he wants to do is get away from you; he doesn’t want to be bothered with civilians, much less someone as annoying as you seemed to be. seriously, why were you talking so loud?!

❥ much to his displeasure, you followed him all the way to the convenience store, talking his ear off about the most meaningless things he’s ever heard of in his life, (how does somebody talking about nothing for so long?!) as he purchases his drinks and walks back to the apartment building. it takes everything in him not to snap at you; if he did, he would probably wake up all the neighbors from raising his voice, which wouldn’t be ideal since this was already his fifth apartment in the last six months. 

❥ he’s unsure how you possibly couldn’t get a hint that he didn’t want to be bothered, especially after he only said a maximum of ten words to you in the whole thirty minutes you were following him around, (are you really that clueless? is this what loneliness does to people?). it does take him by surprise that you aren’t scared of him though; you’d shown absolutely no sign of apprehension despite the scars around his mouth, which he supposes shows a bit of good character from you. not that he really cares. 

❥ he’s more than happy to shut the door on your face when he gets back to his apartment, finally indulging in the peace and quiet of his apartment, (he doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy to hear nothing). right when he’s opening his bottle of sake, he hears squealing through the walls. when you start monologuing about whatever you’d received in the mail, he just decides to quit and go to bed. 

❥ sanzu isn’t sure how, but you have somehow made it your routine to follow him places whenever you ran into him. he also isn’t sure why he continuously allows you to tag along with him, but as long as it doesn’t affect his work, he doesn’t really care. 

❥ you’re always talking about something; the weather, your coworker’s strange behavior the other day, or the stray cat you saw in the alleyway that ran away. there are times when he tunes out your talking and uses it as white noise, but you never seemed to get upset at the fact that he visibly is zoning out. 

❥ after a while, he gets used to your constant presence around him, so much so that he finds it strange to not hear your excited yammering while he’s at work, (although he supposes he wouldn’t want to have that constantly in his ear while he’s doing ‘business’ with someone). 

❥ the one thing that gets the attention of the rest of the bonten executives is when he suddenly stops going to the clubs, leaving whatever work he had there for during the day when it was barren. it was such a drastic change in behavior; sure, sanzu was never the type to be obsessed with the scantily dressed girls in the club, but he was known for taking some home every once in a while. at the very least, he was known for getting various types of substances from sketchy dealers who frequently attended. what’s even stranger to everyone is the fact that he slowly starts to engage in less substances, (though he still does every once in a while) which is what rings the alarm bells. 

“oi, sanzu.” “what do you want, ran? i’m fuckin’ busy.”  “well, it can wait. the fuck’s been up with you lately? you’ve been acting weird as shit.” “so?”  “so, what the hell’s been up with you?” “none of your goddamn business, that’s what.”  “woahh, easy there, man. seriously, somethin’ bothering you?”  “i said it’s nothing, so drop it.”

❥ by the time he realizes what he’s been doing, it’s too late for him. you and your talkative self have wiggled their way into his heart, setting up camp to stay for a while. he had a glimpse of a thought of it when ran was confronting him, but he immediately pushed it out of his mind because how could that possibly be true? 

❥ it can’t be true, even if he unwillingly likes to think about it now. he can’t let himself think about it; you were one of the most strange yet innocent and pure people he’s ever met, so how could he willingly taint you with someone like himself? no, he wouldn’t let it happen.

❥ and just like that, everything seems to be back to normal for him. he goes to the club even more than he did before, and the amount of substances he uses seems to increase exponentially by the week. he begins to sleep on the couch in his dingy office instead of going home so that he doesn’t run into you, only going home for the bare essentials every couple days, (and even then, he leaves after just a few minutes). 

❥ it’s just his luck that he gets out of his car the moment you turn the corner onto the apartment building’s block, seeing him in plain sight as he freezes for a moment. and then he unfreezes because 1.) why is he of all people scared to run into you? he’s a bonten executive, he’s killed people before, so why was his heart beating so fast right now? and 2.) he needs to get away from there. right now. 

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

“hey!! not so fast, haruchiyo!!” you shout, your steps hastening as you try to catch up with him. sanzu can hear your steps behind him, but his long legs give him the advantage as he quickly ducks into the apartment building, smashing the elevator button and tapping his foot as it decides to be as slow as it possibly can be. 

he lets out a ‘tsk!’ sound when he notices you enter the building, promptly looking away from you and looking cooly at the blinker indicating what level the elevator was on, (can this thing move faster?!). 

“stop ignoring me!! where have you been?!” you questioned, your voice a mix of worry and anger. “i’ve been knocking on your door everyday with no response!! i know you don’t particularly like me, but you’re the only person who doesn’t walk away from me, so could you at least give me a reason that you suddenly started avoiding me?!” 

“...’m not avoiding you.” sanzu doesn’t know what to do right now; he’s never seen you angry like this before. typically, he would care less about the feelings of some random person like you, but for some reason the hurt in your voice makes him unusually unsure of himself. 

you scoffed at his lame excuse, rolling your eyes. 

“look! you’re trying to avoid me right now with elevator! seriously, can you just tell me what i did? i won’t do it again, i swear! just stop avoiding me!” 

“fuck, it’s not you!” sanzu suddenly said, his voice strained. “i’m just busy, okay?! you’re better off being friends with someone else.” 

“but you’re already my friend!! why don’t you want to keep talking to me??” sanzu ignored your words, his gaze staring straight ahead at the doors of the elevator, his stare so intense that you could almost think he was trying to open it telepathically. “hey!! can you just answer the damn question already, haruchiyo?!” 

“why do you need to know so fuckin’ badly?! i just said i’m busy!!” 

“because! i like you!” you yelled, your eyes seeming to get a bit watery. “and i know you don’t like me and that’s fine but i just want to be able to talk to you and see you sometimes, but now you’re always gone and i don’t know when you’re going to come back and it scares me! i just-” 

sanzu cut off your words, promptly stepping in front of you and slipping his hand behind your head, slamming his lips into yours. he’s not even sure himself why he did something stupid like this, especially when the whole reason he was avoiding you was because of his own flaws, but he couldn’t help himself when he heard you being so cute and worried over him, (seriously, how was he supposed to resist something like that?). 

it obviously took you off guard at first, but sanzu made sure you quickly realized what was going on, his mouth desperately pressing against yours. his kiss was rough but passionate, his lips moving quickly against yours as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand sliding around you to rest on the small of your back, (he’s doing it purely out of instinct; he hasn’t really thought about how he had been avoiding you for this very reason). 

a small ding! from the elevator grabs your attention, making you push him off of you as someone comes out from the elevator, glancing at the two of you a bit suspiciously before walking out of the building, leaving both of you in silence. 

“uh…wanna go to the convenience store for snacks…?”

˗ˏˋ𖤐ˎˊ˗

❥ it took a little bit for sanzu to open up to you about anything even a little bit, but once he did, you were able to figure him out pretty quickly, especially when he’d finally decided to be truthful about his actual profession, (bro does not work an office 9-5). due to all of this, it’s easy to tell that sanzu has a lot of issues, but it wasn’t something that you weren’t willing to work through with him!

❥ the two of you are the definition of black cat and golden retriever! you are always excited about everything and are taking him to all the cool and trendy places on dates while he is more quiet, keeping close to your side and watching everything with a careful eye, (especially people he defines as creeps, i.e. people who look at you for more than 0.2 seconds). 

❥ date wise, he is usually following your lead. he doesn’t have the slightest clue about what you think it romantic, so it will usually be you planning outings for the two of you. a lot of times he will complain about being tired and not wanting to go out, but don’t worry, he’s completely lying; he just thinks it’s cute when you whine and pull his arm asking him to come out with you. 

❥ despite the fact that he is not the most romantic guy, he does a lot of romantic things without realizing. he enjoys sending you your favorite flowers when you’re at work or staying at home while he’s at work, sending cute little notes along with them, (well, you think they are pretty cute). 

i think you like these ones. -h be ready by seven. wear something you feel good in. -h sorry i didn’t buy milk. there’s frozen waffles in the freezer. -h

❥ sanzu does a lot of those little things for you too; opening doors for you, pulling chairs out for you, taking things out of your hands when you’re carrying a lot, etc. it doesn’t seem like he’s the type to do things like this, but it’s because he isn’t the type to do it. he only does it for you, and he himself doesn’t even know why he does these things, (he’s head over heels in love with you, but in no universe will he ever actually admit that). 

❥ the most protective over you, and a little possessive too. he doesn’t control everything that you do, but he likes to have a clear-cut plan of everything you do on a normal day so that his mind is put at ease, (also so he can known when something is wrong). he won’t tell you this, but he has someone assigned to keeping an eye on your as you go about your day because he’s extremely paranoid that somebody from an opposing gang will try and come after you. he would prefer if he could by your side himself, but it’s the next best option, (he still sends frequent texts and calls you throughout the day to make sure everything is well). 

❥ the possessive part of him comes out more when he thinks people are hitting on you, (they really are just being nice; he’s just a little bit crazy…he loves you though!!). he doesn’t hesitate to slide his long arms all around you, letting you continue talking while he makes a deadly eye contact with the person, his face twisted in mild disgust as if he were looking down at a cockroach, (he’s mastered this expression somehow). he knows that you enjoy talking with people so he won’t keep you from doing so, but in the process he will make sure that everybody knows you’re his. 

❥ sanzu’s not the most affectionate person there is, but he is affectionate when he wants to be. there are times when he’ll come home and not say a word, just wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in the crook of your neck, mumbling something about having a terrible day. really, he just becomes a big baby when he’s like that, laying his lanky limbs all over you and claiming that he’s ‘recharging’. 

❥ it’s hard to label sanzu as an extrovert/introvert, since it can really depend on what mood he’s in and the situation. he’s more of an introvert in public settings with other people, (he doesn’t know how to interact nicely with people he doesn’t know) but when he’s with a majority of people he knows, he turns into more of an extrovert which matches with your energy quite nicely. 

❥ unintentionally, there comes a time when you accidentally get to meet the rest of his coworkers. it happened when they were dropping him back off at home after a night at the club and you’d had to come get him from the car because of how inebriated he was. 

“woah, you’re (y/n), huh?”  “oh, yes! it’s nice to meet you! you all must work with haru, right? please continue to take good care of him! would you like to come inside for a snack or some water?”  “...dude, what the fuck.”  “how the hell did he bag someone like that?!” 

❥ safe to say, they are all extremely shocked, (they never would have thought that someone like sanzu would be dating someone as sweet and talkative as you). the next day when he gets into work, he’s immediately hounded with all types of questions surrounding you and how the two of you started to date. 

“holy shit, is that why you were acting crazy a few months ago?!”  “i wasn’t acting fuckin’ crazy?!” “sanzu, you’re the craziest person here, and you started acting normal!! that was crazy!!” 

❥ after that, he makes sure that his associates never get to see you again, (“hey, bring your pretty lil thing around sometime!”, “i would rather kill you right now.”).

[kissesforsatoru]

MINE FOREVER | wc: 1.1k

BONTEN! SANZU HARUCHIYO x GN! READER

₊˚⌗ after a bad argument with sanzu, you try to leave him. he doesn’t take it very well. or sanzu’s yandere awakening

⤷ cw : general yandere themes, violent thoughts, violent outbursts, threatening violence, choking, mentioned murder, possessive behavior, a lot of cussing, reader is in love with sanzu but vv scared of him, sanzu doesn’t really understand his emotions, comfort??? maybe??? it’s up to interpretation i guess, somewhat soft sanzu

"haruchiyo, you're being mean," you say while looking up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. your voice sounds so raw when you speak his full name, cracked and broken from all of the crying you've been doing, but no doubt the way he's been treating you attributes to the defeat in your tone.

he looks at you with an indecipherable expression, but inside of his head he's overwhelmed by thoughts assaulting him all at once at full force. mean? he's being... mean??? something about the word catches haruchiyo off guard. he's used to you screaming at him that's he's an asshole, a heartless monster, and anything else that dehumanizes and villainizes him in the worst ways, but you've never called him fucking mean before. what the hell does that even mean, and why does it hurt so fucking much to hear that coming from you? his hand reaches up hesitantly to rub at his chest where his heart is, irritated that it won't stop thumping painfully against his ribcage.

"what did you honestly expect from me, angel? i'm a murderer. murderers aren't exactly fucking nice you know," he spits, rolling his eyes. he immediately regrets it. why does he regret it?

a weak noise falls from your lips and the pang in haruchiyo's chest thrums faster, harder; he's now digging his nails into his skin with an angry growl, uncaring of if he starts to bleed. no wound, not even ones from knives or bullets, hurt as badly as whatever the fuck it is that he's experiencing right now. it's excruciating, and annoying.

you laugh, dry and bitter, "yeah, what did i expect?" you whisper under your breath just loud enough for haruchiyo to hear. you aren't agreeing with him, that much haurchiyo understands. you're questioning why the hell you're even with a crazy bastard like him.

he wants to strangle you for being so snarky, watch you struggle and beg for his fucking forgiveness for causing such a big fucking problem for no fucking reason; you should expect only bad from haruchiyo by this point, so why bother bringing up all the things he does wrong? but... sanzu doesn't move to put his hands on you even a little bit—something is stopping him. he doesn't know what.

"haruchiyo," you call, sniffling and biting back a sudden onslaught of tears, "this isn't working out."

another pang, and now a sudden feeling of restlessness itches at him along with it. shit, did he take a new drug and fucking forget about it or something? what the hell is going on with him?

"what?" he growls, finally taking a step towards you. you flinch, closing your eyes as you look away. haruchiyo ignores it despite the fact that, again, his heart aches and pounds and practically cries out in pain with the way it's beating so fucking loudly that the sound rings incessantly in his ears. 

he takes three more steps before he's right in front of you, bending down a bit so that he's face to face with you sitting on the couch. "you wanna fucking repeat that for me, sweetheart?" he hisses. you flinch again, leaning back a little bit so that he's not so close to you. you're shaking, which almost makes him smirk, but he's honestly too pissed off to really find any sort of amusement in your fear right now.

"this isn't working out, haruchiyo. i can't do this anymore," you whimper pathetically. a sob slips past your lips when haruchiyo slams his hand on the couch beside you.

"that's really too fucking bad. you're not leaving me," he snarls, pushing you down onto the couch and crawling over you to pin you under him. you whimper again when you feel his hand on your throat, right at the juncture of your neck and jaw, squeezing with enough force to be threatening, but not painful. he watches as you sob uncontrollably, hiccupping and choking on tears that slip between your pursed lips.

"haruchiyo, please," you barely are able to say through the scratchiness of your voice that cracks under each word, "you're scaring me. you always scare me, i—i can't live being scared all the time." you try to reason with him, but haruchiyo isn't a reasonable person in the least bit. he clicks his tongue.

"you're fucking mine. you belong to me; do you understand me? you don't get to leave me because of a stupid fucking reason like that. you don't get to leave ever." he squeezes on your throat tighter, still not tight enough to hurt you, but your hands instantly shoot up to grab at his wrist anyway. he doesn't try to push you off because you aren't a threat to him; he can easily overpower you and for that reason he lets you have your semblance of security.

"i asked you a fucking question, y/n, you better fucking answer me," he urges, leaning down closer to you to you to nip at your cheek in warning. you gasp and whine at the feeling and clamber to muster up a reply that will satisfy him in your fearful, anxiety ridden state.

"mhm, yes– yes, i understand, haru," you manage to get out, and you hope the nickname you always call him will help you to soothe him, reassure him enough for him to ease up and let go of your neck.

he looks down at you for just a few seconds that feel like hours under his intense gaze, and then, "good. don't you ever try to pull that shit with me again or i will break your fucking legs so you can't even dream of leaving me," he warns, letting go of your throat. he doesn't move off of you though; instead, he dips down and his tongue presses into your skin to tenderly lap at the tears that are still pitifully slipping down your cheeks, humming at the salty taste. you breathe out a sigh of relief and lay limply under him, allowing him to do with you what he pleases.

when he's done, haruchiyo lowers himself onto you all the way and wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer into his body. he kisses at your cheek and jaw sweetly, and you hate to admit that the action lulls you, calms you down and makes you feel safe again—haruchiyo has that effect on you, unfortunately.

the pain in haruchiyo's heart has dissipated, and he feels at ease knowing you no longer wanna leave him. he realizes he would die if he ever let you go and he's going to make damn fucking sure that you don't.

© 2023 by kolyasobsession━all rights reserved. modification, reproduction or plagiarism of my works and theme are strictly prohibited. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated.

[hanayumi]

𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

— bonten! sano manjirou x fem!reader x sanzu haruchiyo

part 1.5 of brittle to the bone || prev.

a prelude to your time with the man masquerading himself as your ‘guardian’.

wc. 3.5k

tags breathplay, toxic/unhealthy relationship dynamics, implied drug abuse, yandere undertones, haruchiyo pov, sfw

notes i really have no words except take this *drops the fic in your hands*

snapshot ;

It’s alien. Intangible. And as if bringing to light something that’d been kicking at the edges of his consciousness for a long long time, hinting at something his thought process was but a little slower to grasp, all at once Haurchiyo's brain flashes with the lingering memories of that same intimacy.

That tacit understanding. That silent obedience. Is it love that hides behind the way Mikey touches you when he thinks no one is looking — gently, like a lover, so different from the way he always does? At times commanding, as if bending you to his will (though he doubts you had any in the first place) — is it the way that, despite everything, you still come at his beck and call, ready to slide your arms around him at a moment’s notice even as your legs are trembling like they’re about to give out?

As far as Haruchiyo is concerned, Mikey has always been like this. Always stoic, always tip-toeing between the inconspicuous realm of boredom and apathy, and so little did he reveal his innermost thoughts. No one could ever dissect what was going on in his boss’ mind. He was unreadable to the point where it became his own trademark, with hands capable of far more violence than any of his subordinates combined. Perhaps in that invincible, impenetrable nature does Haruchiyo find solidarity: there is no one like Sano Manjirou.

But if there’s one thing that Haruchiyo has in common with his boss, it’s that it’s a losing battle to keep them listening during meetings. Frankly, if he were to be speaking facts, no one aside from Takeomi and Kokonoi bothers to pay attention. Who could fucking care less about those bottom-feeders plundering chunks outta their cargo supplies? This building, its occupants— the arteries. Drugs, inhalants— the blood. He could, theoretically (speaking in Kokonoi’s breath), put everything into its place, restore this apparently ‘delicate balance’, within a moment's notice with that gleaming steak knife of his. If only, if only they’d let him.

Money, women, drugs. That’s nice and all, but that’s not really why he joined Bonten. (Well, he might choke on that last one.) No, never, Haruchiyo isn’t infamously known as the ‘Mad Dog’ for no reason. He is a cruel, mad dog. He revels in the thrilling chase and the dizzying catch — the first strike, the feel of warm, real blood soaking his talons, and the sick wicked delight of toying with the limits of human endurance — and, guess what? He got none of that within the frigid meeting room.

What did he get instead?

Instead he got a mystery. One that eats away at him like maggots from the inside with every painstaking day. And the more he sees you, the more he is forced to remember this fact, forced to regurgitate it like a cow chewing on blades of rubber grass. Day after day after day after fucking day.

Because you were always there, your presence accompanying them more times than he can count (to serve entertainment on the side, he thought at first, except you did more than that. You distracted him. You kept his eyes on you. And you somehow chewed your doll-faced, mouselike way into his boss’ heart).

And the thought persists long after each and every meeting, sinks paranoia under his skin like pinpricks and suckerpunches to his gut; like the arctic chill circulating in the meeting room, penetrating through layers of clothing made for this sole purpose (because, he supposes, Mikey is so thick-skinned that even air-conditioning toils to have an effect on him).

He bided his time. He waited, patiently, just as his King filed out order after order — kill them, torture them for information, find out more about them, kill them…

But the order never came. It was never ‘kill her’.

(But what’s worse? That his King is taking an awfully long time to get rid of his plaything, or that said plaything can’t help but intrude his thoughts at every given moment? Desecrate his plane of thought like you had more power than everyone gave you credit for? Feeding into his horrible addiction and piercing his brain with images of herself — whimpering and snivelling, legs so shaky and fragile like a newborn foal, damp bottom lashes glued to her skin, and if he squinted he could see fresh tears brimming at the edges, eyes filming over like liquid glass — stop.)

He sighs and tosses a tiny, familiar oval-shaped object down his throat — one to last him the rest of the hour and half the bottle for the rest of the day — swallowing it dry with an exaggerated gulp. One after another, it’s almost like candy at this point. If he tries hard enough he’ll remember a time when he found salvation beyond this drug-induced haze, but at some point he stopped caring. Stopped reading the labels and recommended dosages. (Why bother? Why bother looking through the haze when he has a job to do? Especially, especially one that involves getting the answers he so desires.)

Fingernails tap a broken rhythm on the glass of a clattering pill bottle, slow and steady, like the eerie thrum of a premonition. A finely-pressed suit, dyed a deep violet with gold embroidery branching out in elegant water lilies — worn with pride by a gentleman who has known nothing but to stain it with savage killing. His elbow is propped up against the wall, and his emerald-toned gaze teeters back and forth between the other two occupants of the room. Tiredly, boorishly.

He’s tired of waiting.

Actually, more than that — he’s tired of so many things grating on his thinly-stretched patience. (He is not a man known for his patience.)

Today’s the big day. Mikey hasn’t said a word since Haruchiyo was called up to the penthouse. The top level has always been sacred — reserved for him and only him — but it’s no place that Haruchiyo hasn’t been in once or twice. Sometimes he simply sought orders in person or felt like snooping around. There was never anything of interest, though (well, nothing except you).

He fastens his eyes on you warily, keeping a reasonable distance and not making a move in fear of upsetting Mikey. Staring too much or showing remotely any interest in you always seemed a surefire way to set him off. It’s hard to believe that Takeomi was able to convince him to let you stay behind. Especially with himself, of all people. (Not that Haruchiyo thinks he’ll do a bad job. Far from that, actually; if Mikey told him to sit and stay he would do just that even if hail the size of a planet came hurtling down to earth.) He’s surprised, but he knows it isn’t like Mikey not to think ahead… perhaps, his boss has finally realised that you don’t need to be babysat like a fucking toddler.

But even toddlers have a mind of their own. Haruchiyo frowns when he looks at you, all jittery and silent, albeit for a different reason than him. You're waiting obediently by the door as Mikey throws his coat over his shoulders. He grabs his gun, his cigarettes (since when did he smoke?), his cellphone… Everything he does is agonisingly slow — every action deliberately calculated as if his brain was rewired to take the slowest route possible to the sleek black car waiting in the lobby. There must be something compelling his boss to stay, because no sooner when his hand touches the doorknob does he hesitate as it slips back down to his side.

Not again.

Haruchiyo’s chest heaves, puffs out by an inch as he gets ready to breathe a huge, exaggerated sigh — he sighs a lot these days — only for it to catch in his throat.

Mikey is hugging you.

Something does not click in him, does not register. Like a severed connection, Haruchiyo is made acutely aware that an anomaly has caused his systems to lock up and sizzle into haywire at the scene before him. Something is wrong here.

An indescribable sentimentality comes through in the way Mikey’s arms lock around you like a cage. Engulfing, territorial, as if he were trying to swallow you whole; and if Haruchiyo could see his face right now he is sure his boss would be drilling holes into his skull just for staring. Stop looking. He’s gonna get mad. But the amazement — as amusing as it is that Haruchiyo can even feel such an emotion — overpowers his obedience, when not a second later your arms come to creep around Mikey’s waist. Melding yourself into his chest, almost instinctively, as if it’d shield you from the harshness of what he’s become. Haruchiyo is almost convinced, from the compliance bleeding through your actions, that you’ve been doing this for a long time.

And, try as he might, he can’t tear his eyes away from the quiver in your bottom lip as you meet his single bewildered gaze from across the room, almost looking as if you wanted him to save you — looking like a tender lamb collected whole within the jaws of a lion. A fraction of a second, a near imperceptible intensity of emotion, and then you’re sliding your face into the side of Mikey’s neck, the subdued tremor of your shoulders the only evidence of your breathing. Everything looks of the frozen stillness of death; a snapshot taken in a graveyard, the headstone masquerading as Greek statues of lovers holding each other in death — in eternity, in life, being unable to part.

Mikey silently digs his palm into the back of your head, the small action nudging you deeper into his embrace as if the proximity wasn’t enough, never enough, and Haruchiyo feels his mouth going desert dry. Nothing makes sense. You, your presence, Mikey’s attachment to you — nothing fits together, it’s all a fucking mystery, just like the mismatched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. (And now, it is as if he’s the toddler sitting hunched over children’s toys manufactured wrong, the miniature pieces fundamentally made to jut and protest against each other.)

He can’t understand.

It’s alien. Intangible. And as if bringing to light something that’d been kicking at the edges of his consciousness for a long long time, hinting at something his thought process was but a little slower to grasp, all at once Haruchiyo's brain flashes with lingering memories of that same intimacy.

That tacit understanding. That silent obedience. Is it love that hides behind the way Mikey touches you when he thinks no one is looking — gently, like a lover, so different from the way he always does? At times commanding, as if bending you to his will (though he doubts you had any in the first place) — is it the way that, despite everything, you still come at his beck and call, ready to slide your arms around him at a moment’s notice even as your legs are trembling like they’re about to give out?

Haruchiyo is stiff as a frozen lake, but his gut stirs with unease (why?), and for a second he wonders when exactly he became so observant to anyone besides himself and his King.

His eyes settle arbitrarily on exposed skin; it’s your neck. The same neck that Mikey now has his hand wrapped around, with the same palm that was but a split second ago caressing the back of your head. His bony fingers press deep into the skin, not hard enough to form bruises, but hard enough to aggravate the existing ones and pry a mousy noise out of you.

(How does it taste, to have the king of Bonten cradling you in his arms as if the world could collapse on you at any second? And in the next minute, have his hand around your neck, the pressure just short of suffocating you, tightening ever so slowly?)

Not that good, he supposes, because from the sounds you’re making (the choked whimpers) he’s sure that you’re terrified.

“Be good.”

Mikey’s voice drags through the silence like a thin dagger. Unsympathetic. Cold.

Haruchiyo’s eyes dart away from your neck to stare at his own hand — for some reason, it’s shaking. His breath is coming out in shallow patterns, but no one except himself seems to notice. It’s almost as if he were invisible, a ghost, like you could break free of Mikey’s grip and run straight past him.

The grip on your neck tightens taut. Haruchiyo imagines the veins that pulsate beneath Mikey’s skin, the blood, the resistance. An arm twists like a leash around your waist; you panic. You mouth half his name in confusion, but it’s difficult to speak when your airways are restricted, the second half teetering into a whimper as if your voice burnt off your tongue. You put your little hands over his, sliding underneath the gaps of his fingers in an attempt to loosen them. Pathetic, choked squeals gradually increase in volume, and Haruchiyo starts to feel his own breathing stutter, and he has to start holding his breath for fear of making his presence known.

Is this it? Is this where it ends? He has his hand on your neck, Haruchiyo swallows. You’re fragile. You will die. You will snap.

But before that— before the unthinkable happens— Mikey will decide to stop. He always does. That’s right, he always does.

The palm recoils, drops, retreats back into Mikey’s shadow, allowing you enough leeway to suck oxygen down your throat. He watches on wordlessly as you still clasp your hands feebly around his for balance, amidst jagged breathing, amidst wobbling legs.

It’s then that Haruchiyo sees them. Sees the grisly purplish swirls and bite marks decorating your neck like a collar, disappearing into the thin sheet of your nightdress where he knows there must be more. Deep violet mirroring the silk-like fabric of his clothing, replicated and imprinted onto once unmarred skin; looking at you makes him think of flowers trampled underfoot. Callously bestowed, deliberate bruises that Mikey lets you parade around in, worn like a brand. A mark of ownership. Oh, my—is that what this is? A show? A display of his King’s indisputable, iron-clad authority? Haruchiyo stifles a shudder.

Mockingly similar to reaching for a kiss, Mikey leans in, his lips hovering over the shell of your ear, whispering something too soft for Haruchiyo to hear that has you freezing on the spot. Your panting breaths almost halt momentarily. He waits for your reply, a tiny little nod, after which your eyes fly downcast, mouth still parted slightly with any possible parting words left unsaid… and Haruchiyo discovers that he is just the least bit disappointed. Empathy has never been his strong suit — never had to use it, let alone learn it. He wishes he could break free of this trance and ask you: how does it feel, to be the only woman that Mikey could treat with such gentleness?

The only one.

His jaw stiffens. Somehow, the bottle in his hands has grown slick with his sweat. Somehow, his adrenaline levels have spiked from watching his King put his hands around your throat.

Mikey’s dark shadow retreats from your face when he pulls away. Beige, watered-down sunlight filters in despite the drawn blinds and bounces off the walls, flicking a certain light grey sheen over his hair when he takes a few steps. He brushes past you without a second look, drifting like the afterimage of a phantom, before he pauses. His head cocks back just at the mouth of the entryway, empty stare boring right into Haruchiyo.

(So he had noticed his presence.)

That abyssal black — that bottomless pit of emptiness. Bare-bones sin that Mikey is on his way to commit. This is what you come close to every day. This stare. All Haruchiyo can do in the face of this radiating bloodlust is incline his head in a nod. And his King is quick to fade from view, having faintly acknowledged his second-in-command. The thudding of his steps — thump, thump — reverberate as if he were treading in a black swamp.

You don’t move, don’t break free from your position where he left you, and Haruchiyo doesn’t make a move either, as if the both of you suffered under the after-effects of the same spiritual possession. Until you hear the sound of the elevator dinging amidst pin-drop silence. Slowly, as if thawing out every inch of your ball-jointed body, your figure comes back to life, all in front of his eyes: ruby-scented lifeblood flowing back into the steep crevices of your fingers, your arms, your legs, your head which turns just a sliver of a fraction —

Only to turn stiff as ice when you’re met with him in your way.

Haruchiyo can plainly see how your natural instinct to bolt like a foal kicks in, dousing your body in a bonfire’s blaze — as if a switch was flipped in your head, detaching you from the perfect doll with a thousand-mile stare. An olive gaze burns into the glittering fear reflected in your wide eyes, the widest he has ever seen them to date. He takes a step forward. Then another.

They’re even more enticing up close, he realises. Pretty.

Are they as watery as they look?

If he reaches out he thinks he can juuust about graze the spinning globes in your eye sockets. And, fully intending to test this theory, his fingertips start to raise, almost like marionette strings tied to his instinct — inching and inching, closer and closer. But true to your own instinct you recoil in abject fear, backtracking only for your back to hit against the wall, your little half-squeak sending him hurtling back to reality and blinking twice and… oh. Well. Would you just look at that?

A curious smile upturns his lips; he’s got you cornered without trying. No fun, you’re no fun. He toys with the imagination of what you see with those doe eyes so big with terror — eyes that played witness to so many impromptu executions within the pristine conference room, eyes that bored into his sleep where he could only dream of tarnishing a beauty so unknown to him. But now you’re alone. It’s just you, him, and the sun straining through opaque blinds.

What do you see? A monster? A killer?

He can’t blame you.

“I’m sorry, I-I just, um,” you stammer, your throat bobbing as you swallow — a toddler’s first words? You’re on the floor now, soundlessly yearning to escape from him as far as you can because that look in his eyes cannot mean anything good. Your lips that parted just enough to let those few words slip into the tense silence remain agape, as if you were on the verge of pleading for him to spare your life. Your fingers twist in the material of your sleep shirt, clinging to the cotton, slowly retreating into yourself like a small mouse.

A giddy excitement shoots through his veins. He straightens his back and pops his joints, making a show of stretching the muscles that’ve gone stiff from waiting, the action accompanying a shuddery chuckle. Ah. There’s something innate about you that rouses sympathy from others. If he decides to scare you a little… he doubts it’ll take much work before you’re on your knees shaking.

The scarce luminescence in the room tumbles and shifts like the different stages of limbo. He continues to hold your gaze, admiring how your pupils reflect the light. A hand extends to you and you flinch fiercely, immediately, much to his amusement. “Hey hey hey, what’s wrong? No need to be afraid,” he coos, crouching down to your height, studying your shivering form. “It’s just me, little bunny. I don’t believe I’ve properly introduced myself.”

He feels the effects of the drug start to kick in, the sluggish blurring of his conscience, but more than that he feels the beginning of an urge to press his thumb into your eye socket. “It’s really such a shame, seeing how long we’ve known each other.”

It’s going to be fun— it’s going to be delightful, he decides. A delightful little side-project while his king is off setting things straight. By the time Mikey returns, he wants to have his fill of satisfaction. Of contentment. Life has been so damn stale as of late; nothing about tormenting glitzy prostitutes rings the bell of happiness in him anymore. Mikey will probably kill me, he turns over this thought in his mind, frowning, and decides he wants to live just a little longer — so, sadly, anything fatal will have to be put aside for now.

Just for good measure, just to show respect to the wicked plan solidifying in his head, he reaches for your hand (because it’s not like you’ll willingly offer it to him, right?). He curls the tiny little thing into his own palm, beginning to feel your pulse through a thin muscle in your hands, the rapid thudthudthuds pulsating like a tiny animal fighting to preserve its life. A single word surfaces in his mind: soft. Your hands are soft, tender, just like fondling translucent silk. Huh.

A little life in his hands.

“Bonten’s number two. Sanzu Haruchiyo. You’re in good hands.”

Oh, but truthfully, in everything he does, Haruchiyo tends to overdo it. If not by a teaspoon, then by an enormous handful — an avalanche, even.

next

[simpywhore]

Tokyo Revengers incorrect quotes: (Bonten ver.)

Y/n: Why isn’t the statue smirking at me? Kokonoi: It isn’t smirking at anyone, they’re all just imagining it. Y/n: Four of us saw it, Koko. How do you explain that? Kokonoi: *points at Mikey* Sleep deprivation. *points at Kakucho* Paranoia. *points at Ran* Drunk. *points at Sanzu* High on drugs.

[bimsha]

Series : 100 WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

Inspired by: 100 ways to say I love you

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers

Pairing: Haurchiyo Sanzu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, new year, winter, temple visits, lucky charms

Tw: mentions of rehabilitation

Word count: 1.7k

The faint rustle as the breeze passed through the scattered trees and the soft tinkle of the golden bells hanging upon the entrance, were the only sounds catching your ears. The temple stood in front of you in its solitary glory. Your palms were pressed together as you prayed for good fortune, a better future where you and him could live in peace. 

“Y/n” Sanzu’s voice said as you opened your eyes and looked at him. He was standing beside you, his hands on his side, ears tinted red as the cold January air bustled around. “Want to go there?” He gestured towards the series of ponds behind the temple. They were famous among the visitors. 

Any other day, this place would be bustling with children running from one pond to the other, pointing at the koi fishes dipping under the round lotus leaves. Couples holding hands as they burned incense inhaling the fragrant aroma. Families buying lucky charms from the nearest stalls to hang upon their houses for good fortune. But it was late January, after the New Year many didn’t visit this place until the next festival time. 

“Sure” You said. He reached for your hands unconsciously and hesitated. A flash of reluctance passed through his eyes. You smiled at him reassuringly before lacing your fingers with his. Pressing your cold palms together trying to elicit some warmth. 

You two made your way towards the ponds — not frozen despite the coldness in the surrounding. The lotus leaves covered the surface of the pond, giving them only a glimpse of the bright Koi fishes swimming under them. “They are so beautiful” You said, not knowing what else to do to break this ominous silence between them. 

It had been like that the past few days. Sanzu had just returned from the rehabilitation centre. After months of therapy and various programmes he was allowed out of that place as a healed, respected citizen. But many of his former friends had gone through their own ways, and most of the people in his life still looked at him with hatred and disgust igniting in their eyes. It would take a while for them to forget everything and allow him to live and heal. You blamed no one. You knew after the things he had done, it was hard for them to give him a second chance. 

Sanzu’s grasp on your hand tightened, “Why did you wait?” He asked, breaking your thoughts. It seemed like a question burning upon his mind since the moment he saw you waiting outside the centre, ready to take him home. 

You shrugged, “I said I will.” You waited for two whole years and even skipped the new year celebrations this year because you wanted to celebrate it with him. “I promised you”

Sanzu gave you a tight-lipped smile as if he could not believe it. “You did, but I thought you might’ve moved on” His eyes were clouded with unresolved emotions as he watched the fish, swimming around in seamless freedom. “You didn’t have to wait for someone like me, you know?”

“Why should I? You promised you’d be a clean man and walk out that centre sober.” It was upon your request he decided to get help. You wanted a life with him, you really did but you knew as the man he was, he wouldn’t be able to lead his own life. He just needed the push and to save your relationship, he agreed. “And now look at you Haru, you look different but still the same, the good things I mean”

He allowed himself to smile this time, “Thank you for everything”

You grinned, squeezing his hand as you leaned against his tall, strong body. “Anytime, Haru. Anytime”

You two finally decided it was the time to leave. But before that, both of you stopped by a small stall that sold lucky charms. The seller  — a man in his mid-thirties looked as if he was about to pass out from boredom of the slow day, looked upon them with a smile and gestured at the wooden board consisting of charms in different colours and designs. “This one’s a charm for couples” He said, flashing them a look. “It’s really effective”

You two shared a glance with a smile, “Well” Sanzu said, dropping a few coins to the open palm of the seller. “We’ll take two” 

After that, you two decided to walk along the slippery path leading to the main street. The previous night snowfall had left patches of white across the road. Some of it melted as trickles of water turned into muddy puddles in front of them. 

Sanzu was examining the lucky charm, “Do you believe in this stuff?”

You shrugged, “Don’t know. Might as well take our chances” 

Sanzu raised his brow, “Really?” 

You grinned, throwing your hands in the air in excited glee, “Well, here’s for a happy future” Your voice resonating through the empty road only disturbed by the faint sound of the car tires and horns down the city. 

Sanzu nudged you with an exaggerated eye roll, “You made your point-” You ungracefully cut him off by almost slipping off the road and tumbling face first into a puddle. Sanzu reached out of pure reflex and grabbed your elbow before you could take the fall. 

“Jesus, Y/n. Watch your step” He said, bewildered  and baffled, worried that you might’ve gotten hurt. 

“Bless your quick reflexes” You said as he let go of your elbow. Sanzu huffed reaching down to flick your forehead. You jut out your bottom lip in mock annoyance. 

“Still the same clumsy Y/n, aren’t you?”

“I’ve gotten better” You defended, crossing your arms. Sanzu raised his brow, “No, really” You said again, “It’s just this road is slippery”

“Sure” He said, dragging off the last syllable a bit too loud. “Come here” He extended his hand and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you close. You could feel his warm body against yours chasing away the coldness of the winter. “Now hold on tight until we go down this road”

“Yes, sir” You grinned, wrapping your own arm around him, feeling the familiarity seep in. This is how you two used to be back then. Sweet and affectionate. Speaking with unrestrained freedom. He had his faults and he was willing to correct them for you. He didn’t want to let you go. So, he complied and decided to make his life right. 

You pressed your face to the side of his jacket, inhaling his comforting scent. Everyone deserved a second chance. And this man, who was willing to go any lengths just to protect the love you had in between each other deserved it more than the most. 

So you held onto him tight. Listening to his voice nagging you about your clumsy nature, knowing there was no need for I love you’s. It was all the more in that worry, that dedication and those sapphire eyes, looking at you as if you’re the center of his universe. 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

hiiii! Just wanna ask would you consider making a part 2 for rain bringer like them meeting again and stuff 🥺 you write so good btw! Your works are amazing as always 💗💗 and i hope you have a great day 🧚‍♀️

Rain Bringer (Part 2): Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 2.2k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

Takeomi wonders where you are.

It's been almost a decade since he last saw your beautiful face, your lips parting to whisper your final words to him in the middle of the night.

It had been raining then, but as he thinks about you, it's not raining, and he's staring out of a window while he brings his cigarette to his lips.

"Are you even listening, Akashi?" Sanzu grumbles.

"No." The confident answer throws his brother off, but then the pink-haired man grunts once, turning away to look at the papers in his hands.

"Well, Mikey will want to know about the property, soon. You gonna tell him?"

"No."

"What's gotten into you?" Sanzu hisses, placing his hands on the wooden table. "You're not acting right. Something wrong?"

"No." Sanzu throws his hands up, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, be cryptic as fuck; I don't care. Tell Mikey or don't. You make the choice."

"I'm not going to." Takeomi wants to walk the streets for a little while, clear his head of Bonten, think about you, and let himself feel the void that's still sort of there. It's gotten easier over the years, but the wound - like the one over his eye - is everpresent, sometimes taking his breath away and other times just a slow, dull throbbing that he can't really get rid of.

Fuck.

When the air hits him, Takeomi begins to stride down the pavement, eyes on his shoes while people make way. No one would dare bump into him - not here, anyway - because he commands the streets. This is his town. No one lived here without his permission.

But for some reason... you're in his mind. Taking up space. Living there rent-free.

Why was he thinking about you so much lately?

What would you say if you could see him now?

You hadn't been seen for so long... and he hadn't heard a single word about you since that night. You vanished into the wind, like some ghost. And it bothered him to his core; it left him without closure.

For all he knew, you and Shinichiro were together, frolicking about in the afterlife, while he lived out his hellish existence. Sounds like a fitting punishment, he thinks wryly.

And when Takeomi walks past the old gym, his first mind doesn't say anything about it. That gym had been there for ages, abandoned in the wake of Bonten's arrival since it housed some other gang. It was a relic and a trophy displaying how they'd grown so fast and so fearsome. Takeomi loved walking by it and feeling the emptiness with his heart.

But when he walks past it today...

The smell of something sweet catches his attention.

And he looks over at the doors, the windows displaying a yoga class in full swing.

Yoga? What the fuck is this doing here? And when did anyone run this by him? Takeomi pulls on the door handles, the tinkling of bells announcing his arrival. The teacher, a young woman probably no older than twenty-one, looks up from her adjustments with a client and smiles at him widely.

"Hello, sir," she beams. "We just started this class, but we're starting another one in thirty minutes if you'd like to come back then."

The patrons look from her to him, eyes widening in fear at the sight of him in a suit and smoking a cigarette. Didn't she know who he was?

"What the fuck is this?" Takeomi snaps, motioning at the various items around the room. "Who told you that you could have this property?"

"Mr. Haruchiyo said he would run it by Mr. Akashi, sir."

"I'm Mr. Akashi," he gripes. "And Sanzu never told me about your little woo-woo classes. You need to get the hell out of here before you get hurt."

The woman raises a brow, but stands up, walking over to him and nodding. "Mr. Haurchiyo assured us you would be overseeing the transfer of ownership. I'll retrieve the documents for you if you want."

"I'll be back tomorrow to review them, then," Takeomi grumbles, striding out of the studio without so much as a word edgewise.

_____________________________________________________________

"That's why the rent is so low."

Keizo Arashi - who is also the owner of the gym, as it turns out -shovels some food into his mouth, smirking at Takeomi while he eats.

"Exactly. Owning a studio isn't cheap, but it's enjoyable. So Sanzu cut me a little deal."

The place Keizo dragged him to after teaching him a yoga class at the studio is a brunch spot, just classy enough for Takeomi to shower and change into something a little less casual.

"Why isn't your name on the documents?"

"Had to brand my studio. Business shit, you know?" The vines about Keizo's head decorate the entire patio of the spot, distracting from the fans placing around to keep customers cool in the heat. "But what about you? Haven't seen you in a minute."

"You know what I'm up to." Keizo laughs heartily.

"You should've seen Hanami's face yesterday when she told me about your little intrusion. I was practically howling!" He mimics a scared face, then bursts into laughter again, holding his fork tightly. "Priceless!"

Takeomi laughs, too, feeling the ease of being with an old friend settle in. This is exactly what he needed. This... being with someone who really knew him, who knew his past, who knew his--

His eyes flick to the doors that open, and he looks away before looking back at the figure that walks through them, eyes alight and face aglow, dressed in a bright yellow chiffon dress covered in deep pink flowers.

"Holy fucking shit..."

Keizo catches the sight of you, too, his mouth drying up. The two men watch you approach a table of women, smiling and hugging each of them with excitement before taking your place in between them. Neither of them caught any sign of rings on your fingers, but you looked well-cared for. You looked happy. You look... you look like you're enjoying life.

Takeomi's heart threatens to burst.

His inner peace flits away on the wind, and Keizo clears his throat, eyes returning to his plate.

"Is this brunch over?"

"No," Takeomi whispers. "No, it's just getting started."

With a wave of the hand, a waitress comes over to the table.

"You see that one in the yellow dress?" Takeomi whispers to him, and the woman nods. "Make sure she gets whatever she wants. And put it on my bill."

"Should I tell her you're paying for it, sir?"

Takeomi hesitates. If you found out he was paying for it, he'd probably never hear the end of it. But if he stayed silent and never told you, you might disappear again. Is it worth it?

"No. Just tell her it's been covered."

An hour later, the bills come out. Takeomi hasn't spoken a word to Keizo since you arrived, trying to catch some snippets of conversation while he's hidden behind the man. But he's fruitless, not getting anything at all.

Keizo receives his bill, but Takeomi doesn't get one, and his card is returned with your bill instead.

You hadn't eaten much - only thirty dollars worth of food, which seemed to be shuffled around on your plate mostly.

"Where's my bill for my meal?" Takeomi wonders, but the waitress grimaces.

"Sir, it's been paid for already."

"By who?"

When the waitress points to you, his heart stops. Again.

You'd seen him. You knew he was here.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Keizo jokes, but Takeomi really feels like he's going to throw up. Does this mean you wanted to talk to him? Does this mean you wanted anything?

Were you just being nice?

What---

You and your friends begin to leave, and Keizo sighs. "I'm about to be forgotten in five... four... three... two..."

"Y/n," Takeomi calls out, and you turn to look at him, your friends stopping as well. You blink, then wave them on, saying you call when you get home. You walk toward the two men, suppressing a smile.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged out of the sewers."

"Always a pleasure to run into you," Keizo mumbles as you lean over and press a kiss to his temple.

"And you."

"Still holding onto that little dream of yours?"

"Every day," you reply, winking at him. But Takeomi can't find any words to say, feeling ten years of his life just fly by him again.

"I'll be going now," Keizo mutters, standing and nodding at Takeomi. "Don't stay here until closing. They charge for the tablespace per hour." You sit down in Keizo's seat, waiting for Takeomi to sit, too. When he finally does, both of you wait to speak.

"I should say something," Takeomi breathes, and you lean forward, looking into his purple eyes.

"I should apologize."

"For what?" The innocence of his question almost breaks your heart, but you continue.

"For doing what I did that night." You reach a hand across the table and take his fingers in yours. "Takeomi, I haven't been able to stop thinking about what I said."

"It's been ten years..." he whispers, not admitting that he's been the same way. "Why didn't you just call or..." He stops, seeing the regret on your face. "Are you talking to me now that I have more money?"

"More money?" You frown, squinting your eyes. "Takeomi, I paid for your meal because I didn't know if you had any money."

"Do I look that poor?"

"Do I?" No.

"You look like someone's taking very good care of you," Takeomi admits, eyes lowering.

"So do you," you echo sadly.

"Is he good to you at least?" Takeomi's eyes are pleading with you to tell him the truth, and you sigh.

"Is she good to you?"

"What makes you think I've seen anyone since?" You open your mouth to reply but then close it sharply. "I can't get you out of my head, no matter how hard I try." You don't even hesitate to speak.

"Then why did you walk away?"

"I thought it would be best for us," he begins. "Best for you. I didn't want you to feel trapped by me."

"I could never..." The words comfort Takeomi in a way that brings him a peace he couldn't attain from anything else, especially not yoga.

_____________________________________________________________

"You can touch me, you know." You're standing between Takeomi's legs, dressed in a silk slip he'd purchased for you hours before. "I won't turn into dust or break." You place your hands on his broad shoulders, inviting him to run his fingers over your skin like he used to.

When he doesn't, you keep eye contact with him but pull his hands up to your waist. Takeomi's fingers hesitantly press against the slip, and when he finds that you're still there - still real - he leans his head on your chest and inhales deeply.

"Oh, my god." Takeomi can't control himself. His fingers run up and down your body with abandon, threatening to tear into your skin if he continued on like this. "I can't," he finally murmurs. "I can't."

His shaking fingers pull away from you, and you press your lips together, nodding.

"I understand."

"No, you don't." Takeomi presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I've waited for so long to touch you again... and now I'm ruining it."

"No..." you whisper, crouching down to look at Takeomi in the eyes. "No, you're not. You need more time."

"I don't want more time," he emphasizes with a groan. "I want you. Now. But I just..." Your lips come up to his, pressing against them tenderly in one single kiss. Takeomi feels some of his fear slipping away on the heels of your kiss, but he can't fully let himself go. You lean your head on his left knee, hand on his arm, closing your eyes.

No. He'd waited for ten years for this moment.

Takeomi pulls you up to your feet, standing and turning you around suddenly, so your back is on the bed. And he fully kisses you on the lips, feeling every nerve in his body light up.

"Takeomi--" you try to whisper, but he covers your lips again and again and again, hungrily kissing you until you're drunk on his essence. He's got you, hook, line, and sinker. And he's not letting you get away this time.

When Takeomi pushes into your wet cunt, his dick throbs, remembering that this is how you felt a decade ago. Warm, wet, willing...

But things are a little different now. You're both older, wiser, and less focused on death and destruction. You're not hell-bent on ruining each other anymore. Well, not in the bad sense, at least.

"Feels like heaven," Takeomi groans, kissing down your neck eagerly. "I can't believe you're here right now."

"Believe it," you pant, clutching onto his back. "I'm not leaving you again." Takeomi does believe you. He believes you to the moon and back, and swears to himself that he'll make up for the lost time. He'll do it for the rest of his life if he has to.