cryoculus

[cryoculus]

— happy accidents ⟢

being kindred spirits in solitude, a quiet evening away from the festivities is just what you and your good friend, diluc needed. until you accidentally fell into a lake and made your night ten times worse (read: better).

★ FEATURING; diluc x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 8.2k words

★ TAGS; friends to lovers, banter, smut ★ NOTES; this was originally commissioned by my good buddy good pal @joonie-beanie back in april last year, and i deigned to turn it into a diluc bday fic! so happy bday, resident emotionally constipated redhead, and thank you to bean for trusting me to write this for you!!

★ HEADER ART CR; nokkusu on ig

★ SMUT TAGS; lots of teasing, oral (m & f receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, aftercare, dom diluc

If someone told you that every day is a festival in Mondstadt City, you’d believe them in a heartbeat. From bards serenading passers-by in every street to the taverns welcoming patrons left and right – you had infinite choices on how to spend your Friday night. 

But as fate might have it…you’re stuck tending to a game booth in an actual, official Favonius-mandated festival instead.

You have nothing against celebrating Ludi Harpastum. It’s your favorite time of the year! It’s everyone’s favorite time of the year! But this week’s set of commissions from the Adventurer’s Guild have become more ridiculous than the last – how the hell were you assigned to escort transport balloons five days in a row?! – and honestly? You want nothing more than to go to town with your buddies for a drink or two. 

Plus, wreaking havoc at Angel’s Share with Kaeya and Rosaria was practically routine now. Having to forego the sacred tradition in favor of covering for one of your colleagues at the Guild was more of a drag than you initially expected. 

After said colleague injured his leg on a field job, he practically begged for you to take this special commission from his hands. It’s from a big-shot client, he said. He’ll nuke the Adventurer’s Guild if we turn him down, he said. Overdramatized explanation aside, you took it without that much of a fuss. 

The commission sounds simple enough on paper – the main reason why you accepted in the first place. It said all you had to do was watch over the ring toss booth near the city gates, and you’ll get seventy percent of the revenue as compensation. You’ve heard enough hearsay about how much these booths actually earn during festivals, so you agreed to watch over it for a week, tops. Maybe you could squeeze a bit more cash to splurge at the bar once everything’s said and done.

On your third night on the job though, you finally start asking yourself if this was all worth it.

“Rough day?”

You startle to see Kaeya approaching as you begrudgingly close up your booth – shooting him a puzzled stare as the cavalry captain simply grins. Like he knows you’re having more than just a ‘rough day’. 

“Didn’t I tell you how I hate taking commissions that require me to deal with people?” you grumble before tossing a sheet of cloth over the ring toss pedestal, hiding it from view. 

Kaeya chuckles. “For someone who loves buying rounds for the entire tavern once the alcohol finally sets, you’re terrible at public relations. When it comes to your job, at least.”

“Drinking and having to run around doing everyone’s weird errands are two completely different things,” you argue.

“If it’s so terrible, why don’t you just quit?”

…Damn it.  

“Anyway,” you emphasize, eye twitching with annoyance. “Where are you headed? Usually, you’d be terrorizing the people at Angel’s Share by now. And by people, I meant Diluc.”

“You flatter me!” The captain laughs again. “Well, I figured I’d flutter off to Cat’s Tail since Master Diluc’s flock of admirers tonight is a bit…stifling.”

Once you’re done securing the booth to make sure no burglars try anything funny, you flash Kaeya an unconvinced look. “Oh? Finding a group of ladies stifling instead of smooth-talking them into admiring you instead?”

“Hehe, though that’s my usual modus operandi on any other evening, what kind of fiend steals the thunder from the birthday boy?” 

That makes you pause. 

“It’s Diluc’s birthday?” 

He nods. “While he may appear holier than thou – a god amongst men – Diluc actually has a birthday! Shocking, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you huff. “I’ve been drinking with you guys for years, but he’s never celebrated it. Not even once!”

“Well, that’s probably because he’s always out there saving the world even on his special day, no?” Kaeya shakes his head with a smile. “We’re lucky enough to have him in our midst this year, but I’m afraid his suitors know that very well, too. Just when I thought I could talk him into mixing me that limited edition Dead After Noon…”

You find it a bit funny, picturing the owner of Angel’s Share dealing with a bunch of customers-slash-admirers that just want to greet him a happy birthday. If you aren’t fond of human interaction on the job, Diluc is most definitely allergic to it. But with how exhausted you are, you can’t bring yourself to give an outward reaction.

“I take it you’re not in the mood to drink until dawn at the moment?” Kaeya follows up, brows raised. “I was actually patrolling the perimeter earlier today. Children can be quite…competitive when it comes to carnival games, if I do say so myself.” 

Oh. He must’ve seen those stubborn kids who wanted to keep playing despite having no mora left to fork over. Too bad for them – you haven’t been in the most stellar of moods today, much less a generous one.

“Katheryne told me that jobs like these require the patience of a saint,” you say. “Sister Rosaria would argue that I wouldn’t gain any of that even in my next life.”

“I second that,” Kaeya hums along. “Speaking of Sister Rosaria, I believe she’s waiting for me with a mugful of ale. If you change your mind, come over to Margaret's, will you?” 

You hesitate for a moment. Spending time with these odd vision-wielders took off the day's stress better than simply sleeping it off – you know that pretty well. But you're just so sick of these tedious commissions, that you kind of want to have some time for yourself. Gods, the things you'd do just to snag a job that requires you to venture off somewhere faraway instead of where you are now...

Giving Kaeya one last apologetic look, you say: 

“Maybe next time.”

Are you really a Mondstadter if you don’t like Ludi Harpastum?

The question has been plaguing your head since your first day on the job. It’s the same question you ask yourself as you pass by the taverns and restaurants still bustling with business even this late into the evening. As the jovial noise flits through your ears, instead of being filled with the festive spirit, all you feel is annoyed. 

Things weren’t always this way, though. You wonder if you’re just frustrated about being stuck in the city for longer than usual. You’re an adventurer, for archon’s sake. Sure, accepting boring commissions was part of the job, but anyone would lose their mind if they had to keep repeating the same routine. 

Instead of heading home like you originally planned, you decide to make a quick detour.

The docks just outside the north-east gates are always empty come nightfall. More so now, with the festival in full swing. Usually, you amble by the lakeshore to clear your mind when you don’t want to rely on alcohol to do the job for you. There’s just something so…calming about the sound of water running beneath your feet, and the evening breeze blowing past your face. If you couldn’t go on riveting adventures, at least you can imagine the wind taking you somewhere else, right?

“Hm? It’s you.”

That familiar voice is enough to snap you out of your temporary haze of relaxation – blinking at your present company with a scowl.

Up ahead, you spot Diluc seated at the edge of the dock, the sleeves of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows. His fiery hair shines even under the flimsy light of the street lamp, and it takes you a moment to process that he’s actually there – a pile of stones resting on top of the folded coat right next to him. 

Was he…skipping them across the water?

“Master Diluc,” you greet him with a lopsided smile – making sure your face doesn’t betray your curiosity too much. “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, taking one of the stones before making it skip four, five times across the lake’s surface. “I thought Kaeya and Rosaria would’ve dragged you off to drink elsewhere, yet here you are.”

You shrug. “They did, but I wasn’t really in the mood.” 

“I see.”

The silence settles over the both of you once more, and you dare to stride closer. With each step, the wooden platform groans beneath your weight. You train your eyes on Diluc as you take a seat next to him – half-wondering if he minds the intrusion. From the way the man quietly resumes his past time of skipping stones, though, you think you’re in the clear.

Your legs dangle over the edge along with his. You don’t really expect him to speak. Whether it’s about today being his birthday or the so-called admirers he’s garnered at the tavern, it’s all the same. Diluc Ragnvindr isn’t one for small talk. You didn’t have to be acquainted for years to know that.

“You’re running a booth this year, aren’t you?”

…Or not.

“I didn’t think the news would reach you,” you say, not bothering to mask your surprise. “I am – against my own will, but that’s besides the point.”

He breathes a sound that suspiciously sounds like a laugh. “Still can’t say no to jobs you don’t want to take. Didn’t Rosaria already talk you out of that habit of yours?” 

“Hey, I’m not some hero-in-disguise who has the freedom to choose who I’m gonna save for the day.” You scoff. If Diluc notices the direct jab at his alter-ego, he doesn’t show it. “Work is work, whether I like it or not. Gods, I wish they would assign me on an expedition soon, though…”

He stares at you passively, weighing a stone on his gloved hand.

“What about your booth then?” 

“It’s just some stupid ring toss booth.” you explain. “Maybe if you train enough out here, you can snag the grand prize in one go.”

Diluc simpers. “Bold of you to assume I’d actually spend my mora on a rigged game.”

“Excuse you.” You’re too late to stifle the gasp that you breathe in, a semi-offended grimace framing your lips despite the fact that you hated your job. “The wooden pegs are just painted for an added…optical illusion! It’s to increase the difficulty.”

“So you admit it’s rigged?”

You click your tongue. “It’s not my fault that customers think the pegs are closer because of the aesthetic! If they really want to win a lifetime supply of sunsettias, they shouldn’t let measly handicaps like that get in the way.”

Diluc tosses another stone into the lake – this one only skips twice before sinking to the bottom.

“A lifetime supply of sunsettias,” he repeats. “That’s your grand prize?”

“Hey, if you don’t like it, then don’t play.”

Again, silence – albeit more comfortable.

Sure, you didn’t get to drink and sing along to a bard’s tunes with Kaeya and Rosaria like usual, but Diluc makes for a good substitute. Even if he practically accused you of being a fraud. When you met him years prior, you never would’ve thought you’d be able to hold a casual conversation with Mondstadt’s wine tycoon like you are now. 

As you sneak a glance from the corner of your eye, you realize that Diluc looks more disheveled than usual. Dress shirt rumpled. Red tufts coming loose from his hair tie. You can’t miss his oddly unguarded demeanor as he sits next to you even if you try, which is a surprise in and of itself, since he’s so uptight even inside his own tavern.

“...A little bird told me you had a bunch of suitors hounding you back at Angel’s Share.”

Diluc pauses for a while before casting you a perplexed stare. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re no fun.” You pout. “I’m talking about all those birthday guests trying to woo you, who else? Don’t tell me you turned them all down without giving at least one of them a chance.”

He takes on an unreadable look – one that tells you he’s ruminating about how you found out about both his birthday and those pushy patrons. In the end, Diluc decides not to ask since the answer is as clear as day anyways.

“You shouldn’t believe everything Kaeya tells you,” he tells you gruffly. “All that ever comes out of his mouth is a melodramatic version of the truth.”

“So there’s still some truth to what he said then?”

He looks like he’s trying very hard not to say something unbecoming of a gentleman to your face. “I held no such event to commemorate anything. The daughters of some shifty business partners just wanted to secure their livelihood by currying my favor is all.”

“Harsh as always,” you sigh. “What if those ladies genuinely liked you? How could you dismiss a person’s feelings as nothing but a ploy instigated by their rich fathers?”

“I personally don’t understand why everyone is more concerned about the state of my love life than I am.” He shakes his head, and – oh. He does get context clues about romance after all. “I don’t concern myself with the…attention of my patrons, because first and foremost they’re my patrons. Second, I don’t have time for trivial things like that.”

Now, that’s just sad. The man sitting right next to you has a face worth a million mora, yet he chooses to live a maidenless life. 

“Look, I know you want to focus on protecting everyone from the shadows, but you should enjoy yourself from time to time, too,” you say, feeling a bit hypocritical given the fact that you were internally bitching about the festival before you ran into him. “It’s a miracle you’re even here, and not – I don’t know. Burning some Fatui bastards on a spit-roast or something?” 

“Who ever said I’m not enjoying myself?”

You scowl at him again, already pitying him at this point, but you know Diluc won’t have any of it anyway. “Diluc. Master Diluc. Famous wine tycoon. Most renowned bachelor in all of Mondstadt – are you seriously committing yourself to being celibate for the rest of your life in the name of justice?”

He laughs almost mockingly. “If I am?”

“Well,” you start, swallowing thickly. “You’re too cool for that.”

“...I’m too cool to be celibate?”

“Yeah! Maybe if you just tried talking to one of those admirers of yours, you’ll finally get some action,” you elaborate without a shred of shame. “Clearly, there are already those who are interested – all lined up outside Angel’s Share, I bet.” 

Diluc soaks up the silence once more before letting out a real laugh – one that catches you off guard, but is a welcome surprise no less.

“You and your insinuations,” he quips, sounding more amused than vexed. “Now who’s the one who told you I’m not getting any action?”

That makes you whistle. “Oh? He who doesn’t love anything else but Mondstadt is actually getting some? Now that’s something Kaeya, Rosaria, and I are going to have a field day talking about.”

“And why is that?”

Taking a stone from his little pile, skipping it across the water like he did minutes earlier. You even burn through his whole collection until you have nothing more to throw. Diluc’s eyes don’t stray too far as he waits for your response – making you flash him a patronizing smile. 

Others would’ve probably talked smack about you teasing someone as famous and powerful as Diluc, but he’s always let you off the hook every time. That’s enough grounds to assume you’re at least a bit special, isn’t it?

“I just can’t picture you holding someone else’s hand, much more taking someone to bed,” you admit, but there’s no animosity in your voice. The words weren’t meant to tease, they’re just what you’ve generally observed about him. And you know goddamn well that a hundred other people would agree with you, too.

You wonder if Diluc is going to take that as the last straw and finally give you a piece of his mind. Sure, he’s comfortable to let you talk so boldly, but at the end of the day you’re just a regular customer at best. Maybe you shouldn’t try to emulate the way Kaeya treats him too much, just because you’re all buddy-buddy.

“Would you like to test it out then?”

The silence of the evening rings in your ears once again – the water flowing, the breeze sighing. But no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that you must’ve heard wrong, you don’t have enough alcohol in your system to make a convincing argument.

“What?” you ask dryly instead, subtly giving Diluc some leeway to change the topic.

“Hold my hand,” he tells you, and it sounds more imperative than anything else. “Don’t you want to see for yourself if I’m actually incapable of human contact?”

“Now it just sounds like you’re messing with me,” you grumble.

His mouth twitches into an amused smile for half a second before that resting bitch face settles back into place. “Are you going to do it or not?”

Now, you’ve held a great number of hands in your lifetime. Your parents’, your friends’, Master Cyrus from the Guild’s during your first promotion, and even Kaeya’s whenever the occasion calls for a drunken dance at the bar. Needless to say, you’re well-versed in the art of hand-holding.

But right now, with your fingers intertwined with Diluc’s, you feel as if someone pushed you inside Good Hunter’s outdoor stove with how hot your face feels. 

Out of all the reactions you could’ve gotten, biting the bullet is the last thing you imagined Diluc would do. He’s usually the type who just lets every bit of slander thrown at him slide – always choosing to be the bigger person without really meaning to. The man just doesn’t give a damn about what other people have to say. 

So why the hell is he holding your hand just to prove a point?

It doesn’t help that his fingers – though protected by the coarse material of his gloves – are unexpectedly warm. You have no idea why you didn’t anticipate that from a pyro user, but –

“See?” Diluc says coolly, red eyes staring out into the lake. “I can hold someone else’s hand.” 

“That wasn’t the point I was trying to make.”

He turns to you with a miffed look. “What, do you want to test if I know how to hug, too?” 

You could’ve used that chance to make the situation slip back into familiar territory. Diluc wasn’t much of a talker, so most of the conversations you had with him in the past consisted of you ranting about anything under the sun while he quietly listened to your plight. All you had to do was downplay…whatever this was and go back to talking nonsense like usual. 

And yet… 

“Fine.”

This time, you’re the one who initiates the contact – shifting your weight across the dock before pulling him into a wordless embrace. You feel Diluc stiffen, obviously unused to this degree of affection. But his strong arms eventually coil around your shoulders, and you feel your heart pick up the pace.

Two unsuspecting adults hugging by the shore of Cider Lake. Nothing is weird about this at all.

You half-expected him to pull away once he’s proved that he was most definitely not the emotionless excuse of a man everyone thinks he is. But you remain locked in Diluc’s embrace for more than two minutes, and you’re starting to become more and more aware of a lot of things. 

First is his hair. It feels somewhat…fluffy from where the skin of your arms comes into contact with it. Then comes the scent of his clothes. You catch the faintest scent of booze on the fabric, and it’s probably from all the hours he’s spent behind the bar. 

Last is…how firmly he’s holding on to you.

You would’ve boasted about how you got to hug Kaeya’s brother when the captain can’t even get in close proximity without getting an earful from Diluc. Affection has never been the staple between the two of them, it seems. All this time, you thought it was because Diluc is the kind of man who can’t freely give that out to just anyone. But when he heaves a deep, deep sigh and buries his face in the crook of your neck, you wonder how he managed to conceal this side of him for so long.

Is he actually harboring some problems deep down? He’s so mysterious and reserved that hardly anyone can tell if Diluc’s in a good mood or not. Still, despite not being entirely sure, you pat his back in soothing motions – hoping to give him some respite.

He probably needs this hug more than he let on.

It feels like lifetimes later, but the two of you manage to pull away eventually. When you do, though, Diluc is still too close for comfort. Close enough that you can clearly make out the curve of his lips – slightly parted as he sucks in a deep breath. 

You’ve always been aware of how handsome this man actually is, despite the fact that he shoots down every single person who tries to hit him up. But getting up close and personal like this gives you an even deeper understanding of why people are vying for Diluc’s attention in the first place.

“Do you want to test out one more thing?” you whisper, not quite sure where your courage is even coming from.

The moment the words leave your lips, you worry that the message won’t translate well. Would he even get what you’re trying to insinuate? If he does, would Diluc even agree to it? You’re a pretty laid-back person, but you don’t think your pride can take it if he flat out rejects you right then and there.

Though it seems like the gods are on your side when Diluc leans forward without uttering a single word – capturing your lips in a chaste kiss.

Your mind is blank for the entirety of it, given that it’s a bit difficult to process the fact that you’re kissing one of the most untouchable men in the city. There’s nothing special about the way Diluc kisses you right now. He just meshes your mouths together firmly together – no teeth, no tongue. But the feel of Diluc pressing you against him alone is enough to drive your body into a fever pitch.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, shoulders heaving with bated breath.

“How was that?” he asks breathlessly.

At that point you don’t even think anymore. You lace your arms behind his head before diving in for another kiss – prying his lips apart with your tongue before threading your fingers through his hair. An animalistic noise rumbles low in his chest, making a full shiver skid across the length of your spine. Diluc holds your face with one hand, while his free arm coils around your waist in a near-possessive fashion. Once a shuddering moan slips past your lips, his grip tightens even more. 

You only disengage when you feel like your lungs are about to burst – so lightheaded that you’re momentarily entranced by the red of his eyes. A trail of saliva even connects your lips, and Diluc stares at you with such a heated look that  you hide your face in embarrassment.

That is not how people with no game kiss at all!

“Sorry,” he rasps, yet he sounds anything but apologetic. “I got carried away –”

“You think?” you laugh, palms gripping his shoulders as you muster the courage to look him in the eye again. “Remind me to never cross you like that again?”

To your surprise, Diluc doesn’t miss a beat. “Very well. Only if you let me do one more thing.”

“...What’s that?”

You barely stifle the yelp that escapes you as Diluc maneuvers you onto his lap – a continuous mantra of what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck ringing inside your head. He stares at you with a semi-amused look, and even if the kisses you shared made you all hot and bothered, you still have the decency to feel embarrassed.

“If you drop me, I’m not going to talk to you for a month,” you hiss.

Diluc breathes in a soft laugh, and you tense up as you feel him massaging the curve of your thighs through your skirt. You know you should probably stand up and just walk the hell away, but when he nuzzles your neck with his nose, you’re too weak to refuse him.

How did things end up like this? One moment, you were teasing him like usual, and now Diluc is having his way with you. His mouth slots so perfectly against yours – swallowing each sound that climbs up your throat before groping your ass. Even through his gloves, you can feel the heat of his fingers, making you unintentionally roll your hips as Diluc devours your lips.

You’re fully aware that, even if everyone else is celebrating Ludi Harpastum to its fullest, you can’t let him whisk your consciousness away. Some poor Favonius guard might spot you sprawled across the lap of none other than Diluc Ragnvindr himself, and both your reputations could be done for. But still, you find solace in the fact that some of the crates stacked nearby are enough to conceal this unlikely tryst from prying eyes.

Kaeya wouldn’t believe it if you told him. Rosaria would bet that you simply had a fever dream. But when Diluc trails his mouth across the cut of your jaw – teeth grazing your skin until he finds your skittering pulse – you surrender yourself to the reality that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

He hasn’t even done anything yet, yet you’re already aching. Diluc leaves bright red marks along the column of your throat, and despite your constant heed for appearances, you let him do as he pleases. 

Something hot and hard prods your middle as you shift your weight. He takes a sharp breath, blood red eyes shining with lust and impatience alike. When you realize that you just got the most coveted man in Mondstadt to pop a boner, you can’t help the hint of smugness that paints your features.

However, your triumph is fleeting. Because even if both of you have long descended into a haze of debauchery, you’re still high-strung. The moment you hear a loud crash somewhere nearby, you violently jerk away from Diluc – failing to realize that there’s nothing behind you but a body of water. 

Despite himself, Diluc is taken by surprise by your knee-jerk reaction, too, and he can only watch in befuddlement as gravity hooks you in with a backward force. 

You’ve always wondered what swimming in Cider Lake feels like. A lot of kids dived into the nearer shores during summer, but the temperature tonight is absolutely not fit for a late night dip. Once you break through the surface, you gasp out loud – completely soaked as the wind mocks you with a soft but chilly breeze.

This is fine. You know how to swim. You’re just going to ignore a certain redheaded liquor tycoon for not being quick enough to catch you, but it’s all good.

Diluc doesn’t exactly feel the same way, though.

Faster than you can voice out your complaints, he kicks off his boots and dives into the lake – splashing water all over your already damp face.

Is this how the people he saves feel about his unsolicited help? Archons, the Dark Knight Hero can be so goddamn unaware –

“Are you alright?”

Diluc wraps his arms around your shoulders swimming closer to the shore until you find your footing again. Amidst his breathlessness, you find traces of concern in his voice. When you dare to look at him again, Diluc’s brows are creased together as he fusses over you, and you can hardly believe the two of you were just making out in the open two minutes ago.

He frowns when you let out the ugliest laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I just feel like this is the culmination of my shitty week,” you admit with a sheepish smile, wringing out your hair as the heat he’d aroused from your body dissipates with the cold air. “But hey, at least I got to know you in...ways better than anyone else. How about we head back before one of the guards spots us, yeah?”

You thought Diluc was going to be reasonable and agree. It’s not like the two of you can just bring back the atmosphere you unintentionally shattered. Best case scenario, you’ll both walk away like nothing happened, and take this secret to the grave. 

But when you realize that his eyes are transfixed on your chest – blouse suddenly see-through from the splash – your face heats up several degrees higher. 

Gods, who needs dignity anyway?

Surprisingly, he doesn’t resist when you grab him by the collar of his equally wet dress shirt, meeting him in another sloppy kiss. It’s like nothing ever occurred to interrupt the both of you. Diluc snakes a strong arm around your frame, pressing you against his rigid body. When his gloved hand finds its way to your cheek, you nearly whimper. 

You’d be an idiot to let a chance like this slip away, right?

“On second thought…” you whisper against his lips – trembling with anticipation under his ravenous gaze.

“You’ve got a spare room back at Angel’s Share, don’t you?”

Slipping past the knights stationed at the north-east gate is a bit difficult when you and Diluc are soaked from head to toe. Even if his coat is draped across your shoulders, it’s not enough to hide the fact that you both definitely took a swim one way or another. It’s a good thing that younger ones who know about Diluc’s history with the Knights are smart enough to pretend they didn’t see as the two of you make your way back to the tavern. 

You have to admit, though, Diluc is very…impatient.

The man can’t last ten seconds without trying to feel you up – groping your tits, leaving small hickeys on your neck, and even sneaking a kiss or two. You would’ve laughed at how desperate he’s being with you right now, if only you weren’t as horny and pent-up as he is.

“Down, boy,” you breathe. “We’re almost there.”

Angel’s Share is already closed by the time you finally arrive, which must be at the birthday boy’s behest. Speaking of which, Diluc rummages around the pockets of his coat – the one you’re still wearing – cussing under his breath when he doesn’t immediately find the keys to the back. But when he manages to grant both of you entry, Diluc pulls you inside, shuts the door and slams you against the solid surface.

It shouldn’t feel so fucking good, how rough he’s being with you. Diluc tosses his coat to the side, practically ripping off the buttons of your blouse as he reclaims your lips. With the newfound privacy, you allow yourself to be a bit bolder – inching your thighs apart to accommodate the man in front of you. 

“For someone so celibate, you’re pretty pent-up, aren’t you?” 

He hums at your words, making you throw your head back with a moan as he massages your breasts. When Diluc laughs, you feel your chest flutter at the sound of it.

“You have no idea.”

The trip to the second floor takes longer than you’d otherwise like. Things would’ve progressed more swiftly if Diluc didn’t keep pressing you against every piece of furniture in the bar – leaving you with less and less clothing as you drew closer to the spare room. By the time you’re standing in front of it, you’re left with nothing but a flimsy bra and your soaked panties – something that Diluc obviously enjoys seeing. 

In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s tried to ravage other women like this in the past. Did he strew their clothes around his own tavern, too? Did he exhibit the same, raw desire that he has for you now? 

You decide that it doesn’t matter in the end. After all, today is Diluc’s birthday. 

What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t give him a present he won’t forget?

When the bedroom door clicks shut, you’re quick to sink to your knees – taking Diluc by surprise as you fumble around with his belt. The erection straining against his wet trousers makes your mouth water, and despite his protests, you haul out his cock without a word. The length is impressive enough to have you squirming, and just imagining how his thick girth will spread you open makes you even more impatient.

But before that, you’d like to do a little something for him first.

“What are you – nghh!” 

Diluc tilts his head back when you take him into your mouth, lathering his length with saliva as you stare up at him the whole time. His face is flushed as he struggles to peel off his gloves, attempting to pull you off his cock, though the effort is weak.

Oh, what a sight to see: Diluc Ragnvindr’s stoic façade, torn asunder by a blowjob.

Though that’s as far as your teasing goes.

The moment you pry your lips off him for a breather, Diluc leans down to hoist you into his arms – an unnecessary display of strength, but one that sends a rush of heat straight to your cunt. He’s pissed. You can tell from the stiff set of his jaw, and how little heed he has for your comfort as he tosses you onto the bed.

You shoot him a scowl as he strips the rest of his clothing. “Hey, I wasn’t –”

“You’re starting to become more and more cocky, aren’t you?” Diluc shakes his head, freeing his damp hair from that flimsy tie as the red tresses fall across his shoulders. “I let you do as you please for a while, and suddenly you think you’re the one who’s calling the shots? Hmph.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this before – like some master chastising a disobedient pet. It doesn’t help that you’re given a generous view of his toned chest, marred with scars you’ll probably never know the stories behind. You want nothing more than to reach out and kiss every single one, but when you try to move, Diluc quickly pins your wrists against the bed – restricting your movement in more ways than one.

You’re stunned into silence as Diluc continues lecturing you. The words, however, are lost in the haze of your own arousal – nerves set alight as he trails his lips down your thigh. He teases you with these fleeting sensations until he’s up close and personal with your clothed cunt, red eyes boring deeply into yours.

“You need to stop provoking me if you don’t want to get burned.”

He allows you a moment of reprieve when he drags the fabric of your underwear off your legs – tossing it somewhere behind him as he marvels at the sight of your bare pussy. You’re wet and waiting for him, just like he wanted.

Diluc doesn’t waste any time, doing a few experimental licks across your slit as he quietly observes you. It fills him with a sick sense of pride when you have adorably sharp reactions each time his tongue makes a pass over your clit – fingers threading through his hair as you bite down a moan. 

He laps up your essence like a man starved before easing a finger into the tight ring of your cunt, and you sandwich his head between your thighs as he loosens you up. It’s hard to think about anything else apart from the skillful licks of Diluc’s tongue. When he teases your weeping entrance with the tip of his appendage, you let out an embarrassingly lewd sound.

You hear him chuckle. “See? Isn’t this better?”

When he manages to slide two fingers inside you, he curls the digits just so, making you keen his name as your toes curl with pleasure. Diluc is relentless; not giving you any space to breathe as he eats you out. He’s loosening you up real good, and you can only imagine what’s yet to come when he frays your overstimulated nerves.

That coil in your gut is wound up so tight, you fear like you’ll explode. As your heavy pants fill the room, you give your lover a few telltale signs that you’re close. The grip you have on his hair is more fervent, and you even roll your hips to meet his tongue. You feel like such a vixen, defiling Diluc’s face like this, but from the way he vigorously responds to your desperation, you’re fairly certain he just wants to get you off as much as you do.

Diluc teases the beginnings of your g-spot with each curl of his fingers, and every time he does, your eyes roll to the back of your head. How the fuck did he learn to eat pussy like that?!

But when you’re finally tethered across the edge of climax, he stops.

“Why…?” you half-sob, bemoaning the loss of his heat as Diluc untangles himself from your thighs. He smirks, lips still slick with your juices.

“Open,” he orders before leaning forward, prodding your lips with the fingers he’d buried inside your pussy not five seconds earlier. To his delight, you’re all-too willing to comply, tasting yourself on his skin as you lather your tongue around his thick digits. Diluc meets your wanton reaction with an amused sigh. He’s gotten quite lucky tonight.

“Good girl,” he whispers, and you feel your cunt throb at the praise.

He sinks into the mattress with you when he takes those fingers out of your mouth – replacing them with his lips as he meets you in another fervent kiss. A strong hand rests on the curve of your waist, possessively tugging you close to leave no inch of space between you. Despite the tangy aftertaste on his lips, you welcome him all the same.

When he slides his hard length between your thighs, you don’t even flinch – letting Diluc tease your folds with the head of his cock. With that little edging stint he pulled, you’re very much aching and desperate to have your pussy stuffed to the brim.

“Diluc,” you mewl, sighing against his lips. “Want you…inside.”

He growls, reaching behind you to finally unclasp your bra – the last piece of clothing you had. Diluc practically nuzzles his face into your breasts as he angles his hips, biting down hard once his cock breaches your entrance. A broken moan slips past your lips as you take every inch of him, and you nearly sob once he finally bottoms out.

His forehead rests against yours as he catches his breath, and you nearly lose it from the feel of his dick pulsating inside you. Everything feels so hot, it’s like you’ll melt from his touch alone.

“Not so celibate now, are we?” he says, and you would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t stretching your pussy so goddamn good. 

Diluc snaps his hips sharply, catching you off-guard before setting a steadier pace. His dick rubs against the velvet walls of your cunt as he leaves even more marks along the curve of your tits. He even presses one of your legs against your chest to introduce a better angle, and tears quite literally dot your lashes when the head of his cock brushes your cervix. 

He’s so big inside you, prying your pussy open with each drag of his length. Even if you want nothing more than to wrap your legs around his waist to bring him closer, Diluc is adamant about keeping you in place – both thighs pressed against your breasts as he pounds you into the mattress.

You’ve never had sex that felt as mind-shattering as Diluc’s. You didn’t even know it was possible to be this wet for someone. The lewd squelch of flesh ringing in your ears is a testament to that. Archons, if you knew Diluc could dick you down this good, you would’ve jumped him ages ago.

“Turn around. Hands and knees.”

It’s so pathetic, how you blindly follow him as if you’ve traded in your autonomy to be his cocksleeve. You whimper when you feel Diluc take out his dick, but silently comply with his orders – getting down on all fours on the bed as you stare at him in anticipation.

He breathes out a long-winded sigh, large, warm hands smoothing across the swell of your ass before hiking up your waist, making you shiver with delight. 

“Who would’ve known this body can take my dick so well?” Diluc chuckles, and you feel the head of his cock gliding along your slit once more. Obviously, the question is rhetorical, because before you can even slip in some underhanded remark, he’s already slipping himself back into your aching pussy – hitting you in places that have you struggling to prop yourself up.

“D-Diluc, I –” Your words are cut off by a moan as he forces you back down on the mattress – chest pressed against the bed as he continues to mount your ass. 

“So good for me,” he praises, fingers wound around the nape of your neck. “You’ve got such a lewd cunt. Did you always want me to claim you like this?” 

Of all the discoveries you’ve made tonight, the fact that Diluc is actually capable of talking so filthily might’ve made it on the top of your list. He whispered the words in your ear in such a tantalizing manner, you unintentionally clamp around his length – making him groan as each pass he makes in your cunt suddenly became tighter. 

“Yes,” you gasp when he makes a particularly deep thrust. “Yes, yes, please. Diluc, I-I want it.”

Diluc leans closer, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth as he relentlessly moves his hips in time with yours. “What an honest girl. You deserve a little reward, don’t you think?”

Faster than you can blink, Diluc flips you onto your back once again – not giving you any time to breathe as he fills you up again. He wastes no time easing you into a mating press, and you can barely utter out the syllables of his name as he drives his length into you over, and over again. The heat in the pit of your stomach threatens to boil over, along with the goosebumps that erupt across your flesh. Closer, closer – you can almost taste it.

You end up coming with starbursts exploding behind your eyelids, and Diluc muffles the high-pitched keen of his name with a kiss. He rides out your orgasm – despite your spasming walls doing little in helping him keep it together. But when his own climax finally crests, he pulls out just in time, painting your breasts, your stomach, and your thighs with his white-hot release.

He marvels at the sight of you – blissed out with his cum staining your tits. Will the gods ever forgive him if this’ll be the same picture he thinks of during the lonelier nights he has out there?

Unless…

It takes you a while to anchor yourself back to reality and regain the feeling in your legs. You could’ve sworn you’d passed out for a moment, but the feeling of something soft being dabbed across your skin rouses your consciousness even just a bit.

That’s when you realize Diluc is wiping his own emission off your body.

“Can’t have you sleeping all gross like that,” he grumbles as he disposes of the cotton towel he got from gods-know-where in a basket sitting in the corner. “Unless you want me to prepare a bath for you?”

You smile at him sleepily, grabbing his face to give him a long, sweet kiss.

“Happy birthday,” you giggle. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again at all.”

Diluc tenses for a fraction of a second, but it completely goes over your head – still buzzed from the intensity of the orgasm he just gave you. As you tug him under the sheets, he figures that you might be too tired for a bath, and admittedly, he’s a bit drained too.

You get the feeling that Diluc is skirting around a question he wants to ask – red eyes darting with uncharacteristic uncertainty before shying away when you try to meet his gaze. You’re no body language expert, but you know a curious man when you see it.

“Got anything else to say to me?” you ask.

He swallows thickly, a slight redness dusting the high of his cheekbones. Yet another first for you – seeing Diluc Ragnvindr blush like a preteen.

“You were talking about wanting to go on expeditions instead of tending to boring commissions, weren’t you?” he starts, wrapping a muscular arm around your waist. You nod. “How about you come with me? I’m headed to Sumeru in a few days because there’s someone I need to track down.”

Now that definitely wakes you up. 

Seeing Diluc become a beast in the bedroom is one thing, but hearing him invite you to travel with him is another story. Sex and companionship are two very different things. You can have sex without completely trusting the person you’re with, but…constant companionship for his travels? He could’ve proposed to you and it would’ve meant the same thing!

That, or you just have such a skewed view of romance that you might be reading his offer wrong. 

“I-I’ll think about it,” you tell him instead – not wanting to make the situation awkward because of your own assumptions. “If I’m going with you, then I might have to file a pretty long vacation leave.”

He simpers. “Who said it’s for vacation? I’m commissioning you for your expertise as an adventurer, you know? Don’t sell yourself short.”

Well, now you’re not very sure if you should feel flattered or offended.

“Hey, wise guy, I can so go on adventures without the incentive of a reward.” You scowl. “You think I’m only in the Adventurer’s Guild for the money?” 

Diluc nods. “A week ago, you drunkenly proclaimed to the whole bar how much you loved the Guild because of the good pay. Even if your jobs are such a chore, you’ll let them exploit you as they please.”

…Note to self: stop spouting off nonsense when Diluc is there to remember every word.

“So you’re going to exploit me next?” you deflect with your pride all chinked up. It’s just so hard to get the last word with this guy!

“Well –”

Your quarreling is interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door groaning on its hinges. To your horror, the intruder comes in the form of two people. One is Kaeya, who’s drunk out of his wits as he shifts his weight onto his poor companion. Said companion just happens to be Rosaria, who gapes at the sight of you and Diluc both conspicuously naked under the sheets.

Oh, fuck.

Rosaria soundlessly moves her lips for a moment, like she can’t quite find the words until Kaeya mumbles something under his breath and leans against the doorframe. 

“Hey, how about you go sleep at my place tonight, big guy?” She pats his shoulder, keen eyes shying away from the spectacle in front of her. “Master Diluc might just castrate you if he finds out you’re crashing in his spare room again.”

Kaeya gives her a sleepy smile. “Oh? Trying to make a move on me, are you?”

“You know I’m allergic to penises, asshole. Come on.”

When she successfully hauls the oblivious cavalry captain out of the room, Rosaria flashes you a knowing smirk – mouthing the words: you owe me one before shutting the door behind her.

Then, the silence.

You don’t know if it’s proper to laugh, when two of your closest friends quite literally walked in on you in the midst of your pillow-talk (pillow-argument?) with Diluc. Even if only one of them was remotely aware of what was going on, that doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Diluc sighs, carding his fingers through his hair before padding over to the door to put the lock in place. When he returns to your side, he pulls you in a tight embrace that you can’t help but return.

“If you come with me, I promise…” he begins – and the husky undertone his voice takes on makes you shiver, “that the next time I get you mounted on my cock, it’s somewhere we won’t get interrupted by anyone else.”

When he peppers your neck with a trail of fiery kisses, you realize that Diluc Ragnvindr is playing with such unfair stakes. How the hell can you say no to that?

When the vigor in the both of you finally wanes, you doze off next to him in the afterglow. It feels comfortable, resting in the middle of Diluc’s strong embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest is enough to lull you into slumber, and you find it somewhat amusing to know that this all started because of a harmless conversation at the docks.

Ludi Harpastum really is your favorite time of the year, after all.

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 07 ⟢

question: if someone likes you, are you required to like them back?

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 6.1k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, thoma, kamisato ayato, kamisato ayaka, yoimiya

★ HEADER ART CR; mors_gn on twitter

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

Kamisato Ayato isn’t a fan of routine.

He likes it best when he gets to do different things everyday; when he isn’t confined in a limbo of tasks he needs to accomplish by the time his subordinates are out of the office. Alas, it's the job of the Yashiro Commissioner to subject himself to things he finds horribly tedious. But for the sake of his family, he’ll grin and bear it.

Today, however, while Ayato is busy admiring the decorative greenery in his office, the stagnant waters of his day-to-day life are disturbed by unexpected ripples on the surface. 

One of his men—a private investigator who gives him intel about Inazuma’s elite—steps inside with a grim look. He makes it swift; tells him that an organization whose name Ayato never thought would come up again has been on the move. The Commissioner doesn’t need to hear anything more. He already had the hunch that this is exactly how the way things were going to turn out. All his personal Sherlock did is confirm his suspicions.

Once the investigator sees himself out, Ayato leans back on his swiveling seat, head tilted upward as he contemplates whether or not he should do anything about it. It seems that turning a blind eye to stirring trouble is quite the trend among the other members of the Tri-Commission. But of course, he was never one to operate by the book. 

Ayato makes a rather strange call that afternoon—the first tinge of color in the monotone of his daily routine. He patiently waits as the person he’s contacting answers the phone. The man in question probably has no idea how his contact details have reached the Commissioner’s address book, but surely he’ll spare Ayato some degree of mystery, right?

It isn’t often that he personally takes matters into his own hands. His younger sister is much better at negotiating relations with other parties. But this case in particular—Ayato finds quite concerning. When the Yashiro Commission needs to reach out to someone who’s long left the service of the Kamisato clan—a man that Ayato used to look up to—it’s only proper for him to see it through himself.

A woman answers the phone; one with a sweet and lovely voice. His wife.

“Good day, Takahashi-san,” Ayato greets kindly. “It’s Ayato. Do you remember me?”

She pauses. Ayato can picture her hesitation. “Ranpo is um…not here at the moment. You might have to call some other time, Kamisato-san.”

“Is that so?” he drawls. “Does later in the evening work for him? Of course, I’m willing to wait longer if need be. I just want a word with your husband is all.”

“I—”

The woman’s voice is cut off by the sound of static and rustling. Ayato can vaguely make out the fragments of a conversation, but the words are too far away for him to catch. Though, when the telephone’s receiver is in place again, it’s a man that speaks to him instead.

“Didn’t we agree not to contact each other anymore?” Ranpo speaks gruffly. “What do you want?”

“My, cutting to the chase like always,” the Commissioner laughs. “That’s what Father liked most about you as a leader, you know? But I could’ve sworn you used to be much friendlier…”

“Ayato, I don’t have time for all this nonsense. Please, just get to the point.”

Hearing his old mentor’s voice again, Ayato nearly lets himself fall prey to that deceptive feeling called nostalgia. He’s an adult man with his own career ahead of him, but he’s susceptible to memories of the past just as much as the next guy. He sighs, a sad smile rooting itself on his face as he honors Ranpo’s request.

“Here I thought we’d be able to rekindle our bond as master and student.”

“Those days are far behind us now, and you know that.”

Ayato hums. “Are you certain?”

“...What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re already aware that I became the head of the Yashiro Commission after my father passed away. This means I get to know things that I otherwise would have remained ignorant about,” he begins. “The Tri-Commission is in charge of keeping things in order around Inazuma—be it commerce, the state of affairs, border control, or the welfare of the people.”

The Commissioner reaches out for a silver coin on his desk—an antique that Ayaka had given to him courtesy of a scholar from Sumeru. He fidgets with it quietly in his free hand. 

“You served my father—our family—for nearly a decade, so I’m also sure that you already know all of this. But I’d like to remind you of another task that the Tri-Commission is saddled with; one that rarely ever reaches the citizens’ ears.”

Ranpo makes a disgruntled noise. “Does this have something to do with the underground?”

“Always so quick on the uptake. That’s Ranpo-dono for you,” Ayato praises. “But yes. The Tri-Commission has been keeping tabs on the underground like usual. We allow them to conduct independent operations while making sure they don’t overstep the boundaries we’ve set. Though said boundaries have become easier to bend now that the Tenryou Commission’s influence is rapidly growing. You know how crooked those people can be.”

“Ayato. The point?”

The Commissioner pouts. “What an impatient old man you are… Anyway, as for the point: a little bird informed me that the Shuumatsuban has been revived, and that the organization is pledging loyalty to the yakuza.”

It takes Ranpo a while to respond, and Ayato can almost see the look on his face—surprise, horror, and concern melding into one. “You think I’m the one behind that?” he asks.

“Oh, not at all,” Ayato insists. “After you so graciously abandoned us back then, I figured that a father who loves his family—his real family—more than anything else wouldn’t be foolish enough to get his hands dirty again.”

Silence hangs heavy on the line that connects them, and the Commissioner almost feels sorry for unintentionally guilt-tripping his old master. Ayato himself doesn’t resent him for what he did back then. After all, mentoring a bunch of brats like them was simply forced onto Ranpo’s plate at the time. He probably wasn’t even paid extra for that. 

“What I’m saying is,” Ayato starts again, more to pick the conversation back up than anything else, “there’s someone who’s using the name of the Shuumatsuban to get in the good graces of the yakuza. The reason still eludes me, but the person stirring up this old pot is someone that only you can talk some sense into.”

Despite all the years that passed, Ayato knows. He knows he doesn’t have to give any more hints, to spare any more details for Ranpo to realize who he was talking about. It’s a deep-seated understanding of the other’s thoughts that Ayato is glad hasn’t eroded with time. 

“Itto again, huh?” he whispers. “You know what? My kid mentioned him the last time they came over. Thought I’d just brush it off like usual, but this is starting to become interesting.”

Ayato smiles. “Did you say you’d beat Itto to a pulp if he ever came near them? Just like the way you did when you found out their college best friend is my sister, of all people?”

“It ain’t up to me to meddle with my kid’s relationships. They’d just yell at me if I stopped ‘em from being friends with Ayaka just because you’re her brother. And now that brat Itto comes into the picture while he’s caught up in something bad?” Ranpo sighs. “You’re all growing up too goddamn fast, you know that?”

The Commissioner sets the antique coin he was fidgeting with back on its wooden stand, glimmering under the lights of his office. Then, he spares Ranpo a laugh emphasized with just a touch of longing.

“I know.”

The moment you wake up on the morning of Valentine’s Day, you decide to fry some scrambled eggs.

While that obviously isn’t the most groundbreaking breakfast choice, you usually just make yourself a coffee, grab a slice of toast, before heading downstairs to open up shop. Why you’re suddenly taking it easy and spoiling yourself with actual, substantial meal is beyond you, but you’re in no rush anyways. 

You clean up after the utensils you used in a chipper mood, humming a tune you can’t get out of your head. Right after, you’re quick to pour some food into Mikan’s bowl by the counter before calling out to her. She wasn’t in bed with you when you woke up, but that isn’t something unusual anyways.

Your tabby announces her presence with a meow as she emerges from the stairwell—giving you the idea that Mikan probably went down hours before. But when she happily helps herself to her own breakfast, you decide to let it slide.

The shop doesn’t open for at least thirty more minutes, and while you feel the urgency of the romantic occasion looming inside your head, you feel awfully relaxed. Must be because of that jasmine tea you shared with Itto last night before he left. 

Speaking of Itto…

When you check your phone, you realize that he actually left a couple of messages early in the day—like, three in the morning-early. This makes you grimace. Why’d he text you at such an ungodly hour? You should really make it a habit to check your phone after waking up. 

gardening slave [03:34]: hey master im waiting outside but its kinda cold so could you hurry up 

gardening slave [03:40]: you said youd be awake by 3 so we can accommodate deliveries or whatevs… did you oversleep

gardening slave [03:40]: you did, didnt you????

gardening slave [03:45]: mikan came down to greet me unlike SOME people. oh and she climbed out of a window to give me the keys to the front door what a smart cat

The realization dawns on you a few moments too late, and you seize into a panic. Fuck. Your deliveries were scheduled at four in the morning, and you forgot . You don’t even bother reading the rest of Itto’s other texts. Instead, you make your way straight to the shop. You’ve never rushed down the stairwell in your life faster than you did at that moment, but you’re not really about to pat yourself on the back.

However, once you finally get to check things out…the tension in your shoulders ebbs away. 

Somewhere near the display window, large plastic vases filled with a variety of flowers sit underneath the morning sun outside. Hibiscus, pearlbells, silkpods, and even those imported roses that you had to pay a hefty sum just to get your hands on—they’re all lined up neatly for outside viewing. The shelves have also been replenished with new pots and other gardening paraphernalia that customers liked to purchase on the side. And in the flower arrangement section, you notice that your organizer is freshly stocked with baby’s breath and wrapping paper—those of which come with a variety of colors and patterns. 

A wobbly smile makes itself on your face, heart warming at the thought that Itto managed to put things in order even without your guidance. That guy’s seriously full of surprises sometimes.

“Hello?”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you ask the moment Itto picks up his phone. “I would’ve appreciated it if I got to account for the deliveries myself you know?”

He laughs. “You don’t sound all that upset about it to me, master. ‘Sides, you looked real pooped yesterday, so I thought I’d let you sleep in.”

“I did. Actually, I woke up in a pretty good mood,” you admit, leaning against the counter as you examine Itto the Fourth’s jar. The cocoon doesn’t look like it’s going to break anytime soon, though. “Thanks for…taking care of all that.”

“Haha! I never thought I’d see the day you’ll be thanking me from the bottom of your heart.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m a heartless person?”

“I insinuated no such thing~” 

“Whatever. So when are you going to time in for work?”

There’s a pause in the conversation—one that makes you arch an eyebrow. “I texted you I wasn’t going to time in today. Right before I left.”

“Oh. Well, when I read your text about you breaking and entering I kind of panicked and went down to the shop without reading the rest.” 

“Hey! It’s not breaking and entering if one of the residents willingly hands me the keys to the front door,” Itto huffs. “Mikan deems me trustworthy and you should, too!”

Huh. Now that you think about it, Itto did say it was Mikan who brought him the keys to his motorcycle the day you took him in as an apprentice. How the heck did your cat learn how to give keys to strangers? (Well, Itto isn’t a stranger at this point, but you really hoped she wouldn’t pull the same shit with an actual burglar.)

“Alright, alright. You’re going on a playdate with your yakuza friends, aren’t you?” A sulking noise rumbled in your chest. “You went on and on about coming to work everyday because it’s almost Valentine’s Day, and when the day itself is finally here, you chicken out?”

“Hehe, are you mad?”

You don’t like how it sounds like he’s teasing you.

“Just take care, okay?”

“You know I’ll manage, and if I don’t, I have you to patch me up, right?” 

“Itto, I run a flower shop, not a lying-in clinic.”

He laughs aloud on the other line, and your prior irritation is so quick to dissipate at the sound that you can hardly believe it. “Fine, fine. You got any other plans today? Aside from enabling the love stories of your patrons?”

“Hmm…” You take a moment to think about it. Other plans, huh…? “Well, back in college, Thoma, Ayaka, and I used to come over at one of our apartments for movie night. What’s better than letting your single ass spend Valentine’s Day with your best friends?”

To your surprise, Itto doesn’t immediately whip out some half-thought comment about your yearly tradition. He’s quiet for a while, and he only speaks up when you call out his name.

“Thoma… Isn’t he the guy I told you has a thing for you?” he asks. 

“Yes, and I told you you’re being delusional!” Lie. You were beginning to suspect the same thing, too, but Itto doesn’t have to know that. “We’re supposed to hang out with Ayato this weekend, so I’m not sure if they’ll make plans for movie night this year. But if we do, I am going to prove to you that Thoma and I are purely platonic! Ayaka’s the one he likes, got that?”

“Master, I gotta be real with you, but it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me.”

“Shut up! Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

“Haha! You’re right on the money with that one. Well, I gotta go.” Itto sighs, and you catch the hint of a strain in his usually cheery voice. “I’ll text you if I’m being dragged to my imminent doom?”

You snort. “So you admit that you can be dragged to your imminent doom? Not so tough now, huh, Arataki “The Pride of Oni” Itto?”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You can almost see him rolling his eyes. “Oh, master. One more thing.” 

“What is it?” 

This time, you can picture him smiling brightly when he says:

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Despite the line of customers waiting outside, you take a bit longer to open up shop. Is it because you kept fumbling with the things you’re holding because of Itto’s final greeting? Goddammit. When did it become so easy for him to invoke such strange reactions from you?

Well, maybe you can afford to think about it some other time. For now…

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” you apologize as you swing the door open with a smile. “Welcome to Hanamizaka Flower Studio. How can I help you?”

“God, I’m never working alone on Valentine’s Day ever again.”

Thoma replies with a stifled laugh as he takes out the popcorn from your microwave before dumping its contents into a bowl. “Wasn’t that Arataki guy part-timing here or something? I would’ve helped out but waka asked me to sort some important documents.”

You sigh, placing a bottle of soda onto the counter. “Itto’s got something else to deal with, so I had to work alone. But it’s fine. I was expecting the influx of customers today anyways.”

Now that the day was over, you closed up shop and sent a couple of messages to your group chat, asking Ayaka and Thoma if they were down for movie night like usual. Ayaka told you she was just revising an old course module and that she’ll head right over, whereas Thoma was already waiting for the invite from the get-go. He wasted no time making his way to your apartment right after work, bringing two bags of junk food that Ayaka wouldn’t be caught dead eating under normal circumstances. Valentine’s Day was just that special to the three of you. 

“So what are we watching?” Thoma asks, snatching the remote from the coffee table as he browses through the movie streaming app on your TV. “I heard there’s this pretty awesome horror movie that came out just recently. But I don’t think Ayaka has grown any fond of those since we were in college.”

You nod as you plop yourself on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn resting on the throw pillow on your lap. “Ayaka and horror movies? No. How about we watch something action-packed? She gets pretty fired up when she watches those.”

“As much as I’d like to honor her tastes, don’t you think you should be the one to pick the movie?” 

You shoot him a puzzled look. “Why me?”

“Well, for one, this is the first time we’re having movie night at your new place,” Thoma says before settling himself beside you. “And it’s to celebrate the success of your Valentine’s Day sales. I’m sure you’ve raked enough profit to last you for the next six months.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you reply, throwing some popcorn at him. “I mean, sure, today’s revenue was sky high, but it’s not that big! My shop’s still pretty new, so don’t give me too much credit, wise guy.”

He chuckles before tossing the pieces of popcorn into his mouth. “Alright, alright. So what movie are we going with? Ayaka texted me about five minutes ago that her driver’s already taking her to Hanamizaka.”

“Hm… Okay, what about Don’t Look Down?”

Thoma presses a few buttons on the remote before selecting the preview screen for the film you suggested. “Oh, this one’s the movie that waka mentioned to me a few days ago. I thought it was just a normal disaster film, but he told me it was actually dissentive in nature.”

“Like a big fuck you to the Raiden Shogun or something?” you snort.

“Yeah, and how she never looks down to see the people of Inazuma for what they actually are,” he sighs. “But everyone knows that’s old news. It’s not like Her Excellency is going to pay this movie any mind either.”

You nod. “You can say that again. She looks like someone who spends twelve hours a day meditating in a quiet room or something.”

The two of you share the same bout of laughter as you watch the trailer—making you feel at ease with the fact that things really haven’t changed between you and Thoma despite Itto’s persistent assumptions. Yeah. Someone who’s this comfortable in your company couldn’t possibly be in love with you, right?

Given that Ayaka is yet to arrive, you and Thoma eventually decide to browse other movies and do bad critiques of the ones you’ve already seen. The two of you were no film geeks, but you’ve seen enough of those with your friends to develop some sort of standard. Action movies were your usual go-to, so you and Thoma spent about thirty minutes on deciding which action star has the worst catchphrase. 

But just when the popcorn is starting to grow cold, you hear your phone buzz on the coffee table—the screen lighting up with a text notification.

Ayaka [21:40]: Hi! I’m sorry :( Something came up and I won’t be able to make it

Ayaka [21:40]: I’ll make sure to compensate during our outing with nii-sama this weekend. Sorry again!

Thoma, having read the message over your shoulder, sighs. “Man, we’ve been canceling on each other left and right, huh?”

“Now I’m starting to feel guilty,” you sigh, kicking your legs up on the table as you sink further into the cushions. “Next thing we know, you’re the one who’s going to be doing rain checks.” 

“Hehe. I’ll never pass up on a chance to hang out with you.”

His words ring in your ears even as Thoma starts talking about watching a movie suited for light watching instead. You wonder if he meant you, as in you as a single, individual person or you, as in you and Ayaka collectively. Gods, you never even thought about this stuff that much before Itto went ahead and ran his mouth. If your brain malfunctions because of excessive overthinking, you’re going to pin the blame solely on him.

The two of you end up watching some classic, animated film that’s all the rage these days. Studio Watatsumi movies came out years before you were even born, but you guess that the classics have their own charm to them.

But…even if you try to focus on the movie on-screen, you can’t help but let your eyes drift to Thoma every now and again. ‘Ignorance is bliss’ is definitely the best adage you’ve ever heard in your life because there’s nothing worse than being painfully cognizant of the things around you. Thoma isn’t even doing nor saying anything, but you can’t help but anticipate a confession out of nowhere. 

This is the ideal situation for it, right? The two of you chilling in your apartment, watching a cutesy movie—the perfect set-up for coming clean about your feelings for someone! But Thoma never gives away any sign of a pre-meditated confession. He even laughs at something funny happening with the characters before he finally catches you staring.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asks, one hand instinctively reaching towards his cheek.

“Ah, no, no.” You turn your gaze back to the TV, visibly flustered. “I just thought it’s been a while since we actually hung out like this. I kinda missed it.”

“I missed it, too.”

It takes you a moment to muster up the courage and meet his gaze. Thoma grins at you cheekily in a way you’ve never seen him do so in the past. But before you can ask him why he’s smiling at you like that, you realize that you’ve run out of popcorn.

“Oh, shit. I ate them all,” you laugh awkwardly, scrambling back to your feet. “I’ll just make some more, alright?”

“Sure.”

Once you’ve made it to the kitchen and you’ve shoved a bag of premade popcorn into the microwave, you stare at your reflection disdainfully on the translucent door. 

What the fuck are you doing?! you internally screech. Why are you acting like you’re the one with the secret crush on him? At this rate, he’s going to get the wrong idea, dumbass!

You’ve been acting so jittery around him that you’re starting to feel embarrassed for yourself. Thoma is acting the way he always does during these movie nights, and you’re getting flustered because of the stuff you’re making up in your head. If only Ayaka were here to balance things out. You’re sure that her calming presence is enough to ease your frayed nerves.

By the time the microwave chimes, you’ve probably bitten your nails down to the beds. You sigh, retrieving a kitchen mitt from the rack before taking out the popcorn. 

Just chill out, you tell yourself as you pad back to the living room. There’s nothing weird about two friends watching a movie together alone. Nothing weird at all.

You’re surprised to see Mikan rubbing herself around Thoma’s legs on the floor. That tabby has been missing in action since she finished her dinner, and now that Thoma was here, she suddenly shows up? You’re starting to think that Mikan is more affectionate towards men. Talk about being a slave to the patriarchy.

But just when you’re about to return to your seat, Mikan suddenly prances right in front of you. Obviously, you don’t want to accidentally step on your cat despite her obvious favoritism, so you clumsily step over her without any regard for balance—making you lose your footing. 

“Dammit, Mikan—!”

Before you can land on top of Thoma on the couch, he quickly shoots back up to his feet and catches you—an arm secured around your waist as he holds up the bowl of popcorn with his free hand. You can vaguely hear the dialogue of the characters from the film, but all you can focus on is the little distance between yours and Thoma’s faces. 

And how…weird this all feels.  

“Are you okay?” he wonders. “You’ve been out of it since I arrived. We can always reschedule if you need to rest, you know.”

He’s so…sweet. Thoma has always been a sweet guy. It made the number of admirers he had back in college all the more justified. He was kind, caring, hardworking, and isn’t bound by the standards society has set for men these days. Anyone who knew Thoma well enough knows that out of you, him, and Ayaka, he’s the one who’d make the best housewife. You even remember the term malewife being tossed around in your circle to describe him, much to Thoma’s embarrassment. The last six years you’ve spent alongside him were proof enough of how much of a good partner he’ll probably be.

But no matter how much you convince yourself that liking this guy back is a good thing—calm down he hasn’t even confessed!—you just…can’t. 

When you hear someone ringing the doorbell downstairs, that’s your cue to snap out of it. You immediately slink out of Thoma’s grasp, thanking him for the save before setting down the bowl and heading down to the shop. You assume for a moment that Ayaka must’ve done a rain check on her rain check and actually decided to show up. 

Of course, he had to be the one to prove you wrong.

“Hey, master!” Itto beams the moment you open the door. “What’s up?”

Oh my fucking archons.

“Itto” you greet through gritted teeth. “Your timing couldn’t have been more impeccable.”

“Right? My boys tell me that I have a perfect sense of timing,” he boasts, glancing over your shoulder as he whistles. “Wow. Seems like you really sold out today, huh? That’s my master for ya. By the way, how’s Itto the Fourth? I haven’t had the time to check up on him lately.”

“He’s—he’s alright,” you manage, swallowing the lump in your throat. “What are you doing here, by the way?”

“Oh, me? Well, I assumed that your movie night wasn’t set in stone yet, so I thought I could take you out on a late night ride on my bike or something,” he chuckles, and you can slightly make out the redness that rises on his face. “Or dinner. If that’s what you prefer. Thought you’d wanna celebrate your big hit of a selling day. We can also hit the town for some drinks, too.” 

When Thoma held you in such close proximity five minutes earlier, you couldn’t muster up any special feelings about it. But right now, Itto isn’t even touching you but from the way that a surge of heat rushes to your cheeks, he might as well have. The thought of him making his way to your place after…whatever dealings he had with the yakuza, asking you out on a (maybe-it’s-not-actually-a) date? You hate how you’re suddenly feeling so over the moon about it.

But…the thought that Thoma is still watching a movie upstairs, waiting for you to come back makes you hesitate. Movie night was set in stone. You’re the one who planned it. What kind of asshole would that make you if you just left Thoma and canoodled with your apprentice under the light of the moon? 

“Hey, who’s at the door?” 

You nearly jump out of your own skin at the sound of Thoma’s voice. When you whip your head around, you see him descending down the staircase with Mikan in his arms—peering curiously from where he stands.

“Ah, it’s just Itto!” you explain sheepishly. “He just stopped by to ask how the shop was doing.”

Turning back to Itto, you’re about to follow that up with a preemptive Right, Itto? but the bright grin he was wearing when he showed up at your door is nowhere in sight. Instead, his stark red irises dart between you and Thoma as he presses his lips into a thin line. 

“Yeah, I was just…checking in,” he laughs uneasily, scratching the back of his head. “Master over here told me about your yearly movie night. Guess you three are having fun?”

“Oh, Ayaka wasn’t able to make it so it’s just the two of us,” Thoma explains, and suddenly you want to throw a flower vase at his head. “But you can join us if you want to.”

Holy fuck. Did he really just ask that to Arataki Itto, of all people? That’s something one would normally ask others if you actually didn’t want them to join the fray. But Itto is the kind of person who ignores all sorts of context clues and would happily accept the offer. The idea of having to sit in between these two very different men while watching a Studio Watatsumi movie is going to give you nightmares.

But still, Itto continues to surprise you yet again.

“Nah, I can’t possibly ruin your tradition,” your apprentice laughs. “I know we, ah, kind of got on the wrong foot the first time we met. But you’re important to my master, so I gotta learn how to respect that.”

Important to his…?! This damn guy is only throwing gasoline all over the flames of misunderstanding that you’ve initially set yourself. Many are the times you wished that Itto would just shut his goddamn mouth, but now you pray that the gods will finally heed your request.

“Oh, that’s—that’s cool, man. I’m over it,” Thoma chuckles. 

“Great. Uh, I’ll be leaving now I guess.”

You don’t like how Itto has such a pained look on his face when he says that. Like you’ve built up his hopes only to make them come toppling to the ground. In your defense, his invitation was pretty abrupt, and it’s almost eleven o’clock anyways. No normal person would make last-minute plans this late. But your feelings about the way Itto does things has always been strange. Even if you know you shouldn’t feel guilty for having to turn him down, it still festers in your heart like a rotting wound.

“Itto!” 

He’s already halfway to the curb when you call out his name. When he turns around, it pains you to see the hopeful glint in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Too bad you’re too much of a coward.

“You’re going to time in tomorrow like usual, right?” you ask. 

Itto doesn’t let it show on his face, but his shoulders visibly sag either way. “Of course.”

Thoma told you beforehand that he’ll be waiting upstairs, and you responded that you’ll be there in a minute. But that isn’t entirely true. As Itto walks further and further away, you stay rooted by the doorframe until his figure finally disappears from sight. Until you’re alone with that feeling that you did something horribly wrong, even if you never did. Until you find yourself quietly apologizing for sins you didn’t even commit.

When Itto gets back to the spot where he parked his motorcycle, he pulls out an unwrapped lollipop from his pocket. He’d rather much have a cigarette right now, but he likes to imagine you scolding him for trying to kill his lungs or something. You haven’t really policed him for that habit he picked up, but it won’t kill him to daydream.

Fuck. You just turned him down, and he’s still thinking about you?

“Must be something wrong with my head again,” he sighs, popping the candy into his mouth as he pockets the wrapper. 

Instead of hopping on his bike and making his way back home, though, Itto decides to idle by your neighborhood just a bit longer. He opens the trunk of his motorcycle, where he secretly stashed a bouquet he bought right before he made the trip to your apartment. He didn’t think he could get to that other flower shop in the city in time, given those goons from the yakuza were getting a kick out of today’s set of orders, but Itto pulled through.

He bought you flowers from another shop because buying some from yours before giving them back as a gift is kind of weird. Itto initially thought of putting together a bouquet for you himself with the materials he received from your suppliers this morning. But he knows you’ll never let him hear the end of it if you found out he tried arranging flowers before you can even teach him. 

The plastic crinkles in his grasp when he takes it out of the trunk. Itto stares at the bright yellow sunflowers in his hands. The store owner told him that these symbolize admiration in the language of flowers—something that you’re also yet to teach him, despite the many weeks he’s been working at your shop. Because that’s how Itto genuinely feels for you—a strong sense of admiration for someone who survives off her own hard work and effort. He used to think that taking care of plants is a waste of time but…

Every time you serve customers with such a cheery disposition, every time you randomly blurt out some obscure fact about some flower he can’t be assed to spell out loud, Itto finds himself drawn further into your orbit. Like a lone planet that tirelessly circles the sun.

Is this a weird way to feel about your master? Yes. Does the fact that they’re the kid of your old master make it worse? Absolutely.

Itto knew the moment Shinobu handed him the identification papers of the building’s newest tenant that you were Takahashi Ranpo’s child. He did a pretty good job at keeping his old connections with your old man under wraps, and you never started asking questions about it either. But as the days pass by, the more complicated his feelings start to become.

He can’t get distracted. His time with you at the shop is just temporary. He still has something bigger to deal with—a score to settle with an old friend.

Besides, even if Itto was finally out of the picture, you still have Thoma. 

The sound of laughter snaps him out of it. Itto looks around curiously, and quickly sees two women walking by the sidewalk in front of your apartment. The first one, Itto recognizes as your neighbor, Yoimiya. She stops by the shop from time to time to buy succulents, and pay Mikan visits. It seems that your cat has gotten more people attached to her than one would usually think. The second one is…  

Wait a minute. 

Isn’t that Ayaka? 

Itto quietly stuffs the bouquet back in the trunk—forgoing all thoughts of disposing of it for now—as he tries to act completely natural. He doesn’t know why Ayaka is with Yoimiya at such a late hour when she apparently canceled her plans to join you and Thoma for movie night. Growing up, he was quite the gossip monger, so he can’t help but hover along in the sidelines to see things unfold. 

He pretends to check out his motorcycle as he watches them from the corner of his eye. They’re too far away for him to make sense of their conversation. But a few moments later, a tinted black car pulls up across the street right in front of Yoimiya’s place. 

And then Ayaka leans forward to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“What the fuck?” Itto mutters to himself before Ayaka gets inside the car—leaving him with no answers to his million mora question.

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 08 ⟢

making plans when you already have plans is a different kind of stupid

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, kaedehara kazuha

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

“Is everything alright?”

This is the first thing Kazuha says after a long bout of silence inside the shop. You startle a bit at his question, fumbling with the bouquet in your arms as you hand it to him carefully.

“What do you mean?” you ask nervously. 

He sighs as he cradles the flowers you arranged for your parents rather precariously. The thing about Kazuha that most couriers don’t have is his keen senses. He knows that your bouquets should be handled with utmost care even without you saying it out loud. So when things between you and a certain Arataki Itto go for a bit of an awkward turn, it’s no surprise that Kazuha takes notice of that, too.

“Hmm,” your delivery boy hums, just a touch amused as he glances at Itto, who’s preoccupied with watering the plants outside. “I just thought you and Arataki-san were a lot closer. When I came in earlier, the air was thick enough to cut through with a knife. Pardon me for asking, but did you get in a fight with him, perhaps?”

“Uhh…”

Well, to be fair, you don’t know the answer to that either. Itto came to work just like he said he would last night, but it’s as if the two of you suddenly regressed back into strangers. He doesn’t crack his stupid jokes anymore; doesn’t ask strange questions about the plants and flowers you’ve put up on display or when Itto the Fourth is gonna crawl out of his body bag. In fact, it’s almost like he’s avoiding you. 

“So this one’s addressed to the Takahashi residence.” Kazuha thankfully diverts the topic back to your courier request, reading the form off his phone. “A late Valentine’s gift?”

“Yeah, I can’t really make the trip back home because things have been a bit hectic,” you sigh. “My dad always forgets to buy my mom flowers, but he kind of gets sulky if she gets presents from me and he doesn’t. Hence, the two-in-one bouquet.”

“Your father is quite the character then,” he laughs before confirming your request with a single tap. “Mmm, I might just be speaking off the top of my head right now, but maybe Arataki-san is the same way.”

You shoot him a puzzled look. “Pardon?”

“I think he’s the type of person who won’t tell you they’re upset, yet will visibly send you that exact message without saying a word.” Kazuha smiles as he pockets his phone. “I’m not one to give unsolicited advice, but since you’re one of my regulars, I’m sort of inclined to help you out.”

“Kazuha, I gotta be honest with you, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He breathes out a soft laugh, and you get the inkling that you’ve missed out on something that’s been staring at you in the face all this time. 

“To put it simply, Arataki-san might also have the tendency to sulk—much like your father,” Kazuha tells you point-blank when he’s halfway to the door. “Because of what? Well, only you have the answer to that.” And then he’s off, leaving you more dumbfounded than when he first stepped inside the shop. 

Itto? Sulking? For a moment, you wonder if he’s upset that you couldn’t say yes to his impromptu invitation the night prior. But…it’s really not like him to let trivial stuff like that get to his head. 

Then again, Haru did tell you that your assistant has a heart that’s bigger than his own body. You glance at Itto through the clear glass windows, chest twisting at the fact that he doesn’t have that usually chipper smile put up. Guilt starts to eat at you from the inside-out. Should you have told him to reschedule instead of subtly turning him down like you did? But it’s not like you’re his girlfriend or anything. Why should it be a big deal?

“Mrow.”

Mikan seems to glare at you from her perch on the high shelves—as if judging your inability to make a decision right then and there. You sigh. Yep. You won’t get anything done if you beat around the bush like this. 

“Itto?”

He glances at you curiously when you step out of the shop, twisting the faucet mounted on the wall outside to stop the water from flowing from the hose. “What’s up?”

His tone of voice is just like the usual, but you’ve been around this guy long enough to gauge whether the conversation is going to be uncomfortable or not. From the way Itto is steadily avoiding your gaze, you think that’s exactly where the two of you are headed. 

Arataki-san might also have the tendency to sulk.

“Do you want to hang out in the city with me tonight?”

You ask him as casually as you can, tucking your hands behind your back as you pretend to survey the plants he was watering just now. Though you’re a bit surprised to see that Itto hasn’t damaged any of the leaves. His first time handling the spray nozzle was a nightmare at best, and you find it kind of endearing that he’s slowly learning his way around the shop. First it was inventory, and now this? 

He doesn’t deserve to be turned down at all. 

“I’m…sorry?” Itto drawls. “Did I hear you right, master?”

Suddenly, you feel a rush of heat crawl up to your cheeks. “Yeah. We couldn’t celebrate last night, so I thought you might want to celebrate yesterday’s sales later instead.”

He meets your explanation with astonished silence—like he can’t quite come to terms with what he’s being told. This incites a bad feeling that maybe Itto didn’t want to spend time with you anymore. That his interest to do so was merely confined to the previous evening, and that he’d already let it go. But when that adorably stupid smile makes its way back home on his lips, you feel your heart do somersaults in your ribcage.

“I’d love to,” he says, and you don’t miss the way his voice trembles with excitement. “So what’s it gonna be? A late night cruise on my bike? Dinner by candle light? I can’t foot the bill just yet by the way. Or do we go drinking? Which I also do not have the sufficient funds for.”

You roll your eyes, but the ditzy smile on your face persists anyways. “If you told me I was the one paying when you invited me last night, I would’ve slammed the door in your face.”

Itto grins, bracing both hands on his hips as he puffs out his chest proudly. “It’s a good thing you’re the one who asked me out this time around, eh? I’ve got the most thoughtful master in Hanamizaka! Oh, hey there~”

Your conversation is duly interrupted by Mikan’s sudden appearance—your tabby curling herself around Itto’s legs affectionately. He wastes no time picking her up and cradling her in his arms, and despite the fact that you should be exasperated, all you feel is relief. The awkward tension that’s been dragging since Itto timed in disappeared just like that, thanks to Kazuha’s 'unsolicited' advice. Maybe you’ll tip him extra once he delivers the flowers to your parents. 

“How about we just hang out at Amakane Square or something? One of our regulars told me there’s a cultural festival happening for two weeks over there,” you propose before tentatively adding, “Plus, I’m not getting on your bike until you renew your driver’s license, mister.”

“Aw, come on! You’ve sampled my driving skills, right?” Itto pouts as he tickles Mikan’s nose. “If you’re not dead or in a coma, that should be fine.”

You scowl at him. “No?! Itto, just because neither of us are in the hospital, doesn’t mean that’s the golden standard for driving. So if you want me to hop on your motorcycle, you need to show me that updated license. Got that?”

“Keh. So demanding… But fine.”

In the middle of your friendly banter, Yoimiya ends up passing by the shop on her way to the city. She greets both you and Itto with a warm smile and gives Mikan a few pats on the head. But even if you’re more than happy to see your next-door neighbor cozying up to your cat, you notice that Itto has gone stock-still—staring at Yoimiya like he knows something you don’t. The look doesn’t last long, though, because once your blonde neighbor is out of sight, he suddenly reverts back to that whimsical side of him. 

“So...we’re hanging out once you close up shop, yeah?” he asks cheerfully, and you can’t help but sigh in defeat.

It was business as usual from there. You and Itto receive your patrons with a much livelier atmosphere as opposed to this morning. And once that window of downtime where there are no customers to entertain, he asks about the hydrangeas you both planted a few days ago.

“Oh, the couple that takes care of that plot of land keeps me posted,” you tell him as you sit on the swiveling seat behind the counter. “The seeds were already budding the last time they checked. Hm, now that I think about it, I should really head over there and take a look myself.” 

Itto raises an eyebrow. “You want me to come with?”

“No, I need someone to watch over the shop while I’m gone,” you sigh. “You can handle flower arranging, right?”

“I don’t know if you just forgot, but you haven’t taught me that yet.”

“Eh? Aren’t you supposed to be Arataki “The All-Knowing Genius” Itto? Can’t you learn just by watching me do it?”

“Hey, that isn’t one of my titles at all, and you know it!” 

“Hehe. Come on, I’ll teach you the basics before I go.”

And that’s how you end up at your work table—showing Itto how to put together a simple sweet flower bouquet as he quietly watches your handiwork. You tell him that he should still have an eye for aesthetics while knowing how to manage the available materials.

“Real flowers wilt faster than you think, so it’s actually okay to put more of them into one bouquet—especially when you know they’re nearing the end of their lifespan,” you explain, trimming small stems of honeysuckle before fitting them into the sprig of flowers. “Splurging a little with your resources is fine, but remember that you have to make bouquets for other orders, too.”

Once you’ve added a couple of baby’s breath into the mix, you fold the two flaps of scented wrapping paper over the front—securing it with a small strip of tape before pulling out a large sheet of plastic underneath your work table. You make it a point to store those inside the wide drawer of your desk for easy access. And once you manage to wrap it securely around the bouquet, you fix the entire thing in place with another strip of tape. Now all that’s left is—

“Ribbons?”

Your eyes widen slightly when you see Itto holding up a roll of ribbon he probably plucked out of your organizer. It has an iridescent gold finish that complements both the flowers and the wrapping paper you chose. You can’t help the proud smile that arises on your face.

“For a gang leader, you sure have an eye for flower arrangement,” you chuckle, receiving the ribbon from his grasp as you take the end and twist it around the bouquet. “I should really start paying you, shouldn’t I?”

Itto lets out a soft, throaty laugh. There’s an unreadable look on his face when you glance at him curiously. You can’t really tell what he’s thinking, but from the lopsided grin that curls on his lips, you can at least assure yourself that he’s pleased with what you’re showing him.

“This might sound a little cheesy to you, but getting to know about all this cool stuff’s all the pay I need, master,” he admits. 

You always wondered if you’ll ever get used to seeing this big hunk of a man in your shop’s uniform apron. But now, he’s admitting that he’s genuinely interested in your craft? Is he trying to butter you up or something? 

In spite of yourself, you clear your throat awkwardly—ignoring the way your face burns at his words. “I-I mean, I should start paying you so you can start treating me out for meals for a change. You can’t freeload off your employer forever, Itto.”

“But isn’t giving me a salary the same thing as you treating me to dinner?”

“Yeah, but if you treat me with that money, I’ll consider it as a return of investment.”

“...Master, now that I think about it, you can be kind of evil sometimes.”

Subtle discussions about exploitative labor aside, you lift up the bouquet with a triumphant grin as you show Itto your work. “Ta-da! It’s that easy. And since you surprisingly have a knack for the stuff I teach you, I’m sure you can handle our clients’ orders on your own. If someone requests something ridiculous though, just tell them to wait until I get… Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re used to seeing Itto beaming like the goofball he is from time to time, but this grin is a bit…different. The corners of his mouth are lifted just a tad, but his eyes crinkle with their own little smiles—gazing at you so fondly, you almost don’t recognize him. It’s a look you never thought you’d ever receive from someone like Itto, and the fact of the matter makes your face heat up again. 

“S’nothing,” he insists with a soft laugh, taking the bouquet from your hands as he takes a closer look. “You’re really good at what you do, aren’t you?”

There he goes again—saying things that fluster you with a face as smooth as butter.

Before you make the mistake of giving a name to the strange feeling coagulating inside your chest, you offer him one, two awkward nods as you step out of your work space. “Thanks. Um, I’ll head over to Konda Village now. You think you can hold down the fort while I’m gone?”

“Shinobu told me this building has insurance anyway.”

“...That’s not very reassuring.” 

“Hehe. Say hi to Haru for me if you ever drop by his shop.”

“Will do.”

Once you gather all your stuff from your apartment, you bid Itto a quick farewell in the shop. He’s already striking up some small talk with a customer that came in while you were getting ready, yet he still returns your greeting with a cheery smile. You take that as your sign to head outside. But as you wait by the corner avenue to flag down a taxi, you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something. 

No matter how much you rack your mind about it, your thoughts just won’t connect—your brain apparently still hung up with Itto’s praise from earlier. 

You wonder what’s got your head so wrapped up about everything he does these days. First, you nearly melted out of glee when he dropped by last night, offering to take you out. And now, you managed to patch up whatever misunderstanding festered between the two of you in record time! You kind of feared that, worst case scenario: the two of you were never going to work things out and that he’d quit on you without so much as an explanation. 

But… Itto readily accepted your invite to hang out like it was as easy as breathing. In fact it’s almost like he was waiting for you to do so, too. 

You wonder if he thought anything about you having movie night alone with Thoma—the same guy he claimed has the hots for you. That’s something that still doesn’t make a whole lot of sense because you spent the entire evening in his company without anything weird happening. Your best friend simply finished the movie with you before heading home half past midnight. Was Itto just saying things to get a rise out of you back then?

So deep in thought, you jolt in surprise when you feel a solid shoulder collide with yours. You scowl, knowing damn well that the sidewalk is wide enough for at least four people to walk in, yet this guy chose to bump into you on purpose. 

“Excuse me,” you bark out sarcastically—eyeing the stranger wearing a dark black jacket with the hood pulled up. You intend to leave it at that, since you have more pressing matters to attend to, but when the rude passer-by turns around to face you, your face contorts with confusion.

The first thing that people probably notice about Itto are the red markings all over his body. At first, you thought they were tattoos, but after some intervention from Haru, you decide to play along with the idea that they’re a symbol of his oni heritage. The man who bumped into you has similar ones on his face, but as opposed to the angry red of Itto’s markings, the ones that curve around the high of his cheekbones are a cool, translucent blue. 

He doesn’t say anything. He merely glares at you with icy blue eyes before continuing in the direction he was headed.

“Hey, you need a taxi?!” 

A cab pulls by the curb as the driver asks you with a questioning look. You sigh, opting to brush off that weird encounter in exchange of hopping in the backseat of the car. 

“Konda Village please,” you tell the driver, settling into your seat before pulling out your phone. He nods at you from the rear-view mirror, and then you’re off into the bustling traffic of Hanamizaka.

But even if your prior unease was already dispelled, a short text message from Ayato is all it takes for it to come rushing back.

Ayato [13:56]: Don’t forget, you promised to hang out with us later :) Amakane Square is a good venue this time of year, so we’ll see you there at six!

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 05 ⟢

i have a very marketable skill called “jumping to conclusions”

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.6k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, thoma, kamisato ayato, kamisato ayaka

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

“I can’t believe I wasn’t here when he did the thing. What kind of father am I?!”

You’re in the middle of shaping the bonsai you have on display when Itto sulks behind the counter—chin propped on top as he watches the silk white cocoon inside Itto the Fourth’s jar. You roll your eyes.

“Well, if you spent your precious time being here for his milestones in life instead of canoodling with the yakuza…”

“Nope! You are not guilt-tripping me out of this, master!”

“Wasn’t counting on it,” you scoff.

So, as things might have it, after placing your late-night order at Shimura’s, you and Itto decided to lounge in the shop to wait for the food. But the moment he sat down on your swiveling seat, the gang leader refused to take his eyes off the caterpillar-turned-chrysalis that was Itto the Fourth. You actually forgot to bring up that it was finally one step closer to the next phase of its insect life given all the commotion that occurred over the last hour. But your patient didn’t seem to mind the delayed info.

“Say,” you begin, putting down your shears as you flash him a pointed look. “If you won’t tell me exactly what’s going on, can I at least know how you got on the yakuza’s bad side in the first place?”

Itto hums, craning his neck to meet your gaze. “Eh? Ain’t that the same thing?”

“Don’t think about it like that! Your origin story is different from your current predicament, you know.”

And then Itto makes a motion of pinching his thumb and index finger together before sliding it across his lips like a zipper—shaking his head petulantly. What a damn kid. 

To his credit, Itto may be idiotic about eighty percent of the time, but he’s still pretty sharp. You’re not sure if he’ll even spill the details once the entire ordeal is over. You can almost hear your mother chiding you for nosing into another person’s business, but what the hell is so important that Itto would have to (literally) break his back for the sake of it? A lifetime supply of yakisoba? A printed certificate that says ‘Arataki “The Yakuza Boss” Itto’? The longer you wallow in your own thoughts, the wilder your imagination runs, so you decide to spare yourself the trouble.

As you get back to your feet, you peek behind the blinds you drew at closing time, wondering when your food is going to arrive. Though it’s only been ten minutes since you placed your order, you were beyond starved. However, there don’t seem to be any delivery motorcycles in sight. Guess your dinner isn’t arriving miraculously early. 

“Is there anything I can do to make you tell me?” you ask out of the blue, turning your head to Itto, who is now comfortably leaning against the backrest of your chair. “Beating you in an onikabuto battle? An eating contest? Rock-paper-scissors?”

Yeah. You’ve totally lost it. You don’t even know why you’re trying so hard to get it out of him. It’s none of your business! Repeat until true! 

“Those are quite the honorable choices, if I do say so myself.” He laughs, cracking his fingers together. “But not even a mountainload of mora can get me to disclose the details. And that’s saying something ‘cause I’m kinda broke right now, but who cares!”

You do a double-take on that one. “Wait, you’re broke?” 

“Hm? Is that so hard to believe?”

You’re quick to stride back to the counter, placing a palm in front of him as you shoot Itto an incredulous stare. “The rent in this place is forty thousand yen a month. Rent that I pay to your gang. Your gang, who owns this property. Did you just happen to forget that?”

“Oh, yeah…”

“Shinobu doesn’t let you handle any of the money, does she?”

“Um… No, she does not.”

“Then how the hell have you been getting by all this time?” you nearly shout, throwing undecipherable hand gestures everywhere. “I-I don’t even pay you—”

Itto effectively cuts off your rambling by pressing a finger to your lips, making your eyes go wide as he shushes you. He meets your gaze earnestly, and only speaks once you’ve completely gone silent.

“I know you’re my master and I still have tons to learn from you when it comes to gardening or whatever. But lemme tell you this: you need to learn how to chill.” He says every word so slowly, it’s as if he’s talking to a prepubescent teenager. “Look at me! Barely escaped with my life back there, but I’m bonding with Itto the Fourth ‘cause the situation calls for it. Sometimes, you gotta adapt to strange environments, y’know?”

Chill. Right, yeah. Chill. A.K.A., something that you were already lacking the moment Itto didn’t step through the front door on the first day of his leave. And now he barges into your home, passes out, makes you treat both his wounds and him to dinner. Where the hell are you supposed to get a decent supply of goddamn chill?!

“Gee, why didn’t I think of that?” you balk sarcastically, slapping his hand away. “Thank you, Arataki. You just solved half the world’s problems with unsolicited advice.”

To your absolute joy, he chuckles aloud, looking way too pleased with himself. “You’re too kind! Some of my boys said I should start writing for an advice column in the daily newspaper. What do you thi—”

All of a sudden, Itto’s cheery voice cuts to the thick silence of the shop. He stills, rising to his full height as rusty amber eyes do a cautious sweep around the room. You’re about to ask what’s gotten into him before the man before you promptly has all the color drained from his face, as if having realized something drastic.

“Tsk, he’s coming...” he mutters, and for a moment, you momentarily mimic the shock on his face. Who’s coming? Those fuckers that hazed him? 

“Itto—”

“Yo, I’m going to, uh…” he trails off, grabbing Itto the Fourth’s jar before tucking it beneath his arm. The gang leader jams a thumb over his shoulder with a wobbly smile. “Hide in your room for a sec. Is that okay with you?”

“What?” You scowl. “Are you just going to leave me to entertain those lunatics alo—hey!”

Not even securing your explicit permission, Itto bolts back up to your apartment with his stupid hibernating caterpillar—leaving you right in the dust. The room is silent, save for the erratic thrum of your heartbeat that’s making you feel a little psyched out. Should you call the police? But if the person (people?) that Itto sensed was dangerous, surely he wouldn’t leave you to deal with them for him, right? But then again, cooking up assumptions about your unwitting apprentice was a common mistake that you’re growing tired of making.

Your instincts jolt to life when you hear three knocks on the front door of the shop, making your heart plummet to your stomach. 

It takes you a moment to realize you’re locked in another game of ‘Guess Who’s on the Other Side’. This time, it could either be A.) Itto’s assailant(s) or B.) the food delivery guy. Though your hunch was wrong about Tora’s sudden appearance in the balcony, you were pretty damn sure this can only be one or the other. 

Calm down, you tell yourself. Sure, Itto isn’t the best at keeping his temporary employment here all that discreet, but surely the yakuza won’t try to drag you into their problems. You’ve got nothing to do with all that! 

With a clean conscience, you breathe deep, compose yourself, and open the door.

“And here I thought you’d gone straight to bed.”

When you see who it is, your jaw nearly unhinges itself from your skull and lands on the floor. How the fuck can you be so wrong twice in the same night?!

“A-Ayato?” you stammer, but he’s already letting himself in—shrugging off the coat off his shoulders as he marvels at the state of your shop. “Lovely place you have here,” he comments. “I might send in an order or two pretty soon since Ayaka has been gushing about your bouquets non-stop.”

You can’t even be bothered to feel flattered at the promised revenue because you’re processing the presence of not just one, but three people that have entered your shop past closing time. Ayaka and Thoma followed suit right after the force of nature that is Kamisato Ayato, but thankfully these two look a bit more apologetic.

“You weren’t picking up any of our calls,” Ayaka sighs, stuffing her phone in her handbag and unraveling the scarf around her neck. “We thought you might’ve been in trouble.”

Calls…? As in, plural? Shit. You left your phone upstairs after that strange, heart-to-heart conversation with Itto on your balcony. You hadn’t bothered checking it since you finished patching him up. But you attempt to mask your surprise by shifting everyone else’s attention to Thoma instead.

“I told you something just came up, right?” you sigh. “Why’d you go ahead and let Ayato-nii march all the way here just to see if I’m fine?”

The blond chuckles, already sounding defeated. “We all know when waka’s got something set on his mind, there’s no stopping him.”

Well…that is true. 

You guess there’s no use trying to point fingers now that the Kamisato trio was here, so you just tell them to get comfortable instead. Thank Archons Itto suddenly rushed upstairs (for reasons that still eluded you). It’s going to be pretty hard to explain what a shirtless gang leader is doing waiting for late night takeout with you to these guys. Even if the four of you have been through weirder shit in the past. 

“Has business been faring well?” Ayato asks, carefully draping his fingers across the bonsai you were just trimming earlier. 

You nod. “Uh, yeah! So far so good. The people here in Hanamizaka have been sweet and accommodating. Didn’t really expect that in a place handled by the Arataki Gang.”

For some reason, the older Kamisato raises an eyebrow at that and you internally panic. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Was bringing it up a bad idea? Nahhhhh, Ayato couldn’t possibly know about Itto’s temporary post here. You aren’t even sure if Ayaka knows since Thoma isn’t really a snitch. You should be safe. Maybe.

Then, you hear a loud noise coming from upstairs.

Ayaka glances over to the stairwell curiously and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from actually screaming. Yep, entertaining these three and kicking them out ASAP should be your main priority right now. Close college friends plus big brother or not.

“What was that?” Ayato wonders.

“I-It’s probably just Mikan,” you laugh nervously. “She’s been really hyperactive lately. Turns the place upside down whenever she isn’t asleep hahaha!”

He looks, by no means, convinced of your reasoning, but thankfully Ayato plays along and decides to drift over to your beloved succulent rack. “Oh, I nearly forgot. Ayaka, Thoma, we were…informally invited to the wedding of one of the daughters of the branch families. I say informally because the ceremony is still in its planning stages.”

“Is there any reason you’re telling us this in advance as well?” Thoma asks.

“Mmm, well I heard the bride-to-be, who is one of our cousins, is going to wed a commoner from the city,” Ayato elaborates. “A commoner who suggested that this flower studio is going to take charge of the necessary arrangements for the wedding.” 

You take a moment to process that, vaguely remembering a job your mother told you to look out for the last time you were home. “...Do you mean Andou-san?” 

For the past few weeks, you were so preoccupied with keeping Itto in check that you completely forgot all about it. But who knew Andou’s fiancée was from a Kamisato branch family? Huh, small world. 

“Forgive me, I’m not very good with names, but when our cousin bought up your store in today’s lunch meeting, I just felt the need to bring you three together again.” Ayato laughs softly as he picks up one of the tiny potted succulents, casting a cheery stare at his present audience. “Just like old times, yes?”

“Nii-sama, the three of us have always kept in touch,” Ayaka sighs. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk to them about?”

The older man hollers, setting down the succulent as he raises his hands in surrender. “Oh, fine, fine. You caught me. Another reason why I wished to catch up with our dear friend is…this funny story told to me by one of my secretaries.”

“One of your secretaries?” you repeat.

Ayato nods. “She lives around this area. Told me she was walking home after sorting out some documents at the estate in Yougou Heights when she walked past Sakura Street and… Realized a motorcycle crashed into this very same shop! Shocking, is it?”

…Count on Ayato to express his concern in the most backwards way possible. You can feel your tongue turning sandpaper dry as your eyes discreetly rivet back to Ayaka and Thoma—two people you kept in the dark about the night you first met Arataki Itto. They exchange puzzled looks almost in unison, which means this is probably the first time Ayato brought the matter to their attention.

“Crash?” you chuckle, gesturing around the shop. “Does this look like a place that’s been trashed by a motorcycle, Ayato-nii?”

“Well, now that you mention it, that certainly doesn’t seem to be the case,” he hums thoughtfully. “But I couldn’t help but wonder…especially when Thoma over here told us about your lively helper. Arataki…was it?”

Fuck. He’s on to you. Ayato is soooo on to you. 

“Oh, yeah. Itt—uh, Arataki. That’s his name. Y’know, the gangster.”

“From what I heard, that man is kind of a bum,” Ayato remarks warily, folding his arms. “Yet he’s working here?” 

“Yeah, ‘course he is!” you reply a bit too quickly. “That guy um, takes odd jobs whenever money’s starting to get tight so I’m just helping out. It’s only for a few weeks.” Shot in the dark. You still don’t know how Itto’s made it this far without a stable job, on top of those weird allusions to a life in prison he’s yet to speak to you about.

“So where is he now?”

As if the man in question wishes to answer Ayato’s inquiries for himself, yet another crash resounds from upstairs. Holy shit. You are going to rip Itto to shreds once you’re done dealing with Ayato. Could he be any more goddamn obvious?!

“Mikan, stop messing with the furniture!” you yell (somewhat) convincingly. “A-Anyways, that guy is on leave right now. So if you’re looking for him, you might have to contact his deputy, Shinobu instead.”

“Do you need help rounding up your cat or something?” Thoma offers. “You always count on me to calm her down, remember?”

The mere suggestion is enough to send you into cardiac arrest. “Nope! It’s fine. Mikan’s just going through it is all. She’ll calm down eventually.”

“Is that why you weren’t able to have dinner with us?” Ayaka shoots you a worried look. “I know a well-practiced vet from Watatsumi Island. Would you like me to give you his card?” 

“Hey, come on!” you groan—feeling all sorts of pressured from their kind suggestions. Gods, you can only imagine how much these three were going to fuss if they found out that Itto’s crashing stunt was actually true. “You have all got to chill. We haven’t gotten together in nearly a year, and you guys choose to spend the time worrying? How about we call it a night for now and let’s just…hang out this weekend! How’s that sound?”

Ayato starts to stroke his chin contemplatively. “Hm, I did ask my secretary to free up my schedule next week. Business trips drain the life out of a man, if you kids only knew.”

“Nii-sama, you’re only three years older than us.”

“Ah, the ignorance of youth is bliss I can no longer attain.”

“They’re right, though,” Thoma, thank Archons, agrees with you, straightening the collar of his own jacket with an apologetic smile. “We’ve already imposed too much. Let’s all just continue this on the weekend. Should we meet you here?”

The last bit was directed at you, to which you respond in turn. “Sure. I promise I won’t stand you guys up anymore.”

“We’ll hold you to that then,” Ayato huffs, digging into the pocket of his trousers before tossing something in Thoma’s direction. Fortunately, the blond is dextrous enough to catch it mid-air. “Go take Ayaka back to the car. I’ll just put down a few orders I’d like our dear friend to make for me.”

Thoma nods without question, twirling Ayato’s keys around his index finger as he and Ayaka exchange farewells with you. Though, you try not to think about how your best friend’s stare lingers on you a tad longer than usual. 

When the door shuts behind the two of them, Ayato paces around the shop for a few moments more. Though you’re sure as hell he was just stalling, you can tell that the fondness in his eyes as he surveys each shelf is anything but fake. 

“So my office back at home has been looking very dull to me as of late,” he laments. “The rainforests of Sumeru are quite a refreshing sight, and I’d like to emulate the scenery, no matter how minimal, inside my workspace. That’s why I wanted to ask which decorative pieces you recommend for the setting I have in mind.”

You rack your mind for a catalogue of tropical plants that could suit Ayato’s tastes right then and there, feeling a bit proud of yourself to have earned his favor. “Let me see, uh, Monstera plants make for good minimalist decorations in the office, Ayato-nii. I actually have some displayed right…here.”

Wandering around the rows of shelves, you show Ayato a miniature version of the lush green plant that seemingly has holes on its leaves. “This is what they actually look like. They didn’t get attacked by pests or anything.”

“Oho, these are exactly what I saw by the riverbanks.” He nods. “I’ll have someone pick up, hmm, five of these within the week along with a check for the payment. Just text me the invoice after.”

“Sure thing.”

You’d be lying if you say you weren’t expecting him to sneak in something else in such a casual conversation about the items you have on sale. If there’s anything you know best about Kamisato Ayato, it’s that he likes to keep his intentions tucked discreetly between two different pages of a book—so that only those who are meant to know their meaning can read between the lines. But as you quietly see Ayato out of the shop, you wonder if it’s actually possible for him to do things without an underlying motive beneath all that pretense.

“A shame that you weren’t able to sample Komore Teahouse’s special dinner sets tonight,” he sighs, raising a hand to pat your head affectionately as he puts his coat back on. “But we all have lives to live and other matters to attend to at times. Just make sure you show up on Saturday, yes? You promised~”

“Yes, Ayato-nii. I promise.” You spare him a hearty laugh, wrapping your arms around Ayato tenderly. The years you spent growing older alongside him and his siblings always makes you feel like you were part of their family, too. Well, Ayato did say to never hesitate calling them your family once, and you’ve always done as told.

“Can you promise me one more thing?” 

Pulling away, you meet his silver-eyed gaze with brows raised. “What is it?”

He gazes at you with a tinge of seriousness for the first time tonight, one hand placed on top of your shoulder. Ayato opens his mouth, as if raring to speak his mind, but the moment you anticipate his words, they never come.

“...Forget it. I might be speaking out of turn,” the older man sighs, smiling sheepishly to himself. “Just—take care of yourself. Your future’s looking quite alright here in Hanamizaka, but I hope you know it won’t hurt to be more cautious.”

“You sound just like my dad, it’s kind of creepy,” you joke, patting his hand with yours. “Got it. Now, shoo! Ayaka and Thoma are probably waiting for you in—”

“Shimura’s delivery!”

Startled, you glance over at a man whose motorcycle is parked by the curb—the familiar Shimura’s logo printed brightly on the delivery box behind him. You can practically feel the day’s fatigue evaporate from your body at the sight of it.

“I’m the one who placed the order!” you say, waving him over. But as the delivery man scrambles over to where you stand, Ayato flashes you a minute nod—one you return with a warm smile that doesn’t falter even when he’s already walking away.

“Late night special for—” the delivery man practically announces to the whole neighborhood as he squints at the receipt in his other hand. “Arataki Itto?”

Again, you feel your entire body seize up at the mention of his name. You whip around to the direction Ayato headed when he finally made his leave, chest threatening to burst. He hasn’t gotten far yet, and the possibility of him having heard what this mouthy delivery guy just said is more likely than not. But Ayato doesn’t look back. In fact, he just keeps his strides forward as if he heard nothing at all.

“Yeah,” you respond to the man in front of you with a queasy smile. “That’s our order alright…”

“Well that took long enough!”

You don’t even have the energy to snap at Arataki once you make it back to your apartment, carefully setting down your food on the now-tidy coffee table. Huh. Did he clean up while you were downstairs or something? Only the remote to your TV and Itto the Fourth’s pickle jar littered the surface.

“What took long enough?” you sigh. “The food or me getting rid of my impromptu guests?”

Itto snorts from where he’s sitting cross-legged on your sofa. Thankfully, he’s now wearing a shirt but it seems a few sizes too—wait, is that your old pep rally shirt? “Duh! I was talkin’ about aniki. I have the patience of a mother when it comes to food, mind you. But when that guy’s in the vicinity, ohhhh boy! I’m not really ready for my 781st loss yet. I hope you understand why I had to run with my tail between my legs. Don’t tell him that, though. He’ll laugh at me.”

No matter how much you try to make sense of what the hell Itto was saying, you’re way too famished to think. So you decide to fill your poor stomach with something to eat first before asking questions.

The scent of chili oil and steamed dimsum makes your mouth water as you pop one into your mouth, chewing happily as you watch Itto wolf down his own very late dinner beside you. It feels a little strange, having a meal with someone on a couch you’ve only shared with Mikan, but the change isn’t unwelcome. Even if he probably broke into your room to steal your clothes.

“So, this aniki person you mentioned,” you start, quietly slurping your fried noodles. “Are you…talking about Ayato-nii, by any chance?”

“Eh?” Itto stares at you, putting down his chopsticks before bracing his palms on his knees. “You know aniki, too?”

“Well, yeah. He’s the older brother of one of my best friends,” you inform him. “How do you know him?”

“Haha! It’s a long story, master. One that’s best told over drinks and not fast food takeout. But I’m sure I can convince ya to go out drinking with me sooner or later.”

“Do you even have the mora for that?”

“Ahh, no. No, I don’t. That’s why you’re footing the bill as usual.”

“You’re really fucking thick-skinned, you know that?”

Once the two of you have finished bickering over interchanging topics in the span of thirty minutes, you clean up after your food. Itto actually has the decency to help you dispose of everything that needs disposing, as if he isn’t sporting any healing injuries at all. You try not to laugh at how comical it looks for him to lug a trash bag down the stairwell of your apartment wearing your pep rally shirt-turned-crop top. It’s either this guy has zero self-awareness or he seriously does not give a fuck. You’re not really sure which one it is.

“So, can I sleep on the couch?” Itto asks once he gets back, wiping the sweat off his brow.

A pause.

“What? You’re sleeping here?”

“Of course I am!” he says. “I can’t exactly show up at our home base looking all jacked up like this, now can I?”

“Well, you can’t just volunteer your employer’s couch as a temporary stronghold either, wise guy!” you scowl, kicking him in the shin as you retrieve your phone. A quick scroll across the lock screen clues you in on the several missed texts and calls that your friends made earlier, and—damn. You should really keep this thing on you all the time.

“You’re kicking me out just like that?” He pouts, and god, it’s such an atrocious look on him that it makes you want to hurl. But then again, it’s already, what, one in the morning? 

If you evict him now, Itto would probably just go back to those assholes that hurt him instead of swallowing his pride and letting his gang see him like this. Which will give you more problems than if you just let the guy sleep over for one night. Dammit!

The gods better be looking down on you with favor right now. 

“Fine. Do you need any blankets or something?” 

“Nah, s’fine. They don’t give you blankets in prison, so.”

“...Remind me to do a background check on you tomorrow?”

“Hehe, now why would I do that?”

You let out a long, long sigh when you shut the door to your bedroom. Itto assured you that he’d hold down the fort and beat up anyone who tries to rob you in the dead of night while you slept. A promise that’s equal parts reassuring and terrifying but you’re frankly too exhausted to think about it too much.

To your surprise, Mikan is already inside your room. But she seems to be preoccupied by something—

A gasp flees your lips when you see one of the photos you have propped up on your nightstand on the floor, lying face down with a couple of glass shards littering the floor. Mikan mewls once she notices you draw near, pawing at some of the fragments as you pick up the frame with careful hands.

It’s a picture of you and your dad at your junior high graduation day, but the protective glass sheen was smashed to pieces. Thankfully, the photo didn’t seem to suffer any damage. 

“Did you do this?” you ask Mikan, to which she replies with a sharp cry that makes you chuckle. “Yeah… Just messing with you.” 

That night, you think of two things as you slowly drift off to slumber. The first is: what did Ayato want you to promise? It’s really not like him to cut himself off mid-sentence like he did earlier. You’re going to try and bring it up again this weekend, if chance permits you.

As for the second thing…

“Why the hell would he do that?” you whisper to no one in particular, one arm draped across your eyes. In your mind, you imagine a statuesque man with strange tattoos standing over the broken picture frame—a disdainful look distorting his usually vigorous smile.

For once, you decide to sweep the dust under the rug, where no one else can hope to find it.

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 06 ⟢

do i get a gold star for doing a great job or no?

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.4k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto

★ DISCLAIMERS; contains completely made up shuumatsuban lore, please don't take it too seriously!

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

A young boy trudges to the side of a run-down building—vials of medicine clutched in his small arms as he rests against a dingy wall. His heart still races with adrenaline as he examines the amber bottles, wondering if he even snatched up the right ones. 

He lets out a shaky sigh, dabbing his fingers along the open cut on the back of his head. The warm liquid of his blood seeps from the wound, and he hisses at the abrupt contact.

Granny is so going to give him an earful later.

“You look pretty scratched up over there.”

The boy jolts at the sound of another voice. He glances around the abandoned warehouse, wondering if that security guard managed to tail him. But all he sees is a man in a gruffy looking suit—the buttons of his shirt undone to reveal twin dragon tattoos inked onto his chest. A pair of black sunglasses sits on the bridge of his nose, and the boy gulps, knowing exactly what type of person this is.

A yakuza.

“You need any help?” the man asks, taking out the cigarette from his mouth before killing the light underfoot. “Kids don’t usually wander ‘round these parts.”

“No,” he mumbles quickly, hugging the vials in his arms tighter to his chest. Granny is waiting for him back at home. He should probably get going—

“It’s your first time shoplifting, isn’t it?”

Before the boy can even move another step away, he freezes in his tracks. Is this guy going to scold him for it? Worse, is he going to turn him over to the cops? 

“Yes…”

“Mmm? Figures. You’re fast enough to get away from the man guarding the pharmacy, but not nimble enough to do all that unscathed,” the man chuckles, walking closer to stare him down. “So? Why’d you steal those in the first place?”

The boy is compelled to tell him to mind his own business, but he can almost hear granny’s voice telling him not to be rude to strangers, much more adults. Even if this guy is the epitome of a shady adult himself. 

“I-It’s my granny,” he mumbles. “She’s sick. She… She’s always the one who takes care of me, but we don’t have a lot of money so…”

The man nods. “You’re pretty honest for a kid.”

“...”

“Say, how about we go back to the pharmacy and apologize like proper citizens. I’ll pay for granny’s medicine if that’s what you’re so worried about.” 

The boy gapes. “You’d really do that?”

“Oh, it’s not for free, though.” He laughs again, bringing down his sunglasses to give the kid a glimpse of his eyes. “You see, kid, in a world like ours, nothing is freely given. Everything comes with a price.”

“...What do you want in return?”

The man hums thoughtfully, as if only having considered it when the boy knows he probably approached him with an ulterior motive in mind. Still, if it means getting medicine for granny in a way that won’t disappoint her…

“Well, it just so happens that my team has been declining in number as of late,” he sighs and takes out a handkerchief from his pocket as he kneels in front of the boy—dabbing at the wound on the back of his head. He stares at the man, puzzled, but he only responds with an almost-gentle smile.

“What do you think about becoming my disciple, huh?”

A few days later, you can say that things have become relatively peaceful.

Too peaceful.

As promised, Itto always keeps you updated about his plans and whereabouts—texting you so goddamn often that you had to tell him to knock it off in real life. You just wanted to know what he was up to; not be unknowingly lectured about the ingrown toenail he had checked in the doctor’s clinic. Well, even if he can be a bit gross, at least he’s honoring his end of the agreement. 

Your apprentice has been timing in regularly again like usual, too. Itto has familiarized himself with the specifically assigned placements on your shelves, and you can finally rely on him to do inventory while you take care of the delicate orders from your clientele. (He’s still a long way from handling your flowers with those heavy hands of his, but he’ll get to arrange a bouquet of his own one day. Maybe.)

The customers have definitely taken a liking to him as well. Ever since Itto got back from his so-called leave, the old ladies in the neighborhood fawned over him as he helped carry sacks of fertilizer to each of their houses. The bastard was all-too happy to serve, but you can’t quite put down the feeling that’s been nagging you since he returned.

This is what you wanted, right?

Itto is somewhere you can carefully watch over him, and in the event that he isn’t, he always keeps you posted through badly punctuated text messages. Just like you agreed.

But from his ghastly run-ins with the yakuza to the portrait he’d smashed that night, you were beginning to wonder if you really knew this guy as well as you thought. Well, technically speaking, it was normal not to know a whole lot about Itto. He was just a sacrificial lamb offered up by his gang to compensate for the inconvenience they caused. Your relationship doesn’t go beyond employer and employee, so the fact that you’re having all these complicated feelings about the situation doesn’t really make a lot of sense. 

Everyday, before he times out for the night, you make it a point to inspect Itto’s back for any new injuries. Though he insists that the last time he’s met up with his yakuza friends was the time he passed out on your door the other night, you still can’t be too sure. You pretend not to notice the way he tenses up every time your fingers graze his healing wounds, but you’re just glad that he isn’t out there hurting himself on purpose again.

But you don’t have the time to mull over trivial things right now, sadly.

“Alright! So the wedding is in four months, and the bride wants the motif to be…” You proceed to encircle a poorly drawn doodle on your notepad before showing it to Itto. “Hydrangeas.”

He examines your work with one hand on his chin. “I don’t need to know how to spell that, do I?”

You pointedly ignore his question. “These babies will take about ten to twelve weeks to grow. If we plant them today, they should be ready by spring.”

“Am I really going to work for you for twelve more weeks, master?”

“Got a problem with that?”

“...Strangely, no.”

And that’s how you ended up going to Konda Village alongside Itto. As he helps unload the gardening tools out of the taxi, you pay the fare to the driver once your helper has retrieved everything from the trunk. The guy promptly sees his way out of the dirt road and back to the city before you can even thank him for the ride—the wheels of his car kicking up dust everywhere.

“Okay, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t expect us to just plant all these in your back alley or something,” Itto pipes up suddenly, red eyes transfixed on the plot of land that stood before you. “But isn’t goin’ all the way out here too much?”

“You’re asking an awful lot of questions today.” You roll your eyes, undoing the latch on the wooden fence as you swing the small gate open. “Hydrangeas are huge when they’re fully bloomed. Plus, I had to call in a few favors just to free up this spot. Are you saying you want to render all my efforts futile, Itto?”

“I’m saying that it probably isn’t a good idea to close up shop this time of year,” he tells you, stepping inside the lot as he sets down your equipment. “Why do you think I’ve been timing in every single day, huh?”

Why has he been timing everyday, indeed? That’s the same question that you’ve been wanting to ask him for days now. But the answer apparently has something to do with the season? You shoot Itto a puzzled look that he only returns with a gasp. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

“I don’t know what?”

“You run a flower shop but you have no idea that Valentine’s Day is right around the corner?!”

“...Oh.”

Okay, maybe you lacked a bit of foresight in that regard, but… You’ve had a lot on your mind lately, okay? Sure, the sudden influx of customers is unusual enough for you to notice, but you’ve been so out of it that you never attempted to wonder why. Gods, you live in a reality where Arataki Itto—the main reason why you’re distracted in the first place—is more aware of your shop’s surroundings than you are. The world must be ending.

Just when you expect him to hound you with questions, Itto pushes up the sleeves of his shirt as he picks off a gardening hoe from your bag of tools. He flashes you a determined smile that makes you want to punch him in the face immediately after.

“So, where do we start?”

You suppose that you could’ve just ordered some pre-grown hydrangeas so you could continue cultivating them on your own. That’s going to be much faster than growing the flowers from scratch, but this is the first major booking you’ve ever accepted. If you want your business to gain a reputation for itself, you might as well showcase your skill in the process, right? What better way to ensure quality control than to grow them yourself?

You tell Itto to leave ample spaces in between plots, reminding him over and over that hydrangea shrubs take up a lot of space to the point that you’re probably annoying him. Which is fine. He should think of it as payback for all the times he talked your ear off about the most insignificant things during work hours and beyond. 

Of course, you’re not some tyrant that just orders their loyal subjects around, though. You pitch in your brunt of the work by planting the seeds your mother gave you. The hydrangeas back at your parents’ house were always so lovely, and you hope you could emulate the same quality for Andou’s wedding in the spring. 

“You said this plot of land was owned by your mom, right?” Itto asks out of the blue, hefting the garden hoe over his shoulder as he glances at you curiously. “Is she into growing stuff too or somethin’?”

Patting down the lump of soil you scooped over your next patch of seeds, you reply, “She used to run a flower shop before she had me. This is where she grows plants that are too high maintenance for indoor environments.”

“Ohhh, it runs in the family.” Itto nods thoughtfully. “You’ve been doin’ a pretty good job for yourself, though. I’m sure she’s proud of you.”

You try not to let the compliment get to your head.

“What about you?” you ask him. “Do you have any other family aside from the gang?”

He hums before resuming his work. “Yeah, my granny. She took me in when I was just a kid, but the folks around Hanamizaka started calling her Granny Oni after.”

“...Were you that much of a problem child?”

“Nah. It’s ‘cause I’m an oni, remember?” 

You do remember; you just refuse to acknowledge it. Why is this man so determined to brand himself as a demon anyways? Either way, you’re not really in the mood to pry about that in particular.

“Right,” you say dryly. “How about blood relatives? Have you ever seen your real parents?”

You immediately realize that you’re toeing on dangerous territory when Itto visibly stiffens. The grip he has on the handle suddenly turns knuckle-white, but he’s quick to compose himself before you can even retract the question.

“My folks died of some nasty disease when I was about, I dunno, five.” He shrugs, sounding way too nonchalant for someone talking about his dead parents. “I did have a cousin who was with me all the time, though. He’s like a brother to me, but… We got separated eventually, and I haven’t seen him since.” 

Something about the somber tone his voice suddenly takes on makes your face twist with sympathy. Idiotic as he might be, it isn’t so weird to know that Itto has incurred his own losses, too. What does come off as strange, however, is how he seems more attached to this cousin of his than his own parents. 

“Have you ever tried looking for him?” you wonder, rising back to your feet to pat the dirt off your pants. 

It takes Itto a while to answer, and you hear nothing but the sound of the garden hoe sinking into the rich brown soil. You quietly plant the seeds in the spots that he carves out for you, and when he finally speaks, you listen to every word.

“I have,” he murmurs. “But he doesn’t really want to be found.”

This time, you know better than to shatter the silence.

“Hey, master! Can you hold on for a sec?”

You glance over your shoulder with brows raised. Itto is absentmindedly hooking back the latch on the fence’s gate when you catch him typing something on his phone, and you wonder what he’s up to.

Hydrangea gardening was quite the success, and you were already done talking to the elderly couple who’d taken care of your mother’s plot since she’d purchased it. All that’s left is to head back to the city before nightfall, but your wonderful apprentice seems like he’s being held up by something entirely.

“What’s the matter?” you ask Itto once you’re in close proximity. “Since you graciously reminded me that it’s Valentine’s season, I might have to make some last-minute shipments. So I’d appreciate it if you hurry up.”

Itto chuckles softly, pocketing his phone. “I’ll have you back at the shop faster than you can blink if you come with me.”

“Come with you? What—”

You don’t even get to finish the sentence because he’s already seized you by the wrist; dragging you further into the village without giving any leeway for protest. That obviously doesn’t stop you from making a scene, though. You thrash against Itto’s grip, yelling in a way that both attracts the attention of the villagers and smashes through the peaceful air of Konda. 

“Where do you think you’re taking me?! This is kidnapping!”

“You’re not a kid anymore.”

“I’m still my dad’s little rascal, so you don’t get to decide that!”

Okay, bringing up the silly names your father calls you is quite the low blow to your own pride. But just when you expect Itto to tease you about being a daddy’s girl or whatever, you briefly get a glimpse of a grim look settling over his face. He doesn’t give you time to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light, though. In the next second, he full-on grins with that stupid, shit-eating smile—making you forget about that split-second shift faster than a bullet train at rush hour. 

“Relax, and quit making it look like I’m a serial killer,” he huffs. “I’m just going to grab my bike from the repair shop so I can give you a lift! Shinobu’s gonna cut my family jewels off if she finds out I made you walk from here to Hanamizaka, so…”

Huh. So he does have an ounce of gentlemanly pride in that thick skull of his. But still.

“You had your motorcycle fixed all the way here?” you ask incredulously. 

“Konda Village may not be known for their mechanics, but the guy that tunes up my ride whenever I need a fix is trustworthy, ‘kay?” Itto informs you before finally letting go of your wrist. “In fact, we’ve already arrived~”

You blink, taking in your surroundings. Itto stopped in front of a building that looks a bit more modern compared to the other houses in the village. The metal shutters are up, revealing the inside of the shop for easier viewing. Spare parts are lined haphazardly along rows of metal shelves, and various tools can be seen hanging from the side of a wall just above a cluttered work table. The space kind of seems cramped, though. You wonder if Itto’s mechanic simply overhauled their garage and turned it into something profitable. 

“‘Sup. You here to get your ride?”

You’re a bit surprised to see Haru emerge from inside, a dash of grease smeared across the side of his face as pushes up the goggles on his head. He’s one of the first members of the Arataki Gang you’ve met aside from Itto and Shinobu. But it makes sense for your apprentice to trust him with his bike so much if that was the case.

“Oh? You brought the boss lady, too?” Haru raises an eyebrow—gaze flicking your way.

“Hey, I only let it slide when Tora called them that one time,” Itto grumbles. “I’m still the boss, got that? Master over here’s got nothin’ to do with the gang.”

The mechanic chuckles, using the small towel slung over his shoulder to wipe the sweat and dirt off his face. “Well, y’know how osmosis works between brothers.”

“Osmo… what?”

“Anyways, I don’t believe we’ve properly been introduced,” Haru says, turning to you as he completely dismisses Itto’s question. You and him are going to get along; you can already feel it. “I’m Kanzaki Haru. Nice to meet you.”

Once you introduce yourself back, you can’t help but ask, “You and Tora are brothers?” 

“The resemblance ain’t very uncanny ‘cause we have different mothers, but yeah.” Haru nods. “By the way, Itto. Your bike’s as good as new in the back. You wanna try it out?” 

“Of course I do!”

Seemingly familiar with Haru’s workshop already, your apprentice is quick to bolt back outside—presumably to check on his motorcycle where the bike should be. You sigh. So much for packing up as soon as you could. 

“You know, he’s started to look better ever since Shinobu forced him to work with you.”

His words catch you off guard a little. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, our boss is in good hands,” he chuckles, pulling out a wheeled stool beneath his work desk before plopping himself on top of it. “The gang was pretty opposed to the idea when we broke the news, but now everyone seems convinced enough that you’re taking care of him alright. Myself included.”

“...I’m not trying to steal Itto away, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“It would actually do all of us a favor if you did.”

You scowl. “Do you hate him or something?” 

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Haru interjects with a smile. “We love Itto so goddamn much that we want him to start thinking of himself for a change. That guy’s got a heart that’s bigger than his own body, if you still haven’t noticed.”

You have. In fact, it’s harder not to notice. 

Despite the (probably) illogical reason behind it, Itto willingly deals with his own problems under the Arataki Gang’s noses because he doesn’t want them to share the same burden. He doesn’t even have to say a thing for you to know how much he cares about them. And if the hearsay about the gang being a safe haven for misfits has any real weight to them, then it would just prove Haru’s words tenfold. 

“I’m sure he’s always going on and on about his oni heritage, am I right?” Haru asks. 

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask someone about that,” you admit. “But I thought Shinobu was still busy, so I kind of put it off…”

“Haha! Well, the first thing you should know is that every word that comes out of his mouth is true.”

“...Are you telling me to play along with his oni superhero fantasy or something?”

The mechanic shakes his head. “No, I’m telling you to believe him when he says he’s an oni.”

You proceed to stare at him like he’s an escaped mental ward patient.

Haru lets out a lighthearted laugh, reaching for one of the loose screws on his desk as he fidgets with it. “It’s a bit of a stretch, yeah. And the oni blood has watered down after several generations. But those marks on his face and chest? Those ain’t tattoos. He’s had them since we were kids.”

“I’m still not buying it,” you tell him. “He doesn’t even have horns!”

“Hey, his genetics are out of anyone’s control, you know?” Haru rebuts. “Either way, I can’t and won’t force you to believe me. I just thought it’d do you some good to learn more about Itto now that you’re stuck with him.”

“Temporarily,” you add. “It’s not like he’s going to work for me forever, right? The gang’s waiting for him.”

The mechanic pauses, quietly placing that loose screw into a jar full of all sorts of metal fasteners. “You know, the Arataki Gang wasn’t always this big of a deal.”

“It started with Itto and three of his friends from the city. Now those guys were the actual delinquents. Stirring up trouble for no real reason. But after a few years, they accumulated more and more members.”

“Yet you were recognized as the top dogs of Hanamizaka,” you point out. 

“Well, that’s all thanks to a certain…third party. Our mentor.”

“Mentor?”

Haru nods. “Back in the day, Shinobu, Itto, and I all trained under the Shuumatsuban. Does the name ring a bell?”

Shuumatsuban? That's the first you've heard of it, and you let him know with a shake of your head.

“Aha. Think of it as a…martial arts club of sorts,” he chimes, and you get the feeling that there’s more to it than what Haru is willingly divulging, but you opt not to press. “Our mentor trained the three of us along with a handful of other kids for a while. Tora even joined in when he was old enough to fight.” 

Martial arts club, huh. Well, that explained how Itto was able to hold up against the yakuza multiple times. It also explained how Tora had it in him to jump off your balcony unscathed. That’s some mentor they have.

“We had the time of our lives—that’s the thing I remember the most. Even if our mentor was starting to disappear on us, we never stopped carrying out missio— I mean, training. You know how kids take those taekwondo tournaments seriously.” Haru punctuates this with a suspicious-sounding laugh. “At least, that’s how things were until our mentor stopped showing up completely.” 

“He…abandoned you?”

He shrugs. “More or less, yeah. And get this, when we tried to investigate, we found out that he has a family of his own. He never really told us that. Shinobu even said that we were all big enough to clean up after our own messes, and that we should just leave our mentor alone with his family, but…”

“I’d be furious if my mentor suddenly left like that,” you tell him. “Isn’t that a bit harsh on his part? I know it’s just some martial arts club, but he could’ve at least explained what was up.”

Haru laughs again, but it sounds a bit lonely. “We don’t really get to have everything we want. That’s just the way things are. Although, out of the four of us, I’m pretty sure Itto was the one who took it the hardest.”

“He resents our mentor for what he did. I don’t think he’s actually over it to this day... But even if the other kids from the Shuumatsuban carried on with their own lives, Itto made sure there was still a place where misfits like us can belong,” he continues. “I was one of the first people he tried to invite. But I was already dead-set on keeping my nose out of that gang business.”

“And look where you are now,” you tease.

“Hey, if you have an adorably pushy little brother, and an equally pushy friend named Kuki Shinobu, it’s hard to keep refusing.” Haru sighs. “Now here we are, one big happy family.”

“That still doesn’t explain why the Tenryou Commission recognized you guys officially.” You cross your arms. “Come on, Itto’s taking his sweet time inspecting his ride as is. I’m sure you can share some more details.”

“I’m getting there.” He rolls his eyes. “We never expected it either, you know. One of the officers from the police station suddenly just showed up at home base and broke the news. Shinobu and I suspected that our mentor pulled a couple of strings in the sidelines as an apology of sorts, though we could never really confirm it.”

“But even if that guy left us all in the dust, it doesn’t change the fact that Itto created a safe space for people like us.” Haru smiles. “They didn't have to train the way we did back in our Shuumatsuban days. As long as they felt estranged, despised, or abandoned, we’d take ‘em all in. That's what the Arataki Gang is all about.”

…These boys aren’t troublemakers at all. Not in the slightest. You have no clue how the rumors about the gang even sprang up in the first place, but after hearing all this, you couldn’t help give Itto a couple of brownie points for his unwavering compassion. You never would’ve expected a guy like him to care about his friends so deeply.

Suddenly, a loud roar snaps you out of your musing.

“Oi, Haru! You sure you washed the engine properly? I don’t like how it sounds when I’m revving it up.”

As if on cue, the man of the hour brought his motorcycle back to the front, looking in much better condition than how it used to be the night he crashed it into your shop. The silver handles were polished to perfection, and the dragon sigil—oni sigil, you correct yourself—festooned by the headlight glimmers like solid gold.

“You’re not doubting my expertise now, are you?” Haru sighs. “That shitty bucket of bolts has been sitting in the garage for weeks. I was wondering when you’re going to bother picking it up.”

“Well, sorry I had my hands full with my new job,” Itto bites back sarcastically, but you feel no antagonism in the words. “Speaking of my new job… Master! Hop on! You still need to make a few orders, right?”

You shoot him a perplexed look. “After what you did to my store, it’s bold of you to think I’m just going to let you drive me back on this thing.”

Itto shrugs. “You seem to trust me with a lot of things now. Isn’t trusting me with your life included in the package this time?”

“You’re despicable.”

“Really, I’ve been told worse.” Itto smiles as he holds out his hand, and you hate the way your heart flutters at the sight. “Come on! We’re burning daylight!”

Reluctantly, you turn to Haru who’s already waving a hand in farewell. “It was nice talking to you, boss lady. See you soon.”

You return the gesture with a warm smile, grateful that he trusted you enough to tell you about the lives they lived as children. The mechanic’s tale certainly painted your not-so-good-for-nothing apprentice in a different light. Maybe you’ll start being a bit nicer to him from here on out.

Haru doesn’t ask, but you say it anyway.

“I’ll take care of him. That’s a promise.”

“You know, I really don’t appreciate being left in the dark!” Itto yells over the blare of the traffic as he eases his motorcycle at a red light. “Not only are my boys callin’ you boss lady now, but who the hell are you and Haru talking about? Take care of who? Do you need back-up or somethin’? I bet I can knock that guy dead!”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can,” you say, leaning against the backrest of his bike. “Don’t worry your empty little head about it.”

“Empty?!” 

Before he can get another word out, the light turns green. Itto groans.

The trip was faster than you’d expected. Konda Village was a thirty minute drive away from the city, but Itto made it to the outskirts of Hanamizaka in fifteen. While you had some reservations about riding with him, he proved to be a much better driver than you thought. Those yakuza assholes must’ve bashed his head pretty bad that night for him to crash into your shop.

But that’s not the only thing you end up mulling over about the man in front of you.

You think about Haru’s words over and over. About how Itto takes poorly to being left behind; about how he makes sure no one else has to feel the same way. Then, you remember the fact that his parents passed so early in his life, and the cousin that he seems to have never stopped looking for. 

He always takes things in stride, you realize. Always grinning like a goddamn madman before hurtling headfirst into his stupid ideas. But you also realize that just because he’s someone who can effortlessly make the people around him smile, doesn’t mean he’s invincible.

You witnessed that firsthand when he came to you, sporting the worst piece of hazing evidence you’ve seen in your life. 

When it all comes down to it, you still don’t know how to feel about this stack of contradictions that goes by Arataki Itto. You don’t know why he’s dabbling with the yakuza. You barely know anything about the guy at all. But you do know that a person who can easily tell you that you’ve been doing a great job also needs someone to let them hear the words in return.

It’s the least you can do, after all.

Your eyes rove over the way his unruly white hair sways in the breeze. Itto had the decency to tie it when you decided to ride behind his back. And it makes it awfully easy for you to circle your arms around the broad circumference of his torso—pressing your cheek against his back as you lock him in a loose embrace.

Itto doesn’t flinch at the contact like you expect him to. He merely tenses for a fraction of a second before his muscles ease up after a moment’s hesitation. You breathe in the scent of sun and sweat clinging to his hair, and surprisingly, you don’t mind. In fact, you even find yourself worrying about the wounds on his back. But if you were so concerned, you suppose you could just inspect them once you got back to the shop.

“You’re doing a great job,” you tell him, hoping the words won’t get lost in the wind.

He doesn’t say anything; doesn’t give any sort of reaction. But you can almost feel him smiling away from view either way.

For you, that was enough. 

“So? How’s my driving?”

“You had me at a loss for words there,” you say once you hop off his bike—handing the only helmet he has in the trunk back to him. “You’re a pretty decent driver yourself, Itto. Though if you’re going to let other people ride more often, you should have two helmets in stock.”

“Right, right. Road safety and all that jazz.” He waves a hand nonchalantly. 

“You’re good enough to get a license~” 

“Um, excuse me, I so have a driver’s license!” Itto corrects, fumbling around in his pockets to bring out his (usually empty) wallet. “Here! See that? I look dashing in my picture, just so you know.”

You lean in for a closer look as he shows you the card. Hmm… It’s issued by the Tenryou Commission’s Land Transportation Department. Looks official enough—

Wait a second.

“Itto,” you begin, meeting his eyes warily. “This thing was issued two years ago.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You do know that you have to renew your license every year, right?”

“... No, I did not know that.”

“Is this why you’ve been getting arrested so often?!”

“Hey, I’ve never once been arrested for violating traffic regulations! Okay, maybe I was thrown into the slammer once for beating a red light. And I almost ran over a kindergartner on his way to the day-care. Oh, and let’s not forget the very reason why the two of us even met in the first place—”

I can’t believe I felt sympathy for this guy, you think to yourself—groaning as Itto lists off his public offenses while you both head inside the shop.

But it's not like I’m about to stop, either. 

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

HAIII I DONT usually send anons to people who write the fanfictions I read but I’ve been reading reparations on ao3 and I just wanted to tell you that you characterize itto so well and it’s been such a fun read I’m so excited for you to share more about it!!!!!

AHHH tysm!! i really wanna get around to finishing it but i haven't updated in four months </3 hope the inspiration hits me soon

[cryoculus]

your Itto fic... is so good... it's-it's like a glass of cold water in the hot desert... I'm so serious rn i LOVE IT, thank you- oh thank you so much for writing it i'm on my knees

thank you so much! i love this fic to pieces, so this means a lot to me <3

[cryoculus]

— reparations 03 ⟢

knocking on heaven’s (read: my employer’s) door

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.9k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, thoma

★ WARNINGS; mild injuries

★ HEADER ART CR; aoirooto on zerochan

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

“Your pressure is way too strong!”

“Whaaat? They’re plants. I’m sure they can take a beating.”

“Arataki, you’re going to destroy the leaves!”

“I won’t, calm down~”

You’re more than aware of how your early morning banter is attracting the attention of the passers-by on Sakura Street. Those gazes flashed in yours and Arataki’s way are quick to avert when they realize who it is they’re staring at. You don’t really blame them. After all, if it were you, you wouldn’t want anything to do with a gang leader murdering exotic plants with a garden house out in the open.

“Give me that,” you hiss, snatching the spray nozzle from his hands before adjusting the water pressure. Once you press the handle, a calm sprinkle of water douses the plants displayed outside your shop—a far-cry from the setting Arataki had it on earlier. 

“That’s how you water them.” Huffing, you press the object back into his not very capable hands. “Didn’t you tell me ‘taking care of plants is the same as taking care of pets’ the other day? Would you blast your pets with water like that, too?” 

He squeezes the handle a few times, trickling water all over the sidewalk before giving you a straightforward answer. “Why not? It’s fun.”

Oh, dear archons.

It’s been a few days since the problem child that came in the form of one Arataki Itto was assigned to your care. Honestly, it feels more of a punishment than a means to make up for last week’s crashing incident, but Shinobu was so intent on having her boss help around that you just couldn’t kick Arataki out. No matter how much his airheaded tendencies got in the way of getting actual work done, no matter how much he grates on your nerves in general, you steeled yourself through it all because the property they offered was the reason you can live independently today. 

“Now this is an interesting mix.”

You jump a little at the sound of Kazuha’s voice. He’s already switching off the engine to his motorcycle when you notice it parked by the curb. Those red-amber eyes are alight with curiosity as Kazuha’s gaze darts between the two of you.

“Wait a sec…” Arataki crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at your poor delivery boy. “Aren’t you the scrub that Shinobu always hires to deliver back all the loot we scored? You’re the same guy, aren’t ya?” 

“The loot you what?” you repeat.

Kazuha manages a soft laugh before procuring his cell phone from his pocket. “Even if the Arataki Gang has more official business with regards to Hanamizaka’s territory nowadays, Arataki-san over here can still maintain a bit of a…mischievous streak, if you may.”

“...I’m not sure what you mean by that, but—”

“Oh, I just helped some of the kids under my wing win those beetle fights I told you about,” Arataki nonchalantly supplies before resuming to water your plants. “Everyone knows that the loser has to surrender all the snacks and trading cards he has to those who come out on top.”

Your jaw drops at his admission. Did… Did he just admit to stealing other kids’ snacks and toys for the sake of his own? 

“And it happens often enough that Shinobu-san has become one of my regulars as well,” Kazuha sighs before showing you the electronic receipt to your most recent transaction. “This one’s addressed to…Ritou Harbor. Quite far.” 

“Right?” you groan before gesturing for Kazuha to follow you inside the shop. “They just ordered a box of aralia seeds, but I still have a free delivery promo going on. Which means I gotta fork over the sky high delivery rates from here to Ritou. Ugh, don’t they have a local flower shop there?”

Kazuha shakes his head. “If you ask me, I think it’s good that your shop’s gaining traction around Narukami Island. More business ventures make for more profit.”

“I guess you’re right,” you sigh, hefting a sealed box of seeds into Kazuha’s arms. “I can’t believe it’s only been a month since I opened up shop.” 

“I’m sure the store will continue to flourish from here on out,” he comments with a smile, tapping on some prompts on the delivery app. “And with the extra help you have now, it’ll be an easier feat as well.”

Your eyes instinctively drift over to the window, where you can spot Arataki rounding up the hose outside in loose coils that he has no trouble carrying on one arm. Though you’re loath to admit it, you sigh at your delivery boy’s observation—trying to force down the smile that threatens to erupt on your face.

“He’s only here for the meantime, though…” 

Once you’ve sent Kazuha off, you spot Arataki picking a caterpillar from the leaves of your freshly repotted dracaenas. You could’ve sworn you heard him telling it off for wandering where it shouldn’t before turning to you.

“Oi, didn’t you say these guys are gonna eat up your plants?” he wonders aloud, watching as the tiny caterpillar coils around his finger. “Where should I put him then?”

Well, at least he’s actually retaining all the stuff you told him on his first day. You sigh, folding your arms across your chest. “Just kill it with salt in the back.” 

Arataki gasps, like you just uttered something offensive. “Are you that heartless, master? These guys can turn into beautiful butterflies if they live long enough! Why’re you gonna have ‘em killed?”

“Because they put holes in my leaves?” you deadpan. 

“Unacceptable!” he shouts before marching into the shop. 

When you follow Arataki inside, you find him rummaging through one of the cabinets where you kept some empty jars for sale. Your apprentice grabs one from inside, and places it on top of your work table. He does all this with his index finger still outstretched, and while you observe his maneuvering from the side, you can’t help the peal of amusement that bubbles in your chest. You knew that this guy has a total soft spot for all insect-life, but to actually see his compassion in action is a whole different story. 

Is he even a gang leader at all?

“There you go. Nice and comfy,” Arataki says once he uncaps the jar, letting the caterpillar down on the base of the glass container. “Now let’s get you some food…”

That makes you perk up. “Wh— You’re not going to pluck leaves off my plants, are you?” 

The culpable look on his face tells you everything you need to know.

“Ugh. Fine, give me a sec.”

And that’s how you end up handing Arataki a bunch of dried leaves you intended to dispose of earlier. You were used to crushing them to mix in with some fertilizer, but your stock for that is already overflowing as is, so you didn’t really have a need to keep the leaves. But watching Arataki feed them to a little caterpillar—red eyes glimmering with awe—puts you strangely at ease. 

Sometime later, Shinobu pushes past the front door of the shop—looking all sorts of haggard, like she usually does nowadays. 

“Sorry I couldn’t drop by earlier,” she sighs. “How’s the boss holding up?”

“Shinobu!” Arataki beams from the seat he pulled closer to the window earlier, gesturing towards the jar sitting on the windowpane. “We got a new friend!”

The deputy stares at Arataki, then the caterpillar, then you. 

“Don’t worry,” you reassure her. “He didn’t set anything on fire trying to get it into the jar.”

“You say that like I set stuff on fire by default,” Arataki quips.

Ignoring her boss’ sidetracking, Shinobu grabs your hands in hers, squeezing almost tenderly. You’re a bit surprised by the gesture, gaze flickering towards Arataki to see if he’s catching any of this. But apparently, your trainee is too busy ogling his new friend. 

“Thank you,” Shinobu sighs, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against your intertwined hands. “You don’t know how much this means to the gang.”

Blinking, you say, “Shinobu? Are you okay…?”

The deputy steps back, peeling her hands away with a deep breath. “Yes, yes. I’m just…a little tired. I’m really sorry for making you sort-of take care of him in my stead.”

“So you’re completely aware that you just gave me a babysitting job?”

Shinobu flashes you a conniving grin. “How about I give you forty percent off this month’s rent as further compensation?”

“...Oh, don’t mind me! I babysit gang bosses all year round!”

“Shinobu,” Arataki drawls from the window, marching over to where the two of you stood. “I won’t be home tonight, by the way. You can tell the boys to go ahead without me.”

“Wait, aren’t we headed to HQ together?” Shinobu wonders, voice turning serious by the second. “Boss, don’t tell me you’re going back there again. You already heard what Haru has to say about it. And what happened to you the last time you tried to cross them!”

Haru… That’s the man who was in charge of fixing your shop. Could he be one of Arataki and Shinobu’s trusted associates? He did seem like the responsible-yet-slightly-rebellious type to you. But even if you’re more intrigued about what Shinobu is talking about in the latter part of her spiel, you knew better than to pry.

Arataki laughs, ruffling Shinobu’s hair with a large hand. “Don’t worry about it! Arataki ‘The Sound Negotiator’ Itto has it all under control. If they look for me, just tell the boys I’m trying to score an out-of-print trading card like usual.”

“You know that only works on the younger ones, right?” Shinobu sighs, but despite her initial reluctance, there’s a hint of resignation in her words; like she knows she can’t stop Arataki once he’s set his mind on something. “Fine. Call me when you get back to your flat or else I’m going to assume you’re dead in a ditch.”

“That’s harsh.” He pouts before turning to you. “You won’t treat me as badly as Shinobu does, will you, master?”

You flash him a pointed look. “If you try to overwater my plants again, I’ll gladly plan your funeral myself.”

“You’re all cruel, you know that?!”

“Hey! It’s been a…while?”

The cheery tone that Thoma usually chirps up inside your shop falls short with a pause. He spots a not-so stranger behind the counter, reclining comfortably on a swiveling seat that’s a bit too small for someone of his stature. 

When Arataki notices Thoma’s intent stare, he blinks up from a strange jar he’s observing on the wooden surface. “Hm? There anything you want? I’m kinda busy here.”

Several questions shoot through Thoma’s head all at once: one: What the hell is this gang leader, the same guy who roughed him up a few years back, doing here; two: Why is he wearing a floral-patterned apron and; three:

“Where is the owner?” He tries to sound as civil as he can, the memories from his last altercation with Arataki—regardless of how much time has passed since—still fresh in his mind. Thoma knows that his gang isn’t as bad as the rumors paint them out to be, but it costs nothing to be a bit more cautious. 

Especially if a big hulking man like Arataki Itto suddenly appeared in your shop.

“Oh? You mean my master?” the gang boss perks up. “They’re doin’ a personal delivery to the hospital. I said I wanted to tag along, but they said I might just give the customer a heart attack! Like, what, will they pass out because of how awesome I look in this apron?”

A soft meow startles Thoma out of his initial disbelief. There, he spots Mikan pop her head out from underneath the counter, hopping onto Arataki’s lap as she scratches her claws against the aforementioned apron. This terrifies the blond to a certain extent because even if Mikan is the cuddliest cat he’s ever known, surely she wouldn’t extend her affections so easily to—

“Arataki, you haven’t been scaring my customers away, have you?” 

Thoma jolts, once again, at the sound of your voice timed with the chime of the front door’s bells. You’re in the middle of unclipping your bike helmet when you spot him gaping at you by the freshly stocked shelves. 

“Thoma? What’s up?” You smile, jabbing a thumb behind your shoulder. “Sorry. I had this guy watch over the shop while I was gone. Are you buying anything?”

“Nah, I was just in the area. Thought you’d wanna have lunch or something,” he coughs awkwardly into a fist, green gaze darting between you and the oblivious Arataki playing with Mikan behind the counter. “Was he just passing by or…?”

You shake your head. “He’s part-timing. Sort of.” 

“Hanamizaka Flower Studio at your service!” Arataki chimes from his seat.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and at the same time, you finally notice the way Thoma’s face has been slowly but surely contorting with confusion. “It’s— It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in when I can, yeah?”

Thoma nods slowly. “I’m guessing that lunch is a no, then?”

“I gotta update the inventory. You know how meticulous I am when it comes to that stuff, right?” you sigh, flashing him an apologetic smile. “Tell Ayaka I said hi! Oh, wait, isn’t it her day-off today? You should take her to lunch instead, idiot.”

There’s a momentary pause in the conversation—an almost awkward tension that hangs in the air. He can even feel Arataki’s gaze snap in his direction the moment the silence hits. But it’s gone just as swiftly as it came when Thoma snaps his fingers with a bright smile. 

“You think she’ll agree to it?” He pouts. “I helped Ayaka go through some of her students’ papers last night and I didn’t want to bother her on her day-off. That’s why I thought I’d bother you instead.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. As far as I know, she hasn’t said no to you, like, ever. Now go on, lover boy. If you want to bring her some flowers, I’ll even toss in a discount.”

“Will you ever toss me a discount, master?” Arataki asks. 

“No.”

“Aw, c’mon! Where are the employee benefits?”

“Ah, it’s alright,” Thoma interjects with a soft laugh, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “If I give her any more flowers, she might give me an earful.”

You sigh, tucking your helmet beneath your elbow. “You do have a point. Receiving flowers won’t be as special if you get them all the time.”

“Oh? I beg to differ,” Arataki hollers, lifting Mikan by her waist as he spins around on the swiveling chair. “I think it’s pretty neat to give gifts to someone you like, no matter how often. If they like ‘em, that shouldn’t be an issue, right? I say you go big or go home.”

“...Yeah, I was just about to go home,” Thoma laughs uneasily before nodding your way. “Glad to see you have some extra help now. I’ll let Ayaka know you’ve been holding up fine.”

“Drop by whenever you feel like it,” you tell him with a smile.

The moment the door closes behind Thoma, however, you feel an intense gaze from Arataki that’s silently telling you he has something he wants to say. Irritably, you glance over your shoulder with a questioning look. He’s stopped spinning around on your chair, thankfully, and is stroking Mikan’s fur from where your cat lounges lazily on his lap. But despite the relatively calm disposition he’s in, it seems that Arataki still has it in him to drop a few bombs today.

“That guy totally has a thing for you.”

You nearly choke on your own breath. “W-What?”

Arataki shrugs, bringing out a comb from his pocket as he unceremoniously grooms himself in front of you. “I know ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to a lot of things. I admit that. But I’ve never been wrong about these gut feelings of mine.”

“And what exactly is your gut telling you now?”

He hums for a moment, propping the tip of his comb on his chin in contemplation. “It says that guy has the hots for you and he’s just, like, totally chicken to admit it.”

“Oh contraire,” you challenged with a laugh, setting down your helmet by the counter. “I’ve known Thoma since I was a college freshman. He’s in love with the woman I told him to grab dinner with! Has been for six years now. Where’d you even get the idea that he likes me, of all people?”

“Like I said, gut feeling!” he repeats, rubbing languid circles across his abdomen. Now that you think about it, the apron you gave is making good work of concealing his normally exposed abs. Wait, why are you even thinking about Arataki’s abs right now? “It’s not like I’m gonna force you to believe me, though. But I just want ya to know that gut feelings? Never wrong. Especially if it’s my gut doing all the talking.”

Can this guy be any more narcissistic? 

For the rest of the afternoon, though, even if you’re both preoccupied with the day’s orders, you can’t get Arataki’s weird presumptions out of your head. What did he mean Thoma has the hots for you? That guy? The same one that’s been head-over-heels for Ayaka for as long as you could remember? Well…you did find it a bit suspicious how he managed to keep his so-called feelings to himself for almost six years. You thought that Thoma was just that stubborn and afraid of rejection but…

“Yo, I’m timing out. That alright with you, master?”

Arataki promptly rouses you out of your musing a few minutes before closing time, already hanging the apron on the hook you stuck on one of the shelves. His chest is on full display again, and you sigh—feeling your face heat up under the expectation behind his crimson-eyed gaze. Dammit! It’s not your first time seeing a man’s chest, more so Arataki’s chest, is it? What’s gotten you so flustered today?

“When will you ever stop calling me that?” you ask instead, more to divert his attention than anything else. 

“When you stop being my master, of course,” Arataki replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world before heading over to the counter—checking out the caterpillar that’s sound asleep on a pile of leaves. “Do you know when he’s going to do, uh… the thing?”

You make a face. “What thing?”

“You know, when they coop up in a little body bag and hang themselves upside down? Like a mummy on Halloween.” 

“...Are you talking about metamorphosis?”

“That one! Whatever that is.”

You stifle a laugh behind your hand, making Arataki pout at you somewhat petulantly. “Sorry, sorry,” you snort. “Well, it usually takes butterfly larvae to form a chrysalis about two and a half weeks after hatching. It might take a while for your friend to do that, though. It’ll need lots of nutrition and adequate sunlight.”

Arataki nods. “Yeah, you lost me at Christmas list.”

“It's chrysalis.”

“Anyways, you sure you’re alright with looking after the guy?” he asks, leaning down to poke the side of the glass. “You did say caterpillars are pretty low maintenance.”

“If I let you take it to your office, it might not last a day,” you sigh. 

“Damn, you’re right. Hm… How about we name him?” 

You scowl at him almost too quickly. “You’re naming your pet caterpillar?”

“...Itto the Fourth! That’s his name.”

“What happened to Itto the Second and Itto the Third?” 

Arataki hollers at that. “You don’t want to know. They were the toughest onikabutos I’ve hunted in my life, thus the namesake, but alas, all great warriors fall in battle someday. But this little guy’s gonna get special treatment, since he has two parents taking care of him!”

“I don’t remember agreeing to any of that…”

“Oh, um by the way…” He suddenly takes on a meeker tone, scratching the back of his head as he rises back to his full height. This damn guy isn’t even giving you leeway to contest his outlandish decisions! And is it just you or is he way too quick to transition from idiot apprentice to serious gang leader these days?

“I might not come in tomorrow. And the day after that. Maybe the day after that, too. Could you watch over Itto the Fourth for me?” 

You contemplate his words for a moment, a bite of foreboding suddenly settling in the pit of your stomach. But then again, Arataki has made it this far in his life without fatally injuring himself or dying, right?

“Uh, sure. Just text me when you’re going back.”

His mouth hangs slightly agape, and you can see the pointed edges of his canines. “...Really? You’re just letting me off that easily?”

“I’m not a tyrant of an employer, you know?” you sigh, crossing your arms. “But…”

“But?”

You hesitate for a moment, remembering the conversation he and Shinobu had in front of you sometime ago. From what you could glean from their words, it seems that the Arataki gang’s boss is dealing with something big on the sidelines. Big enough to make even Shinobu worry about his well-being. You don’t really know much about the gang aside from the fact that they keep things in order around Hanamizaka (and take snacks and toys from kids, if Arataki can’t help it), so you can’t really guess what’s going on. But you can’t really bear the idea of Shinobu being put under more duress than she already is.

And you’ve seen, firsthand, how careless Arataki can be about his own safety. How he nearly bled out on the floor of this very same room. Even if he crashed his bike into your shop that time, your first instinct was to make sure he was alright. It’s no different now, when he’s seemingly toeing around something dangerous yet unspeakable.

“Take care out there, yeah?” you say. “Don’t give us any more reasons to look out for you, you big, lumbering moron.”

You expect him to balk at the insult in his typical, Arataki Itto fashion, but what you get instead is a reaction you’d never expect to see on his face. His broad shoulders seem to relax at your words, and the ghost of a smile settles across his lips—making a familiar feeling stir in your chest all over again.

“Kinda feels nice knowing lots’a people are looking out for me,” Arataki admits, the high of his cheeks tinged red. “But you all don’t have to worry on my behalf, honest! I’m a pretty tough guy, you know? These fists pack one hell of a punch!”  

“Yeah, yeah. You can stop flattering yourself now,” you scoff. “Go on. Won’t you be late to this prior commitment of yours?”

“I’m going, I’m going!” he laughs. “Bye, master! Bye, Mikan!”

You jolt when you feel your tabby rubbing her soft body against your leg, mewling as if to return Arataki’s farewell. As your apprentice makes his way out of the shop, you pick Mikan off the floor and into your arms. But for some reason, you stay rooted in place until Arataki’s figure eventually disappears into the evening crowd. 

Things have quieted a bit since Arataki’s impromptu leave.

You don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about it, but when the thought occurs, you’re reminded of the fact that it feels a little lonely without his usual racket. Even the customers who’ve just started getting used to his domineering presence are curious of his whereabouts. 

“It’s not everyday you see little Arataki wearing an adorable apron,” Amane comments with a smile when she places another order for her late husband’s bouquet. “But in the end, he’s still a gang leader, huh? I hope he isn’t stirring up trouble wherever he is.”

“‘Arataki’ and ‘trouble’ are more synonymous than you think, Amane-san,” you laugh, manually writing up a receipt for her. The damn register is busted today. “But I’m sure he’ll be fine. He just needs a few days off.”

She nods along. “I’ll be needing a few days off too, after you’ve trained me down to the bone! Who would’ve known a cute florist like you can tame someone like him?”

“Uh…” Shinobu’s face flits to the forefront of your mind. “Let’s just say I’ve had some inspiration.”

After working on Amane’s usual arrangement, you accommodated a couple more orders you’ve gotten from a couple of reservation calls. Business today is slower than usual, so you didn’t necessarily have to work your ass off arranging all sorts of bouquets. But once you’ve temporarily closed the store for a quick lunch break, you find yourself basking in the ear-splitting silence of the empty flower shop. 

It’s only been two days, but the lonesome you’ve grown comfortable with before meeting Arataki suddenly feels all sorts of foreign. He’s only started working here for no more than two weeks. Why do you suddenly feel so…alienated in your own store?

Shinobu still comes by when she’s free, albeit not having you decorate the usual vase she used to bring along a few weeks ago. She didn’t need to buy any flowers, since her boss spends a chunk of his time working here anyways. Even if you told him he only needs to work at least four hours a day, the stubborn gang leader always insists on doing full shifts. You were a little concerned how his presence here might affect the Arataki Gang, but it seems that he’s already taking care of that right now.

You take a moment to observe the jar that’s been hanging around the counter for the past two days. Yesterday, you took the liberty to place a small, slightly sturdy twig you found at the park in case Itto the Fourth felt like knitting his own ‘little body bag’, as your apprentice so-delicately called it.

When you came down to check on him earlier this morning, you were surprised to see a silk white chrysalis hanging from one of the higher points of the branch. It’s been a while since you’ve seen a metamorphosing butterfly up close, so you’re nothing short of amazed. 

It kind of sucks that Arataki isn’t here to see it, though.

“Mrow.”

Mikan glances up at you curiously from her perch on one of the high shelves, seemingly attuned to the unusual mood you’re in. You sigh, pressing your knees to your chest as you lean further into the swiveling seat. Gods, if you breathe deep enough, you can still catch a whiff of that atrocious body spray that Arataki practically bathes in everyday sticking to the upholstery.

“Mrow…”

“What?” you ask exasperatedly, glancing at Mikan as her tail swishes behind her. “It’s not like I’m worried about him or anything.”

She doesn’t make another sound after that, but you can almost hear her say: Yeah, right. Stupid cats, and their stupid, superior emotional perception… 

All these intrusive thoughts, however, are interrupted by the sound of your phone buzzing. You fish it from the pocket in front of your apron, only to come face-to-face with a message from Thoma.

Thoma [12:45]: Heyy, Ayaka’s asking if you wanna have dinner with us later

Thoma [12:46]: Me, her, and Ayatoヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰

Me [12:47]: Huhhh Ayato is back ?

Thoma [12:50]: Yeah! His business trip took ages but he's back 

Thoma [12:51]: He already reserved a table at Komore Teahouse & everything (╥﹏╥)

Thoma [12:51]: Wanna come with?

Had your conversation happened a week ago, you would’ve accepted in a heartbeat. Thoma and Ayaka have been your constants during college, but Ayato played a huge part in making all your road trips and out-of-town excursions possible. He may be diligent with his work, but he isn’t above spoiling his little sister and her friends every now and again. 

But when you remember what Arataki said about Thoma and that baseless gut feeling of his…

You shake your head. You’re the one who’s known Thoma for half a decade, not him. As if you’re going to let the assumptions of a pesky gang leader change the way you see one of your best friends!

Me [12:55]: Sure, what time are we meeting up?

You’re not usually one to doll up for a dinner date with your friends. Jeans and an old university pullover usually did the trick. But you tell yourself that it’s because Ayato’s going to be in attendance as well that you’re pitching in some effort into tonight’s fit. Definitely not because you have a weird compulsion to look good in front of Thoma after Arataki’s weird tip.

And…besides!! You’ve been wanting to use the blouse and skirt you thrifted a few weeks ago, but just haven’t had the time nor the occasion to use it. It’d be such a waste to let them gather cobwebs in your closet when you’re given a sound opportunity, right?

Mikan looks oddly supportive of your ‘dolling-up’ escapade, too. As you concentrate on making sure the wings of your eyeliner are even on both sides, she sits quietly on top of your vanity. You like to think that she might’ve been cheering you on in the silence.

“How’s it look?” you ask, grinning at yourself in the mirror. Oh, the lipstick shade you picked is absolutely stunning, too. “Man, I should really do this more often, huh?”

“Meow~”

After a few final touches to both your hair and makeup, you’re pretty much good to go. But when you check the time on your phone, you realize that you don’t have to show up at the teahouse for at least one more hour. Sighing, you plop yourself back on top of your mattress to send a quick text to Thoma. 

Well, that was the plan until you hear the distant sound of hurried knocking beyond your bedroom.

This makes you frown a little. You closed up shop earlier than usual because of the plans you made with Thoma and the Kamisato siblings. And you usually never get calls and orders beyond working hours anyways. 

Mikan is already one step ahead of you as she hops down the spiral staircase leading to the shop. You carefully maneuver each step, not wanting to ruin your nice outfit by accidentally falling off the stairs. But when you make it to the ground floor, you’re struck by an odd sense of déjà vu. Like this particular scenario already played out the very same way before.

When you undo all the locks to the shop’s front entrance, you realize why that’s the case.

“Hey,” Arataki greets casually, hands shoved into his pockets as he grins. Oddly enough, he isn’t wearing his usual, traditional get-up. Instead, the gang boss is donned with a dark black coat that’s buttoned up all the way. “You’re lookin’ pretty good, master. Got a date with destiny or something?”

You blink, nonplussed by his sudden presence after two days of radio silence. He hasn’t even sent you a single text, and he just suddenly shows up at your doorstep like this? 

“You can say that.” A pause. “What are you doing here, Arataki?”

He steps into the shop with muddy boots. You have half the mind to tell him off for tracking dirt when you just finished mopping the floor. But the words promptly die on your tongue when Arataki leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. 

“...Arataki?”

The gang boss breathes out a shaky laugh, his breath fanning across the bare skin of neck. You can feel patches of gooseflesh prickle across your shoulders from the sensation—rendering you completely stock still. 

“Say, we’ve been working pretty tight these past two weeks, huh?”

You feel your own breath hitch as each steady vibration of his voice reverberates onto your skin. “What are you—”

“But you haven’t even called me by my first name at all,” Arataki sighs before slumping further into your grasp. As big as a guy he is, he can easily topple the both of you over if you aren’t careful, so you reflexively let your hands coil around his massive torso, forcing him to stand upright. What the hell is wrong with him? Is he drunk or—

Suddenly, you feel a warm, damp patch against your fingers. That same sense of foreboding that struck you the moment Arataki asked for a quick leave strikes you down once again—amplified about a hundred times over. 

“Hey, master. Can you do a few things for me?” 

Your heart is beating erratically in your chest, and you’re hyper aware of the brisk manner in which he draws each breath. “What?”

Arataki laughs, one arm snaking around your waist as his free hand cards through your hair. “The first is, don’t take me to the hospital. Second, don’t contact Shinobu or any of my boys.”

“But you’re hurt—”

“And the third is…” He trails off for a moment, and you feel the pressure of his weight ease a little when he rises to look at your face. Arataki’s blood red eyes are glazed over in that same, injured delirium they were the first time you met him—staring at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

(Distantly, you wonder if he can ever look at you like that when he isn’t all fucked up like this.)

“I want you to start callin’ me by my first name. I’m your…apprentice after all.”

You let out a frustrated groan as you grab both of his shoulders, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Arataki, I don’t know what the hell you’ve been doing out there, but I need to take you to the—”

“Say it.”

“Stop being so difficult! Why are you bleeding? Did someone stab you or—”

“Say it,” he repeats, grabbing your chin as he rests his forehead against yours. This close, you can make out the intricate red lines that run down his face, like blood red teardrops leaving a crimson trail in their wake. Even the curve of his mouth is open to your perusal, making you gulp as you shove down the urge to ogle him in spite of his condition.

You know you shouldn’t prolong the time he isn’t receiving any first aid. You also know that you should’ve broken free from his grasp and dialed Shinobu’s number stat. 

And yet…

“Itto,” you murmur, feeling your own tongue tingle at the syllables of his name. “Please let me treat you. You’re hurt.”

Arataki keeps his silence for about three, stuttering heartbeats before he collapses back into your arms. You yelp, forcing all of your body weight against his to keep yourself from falling to the floor. He sighs so deeply, like he’s the one being terribly inconvenienced, that it makes you want to punch him in the face.

But when he cages you within the warmth of those strong arms, you can find it in you to complain.

“...S’good enough for me.”

Me [20:14]: Hey, Thoma? I’m sorry something came up. I can’t make it tonight.

Me [20:15]: I’ll make it up to all of you soon, I promise!!

Me [20:15]: Btw, you STILL owe me for the last bouquet you gave Ayaka. Don’t think I forgot.

Me [20:20]: Uh, anyways I gotta go. Tell the siblings I missed them lots, okay? Have fun!

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 04 ⟢

revealing someone else’s tragic backstory is NOT cool, okay? 

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, thoma, kamisato ayaka, kamisato ayato

★ WARNINGS; blood and injury

★ HEADER ART CR; akaneyal

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

About half a bottle of antiseptic and a futile search for first aid tutorials later, you afford yourself a breather.

The floor is cold against your legs when you finish securing the gauze around Arataki—uh, Itto’s—chest. Your heart races as you wipe the sweat off your face, half-wondering if you did any more bad than good. Because even if you’ve taken a couple of bandaging lessons for fun in college, you never would’ve thought you had to use the information in real life; more so to patch up an unsuspecting gang leader, of all people. 

Thankfully, the man in question is out cold, snoring softly on top of your sofa which is a bit too small to accommodate someone of his stature. Itto promptly passed out after his strange chain of requests and you aren’t sure if it’s fear for his safety or an adrenaline rush that helped you drag this six-foot-something idiot up to your apartment. Whatever it was, it wore off the moment you stepped onto the second floor, and your poor couch was the only comfortable surface in the vicinity. 

But, hey, it’s a better alternative than dumping him in your bedroom, right? Now that would be weird—mysteriously injured or not. Speaking of injuries, though…

Once you managed to pry the stuffy coat off him, you practically gasped at the sight of Itto’s beaten bloody back. You assumed he got stabbed when he walked into the shop, but the sight that beheld you confirmed that this was more than just a small-time squabble. With careful yet trembling hands, you swiftly cleaned up the blood that threatened to stain your sofa—heart aching every time Itto seemingly winced in his sleep. 

Some cuts ran deeper than the rest, but not to the point where he’d need stitches, thank Archons. But while you disinfected the wounds, you noticed not all of them were new. Between those angry red gashes were occasional patches of scarred flesh—the raised, discolored skin a stark contrast against the rippling muscles of Itto’s bare back. 

You could only wonder what sort of mess he got himself entangled in.

In the present, a long, long sigh flees your lips, getting up on shaky feet as you move to clean up the mess of gauze and bandages you left on the coffee table. Mikan has been your quiet audience all this time—green eyes never leaving the unconscious gang leader in your living room. You wonder if she’s gotten attached enough to Itto for her not to prance around like usual. But you can almost ask yourself the same thing with how diligently you’ve tended to his injuries. However, before you can even dispose of the bloodied cotton swabs in the bin, a rather intrusive thought occurs to you.

Why did Itto choose to go to you? 

Alright, maybe he didn’t want any of his boys to worry. But surely he could trust at least one of them about…whatever the hell he was dealing with? Like…like Haru! He seems like a reliable guy—more put-together than most gangsters. Hell, you’re even ninety percent sure that Shinobu will forgive him for all of this after a thorough scolding, before proceeding to take care of him like usual. 

From the (relatively) short time you spent living in Hanamizaka, you can tell that the Arataki Gang is fiercely loyal to their boss. But despite that, Itto still decided that this was the place to be as he trudged around sporting all those wounds…

A sharp cry startles you out of your reverie, and it’s a good thing the garbage bin is there to catch the disposables in your hands. You belatedly realize that the sound came from the door to your small balcony—shortly followed by the sound of something shattering into a dozen pieces. Your heart drops to your stomach. Was that a burglar?

You cast a glance towards Mikan, whose ears are perked up in rapt attention, but she isn’t hissing at the intruder at all. Usually, she’s the one who can sense when things are amiss around the house, even back when you still lived with your parents. And yet…?

Your mind presents you with a couple of possibilities. One: it was a burglar. Or two: it was the person who hurt Itto trying to track him down. 

Huh. You never thought you’d see the day where you nearly prayed for an ordinary house robbery instead.

You half-considered just ignoring it. But your gut is screaming for you to make sure everything is in the clear. After all, you had a recovering patient in your damn living room. Damn it! Is this what they call motherly instinct or something?

“You owe me so goddamn much, Arataki Itto,” you grumble, grabbing an umbrella from the rack by your front door. It’s better than meeting whatever it is out there unarmed, right? Breathing in deep, you stride over to the balcony with clammy hands, not letting the dread get to you as you swing the door open with a loud cry—

—only to be greeted with another loud cry in return. 

“AAAAHH! Boss lady, don’t kill me!”

A scowl roots itself on your face as you lower your weapon. “...Tora?”

You aren’t even sure if you remember his name right, but this was definitely the same kid that tried to intimidate you out of your own property a few weeks earlier. He’s lying on his ass on the metal railing—the soil from one of your (formerly) potted sweet flowers making a mess out of his varsity jacket. He glances up at you with equal parts fear and surprise, and you wonder why you even worried in the first place.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper. “How did you even get up here?”

Tora swallows hard, awkwardly patting off the dirt off his clothes. “Uh. That’s a secret.”

“You do know I can call the authorities and report you for trespassing, right?”

“Wha—? Noooo! Boss lady, I’m too freakin’ young to go to jail!” he flounders. 

You sigh, setting the umbrella against the door panel as you cross your arms. “And why are you calling me that?

“‘Cause you're the boss’ boss?” 

Silence envelops the two of you for a moment—nothing but the distant traffic and the whisper of the evening breeze filling your ears. You consider Tora’s words as your brain slowly pieces together the facts at hand.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been following him…” you mumble, shooting a look over your shoulder to make sure Itto is still inside. Fortunately, your patient is yet to move a muscle. When your gaze flits back to Tora, your first instinct is to look for any similar injuries, but it seems that he was more or less fine.

Tora scratches the back of his head, laughing uneasily. “Um, I’ve been tellin’ Haru-nii and the rest that something was real fishy about the boss these days. Even Shinobu-san noticed! But she’s too busy to look into it right now, so…”

Shinobu? So she was aware of Itto’s shifty behavior, too. It makes sense why she might not have been able to look into her boss’ inner turmoils at the moment, but—

“That doesn’t mean you can just expose yourself to danger like that,” you scold. “Itto’s injuries aren’t deadly, but he could only take it because he’s— he’s Itto. What if you’d been on the receiving end, what then?”

You have absolutely no idea why you were lecturing a kid you barely know but… You’re fucking tired of the people around you risking their necks for no good reason. It’s bad enough that Itto does as he pleases without thinking of the repercussions, but to think that Tora has been tailing him all this time! Way to set an example for the younger generation, you stupid gang lea—

“...But I finally found out who’s been messin’ with him, boss lady.”

That makes you pause again. Gods, just how long has Tora been following him? Does this mean he knows who did that to Itto? You aren’t sure if witness reports from high schoolers are taken seriously, but Tora’s accounts should have some weight to them, right?

“If you’re thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, you should give it up,” he says, getting back to his feet with a placid look. “These guys have been harassing us for a good while, but the Tenryou Commission ain’t doin’ crap about it. Even if we’re considered Hanamizaka’s watch dogs now, they still think little of the Arataki Gang. I bet those guys even think we deserve it…”

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt. “Who are we talking about again? And if they’ve been breathing down your necks all this time, why’d you only realize they were going after Itto now?” 

Tora hesitates but in the end, breathes out a sigh in surender. “It’s…the Inazuman yakuza.”

The words settle over you with a moment’s delay—disbelief overshadowing everything else. You’ve only heard about the yakuza in passing, but you didn’t think they were this hostile.  

“They don't take very well to people who might try to upset the balance of power or whatever,” he continues. “I think that those guys see the boss as a major threat, but he’s never once given in to their blackmailing! That’s the leader of the Arataki Gang for you—never losing face! But…”

Tora doesn’t even have to speak further for you to understand.

Itto is as proud as any foolhardy idiot can get. It’s definitely going to take more than a few bouts of blackmail to make a stubborn man like him budge. Something must have happened for him to surrender to their whims like this. Did they get their hands on the right leverage? One important enough to make him run around behind the Arataki gang’s backs?

You wonder if he was subjected to the same, harsh treatment the night you first met him—already suffering from a concussion as he quite literally crashed into your life. For a while, you chalked up your previous encounters to something that occured on the regular within the Arataki Gang, and that you’re just someone unlucky enough to be caught up in the mess. But now that Tora brought the matter of the yakuza into the light, you realize that none of this is normal at all. 

Kazuha’s warning comes to mind yet again—about how the Arataki Gang has some sort of conflict with another group. You want to know if your delivery boy was just downplaying the yakuza or he genuinely had no idea.

It’s been roughly three weeks since Itto started working for you, yet you never noticed anything that could’ve been bothering him. Has he been shouldering the burden alone all this time?

“Look,” you start, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Do you have any clue why he’s letting them, I don’t know, haze him like this? He’s definitely not the type to stand by and take a beating like that.”

There it is again—the look on Tora’s face that tells you he knows the answer, but doesn’t want to say it. But from the short time you’ve spoken to the kid, you realize he’s quite easy to pressure. 

“Come on, not even a hint?” You pout. “I’m your boss’ boss, right? Technically, that makes me your boss, too~”

“Aghh! Darn it!” Tora cries out, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. “H-How about I start with a fairy tale?”

“A fairy tale?”

He nods.  Do you know the story about the red and blue oni?”

You process his words for a moment, recalling the times your dad read you bedtime stories growing up. There’s a vague recollection of a children’s tale about oni in there, and you ask aloud just to make sure.

“Um, is it one where the red oni wants to be friends with humans?” 

“Yeah, bingo.”

You frown. “But what does that have to do with Itto…?” 

“Absolutely nothing.”

Both you and Tora nearly jolted over the railing at the sound of a groggy yet familiar voice. You shouldn’t even be surprised that Itto is up and about now, with how quickly he regained consciousness back at the hospital. He even has a cigarette wedged between his lips, clumsy hands fumbling with his lighter as he tries to ignite the tobacco. 

“Boss!” Tora practically shrieks, scrambling for something in the pocket of his jacket. “Y-You know what Shinobu-san said about smoking! Cut it out!”

You can only scowl as Tora, a lanky teenager, knocks the cancer stick out of Itto’s mouth—thrusting an unwrapped lollipop between his blood-red eyes. It seems that you and him share the same degree of surprise because Itto doesn’t even balk at him for doing something so bold. To your further disbelief, the damn boss just plucks it out of Tora’s hands with a sheepish smile.

“Yeah, I keep forgetting about that,” Itto groans, taking off the plastic before popping the candy into his mouth. “Anyway, you better get going. Your pops might be looking for you.”

“But—”

“Tora, I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

You’re slightly baffled by the authoritative tone in Itto’s voice—one you’d never really heard him speak. But at the end of the day, he’s still the boss of the Arataki Gang. No matter how much of a ditz he acts around you and your shop, it would make sense for him to show a bit more tact in front of his boys. But then, Tora’s shoulders slump sulkily as he moves to climb over the railing of your balcony— Wait a minute.

“Thanks for taking care of him, boss lady.” He smiles over his shoulder. “The Arataki Gang owes you one.”

“Oi, Tora,” Itto calls out gruffly once again, taking out the lollipop from his lips before pointing it at the younger boy. “Not a single word about this to the others, got that? This… This is my story to tell.”

Tora sighs, bending his knees together before you can even ask him to get down from there, idiot! You might fall—

You couldn’t even get a single word out before Tora leapt from the second floor and into the alley below. 

A scream lodges itself into your throat—one you’re too shocked to articulate. Scrambling closer to the edge, you nearly fling your upper body forward just to make sure Tora was alright, but in the dim street lamps that line the back street, you realize that the kid more or less landed gracefully on his feet, patting down his jacket before walking away like nothing happened.

The metal floor beneath your feet groans at the weight of another person, and you realize that Itto crouched down to gather the soil scattered across the surface. The stick of candy dangles on the side of his mouth as he salvages the poor sweet flower Tora accidentally unpotted, but of course your mind decides to focus on something else entirely. 

Now that the prior adrenaline rush is long gone, you’re able to take a better look at Itto even in the scarce light. You notice how he’s keeping his movements uncharacteristically limited, like he cares not to rupture any of the wounds you treated. And as your eyes rake across the rest of his muscular torso, you can’t help but admire the bright red tattoos across his chest and arms. You always found the design a little odd, but you wonder if the patterns hold any real meaning behind them.

“Hey,” you start, awkwardly stepping over the pot fragments Itto is gathering in one place. “Is it true that—”

“Master, I got this,” Itto laughs softly, clapping the dirt off his hands before flashing you a bright smile. “Whatever that kid said to you, you don’t have to worry. I’m a tough nut to crack, remember?”

You hesitate. “You don’t have to deal with that alone, you know? I know a couple of people who have close ties with the Tenryou Commission. I’m sure they can help you sort out whatever that is better than the way you’re dealing with it now.” Yeah, that’s right. If you recall correctly, Ayato and Kujou Sara—the superintendent’s daughter—worked close together when they attended college a couple years ahead of you. Calling in a few favors won’t hurt. Probably.

“Heh. Don’t sweat it.” He rises back to his feet, nearly towering over you with that ridiculous stature. “I’m dead sure Shinobu can solve this entire thing on her own if I just told her, but… I hope you understand this is something I gotta do myself. Call it the, uh, pride of my ancestors or something.”

…Pride of his ancestors?

“No.” You cross your arms together. “I refuse to sit idly by, knowing you’re getting your ass beat by the yakuza on purpose. Or are you really just that terrible in a fight, huh, Arataki Itto?”

Now that garners the reaction you wanted and didn’t both at the same time. “What did you say? Hey, you may be my master, but I’m not just gonna stand around and take that slander lying down!” Itto scowls, bracing his palms across his hips. “I’ll have you know that I go by many names! Arataki “The One and Oni” Itto, Arataki “The Ultimate TCG Champion” Itto, Arataki “Beetle Gladiator” Itto, Arataki—”

“Are you done?” you groan.

“I’m not,” he says, clearing his throat obnoxiously loud. “Arataki “The Pride of Oni” Itto, Arataki “The Oni King of Hanamizaka” Itto, Arataki—” 

“Look, if you shut up right now, I’m going to order us take out. My treat.”

He gasps, even clasping a hand over his mouth in faux-disbelief. “You really mean that, master? Man, I just remembered I haven’t eaten since yesterday!”

You scowl at him. What the fuck has this man been doing all this time? “Only if you cut it out with your endless list of names and promise not to get involved with the yakuza anymore.” 

“Ah…” Itto’s million-watt grin suddenly flickers out. “Umm, can we go with a less demanding trade? Like walking your cat for a month or something?”

As if on cue, Mikan mewls from the doorway—blinking up the both of you before licking her paw. Why does it seem like she liked Itto’s proposition…? Wait, you are not going to let him talk you out of this!

“No can do,” you reply indifferently, investing yourself in the state of your nails. “If word gets around that my helper is in cahoots with the yakuza, it’ll make business bad for me.”

“Well, you can always just fire me, you know?”

The moment the words come out of his mouth, you feel like he just sucker punched you in the gut. You freeze on the spot, gaze going frigid at the nonchalant manner Itto uttered the suggestion. 

In retrospect, he was totally right. You managed to hold things down around the shop before he even came into your life, so what difference would it make when he left? You’ll even be liberated from the unwitting role of gang leader caretaker once he’s completely out of your hair! Taking in a ruffian like Itto, even if it’s just to pay back a moral debt his gang owes you, would stir up more trouble than you’d ever willingly bargain for. 

…But why is the idea of never seeing him again making your stomach turn?

“Y-You still haven’t done sufficient service for the stunt you pulled in the shop,” you stammer, ignoring the way your cheeks grew hot. “Besides, I’m not an idiot who’ll willingly let a good asset go just like that.”

For a moment, the air shifts between the two of you, and when you meet Itto’s gaze you notice that his usual cheer is blanketed by something else—something just a touch melancholic… Why is he looking at you like that? He’s the one who spoke like he was all-too willing to give up his job here for his scuffle with the goddamn yakuza. Suddenly, you recall how he spoke about your line of work when he was still confined at the hospital; how he seemed so against ‘taking care of a bunch of plants’. 

Like hell this guy is going to miss working for you…

“Asset, huh?” Itto repeats with a chuckle before twirling his lollipop around. “I guess that’s one way of putting it. But we’ll never see eye-to-eye like this, so I’m going to ask: is there any other way I can stay in your good graces without sacrificing my pride as an oni?”

“...Oni?” you ask. 

Now that he mentioned it, Itto did sneak that word into his many names a couple of times. Although, you assumed he was just saying all that ironically. Sure, the man was built leagues different compared to a handful of the guys you’ve met thus far, but oni are mythical creatures. They don’t exist in modern day Inazuma!

Right?

From the way Itto is looking at you with a dead-serious look in his usually carefree eyes, you can’t help but swallow the lump in your throat. But he’s being really obtuse about all of this. You can’t even stop yourself from uttering your next few words if you tried.

“Itto, don’t tell me you’re a kinnie…”

A few seconds pass in incredibly awkward silence before Itto asks, “A what?”

“A kinnie,” you reiterate, coughing into your fist when you realize you’re about to have a very unpleasant conversation. “People who identify as a certain…character they have similarities with. It’s all the rage on social media these days.”

“Character?” he continues in disbelief. “Like kanji or hiragana? That stuff?” 

“Fictional characters, Itto!” you groan for the millionth time tonight, and—GODDAMMIT! Why are you even explaining kin culture to someone with the online presence of a caveman?

(Context: during the time Itto spent off the clock, you looked him up on your socials to see if he put up any profiles as a means of checking on him. Of course you weren’t able to find him anywhere—not on Instagram, not on Facebook. Archons, even your grandparents use Facebook!)

“Oh well, whatever that is, I ain’t letting you leave if you don’t gimme an answer,” Itto huffs. “I repeat: what else can I do so you don’t have to worry so much?” 

You feel uneasy under the weight of his expectant stare because… What could you possibly ask? Moreover, who are you to ask anything of Itto in the first place? He’s already repaying his dues by working here, so you should really just stick your nose out of his private business. But…

“If you can’t let Shinobu and the gang know what you’re up to,” you begin, afraid he might hear how your voice shook with each word. “Can you at least let me know that you’re alive? That those yakuza bastards haven’t dumped your cold body down a river or something?”

Itto blinks, once, twice, before speaking. “That’s it? You just want me to keep you posted?”

“Of course I do!” you exclaim, but when you realize how the words echoed loudly around the area, you tame your voice into a softer tone. “It’s normal for an employer to look after their trainees, right?” 

Mikan meows in agreement, stepping into the balcony as she curls around Itto’s leg. He glances at her, lips upturned into a fond smile that makes your chest feel weird. Then again, Arataki Itto has always incited the strangest sensations since you met him. If he’s going to stick around longer, you’re going to have to get used to it.

“Alright, it’s a deal,” he sighs, leaning down to cradle Mikan in his arms. “I think I’m gonna miss this little troublemaker over here if I end up kicking the bucket.” 

“Only Mikan?” you joke.

“Hm? Of course, I’ll miss you the most, master.”

You expect him to follow that up with his contagious laughter—one that’ll assure you that he doesn’t really mean it; that it’s not that deep. But the sound never comes, and Itto simply gazes at you in quiet observation. His twilight red irises seem to glint in the darkness, and you wonder if you’ve ever been looked at the same way before…

“You really are just like Ranpo-dono,” he chuckles so softly, you barely hear it. “Pretendin’ you don’t care all that much when you really do.”

...What? Are the two of you thinking of the same person? Because you don’t remember a time in your life when you weren’t doted on by your father. Takahashi Ranpo is a grossly affectionate dad, so what could Itto be on about?

But then again, the nostalgic ring to his voice sounds all too real. It surprises you more than it should. You knew that Itto probably met your father at least once before, but when your dad told you that he wasn’t familiar with the gang leader on a personal level, you decided to brush it off until now. Your father with a ridiculous you-complex couldn’t have possibly lied about that, right?

“Ah, I’m starving,” Itto sulks, rubbing his stomach as if to prove his point. “Aren’t you raring for some good takeout, too, master? Seems like I interrupted a dinner date.” 

He says the words while gesturing at your attire, and—ah, fuck. You’d been so busy treating his wounds, you forgot to change out of your clothes. Now, the neatly pressed blouse you were supposed to wear to your dinner with the Kamisatos was rumpled and just a little bit sweaty on the inside. Itto did not have to know that, though.

“Anyways,” you interject, fearing he might ask who you were supposed to go out with. “You want food from Uyuu Restaurant or Shimura’s?”

He shrugs, tickling Mikan’s stomach as he turns around and heads back inside. “Anything’s fine, as long as it isn’t prison food. Now that stuff’s even worse than hospital food.”

The damn guy… He’s already baby-talking to Mikan before you can even interrogate his supposed experience with eating food in prison! Amane told you the Arataki Gang were a bunch of good guys at heart, but did you unknowingly hire a notorious criminal after all?!

At this point, you don’t even want to ask him anymore.

While you and Itto bicker about your food choices on the landline down at the shop—Shimura’s only accepts deliveries from their direct hotline—your smartphone remains unattended on the coffee table upstairs. Mikan hops onto the surface, tail swishing curiously as the screen lights up with a few text notifications.

Ayato [23:17]: hi~ it’s been a while, hasn’t it? 

Ayato [23:17]: the three of us are headed over to your place, hope you don’t mind :)

Ayato [23:18]: i was worried when thoma said you couldn’t make it, you know :T

Ayato [23:20]: we’ll be there in twenty minutes, hope you have some midnight snacks!

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 02 ⟢

what resumé? i'm hiring myself as your number one helper!

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, kuki shinobu, thoma

★ NOTES; this is the fic that i started before we even got itto as a playable character, and the same one i have Yet to finish two years since his release lmfao i hope you enjoy what i have so far!

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

You slide the door behind you when you arrive at your parents’ house—breathing in the familiar scent of leftover incense with a sigh. 

“I’m home,” you call out, and you vaguely hear your mother respond with a distant, Welcome back! from the kitchen. You’re quick to slip off your shoes by the entrance before padding further inside.

“Just in time for lunch,” your mother says with a smile, ladle in hand as she stirs a pot of savory curry on the stove. “I was a bit worried about the text you sent. Is your friend alright? You said he had a concussion.”

The way she addressed Arataki as your ‘friend’ makes a chill run across the length of your spine. Last night isn’t the first time you’ve had to watch over someone at the hospital (your father is quite the regular patient himself). But having to do so for a certain gang boss with the social adeptness of a bake-danuki pushed your saintlike patience to the limits. It’s a good thing Shinobu arrived before you could strangle him to death.

“Yeah,” you tell her dryly. “His, uh, sister’s looking after him now.”

“That’s good, that’s good.” She grins. “Can you set the table and call your father, dear? He’s fixing a leak in the roof even if I told him you’re coming over. You know how he is.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Sure do.”

Being back home, despite your prior insistence to move out, slightly abates the negative energy you’ve accumulated earlier today. But no matter how nice the curry smells, and how sweetly your mother smiles at you, they aren’t exactly enough to make you forget the proposition offered to you this morning.

It’s ten minutes to seven when Arataki nudges you awake for the fifth time. You glare at him from your seat, noticing that you’ve developed a stiff neck overnight. “What do you want now?”

“Nothing,” he says, yet the intensity of his gaze tells otherwise. And despite having little to no sleep for the past few hours, Arataki looks irritatingly chipper. “I just realized that you’ve been listening to me blab about Onikabuto Royale championships for hours but I don’t even know your name yet. Shinobu asked you to stay here, right, nee-chan?”

You huff, getting back to your feet to ease the cricks in both your neck and joints. It takes you a while to dig for your phone in your pocket, but when you do, you read through a message Shinobu sent about half an hour ago. 

Shinobu [06:25]: I’m on my way, I hope he didn’t bother you too much

“You don’t even know the person who rents out your gang’s commercial space?” you question Arataki as you type a quick OK to Shinobu. “And, to clarify, she didn’t ask me to do this, I offered.” 

Arataki sits in silence for a few moments—looking especially skeptical of your answer. Though you don’t really have the time to chide him for it because you notice that the bag of IV fluid hanging next to his bed is about to run out. You’re planning to walk over to the nearby nurse’s station, but then you feel a large hand enclosing your wrist—tugging you back with enough force to rid you of whatever sleepiness lingered in your mind.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you hiss, attempting to yank your arm back, but Arataki’s grip remains iron-tight. “I’m going to tell the nurses to replace your IV. You don’t want air getting into your veins, right?”

“I’ve been told I have lots of that in my head,” Arataki mumbles, and you wonder if he’s aware that he just insulted himself. “But, whatever. What happened last night… It’s all on me. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious.” You roll your eyes. “You’ve been bothering me all night, yet you never told me what happened before that stunt you pulled in my shop. So are you going to spill, or am I just going to list you off as a big nuisance again?”

You probably shouldn’t be talking to your landlord in such a demeaning way. But any normal person would plead insanity after being subject to Arataki’s tendency to be a blabbermouth. All in a span of one night, you were lectured about trivial things you’d otherwise never give the time of day. From the different onikabuto breeds to the best instant yakisoba you can find in a convenience store—his reservoir of useless knowledge knows no bounds. 

It’s no wonder Shinobu looks older than she actually is. Listening to this guy drone on for hours on end probably took five years off your own lifespan, too.

“...You’re Ranpo-dono’s kid, right?”

The moment you feel Arataki’s hold loosen, you’re quick to detach yourself from him—lightly rubbing the spot where his fingers dug into your skin. Excessive force aside, you flash him a perplexed look.

How does Arataki know your dad?

“I don’t see why you need to know that,” you grumble. “Anyways, if you don’t have anything important to say—”

“Sorry I’m late!”

Right on cue, Shinobu ducks behind the partition curtains—still wearing last night’s clothes. Her backpack is nowhere in sight, so you assumed she might’ve dropped it off at home first before going here. Wordlessly, she marches right up to Arataki’s bed and glowers at him. You’ve been giving the guy the same look every time he tried to wake you up, though, which makes you think Shinobu’s intimidation might not be that effective. 

But, as if you haven’t been surprised enough for the last twenty-four hours, Arataki shakily pulls the covers up to his face.  

“Itto,” Shinobu begins, a vein popping on her head. “What mess did you get yourself into this time?” 

He coughs up a nervous laugh. “What do you mean? I was, uh, driving under the influence is all! Don’t be furious, Shinobu. It’s not like I killed anyone.”

“That’s not what the doctor told me.” She narrows her eyes. “And you dealt enough damage to that flower shop that the charges might be on-par with manslaughter if they decide to press any.” Shinobu thrusts a finger in your direction, making you gulp nervously. This is the first time you’ve seen her so expressive. “So you better have a good excuse for this, or I’m going to tie you to your office chair for the rest of your life.”

“Now, now. Don’t be like that!” Arataki pouts, giving you the horrifying image of a big-hulking man trying to look adorable. “How about this? I’ll tell you and the boys everything once I get out of this joint, and you can talk my ear off all you want after.”

Shinobu shakes her head, folding her arms over her chest. “Not enough, Itto. You’re starting to act reckless again. How am I so sure you’re not going to do the same thing behind my back?”

“Um…”

“That’s what I thought.”

Just listening to their conversation, you’re starting to feel a bit sorry for Shinobu now. On top of dealing with her final requirements until graduation, she’s stuck dealing with an insufferable boss. Imagining how she must’ve been holding up all this time gives you the jitters. You barely even managed one night looking after the guy!

“...and that’s why I want to strike a deal with you.”

It takes you a moment to realize that Shinobu is talking to you, and not her sorry excuse of a superior. She’s wearing the same, firm smile she always flashes every time she buys flowers from your shop. But despite Shinobu’s inviting demeanor, something tells you you’re not going to like what she’s about to say. 

With that, Shinobu clears her throat. “In line with our boss, Arataki Itto’s, unbecoming behavior—”

“Hey!”

“—I’d like you to consider letting the Arataki Gang offer you compensation. We’ll try our best to, ah, replace and repair everything that got destroyed. We’re also going to assign one of ours to help you out in your shop until you can manage on your own.” 

“...One of yours?” you ask. “Sorry, but who might that be?”

The deputy of the Arataki Gang takes your question in stride—lips twitching into an uncharacteristic smirk. You should’ve walked out right then and there.

“What better helper to have aside from the same man who caused you all this trouble in the first place?” Shinobu chuckles. “In other words, we’re going to offer you our boss as your personal slave.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Arataki shouts. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“You revoked your own rights when you went against Section Three, Article One of the Arataki Gang’s Code of Honor,” Shinobu says, uncaring about the way her boss suddenly grabbed her by the front of her shirt. “Always inform fellow members about plans and actions that may implicate the Arataki Gang. Failure to do so is subject to disciplinary action. And Itto, inside voices please. We’re still at the hospital.”

“Like hell I care about that,” he hisses but lets go of Shinobu’s shirt. “I’ve got more important things to do than tend to some dumb plants, Shinobu. You know that.”

“Boss, you brought this upon yourself,” she groans. “Now man up and deal with the consequences of your—”

“...Shinobu, it’s okay.”

The two of them whirl their heads around to glance at you with lingering surprise. You’ve gotten up from the flimsy chair next to Arataki’s bed, already patting the non-existent dust off your clothes. If they notice the way your voice strains a little, they don’t comment on it.

“I appreciate the assistance for the repairs and replacements,” you say, awkwardly avoiding both their gazes. “But you don’t have to make him do something he doesn’t want to. Not everyone is cut out to be a florist anyways. Um, I’ll be going now. Just contact me if you need anything.”

“A-Are you sure?” Shinobu asks, clearly concerned. “It’s the least we could do for—”

“You’ve offered me plenty of help already,” you insist with a slightly forced smile. “If you still feel bad, just keep on buying flowers from my shop and we’ll call it quits.”

Arataki hasn’t spoken a word since his earlier outburst, but you can’t really look at him right now. You’re afraid you might say something you won’t be able to take back. But it’s not like it mattered, right? His gang’s going to pay for the damages in the end anyways. You don’t really need any form of support aside from that. 

“Some of our men are still guarding the shop as we speak. I told them not to leave until you arrived,” Shinobu informs, realizing there’s no changing your mind. “Take care on your way back. I’ll drop by tomorrow to assess the situation.”

“Yeah,” you tell her shakily. “See you there.”

And that’s how you left Inazuma General Hospital this morning—tearing up like a school girl all because of the shit some ingrate said about your line of work.

“Arataki?” your father repeats, setting his bowl of rice on the table. “You mean that gang leader from Hanamizaka? Has he been bothering you?”

“Uh, not exactly.” You take a sip from a glass of water, letting the cool sensation wash out your budding frustration. “I’m just curious because it seems like he knows you.”

Across the dining table, he strokes his chin, as if trying to recall something he’d long forgotten already. But when your father turns up with a clueless smile, you know you’ve just hit a dead end.

“Sorry, kiddo. I only know him because of his reputation,” he chuckles. “But if he ever tries to lay a hand on my little rascal—”

“Dad, I’m twenty-four years old.”

“—he’s going to have to answer to me, Takahashi Ranpo!”

Fortunately, your mother emerges from the kitchen with a plateful of mochi in hand—effectively silencing your father’s outlandish proclamations. You decide not to bring up Arataki nor the reason behind your trip to the hospital after that. Instead, you spend the rest of the time catching up with your parents as you happily chew on your favorite childhood treat.

“Oh, Andou-san from next door has a nephew who’s getting married in a few months,” your mother says. “She told me he wants you to oversee the flower arrangements both for the bridal bouquet and the venue. What do you say, sweetie?”

The news takes you slightly by surprise. Your shop is just as green as a germinating sweet flower seed, so you didn’t really expect to receive major bookings like this so soon. Plus, you still have to deal with the mess you’ve left at the shop. 

Despite having told Shinobu you’re going back to the scene, you decided to make a quick detour to your childhood home to get Arataki’s foul words out of your head. You’ve never been overly sensitive about what people said about your job. In fact, you’ve already gotten used to dismissive statements like that in college. A bachelor’s degree in Biology often implies that you’re pursuing medicine, so when you awkwardly stutter that no, you major in plant biology, most people will just brush it off with a laugh.

Which, of course, sucks like hell. But life doesn’t always turn up daisies, now does it?

“Sure. I’ll keep that in mind.”

When you finish washing the dishes, you bid farewell to your parents somewhat reluctantly. Lunch was great, and you kind of don’t want to go back to living alone just yet. But you remember that Mikan and your partially destroyed shop are waiting for you back at Hanamizaka. 

“Come back whenever you feel like it,” your father says, ruffling your hair like he always did since you were a kid. “I told you living alone can be a bit stifling sometimes.”

“I will,” you promise, lacing your shoes up by the entrance. “I’ll bring Mikan along next time. I think she misses mom’s tuna.”

“And I have more than enough for her when you both drop by again,” says your mother, reaching up to kiss your cheek. “Take care.”

Once you make it out of the house, your parents don’t move from the doorway until they’ve heard the telltale sound of the gate clicking shut. Your mother sighs.

“You know you’re going to have to tell them soon, right?”

Your father brings a palm across his face, breathing in somewhat sharply. When he closes his eyes, he quietly replies:

“I know.”

You didn’t really know what to expect when you got back.

When Shinobu told you that a bunch of gang members were hanging around the block to guard your shop, you expected them to be scattered across the area—intimidating everyone that dared to pass by your street. But what you come to discover, instead, are a bunch of men hard at work as they reinstall a new sheet of glass to replace your broken display window. Further inside the shop, you can see one group picking shards of the broken clay pots off the floor, while another is busy sweeping up the rest of the carnage. 

Have gangsters always been this...tidy?

 “Oi.”

You jolt at the sound of a deep, rugged voice coming from behind. It takes you a moment to meet the gaze of the guy that suddenly appeared behind you. But your initial dread is slightly quelled by the knowledge that he looks no older than sixteen.

“You the one who owns this place?” he asks, turning his head to spit on the pavement. Ugh. Gross. “If you ain’t the right person, you better skedaddle.” 

…Skedaddle? Did he just tell you to skedaddle?

“Um, no. I’m the actual owner,” you tell him, showing the ID in your wallet for some added proof. “You can consult with Shinobu if you don’t believe me.”

The teenage gangster sizes you up for a bit longer, and he looks like he’s about to voice out his skepticism until someone smacks him at the back of his head.

“Ow! Haru-nii, that frigging hurts!” he cries out, glancing at the newcomer spitefully.

‘Haru-nii’ is someone who looks considerably older—probably around your age. He slings a muscular arm around the poor boy’s shoulders before acknowledging you with a nod. “Hope you can forgive this little brat for acting so crass. Tora here doesn’t know how to distinguish friend from foe.” 

Sighing, you cast a sidelong glance at the state of your shop. The inside was relatively cleaner compared to the state you left it last night, and the gangsters managed to clean up most of the mess while you were away. By the time you’ve gotten your bearings straight, they were already finished installing your new window. You’d probably treat these guys to lunch if their boss wasn’t the one behind the casualties in the first place.

“Thanks for, uh, helping out,” you say, definitely not feeling all sorts of awkward right now. “Do you guys want snacks or anything?”

“Nah, we’re good,” Haru reassures before cupping his hands over his mouth. “Alright, boys, the owner of the property’s here. Let’s head out and visit the boss at the hospital.”

Tora perks up at the news. “Even the minors can go see the boss?”

“No, Tora. Minors aren’t allowed inside the emergency room. You guys are heading straight back to base.”

“God damn it!”

“Oi, what did Itto say about language before you’re eighteen?”

“...Gosh darn it.”

As the last of the Arataki Gang disperses from the area, you take the time to marvel at their quick repairs. It hasn’t even been a day since their boss hurled his motorcycle into your shop, but they made it seem like the incident never happened at all. Who knew gangsters had a knack for fixing things? 

The moment you remembered Arataki’s ridiculous motorcycle, though, you’re made aware of two things. The first is that the bike is no longer in your shop. His men probably wheeled it off to the nearest repair shop or something. The second is that the crocheted tanuki plush attached to the key to that same motorcycle is still in the back pocket of your jeans.

Now you have to involuntarily see that asshole again just to return it.

“Or I could just hand it to Shinobu tomorrow,” you realize half a second later, tossing Arataki’s keys in between your hands as you chuckle conspiratorially. “Yeah! That way, I don’t have to see that plant-hater ever again. Someone who likes bugs that much shouldn’t be trusted anyway.”

Mikan, thankfully, didn’t seem to give your neighbor a hard time. Ever since you moved here, Yoimiya has always been that one neighbor who’s always happy to help out. You kind of feel bad for assuming she might take the goods out of your cash register while you were gone.

“She was a nice little kitty!” Yoimiya gushes as she hands over your cat. “I took a day-off today, and she was such good company. Did you train her or something?”

You laugh softly as Mikan purrs in your arms. “She’s just more aware than most cats, I think.”

Deciding to follow in Yoimiya’s footsteps, you decide not to open up shop for today. Most of your regulars came in the morning anyways, and they were probably going to be too spooked by the influx of gang members to drop by. You’ll have to clear up the air soon, but for now that’ll have to wait. 

Once you fill Mikan’s food bowl with some canned tuna, your first order of business is to hop in the shower for a nice, hot bath. Scrubbing away the grime that accumulated from yesterday’s altercation has never felt more satisfying. But as you let the suds of shampoo soak in your hair, you’re abruptly visited by a memory that you’d rather keep locked up in a box, never to be recalled again.

The scent of engine exhaust was heavy in the air at the time. You still remember how loudly your heart pounded in your ears as Arataki reached out to touch your face. How those deep red eyes seemed glazed over with raw fascination. 

You’re so pretty.

A soft thud echoes in the tiled walls of your bathroom, accompanied by the pitter-patter of the shower against the floor. Your face feels a lot warmer than before, and you’re sure it isn’t from the hot water.

“Whywhywhywhy…”

Steam billows out of the door when you finally get your rushed shower over with. Like hell you’re going to spend another second thinking about that douchebag. But as you put on some more comfortable clothes to lounge in, you realize it’s only two hours past noon. You haven’t had a day-off in a while, so you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to make of all the free time. 

However, the moment you sit down on the couch, the day’s fatigue immediately comes crashing down on you once again. 

“Fuuuuck,” you mumble, lying on your side as you fish your phone on the coffee table. You placed it right next to Arataki’s stupid keys, and just looking at the stupidly adorable tanuki crochet is pissing you off. Why does a dick like him have something as cute as that?!

Me [14:15]: I’m bored and sleepy. 

Me [14:15]: What should I do?

It doesn’t even take two minutes for you to receive a reply.

Thoma [14:16]: Sleep definitely (－ω－) zzZ

Thoma [14:16]: Btw, Ayaka tried calling ur landline last night. She wanted to thank u for the flowers but u weren’t answering. 

Thoma [14:17]: U okay? Σ(°△°|||)︴

You end up staring at the blinking cursor on your screen. Shit. Should you tell them about what happened last night? But that might just cause unnecessary fussing, more on Thoma’s behalf than anything else. The evidence has been duly cleaned up by Arataki’s men anyways. Maybe you should just sweep all of this under the rug for the meantime. Your friends already worry about you a lot as is.

Me [14:23]: Yeah. Just rly tired. 

Thoma [14:24]:  ρ(- ω -、)ヾ(￣ω￣; )

Thoma [14:24]: We all have days like that.

Me [14:30]: …why are you using kaomojis

Thoma [14:31]: Ayaka said they were cute  ♡ ～('▽^人)

Not wanting to frustrate yourself about Thoma’s obvious yet inadmissible infatuation, you toss your phone somewhere in the mountain of throw pillows at your feet. You grab the remote to your TV with the intent of watching some noon-time soap opera, and Mikan seems to like that idea. She chooses that same instance to soundlessly prance over to the space in front of your stomach—making herself comfortable with a wide yawn. 

“It’s been a while since we hung out like this, huh?” you chuckle, scratching her ears affectionately. “Alright, marathon time.”

Five minutes into said marathon, however, you fall fast asleep. 

Is it normal to sleep for almost seventeen hours straight?

This is the first thought that occurs to you when you groggily paw around for your phone on the sofa. Your mouth is dry, and your stomach feels emptier than a used can of Mikan’s precious tuna. God, now you want tuna for breakfast-slash-late-dinner, too. 

The numbers on your lockscreen stare back almost mockingly. 05:57. Great! You slept through dinner all because you didn’t get any decent sleep the night prior. Although, it’s a miracle your dreams weren’t plagued by onikabuto battles and instant noodles. That just means your brain isn’t subconsciously making you think about Arataki Itto after all. 

There’s also a notification from an unknown number displayed, but you decide to check that for later. It’s probably an inquiring customer, and business hours don’t start until eight.  

You rise back to your feet, stretching out your limbs as you stifle a yawn. When you look around, Mikan is nowhere in sight, but you’ve gotten used to her morning strolls around the neighborhood. She might be a housecat for the most part, but that tabby does have a knack for adventure every now and again.

But you also realize that Arataki’s keys are no longer on the coffee table either.

Running your fingers through your bedhead, you make a quick search around your apartment—checking all the nooks and crannies where Mikan liked to leave dead lizards and mice for you to clean later. She must’ve mistaken the tanuki crochet as another candidate for her corpse collection. But twenty minutes in, you’re getting no leads.

“Don’t make me have to pay for it, damn cat,” you grumble, hastily putting on your slippers as you skip down the stairwell leading to the shop. 

The fluorescent lights are a bit much for someone who’s been dead to the world for nearly a quarter of a day. It takes a while for your eyes to adjust, but when they do, you realize that someone is squatting outside the shop. You pulled down the shutters yesterday, so you can only make out a slight silhouette. But still. The sun’s barely peaked over the horizon, yet you already have pending customers? 

You have a last-minute debate about whether you should entertain them or make them wait an hour more. But the kindness of your heart eventually wins that argument, and you end up undoing all the locks on the front door before you can change your mind. When you finally see who’s crazy enough to drop by a flower shop so early in the goddamn morning, though… 

“What exactly are you doing here?” 

Arataki looks up from where he’s crouched on the sidewalk—still sporting the bandage he had yesterday. There’s an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from the corner of his mouth, but he’s quick to put it back inside a box he retrieves from his pocket. Interestingly enough, right in front of him is Mikan, who’s lying on her back as Arataki uses the familiar tanuki keychain to play with her. 

“I sent you a couple texts, didn’t I?” Arataki tells you nonchalantly. “Said I was gonna come over first thing today for my training.”

You blink. “Excuse me, your what? And I received no such texts, sir.”

The gang boss sighs, before rising back to his feet. There’s a bit of a lag in your thought process when you take in his appearance. His style seems a bit more traditional compared to most men in their twenties. He’s wearing a deep purple yukata that’s hanging half-open to reveal that ridiculously built chest (is that his trademark look or something?). Said scandalizing article of clothing is tucked inside a pair of gray pants, and you notice that he’s even wearing wooden geta sandals. In this day and age!

“Here,” Arataki sighs, showing you the screen of his phone and—oh.

Me [20:45]: yo this is arataki shinobu told me to work for you as an apology so im heading over tomorrow morning

Me [20:50]: she told me not to tell you she told me but thats kinda too late for now

Me [20:51]: shinobu is reading all this shit over my shoulder do you think i suck at texting too

Me [20:56]: anyway im expecting gruelling training tomorrow see ya there master

Your mouth hangs slightly agape as you read each text. The digits displayed on top of the screen are enough to prove that this number is, indeed, yours. How he got it in the first place, you hadn’t the slightest clue.

You’re not even sure whether you’re supposed to be stressed about his lack of proper punctuation marks or the fact that he just showed up because Shinobu told him to. Now he knows you kept his keys all this time, too! 

“So there’s that,” Arataki breathes. “And you never replied so I took that as a go signal.”

“Usually when you don’t receive a response, you shouldn’t act on your own,” you tell him. 

He only shrugs. “Silence means yes, right?” 

“...It’s way too early for this,” you groan, scratching your head irritably. 

To your annoyance, Mikan meows from her comfortable place on the sidewalk, almost like she’s begging for Arataki’s attention. Seriously, this cat is clingy to everyone but her owner!

“Come on, how bad can I be?” he asks, almost pouting as he leans against your newly installed glass window. “Taking care of plants is just like taking care of your pets, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s so much more complicated than that! And I didn’t even know you’re going to be discharged this soon,” you argue. “I kind of resent you for what you did to my place, but it’s all good now, okay? Your men already took care of the dirty work, see?” You then make an exaggerated showcase of the spotless display window. 

Arataki sighs, red eyes staring into the distance.

“I haven’t made up for being such an asshole to you yesterday, though.”

The silence of the early dawn rings in your ears as his words settle around the both of you. You’re acutely aware of how the morning dew chills your skin slightly, but for some reason, those few words are enough to warm you up—even just a little.

“Anyway,” he says, clearing his throat before holding out his hand. “The name’s Arataki Itto. For the most part, I run an organization called the Arataki Gang. But for now, I’m a trainee and probationary employee at the Hanamizaka Flower Studio… Did I say that right? Eh, whatever. Pleased to meet ya, master.”

You think it’s a bit rude for you to wonder how much time he spent practicing that speech in front of a mirror. But Arataki seems like someone who's used to crowds and being the center of attention. You’ll have to applaud him for actually knowing the name of your flower shop, too. It’s only been less than a month since you’ve moved into the area, so most people only know your store as “the new flower shop at Sakura Street”. 

You’ve always considered hiring a helper around the shop—just one extra pair of hands would suffice, really. But you never expected that help to come in the form of a six-foot-something gangster who actually has a modicum of self-awareness. You feel a bit bad for talking shit about him in your head now. 

“W-What happened to ‘nee-chan’?” you grumble, not wanting to dwell on your false assumptions.

Arataki tilts his head slightly before snapping his fingers. “Oh, that. I realized that I’m older than you, so.” 

You scowl. “And how in the world did you realize that without asking me?”

“Shinobu has a copy of your national registry, remember? The one you’re s’posed to submit before signing the lease?” He chuckles as he leans back down to take Mikan into his massive arms. “Let’s just say I did my research, master.”

“Please stop calling me that,” you plead. “That’s too freaky, even for you.”

“Does this little thing approach people you call creepy?” he taunts, rubbing the tip of Mikan’s nose. “How about you start showing me the ropes now? We’re burning daylight, y’know?” 

There’s no way out of this—you realize bitterly. Arataki Itto is exactly the type of person to push your buttons until you ultimately surrender to his whims, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Fine, fine!” you groan, stomping over to the front door as you swing it a bit too enthusiastically. “After you, my prized trainee.” 

Arataki raises an eyebrow but the look melts into a peal of laughter that makes something flutter in your chest. Damn it!

“Thank you, master~” he sing-songs, brushing past you with Mikan still snuggled comfortably in his arms. The moment he crosses your space, though, your senses are filled with the faint scent of cigarettes and something minty, just a tad bit sweet. You sigh.

This is going to be a long probationary period. 

← previous | next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations 01 ⟢

a man walks into a bar— no, smashes his bike into your shop: what do you do?

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 5.3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTABLE CHARACTERS; arataki itto, kuki shinobu, thoma, kaedehara kazuha

★ WARNINGS; motorcycle accidents, blood imagery, hospital visits, but nothing too gory or violent

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

“Thank you for your patronage!”

The elderly woman, who’s also your first customer for the day, grins as she receives the bouquet from your grasp. “No, thank you, dear. Your arrangements are always so lovely.”

You managed a soft laugh, the ping of the cash register resounding in the air. “You flatter me too much, Amane-san! I’m just like any other florist out there.”

“Any other florist wouldn’t dare put up shop in this part of town, though,” she chuckles, gentle fingers caressing a patch of baby’s breath rather fondly. “Though you make it much easier to bring flowers to my husband, aren’t you afraid? You know who runs this district, don’t you?”

“Sure do,” you say, tearing off the receipt printed out by the register before handing it to her. “They’re the ones who own this complex after all.”

Amane nods, smile not faltering. “Then you’ll be just fine. Most folks from the city are quick to judge little Arataki’s gang. Bunch of troublemakers, they said, but what they don’t know is that they’re the ones who keep Hanamizaka the way it is… Oh, never mind me! This is just an old lady’s rambling.”

“Not at all.” You shook your head. “I don’t think the, uh, Arataki Gang’s all that bad. At least their secretary isn’t. Oh, here she comes now.”

The chimes on the front door tinkle softly at the entrance of a new customer that you receive with a kind smile. Kuki Shinobu is not your everyday right-hand woman to Hanamizaka’s band of thugs. For someone managing a rather…unorthodox organization, she seems a bit more put-together than you would otherwise assume gangsters should be. When Shinobu walks into your flower shop, she looks like any other straight-laced college student you’ve come across in the city—looking around as if she didn’t drop by every morning.

“Oh, Shi-chan!” Amane gushes. “I didn’t know you were looking after our newcomer here. The boys didn’t cause any trouble, I hope?”

Shinobu sighs. “The last tenant packed his bags and left because they scared away all his customers. I explicitly told them not to bother the next one that tenders a lease with us.” Turning to you, she spares a small smile. “Speaking of which, good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too, Shinobu,” you chirp. “Is it gonna be the usual for today?”

“Yeah. Oh, wait, no. Do you have anything more fragrant? Specifically something that calms the nerves?” she asks, reaching into her backpack to hand you an ornate vase that seems more expensive than it looks. “Our boss has been feeling off-kilter for the past two days, and his mood swings aren’t doing anyone favors.”

“How about you fix her up with some silk flowers, dear?” Amane suggests, gesturing to the bouquet in her hands. “My husband adored them, and we always ordered some seeds from the old flower shop in the city back in the day. I’m sure little Arataki will snap out of it once he gets a whiff of them in that cramped office of his.”

“Does that work for you?” you ask Shinobu, and she nods. “Alright, give me…fifteen minutes to prep, and we’ll be all set!”

This is how your mornings usually turn out.

For a quick backstory: after living in the capital of Inazuma City for the past twenty-four years, you decided to move out of your old childhood home and live independently. It was a decision that neither of your parents were happy to agree with at first, but you managed to meet the conditions they’d set once you graduated from college. Those being: 1.) Have a stable source of income; and 2.) Don’t move too far away. 

It took you a couple of months to survey whether a flower shop would flourish in the neighboring district of Hanamizaka. But once you’ve confirmed that the business opportunity was too good to pass up—the elderly living in this area seriously had a green thumb or two—you decided to hunt for a good apartment and commercial space as soon as you could. That’s how you ended up meeting Shinobu, the secretary (or was it deputy?) of the so-called Arataki Gang. Apart from their supposed claim over this district, they also owned a two-floor building that they rented out for extra revenue. 

You’ve only heard about the gang in passing during your college days, when one of your friends accidentally waltzed into their territory once. They took his presence as a threat, apparently, and the boss was quick to issue a challenge in the streets of Hanamizaka. Needless to say, the tall tale only made you more curious with the things that go on outside the city. Now here you are, about three weeks into your new lease in a place legally owned by the Arataki Gang. 

But…despite all the stories told by Amane and some of your other customers, you haven’t seen any members lingering around. It’s mostly just Shinobu that gives your shop the time of day, and if you did happen to spot anyone that resembles a gangster, they were quick to scat. As if they’d been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. 

And with all the countless complaints you’ve heard about the boss from Shinobu (“Little Arataki”, as Amane liked to address him), you’re yet to meet the man in the flesh.

It’s not like you want to be introduced to someone who can potentially be a yakuza, but… 

“Meow.”

As you clean up the leftover stems on your work table, your tabby, Mikan, hops onto the counter behind you, tail swishing with imminent curiosity. You toss the plastic bag containing the disposed remains of Shinobu’s most recent purchase into the bin, clapping the residue off your hands. When you reach out to scratch under her ears, Mikan purrs out a delightful little sound.

“It’s about time we ate some brunch, yeah?”

The next morning, you open up shop like usual. Checking up on plants that need supplementing, calling in for another order of clay pots (your stock is rapidly depleting), and entertaining orders from customers that step inside the store. The clear glass of the display windows makes it fairly easy to spot anyone that might harbor an interest in all things botanical, so you always manage to greet everyone with a sunny disposition. 

Well, almost everyone.

“So when do you plan on telling her again?” Your eye twitches as you put together a very extravagant sweet flower bouquet. “We’ve been friends since freshman year, and you’ve liked her since freshman year. That was, what? Six years ago? And you still haven’t told her?”

Thoma pouts at you. “Hey, you talk like admitting your feelings for someone is a walk in the park.”

“It’s not, but keeping quiet for six years is so uncool, Thoma!”

“Not like I’m trying to be cool,” he mumbles. “Oh, do you have any of those cherry blossom designs, by the way? Do you think they’ll look nice with the bouquet?” 

You shoot him one last condescending look before rummaging through the cabinets near the windows. Each level contains different flower-arranging paraphernalia. From scented wrapping paper to customized wicker baskets—everything you need to fashion one creative bouquet to another is readily available; artificial embellishments like the one Thoma wants included.

… if they’re in stock, that is.

“Hate to break it to you, but I forgot someone placed an order that used up all my cherry blossom stems last week,” you sigh. “I think I can get my hands on some new stock later in the day, though. I’ll just have someone deliver it to your place or something… Unless you’re finally going to confess to Ayaka for real. I can definitely improvise if that’s the case.”

Thoma laughs, but the sound is a bit dry. “It’s just a little congratulations for securing a partnership with Watatsumi University. You know how serious she is about her job, right?”

Kamisato Ayaka is, indeed, the overachiever in your old college friend group. After graduation, she was offered a distinguished position in the Faculty of International Relations & Culture—something everyone agreed she deserved and more. You haven’t been able to keep in touch with Ayaka since you moved out of your parents’ house, but Thoma is thankfully here to update you about their goings-on.

“Fine, fine. Just have it delivered,” Thoma tells you, pulling out his wallet only to inevitably frown at it. You heave another sigh. “Uh, put it on my tab for next time?”

“This is a flower shop, not a bar, asshole,” you mumble, and when you return back to the counter, Mikan chooses that exact same moment to pop her head out—mewling in delight when she sees Thoma. 

“Oh, Mikan, if only your owner is as kind to me as you are,” he fake-sobs, carrying your cat in his arms as she snuggles into his grasp. Damn traitor. “I promise I’ll pay you once I get this week’s payroll. But I’ll be taking my leave now because you know that being here gives me the jitters.”

Right. The friend that got challenged into a duel by the Arataki Gang? That was Thoma.

Once he steps out of the shop, you sink into your little swiveling chair behind the counter—head tilted listlessly towards the ceiling. The greens growing on your plant hangers are looking a little dull, and you wonder if you should move the rack closer to the windows. But despite your attempt at distracting yourself, the exasperation from Thoma’s inability to be honest eventually catches up to you. Mikan hops onto your lap in the next second, as if sensing your distress, and you run a hand across her orange fur with a sigh. 

“When I get a boyfriend, I want him to be as straightforward as a man can get.”

“Mrow.”

“If he ever skirts around his true feelings, I’m never going to accept him.”

“Mrow.”

You let out a soft chuckle, lifting her by the waist as she flashes you a disgruntled look. But before she can let out any mewls in complaint, you pull her closer to your chest with a long breath.

“You’re the only one who gets me, Mikan. Even if you like Thoma more than me sometimes.”

“Meow.”

“...Did you just agree with me?”

“Mrow~”

Half an hour before closing time, your usual delivery boy arrives on the dot to receive the order. Kazuha greets you warmly when he walks into the shop, and of course, Mikan bounds into his arms just like she does with everyone but you, it seems. 

“Someone’s looking quite chipper today,” he comments before setting your tabby back onto the floor. “Where am I delivering your package again?”

You hand Kazuha the neatly wrapped bouquet—complete with Thoma’s requested specifications—and check the virtual map of the city from your phone at the same time. “Um, the apartment complex right next to Uyuu Restaurant. I texted you the exact floor and unit.” 

“Got it.” 

Forgetting that you’re supposed to pay him for his services, you hobble back to the counter to retrieve enough mora to cover the delivery costs. Kazuha thanks you kindly when you hand over the payment, and he drops the money into the cute little fanny pack he wears all the time. 

“The app is going to let you know once the delivery is complete as usual,” he tells you, already halfway out of the shop. “Thank you again for trusting our services.”

“I wouldn’t dream of switching couriers at all,” you chuckle. 

Kazuha humors you with a soft laugh, but just when you thought he’s going to end the exchange right there—

“Oh, you best be careful, by the way.”

Your brow quirks. “Pardon?”

He sighs, casting a worried look your way. “I heard that the tensions have been a bit high between the Arataki Gang and another organization I’m not familiar with. It seems that the dispute has been stirring things up not just in Hanamizaka, but the capital as well.”

It takes you a moment to fully absorb Kazuha’s words, but when you do, your curiosity only festers. Is that why Shinobu’s boss has been on edge lately? Because of the dispute? 

“You don’t need to worry about me,” you reassure him with a smile—picking Mikan off the floor as you set her down on the counter. “I live on the second floor anyways, so there’s no reason to go out unless I need to get some groceries. Or visit my parents.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to be more cautious, right?” Kazuha laughs. “Well, see you soon.”

Closing time isn’t as really as lonely as you thought it would be. Despite Mikan’s indecipherable habits, she often helps clean up because the faster you can take care of things in the shop, the faster she can eat dinner. You don’t blame her for the strange source of motivation, though. If anything, you’re feeling a bit famished yourself, too.

“Hmm… I wonder what I should cook for dinner,” you wonder aloud, resting your chin on top of your broom. “Tonkatsu sounds really neat right now, but it’s kind of a pain to make the batter and everything. Ugh…” 

Eventually, you continue sweeping the floor just to get your hands moving. You make sure to check your phone every now and again for some texts from your parents, as well. They did like asking if you’ve already eaten dinner at this hour. But ten minutes into your final clean-up, you notice that Mikan has gone stock-still on the counter—green eyes wide and staring out like she saw a mouse scuttling across the windowsill. You make a puzzled face before glancing over your shoulder, but the only thing that greets your sight is the early evening traffic of Hanamizaka.

“Anything the matter?” you ask, but Mikan doesn’t even mewl in response. Your usually hyperactive tabby is just transfixed on the bustling nightlife in a way you haven’t seen before. But you read somewhere that animals often have bouts of odd silence every now and again, so you decide to brush it off.

Just when you're climbing up the stairwell that leads to your actual apartment, Mikan doesn't follow you even if you’re about to switch off the lights. She remains seated on the counter, tail swaying rhythmically like she’s waiting for something to happen.

“Mikan, come on.” You cross your arms. “Don’t you want dinner?” 

What is up with this cat today?

However, the next second, an ear-splitting roar shatters the silence of the evening—cleaving through you like an axe through sturdy bark. The sound rattles you enough that you nearly fall off the stairwell, but when you spot a speck of blinding light in the distance, speeding closer and closer in a way that seems like they have no intention of stopping—

“Mikan!” 

You know very well that cats have the most graceful reflexes out there; that Mikan can jump out of the way of imminent danger the moment it strikes. But she’s been by your side for a good few years now, so you guess it’s natural for you to develop a strange maternal instinct, of sorts. 

Without putting another thought into it, you sprint off the stairwell and leap in front of the counter. An unknown vehicle smashes through the windows a split second later—sending shrapnels of glass flying everywhere. The screech of an engine makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and you squeeze your eyes shut, shielding Mikan as you turn your back towards the commotion. In the back of your mind, it clicks to you that whatever dickhead ran their ride into your shop, they probably ended up destroying the Sumerian dracaenas you put up on display. But you’ll give them an earful for that later. 

You only realize your heart is threatening to break out of your ribcage once Mikan starts mewling in your arms—pawing at your shirt. A shuddering sigh flees your lips as you hug her closer to your chest. 

“Thank gods you’re alright,” you murmur, patting down her fur. 

But the next thing you take notice of is the feel of the warm, evening breeze drifting into the shop. When you turn around to survey the situation, you take note of several things at once: the gaping hole in your shop, the passers-by stopping to take a look, the huge, extensively modified motorcycle lying on its side next to a ruined shelf, and—

“Shit.” You immediately let Mikan hop out of your arms as you shakily stand up—mortified at the crimson liquid pooling beneath the head of an unfamiliar man. Under the fluorescent lighting of your shop, you can safely assume that this is definitely blood.

For a moment, you panic—unsure of the protocol for when a reckless driver crashes his bike into your shop. You can’t exactly yell at him for doing that, since he was obviously out cold. So, the next thing you try to take into account is the state of his motorcycle.

It’s one of those variants with lowered seats and longer handles. The kind that you imagine the local thugs use to show off in groups. And just beneath the single, jewel-encrusted headlight is a golden sigil that slightly resembles a…dragon? A demon? You’re not entirely sure, but you’ve watched enough action movies with Thoma back in the day to know that you should switch off the engine to avoid further casualties. 

As you step over the large man lying unconscious on the floor of your shop, you twist the key in the ignition slot, taking it out with a bated breath. You notice that it’s attached to a crocheted plush of a tanuki, and that makes you stare at the man in disbelief. 

This time, you’re able to get a better look at him.

It occurs to you a bit too late that the huge motorcycle is just appropriate for a guy that’s both ridiculously tall and has the broadest shoulder-span you’ve ever seen. His shaggy, ivory hair is sprawled all over the place, and some of it’s getting dyed in the bright red of his own blood. Grotesque details aside, he’s wearing nothing but a purple patterned haori— giving you an eyeful of the strange red tattoos inked into his impressive chest. But you have enough decency not to ogle someone who’s passed out, so once you pocketed his keys, you crouch down to lightly pat his face.

“Sir?” you call out. “Are you conscious? I’m going to call an ambulance, okay?”

That seems to make him stir. 

He opens his eyes—squinting at the bright lights of the shop. From the way his blood red irises keep drifting in and out of focus, you assume that he definitely has a concussion. But before you can even get up to look for your phone, the reckless driver tugs you back down by the wrist. You cry out in surprise but you’re reflexive enough to plant your palms on the ground before you fall into the man’s chest. 

Your breath hitches when you find yourself staring deep into the red of his eyes, and you can’t even flinch away when he raises a large, calloused hand to cup the side of your face.

“You’re so pretty.”

And that's the last thing he says before slumping back to the floor. 

You don’t really remember the last time you stepped inside Inazuma General Hospital, but each one only left a bitter taste in your mouth. Today’s visit to the emergency room is no different.

You fidget with your phone—chewing the inside of your cheek as you try not to let the scent of disinfectant get to your nerves. There aren’t a lot of people inside the waiting lounge with you, and you aren’t really in the mood to strike up conversation with anyone at the moment. So it’s just you and the messy haywire of thoughts currently fogging up your brain. You can’t even bring yourself to give Kazuha’s usual 5-star rating once he completed your delivery earlier because you feel that antsy. 

To be fair, you’re not really bothered by the prospect of bringing an injured man to receive the medical care he direly needs. Even if he destroyed plants and display cases worth over a hundred thousand mora, you’re not so heartless that you’ll leave him to bleed to death in your shop out of spite. You even left Mikan and your shop in the care of your next-door neighbor out of the urgency to bring that guy to the hospital. 

But the thing that’s unnerving you the most right now is…the man’s identity.  

On the ambulance ride here, the paramedics managed to procure some ID from a wallet he kept in the trunk of the motorcycle. Lo and behold, you’re finally given a name to the careless prick who gave you a hassle and a half as a present for your first meeting. 

Arataki Itto.

You tried not to jump to conclusions at first (maybe this is a different Arataki). But the paramedics seemed familiar enough with the guy that when they loaded him inside the ambulance, you could tell that this might not be the first time they brought this specific person to the hospital under the same degree of injury. 

The sound of your name being called from the entrance snaps you out of your musing.

“It’s good that you brought him in as soon as you could,” says one of the doctors that oversaw Arataki’s first aid and treatment. “He seems to have suffered blunt head trauma, and I’m assuming it occurred before Arataki-san crashed into your shop. Is that right? The nurses get the stories mixed up sometimes.” 

Blunt head trauma? So he ran your shop over because he was already injured beforehand?

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter. “Um, is he going to be okay?”

He nods. “We’ve administered the medication he requires right now, and he should be out cold for the next few hours. I also had the folks from the front desk reach out to his emergency contact. You’ve done enough, so we’ll be taking Arataki-san’s situation out of your hands now.”

Unable to contain your own curiosity, you decide to ask, “...Does this happen often? You guys seem awfully relaxed about having to deal with a gangster.”

“Oh, once you’ve spent enough time tending to those boys, you’ll come to realize they aren’t as bad as people make them out to be,” the doctor laughs as he goes over the clipboard in his hands. You wonder if he’s talking about the rest of the Arataki Gang. “Arataki-san frequents this hospital a lot—not as a patient, but as a companion. When one of his gang members gets into a violent squabble, he patiently sits in this same waiting room until they’re all patched up.” 

The information makes your lips part in equal parts disbelief and admiration. You never would’ve imagined a big, hulking man like him showing an ounce of compassion for the men he’s in charge of. But when you recall how gently he caressed your face earlier—red eyes shining with honest sincerity as he says, You’re so pretty—

“Shinya-sensei,” a nurse calls out from the hall, effectively yanking you back to reality. “Kuki-san just arrived. She wishes to talk to the one who brought Arataki-san in.”

Oh, right. It would make sense for Shinobu to be Arataki’s emergency contact. When Doctor Shinya glances at you for your confirmation, you nod at him and follow the nurse out of the room.

You find Shinobu with a chair pulled up next to an unconscious Arataki’s bed in the emergency wards—staring resentfully into space until she catches wind of your arrival. Her eyes widen with disbelief as she gets back to her feet.

“It’s you,” Shinobu murmurs before groaning into her hands. “Why did it have to be you…?”  

You feel a prick of offense at that. “I’m sorry?”

She sighs, and you realize that Shinobu’s backpack is lying at the foot of her chair. Did she rush from school to the hospital immediately after hearing the news? 

“No, no. I’m grateful that you brought in our boss,” she explains, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s just that… Gods, Master is going to kill us.”

“Master?” 

“It’s nothing!” Shinobu insists, and you startle a little because she’s always been a bit soft-spoken. Right now, she’s the epitome of a stressed college student that has more pressing problems outside of her bachelor’s degree. “Forgive me, my thoughts are just…all over the place. I was consulting some revisions for my thesis when I got the call and—ugh! Why does Itto have to go overboard every. Single. Time?!” 

You can see the nurse that came with you scuttling out of the scene when Shinobu starts to complain aloud, and you understand the sentiment. You aren’t sure what to make of the outburst she’s laying off on you at the moment, but you decide not to comment on it. Being a college senior and the deputy for a gang are two very different things. It’s amazing that Shinobu can even handle them both at the same time.

“Hey,” you call out, rubbing a hand on her shoulder. “If you need to sort out your stuff with that thesis of yours, I could always just watch over him for the night.”

Shinobu’s face falls. “What? But your shop got trashed by this guy, right? The nurse told me so.”

“Well, yeah, but Shinobu, you look like you’re about to short-circuit any second,” you point out. “I had my neighbor watch over the shop and my cat earlier, so it shouldn’t be a big deal. Even though someone could rob the cash register and I might end up bankrupt.”

You punctuate the words with an uneasy laugh that makes you realize that you really did just leave your incredibly vulnerable shop in the hands of a neighbor that you haven’t known all that long. Shinobu is quick to pick up on your split-second epiphany though, and fishes out her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans.

“I’ll have some of the boys watch over your place in the meantime,” she sighs, tapping away at the screen. “If someone tries to rob you, they’ll have to answer to the Arataki Gang— What’s so funny?” 

You hide your soft chuckles with the back of your hand. “Nothing. It’s just that you’re so quick to do a complete one-eighty degrees. Earlier you’re a lamenting college senior and now you’re back to deputy-of-the-Arataki-Gang mode.”

“It’s important to keep these aspects of my life separate from the other,” Shinobu sighs before bowing in front of you. This shocks you a little, because no one in modern day Inazuma still does that right? “I’m terribly sorry for the inconveniences our boss has caused, and for calling in a favor from you at such short notice. Rest assured, the Arataki Gang will make up for it however we can.”

“Uh…” you draw out dryly, unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. “It’s really not an inconvenience, Shinobu. I’ll be more worried about you if you end up missing deadlines because you had to look after your boss.”

Shinobu rises back to her full height, tears glistening in her eyes. Um…

“Thank you so much,” she nearly sobs, throwing her arms around you in a hug. “I promise I’ll rush back here first thing tomorrow and discuss the reparations with you and our idiot boss.”

You relax into her arms, patting her head affectionately. “Take your time. I won’t go anywhere.”

When Shinobu takes her tearful leave, you end up staring at your impromptu patient with a desolate sigh. True to Doctor Shinya’s words, Arataki is out cold—the only indication that he’s alive being the steady rise and fall of his broad chest. They managed to change him into a loose hospital gown, but you can still see the heavy outline of his tattoos under the thin fabric. 

You decide to take a seat in the same chair Shinobu was just having a midlife crisis in earlier, checking your back pocket for your wallet. Thankfully, it was still there, and you can at least afford to buy yourself some convenience store sandwiches and a coffee. Archons know you can’t exactly stomach a full meal after everything that transpired tonight. But you decide to linger for a while longer before heading out to grab something to eat.

The circumference of Arataki’s head is wrapped in a sterile white gauze that makes his hair look more cream-colored than ivory, and you notice that his arm is hooked up to an IV at the other side of his bed. Your forehead creases with how hard you’re thinking about what must’ve happened for him to end up in this state. If Kazuha’s earlier warnings had any real weight to them, you’re willing to wager that it has something to do with his gang’s current disputes. But Doctor Shinya also mentioned that Arataki rarely comes into the hospital as a patient, so why…?

Your phone buzzes in your lap, startling you out of your reverie.

Thoma [21:15]: Got the flowers! Heading over to Ayaka’s rn

You roll your eyes, the dread from your earlier musing immediately dissipating from a single text from Thoma.

Me [21:15]: Confess or ten years bad luck.

Thoma [21:16]:

Me [21:18]: I’m not even trying to make you reblog shit! Just confess!!!!!!!

Thoma [21:19]: Maybe next time 😌

“Ow, fuck.”

Once again, you jolt in surprise when another distraction greets your vision in the form of a very conscious Arataki trying to pull the needle out of his arm. Your eyes widen and you immediately shoot back to your feet, pinning his meaty arms to his sides with your hands. You try not to pay attrention to how the girth of his muscle dwarves your fingers. When the hell did he even wake up?!

“Hm?” Arataki stares at you, just as baffled. “As much as I like a lady that can hold me down, I gotta get outta here, nee-chan. Can’t you help me out or something?” 

“Shinobu asked me to watch over you for the night,” you tell him through gritted teeth—not liking how he’s not even struggling to shake off your grip. “So please don’t cause her any more trouble than you already have. Just stay here and let yourself recover like a good little gang boss.”

Arataki’s eyes widen slightly. “Whoa, I’m totally not discovering inappropriate things about myself in the most inappropriate times.”

“Just go back to sleep!” you groan. “If you rip out that IV, I’m calling the nurses.”

“Jeez, alright, alright,” he surrenders, even making a show of lying back down on his pillows. “Who are you anyway? The last time I had a lady fuss over me this much was when I…”

You don’t know why, but the fact that he just forgot who you are kind of stings a little. The realization makes you want to slap yourself. This is the man who ran his bike into your shop. He deserves no form of sulking on your end! Who cares if he forgot that he called you pretty in a post-concussion delirium?!

“Whatever,” you tell him, bringing your hands back to your sides with a huff. “I’m going to grab something to eat. You better not pull an escape act while I’m gone.”

“Nee-chan, the more you discourage me, the more I’m inclined to do it,” Arataki points out as he rests his chin on his free hand. You then notice that he painted his nails stark black. “But fine. Can you bring me some yakisoba bread when you come back though? Oh, and a Pocari, too? Hospital food tastes like ass.”

You gape at him. Is he serious? Is he really this shameless?

“Whatever!” you repeat more firmly before stepping out of the ward—not caring how many times Arataki calls out for you.

It wasn’t obvious at the time, but if you intended to lead a quiet, independent life, the last thing you should’ve done is to get involved with the Oni King of Hanamizaka. 

next →

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— reparations (masterlist) ⟢

running a business in hanamizaka was one thing—but doing so in the turf of the arataki gang was something else entirely. although, as long as you paid rent on time, they assured that you wouldn't run into any trouble.

...that's until the boss crashed his motorcycle into your shop, inviting all sorts of trouble along the way.

★ FEATURING; arataki itto x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 74k and counting

★ STATUS; ongoing

★ TAGS; modern au, flower shop au, slow burn, idiots to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, mutual pining, no smut, sfw

★ NOTES; this is the fic that i started before we even got itto as a playable character, and the same one i have Yet to finish two years since his release lmfao i hope you enjoy what i have so far!

★ HEADER ART CR; onimotimo on twt

�� one: a man walks into a bar— no, smashes his bike into your shop: what do you do? (5.3k words)

✧ two: what resumé? i'm hiring myself as your number one helper! (5.3k words)

✧ three: knocking on heaven's (read: my employer's) door (5.9k words)

✧ four: revealing someone else’s tragic backstory is NOT cool, okay? (4.4k words)

✧ five: i have a very marketable skill called “jumping to conclusions”

✧ six: do i get a gold star for doing a great job or no?

✧ seven: question: if someone likes you, are you required to like them back?

✧ eight: making plans when you already have plans is a different kind of stupid

✧ nine: it only takes four hours to make or break someone’s day [april 20]

✧ ten: how about we just hug it out like a bunch of bros? [april 20]

✧ eleven: falling in love is the worst experience ever; i give it a 0 out of 10 [april 22]

✧ twelve: signs of maturity: having healthy conversations & going to the grocery store without minding your budget [april 22]

✧ thirteen: the fake dating trope only works in theory, NEVER in practice [april 27]

✧ fourteen: psa: you can only call it a first kiss if all parties consent to it! [april 27]

★ DISCLAIMER; since this was written when some of inazuma's lore + characters weren't released yet, expect some inconsistencies w canon (especially with shinobu's appearance)

★ UPDATE SCHED; every thurs & sat (12 nn gmt+8)

‼️ A NOTICE FROM KAI; chapters that are running behind schedule will be posted sometime around May! Apologies for the delay :(

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

Have you read the recent chapters of roomates cuz 👀👀👀

Readers relationship w both kaeya and diluc give me life !!!

i've been reaaaally busy w uni lately, so i'm not sure if i'm caught up to roommates (pls forgive me bean my love) BUT i remember screaming into my pillow when i read abt how kaeya and mc were finally getting on it LMAO that's what diluc gets for being obscure w his feelings, i'm afraid!

[cryoculus]

— lotus eater ⟢

you’ve been by ayato’s side 5 out of the 26 years he’s been blessed with today and you intend to stay until the very last one.

★ FEATURING; kamisato ayato x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1.7k words

★ TAGS; established relationship, alcohol, drunken kissing, so much flirting, hc: ayato is a clingy drunk

★ NOTES; aka a super belated happy birthday fic to one of my favorite characters in the game! ily ayato you'll always have a special spot in my heart

★ HEADER ART CR; donaldakron on twt

“You bought what?”

Being the closest associate to one Kamisato Ayato means you were intimately familiar with the Commissioner’s habits. One such habit is purchasing exotic drinks from anyone and everyone who had them for sale in Ritou Harbor. Drinks that he’ll undoubtedly try to mix with something else, resulting into a concoction of liquid diarrhea. 

Today—his twenty-sixth birthday—is no different. 

“Snezhnayan firewater,” Ayato says simply, setting the expensive bottle atop the low table. “I sampled some during one of Father’s trips to the northern continent. That was when I’ve yet to appreciate the bite of alcohol, though.”

You stare at him, unimpressed. “So you were still a minor.”

“Hmm, more or less.”

For the head of the Kamisato clan, birthdays aren’t all that special. No parties are held; no special programs to commemorate the occasion. You even organized his schedule just like you do on normal days, as per his request.

Though his family and retainers want nothing more than to shower Ayato with the appreciation he deserves, the Commissioner has always been content with a quiet birthday dinner in the company of his loved ones.

…And a private drinking session with you inside his office.

You know you shouldn’t feel as flustered as you are. Everyone is well-aware that Kamisato Ayato cherishes his beloved secretary in more ways than one. But even if your relationship with him is common knowledge, you still can’t help but feel self-conscious about the time you spend with him.

“Once in Fontaine, the delegation served us a very peculiar cocktail,” Ayato says as he pours you a glass. “They called it the Paradiso—a little minty, a little fruity. But what made it stand out to me is the edible lotus floating on top of the drink.”

You hum, reaching for your glass as you take a small sip that has you cringing in distaste. Gods, that was strong.

“Isn’t that just a ploy to get in your good graces?” you ask dryly, remembering the Kamisato clan’s crest. “They really couldn’t have been more obvious.”

“That might be true, but if I’m given a nice drink for free, who am I to refuse?” Ayato chuckles softly, halving his glass of whiskey with a face as smooth as butter. He didn’t even flinch. “Plus, there’s actually a meaning behind the cocktail’s namesake.”

“Pray tell?”

“Have you ever heard of the Land of the Lotus Eaters?” he asks. You shake your head. “Well, to make it short, when one finds himself in that place and ingests the flowers floating in the river, he’ll never want to leave. Suddenly, the Land of the Lotus Eaters is equivalent to paradise.”

Now that’s news to you. “Was that Fontaine’s subtle way of telling you they didn’t want you to go back to Inazuma or…?”

Ayato laughs again. “You are as bright as you are lovely. In the end, those are nothing but legends told to pass the time. Though my secretary before you did discourage me from eating the lotus in my drink.”

“She made a good call then. We wouldn’t want one of Inazuma’s most-desirable bachelors to leave us for a damn cocktail,” you joke.

He nods, reaching for your hand as he twines your fingers together. “Yes, and my old secretary couldn’t have tendered her resignation, and I wouldn’t have met you.”

It takes you a moment to process Ayato’s subtle attempt at flirting, but when you do, you’re suddenly conscious of everything else. How his gloved fingers feel against your skin. How he presses his warm body against yours behind the table.

Your lover knows the degree of skinship that’s socially acceptable to any given situation. But there’s something more intimate in these little gestures as opposed to his usual acts of grandeur. Kamisato Ayato is a man who isn’t afraid to flaunt you around if the occasion allows it. With how his hands are always tied with administrative work, it kind of makes sense why he’d return to your side a bit more touch-starved than expected.

Still…you’re lucky enough to be the object of his affections, yet you’re losing your cool because he’s holding your hand?

It’s got to be the alcohol.

You spend the rest of the night sharing his newest bottle of imported whiskey, telling each other stories you’ve already told countless times. Because neither you nor Ayato could get enough of the other. For the longest time, you’ve wanted to invite either Thoma or Ayaka to these drinking sessions on the nights of his birthday, but a selfish part of you wants to keep him for yourself.

After all, no one can really handle an intoxicated Yashiro Commissioner as well as you do.

“Do you think Thoma would agree to test out a firewater boba drink for me?” Ayato wonders, voice sounding completely sober yet the warm tinge of his cheeks betrays him. “He definitely would, right?”

“Yeah because you’re going to bully him into doing it.” You shake your head, plucking the glass from his fingers despite being a bit buzzed yourself. “Cut that out. You know Thoma can’t say no to you.”

He whines. “And that’s exactly what makes him the perfect test subject!”

“How about this: if you promise to stop manipulating the poor guy into consuming your weird beverages, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Normally, a wager like that would have weak-looking stakes to anyone else who hears. Lovers kiss all the time, right? But to Ayato, his lilac eyes immediately snap wide—making him brace his palms on your shoulders as he forcibly meets your gaze.

“You really mean that?”

“Yup,” you reply. “I’ll kiss you right here, right now if you promise.”

You feel like it’s such an indubitable privilege to get to see him like this—the prince-like head of the Kamisato clan, nearly pouting as you hung the prize of your affection over his head. Well, he always does the same thing to Thoma when you aren’t looking so you suppose this is a taste of his own medicine.

Of course, Ayato never falls short in flustering you despite assuming the role of the one in charge. He quietly shrugs off his jacket, folding it neatly on the floor in spite of himself. Then, he takes your hand before pressing his soft lips against your skin.

“I promise not to bully our favorite housekeeper, Thoma in the meantime.” He grins, pale bangs framing the mischievous glint in his eyes. You know better than to trust this crafty man’s words, but…

You twist your fingers around a little until your hands are intertwined again. Ayato startles at your forwardness, but you don’t give him any leeway to tease as you lean closer to press your mouth on top of his own.

You’ve been Ayato’s secretary for five years, but his lover much less than that. Despite the fact that you know him better than anyone else—even his own sister—you still don’t know how to kiss him properly. You’re always so hesitant and awkward and all over the place, but Ayato never seems to mind.

It doesn’t help that you’re bolder than usual, with all that pent up liquid courage. When your lover eases you into a pace that’s more comfortable for the both of you, you shyly card your fingers through his hair. A soft groan reverberates in the back of his throat, and the sound surprises you a bit—making you pull away.

“S-Sorry,” you tell him sheepishly. “I’m still not very used to—” 

Ayato pulls you in before you can even finish the sentence, smashing his lips against yours with more fervor than usual. You gasp into the kiss, unintentionally giving him all the leeway he needs.

It shouldn’t feel so good when his tongue licks into your mouth; when he presses a gloved hand against the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. Because even if Ayato can be quite underhanded, he never once tried to go beyond the boundaries you’ve set. But despite these sensations being very new to you…

They aren’t unwelcome.

When Ayato pulls away, his face is sweat-stricken, and lips a swollen red. From the tingling feeling prickling yours, you figure you’re in no better shape than he is.

“Why don’t you try kissing me like you mean it?” Ayato smiles, cheeks flushed. “You aren’t the Yashiro Commissioner’s perfect secretary for nothing, are you?”

A soft laugh bubbles in your throat. “Are you going to give me a raise if I do?”

“Maybe.”

Thankfully, that’s as far as his craftiness goes. Even if the both of you nearly stumble from being so inebriated, you manage to clean up with Ayato’s help. His office doubles as his bedroom during busier times of the year, and you can’t bring yourself to decline once he invites you under his spare futon.

“Ayaka’s going to tease me non-stop for this tomorrow,” you sigh, leaning your head against Ayato’s chest. “We better wake up earlier than she does.”

“My secretary is so responsible—already planning tomorrow’s agenda, are we?”

You kick him in the shin. Ayato simply laughs.

“…Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“I think I want to taste that drink you were talking about—the Paradiso,” you admit. “But as far as our plans for the next six months go, you don’t really have any dealings with Fontaine.”

Your lover gives your words a contemplative hum. “I wonder…why feel the need to drink that when you’ve already eaten my lotus a few years ago?”

.

.

.

“I’m leaving—”

“Heeeey, don’t be like that!” Ayato complains, arms circling your waist as you struggle to shrug him off. “It’s a figure of speech! When you got a taste of my company, you never left. You’re even sharing my bed now! Don’t you think that being by my side is as good as paradise?”

You scoff, face burning with embarrassment. “Aren’t you aware of how much I’ve been cleaning after your messes over the last five years?”

“I am, and they’re a testament to just how much you adore me,” he says cheekily. “Won’t you come back to bed now? Please?”

…Gods damn it. He knows you can’t refuse him like this.

“Happy birthday,” you grumble, easing yourself underneath the covers. “I hope you get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

“So harsh~” he teases, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “I love you, too.”

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

— dream a little (dream of me) ⟢

you're a modern-day succubus just trying to get by, and your superior, mister zhongli is next on your hit-list. but every time you invade his dreams, he becomes someone else entirely…

★ FEATURING; zhongli x succubus!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 23.3k words

★ TAGS; modern au, office au, superior-subordinate relationship, angst, like SO MUCH angst, zhongli dreams abt his past life as rex lapis, smut

★ WARNINGS; graphic sexual content (minors dni), some depictions of violence (it was the archon war so), reader gets drunk at some point in the story and a co-worker exhibits unwanted interest, near-death experiences, mentions of pregnancy

★ NOTES; this was the longest thing i've ever written in one sitting TT wrote it for 3 days straight, and i'm honestly still proud of it even a year later! take note that this was loosely based off a manhwa i read in passing called sweet dream, so if the plot is a liiittle familiar to you, that's probably why!

★ HEADER ART CR; donaldakron on twt

★ SMUT TAGS; sex dreams, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, clothed sex, i-thought-i-was-gonna-lose-you-forever sex, riding, the perfect balance of sweet and dirty talk, creampie

“Miss? Are you alright?”

You blink out the spots in your eyes when you hear Ganyu call out to you in a worried tone. She’s standing awkwardly by the side of your cubicle when you finally snap out of it, and you receive the documents in her hands with a rushed apology.

“Sorry, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately,” you reason, signing whatever she needs to have signed before handing it back. “This is nothing, though. Anything else you need?”

She hesitates for a moment, as if gauging whether or not she should pry, before speaking her mind. “Um, if you’re having trouble falling asleep, I could recommend a shop that sells qingxin petal tea. It’s based in Feiyun Slope, and I always order my stress relieving herbs from there.”

Despite the weight settling across your eyelids, you manage to flash Ganyu a gentle smile, tearing a blank Post-It off the pad on your desk before giving it to her. “Could you write down the name of the store? I’ll make sure to check it out before I head home for the night.”

Ganyu visibly perks up. “O-Of course!”

When she slides the piece of paper back onto your desk, the secretary exchanges farewells with a curt nod – saying she has to pass over the files for Mister Zhongli’s perusal before anything else. If Ganyu notices the way your staged grin falters, she doesn’t say anything. But once you’re alone, you can only slink back into your chair with a contemplative look on your face. 

You aren’t going to check out the store that Ganyu recommended like you initially promised. After all, your kind has never responded much to any sort of human medicine. Whatever’s bothering you is only going to be resolved if you stop being stubborn and fed on time – something you only care to do once a month at most. 

Even after living your life as a succubus for almost twenty-four years, the idea of having to draw out your life force from… that still made you sick to your stomach. It’s bad enough that your strange constitution wouldn’t let you settle down and have normal relationships, but having to constantly find a source of nutrition is a pain in and of itself. 

Your body has quite the standard for the men you’re supposed to suck some sexual energy out of, too. When you indiscriminately pick some rando you saw on the street, you might not effectively absorb the energy you harvested if you aren’t invested enough.

Case in point: unless you try to sleep with someone you remotely care about in their dreams, you’re going to keep craving for a proper fix.

Last month, you had to terrorize the poor barista who’s been serving you coffee at that new café across the street. You thought he wouldn’t think much of it, since you had the inkling the guy was hitting on you every time you ordered. But lo and behold, mister charming, suave barista is actually quite timid when it goes down to it. Your sessions usually took an hour at most to complete and you wouldn’t have to harvest energy again for at least another month. But that guy? You could barely ask him to strip without having to deal with him stumbling out of his dream-bed out of sheer embarrassment. Took you three hours in that dreamscape just to get the bare minimum out of him. And that just goes to show that the people you meet aren’t always what they seem to be – yourself included.

As entertaining as that session turned out though, you couldn’t really make substantial progress with mister barista, which eventually led to your premature hunger pangs. You started feeling a bit off-kilter last week, but you made the mistake of listing it off as nothing but a seasonal flu or something. Once your co-workers caught wind of how exhausted you are at work, you knew it was that time of the month again.

You can always just make up for the minimal energy gain of harvesting from a complete stranger by invading multiple strangers’ dreams, but you still have some shred of dignity. Well, you could just settle with the men in your department, but those slobs are the last ones you’d ever consider sleeping with. But then again, your team is working on a big, end-of-year project that you can’t afford to slack off on, so you need to find this month’s match before your body shuts down completely – even if that means seducing your awful desk neighbor in his sleep.

“Hard at work again, I see.”

You startle at the sound of a deep-seated voice coming from behind you, whisking your chair around to see your boss showing you a kind smile. It isn’t unusual for Zhongli to do some rounds in the office, but –

“Ganyu was looking for you, sir,” you blurt out, trying not to focus on how his neatly pressed tie compliments his eyes. “She had me sign some documents for the project you asked me to oversee, and it seems like she was on her way to your office.”

He hums. “I see. I just made a quick trip to the pantry, but I’ve yet to figure out how one operates the machine they installed in the break room. That’s why I just asked my assistant to purchase a drink from the coffee shop down the street… Are you alright? You’re looking quite pale.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been better,” you lie, trying to force out those memories of too-timid-for-his-own-good barista out of your head. “I’ll make sure to follow up on my assigned report at the end of the week, sir.” 

Once again, your senses jolt to life when you feel a large, comforting palm settle on your aching shoulders, giving you a few pats. The sincerity in Zhongli’s eyes doesn’t fade, and you’re seriously wondering how he has it to be so encouraging all the time.

“Everyone deserves to rest when their bodies require it,” he says. “Don’t hesitate to file for sick leave if you’re unable to perform at your fullest because of health reasons. I didn’t overhaul the employee benefits clause in your contracts for nothing.”

Your face heats up at the thought of your boss being this considerate of your well-being. You’ve been working at Wangsheng Corporation for almost two years now, but employees have never been treated the way Zhongli treats them. It’s a miracle that he got transferred here last month – with his gentle voice and mindfulness of others. When he walked through the doors of your department that day, the last thing you expected was a compassionate superior, given that all those assholes in the corporate ladder only cared about money and none else. He was easily a breath of fresh air in the smog of Liyue Harbor, and you’re not about to complain.

“I best be on my way,” he tells you with a hint of remorse. “I’ll be attending a board meeting in thirty minutes. Once it’s been adjourned, you can come to me if you need anything.”

Come to him if you need anything…  

For some reason, his words ring inside your head longer than they have to. But before you can even get your bearings straight, your mind is suddenly plagued with images of your boss in a more sensual setting. 

You picture a Zhongli who’s free from the stifling confines of his suit – regardless of how dashing he looks in it, you always wondered what he would look like dressed down. You imagine him lying on his bed, golden eyes half-lidded as he beckons you closer; how his hot breath would make your skin tingle as he whispers all the lewd things he wishes to do with you – 

“Of course, sir,” you tell him in real life, mustering up a smile that’s enough to hide your own embarrassment. “Thank you for taking the time to stop by.”

Zhongli raises a hand to wave at you before sauntering off to his office, leaving you alone with lecherous thoughts and a growling stomach. But the moment the door clicks shut behind him, you come to a guilty conclusion.

Guess I already found this month’s target. 

The hardest part, you think, is falling asleep before feeding.

You’re still at odds with everything you had to do just to survive, so of course you’ll feel a bit queasy when you lay on your bed in preparation. Whether it’s that one cute barista or your attractive boss, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re nervous beyond belief. Navigating a person’s dreamscape is just as tricky as it sounds, and if you aren’t careful, the slightest mishap can lead to unwanted casualties. Worst case scenario: you might get trapped in the dream until the person you’re feeding off of wakes up. 

But you can trust your worrisome nature to keep that from happening. The only instance you’d ever get trapped in someone else’s dream is if you lose touch with your own existence within it. That’s why you tend to limit the degree of pleasure you feel in the dreamscape during your feedings. Orgasms are one of the many things that make people, succubi included, lose their grip on reality, so you make sure not to experience such a thing, no matter how tempting it could be at times. And while there are no explicit rules stating that your kind isn’t allowed to indulge in the desires of the flesh – let’s face it, you’re basically a sex demon – you’ve always been too afraid to lose yourself in something that isn’t even real.

You heave a deep sigh as you pull the covers up to your chest. It feels a bit humid lately, so you opted to wear a loose nightgown – one flimsy enough to hopefully tempt Zhongli in his dreams. In spite of the impeccable decorum he exhibits at work, surely he’s still just a man under all those layers of courteousness, right? Humans tend to be more unhinged during your feeding sessions (sans mister timid barista). If the Zhongli that regularly checks up on you at work would exercise more self-restraint, maybe he won’t be as gentlemanly once you hijack his dreams.

The plan is set in stone. Fall asleep, make your way into Zhongli’s head, have sex with him, and make a run for it. You’ve outlined the same plan of action during your previous feedings, so this shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Still, a small part of you still feels the bite of guilt for intruding on your boss’ peaceful night like this. In what little time he’s spent at Wangsheng Corporation, you can already call him the best superior you’ve ever had, and choosing him as your sacrificial lamb makes it seem as if you have no sense of indebtedness to him. But at the end of the day, you’re just a baser creature with needs to tend to or else you can’t move forward as a fully functioning member of society. 

Surprisingly, you doze off much quicker than usual. This must be from the fatigue you accumulated over the past week. Well, that’s what you get for not feeding the moment you started to feel something was off. Either way, you’re en-route to your boss’ subconscious and you’re going to feel much better right after the trip.

The in-between that connects your dream to Zhongli’s looks just like everyone else’s – a dark, narrow corridor that opens up to a light at the end. You traverse the familiar path with bare feet, not so much in a rush despite how hungry you are. Whether it’s your hesitation to use your boss like this holding you back or something else entirely, you’re not very sure. But once you finally step into the light, you close your eyes and hold your breath.

When you come to, you find yourself inside a wide cavern – making your face scrunch up in confusion once your mind processes your surroundings. You expected to appear in a bedroom in his apartment, maybe. But as you glance around the barely illuminated cave, you realize that your timing is incredibly off since Zhongli must have been having a weird dream. It’s happened once before when the person you were supposed to feed on dreamt of living inside the latest superhero movie he saw. Maybe Zhongli watched a strange documentary before heading to bed. That totally sounds like something he’d do.

You decide to have a closer look, noticing that the only sources of light inside are the stone torches perched on the sides of the cavern. Your curiosity gets the better of you when you attempt to approach the flames. But that plan is immediately thwarted once you accidentally step on something solid underfoot. It breaks underneath your weight – the sound echoing deeper into the cave. 

You can’t feel any sort of breeze inside, which cements your assumption that the corridor leads to a dead end. Something tells you that you’ll cross paths with another soul if you press forward, but your instincts, however flimsy they might be inside a dream, insist that you go back. To just forget about trying to feed today and just try again tomorrow. Maybe Zhongli wouldn’t be dreaming about weird tunnels by then. None of this is real, but the dread that’s slowly festering in the pit of your stomach is too apparent to ignore.

But it’s as if your body isn’t your own at the moment. Instead of heeding your own sense of danger, your feet carry you further into the darkness – making your imaginary heart pound with both anticipation and fear in equal measure. 

Your hunch is proven right when you spot a lone figure at the end of the cavern – observing you from afar where he’s seated rather comfortably. He has one elbow perched on the armrest of his seat, the side of his face resting atop a closed fist. You’re unable to recognize who he is at first, but once you’ve crossed the threshold of the man’s vicinity, you feel a pang of surprise surge through your veins.

“Mister Zhongli...?” 

No matter how closely you looked, he's the spitting image of your boss. However, it dawns on you half a second later that he is not the kind-hearted man you've been working with for the past month. This one sits atop a throne of jagged rock, golden antlers sprouting beneath his hood as eyes of a deeper shade glower on with disdain. 

“I do not remember giving you permission to speak,” he says, voice reminding you of untamed tremors deep within the earth – resonating with every word. “You best know your place before I'm forced to remind you of it.”

Back in your bedroom, you awake with a start.

Your heart threatens to bust out of your own rib cage with how hard it pounds against it – as if it’s barely catching up to what you just witnessed and heard. You’ve never once pulled yourself out of a dream so quickly, but there’s just something about that version of Zhongli that sets off every code-red alarm inside your head. That isn’t someone you’re going to easily seduce with a see-through nightgown and a bat of your eyelashes. In fact, that man (was he even human?!) looked like he could kill you if he wanted. 

“What the fuck?” you mutter, throwing the covers off yourself as you watch your hands tremble in your lap. “Who the hell was that…?”

You don’t have the slightest clue why you’re so shaken up. You’ve seen weirder dreamscapes in the past, but for some reason, when you stepped inside Zhongli’s, everything looked so life-like. As if you were actually transported to a real location in this world. If you actively tried to recall the details, you could’ve sworn you felt the gravel on your feet and caught the archaic scent of stone in the air. But what could a strange-looking Zhongli be doing inside such a place? You knew better than to assume there was a rhyme and reason behind a person’s dreams, but –

The sound of your ringtone going off nearly scares the living daylights out of you before you cast a frantic stare at the nightstand. There, your phone vibrates in time with the obnoxious noise, and you force yourself to get a grip. It’s over. You managed to escape whatever harrowing fate you could have ended up with had you stayed in Zhongli’s dream for even a second longer. There’s no use mulling over it now, is there?

Without checking who was insane enough to call you at this hour, you speak. “H-Hello?” 

“Hello. I do have the right number, yes?”

It takes you a moment for your mind to register the voice at the end of the line – that smooth baritone that you’ll never get tired of hearing. Of course Zhongli’s going to ring you up out of nowhere after that. 

If it were any other day, you would have swooned at the notion of your superior calling you so late, but this seems a bit too coincidental for comfort. The recurring joke that Zhongli can be a little bit of an airhead has been going around your department for a few weeks now, but sometimes you forget that he can still be as sharp as a whip. Could he have sensed something amiss from the dream you gave him? How did he even get your number?

“Sir,” you greet him as evenly as you can. “Is there something wrong?”

Zhongli is silent for a moment, as if deliberating the words. “Hmm… Nothing in particular. My apologies for disturbing you beyond work hours, but I feel like I had something to tell you but regrettably forgot.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, shifting on top of your bed as you swing your legs over the edge. “Well, if it’s about the report you assigned, I won’t be able to give you the numbers until the end of the week, sir.”

“You’re mistaken. My inquiry isn’t about work,” he tells you, chuckling in a way that makes you blush for some reason. “It’s something a bit personal…yet I can’t seem to put my finger on it.”

“...Is it important enough that you couldn’t wait until tomorrow to discuss it?”

Alright, maybe you spoke a little out of line there. He’s your superior, yes, but your mind is still a bit frazzled from your earlier encounter in the dream. Zhongli certainly sounds like someone that just woke up, and while you like to entertain the idea that you’re the first person he thought about the moment his eyes opened, it’s not enough to dispel your unease. 

“Forgive me. Calling you at this hour does seem out of turn –” It is out of turn. “– but I had quite the odd dream. I can’t remember what exactly took place anymore, but I do remember you being in it.”

Calm down. He doesn’t remember the details – not that he had a lot to remember anyways. You could have sworn you only lasted two minutes in his head before scampering back to your own body because that’s how terrified you were. What’s even there to recall about it?

“I see,” you play along. “Maybe you were dreaming about work like usual. You do seem a bit more dedicated to your job than most.”

Zhongli breathes out another laugh that makes your insides tingle. Why does he sound infinitely sexier fresh out of slumber? “You really think that?” 

“Wouldn’t dream of anyone who does your job better than you do, sir.”

You wonder, at the last minute, if you said the right thing. But Zhongli lets out a satisfied hum from the other line, coupled with the sound of fabric rustling in the background. You try not to picture what he must look like right now – disheveled hair, unkempt sheets, drowsy eyes – but the image makes its way to your head regardless. The Zhongli you’re speaking to is already so different from the man you met in his dreams, and you can’t even see him right now. 

“I suppose I’ve taken up enough of your precious time,” he murmurs, sounding more and more apologetic by the minute. “Thank you for answering my call, regardless of what little value our conversation tonight harbored. I’ll see you tomorrow at the office, hopefully when I’m in a better state of mind.”

Better state of mind, he says. So Zhongli was affected by that dream, too…

But that’s something you can definitely think about later.

“Anytime, sir,” you reply. “Good night.”

“You’re looking worse and worse each day, you know that?”

This time, the person who bothers you at your cubicle is none other than your superior, Director Hu Tao. Though, even if she holds the highest position in the Wangsheng chain-of-command, she’s a bit too free-spirited to call a proper boss. 

She watches you slave away behind your laptop with folded arms, not looking the least bit amused. Though she wasn’t really meant to know, the director is one of the few people – more like, the only person – who’s aware of what you are and what you do to survive. It’s probably because Hu Tao comes from a family with deeper connections to all things supernatural, and thankfully, she’s more understanding of your predicament than you’d otherwise expect. 

In fact, she was kind enough to let you keep your job so long as you don’t let your…special needs affect your work. But for all of Hu Tao’s usual antics in the office, you know there’s no escaping her when she gets serious about something.

Especially when she’s nagging you about feeding intervals.

“When’s the last time, hm?” she asks, poking your cheek. “Aiya, you’ve lost the flab on your face. Come on, how am I supposed to pinch them now?” 

“About a month ago,” you grumble as you revise an important email for the fifth time today. “Director, shouldn’t you be in your office? I heard from Ganyu that you’ve been passing your work onto Mister Zhongli.”

“Pah, the consultant can deal with all the trifling matters in my stead.” Hu Tao shrugs. “Besides, he’s the one who started advocating for better employee conditions in this dump, right? I’m just making sure my subordinates are healthy and happy in the workplace~”

Speaking of Zhongli, it’s been a while since you saw him around. The last time you heard his voice was the night he called you out of nowhere – the same night you hijacked his dreams. Now, it’s already the end of the week and you’re yet to meet with Zhongli despite the deadline he gave you days prior. 

“I can hook you up with a bunch of guys I know,” Hu Tao suggests, unceremoniously swinging herself on top of your desk. “All you have to do is get inside their heads and do the magic, right? Hmm… If that’s the case, why don’t you just pick a random celebrity or something?”

“It doesn’t work that way, director,” you sigh. “If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be having this problem every month.” 

“Ehh, you’re so choosy.” She pouts. “If sharing a dream with strangers doesn’t work, why don’t you just come after them in real life? Nothing beats the real thing, right?”

You’re mildly aware of how loudly Hu Tao started to mouth off about your…predicament, but fortunately it was the middle of lunch break, and none of your desk neighbors were present to overhear. Pushing your chair from beneath the desk, you breathe in deep as you consider the director’s words. 

In hindsight, she was right. You know a bunch of succubi and incubi who copulate with humans nearly everyday – more because they’re weird sex addicts than them trying to last themselves to the next day. But you were drawing blanks as to how you’re going to explain to Hu Tao that the creatures she might have heard about have sex to enjoy it; you have sex to survive. The act itself still makes you squirm, so even if you have attempted to harvest energy in real life, you’d rather steer clear of resorting to that if you could still do the same thing in an unsuspecting man’s dreams.

But now, you aren’t even able to squeeze the tiniest ounce of sexual energy from your usual method. Hence, the problem.

“I’ll think about it,” you half-promise, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. “Oh, and if you see Mister Zhongli anywhere, could you tell him I’m done with my report? I was going to ask when he’d like to see it, but I haven’t seen him around lately.”

“Hm? Oh, right. I asked that guy to secure a deal with a Snezhnayan diplomat who’s visiting Liyue over the season,” Hu Tao tells you before hopping back to the floor. “Well, hope you get some sustenance soon, little devil. Wouldn’t want to find you all shrivelled up from sex deprivation one day.”

“Director, please…”

“Hahaha! Just teasing~”

Hu Tao hums a lively tune once she scampers away, and you’re left staring at the blinking cursor on your screen. The email you were drafting is supposed to be sent to the PR officer of the company you’re trying to scout with your report-slash-proposal attached as an extra file. But you can’t send it in without Zhongli’s green light. What’s worse is that it’s starting to get busy in the office at this time. The end of the year is the most hectic, and you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to the hustle and bustle that comes with it. It would make sense why Zhongli is suddenly hard to catch.

And your feeding shortage just had to coincide with all of this.

You pull out a hand mirror from your bag, inspecting the way your face looks. Eyebags and chapped lips can easily be concealed with makeup but it’s more difficult to mask the way you’re abnormally losing weight. Even Hu Tao was able to notice it right away. If only eating human food actually contributed to your body mass…

“Tonight for sure,” you mutter – knowing damn well that your words are only worth half a promise.

In all honesty, you don’t put much thought into the exact time of your feedings. You just lay in bed, get into the minds of your targets, and hope both of you fell asleep at the same time. It’s no different on your second attempt at harvesting energy from Zhongli.

You don’t call him, don’t text him. You don’t even bother trying to get some inside information about his sleeping habits from Ganyu. So when you attempt to just wing it one more time, you’re a little surprised to find yourself transported into the dreamscape – a wave of relief washing over you when you realize you’re not inside a cave anymore. 

You’re seated at the side of a river surrounded by ruins as far as the eye can see. The sound of flowing water fills your ears, a sound you almost find calming. Someone calls a name that doesn't belong to you, but your body responds to it either way when you turn your head around curiously. 

Zhongli stands in front of you, carrying a basket of sunsettias. He doesn’t look as intimidating as the first time you saw him in his dreams, but he’s donned with the same hooded robe, and the same gold-tipped antlers. The cruelty imbued in his gaze in that cavern has long gone – replaced with quiet sincerity that’s reminiscent of the one he exudes in the office. You feel your shoulders relax at the sight of him, but… 

Something doesn’t feel right.

He folds his legs at your side, and when he speaks, you hear nothing but a garbled, faraway noise. But despite not understanding a single word he says, you let out the occasional laugh, sometimes nodding along to Zhongli’s words before biting into one of the fruits he foraged. The wind whistles through the reeds in the overrun marsh, and all you can do is admire your companion’s autumn vesper eyes as you partake in a conversation only he understands. 

But when you suddenly inch closer to him – caressing his face with a hand that isn’t your own – that’s when you finally realize what was amiss.

“Rex,” the woman whose body you hijacked murmurs fondly, the sleeves of her dress billowing in the breeze. “You should give yourself more credit. The faith of the people has always been well-founded.”

Zhongli gazes at you (at her) with wide eyes before the look melts into a fit of chuckles. His lips move in response to what the woman said and, still, you don’t catch any of it. But when your eyes drift to where his strong arms peeked from the holes of his robe, you’re surprised to see his hands shining like molten amber in the waning light. Golden veins can be seen jutting across his forearms, eventually connecting to the odd patterns depicted on his bicep. The longer you stare, the more you question why your boss made himself look so godly in his dreams. As humble as he is, he does look highly of himself after all.

Turns out, you’re not the only one who was ogling Zhongli in the most inopportune moment. It seems like the woman you’re possessing(?) also treated herself to some eye candy the same time you did, and now you can feel your face heat up with embarrassment when he catches you staring. 

You expect him to laugh it off like usual. Your boss gets thrown compliments everyday since he started working at Wangsheng – compliments that never seem to do him enough justice. But he takes them all in stride before resuming the conversation like nothing happened. This Zhongli does none of that.

One of his strange, golden hands seizes your wrist tightly – your bashfulness suddenly morphing into confusion. Zhongli’s mouth twitches into something akin to a smile as he presses forward, forcing you to lean back to introduce as much space between you as possible. You can feel his breath fan against your face – cor lapis eyes glowing with desire – and you’re too stunned to retaliate. His other hand forces itself against the ground next to your hip, caging you in the heat of his embrace. Zhongli speaks again, and you’re starting to feel annoyed with the fact that you can’t make sense of what he’s even saying. But you can’t exactly relish in the feeling much because your body is reaching a fever pitch that’s making your head spin.

This is what you came here to do, isn’t it? Sure, you’re not really the person he’s seeing right now, but anything to get the deed done, right? All you had to do was suck out the sexual energy emanating from the god of a man that’s about to ravish you out in the open. Easy as pie.

His mouth latches onto yours in a way that’s almost familiar – which tells you that this isn’t the first time that Zhongli and this woman met each other so intimately. You respond in kind, letting your borrowed body take the reins as you feel him nudging apart the lapels of your dress, exposing supple breasts to the humid air. A full shudder runs across your skin when he growls against your lips, one arm curling around your waist before Zhongli possessively pulls you to his chest. 

Mine. 

You don’t hear his voice, but you feel the intent resonate all the way to your core as he practically tears off your clothes. Zhongli rests you atop the grass with little care for possible on-lookers, rolling his hips against yours as he decorates your neck with lovebites. Your fingers rake through his long, dark tresses – imprinting the image in your head for years to come. Your boss Zhongli always ties his hair with a jewel-encrusted band, so this version is definitely one for the books. 

I should’ve done this sooner, you think to yourself – whimpering when you feel the ridge of his cock straining against your middle. Much sooner… 

The rest of the details are lost in the muddled haze of your thoughts. You don’t remember if Zhongli even prepared you for what’s to come – all you know is the feel of his length prodding your slickened entrance. His grip on your body never falters even as the tip of his cock glides teasingly across your slit. You desperately move your hips closer, begging for the friction he’s holding over your head like a prize. But then, you meet his deep, amber gaze and for a moment, his eyes seem to soften in the midst of his lustful display.

When he kisses you again, your heart – this woman’s heart – comes alive. You can feel how much love she harbors, how she aches for him despite the fact that Zhongli’s hands roam around her body with the intent to leave no inch of skin untouched. 

I love you. That’s the only thought that echoes in your mind when he finally takes you – here, by the riverbank where you were the only two people in the world. These emotions aren’t your own, but you feel a surge so intense that you gasp aloud when Zhongli presses himself into you deep enough to make your vision blur. It all feels so real that you don’t even notice it when you naturally absorb the energy you’re meant to take in the first place. 

You’re not sure how it’s supposed to work in this situation, given that the body you’re using isn’t even yours. But you practically feel how Zhongli’s libido indirectly rejuvenates your spirits. Despite the fact that you’re being pounded in the middle of nowhere, you feel more refreshed – mind clearer as opposed to the jumbled mess it’s been over the past week. You never actually realize how your hunger can drive you into so much lethargy until you’re finally given the clarity of your sated instincts. 

“I don’t care for the humans like you do.”

You startle when you finally hear Zhongli’s familiar voice – hoarse with need, but still the same one you’ve come to admire. His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts his hips relentlessly, with a desperation you can almost see on his face. The woman lets out a sigh before she caresses his face with a gentle hand, thumb gently sweeping across the cut of his cheekbone. 

“You will,” she murmurs. “You’re their god, Rex. Their archon. You might not have any love for them now, but in time, you’ll understand.”

Her reply seems to irritate him. You watch as those golden eyes flash yellow with rage, but Zhongli is quick to manage the split-second shift in his emotions. Instead of lashing out, he buries his face into your neck, murmuring so softly, you almost didn’t catch the words.

“You’re the only one I’ll truly care for,” he says, fingers raking through your hair as he stills – filling you with the white hot rush of his release.

“I hope you know that will never change, Guizhong.”

There are two things that you end up mulling over when you finally get back to your own body. The first is the fact that Zhongli has way too hyperactive an imagination. About ninety-five percent of your feedings take place in your targets’ bedrooms, so having sex in the middle of a field is quite the new experience for you. The second is how your boss might actually have a girlfriend and you just…gleaned your monthly sustenance from him. Just like that. 

Your latter realization took you the fuck out. The moment you woke up, you marched into your kitchen, popped open whatever cans of beer you had inside the refrigerator, and decided to contemplate your actions for a long time. You typically don’t think about whether or not the person you’re feeding on has a significant other because…you’re not exactly committing adultery if it only takes place in their dreams, right? It isn’t supposed to be a big deal unless they try to make a move on you in real life. But thinking about how you unknowingly trespassed on an ultra hidden fantasy that Zhongli must’ve been having about his girlfriend introduces a spectrum of emotions that you’re too tired to sort out. Embarrassment, regret, shame. Those are just some of the things you’re feeling right now, and hopefully a six-pack is going to be enough to drown your not-so sorrows.

…On the bright side, at least you don’t feel like shit anymore. As you finish your third can of beer tonight, you make the effort to take a look at yourself in the mirror. The color in your cheeks has returned, as well as the so-called flab that Hu Tao misses so much. Those dark circles beneath your eyes have gone too, and admittedly, you haven’t seen your skin glow so much since your last successful feeding two months prior. 

But even if this is a cause for celebration – because finally, you won’t have to deal with those nasty hunger pangs again for at least another month – you can’t find it in you to be pleased with your results. 

You’re still a bit…conflicted with what you saw in Zhongli’s dream. You assumed it was just some weird fictional fantasy of his, but you’ve been inside the dreams of other men often enough to know that your boss’ dreamscape is a lot different from the rest. You’re yet to put a finger on the rhyme and reason behind your logic, but the experience filled you with the kind of curiosity that’ll get you in trouble one of these days.

“No more prying into your boss’ private life,” you say, pointing at your reflection in the mirror with a frown. “You are not a homewrecker. Got that?”

Now that you’ve recovered from being “under the weather”, all that’s left is to get your work quota over with before the year ends. You’re practically brimming with ideas now that you’re finally in the right headspace to brainstorm about the project that Zhongli entrusted you with. As you pop open your fourth beer alongside your laptop, you’re quite horrified to see the mess of a proposal that you worked on during the onslaught of your physiological suffering. Dear gods, you’re never going to deprive yourself like that again. It’s a good thing you waited for Zhongli’s approval first or else, you might’ve made a fool out of yourself to your clients.

When you finally finish proofreading and making all the appropriate edits, you hop into the shower for a nice, hot bath. And when you crawl underneath the covers, the smooth glide of your sheets feels like heaven against your skin. But regardless of how comfortable you are in your own bed; how relaxed you feel for the first time in weeks, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep as easily as you’d like. 

Every time you close your eyes, all you can see is a man with molten gold irises and branches sprouting from his rich brown hair. You can even remember the smidge of red decorating the fine line of his lashes if you recalled the dream vividly enough. But the moment you start thinking about how he spread you apart and had his way with you –

I’m fucked, you realize as you wrench your eyes open – staring at the ceiling as if it’ll show you even an ounce of sympathy. I am so fucked.

Little did you know that ‘fucked’ is the understatement of the century.

“Ganyu, can I ask you something?”

The next day, you coincidentally find yourself sharing a table with Zhongli’s secretary during your lunch break. Ganyu looks up from the salad she’s been happily feasting on and flashes you a questioning look. “Of course. How can I help, miss?”

You pause for a while – deliberating whether it’s even worth looking into at the last minute – but you’ve already bothered Ganyu so… 

“Do you know a woman named Guizhong?”

You’re purposely avoiding her gaze when you bring up the question, casually sticking your fork into the food you ordered at the office cafeteria. But when you notice how Ganyu fell silent for too long, you flick your gaze back to her in the most casual way you can manage. To your surprise, she’s staring at you like you just insulted your family.

“H-How did you hear of that name?”

Brows raised, you offer a nonchalant shrug. “Hmm… I was looking through some old company records and found that name listed in the contacts. I just thought you might know who she is.”

You’re not even sure Ganyu is even going to take the bait for that white lie. There is absolutely no one who knows Wangsheng’s documents better than she does. This woman used to work under the Liyue Qixing, so it’s only natural for her to be meticulous in every aspect of her duties. But instead of laying suspicion on you like you expected her to do, Ganyu seemingly heaves a relieved sigh. 

“Well, yes. Miss Guizhong was one of the company’s contacts, but…” She bites her lip, fingers drumming nervously on her thigh. “Please refrain from mentioning that name to Mister Zhongli. As for the reason, it’s…quite complicated. I hope you understand why I can’t disclose any further, miss.”

…So Guizhong is a real person. A real person that Zhongli cares about deeply. But from the way Ganyu responded to your question, things might’ve gone awry between them at some point. 

Why do you feel…relieved all of a sudden? 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” you promise – this time, you mean it. “I was just a bit curious.”

The secretary nods. “Mister Zhongli should be coming back today as scheduled. I’ve already gone over your proposal like you asked, and I don’t see any flaws in your plans, miss. I’m certain he’ll approve of it.”

Way to shift the topic of conversation. You might’ve applauded her for how smoothly she made that transition, but Ganyu just indirectly reminded you to keep your head in place. There’s still work to do, and you shouldn’t spend what little time you have fretting about your boss’ not-girlfriend. 

“Copy that,” you tell her, finishing the rest of your food with a newfound resolve.

When Zhongli finally arrives back at the office, you make sure to act like you usually do – timid yet just a touch daring when needed. You presented your proposal to Zhongli and the board of directors, since your boss insisted that they’re entitled to study its contents last minute. The idea of having an on-the-spot address makes you queasier than the moments leading up to your monthly feeding. But the entire time, the expectant stares of your other superiors didn’t faze you as much. All you can really focus on, aside from the important points you’ve outlined, are the vibrant gold of Zhongli’s eyes – peering from the nearest seat in the front in silent observation.

He looks so composed, like a slab of unmovable stone. You find it quite difficult to believe that your boss and the man who shows up in his dreams – the one with unruly hair and golden ichor horns – are the same person.

Once you’re finished speaking, the board begins to ask questions one by one – clarifying some things they wanted you to expound on. Thankfully, you’ve gone over your report multiple times before coming into the office this morning. Whatever inquiry they could throw at you, you justified with answers based on the sufficient data you’ve gathered over the past two weeks. You have to admit that being on the receiving end of their impressed stares is doing things to your ego, but what’s important is that your proposal has been pretty much approved. Nothing beats a sense of accomplishment, after all.

Zhongli is kind enough to escort you back to your cubicle, but you insist on dropping by the pantry first for a much-needed coffee break. You tell him that it’s alright if he doesn’t stick around if he has other matters to attend to, but it seems that your boss is going to take his time giving you his brunt of the praise.

“You did well. Far exceeded my expectations, even.” He smiles so radiantly that you can almost feel your chest twist with an unfamiliar feeling. “My apologies for suddenly disappearing all of a sudden. I was planning to help you work out the necessary details for this, but something else came up at the last minute. Though I know this all sounds like me making up petty reasons for my absence.”

You shake your head, taking a sip on your cup of instant coffee. “Not at all! Director Hu told me about your dealings with a Snezhnayan diplomat, so I figured that I needed to step up one way or another.”

Zhongli’s expression morphs into something unreadable before he reaches for one of the paper cups stashed away – filling it with cold water from the dispenser. “Is that what she’s told you all?” he sighs, taking a long gulp of his drink before setting the cup down on the table. “That child… I’m aware she has her way of running things in this company, but she needn’t lie about my whereabouts.”

…Lie? Wait, what exactly did Hu Tao –

“Since I forced you to spearhead such an important project alone, I might as well let you in on the truth,” he laughs softly, lips pressed into a small smile. “Would that make for sufficient compensation?”

You swallow the lump in your throat, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. “Um, you don’t have to if it’s a touchy subject, sir. I respect that we all have lives outside of work.”

“I insist,” Zhongli says, leaning against the wall without breaking eye contact. “It’s also a…means for me to ‘let out some steam’, as the director might’ve put it. But I won’t divulge anything you don’t wish to hear, of course.”

You take a moment to mull over his words. Is he saying that he wants to open up to you or something? Well…

“I don’t mind,” you reply, feeling the skin of your fingertips buzz underneath the heat of your cup. Anticipation –  that’s what you’re feeling. “You can tell me anything, sir. And I swear upon my end-of-year bonus that I won’t share it to a single soul.”

Your boss flashes you another smile, shaking his head in amusement. “I’m grateful for your promise of confidentiality. You truly are a worthwhile companion.”

“...As for the real reason behind my absence, no I did not meet with a non-existent envoy from Snezhnaya. I made a three-day trip to Guili Plains.” Zhongli speaks each word carefully, as if not wanting you to miss a beat. “You and the rest of the department aren’t familiar with such a tradition that I make sure to uphold every year, since I was just newly transferred. Ganyu, however, has known me long enough to know that I pay the cemetery there a visit during this season if time permits it.”

The break room is quiet, save for the ever-present hum of the water dispenser. You don’t know why, but there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that tells you you’re not going to like what he’s going to say next.

“When I was still pursuing my Bachelor’s, I had this…friend,” he continues, eyes trailing up to the ceiling as if reminiscing about a better time in his life. “A friend that I held closer to my heart than anyone else. We were supposed to build a company that could change the world together – a pipe dream that youths often pour their souls into when they think they can do anything and everything they desire.

“But one day, that friend fell ill all of a sudden. We both thought it was just a mild sickness, nothing so severe that we should fret about it.” He sighs, and you can see how his mild-mannered demeanor makes way for the sorrow that roots itself on his face. You’ve never seen Zhongli look so…downcast before. It makes you want to reach out and pull him into an embrace, but you know better than to overstep your boundaries. “I’m sure you know where this leads. Turns out, the disease wasn’t just an ordinary coughing fit. She was diagnosed with lung cancer and died of it faster than I could even complete my final semester in college.” 

“I-I’m sorry,” you blurt out all of a sudden – the shock on your face surfacing too suddenly for you to hide. “Oh, gods. You didn’t have to tell me this if it pains you to remember sir –”

“None of that,” Zhongli interjects, waving a hand in dismissal. “I chose to tell you this tale, didn’t I? Insisted, even. So you don’t need to worry about my grief, as this is something that I’ve long come to terms with.” 

Holy shit. Now you feel twice as terrible for feeling relieved that things between him and Guizhong have gone south. It’s all because she was dead. Great, now the fates are probably going to turn you into a lizard in your next life just to call it quits or something. But you don’t really have much room for those self-deprecating thoughts after everything Zhongli just told you.

“Guili Plains is quite far from here,” you comment, choosing your words carefully. “Did she live there? 

Zhongli hums. “Yes and no. The two of us lived together here in Liyue Harbor while we completed our studies, but she grew up in Guili. They’re no longer growing there today, but she used to tell me about how much she loved the glaze lilies that bloomed outside of her childhood home.”

…A ‘friend’ he used to live with. A ‘friend’ he held closer to his heart than anyone else. If there are awards for being the worst at masking hidden details, Zhongli is definitely raking everything in. Though you suppose now’s not the time to be nitpicking about your boss’ lack of subtlety. 

“How long has it been?” you ask. “If…you don’t mind me asking.”

“I think we’re both past the point of minding,” he chuckles, despite everything, and you can hardly believe it. “But…it’s been six years since she passed.”

Six years, and he still dreams of her.

You nod slowly before finishing the rest of your coffee – now cold with how long you took to drink it. 

“Thank you for sharing all this to me, sir. I–I…don’t know what to say,” you admit. 

“Nor do I expect you to say anything at all,” he tells you. “Just having an ear to listen to my…troubles is worth more than all the mora in this company combined. It’s quite rare for me to find anyone willing to hear me out.”

You wonder if it’s because of Zhongli’s picture perfect image that no one would stop to think that he experiences the same things everyone does. He grieves. He loves. He even lays himself vulnerable like this. Hell, you wouldn’t even dare to imagine Zhongli being anything but the unflawed superior everyone knows and adores if he never spoke about this at all. 

But he did. He trusted you enough to share a part of himself that he doesn’t just let anyone else know about. Whether it was just to repay your so-called stellar performance or something else, you’re grateful for his faith in you either way.

All of a sudden, you stride closer to Zhongli – the sound of you bumping against the side of the table at your urgency surprising him a bit. Before you can slip-up any further, you hold out your hand as you cast him a determined stare. 

“I’ll be looking forward to working on this project with you.”

Zhongli is at a loss for words for a while, those deep amber eyes alternating between your face and your outstretched hand. You wonder if he thinks you’re doing some sort of alien gesture. But in the end, your worries are dispelled the moment he shakes it gingerly.

“I feel the exact same way,” Zhongli says – in a much brighter tone now that the storm has passed. 

You just hope it will be a while before the clouds roll overhead once more.

The days pass by before you know it.

Along with the end of the year comes the beginning of your newest project. Zhongli was kind enough to lay all the groundwork in your stead, and all you had to do was secure some due partnerships with other companies residing in Yujing Terrace. With just a bit more convincing, you might even get the Liyue Qixing to become one of the official sponsors for the event, especially with someone like Ganyu by your side. Rumor has it that she’s one of Lady Ningguang’s favorite secretaries, until Zhongli whisked her away. You just prayed that she won’t take your boss’ past history of secretary-nabbing personally. 

Your reputation has slowly picked up in your department as well. For the past two years, you were always careful about the connections you made because even if Hu Tao is privy to your unique constitution, you’ll be forced to switch locations if someone catches wind that you’re a succubus. You’re certain that the director could pull a few strings if something like that ever happened, but you never really liked relying on others too much – more so making them share your burdens.

At least, that’s how things were before Zhongli entrusted you with such an important task.

“There’s a drinking party somewhere at Chihu Rock – one of the newbies is treating,” Zhang, the desk neighbor you used to hate so much, informs you as he stuffs his laptop into his backpack. “The girls from accounting asked me to invite you, if you’re wondering.”

You cast him a surprised stare while you tidy up your own workspace, sparing a quiet laugh once you get ahold of yourself. “You guys aren’t bullying the new employees into footing the bill, are you?”

“Hey, if this is how they want to get in their seniors’ good graces, who am I to say no?” He shrugs, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “So, you coming or not?”

Now that you think about it, you don’t particularly have anything else to get done for this week. All the necessary preparations for the first leg of the event are in place, and your team members assured that they’ll give you a ring once something comes up. 

“Sure thing,” you tell Zhang with a smile. “There better be finger food.”

Company drinking parties aren’t as bad as you thought. They’re not mixers in disguise, like all the manga you’ve illegally downloaded off Inazuman websites suggested. You got to know your close colleagues, and some other people in departments that rarely come into contact with yours. The alcohol isn’t half bad either, especially when the lively newcomer Zhang told you about is going to make good on his promise. You’re not so stuck-up that you’ll deny free food and drinks once they’re offered.

To your dismay, you still aren’t used to drinking with a lot of people as company. Normally, you just grab a few packs of beer from the supermarket before consuming them in your lonesome at home. You realize a little too late that if you’re drinking out, you really shouldn’t be chugging glass after glass as if you’re the only person enjoying the liquor out here. 

After a few more pints, some of your co-workers have started to tap out – making you pout at them, red-faced and more pissy than usual. “What? You guys are going? And here I thought these drinking parties lasted until morning.”

Zhang shakes his head at your side, clinking his glass with yours before downing his drink. “Right? These guys have been hanging out with us for months, but they act like they can’t handle drinking on a work night.”

“Hmph, we all know why you’re insistent on staying behind tonight, Zhang,” one of the girls from accounting – Chen? Was that her name? – says, rolling her eyes as she hoists her handbag over her shoulder. “Just…take care of her, alright? Zhongli’s going to kick your ass if something happens.”

You’re still feeling a bit woozy from the beer, so you can only crane your head in confusion. What did she mean by take care of you? You can take care of yourself, thank you very –

“I will, I will,” Zhang chuckles, and suddenly, you feel a heavy arm drape itself across your shoulders – making you wrinkle your nose. “I never expected her to drink so much, but it’s a good thing that I’m here.” 

“I doubt that,” Chen scoffs. “Oh, well. See you guys tomorrow!”

Once the others make their leave, that’s when you start mumbling under your breath “Ugh. The first time I actually come along to these kinds of things and the people who invited me don’t even last until the end,” you complain, pressing your face against the wooden table in front of you. “Where’s the kid that said he was going to pay for everything? It’s just the two of us left…”

Zhang rubs your back in a way that isn’t really soothing the way your skin burns from the alcohol, but you’re a bit too intoxicated to tell him off. “Aww, don’t worry. Some of my pals helped the poor guy home, but he asked the bar to put everything on his tab before he passed out. So if you still want to have a go, I’m down.” 

You can feel something buzzing in your bag, but it’s probably just a text notification from your phone carrier. You’ve been receiving a lot of those lately. Maybe you should pay your bill soon. But your thoughts about phone bills are rudely interrupted by the feel of Zhang snaking an arm around your waist – pulling you upright as he steadies your shoulder with his free hand.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep here,” he says. “You’re going to feel like shit once you wake up from a drunk nap, you know.”

“Don’t care…” you mumble, eyelids drooping as you lose your grip on the handle of your glass. “‘M so sleepy. Can you get me a cab back home, Zhang…? Don’t think I can commute anymore.”

Zhang doesn’t respond right away, and you nearly doze off in that short bout of silence. But eventually, your desk neighbor helps you back to your feet and walks you out of the bar – exchanging farewells with the bartender on your way out.

The late evening breeze feels chilly against your legs, even through your stockings – yet that isn’t quite enough to make you snap out of your drowsiness. You end up leaning against Zhang for support as you wait for him to call a cab, all the while you screw your eyes shut – trying to stop your head from spinning. 

“You know… There’s a hotel nearby that we can just crash in for the night.”

You’re too far between consciousness and slumber to fully process what he just said. All you can do is press the side of your face against his shoulder as you attempt not to fall asleep on the spot. But, apparently, Zhang takes your lack of a response for confirmation – wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he leads you to the direction of the hotel. You don’t really think of it much, since the desire to sleep is the only thing weighing on your mind right now. You’re just glad someone’s patient enough to guide you as you stumble around the sidewalk. 

Suddenly, though, Zhang’s strides come to a halt. 

Your mind vaguely registers the sound of him speaking to someone else. Huh. You could’ve sworn the others have already left. But their conversation lasts a bit longer than you anticipated, and you force yourself to listen in. 

“...Thank you for watching out for her all this time. I’ll take it from here.”

This voice…? Is that –

“U-Uh, sure, sir,” you can hear Zhang sputter beside you before you feel him shift your weight onto something – no, someone else. “I don’t really know where she lives so –”

You don’t really hear the rest of what Zhang has to say because you’re distracted by the person who just joined the fray. His clothes feel thick underneath your touch, like tailored fabric made from the most exquisite material, and they carry a familiar scent that reminds you of incense – one with a unique spice, just a touch archaic. You might’ve been too drunk to tell at the time, but if you had more strength than you did, you would’ve pushed Zhang away because his touch alone already didn’t feel right. With this person, though? You’d gladly lay in his arms for days. 

The last memory you have that night is the sensation of being gently ushered into the passenger seat of an unfamiliar car. A soothing voice speaks to you constantly, as if trying to keep you awake. But the gentle lull of his words do little to aid that particular cause, and when he slides into the driver’s seat next to you, you’re already out like a light.

“Is anything the matter?”

You blink in non-plus, feeling like you’ve just woken up from a dream despite the fact that you’re sitting in a vast field of flowers. Wait a moment. 

Glancing at your side, you see the Zhongli’s humanoid counterpart – those draconian eyes of his scanning your face to see if something was wrong. In his hands is a bundle of pale blue flowers, clutched tightly between his clawed fingers, and you feel your shoulders sag. The idea that you unknowingly stepped into his dreams again as Guizhong incites a rush of guilt that you have all the reason to feel right now.

You don’t even remember planning on feeding tonight. Sure, it’s been a while since the first time you collected energy from your boss, but you’re not particularly in need of a refill right now. How did you even end up here in the first place?

Thankfully, Guizhong does all the talking while you accustom yourself to your unplanned invasion. “I just never thought you’d humor my request. You were never that fond of the glaze lilies.”

“This is where I met you all those years ago,” he reminds you. “Why would I ever loathe the thing that brought us together, my love?”

Silence envelops the two of you for a sliver of a moment, and you catch the scent of the ephemeral flowers even in the filtered reality of Zhongli’s dream. Guizhong lets out a peal of gentle laughter as she picks one of the lilies that grew in abundance – examining the unassuming bloom rather fondly.

“These flowers take the memories of the land and transform them into an unforgettable fragrance,” she murmurs. “When the war is over, do you think they’ll still carry the scent of our union, Rex?”

…War? There’s a war?

But in the end, you never get to hear Zhongli’s answer nor the proper explanation behind what Guizhong just said. When you open your eyes, it’s to an unfamiliar room that makes you bolt upright – eyes frantically darting around the vicinity while you try to recall what happened before you fell asleep.

Drinking party. Zhang being all touchy feely. Being taken care of by someone else.

You try not to think about the awful taste that lingers in your mouth as you try to figure out whose house you’re currently crashing. This obviously isn’t yours because you can’t afford the imported rug that’s tucked underneath the queen-sized bed. However, when your gaze lands on the dark-wood nightstand, you see a couple of glaze lilies sitting in an expensive-looking vase.

The next thing your barely sober mind takes note of is the presence of another person on the bed right next to you. Anticipation coils in your gut as you turn around slowly, and when you see Zhongli sleeping soundly a respectable distance away, you can’t help the way your heart throbs at the sight. He looks a bit more like the man in his dreams like this – dark hair pooled messily across his pillows. And you also notice that he’s still in the dress shirt he often wears to work, further suggesting that he might’ve fallen asleep while watching over you. The idea is enough to make your face flush with shame.

You spot your bag placed on top of a table at the other side of the room, so you quietly slip out of his bed before retrieving your phone inside. How did Zhongli even know where you were? Was he aware that you were out drinking with your colleagues? A single glance at your lock screen is all the answer you need because there, you bear witness to several unanswered calls and text messages from your boss himself. 

From where you stood, you cast the man in question a longing stare. He was kind enough to take care of you when you obviously couldn’t do that for yourself – even going as far as to let you sleep on the same bed as him. Zhongli is quite the busy man. Busy enough that he always turns down any and all invitations for drinks, yet he showed up outside the bar earlier tonight and just…took you back home with him? You don’t see any signs that he might’ve tried to take advantage of your inebriated state either – not that you believed that Zhongli is capable of such a thing. He was a proper gentleman through and through.

But…good intentions aside, you’re still at a loss for answers when you recall the dream you shared with him just now. This is the first time you found yourself inside a dreamscape without meaning to, and you’re unsure of whether or not this is a cause for alarm. What’s more is that his dreams always seem to take place in a world that’s wholly unfamiliar to you – a place where you take the form of his past lover without any real reason behind it.

Not wanting to overstay your welcome, you quickly type in a text message to Zhongli – thanking him for everything he’s done, along with an apology that you’ll probably repeat once you see him again in the office. Although you’re more conscious of his aberrant dreams than you imposing on his kindness. 

You tell yourself to just leave whatever you saw, whatever you heard there in his mind. There’s no reason for you to keep nosing in. You already got your fill, right? And you never feed on the same person twice – never.  

You just hope you can live by that personal rule of yours for as long as you can.

News flash: you cave to your pesky, curious tendencies not two days since the incident.

Zhongli makes it terribly easy for you, too. Every night, by eleven P.M., your boss is already sound asleep – providing you with ample time to travel in-between dreams before reaching the one that perpetually occurs inside his head. 

The more you make these timely visits, the more you learn about the life that Zhongli – no, Rex Lapis – lives in this world. He’s someone that mortals call the God of Contracts. Someone who shows no mercy to anyone who dares break any sort of agreement that they willingly set in stone. He and Guizhong live in an era where the gods fight for the title of archon – a concept that you’re still having some trouble wrapping your head around. But in the most fundamental sense, Rex is someone equally respected and feared, and you can’t blame others for feeling that way.

When he speaks to people that aren’t Guizhong, he dons a stone-cold visage that still makes your blood run cold despite how many times you’ve seen it. It wasn’t a bluff when he said he didn’t care for the humans he and his lover watched over. All he wanted was to give Guizhong a place to live comfortably – and if that meant felling other gods just to attain that goal, he’ll gladly bloody his hands for it. 

But Guizhong, the God of Dust, was never that fond of Rex’s violent ways of doing things. 

She reminds him that humans are just as small and fragile as dust. They do not know when they’re bound to lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they live in fear. Because they live in fear, they try so hard to be much more than the small, fragile creatures that the gods have reduced them to. Guizhong is a god who’s more human than divine, and you suppose that’s something that Rex is yet to fully understand.

These are only some of the things you learned during your visits, and you can’t help but tune into every scenario that unfolds. Like a television series you can’t quite get enough of. However, you’re careful not to let the curious tale of Zhongli’s dreams hinder you in your waking life. 

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem to remember any of the things that take place in his dreams. Whenever you run into him at work, Zhongli simply greets you with that trademark smile of his before discussing business as usual. No telltale signs of any sort of disturbance rooted from his slumber. 

At the office, you notice that you’ve become closer beyond measure as well – both as colleagues and, you daresay, friends. Along with the team you’re heading for the project, your boss is one of your constant support systems during such a hectic time in your career. 

Not only does he serve as something similar to your advisor, but he also keeps you company whenever you need to unwind.

During one of your late dinners, you share a glass of wine in his company as he shares some embarrassing work stories over the years. Zhongli is about three years your senior, so it makes sense for him to have more tales to tell. Nonetheless, you enjoy every minute of it, and in the back of your mind, you wonder when he’ll take you out like this again.

But when Zhongli drives you back to your apartment that night, he abruptly grabs hold of your wrist as you open the door to the passenger seat. You shoot him a startled look, but your boss’ alluring gaze doesn’t waver. You want to ask him what’s the matter, but before you can even get a single word out, he’s already pulling you close enough for a kiss.

You can’t process what was happening fast enough – simply sitting there in shock as you feel your superior’s mouth move against yours. When Zhongli doesn’t get so much as a reaction from you though, he pulls away with a troubled look on his face. 

“I apologize. Really, I do,” Zhongli says. “Perhaps I’ve had too much –”

This time, your senses finally kickstart into motion as you throw your arms around his neck before pulling him in again. You return his kiss in earnest, even going as far as licking the swell of his bottom lip to show you that you’re more eager for his affections than he initially assumed. And when you feel his strong arms circle around your waist in the same, possessive way he held you in the first dream, you all but moan into his mouth.

You’re not sure how things led up to this point, exactly. It’s true that you and him have grown more familiar with each other since the project’s launch, but you never would’ve imagined doing this with Zhongli in real life. You thought you were content with having sampled the more sensual side of him in your dreams, but as it turns out, Hu Tao was right.

Nothing beats the real thing.

“What does this mean?” you whisper in-between gasps, laughing a bit as Zhongli chases after your lips. He lets out a disgruntled noise when you pull away, and you feel the urgency in his touch when his hand rests against your cheek.

“It means I fancy you very much,” he tells you bluntly. “Though I admit, this might be too sudden. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or if you don’t wish to do these kinds of things with me. I just hope my admission doesn’t change our dynamic at work.”

…Is he being for real? Did Zhongli just assume that you didn’t feel the same way? 

“Everything happens all in due time,” you tell him with a smile, brushing away some of his bangs as you take the time to admire the man before you. “And who said I wasn’t at all interested, sir?”

Zhongli sighs, dipping his head closer to press a fleeting kiss on your forehead. The sensation sets your heart alight with glee, and you can’t help but lean closer to his touch.

“When it’s just the two of us, I’d prefer it if you called me by my first name,” he tells you as he presses another kiss to your cheek. “Would that be alright?”

“Of course,” you breathe – placing your hand over the one he’s using to cup your face. “I’d love that.”

At that moment, you don’t think about how it’s been tough for you to find yourself a boyfriend over the last few years. How starting a relationship like this with Zhongli is going to give you more problems than you bargained for. All that matters is the comforting warmth of his touch as the two of you bask in each other’s company in the privacy of his car. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

Times where you attempt to contact people like yourself are few and far in between. You want little to do in the lifestyles of other succubi and incubi, but it’s a different case with Xingqiu.

You met him by chance in the most awkward way possible. One time, you decided that a college boy who once interned at Wangsheng was going to be your target of the month. But on the night you tried to harvest energy from him, someone else was already occupying the dream – doing the things you were supposed to do before you could even arrive.

Long story short, you ended up doing a little snooping around with your targets first before going in for the kill. You wouldn’t want to run into Xingqiu in the middle of a feeding again, after all.

“It’s been a while,” he comments as you slide into the seat across from him. Xingqiu closes the book he was reading and props an elbow on the table, resting his head against the curve of his palm. “I’m guessing this is really important if you came to me for help.”

“It is,” you sigh.

Your companion nods along and smiles. “Okay, I’ll hear you out. Make sure to order something first because I can tell this one’s going to take us a while.”

Wanmin Restaurant, the place he chose for your quick meeting, serves the best Black-Back Perch Stew you’ve ever tasted in your life. This makes it a whole lot easier to settle down and explain your situation to Xingqiu to the most minute details. He quietly eats his own food as you tell him about the dreams you experience inside Zhongli’s head. How it always takes place in the same setting. How the sequence of events seem to have a linear pattern to them – which is quite rare to encounter in a human’s dreams. You’ve never once felt any sense of order whenever you hopped into the minds of your targets, but it’s as if you’re witnessing something straight out of a film reel when it comes to your boss-turned-lover.

You suspect that Xingqiu has been an incubus long before you’ve even been born. In spite of his appearance, you can tell he holds more wisdom about your kind than one would expect. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he quietly hums at the end of your story – an answer already prepared in advance.

“Memories,” he says simply. “You’re not just witnessing that man’s dreams – you’re watching his memories.” 

You frown. “But…that place is something that’s straight out of a fantasy novel. Gods and monsters? A world plunged into a war? How could Zhongli have memories of that?”

Xingqiu spares you a soft laugh. “How do creatures like us still exist in a world catered for humans and humans alone? There are many things that can’t be explained by pure logic. But I have a hunch that the owner of the memories you see is both your boyfriend and isn’t at the same time.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Do you believe in past lives?” he asks. “Reincarnation, exactly. Do you believe that all of us have already lived once before?”

“Are you saying that the stuff I’m seeing in his dreams are memories of a past life?” you clarify, face twisting with confusion. “Xingqiu, isn’t that a bit…”

“Crazy? It is,” he chuckles. “But like I said, this world leaves a lot of things unexplained. Some details are meant to sound crazy so you wouldn’t think they’re actually possible.”

You toy with what’s left of your dish, the appetite you’ve built up suddenly dissipating at the idea that Xingqiu just proposed to you. So even in a past life, Zhongli adored Guizhong to the point that he’d tear both heaven and earth asunder all in her name. You wonder if the Zhongli in this world, the one you’re currently dating, loved Guizhong to the same degree as well. He probably did, and you probably wouldn’t compare to someone like her.

“Is it possible for past lives to have some…parallels to the ones we live now?” Your voice is quiet, almost as if you fear for the answer.

The incubus considers the question for a moment. “Well, yes. The saying ‘history repeats itself’ isn’t exactly true because history doesn’t repeat itself – sometimes, it just rhymes. Things that occurred in the past can occur again in the present, but they won’t always entail the same meaning.” 

You receive his words with a solemn nod, feeling your chest twist uncomfortably. Somehow, you don’t really like the sound of that.

“Thank you,” you tell Xingqiu when the two of you are done splitting the bill. “You seriously shed some light on a lot of things that were confusing me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he insists, tucking his book underneath his shoulder. For a moment, you think that this is where you part ways, but Xingqiu suddenly pauses – eyes narrowing as he leans closer to you. “When was the last time you fed?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden inquiry, but you manage an answer all the same. “Um, a while.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? You have a boyfriend that’s more than willing to help you, right?” He posits the question like he expected the answer to be yes, but when you shyly avert your gaze, Xingqiu’s smile falls almost immediately. “Oh, no. He doesn’t know what you are, does he?”

“It’s kind of hard to just go off on a tangent and say, ‘hey I’m actually a demon that receives my life force from dream sex’,” you point out, but know he’s right either way. “I…I do plan on telling him. Just not anytime soon. We’re kind of busy with a huge project at work, and I can’t really drop something like that out of nowhere.”

Xingqiu sighs, pinching his nose between his fingers. “But you’ve been spending a lot of time in his dreams anyways. Am I right? You seem to know an awful lot about his past life now that I think about it.”

…Of course Xingqiu’s going to be the one who catches you red-handed.

It’s really no secret that you still frequent Zhongli’s dreams, not to feed but to learn more about the life Rex lived alongside Guizhong. Since you started going out with your boss, the details became more descriptive with each visit. It’s as if you’re starting to assimilate yourself better in Guizhong’s body, and you could glean more insight about that strange, strange world with more certainty. Last night, she and Rex talked about how they plan on transferring the Guili Assembly to the harbor city, where they’ll be far from the evil gods that wish to kill them all.

“Well, whatever your circumstances are, you know what happens when you don’t feed,” Xingqiu reminds you almost grimly, not leaving any trace of his once cheerful façade. “Don’t downplay the effects of hunger. We’re already an endangered species as is.”

As you head home that day, you end up thinking about his warning more than you should. Everything Xingqiu said is in the right – you knew as much. You’ve had to suffer through the aftereffects only recently yourself, but...

You can take it. Just a bit more.

The next day, Zhongli comes over to your apartment to prepare dinner for you. He’s been excited all week to serve you his signature bamboo shoot soup, but Xingqiu’s words haunt you for the entirety of the day. You try your best not to make your distress obvious to your boyfriend, but you’re gravely mistaken if you thought Zhongli wasn’t going to catch on.

“Is anything on your mind?” he asks softly, pressing his lips to your neck. You’re seated comfortably in his lap as the two of you lounge on the sofa. But even if this has become one of your favorite places to relax with him, you just can’t bring yourself to do so now.

“Just…work,” you sigh as you rest your head across his chest. 

The beat of his heart is steady like usual, reminding you that Zhongli is real and breathing right beside you. That he’s not just a product of your dreams, like your mind always leads you to believe.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.” You can almost hear him pout. “Was dinner not to your liking, perhaps?”

“No, it’s not that,” you insist. “I’m just…really tired is all.”

That’s not exactly a lie. You’re starting to feel the effects of your own self-deprivation with each passing day. And even if you already learned your lesson last time, your conscience can’t take the idea of feeding on another person when you have a boyfriend. To further add to your list of problems, even if you wanted to harness energy from Zhongli, the setting of his dreams is too convoluted for you to pick up the right momentum. 

Rex Lapis was working hard to defend the land that he and Guizhong dedicated their lives to protect. Even if you appeared as the woman he loved more than anything else in his dreams, you doubt you’ll be able to seduce him during such a crucial period in the war. 

So now, you’re stuck in a stalemate between your own stubbornness and physiological needs. You’re not even going to be surprised anymore if your body just suddenly gives out on you one of these days.

“Can I propose something that could take your mind off such trifling affairs?”

The room falls silent once he utters the words, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. Was he suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? 

As far as intimacy goes, you haven’t really gone all the way with Zhongli. Apart from the occasional makeout sessions in the break room, in his office, and sometimes even his car, you never really sought for anything more than that. You’re well aware that Guizhong’s death is still fresh in his heart, and if he ever considered the possibility of sex, you’d want him to come to you in his own time. 

This is quite the opportune moment for it, too. You’re barely keeping up appearances now that your stockpile of sexual energy started to dwindle. But now that Zhongli was coming onto you, you suppose it won’t hurt to kill two birds with one stone. 

There’s something different in the air as he carries you to your bedroom – lips never straying too far from yours. Zhongli’s eyes are heavily lidded with want, a look you have a tough time imagining on him given the man’s saintlike patience. But as he carefully peels off your clothes, you can’t help but think how different he is from Rex. Where the God of Contracts is ferocious and impatient, Zhongli seems like he’s going to take all the time in the world to drown you in his love. 

“That tickles,” you mewl as his fingers trail across your inner thigh and you feel him smirk against the skin of your throat. 

“I know,” he says. “I quite enjoy seeing you squirm underneath my touch.”

“You’re mean…”

You can barely contain the gasp that resounds from your lips when you feel him tracing your slick entrance with the prod of his fingers. Zhongli murmurs the sweetest things against your lips, yet the things he’s doing between your thighs are anything but innocent. He keeps your knees apart, spreading you open for only him to see, and as he gazes at you from above, you clumsily tug off the tie that’s holding his beautiful hair in place.

Dark brown tresses cascade across the sides of his head. You stare up at the gorgeous man above you with a longing sigh.

When his long, thick digits sink into you, you silence your moans in the curve of his shoulder – teeth biting down at his flesh as Zhongli loosens you up. You feel his thumb occasionally catching on your clit, as if meaning to tease a momentary sensation of pleasure before denying you a few moments later. He’s cruel like that. Nonetheless, he watches you with quiet fascination as you practically grind yourself against his hand – feeling just how wet his fingers have gotten in the short time you were inside the room. The squelch of your cunt is a sound you would’ve been too embarrassed to hear, had you been with someone else. But with Zhongli, everything just seems so right.

“That’s it,” he goads you huskily, teeth grazing the side of your jaw. “Lose yourself for me, darling. Think of no one else but me.”

Darling? That’s new. But the new pet name only serves to push you over the edge – making your walls clench around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Zhongli claims your lips in another heated kiss, relentlessly plunging his digits into you despite the overstimulation. You beg him to stop, but the only sound that comes from your mouth is a broken moan of his name.

You’re nothing but a boneless pile on the bed when you finally come down from your high, breathing heavily as you attempt to reorient yourself to your surroundings. The sensation of Zhongli shifting above you registers a bit late in your mind, but your frayed nerves jolt back to life when you feel him rubbing the head of his cock across your glistening seam. 

“Too much,” you whimper. “Zhongli, i-it’s too much…”

He leans down to press a loving kiss on your mouth, one of his hands rubbing your hip soothingly. “Shhh, I know you can take me. Just like you always have.” 

…Wait, what?

You can’t even offer what he said another thought because Zhongli makes good on his words and slowly slips his length into you without much warning. A sob nearly tears its way out of your throat with how his thick cock stretches you to the brim, but your lover kisses away the tears before they even come. 

“You mean so much to me,” he murmurs, twining his hands with yours. “More than you could ever know.” 

That was a given. Having Zhongli as a boyfriend made you feel like you were important; you were loved. Though you haven’t been dating for all that long, he never once gave you a reason to doubt the sincerity of his feelings. So despite all the odd things you unknowingly witnessed in his dreams, you like to believe that he meant every word. 

His hips slap against yours unabated, pumping his length hard and fast enough to make you croon his name over and over. And even if he managed to exhibit some degree of patience a while ago, it takes little time for Zhongli to move past his courtesy and bite down on the skin of your throat hard enough to bruise. 

“Mine,” he growls. “I’ll never let you go, my love.”

You would’ve teased him for such a cheesy choice of words if you were under different circumstances. But the moment the new endearment falls from Zhongli’s lips, you go completely still underneath him. 

“Stop. Zhongli, please stop.”

To his credit, he listens just as told – gazing at you with a puzzled look as he takes his length out. Zhongli is concerned for a moment, because you’re staring at him as if he’s killed a man right in front of you. When he reaches out a hand to touch your face, intent on asking what was wrong, you instinctively slap it away.

“I…” Your voice fails you. After all, how on earth can you just tell him that you wanted to stop because that was the very same thing that Rex calls Guizhong in his dreams. You can’t help but think that Zhongli used to call the Guizhong of this world the same thing, too.

Sometimes, real life could coincide with what happens in the dreamscape. Inside his mind, Rex Lapis sees Guizhong, not you. And you’re more than inclined to believe that it’s the same case here with Zhongli.

You’re not the one he sees – it’s the dead woman that he’s never stopped loving these past six years.

You know you’re being obtuse. Your boss isn’t the kind of person who lets his past grievances interfere with his present relationships. But the anxiety you’ve accumulated since your meeting with Xingqiu had boiled over with the worst timing possible. 

Instead of talking it out, you roll over to your side of the bed – pulling the covers tight enough around your body so that he sees no inch of it. You know that what you’re doing is probably hurting Zhongli more than you think, but you shut out any hint of remorse that threatens to make you waver.

It doesn’t take long for him to settle on the spot right next to you. Zhongli doesn’t ask why you suddenly pushed him away, nor do you make an effort to explain. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His words ring sincerely enough, but it sounds like he doesn’t even know what he’s apologizing for. You don’t fault him for it. You’re still unsure why you even let yourself be consumed by your own doubts. Didn’t you just say you believed in Zhongli when he told you how much you mean to him?

You suppose this is where you fall short compared to Guizhong. The God of Dust put her faith in Rex Lapis despite his violent tendencies. She believes in him both as his follower and lover in equal measure. You, though? You’re already lucky enough to be dealing with a mellowed down version of the man in your dreams, but you still decide to take it for granted. Because…what? You’re insecure? You’re jealous of a woman who’s been dead for six years?

In the end, you decide that you’re too tired to think about it at the moment. Since you interrupted your own feeding session, your body wasn’t able to gain even an ounce of energy. You’re better off preserving what little you had left if you knew what was good for you.

(If Zhongli hears you choke on your own sobs later in the night, he says nothing of it in the morning.) 

“Can you make a contract with me?”

Rex Lapis is cleaning the blood off his polearm when Guizhong’s voice cuts through the silence of the night. He stares at her hard, yet his gaze still carries a hint of fondness he’s reserved for her and her alone.

She purses her lips before continuing, “If I were to be infected by the miasma that’s tainting the guardian yakshas in the front lines, I want you to take my life.”

“No.” His answer is quick and precise, as if he’s already mulled it over several times before she even brought the matter to light. “If that happens, I’ll turn this world upside down just to find a cure that can save you.”

“Yet you can’t even do that for the children who devoted their lives to you?” 

He stills, feeling the jab of his lover’s accusation hit harder than he expected. It’s not that he doesn’t care for the adepti – he simply knows that it’s in their nature to be more tenacious than the rest of their soldiers. Rex Lapis is certain that they can resist the effects of the miasma on their own merit. Guizhong, however, is just as delicate as the dust she holds dominion over. He’d rather watch the world burn first than let her die either by his hand or the corruption induced by that pesky miasma.

But still, he respects all his lover’s thoughts and wishes. She isn’t the brains of their operation for nothing. Without her, he wouldn’t have made it half as far in this war as he did now.

“Very well,” Rex Lapis agrees, albeit reluctantly. “I will honor this contract until the day I die.”

Guizhong’s eyes soften at his decision, and when she smiles, he feels his stone cold heart thawing at the radiance that only she can ever exude.

“I know you will.” 

“You’re doing it again, huh?”

Hu Tao ambles by your cubicle with that knowing tone of hers, arms crossed in a way that suggests you’re about to receive another thorough scolding. But you’re really not in the mood to be told off by someone who hasn’t lived in your shoes before, so you opt to ignore her. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she huffs, fingers pinching your face like she often does but you keep your eyes straight on the screen of your laptop. “Aren’t you and the consultant seeing each other lately? Is he not good in bed or something?”

Thankfully, the director has the decency to lower her voice when she speaks, making you heave another sigh before glancing at her warily. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Hmm… Let me guess. You’re doing something you’re not supposed to, aren’t you?”

Hu Tao’s perceptiveness is absolutely beyond you. You’ve always known that she’s quicker on the uptake than most people you’ve met in life, but it’s almost scary how she’s seemingly aware of your actions. You’re the succubus and she’s the human, but sometimes you feel like Hu Tao has more power over you than you initially assumed.

You try not to think about the more recent additions to your vignettes of Zhongli’s past memories. You can tell that the stakes of the war were growing higher and higher each time you visited his dreams. Could that be the influence of the current events in his life?

Ever since the night you pushed him away, you and Zhongli haven’t been on speaking terms. Sure, the two of you still conversed about details that need fine-tuning for your project, but beyond that, it’s complete radio silence. His good morning and good night texts have stopped, and he’s never once dropped by your apartment in that time frame; nor has he invited you over to his own. His distant behavior tears you up more than you realize, but you tell yourself that he has all the right to avoid you if he’s upset about what you did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell Hu Tao. “Director, forgive me for being blunt, but I’d like to focus on this report now.”

Your superior sighs. You assume she’s going to concede early for a change, but the moment you think Hu Tao is already on her way, you feel her lean closer to your ear, whispering something that sends a chill down your spine.

“Don’t dive too deep into matters that don’t concern you. Don’t try to change things that have already been set in stone,” she says calmly, her fingers digging slightly into your shoulders. “If you lose sight of what’s really important, you might lose yourself in the process, too.”

When she lets go of you, Hu Tao continues humming that same, lively song she always sings – leaving you to deal with the guilt that grips your heart like a vice.

About two weeks since Zhongli started giving you the silent treatment, you come to a sound conclusion.

He’s still thinking about Guizhong. Well, she was his first love – meaning, your boss isn’t exactly going to stop thinking of her anytime soon. But you thought about your conversation with Xingqiu several times over the last few days. You hypothesized that the reason why Zhongli was continuously dreaming about his memories of a past long gone is because his grief cuts even deeper than he let on. 

Though you have no means of making sure, you’re almost too certain that the reason Zhongli still thinks of her even if you’re right in front of him is because her memory is too painful to let go. He clings to it subconsciously, and that desperation manifests itself in his dreams – back to a lifetime where Guizhong still lives.

The things that happened in the past are bound to happen in the present; that’s what Xingqiu told you the last time. So if the Guizhong in this world has already passed on, it’s safe to assume that the one in his dreams is bound to face the same fate as well. 

But…you have the power to change that.

Even if it’s nothing but a memory now, what if you could alter the outcome? If Zhongli is left with memories of Guizhong that aren’t tained with sorrow, maybe he can finally move past it.

Maybe he can finally see you instead of her.

It’s a fool’s line of reasoning – you know that. This was going to be one of the most dangerous things you tried in anyone’s dreamscape. But you’re so catastrophically in love with Zhongli, that you’d give up anything just to ease his pain. 

You’re well aware that your body is deteriorating at an exponential pace. Not only are you expending a lot of energy to tinker with Zhongli’s memories, but you don’t even bother with feeding anymore. You tell yourself that you can do that later, once you manage to save Guizhong from her timely demise. 

Everything you can think of to keep her from dying, you made sure happened in the dream. You don’t let her walk out to the front lines to give orders like she usually does. You make sure to avoid all the guardian yakshas, who are already tainted with the corruption that craftier gods weaponized against Rex Lapis’ forces. And most of all, you don’t let her leave his sight longer than she needs to – because if there’s anyone you can rely on to keep Guizhong alive, it’s Zhongli himself.

Of course, you’re still doing splendidly in keeping your work life separate from everything else. Your project has officially come to a close, raking in more revenue for Wangsheng than anyone expected. 

Today, you’re scheduled to give a speech addressing everyone’s efforts in the company’s conference room – something that you’re a bit reluctant to do because you know Zhongli is going to be there, too. The idea of him looking at you from the crowd with none of the adoration he used to give so freely is enough to make your stomach turn.

But still, you compose yourself. You’re no stranger to adversity, so seeing your boyfriend (can you even still call him that?) in a crowded room is the least of your problems. 

At least, that’s what you thought.

When Director Hu Tao calls you up to the platform, you're raring to go – practicing with deep breaths as you repeat the gist of your speech inside your head. You made sure to cake your face with a heavier layer of makeup this time around because the last thing you need is for her to pull you to the side and scold you for still refusing to feed. 

But the moment you get up from your seat, the world suddenly tilts to the side – your vision going black within seconds.

The last thing you remember is being whisked into a pair of strong arms. You want to curl your fingers in the fabric of his coat, to apologize a million times over, but the familiar scent of his clothes is enough to put you straight to sleep. 

“Goodness, miss. You had us terrified back there.”

Ganyu is sitting by your bed in the infirmary when you regain consciousness, wiping the tears off her face with a dainty handkerchief. You mumble a half-hearted apology, but immediately seize up when you see Zhongli leaning against the wall in front of you. 

“The nurse told us she suspected that you might have an eating disorder,” the secretary continues, rubbing your hand comfortingly. “It did seem like you were pushing yourself harder than usual during the last few weeks. You should really take care of yourself more.”

An eating disorder…? Well, if depriving yourself of your required sustenance can be translated into a human affliction, you suppose that was the most obvious counterpart. Still, you’re still feeling a bit too groggy for conversation, so instead of addressing Ganyu’s plight, you sink further into the mattress.

You can feel his gaze on your pitiful form – those eyes of endless gold. But you’re too much of a coward to face him when you’ve been reduced into such a state.

A little while later, you hear the door to the infirmary swing open. Is it odd that you can tell that the newcomer is Hu Tao based on the sound of her footsteps alone?

“Leave us,” she says sternly – addressing both Ganyu and Zhongli at the same time. “There’s something I need to discuss with her.”

You half-expect Zhongli to complain, or at least contest the director’s orders. But your heart sinks when he resigns himself to what he’s told, quietly ushering himself and his secretary out of the room.

Hu Tao waits for about two more minutes before speaking again.

“You better feed now or you’re going to die for real.”

“...But –”

“I can’t have you dying on my watch just because you’re being stubborn about it,” Hu Tao nearly snaps – eyes alight with rage. “Feed now. I don’t care who it is, just do it. I won’t let you out of this place until you’ve gotten better.”

To say that you’re terrified is putting it lightly. You’ve never seen Hu Tao get angry before, but the absolute urgency in her gaze – practically begging you to please just save yourself – makes you consider her request. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, only surrendering because you can’t save Guizhong if you’re dead. “See you in a bit.”

‘A bit’ is a lie that you didn’t really mean to tell. When you entered the crossroads of the dreamscape, you didn’t bother picking targets anymore. You slipped into the dream of a man who’s probably in his thirties, intent on just getting him off, sucking out some energy for yourself before making your leave. 

But no matter how many times you attempt to drive him to an orgasm, you don’t feel yourself getting any better. The energy that always emanates out of a man post-coitus is nowhere to be found. 

You switch targets faster than you can even blink. This time, it’s a boy that’s probably fresh out of high school, and you feel a bit horrible for having to trespass like this. But instead of fretting about common decency in a goddamn dream , you make him come about two consecutive times before realizing that –

This isn’t working, you mutter to yourself. Why the hell isn’t it working?

You’ve always had a hard time harnessing energy from strangers, yes. However, those instances granted you at least a tiny ounce of energy that could stem the hunger for a while. Now, you’re getting absolutely nothing.

It seems that Hu Tao is already privy to your dilemma when you wake up in your own body. 

“I’m going to put him to sleep,” she decides with a vexed sigh. “Make sure you get enough energy to last you for an entire year, got that? No meddling with anything else.”

“W-Wait,” you croak out, and damn, you feel even weaker than before. “What do you mean you’re going to put him to sleep? Are you talking about Zhongli?”

“Who else could I be talking about, little devil?” The director rolls her eyes. “Now, I’m going to ask you to pretend I’m not about to do something illegal and just rest. The moment you fall asleep, get into Zhongli’s head and feed. Okay?”

You don’t even get a chance to respond to Hu Tao’s words because you’re already nodding. Your bones feel like lead, limbs feel like they’ll fall off any minute. If you stay conscious any longer, your eyes might just dry out. 

It doesn’t take five minutes for you to fall asleep again. And as you drift aimlessly in the depths of your subconscious, a part of you that’s still coherent anticipates that it might take a while before you find Zhongli’s dreamscape. You’re not sure how long ‘putting him to sleep’ is going to be, but surprisingly, your existence is abruptly transported to the familiar marshlands of Dihua. 

You chalk it up to how often you’ve been hopping into Zhongli’s dreams, but you immediately notice that something isn’t right. The skies have turned into an ashen gray color – columns of smoke rising in several locations at once. When you gaze around, all you see are the fallen bodies of both soldiers and monsters alike. 

Rex. You need to find Rex Lapis.

That’s your very first instinct once your consciousness fully pulls through, careful to step over the decaying corpses as you mutter a silent prayer for each one. But just when you thought you’re going to end up tripping on one of them, you watch in equal parts horror and confusion when you witness your leg pass through the carcass of a dead monster.

All it takes is a single glance down for you to know that you’re no longer inside Guizhong’s body. Instead, you drift around as an apparition of sorts – arms, legs, and torso appearing less saturated than usual. It’s like you’ve become a transparent cut-out, and you give yourself a minute to think about what the hell was going on. This has never happened in your previous feedings. You’ve always been able to maintain your form, despite the numerous instances you’ve hopped in between dreamscapes. 

In the distance, however, you find the answer to all of your questions.

You spot them amidst the debris left behind by the battle. Rex Lapis kneels at the side of the most beautiful woman you’ve seen in your life – cradling her frail body in his arms as golden tears flowed forth from his eyes. It’s the first time he’s surrendered the unmovable visage you’ve gotten so used to seeing in this dream. Gone is the unfeeling, uncaring God of Contracts who felled his own enemies like it was as easy as breathing. In his place is a man who only wanted to live with the person he adored the most.

Guizhong’s pale skin is overrun by dark lacerations that look like black veins rooted into the surface. Her own eyes glisten with tears as she reaches up to cradle Zhongli’s face. She says something that you don’t hear over the wind howling in your ears, but you don’t let yourself remain stagnant for a second longer. 

You run straight to them with what little strength you can muster – intent on shaking Guizhong by the shoulders to scream, “No! This isn’t how things were supposed to be! You were supposed to live. I was supposed to save you!”

But none of these messages get across to either of the two. To them, you’re nothing but the breeze on their skin – violently whipping all around as the war only worsened. There aren’t any clear winners here, this is becoming clear to you. But as the God of Dust heaves her final breath, you hear Guizhong speak for the last time.

“Thank you… For honoring our contract,” she sighs, blood dribbling down the sides of her mouth as she forces herself to smile. In her hand, she lifts up a stone dumbbell with a complicated structure – something you’ve never seen before despite all the time you spent in her body.

“This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you.” Guizhong hands it to him shakily, still careful despite being on death’s doorstep. “All my wisdom is contained inside. If you can unlock it –”

She never gets to finish the words. A loud clap of thunder booms across the marsh – deafening even when you don’t have the body in this dream to perceive the sensation. Zhongli makes a mistake of letting the noise distract him, because when he glances at Guizhong once more, the woman he loves has already crumbled in his arms. 

Once the dust settles over the war-torn battlefield, Rex Lapis rises back to his feet. You can see the weight of his grief in the way his golden hands tremble at his sides. But just as quickly as his lover’s passing, he summons his polearm back in his hands – thrusting the hilt into the ground hard enough to break through the barren soil. The God of Contracts lets out a monstrous shout – terror rooting itself into your being. The sound is fearsome. Inescapable. 

And with a single twist of his hand, the earth starts to shake beneath your feet.

Xingqiu arrives at Hu Tao’s quarters faster than she anticipated, blue eyes startled to see the two bodies resting on top of her bed. The director pays his reaction no mind, though. Instead, she fills him in on the situation.

“I had my guards carry these two up here,” she explains, pointing a finger interchangeably at you and Zhongli. “That guy, I drugged to put him to sleep so she can get inside his dreams for sustenance. But it’s been about three hours, and neither of them are waking up.”

“What? She still hasn’t fed?” The incubus asks incredulously. “It’s been almost a month since I last saw her. Back then, she was already starving. Don’t tell me she’s been holding out all this time.”

“You’d be surprised at the lengths that stubbornness can take a person,” Hu Tao chuckles, leaning back into her seat as she twists some of the rings on her fingers. 

Xingqiu lets out a long, exasperated exhale as he sits by the bed – watching you and your so-called boyfriend doze soundly next to the other. But your deathly pale complexion doesn’t escape his notice. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve assumed you were dead.

“While I am very concerned about my friend’s destructive behavior,” he begins, casting a sidelong glance at the Wangsheng director. “I’m more curious about why you’re helping them in the first place. It’s not like you to meddle in things that are none of your business to begin with. And yet…”

Hu Tao sighs. She’s been hanging around this demon boy from the Guhua clan for too long. He can already discern what’s normal and unusual for her behavior, and she isn’t really a fan of being perceived like that.

But unwittingly, his words got her thinking.

“Remember how you pulled me out of the in-between when I tried to reach out to Grandfather in the afterlife? I nearly died because of it,” she sighs, remembering her past experiences with meddling none-too-fondly. “I can’t just stand here and watch my subordinate slowly kill herself the same way when I know someone who can help.”

Xingqiu sighs again. “Director, I’m an incubus, not a miracle worker. Us crossing paths at the in-between was nothing but a coincidence… But then again, that’s the same way I met her back then, too.” He casts your ghastly form a wistful glance. If he’d known that divulging information about your lover’s past memories would lead to this, he never would’ve said a word. 

“I need you to fetch both of them before they get trapped in their own dreams. I’ll fork over whatever amount you like,” Hu Tao proposes, her usually playful demeanor now replaced by something more grim. “Just – please. Save them.”

“...That’s a really tall order, you know?” The incubus shakes his head in disbelief. “The in-between is the last place I’d want to hang around, but this woman is my friend, too. You don’t have to cough up any –”

To both their surprise (and relief), Zhongli seizes up on the bed, sitting upright as he gasps for breath. Hu Tao uncharacteristically scrambles to hand him a glass of water, which he empties in the span of five seconds. But even if the sight of your boyfriend rousing himself from the dream is a good thing, Xingqiu notices how you’re yet to follow suit.

It seems that Zhongli followed his line of sight as well, and both him and Hu Tao can practically hear the sound of his heart plummeting straight to his stomach at the sight of you. 

“No,” he murmurs, a shaky hand reaching up to caress your face. “Not again…”

Again?

“Xingqiu, change of plans,” Hu Tao calls out softly as she meets his eyes. She doesn’t even need to elaborate further for him to understand. 

“What plan are you talking about?” Zhongli interrupts with a hard frown. “What did you do to her?”

“Oi, consultant. Don’t go accusing the people that are trying to help,” Hu Tao snarks, shooting him a dirty look. “We’re running out of time, so I’m going to give you the abridged version. Your girlfriend? She’s trapped in some place called the in-between. It’s the space that separates dreams from reality; the afterlife from the human realm.”

“But if she’s really trapped in your dream, she should’ve woken up at the same time you did,” Xingqiu adds. “That’s why I’m assuming she wandered too far and got herself stranded in your memories instead.”

“...My memories?” 

The director nods. “Yup. And unless she finds the key in her own subconscious and escapes on her own or someone else enters the same dreamscape and helps her…”

“She’ll be trapped in there forever.”

Both director and incubus stare at the poor man expectantly, wondering how he’ll take the information they just dumped on him. Xingqiu wouldn’t be surprised to see him call them a bunch of lunatics before contacting the authorities for the unsightly method Hu Tao employed just to get him to sleep. But Zhongli is strangely composed, nodding once, twice before turning to his half-dead lover.

“Tell me what I need to do,” he says quietly. In turn, Xingqiu breathes out another sigh in relief as Hu Tao claps her hands together gleefully.

“That’s the spirit, consultant!” The director beams. “Now let’s save your girlfriend, yeah?”

You didn’t want any of this.

The sounds of a never-ending battle rages on outside – the impact of gods fighting to the death causing your temporary shelter to quake where you hide yourself away. The cave you took refuge in resembles the one you woke up in the first time you attempted to feed on Zhongli, but you don’t bother making comparisons. Not that it matters. You’re nothing but a ghost anyways – unable to go back from whence you came, and unable to go to the next place you’re supposed to be.

Still, you didn’t want to bear witness to Zhongli slaughtering hundreds in mere seconds. You’ve seen him fight before – he’s always fought valiantly in this war especially when Guizhong was by his side. But now that she’s gone, the God of Contracts is nothing but a husk of a man.

All that’s left is a bloodthirsty killing machine that intends to paint the land in the angry red of his grief.

Despite how hopeless your situation is, you can’t help but pray to whoever’s listening. You want them to remind Rex Lapis of the dream he once shared with Guizhong – to build a nation by the harbor, where no gods nor monsters can hope to harm the Guili Assembly. But as long as he continues his onslaught of carnage, that dream will never be realized.

Then, you think about the Zhongli that’s waiting for you back home.

Regret is the first emotion that occurs in your ephemeral form. You wish you could have apologized for that night – for assuming that he still isn’t over his dead ex-lover. For attempting to alter memories that aren’t truly his own for the sake of your own ego. 

For never saying how much you loved him before disappearing for good. 

If only you communicated with him normally like a proper girlfriend should. If only you didn’t assume the worst about him just because he once loved someone more than he loved you sometime ago. 

You’ve heard of incidents where succubi and incubi aren’t able to wake up from their feedings. It’s either they’re trapped in an unstable human’s dream or trapped in their own because of internal instability. You don’t know exactly how to classify your situation, but you suppose that the reason why you can’t wake yourself up is because of Guizhong.

She became your vessel in these memories during your first successful feeding. And since then, you’ve used her body to traverse the strange land that she and Rex Lapis supposedly hold dominion over. But regardless of how careful you were with Guizhong, she still died. There was nothing you could do to change something that was already set in stone, and instead you lost your way back to where you truly belonged.

For someone who claims to hate her own heritage as a succubus, this just goes to show how much you actually relied on your powers.

Gods. This fucking sucks.

You can only imagine how devastated Zhongli would feel to find your lifeless body in the real world – clutching you to his chest the same way Rex did with Guizhong. Two girlfriends dying on him in the span of six years. You wonder if he’ll ever love again.

…If Zhongli was in your place, he would have spoken to you the moment he felt uneasy about your past. He would’ve asked for some reassurance so he wouldn’t have to worry like this. 

He never would’ve tried to change you.

He would’ve told you that he trusted you.  

You miss him so much that it tears you from the inside out. If only you can see him again – see that beautiful smile again – you’d hold him tight and tell him a million times. 

You’d tell him you were a coward. That you were too afraid of splitting his affections with a woman who doesn’t even exist anymore. 

But…it’s too late for all that now, isn’t it? 

Helplessly, you pull up your barely-there knees to your chest, burying your face in between as you make yourself smaller. You want to cry yourself hoarse, but the tears never come. All you can do is sit alone in the darkness, where you can only dream of someone finding you in the middle of the chaos.

You’re too caught up in your own sorrow to discern the beam of light that splinters through the darkness. You don’t notice the man that steps into the in-between with you; don’t notice as he approaches. It’s only when you feel the familiar sensation of a large, comforting hand on your shoulder that you snap out of your misery.

“There you are,” Zhongli – your Zhongli – breathes out. 

When you finally wake up, you feel like someone brought you back from the dead.

You can barely breathe without it feeling like the oxygen is ripping your lungs to shreds. But before you can asphyxiate yourself, a familiar figure hands you a glass of water, along with a handful of dried leaves. You glance up at Hu Tao in confusion as she stares at you nonchalantly. 

“You were in the in-between for gods-know how long,” the director reminds you. “Go chew on those to recover.”

“...I was what?”

“You were as good as dead.” The sound of Xingqiu’s familiar voice makes you jump, but the incubus simply turns the page on his novel from where he’s seated by the foot of the unfamiliar bed. “I’ve heard of succubi going a few weeks without food, but two months? Do you have a death wish?”

Your head is spinning from all the whiplash, and you actually take Hu Tao’s advice and drink some water before chewing on her magic leaves. But when you notice that there’s someone else occupying the mattress with you, your heart soars with relief.

“Hello,” Zhongli greets you.

“Hi,” you greet him back.

In your peripheral, you can see Hu Tao mouthing something you can’t decipher to Xingqiu – a message that your incubus friend is quick to pick up on before the two of them step out of the room to give you more privacy. Now that you noticed it, you were probably taken up to the director’s quarters at some point during your coma. Either way, once the door clicks shut, it’s just you and Zhongli – the first time you’ve been alone with him since that night in your apartment.

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?” you say nervously, unsure where you should even begin. But you suppose an apology is a good starting point. “I’m…sorry. For everything.”

Zhongli sighs, sitting up right to pull you in a tight hug. The abruptness of the gesture makes you drop the leaves on the bed, stunning you into complete silence.

“I thought I lost you,” he nearly chokes – a sound that you never would’ve imagined Zhongli making. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

The pure anguish in his voice makes your heart clench, and now that you have a body that actually lets you feel things, you’re finally given the familiar sensation of eyes stinging with tears. You return Zhongli’s embrace with equal fervor – letting yourself sob into the hollow of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babble, chest seizing with tremors as you curl your fingers into his hair. “I never should’ve hidden the truth about me. I never should’ve meddled with the past. And… I never should’ve questioned the way you feel about me.”

You can feel Zhongli’s erratic pulse against your chest, and you find the fact that it’s possible for his heart to race a relief to know. When he pulls away, his cheeks are wet with tears – not the golden liquid that poured from Rex Lapis’ eyes, but the very same tears that you’re crying right this second.

This is your Zhongli. This is the man you fell in love with. 

You wonder why you even tried to change a past he experienced in a different life – knowing full well just how different he is from the God of Contracts.

“I love you,” you murmur, pressing your forehead against his. “Zhongli, I love you.” 

“And as I do you,” he breathes. “The director and the Guhua boy have already informed me of your…special circumstances, but I’d like to hear the tale of your escapades in my dreams some other time.”

You pause. “So you don’t want me to explain why I did everything I did?”

“Of course I do.” Zhongli shakes his head. “But…I was also told that you’ve been depriving yourself of sustenance for nearly two months now. As your lover, I’m inclined to help you out of your predicaments, yes?”

Oh. Oh.

“B-But we’re in the director’s room…” you tell him bashfully, feeling a surge of heat creep up your neck. “And I owe you a proper explanation for –”

He promptly shuts you up with a kiss. The nerve of this guy!

“Darling, will you allow me to make love to you?” he murmurs the words against your lips, already pulling you to his lap. “Properly this time.”

You know you should snap him out of it and insist that you’re fine. That you’ll last another day without sex if that means you can sufficiently explain yourself because Zhongli deserves as much. But you remember, at that moment, that you’re particularly weak when he starts to trail featherlight kisses along your neck. Zhongli knows this as well as you do, and you can feel him smile triumphantly when you let out a sigh in defeat. 

He doesn’t bother removing your clothes; practically tearing a hole into your pantyhose at his impatience. You balk at him for doing such a thing, but Zhongli promises to buy you another set once everything is settled. 

“Do you find it strange that I’m terribly aroused despite everything that happened?” he asks you, hauling his cock out of his unzipped trousers as he gives it a few pumps. 

“Not at all,” you respond in kind. “I’ve always thought you were hornier than you seemed. It’s always the prim and proper ones, you know?”

You bite your lip as you grind your clothed cunt against his hardening length, feeling your desire pool in between your thighs at the mere thought of him inside you. Zhongli bites down his laughter, nuzzling the crook of your neck as he spreads you open on his lap.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Nudging your underwear aside, you sink yourself onto his thick length with a blissful sigh – feeling his cockhead hitting all the right spots. Zhongli plants his palms firmly on your hips, barely able to contain the hunger in his eyes as he watches you bounce on top of his dick. Your skirt hikes further up your thighs with each downward plunge, and your lover cares to swallow your moans with an open-mouthed kiss.

You all but muffle a scream into his lips when you feel Zhongli thrusting his hips up to meet the cadence of your movements. Tears catch in the lines of your lashes from how good it feels, and you nearly come right then and there when he pulls away to whisper in your ear.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he promises. “My seed will drip down your thighs from here on out so you’ll never forget where you belong.”

“By your side?” you whisper, purposely clenching your walls around his length to elicit a reaction.

Zhongli grunts in approval, much to your amusement. “By my side.” 

He switches things up at the last minute, flipping you over so that you’re lying down on the bed. You open your mouth to protest, but Zhongli is already pressing your knees against your thighs – plunging his cock into the velvet heat of your cunt as he hits it deeper than before. 

“I’d gladly fuck you everyday if that means you’ll never starve again,” your lover tells you with a growl, golden irises boring deep into your own. “Would you like that? Would you like me to sate your needs?”

“Yes,” you mewl as your fingers rake across his back. “Yes, yes yes! I only want you, Zhongli. Please –”

Your climax blindsides you out of nowhere, cunt squeezing around his cock impossibly tight. You screw your eyes shut, burying your face in his shoulder as your body shudders and trembles from the force of it. Zhongli, however, is intent on taking advantage of your vulnerable state. He doesn’t relent – just continues pounding you into the bed as he chases his own high.

“You’re the only one I love,” he tells you all of a sudden, momentarily pulling you out of your lustful haze. “You might not be the first, but you’ll certainly be the last.”

“Stop saying cheesy things while you’re fucking my brains out,” you moan. “You’re going to make me cry…”

“Heh, that’s the point.”

As promised, Zhongli finishes inside you with a shuddering sigh – and you feel the surge of his hot seed painting your insides. You’ve never felt so satisfied after having real sex with a real human, but when you’re actually in love with the person you’re sleeping with, you suppose there’s lots of room for exceptions.

“So why were you chasing ghosts that don’t even haunt me anymore?” 

You finish the rest of the water that Hu Tao offered earlier when Zhongli asks you the million-dollar question. Your heart twists with both guilt and apprehension, but you know that this is the best time to lay the truth on the table. 

“I was…bothered when you called me by the thing that Rex Lapis called Guizhong the goddess in your dreams,” you admit. “I thought you were thinking about Guizhong your ex while you were with me.”

Zhongli nods as he fixes his own clothes, an unreadable look settling on his face. “Rex Lapis…is the identity I had in a past life, isn’t it? And Guizhong was his lover.” 

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t explain why you tried to alter my memories, though,” he points out.

“Well, I thought if I could lessen the pain of your memories of Guizhong, you’d stop thinking about her and start thinking about me.” Gods, you sound like such a fucking brat. “That – That was really childish of me. I’m sorry. I even got the director and Xingqiu involved because of my own impulsiveness…”

“If you look at it that way then, yes. It is very childish of you. But I think that just goes to show how deeply you feel about me,” Zhongli suggests with a handsome smile, reaching out to hold your hand in his. “You want me to look at you, and only you?” 

“Of course I do,” you mumble. “You want me to do the same for you, right? I’m just trying to make things even…”

Your lover lets out another laugh, raising your hand to his lips as he places a soft kiss on your skin. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to Zhongli’s show of affection.

“Guizhong…is a person who’s near and dear to me even now,” he says, going off a tangent as he rubs comforting circles into your wrist. “But do you know the last thing she told me before she passed?” 

You shake your head. “What?”

“That I shouldn’t chain myself to the past, no matter how painful it is to carry on,” Zhongli continues. “My life here is much simpler than the life Rex Lapis lived. I have no idea what you saw in my – rather, his memories to make you assume that the same applies for me. But I assure you that I’m not a man who’ll punish himself by constantly mulling over what-ifs and could-have-beens.

“All that matters is the present, and what I choose to do now, while you’re still by my side.”

…Damn it. You’re feeling the waterworks again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whisper, squeezing his hand just to make sure he was real.

“That, I’m afraid I can’t answer,” he chuckles. “But, on the topic of your immeasurable love, the Guhua boy imparted another interesting piece of information before lending me his powers to save you.”

“...Wait, I’ve been wondering how you got inside the in-between,” you tell him. “So it was Xingqiu? How the hell did he do that?”

“Darling, please refrain from asking questions I don’t have answers to.”

“Fine, fine. What did he say that was so interesting then?”

Zhongli laughs, and something about the shift in his tone makes you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “Director Hu said you tried to harvest energy from other men while you were on the brink of death but it didn’t work. Xingqiu informed us that when your kind starts to feel strongly about a certain human, you won’t be able to harness energy anywhere else apart from that person.”

“...Why do I feel like you’re just gloating now?”

“That’s because I am.”

The sound of the door sliding abruptly catches your attention. Hu Tao emerges from the entrance as she claps her hands loudly. “Alright, that’s enough lovey-dovey chit-chat. I’m going to have the maids launder my sheets first before I sleep in them tonight!”

Your face flushes with embarrassment. “Director Hu Tao, I –”

“Aiya! No apologies. It’s all good,” she insists. “But hey, consultaaant~ Now that I let you and your girlfriend have reunion sex in my quarters, you’re not going to press any charges for assault, will you?”

“Wait, what charges?” Your gaze darts between the two of them curiously.

Zhongli drags a palm over his face, as if having just realized something terrible. “In order to help you get into my dreams, the director laced my tea with a potent drug. I was unconscious for quite some time. But I won’t press any charges, since I have little patience for the tedium of the Liyue Police Station.”

“Aww, you’re the best!” Hu Tao gushes before turning to you. “By the way, Xingqiu already went ahead, but he asked me to give you this.” 

You blink as Hu Tao hands you a sleek black business card with the words “Dr. Paimon” printed with embossed lettering. Zhongli peers over your shoulder, examining the card with the same degree of curiosity.

“He didn’t really elaborate, but rumor has it, that person can turn you into a normal human,” the director explains, smiling with intent. “I figured that since you’re probably gonna want to spend the rest of your life with the old man, you’d want to give up your immortality.”

Immortality… A staple that comes with being a succubus. It’s one of the most fundamental reasons why your kind fed on sexual energy in the first place, yet you never stopped to think of your future if you stayed immortal, while Zhongli continues to age with the passage of time. 

You won’t be able to start a family with him; have his children; grow old with him. Because that’s the fate that your kind has long been cursed with since they first walked the earth. But now, you’re given a way out – even if it sounds too good to be true.

You’re afraid to look at Zhongli. You feel like you should accept the offer, but everything that transpired today is just so overwhelming that you’re not sure if you can make the right choice…

But as always, he’s here to support you.

“You don’t have to make a decision now,” he reminds. “We still have work tomorrow, so I suggest we head home and rest first. I’m sure that can wait.”

…Being thrust back into the nightmare that is the Liyuen corporate ladder after nearly dying in the in-between. Way to maintain a sense of normalcy, Zhongli. 

Well, ‘normal’ is the best thing that the universe can give to you right now. Too bad you’re not selfless enough to deny the one thing you’ve been craving after all this time.

“Miss? Here’s the tea you asked for.”

Ganyu’s voice flits through your ears like a calming breeze. She places your drink on your desk – just behind a plaque that reads Wangsheng Corporation - Consultant. The scent of freshly brewed qingxin petals wafts to your nose and you feel every nerve ending in your body relax at the more aroma.

“Thank you,” you tell her kindly. “You’re right. This tea really does work miracles.”

Your secretary hides a giggle behind her hand. “Both Lady Ningguang and Mister Zhongli became fond of it when I started working for them. I figured it would be the same with you.”

The golden band on your finger seems to glint in the sunlight streaming into your office as you take a few sips. You used to think that tea was nothing but leaf water, but if you have someone like Zhongli for a husband, you’re bound to start appreciating the finer things in life – Ganyu’s herbal remedy included.

“Oh, that reminds me,” she perks up. “Is the director coming back soon? I heard that four months is already a good time to check for the gender.”

You’re a bit surprised by her words, but Ganyu has always exhibited her excitement for the budding life in your womb the moment you made the announcement a few months back. 

“Zhongli’s secretary told me he should be home by the end of the week,” you tell her kindly, free hand instinctively going to the slight swell of your belly. “Once we figure out whether it’s a boy or a girl, I promise you’re the first person we’ll inform.”

She gasps. “You really mean that, miss?”

“Why not? You’re the godmother after all~”

Once Ganyu recovers from the initial shock from being assigned as your child’s godmother, you’re left to your lonesome once more. 

It’s been six months since Hu Tao stepped down as the director for Wangsheng Corporation – passing the title onto Zhongli – and six months since you’ve held office as the company’s new consultant. At times, you still find it strange, how you’re the one giving advice with regards to your husband’s dealings with other businesses. But you remind yourself that everything happens all in due time. 

Your old life as a succubus is way behind you now, but there are moments where you still think of what happened to Rex Lapis after Guizhong’s death. Did he get killed by the other gods? Did he lead the Guili Assembly to the harbor? What happened to the stone dumbbell Guizhong gave to him? You’ll never know now that you’ve lost the ability to travel through dreams. 

But in the back of your head, you hoped he was able to find some sort of deliverance from the pain induced by his lover’s passing.

In the midst of your contemplation, your phone buzzes with a text – one that you’re quick to open.

Zhongli [10:54]: I’m boarding the plane at Fontaine National Airport right now. Should be back by tonight :)

Huh. That was earlier than expected.

Me [10:54] We’ll be waiting with a nice bottle of osmanthus ^__^

Zhongli [10:55]: Darling, please. Drinking is bad for the baby

Me [10:55]: One glass won’t cause genetic disorders, Zhongli.

Zhongli [10:56]: Very well… I’ll still make sure to watch your consumption though.

Me [10:56]: Fine by me <3 Take care on the way back. I love you.

Zhongli [11:15]: Sorry, just got past a checkpoint. I love you, too.

You put away your phone with a sigh, tracing the rim of your teacup absentmindedly. For good measure, you pinch your cheek the same way Hu Tao used to do when she was still in charge – just to make sure you’re not dreaming. 

But the baby is intent on helping you out with that when you feel it kick a bit too hard against your navel.

“Okay, point taken,” you mumble. 

A year ago, you wouldn’t have pictured yourself carrying a human child – much more picturing yourself as a human. But you learned that time is kind to those who wait. It’s just as Zhongli said: regardless of everything that happened in the past, what’s important is what you do now in the present. 

And to you, that’s all that matters. 

★ MASTERLIST . AO3 ★

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.

[cryoculus]

sorry 4 the spam im gna disappear off the face of this blog for the next few days to compensate 🫡

[cryoculus]

— masterlist ✧

× all of these contain smut unless stated otherwise

× some fics might contain more plot than porn :’)

× completed (❄️ ) on-going (🧺) coming soon (🎐) 

× personal picks (✨) most popular (🌟) 

★ — ARATAKI ITTO

↳ reparations | 🧺 × tags: modern au, flower shop, comedy, mutual pining, slow burn, no smut

running a business in hanamizaka was one thing—but doing so in the turf of the arataki gang was something else entirely. although, as long as you paid rent on time, they assured that you wouldn't run into any trouble. that's until the boss crashed his motorcycle into your shop, inviting all sorts of trouble along the way.

★ — CHILDE

↳ death sentence | 🎐 × tags: childhood friends, unrequited love, unhealthy relationships, angst

losing him once was a warning. losing him twice was punishment. but losing him a third time was pure catharsis.

↳ sin & tonic | 🎐 × tags: threesome, banter, annoying!childe, established fwb!kaeya

all you wanted was to unwind after two stressful weeks on the job. unfortunately for you, childe and kaeya have other plans.

★ — DAINSLEIF

↳ all in a day's work | 🎐 × tags: caretaking, introspection, no smut

your inn is widely famous among a variety of people. from the scholars of sumeru to the merchants of liyue, you've certainly built a good reputation for yourself. when your workers bring in a half-dead outlander, though, you arrive at quite an impasse.

★ — DILUC

↳ happy accidents | 🎐 × tags: friends to lovers, banter

being kindred spirits in solitude, a quiet evening away from the festivities is just what you and your good friend, diluc needed. until you accidentally fell into a lake and made your night ten times worse (read: better).

↳ paradoxical | 🎐 × tags: love triangle, childhood friends, pining, unrequited love, angst

in which you think fleeing to a different city is an acceptable coping mechanism, and how the two most important men in your life prove you wrong in the most convoluted manner possible.

★ — KAEYA

↳ paradoxical | 🎐 × tags: love triangle, childhood friends, pining, unrequited love, angst

in which you think fleeing to a different city is an acceptable coping mechanism, and how the two most important men in your life prove you wrong in the most convoluted manner possible.

↳ sin & tonic | 🎐 × tags: threesome, banter, annoying!childe, established fwb!kaeya

all you wanted was to unwind after two stressful weeks on the job. unfortunately for you, childe and kaeya have other plans.

↳ tangled up | 🎐 × tags: modern au, one night stands, teacher!reader, no smut

the one where you have connections in all the wrong places, and the parties involved aren't exactly making things easier for you.

★ — KAMISATO AYATO

↳ lotus eater | ❄️ × tags: established relationship, fluff, no smut

you’ve been by Ayato’s side 5 out of the 26 years he’s been blessed with today and you intend to stay until the very last one.

↳ thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife | ❄️ × tags: established relationship, resolved sexual tension

thoma was taught to only take what’s reasonably given to him. but what if ayato offers something he can’t refuse?

★ — THOMA

↳ guard dog | ❄️✨ × tags: enemies to lovers, found family, slow burn

you’re a skilled mercenary who takes odd jobs all around inazuma to make ends meet. so when the shogunate hires you to assassinate the lady of the kamisato clan, you don’t think much of it. that’s until you grossly miscalculate how good of a guard dog her chief retainer actually is.

↳ thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife | ❄️ × tags: established relationship, resolved sexual tension

thoma was taught to only take what’s reasonably given to him. but what if ayato offers something he can’t refuse?

★ — XIAO

↳ imagine being loved by me! | ❄️🌟 × tags: childhood friends to lovers, tattoo artist!xiao, angst

the one where your best friend gives you ten tattoos over the next ten years. the problem? you fall deeper in love each time the ink stains your skin.

★ — ZHONGLI

↳ dream a little (dream of me) | ❄️✨ × tags: modern au, office au, succubi & incubi, past lives, angst

you're a modern-day succubus just trying to get by, and your superior, mister zhongli is next on your hit-list. but every time you invade his dreams, he becomes someone else entirely…

© cryoculus | kaientai ✧ all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my work on other platforms without permission.