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thatonestorywriter · 4 months ago

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Hurt But Not Broken Chapter One

It had been seven years since the Phantom Thieves defeated Yaldabaoth, and in those years, Ren Amamiya had settled into a quiet, lonely existence. His once-thriving connections had faded, lost to time and the natural drift of busy lives. He lived alone in a modest apartment—well, not entirely alone. Morgana still lingered, a loyal shadow of the past, though even the talking cat couldn't mend the growing void in Ren's heart. He worked whatever jobs he could find, not out of passion, but necessity, and his nights were spent in a haze of alcohol, drowning himself in the numb comfort of intoxication. It was easier that way. Easier than confronting the crushing grief that still held him in its grip. Akechi was gone. He had died in that palace, and no matter how much Ren tried to move forward, the loss clung to him like a second skin. He had tried dating, each attempt a hollow endeavor, a desperate grasp at normalcy that crumbled time and time again. No one could compare. No one could replace the one who had challenged him, who had understood him in ways no one else could. Each night, he clutched the glove Akechi had once thrown at him, a relic of their shared past, and let silent tears lull him to sleep.

Akechi, against all odds, had survived. He had walked away from the wreckage of his old life and carved a new one in the shadows, working as a freelance private detective. But it was hardly a life worth envying. His diet was an afterthought, his body thin from neglect, and his sleep schedule a chaotic mess of either restless nights or days lost to exhaustion. He told himself it didn’t matter. That Ren was better off without him. That his presence would only reopen wounds that time had worked to heal. And so, he stayed away. Until fate intervened in the most mundane of ways.

It happened in a grocery store.

Amid the aisles of everyday normalcy, after seven years of living as ghosts in each other's absence, Ren and Akechi locked eyes once more.

Ren’s breath caught in his throat, his fingers tightening instinctively around the plastic basket he had been holding. He wasn’t sure if it was the fluorescent lighting of the grocery store playing tricks on him, or if the years of drunken nights and loneliness had finally driven him to hallucinate, but Akechi was standing there, very much alive. His usual brown hair had grown longer, now neatly tied into a low ponytail, though the elegance of it was undercut by the stark patch covering his right eye. Ren’s gaze lingered on it, his mind reeling. That wound—was it from the palace? Had it been permanent? How much damage had been done to him that day?

But before Ren could even think to ask, Akechi’s sharp gaze swept over him, and something flickered in those piercing eyes—recognition, hesitation, maybe even guilt. Ren knew he looked different. It wasn’t just the years that had changed him, but the weight of them. His once soft, fluffy black hair was now wild and unruly, a far cry from the neatly tousled look he used to maintain. Bright streaks of red, purple, and blue bled through the strands, as though his very being had tried to paint over the grief that consumed him. His glasses—abandoned long ago—had left his dark eyes bare, dull with exhaustion yet burning with something volatile. His clothes were too casual, almost careless, hanging off his frame in a way that suggested he had long stopped putting effort into his appearance. And then there was the piercing—a simple stud at the corner of his bottom lip, a quiet rebellion against the person he used to be.

But what caught Akechi’s attention the most was the tattoo etched into Ren’s arm, exposed by the loose sleeve of his hoodie. It was unmistakable—his masks, both the red and the black, suspended in a shattered hourglass, sand spilling from the cracks like the time they had lost. Akechi’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He knew that look. It was grief, loss, something Ren had been forced to carry for seven long years. And it was all because of him.

Ren, however, wasn’t focused on any of that. His mind wasn’t reeling over how much Akechi had changed or the way the detective’s frame looked thinner, worn down by whatever lonely existence he had been leading. No, all Ren could focus on was the simple, undeniable fact that Akechi was here. Breathing. Alive.

“Akechi…?” His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of every sleepless night, every empty bottle, every tear shed over a man he had thought was lost forever.

Akechi inhaled sharply, his expression unreadable as he took in the sight of Ren standing before him. After a long, weighted pause, he finally spoke.

“Amamiya.”

His voice was smooth, calculated, as though the name held no deeper significance than any other passing stranger he might have greeted in his years as a detective. There was no warmth in his tone, no indication that they had once stood on the same battlefield, that their lives had been irreversibly entwined. Just a name, spoken like an afterthought. Then, with the same detached air, Akechi continued, his words carefully measured.

“There’s no business to be had here. I’ll be on my way.”

And just like that, he turned, making a move to leave as if this moment, this chance encounter, meant nothing. As if seven years had not passed, as if Ren had not spent every one of them drowning in the weight of his absence.

Ren's heart clenched, and before he could think, before hesitation could root him in place, his body moved on instinct. His fingers curled around Akechi’s wrist—not tightly, not in a way that demanded, but in a way that pleaded.

“You—” The word caught in Ren’s throat, breath shuddering as the first prick of tears stung his eyes. His grip trembled. “You’re really here…”

The moment Akechi turned to face him, his gaze landed on those forming tears, and something in his cold, composed mask cracked. It wasn’t dramatic—it wasn’t something that would be obvious to the casual observer—but Ren had known Akechi. Had known him well enough to recognize the way his breath hitched just slightly, the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way his jaw tightened as if bracing against something he didn’t know how to fight.

Ren had always been so composed, so controlled in his emotions, and yet, here he was, eyes glassy, lips slightly parted as if afraid that if he let go, Akechi would vanish. That this was just another cruel dream, another night spent lost in the haze of longing and regret.

Akechi had prepared himself for a lot of things—for the possibility of running into someone from the past, for the idea that maybe, one day, Ren would learn that he was alive. But he had not prepared for this. For the way Ren was looking at him now. For the way his name—his real name, not some alias, not a formal greeting—shook with something raw, something vulnerable.

And for the first time in seven years, Akechi found himself at a loss for words.

Akechi's throat felt tight, his carefully constructed composure fracturing beneath the weight of Ren’s gaze. He should have expected this—should have anticipated that if Ren ever saw him again, it wouldn’t be a simple, clean break. But nothing had ever been simple between them, had it? And now, here he was, standing in a grocery store of all places, watching as Ren clung to him like he was something precious, something irreplaceable.

Ren’s grip on his wrist trembled, and Akechi could feel the warmth of his skin, the quiet desperation in the way he refused to let go. Those crimson-tinted eyes—once sharp, once filled with defiance and determination—now shimmered with unshed tears, filled with something Akechi hadn’t been ready to face. Seven years of grief. Seven years of longing. Seven years of believing he was dead.

Ren swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried a weight that threatened to crush them both. “I thought… I thought I lost you.”

Akechi exhaled slowly, forcing himself to look away. He couldn't afford to waver. Couldn’t afford to let himself be swept into the tide of emotions Ren was drowning in. “You should have moved on, Amamiya,” he murmured, his voice betraying the slightest tremor, the faintest trace of something unspoken.

Ren let out a shaky breath, a broken sort of laugh escaping his lips. “You say that like it was ever an option.” His fingers curled tighter, like he was afraid Akechi would slip away if he loosened his grip for even a second. “You were gone, Akechi. I tried—I tried everything. But no matter what I did, nothing… nothing could replace you.” His voice cracked on the last word, and Akechi flinched, as if struck by something far sharper than any blade.

The silence between them was suffocating. Akechi should have pulled away, should have walked out of that store and left the past where it belonged. But instead, he found himself standing there, frozen, staring at the tattoo inked onto Ren’s arm. His masks—his old selves—trapped in a shattered hourglass, time slipping through the cracks. A painful, undeniable reminder that he had never truly left Ren’s thoughts.

“You idiot,” Akechi muttered under his breath, though there was no malice behind it, only something raw, something dangerously close to regret.

Ren let out a weak chuckle, wiping at his eyes with his free hand before fixing Akechi with a look that was equal parts exhausted and relieved. “Yeah,” he admitted softly. “I guess I am.”

Akechi should have left. Should have turned and walked away, like he had planned.

But with Ren looking at him like that, with the ghost of old wounds between them and the undeniable pull of something neither of them could name, he found himself doing the one thing he had promised himself he wouldn’t.

He stayed.

Ren opened his mouth, words scrambling in his head, desperate to be spoken but never forming properly. He had so many questions, so many things he needed to say—where had Akechi been all this time? Why hadn’t he come back? Had he been alone this whole time? Was he okay?

But before he could find the right words, Akechi exhaled, tilting his head slightly as if scrutinizing him. “I suppose I should be the one to ask first,” he murmured, his voice measured but sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. His gaze flicked over Ren’s face, taking in every detail he had ignored moments ago. “What happened to you?”

Ren stiffened. Akechi’s expression wasn’t mocking, but there was something unnervingly perceptive in the way he studied him. “You look… unruly.” Akechi’s eyes trailed over the wild mess of Ren’s longer black hair, the vibrant streaks of red, purple, and blue threaded through it like remnants of something chaotic and impulsive. “Your hair—colored, unkempt.” His gaze dipped lower, to the piercing at the corner of Ren’s lip, and his brow twitched slightly. “A piercing, too. And then, of course—” His eyes landed on the tattoo again, lingering on the shattered hourglass that held his masks captive.

Ren’s fingers twitched at his side. He knew where this was going.

Akechi exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Ren swallowed thickly, averting his gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Akechi said smoothly, arms crossing, “that this—” he gestured vaguely at Ren, “—isn’t just some natural change over time, is it?” He cocked his head slightly, studying Ren’s reaction. “No, this is something else entirely.” His voice dropped slightly, growing softer but no less piercing. “What happened to you, Ren?”

Ren opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He had been prepared for anger, for disbelief, maybe even an outright dismissal, but Akechi had cut straight to the heart of it, as if he could see the truth bleeding through Ren’s skin.

Ren needed an excuse. Something simple, something that wouldn’t expose everything. “I just… wanted a change,” he tried, but even he could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Akechi let out a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Don’t insult me.” His eyes flicked back to Ren’s, sharp and knowing. “You were never the type to make impulsive decisions like that, not without a reason. And if I had to guess…” His voice trailed off, his gaze flickering with something unreadable. “You were searching for something. Or maybe… trying to escape something.”

Ren’s fingers clenched into fists. Damn him. Damn him for still being able to see right through him, even after all these years.

“I—” Ren started, but again, the words failed him. How could he say it? How could he tell Akechi that he had been self-destructing for years, that he had tried to replace him in the arms of others only to find emptiness? That the colors in his hair, the ink on his skin, the metal in his lip—all of it had been desperate attempts at control, at feeling something when everything else had gone numb?

Akechi watched him carefully, waiting, and then—his gaze softened, just slightly. “You were grieving,” he said quietly.

Ren flinched. He hadn’t expected Akechi to say it out loud, hadn’t expected him to put it into words so effortlessly. His throat tightened, and he looked away, unable to meet Akechi’s gaze any longer.

“I thought you were dead,” Ren admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I—” His breath shook, and he forced himself to meet Akechi’s eyes. “You were dead.”

Akechi’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his gaze. A quiet understanding. A regret Ren couldn’t quite decipher.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of seven years pressed down on them, thick and suffocating.

Then, Akechi sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “Well,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “I suppose I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”

Ren let out a shaky breath, nodding before he could even think. Yes. Yes, Akechi owed him an explanation. Seven years. Seven years of emptiness, of drowning in grief, of trying and failing to find some semblance of peace. Seven years of holding onto the past like a lifeline, only to have it come crashing into him in the middle of a goddamn grocery store.

Akechi sighed again, glancing to the side as if debating where to even begin. “Not here,” he muttered, eyes shifting toward the other patrons passing by, their hushed conversation already starting to draw attention. He clicked his tongue in irritation, then looked back at Ren. “Come with me.”

Ren hesitated for only a second before nodding, his fingers loosening from Akechi’s wrist. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not yet, not when his heart was still hammering in his chest, not when his body was still struggling to process the reality in front of him. Akechi—his Akechi—was alive. Breathing. Standing before him like some cruel trick of fate.

Without another word, Akechi turned and strode toward the store’s exit. Ren followed automatically, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts. He barely remembered to set his shopping basket aside before stepping out into the cool evening air, where the sky had darkened to deep shades of purple and blue, the neon signs of nearby buildings casting faint glows against the pavement.

Akechi stood a few steps ahead, his posture stiff, guarded, as if he wasn’t sure how to proceed. The years had changed him, too—his frame was thinner, his face sharper, like someone who had long forgotten the meaning of proper rest. His coat, once pristine and tailored, now seemed a little worn, a little too big on his frame. He looked… tired.

Ren swallowed hard. “Akechi.”

Akechi turned slightly, his visible eye unreadable. “I know,” he murmured, his voice lacking its usual sharpness. “You have questions.”

Ren’s throat felt tight. “That’s an understatement.”

Akechi huffed a small, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure it is.” He glanced at Ren again, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze before he shook his head. “But first, let me ask you one more thing.”

Ren blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Akechi’s gaze lingered on him, studying him in a way that made Ren’s skin prickle. Then, after a long pause, he finally asked, “Would you have wanted me to come back?”

Ren’s breath hitched. The question knocked the air out of him, leaving him momentarily stunned. Would he have wanted Akechi to come back? The answer was so painfully obvious that it almost made him laugh.

He clenched his fists, the tears he had been holding back threatening to spill again. “Of course I would have,” he said, his voice breaking slightly despite his best efforts. “How could you even ask that?”

Akechi didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked away, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. “I see,” he murmured, more to himself than anything.

Ren’s heart clenched at the way Akechi refused to meet his gaze. “Akechi…”

But Akechi shook his head, composing himself with a deep breath. “Then,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I suppose I really do owe you an explanation.”

Ren swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for what Akechi was about to tell him, but after seven years of silence, of grief, of desperately clinging to the ghost of the man before him—he knew one thing for certain.

He needed to hear the truth.

Akechi let out a slow breath, as if steadying himself before finally speaking. “After I stayed behind in Shido’s Palace… I didn’t think I’d make it out.” His voice was even, but there was something guarded in his tone, something deeply buried beneath the surface. “The cognition of myself and I both had our guns drawn, and in the end… I managed to pull the trigger first.”

Ren sucked in a breath, his fingers unconsciously curling.

Akechi’s visible eye darkened, the weight of his words settling between them like a phantom. “But it wasn’t clean. Far from it.” His fingers twitched at his side. “In the chaos, I sustained a… lasting injury.” He exhaled through his nose, reaching up briefly to tap the eyepatch covering his right eye. “The fight cost me my eye.”

Ren’s breath hitched, his gaze flicking to the intricate embroidery of the eyepatch, the detail so precise that it almost distracted from the painful truth behind it. He wanted to ask, wanted to demand more details—had it been painful? Had he been alone when it happened? Had he thought about calling for help?

But Akechi continued before Ren could voice anything. “I don’t remember how I got out,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, as if the memory itself was hazy. “Everything was a blur of pain, exhaustion, and adrenaline. I barely managed to drag myself out of that palace before it collapsed, and once I did, I knew I couldn’t go back.” His lips curled into something bitter. “Not yet.”

Ren’s brows furrowed. “Why?”

Akechi’s expression remained unreadable. “Because if Shido’s hold on the world was still intact, my presence would have put you and the others at risk. He would have hunted me down, and if he found me alive, he would have used me against you.” He looked away, jaw tightening. “So I waited. I laid low, kept myself hidden until the inevitable happened—until Shido had his change of heart.”

Ren swallowed hard. The thought of Akechi, injured and alone, waiting in the shadows for things to settle… It made his chest ache.

Akechi exhaled sharply. “Once it was over, I had no intention of returning to my old life. I left the detective world behind, at least for a while.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “But the truth is, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My entire existence had been built around deception, manipulation, and revenge. Without it… I was lost.”

Ren listened in silence, taking in every word, every subtle shift in Akechi’s tone.

“I ended up falling back into it,” Akechi continued, running a hand through his long ponytail. “Not as the prodigy detective, not as the ‘ace’ people once knew, but as a freelance investigator. I took cases that suited me, ignored ones that didn’t. Even now, I only stay in the field when it benefits me.” He smirked slightly, but it didn’t reach his eye. “I suppose the public still finds me fascinating, though. The disgraced detective turned private investigator. A story that never fails to sell.”

Ren’s heart twisted at the detached way Akechi spoke, as if his own life was nothing more than a spectacle to others.

Akechi turned his gaze back to him, the cool sharpness returning. “That’s my side of things. Now, it’s your turn.” His voice lost its softness, regaining its usual calculating edge. “What happened to you?”

Ren tensed.

Akechi’s eye traveled over him again, taking in every detail—the unruly hair, the streaks of unnatural color, the piercing, the tattoo that spoke volumes about his grief. “Seven years is a long time, but this?” Akechi gestured at him. “This isn’t just change. This is something else entirely.”

Ren’s throat tightened. “I—” He hesitated. He could lie, but Akechi was too smart for that. He could deflect, but Akechi would see right through it.

Akechi stepped closer, his gaze sharp, relentless. “And then there’s this.”

Ren blinked in confusion as Akechi’s eyes flicked downward, locking onto something on his right hand.

Ren followed his gaze—and his breath caught.

The glove.

His fingers twitched, instinctively curling inward, but it was too late. Akechi had seen it.

A long, suffocating silence stretched between them as realization dawned in Akechi’s gaze. His eyes widened just slightly, and for a moment—just a moment—his usual cool, unreadable mask cracked.

“That…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “That’s mine.”

Ren felt his pulse hammering against his ribs, but he didn’t deny it. How could he? The proof was right there—Akechi’s glove, the very same one he had tossed at Ren all those years ago as a challenge, now worn as if it were something sacred.

Akechi’s expression was unreadable, his breath uneven. “You kept it?” His voice wavered just slightly, as if the words themselves felt foreign leaving his lips.

Ren swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I—” He hesitated, gripping the fabric of the glove tightly. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

Akechi’s eye widened, just a fraction, but enough for Ren to see the impact of his words.

Another silence fell between them, thick with things neither of them knew how to say.

For the first time since they had locked eyes in that grocery store, Akechi had no clever words, no calculated remarks. Just quiet disbelief, and something deeper—something fragile, something raw—lingering just beneath the surface.

Ren exhaled a long, unsteady breath, knowing there was no point in hiding anything now. Akechi had already seen through him, already cracked open the carefully constructed walls Ren had built around himself over the years. And honestly? Maybe he wanted him to. Maybe he needed someone to see, to understand.

“I lost them,” Ren admitted, his voice quieter now, hoarse from years of silence. “All of them.” He looked down at his hand, at the glove, before sighing. “At first, it was natural. We were busy, you know? After everything… we all had lives to get back to. But little by little, I started hearing from them less. It was never intentional, I think. Just…” His fingers twitched. “Time. Distance.” He swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I had Morgana, at least. He never left.” He let out a small, humorless chuckle. “Not that I made things easy for him, either.”

Akechi was listening intently, his eye never leaving Ren’s face. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dangerously sharp in his gaze, something that told Ren to keep going.

“I tried dating,” Ren continued, forcing a weak smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Figured if I was going to start over, I might as well try to build something… real. But every single one of them left.” His fingers curled into a loose fist. “Some wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. Others just wanted the idea of me—the former Phantom Thief, the man with a past they could romanticize. And some…” His voice turned bitter. “Some were just in it for what they could take from me.”

Akechi’s expression darkened slightly, but he stayed silent, letting Ren speak.

“The last one,” Ren continued, his voice barely above a whisper, “I thought she was different. I really did.” He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “She stayed for a whole year. A year. I thought she understood me, thought she actually cared, but in the end…” His breath hitched. “She told me the only reason she stuck around was because I was easy to manipulate. That I wasn’t always that way, but over time, I just… stopped fighting back.” His shoulders sagged. “She said I was nothing but a challenge to her. And when I wasn’t interesting anymore, she left.”

Akechi’s eye flashed with something sharp, something volatile, but he remained silent, his jaw tight.

“That was the final push, I think,” Ren admitted, letting his head tilt back slightly, as if staring at the sky might keep him from falling apart. “I stopped living. I just… existed.” He exhaled shakily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I work whatever job I can get, not because I care about any of it, but because it keeps me occupied. I talk to Morgana, even when I don’t have anything to say, just to fill the silence. I scroll through my phone, even when nothing interests me, because the idea of being alone with my own thoughts is unbearable.”

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening at his sides. “Most nights, I’m drunk.”

Akechi stiffened.

Ren let out a weak, self-deprecating laugh. “It helps me sleep. Or at least, it used to. Now I just drink because… I don’t know. Because it’s something to do? Because it makes everything a little less sharp?” He shrugged. “Because I can’t stand the quiet?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

Ren finally looked up, meeting Akechi’s gaze, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Anger? Pity? Disgust?

But when Akechi finally spoke, his voice was low, controlled—but there was something beneath it, something simmering.

“You’re telling me,” Akechi said slowly, carefully, “that you’ve been living like this for years?”

Ren exhaled through his nose. “I wouldn’t call it living.”

Akechi’s fingers twitched at his side, his visible eye narrowing slightly. “And you never thought to reach out? Never thought to let someone—anyone—help you?”

Ren let out a bitter laugh. “Who?” he asked, spreading his arms slightly. “Who was there to help me, Akechi? I lost everyone. I tried moving on, and every attempt left me worse than before. So I stopped.” He let his arms drop, his voice quieter now. “I stopped hoping for anything different.”

Akechi inhaled sharply, his expression unreadable, but Ren could tell—he was furious. Not at Ren, not in the way he used to be, but at the situation. At the fact that Ren had been left alone to spiral for seven years, with no one to stop him.

“Unbelievable,” Akechi muttered under his breath, his fingers twitching again, as if resisting the urge to reach out, to do something. His visible eye darkened. “All that time… and no one noticed? No one cared?”

Ren let out another quiet chuckle. “I guess not.”

Akechi’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. “That’s unacceptable,” he said, his voice tight, controlled—but there was an unmistakable fire behind it.

Ren blinked. “…What?”

Akechi’s eye locked onto him, something intense, something unwavering burning in his gaze. “You,” he said firmly, “are an idiot.”

Ren let out a surprised laugh, but before he could respond, Akechi took a step closer.

“And unfortunately for you, Amamiya,” Akechi continued, his voice sharp but undeniably resolute, “I refuse to let you keep living like this.”

Akechi clicked his tongue in irritation, his visible eye burning with something fierce, something unyielding. “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. This ends now.”

Ren blinked, caught off guard. “What—”

But Akechi didn’t let him finish. “Let’s go down the list, shall we?” He held up one hand, fingers ticking off one by one as he began his tirade. “You drink yourself to sleep most nights—unacceptable. You bounce between meaningless jobs with no direction—ridiculous. You let yourself rot in isolation, relying on a talking cat of all things to keep you sane—pathetic.” His voice was razor-sharp, each word slicing through Ren’s defenses. “You have completely neglected your health, your habits, and frankly, your dignity.”

Ren opened his mouth to protest, but Akechi wasn’t finished.

“And as of right now, as of this very moment, I refuse to allow you to keep wasting away under the comfort of alcohol and self-destruction.” He took a step closer, his presence practically suffocating. “You need to be watched over, and not just by some damn talking cat who, let’s be honest, is far too lenient with you.”

Ren took a step back, eyes widening. “Akechi—”

“No.” Akechi’s voice was final, absolute. “You had your chance to pull yourself together. Seven years, and this is what you’ve done with it?” His gaze flicked over Ren again, judgmental but laced with something heavier, something deeper than anger. “Effective immediately, you are under my care.”

Ren’s breath caught. “Under your—? What the hell does that even mean?”

Akechi huffed, crossing his arms. “It means exactly what it sounds like. You clearly lack the discipline and self-preservation to take care of yourself properly, so I’ll do it for you.” His eye narrowed. “You will not drink yourself into oblivion anymore. You will not waste your time on empty distractions just to keep yourself from thinking. And you will, at the very least, make an effort to resemble a functioning human being.”

Ren stared at him, mouth slightly open, struggling to process the sheer audacity of what Akechi was saying. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, I absolutely can.” Akechi smirked, but it wasn’t out of amusement—it was a challenge, sharp and cutting. “Do you really think I’d let you continue like this? After seeing the pathetic excuse of a life you’ve been leading?”

Ren felt heat rise in his chest, a mix of frustration, shock, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name. “You don’t get to just walk back into my life and—”

Akechi took another step forward, invading Ren’s space entirely, and suddenly, Ren couldn’t breathe.

“Watch me.”

Ren’s heart pounded, his body tense, his mind scrambling to find some sort of retort, some way to push back. But Akechi wasn’t giving him an inch.

“You’re mine now, Amamiya,” Akechi murmured, voice lower, almost dangerous. “And I take care of what’s mine.”

Ren swallowed hard. He knew Akechi well enough to know there was no arguing with him when he was like this. No amount of reasoning, no stubborn protests would change his mind.

And for some reason, despite the sheer ridiculousness of it, despite the way his mind screamed at him to fight back, to push him away—Ren felt something he hadn’t in years.

Relief.

Akechi wasn’t leaving. Not this time.

Akechi didn’t give Ren a chance to argue. He turned on his heel, his long coat billowing slightly as he strode toward the parking lot. “Come on,” he ordered, not even checking to see if Ren would follow. “We’re leaving.”

Ren stood frozen for a second, his brain trying to catch up. “Leaving?” he echoed dumbly, his feet moving instinctively after Akechi despite the protests forming on his lips.

Akechi reached his car—a sleek, well-maintained black sedan that screamed efficiency rather than luxury—and pulled open the passenger door. “You’ll be staying with me,” he said, matter-of-fact. “As of today.”

Ren nearly tripped over his own feet. “What?”

Akechi rolled his eyes. “Did I stutter?” He gestured impatiently toward the seat. “Get in.”

Ren blinked, looking between the open car door and Akechi’s utterly unyielding expression. “You can’t just decide that—”

“I can and I have.” Akechi’s gaze was sharp as a blade, daring Ren to challenge him. “You’re clearly incapable of taking care of yourself, so now it’s my responsibility.”

Ren’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find some kind of foothold in this conversation, but Akechi was already moving on.

“We’ll stop by your apartment first,” he continued, stepping around the car to the driver’s side. “You’ll pick up Morgana and anything you need for an extended stay. And then you’re coming home with me.”

Home.

Ren clenched his fists. “Akechi, this is insane—”

“No, what’s insane is how long this has gone on.” Akechi’s voice was cool, but there was an underlying edge to it, sharp and unwavering. “You’ve been throwing yourself away, and somehow, Morgana let you. How he allowed this to happen, I don’t know, but it ends here.”

Ren bristled. “Morgana tried,” he muttered, looking away. “I didn’t listen.”

Akechi scoffed. “Of course you didn’t.” His fingers drummed impatiently against the roof of the car. “I should have expected as much. You were always stubborn. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you’ve let yourself rot for seven years.”

Ren flinched at the harshness of Akechi’s words, but he couldn’t deny them. He had let himself rot.

Akechi inhaled deeply, his voice quieter but no less firm. “I won’t allow it anymore. I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself because of me.” His visible eye darkened, his jaw tightening. “I broke you. And now, I’ll fix you.”

Ren’s breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs at Akechi’s admission, at the sheer weight behind those words.

This wasn’t just pity. This wasn’t just guilt.

This was Akechi taking responsibility—staking a claim.

Ren swallowed thickly, staring at Akechi, his mind a whirlwind of emotions, of things he didn’t have the words for.

Akechi met his gaze, unwavering. “Now get in the car, Amamiya,” he ordered. “Before I throw you in myself.”

Ren hesitated for only a second longer before sighing, rubbing his face in frustration. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

Akechi smirked. “You have no idea.”

And with that, Ren slid into the passenger seat, his pulse thrumming as Akechi shut the door behind him, sealing his fate.

Ren leaned back against the passenger seat, rubbing his temples as he muttered the directions to his apartment. Akechi followed them without a word, his grip on the wheel steady, his expression unreadable. The tension in the car was suffocating—not because of anger, but because of everything left unsaid, everything Ren knew Akechi would demand answers for soon enough.

As they pulled into the parking lot of Ren’s apartment complex, Ren let out a breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn’t want Akechi to see his place. Not like this. It wasn’t just messy—it was a reflection of himself, of how far he had let things slip.

He turned to Akechi hesitantly. “You should probably just wait down here.”

Akechi didn’t even dignify that with a response. He simply turned off the ignition, pulled the key out, and unbuckled his seatbelt in one smooth motion.

Ren groaned. “Akechi—”

Akechi opened his door. “No.”

Ren glared. “You can’t just say no to everything—”

“I can and I will.” Akechi shut the door behind him, striding toward the building like this was his home and Ren was the guest. “You clearly need supervision.”

Ren gritted his teeth, muttering a string of curses under his breath as he begrudgingly followed. Akechi was already at the stairwell, waiting for him with an impatient stare.

Much to Ren’s growing dismay, Akechi followed him all the way up to his apartment, offering no chance to shake him off. With a resigned sigh, Ren unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Akechi stepped inside—and immediately stopped.

Ren clenched his jaw, stepping in after him and hastily shutting the door behind them. “Look, it’s not that bad—”

Akechi’s visible eye swept over the apartment, and Ren could see the way his fingers twitched, as if physically restraining himself from reaching out and fixing something.

The place was in utter disarray.

Stacks of books on psychology, mental health, and philosophy littered every available surface, some opened and marked with notes, others haphazardly tossed aside. The couch was surrounded by empty beer bottles and cans, some standing in messy clusters, others simply discarded, as if Ren had been collecting them over time. A few were on the couch, kicked to the side carelessly. Clothes were strewn about, half-folded laundry mixed with ones Ren had abandoned wearing. An unfinished cup of coffee sat on the coffee table, long gone cold, its surface slightly murky from time spent untouched.

And then there was Morgana.

The poor cat had been napping in what could only be described as the least comfortable spot possible—a corner of the room, curled up on a pile of discarded hoodies, his tail flicking every so often in discomfort. The moment the door shut, his ears twitched, and his eyes blinked open groggily. He let out a small yawn before looking toward the entrance.

And froze.

“…What the hell?!” Morgana jolted upright, fur bristling in shock. “Akechi?! You’re—?!” His eyes widened comically as he scrambled off the pile of clothes. “What—?! How—?! You’re alive?!”

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose. “Morgana—”

But Morgana wasn’t listening. He jumped onto the couch (or at least, what was the couch underneath the mess), still staring at Akechi like he was seeing a ghost. “You were supposed to be dead! I—Ren and I—” He turned toward Ren, as if to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What is happening?!”

Akechi, however, didn’t immediately react to Morgana. His attention was still locked on the disaster that was Ren’s living space.

“This is unacceptable,” Akechi said flatly, his voice disturbingly calm.

Ren shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not as bad as it looks—”

Akechi turned to him with a look that could kill.

“Not as bad as it looks?” Akechi’s tone was pure disbelief. He gestured at the sheer chaos surrounding them. “Ren. There are beer cans on the couch. Your cat was napping on a pile of hoodies. And don’t even get me started on the coffee table.” His eye flicked back to the stacks of books. “Psychology? Mental health?” His gaze sharpened. “What were you even trying to do with these?”

Ren crossed his arms, scowling. “What do you think?”

Before Akechi could respond, Morgana let out an exasperated huff. “I told him to clean up!” he said, looking between the two of them. “I tried! But it’s like talking to a brick wall!” He turned to Ren, tail flicking in frustration. “You never listen to me, and I’m just a cat! What was I supposed to do? Drag you out of here myself?!”

Ren winced. “Mona—”

Akechi finally turned his attention to Morgana, crossing his arms. “Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

Morgana blinked. “Huh?”

Akechi’s voice was sharp, leaving no room for argument. “Ren is coming with me. As of immediately.”

Morgana’s tail puffed up. “Wait—what?!”

“You heard me.” Akechi shot another pointed look at Ren. “This arrangement isn’t working. He’s been left alone for far too long, and I refuse to let it continue.” His gaze flicked back to Morgana. “So pack up whatever you need. We’re leaving.”

Morgana gawked between Akechi and Ren, utterly dumbfounded. “You’re kidnapping him?!”

Ren sighed. “Mona, I think I’m too old to be kidnapped.”

Morgana whipped around to face him. “Are you seriously just going along with this?!”

Ren rubbed his face. “It’s not like I have much of a choice…”

Akechi smirked. “Correct.”

Morgana let out a long, exasperated sigh, ears flattening slightly. “Well, I can’t say I disagree with him, but—!” He turned to Akechi again, narrowing his eyes. “If you’re serious about this, you better take care of him.”

Akechi’s smirk faded, his expression hardening. “I don’t intend to let him fall back into this state ever again.”

Morgana studied him for a moment before huffing, tail flicking. “Fine. But if anything happens, I will claw your face off in your sleep.”

Akechi rolled his eye. “Duly noted.”

Ren groaned, running a hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous.”

Akechi turned to him with a smug expression. “No, Ren. This is intervention.”

Ren groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Akechi clicked his tongue. “Yes, well, perhaps if you had made any attempt at basic self-preservation, we wouldn’t be here.” He turned toward Morgana. “Get your things. We don’t have all night.”

Morgana shot Ren a wary glance, as if waiting for him to protest. But Ren, still too stunned by the sheer force of Akechi’s will, just let out a resigned sigh. “…Guess I’m packing, huh?”

Morgana frowned. “You really should be more resistant to getting kidnapped.”

Ren shot him a look. “I told you, I’m too old to be kidnapped.”

Akechi sighed. “This isn’t kidnapping, it’s saving you from yourself.” He stepped forward, picking up an empty beer can from the coffee table and turning it over with distaste. “Honestly, Ren, did you even try to clean up?”

Ren snatched the can out of his hand. “I don’t exactly get a lot of guests.”

Akechi pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I imagine you don’t. Not when your apartment looks like a crime scene of self-neglect.” He shook his head, his voice dropping in frustration. “This is worse than I thought.”

Morgana hopped down from the couch, his little body tense with concern. “I told you! I’ve been telling him! But nooo, Ren just keeps saying he’s ‘fine.’”

Ren shot the cat a glare. “Whose side are you on?”

“The side of not watching you self-destruct, obviously!” Morgana huffed. “You think I enjoy watching you stumble through life like a zombie?”

Akechi crossed his arms, watching them with a critical eye. “And yet, he let it happen,” he muttered under his breath.

Morgana bristled. “Excuse me?! Do you know how many times I tried to get him to pull himself together?! I nagged him! I lectured him! I yelled at him! I even tried hiding the alcohol! And guess what? He found it! He’s stubborn as hell!”

Akechi raised an eyebrow and turned back to Ren. “Is that true?”

Ren looked away. “…Maybe.”

Akechi exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable.” He turned on his heel. “Fine. If neither of you could handle this situation properly, then I’ll personally make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Ren shot him a deadpan look. “I really don’t like how that sounds.”

Akechi smirked, but his eye was sharp. “Too bad.” He gestured around the room. “Gather whatever you need. We’re leaving within the next twenty minutes.”

Ren stared at him. “You’re giving me a time limit?”

Akechi rolled his eye. “If I don’t, you’ll stall. And I have zero patience for that.” He gestured toward the bedroom. “Get moving.”

Ren stared at him for another long moment before shaking his head in disbelief. “…I hate you.”

Akechi’s smirk widened slightly. “Good. You’ll hate me even more when I throw out every ounce of alcohol you own.”

Ren nearly choked. “You what?”

“You heard me,” Akechi said, already moving toward the kitchen. “I’m purging this place. If you want to rot in your own filth, do it somewhere else. Not under my care.”

Morgana watched with something bordering admiration. “Wow. He’s really going for it.”

Ren groaned. “Morgana, stop enjoying this.”

Morgana flicked his tail. “Not gonna lie, I’ve waited years for someone to yell at you properly.”

Ren groaned again, rubbing his temples. “This is my actual nightmare.”

Akechi, already rummaging through the cabinets, didn’t even look up. “No, Ren. Your nightmare already happened. This is the part where I fix it.”

Ren stared at him, his heart skipping a beat at the sheer certainty in Akechi’s voice.

There was no going back now.

Ren sighed heavily as he trudged into his room, grabbing his duffel bag from the corner and tossing it onto the bed with a dull thud. He was really doing this, wasn’t he? Just getting dragged away by Akechi like some kind of lost cause.

Still, he stuffed clothes into the bag, grabbing whatever he might need for an extended stay. Shirts, hoodies, a few pairs of pants—whatever was within reach. He didn’t put much thought into it; after all, Akechi wasn’t giving him the luxury of time to be picky.

But then his eyes flicked toward the bed.

Right.

He hesitated for a moment, then knelt down, reaching beneath the frame. His fingers curled around the smooth glass of a very expensive bottle of whiskey—one he had spent an entire paycheck on months ago. It was meant for one occasion: the anniversary of Akechi’s supposed death. A ritual, in a way. A drink to drown in, to forget, to grieve properly when the weight of his absence became too much to bear.

But now… well, that plan was obviously ruined.

Still, he wasn’t about to let the damn thing go to waste.

Glancing toward the door to make sure Akechi wasn’t hovering nearby, he wrapped the bottle in a hoodie and shoved it deep into the duffel bag. He doesn’t need to know about this. It’s fine. I’ll just drink it when he’s not paying attention.

After a few more essentials—his phone charger, a couple of books, and of course, Morgana’s food—Ren zipped the bag shut, throwing the strap over his shoulder. He stepped out of his room, finding Akechi standing near the front door with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze immediately locking onto him.

“That bag looks overstuffed,” Akechi noted, his visible eye narrowing slightly.

Ren felt a small bead of sweat form at the back of his neck. “I—I just like to be prepared,” he said with a casual shrug, moving to pass him. “Let’s go.”

Akechi didn’t move. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Ren froze mid-step, lips pressing into a thin line. “…What?”

Akechi’s smirk was all too pleased, all too knowing. “You’re hiding something.”

Ren scoffed, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “Oh my god, Akechi, what do you think I’m smuggling? A body? Let’s just go.”

Akechi wasn’t convinced. He took a step forward, reaching for the bag. “Let me see it.”

Ren immediately yanked the strap tighter against his shoulder. “Absolutely not.”

That reaction alone made Akechi’s smirk widen. “That was far too defensive.”

Morgana, who had been observing the interaction with suspicious eyes, suddenly narrowed his gaze. “Wait a second…”

Ren’s expression twitched. “Mona—”

Morgana’s tail flicked. “You’re hiding alcohol, aren’t you?”

Ren stiffened. “…What? No! That’s ridiculous.”

Morgana hopped onto the coffee table, staring him down. “You totally are!”

Akechi sighed dramatically. “Of course he is. I should’ve expected this.” He extended his hand expectantly. “Hand it over.”

Ren took a step back, gripping the bag protectively. “No.”

Morgana gasped. “Ren, are you seriously smuggling booze into Akechi’s house?! After everything?!”

Ren groaned, running a hand down his face. “It’s one bottle, and it’s not for—”

Akechi cut him off. “One bottle now. And then what? You sneak drinks when I’m not looking? You find some other excuse?” His voice was sharp, laced with something dangerously close to frustration. “No, Ren. Absolutely not.”

Ren clenched his jaw. “Akechi—”

“I told you,” Akechi interrupted coldly, his eyes flashing. “I refuse to let you keep drowning yourself in alcohol just because you can’t deal with reality.”

Ren inhaled sharply, fingers tightening on the strap of his bag. That one stung.

Morgana hopped down from the table, walking toward Akechi. “I agree. We have to check the bag.”

Ren’s head snapped toward Morgana. “Whose side are you even on?!”

Morgana huffed. “The side of not watching you drink yourself into an early grave!”

Ren groaned loudly, but before he could react, Akechi reached out fast, yanking the bag straight off his shoulder.

“Akechi—!”

Akechi immediately unzipped it, digging through the contents until—

Ah. There it was.

Akechi pulled out the bottle, holding it up in the dim light. The golden liquid inside glowed faintly, the label practically screaming luxury.

Ren immediately looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “…It’s not what it looks like.”

Akechi’s brow twitched. “Not what it looks like? It looks like a very expensive bottle of whiskey that you were planning to sneak into my house.”

Morgana hopped onto the couch, staring at the bottle in disbelief. “Ren. That probably cost a fortune.”

Ren shrugged, still avoiding their gazes. “…It was supposed to be for, you know, the anniversary.” His voice was quieter now. “But clearly, that’s not happening, so I figured I’d… use it for something else.”

Akechi stared at him for a long moment, then slowly exhaled, rubbing his temple. “You are impossible.”

Morgana huffed. “So? What’s the verdict?”

Akechi twirled the bottle once, considering. Then he very deliberately turned and walked straight into the kitchen.

Ren immediately shot up. “Wait, what are you doing?”

Akechi ignored him, unscrewing the cap and—

Ren’s soul left his body.

“You wouldn’t.”

Akechi gave him a wicked smirk. And then, before Ren could react, he tilted the bottle over the sink.

Ren let out a strangled sound as the very expensive whiskey poured down the drain. “No! Akechi, you absolute—!”

Morgana gasped dramatically. “Oh my god, he actually did it.”

Akechi watched the last of the liquid swirl away, then placed the empty bottle on the counter with a satisfied nod. “There. Now, that’s one less thing to enable your habits.” He turned to Ren, his smirk downright smug. “You’re welcome.”

Ren just stared at him, mouth slightly open, hands clenched at his sides. He looked seconds away from actual murder.

Morgana, meanwhile, was absolutely thrilled. “I think I like Akechi.”

Ren let out an actual growl of frustration. “I hate both of you.”

Akechi only smirked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash with a clink. “You’re under my care now, Ren,” he said smoothly. “And that means I own your bad habits.”

Ren threw himself onto the couch, groaning loudly into the cushions. “I regret everything.”

Morgana flicked his tail. “Too bad. Now let’s get going before Akechi decides to burn your apartment down next.”

Ren groaned again. Akechi really wasn’t giving him an inch.

#original story #Ren Amamiya X Goro Akechi #Seven years post-persona #ren amamiya #goro akechi

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thatonestorywriter · 1 year ago

Text

Hey, loves! I'm back with another post! And this one's a little different; it's a preview for a story I'm making for AO3 and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Minors DNI!!

CW: Use of Alcohol, P in V, Bj's, basically sex lol

It had been years since Hecate got here, a mere sinner that fell from above. Living her last years as a gentlemen's club performer, but as soon as she tried out for stardom…She died, falling down into hell for the sins she committed, she landed in front of Vee tower. That’s where she met Vox. An overlord that had a tv for a head. Confused about where she was at first, she ran past Vox and towards a mirror in the tower where she saw what she was…She was a dark pink, blood red, and ink black splotched furred cat spider with back long snow white hair and had some sort of body part that looked like a hat that was infused with her head and had an eyeball on it that was colored with a deep pink sclera and black colored pupil. She had almond shaped eyes and permanently dilated pupils, her eyes were two different colors, one was marble blue with a white sclera, and the other was a deep purple with a red sclera, she had, in total, four arms at her sides, spider legs that were able to grow and retreat at will, and a long fluffy blood red ringed tail. The sight of herself threw herself completely off. After becoming more and more panicked, She tried to run out, but she bumped into the TV demon once again, and after exchanging pleasantries, the two of them went out for drinks. That’s how their relationship started

Hecate and Vox soon became friends.. lovers?? Whatever they were, it didn’t matter, after the day they went out for drinks, they became enamored with each other. The two obviously had feelings for each other…but for some reason they also couldn’t get along. Getting on each other's nerves, jealousy issues, possessive and obsessive behaviors from Vox but in the end both of them loved each other.

Right now they were physically fighting, for god knows what. Both of them settled down after a while. His TV head screen was cracked a bit, he was glitching. Hecate was bleeding from her forehead, her breath slowing down.

Vox walked away from her for a second then returned with two drinks. She sighed and sat down onto the couch with him. After that fight, they still both love each other, was it healthy? No. But who cares? "....You okay..?" Vox asked her, his screen was still cracked and glitching.

Hecate took her drink and downed it. “....Yeah. You?” She asked, mumbling her question.

Vox rubbed her snow white hair, which was filled with dirt and broken wood pieces and spoofed out. “Yeah..” He murmured as he also downed his drink.

The two sat in silence for a bit. It was always hard to make up after a fight. Especially when they would forget how they began in the first place. After sitting in silence for a bit, Vox felt his phone begin to buzz, looking at it he sighed.

“I..gotta get going to work.” He murmured.

Hecate nodded, not looking at him and waving him off. “Alright..see you soon..” She said flatly.

Vox kissed the top of her head and went off, leaving Hecate alone.

Hecate sighed as she put her hands on her head. She hated fighting Vox, it always led to being physical with each other, but he always knew what buttons to push, it was like he purposely wanted a fight.

Well. Two could play at that game. As Hecate got up from the couch, she tended to her wounds and brushed out her hair and fur. After fluffing herself out, she put on one of her favorite outfits that she wore to the club; a black and red miniskirt with a dark red belly tee. She tied up her back long white hair in a braid and grabbed her black thigh high boots as she grabbed her bag and began to leave the room.

As she walked down the main hall of Vee tower, she looked around, making sure she didn’t bump into him. She knew he’d be pissed if he saw her walking around like the way she was dressed. But she didn’t care, she felt like she had to get back at him for making her put up with his shit today.

As she made it to the door, she noticed one of Vox’s workers at the end of the hall.

“Shit..” She muttered.

The worker made their way to her and looked up at her. “M-Miss. Hecate should you really be going out like that? W-What if the b-boss finds out?” They asked, clearly afraid of what the consequences would be for the both of them, as Vox would tend to have violent fits if one of his workers knew Hecate was walking around looking like she did and didn’t stop her.

Hecate sighed as she rolled her eyes. “He won’t find out if you don’t tell him what you saw, y’know?”

The lesser demon looked around warily. “B-B-B-”

“But nothing, zip it! That’s all there is to it.” She said as she left Vee Tower, leaving the lesser demon to panic on his own.

XXXXXXXX

Hecate was sitting at the bar of the club she was in and was pounding back drinks. She watched the performers on stage and wasn’t too impressed. In her opinion she’s done better than any of these performers.

While pounding back drinks, an idea popped in her head as she noticed a clipboard by the bar, glancing at it, it was indeed what she thought it was. A list for those who wanted to perform in the club. Quickly sliding over to the clipboard she wrote her name down and waited until it was time…

XXXXXXXX

-At Vee Tower-

The Vee’s were having one of their many meetings for what their next project would be, each of them gave satisfactory answers. As the meeting had been adjourned, Vox went down to his security room, he usually did this after a fight with his partner just to see how her mood was currently and to see what he could do to try and slip into her good graces. Looking into his cameras that were in their room, he noticed something that was enraging..

Where the fuck is she!? Was the first thought that went through his head. Looking through the footage of his security, he saw that she had gotten herself dolled up and argued with one of his many workers before leaving. His claws dug into the armrest of his chair as he continued to watch each camera to see where she had gotten herself to.

He watched as she entered the club that was nearby and began to get even more enraged. His head twitched as he had surges of electricity running through his body. How dare she run off to party after having one measly fight with him!? Did she care that little about how he would feel!?

He immediately got up from his seat and stomped down the hall, not caring that he’d be hoarded with questions while in public, he went out to his car and began speeding down the road.

XXXXXXXX

-With Hecate-

As she watched each performer do their thing, she felt the alcohol suddenly buzzing through her body and was heating up. Once their performance was done, she was suddenly called up. Biting back a smile, she went up and began her performance.

As the upbeat song played, Hecate moved expertly around the pole that was set up on stage and slowly removed bits and pieces of her clothes.

As she climbed the pole and did an expert spin, she noticed more demons were filling up the club. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she slowly began to murmur along with the music as she danced, until she was full on singing and dancing sensually.

“...So sip, the gossip, drink ‘til you choke~” She sang as she swerved her hips around the pole and bent herself over as she used her other set of hands to run up her curves, up to her breasts and gave them a slight jiggle as she ran a hand up her face and moved her white hair out of her face as she sang.

“Sip the gossip, burn down throat~”

She soon walked down the long pathway of the stage and continued singing as she moved her hips and fluffed out her long tail.

“You’re not iconic, you are just like them all~”

As demons threw bills her way, and the heat of the alcohol began to buzz all through her body, she began to move her hips and swerve her body in an expertly way as she sang along with the song.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, oh~”

As the guitar break broke out, Hecate expertly kicked her leg up as she spun around and dipped herself down, showing off her perfectly shaped ass while she moved along to the music, causing an eruption of cheers and more bills being tossed her way.

As the song kicked up, she expertly danced her way back to the pole and spun around it as she continued singing.

“So sip the gossip, drink ‘til you choke~”

As she spun around the pole, she climbed it and wrapped her legs around it as she hung upside down, letting off her bra and tossing it in the crowd, causing a fight between the demons as they wanted to have Hecate’s clothing.

“Sip the gossip, burn down your throat~”

As she expertly flipped off the pole, she curled her tail sensually as she ran her hands down her body and swiveled her hips.

“You’re not iconic, you are just like them all~”

As the song reached its end, she expertly struck an alluring pose of kicking her leg up and spreading her spider limbs out to allow her beauty and fierceness to be enhanced.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, oh~”

As the song ended, an eruption of cheers were made as everyone tossed bills her way. After picking up her bills and walking off stage, back to the bar, her eyes became pinpricks as she felt a sharp claw and surge of electricity wave through her body.

“Had fun?”

Turning around quickly she saw Vox. his face showed that he was not happy.

“V-V-”

Vox grabbed Hecate’s arm and began dragging her out of the club roughly. After shoving her in the car, he immediately began driving back to Vee Tower.

The ride home was silent, Hecate knew she shouldn’t have done this, but she always felt stifled at home. He never let her go out on her own, he never let her have any friends, he never let her dress the way she wanted, it was always about how he looked. His image this, his image that. And Satan forbid if she had a guy friend. The second any guy looks at her, he becomes possessive over her and scares them away.

“Vox-”

“Not another word.” His voice was glitchy and loud as his eyes were completely narrowed in anger.

Hecate got the hint and stood quiet.

XXXXXXXX

-At Vee Tower-

As soon as they made it back, Vox dragged Hecate by the arm up to their room and tossed her on the bed roughly.

“V-Vox-”

“Don’t speak!” He yelled as he grabbed onto her shoulders tightly.

He let go of her shoulders and turned away from her as he tried to think of how to convey how he felt to her. He sighed as he took in a deep breath.

“You know, damn well, I don’t like it when you pull shit like this! I’ve told you time and time again to STOP performing when I’m NOT AROUND!” His voice was rising, his glitches were becoming intense, and his electricity was becoming out of control. Hecate could tell if he kept going, he would cause another blackout.

She stepped closer, trying to calm him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I am, but I just..I wanted to try and do something fun, like what I used to do. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” she said softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. But his eyes, usually a calm red and blue, were now sparking with a dangerous energy.

“Don’t give me that SHIT!” he snapped, clenching his fists as the lights around them flickered ominously.

As the two had a standoff, Vox could tell she was buzzing with alcohol, although not drunk quite yet, it still pissed him off. It was a reminder of the fact that she had disobeyed him.

Vox continued glaring at Hecate with hard eyes, meanwhile, Hecate was staring at him with slightly glazed eyes. They were going nowhere with this, what the hell else could he do to release his anger? Hecate could tell he was running out of ways to release his anger. So what was she planning on doing with him now? The same thing that she always does when he’s up to this point…

She inched up to him and pulled him in for a light kiss. Vox lightly pushed her away with a groan. “I’m not in the mood.” He said flatly.

Hecate purred and nuzzled his neck as she trailed kisses around him. “Relax, let me take care of you~” She purred as she slowly went on her knees.

Hecate rubbed her hands up Vox’s legs slowly and slowly unbuttoned his pants as she pulled them down, exposing his long hard cock. As Hecate made eye contact with Vox, he glanced away, trying to not look like he was anticipating her affections. Hecate didn’t mind though, she knew she would have his attention in a few minutes. As she let her hot breath envelop his hard cock, she watched it twitch in anticipation and teasingly licked the tip with the tip of her tongue.

Hecate could tell Vox wanted more, but she figured until he was vocal about it, she would only be teasing him. As she ran her tongue around his cock, she could taste the electrical sour blue raspberry precum that was weeping from the tip already. He must’ve been thinking about her for a while. As she let her hot breath play with the twitching cock, she could suddenly feel Vox’s hand on the back of her head, trying to push her further onto his cock. Hecate’s tail curled and swished playfully as she looked up, purring.

“Is there something you want..Sir?” She asked innocently, using that moniker he oh so loved so much during times like these.

Vox didn’t meet her eyes as he tried to push his cock into her mouth, but Hecate wasn’t having it. “I can’t help unless you talk to me~” She purred as she ran her tongue up his shaft.

Vox looked her in the eyes, he could see the desire pooling in them as she played with his cock. It immensely turned him on when she was like this. He decided to finally give in, as he lined up his cock with her lip, he gave her a demand; “Suck it.”

“Gladly~” She purred as she finally took his cock into her mouth. Vox sighed in arousal and groaned as he felt her deepthroat his cock. Slowly, he began to thrust into her mouth, Hecate began to purr as she felt him thrusting slowly.

Vox, feeling the vibrations of her purring around his cock, groaned out loud.

“Fffuck yeah, keep doing that..” He groaned out as he began to glitch a little while he thrust faster.

As Hecate continued her affections, she could feel Vox’s cock swelling, signaling he was about to cum. So she began to bob her head along with his thrusts in a rapid pace, as she locked eyes with him she could see him glitching more and more, Vox made eye contact with her in return, at least, as best as he could, and he could see hearts dancing in her blue and purple eyes. Seeing her so enamored with him or at least..the idea of sucking his cock, he couldn’t tell, caused him to go over the edge.

“Fuck!” He groaned out as he shot out ropes of his ‘love’ into her mouth, Hecate moaned as she took it all in and swallowed it all. Vox chuckled as he watched her body shudder from the effects his love had on her, usually whenever she took it in, she would feel an electrical surge as it seemed to have some sort of electrical property to it.

As Hecate got up, Vox grabbed her by her arm and pulled her in for a rough, and passionate kiss. Hecate purred as she felt his hands roaming her body. Soon, Vox pinned Hecate down on their plush bed and tore off her skirt and underwear. Hecate felt a cool breeze hit her and tried to curl up for warmth, but Vox held her legs down.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He said darkly.

As he lined up his cock up to her wet sex, he slid right in roughly and they both groaned in unison at the feeling of each other. Not giving Hecate a chance to adjust to his size, he began to rapidly thrust into her making her cry out and mew at the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight!” He groaned as he continued to pound her. Hecate moaned and whined as she felt how deep he was going, soon she began to roll her hips along with his thrusting, and gasped as she felt him going even deeper into her.

Hecate clawed at the bed with one set of her arms and clawed at Vox’s back with her other set as she was moaning and mewing. Vox groaned at the feeling of Hecate’s claws and rammed into her harder, making her arch her back and cry out loudly.

“F-Fuck! H-harder! Please!” Hecate cried out.

Vox however didn’t comply yet. “Please what?” He asked her as he pulled her hair back, exposing her neck to him.

“P-Please, Sir! Harder!” She moaned out as she felt the tugging of her hair.

Vox grinned as he trailed his tongue up her neck and did as she asked.

“That’s better, slut!” he said, demeaning her as he rammed up into her. Hecate whimpered and whined as she felt him pounding her, hearts soon danced in her blue and purple eyes as she was becoming more and more enamored with the way Vox was handling her.

As Vox kept up his pace, he could feel Hecate clenching around him. It was signaling him that she was close to orgasming. Hecate moaned his name over and over and just when she was about to, he stopped. She looked at him with misty eyes, her breathing erratic.

“W-Why’d you stop?!” She whimpered.

Vox stared down at her, his eyes held dark and ominous intentions. “Turn around.” He said with a low growl.

Hecate, not missing a beat, turned around and arched her back as she used two of her fingers to spread open her wet sex, to add to the already alluring pose she was in, she wiggled her ass a little as her tail swished and curled to try and essentially invite him in.

Vox stroked his cock, watching her wiggle her ass in anticipation as the sight turned him on immensely. Soon he took a step towards her and shoved his cock all the way down to the hilt, making her cry out loudly.

“HNG! S-So deep!” She cried out as she clawed at the bed for some kind of grounding.

Vox began to ram his cock into her deeply and roughly as he grabbed her long snow white hair and pulled it roughly, making her gasp and moan loudly.

“Fucking take it bitch” He groaned as he slapped her ass hard.

Hecate panted, gasped, and moaned as she felt how deep and hard he was going. “Fffuck, I’m so close!” She whined out.

As Vox went even harder on her, his eyes landed on her tail. Smirking to himself, he grabbed it and pulled it roughly. He groaned out loud as he felt her suddenly convulsing around his cock, and watched her shudder as she let out a loud cry, signaling that she had just orgasmed.

“F-Fuck! Damn, baby, I wonder how many times I can do that!” He exclaimed as he pulled her tail once again, making her yelp and convulse around his cock once again. He groaned as he felt her tighten around him and almost came immediately.

As Vox somehow began to go even harder, Hecate mewed and cried out as she felt his cock suddenly vibrate, he must’ve been really turned on. After all, she’s only experienced this twice in their relationship. “Fuck yeah baby, lemme hear you purr!” He groaned as he slammed his cock onto her cervix. Hecate panted and cried out as she felt his cock swelling, signaling he was ready to burst.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can feel you getting bigger! Hurry and cum inside of me! Please, sir!” She cried out as she moved along with his movements, trying to get him to finish.

Vox groaned as he felt how much deeper he was inside of her and slapped her ass hard. “So impatient for me, huh? Fine, I’ll give you what you want, you little slut!” He groaned as he picked up his pace.

Hecate mewed, panted, and cried out as she felt herself getting closer to orgasming again, meanwhile Vox was getting closer as well. He was glitching harder and harder, electricity was running through his body as he panted, and growled as his movements were becoming erratic, although they surprisingly kept a rhythm. Soon he let out one last, large thrust as he shot out his ‘love’ into her, Hecate shuddered as she cried out at the electrical feeling around her.

“FUCK!” He groaned as he finally got that perfect release, although as soon as he hit orgasm, his high was so extreme he caused a hell-wide blackout.

As Vox and Hecate were catching their breaths, Vox collapsed onto their bed as Hecate did the same. Once on the bed, he grabbed her and began to effectively spoon her. Something he rarely did. He must’ve been really satisfied with their encounter..

As the two lovers finally made peace with each other, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

#hazbin hotel vox #writing prompt #minors dni #hazbin hotel writing #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel oc x canon

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