knife prty // Geto Suguru x Reader

knife prty

A strange sound from a familiar voice catches Geto out of guard as it breaks through the music, making him lift his eyes from the clinking glasses to scan the space over the bar counter. It had been a mostly calm night at the Devilock, a rare feat he was ready to commemorate before he heard the noise. And there it was again, the angry grunting. And he was sure it was your voice.

Looking around once more, his eyes pierce through the crowd that gathered to watch the band. He doesn't need to do much looking, however, as soon he spots you, coming to sit down at a corner of the counter, quickly followed by a strange man that sits beside you. And you don't seem all that happy with the situation. Without thinking, Geto makes his way from his corner of the counter up to you. His mouth contorted into a tight, sly smile.

"Hey there, doll. My favorite patron needing anything?" His voice cuts through the music, the tightness of his smile spreading to his tone.

Geto sees your eyes lit up when he appears, but not in a way he likes. You'd often have a gleam in your eye when you approached him at the counter, but it was always a flirtatious charm. This time, it looked almost as if you had just spotted safe shelter in the middle of a storm. He didn't like it one bit.

"Hey, Suguru," you start, and Geto can feel a slight tremor in your voice, your usual cheerful tone constrained into something uncomfortable, "can you see me a co-"

"The doll here and I are gonna have a Negroni," the man cuts you off, and Geto notices the way you stiffen at his voice, causing his eye to twitch.

"I didn't say I was drinking with you," you respond, looking the man up and down before you turn back to Geto, and although you are slurring, there is clear disdain in your voice. "Just a coke."

"A coke and a Negroni then."

Geto interjects in a harsh tone before the man can say anything else. He can feel bile rising to his throat, a part of him wanting to punch the guy right now, but he knows he can't just jump on costumers. At least, not without a good reason. So he settles for the menacing tone, quickly turning to one of the fridges and grabbing a coke, turning around and pouring it for you, hardened stare set on the strange man.

You thank him quietly, and he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He can feel every fiber in his body tense, every muscle tight and on the edge. Geto tries to tell himself that he is just worried about you, as he would with any patron - wishfully trying to ignore the clear rage burning in him. But deep inside, he knows that the dread that settles in his stomach as he turns around to prepare the drink is more than normal worry.

Well, he can unpack this thought later.

"Come on, doll, you should have a drink with me. We could have some fun."

The moment Geto turns his back to the counter, he can hear the man's voice again. Disgusting. It sounds slimy and disgusting. And it settles in his spine the wrong way. His darkened eyes flicker to the mirror on the wall before him, spying on the situation to make sure the bastard doesn't cross a line. He tugs his sleeves lower out of a nervous habit, almost as if he can feel the things they are meant to hide slipping out as Geto's fist itches to find that guy's face.

It's like the loud music in the bar is almost drowned in the moment, all Geto can hear is the man's voice and the clinking of his tools as he prepares the drink. His movements are fast and almost robotic, long fingers moving at top speed. His eyes keep darting from the task at hand up to the well positioned mirror - a clever way for the bartenders to manage to keep an eye on the bar while their backs are to the counter.

"Thanks, but no," you reply, barely hiding a sneer. The man tries to put an arm around your shoulder, but you manage to avoid his touch. Utterly disgusting.