#GIVE ME YOUR FEMALE CANON AND OCS

[katyspersonal]

Thinking about that time when a popular artist was a prick to me personally (claimed that I "baited" them for a conflict when all I did was pointing out something in lore contradicting their claim, without any rudeness or condescension, and basically told me to go hang out with other autists instead of bothering them) but the reason I blocked them was not that, it was the fact that they've admitted on not even caring about the source material and just using scraps from it to do their own thing. Priorities hfngkfngj

[euthymiya]

it always ends with i love you ft. wriothesley — in which you, a small floral shop owner, meet the duke of meropide by a chance encounter—and then you meet a bunch more too…but not so much by chance anymore

contains: 20.3k work count (please give it a chance i put my soul into it) ; female reader ; mature content—not suitable for minors ; strangers to friends to lovers ; flower shop au + florist reader ; reader has a small backstory regarding her dead father ; use of canon flowers and and lore, meaning i did my best so please be gentle on me with my botany facts ; heavy spoilers for wriothesley’s story quest and backstory, explores themes such as murder and hints at child exploitation and trafficking—all pertaining to his adopted home life ; slight oc’s because i gave a few of his adopted siblings names ; a fun neuvillette and clorinde appearance! ; a not so fun childe appearance + jealousy ; a short argument ; love confessions and getting together ; wriothesley is scared of love (anyone who had to kill their parents should be tbh) ; reader sits on his lap/lays on him ; there’s sex in every scene lol i got carried away—includes vaginal fingering ; cunnilingus ; nipple play ; hand + blow jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; creampie

the first time you meet wriothesley is by accident.

he doesn’t exactly come up to the surface regularly—he sees the sun frequently enough to remember what sunlight feels like if he tries to recall, but not enough that most people of fontaine would know he’s the duke of meropide just by looking at him.

he likes it that way. the duke is no small title, and he’d prefer the trip through the streets of the court without being stopped for idle chit-chat.

he doesn’t intend on stopping on his way to the palais, but you’re a bit of a unique circumstance.

he hears the smashing sound of something breaking before the scream, quickly glancing over his shoulder at the noise. nothing could have prepared him for a flower shop to be the source of such chaos—what could be chaotic about selling petals on a stem?

except you’re clumsily chasing after a man as he stumbles past your door, knocking over the potted plants on display in the process as you follow him.

the look of distress on your face as the pot falls and shatters compels him to investigate the scene. (of course, there’s a note of distress on your face before the pot falls, but the way it deepens when it does is almost criminal. your face is too lovely to have such creases in your forehead, even if he won’t admit as much out loud).

“stop! please,” you call, “you haven’t paid for those!”

thievery. wriothesley knows a thing or two about pocketing things that don’t belong to him.

first, it’s because he spends a portion of his life on the streets, surviving more than living. those moments reduce him down to a simple pocket thief at times. (he had standards for his crimes: never too much and only enough to survive for a bit. always from someone who dresses expensively and looks like they’re comfortable enough not to feel the damage to their wallets. and, of course, never from women).

second, it’s because people, on the streets or in the fortress, love to steal from those who are weak and vulnerable. people who are sleeping are of that classification of individuals, so wriothesley learns how to keep his things hidden and how to be a light sleeper. he’s never had too many things that are precious to him, of course, but he owns little enough that he’d notice his losses harshly should they come.

he hates thievery. partly because it reminds him of his past and the darkness that taints it, but mostly because it always involves someone innocent who doesn’t deserve to lose. not even a little.

his feet carry him over to the scene before he can stop himself—not that he would stop himself even if he did have control over his body, but it’s just that this particular circumstance seems to have him in some sort of trance. one that won’t allow him to look away from your face.

“please,” you follow the man past your shop’s door, “those are the last of my glaze lilies—i promised them in an order!”

the man running doesn’t seem to care about your pleas, snickering as he turns to give you an amused look, as if your distress is entertaining. he doesn’t make it far, though, before he bumps into a muscled chest.

“what the—”

wriothesley cuts him off, raising a brow. “i do believe the lovely lady here has asked for her flowers back. or did you miss that part?”

“and just who do you think you are, mister?” the man barks, glaring wriothesley up and down. (it’s a bit funny, considering he’s much shorter, so it takes a tad bit of effort on his part to give wriothesley the menacing once over it’s meant to be). “i don’t remember asking you what she asked.”

“oh me?” wriothesley cracks his knuckles casually, shrugging as he says, “duke of meropide at your service. i must say, i’m not very popular around here—not a lot of people know me, it seems.”

your jaw drops. the man’s face pales—which is a nice confirmation, at least, that he does have some sort of a brain.

“w-what? and just why would i believe that? you expect me to think the fortress’s duke is just prancing around the streets as if he hasn’t got duties? as if!”

wriothesley’s lips quirk up at the edges as he hums, fishing through the pocket of his shirt before he pulls out an envelope, sealed with the stamp of the iudex himself. there’s writing on it in clear letters, bold and italicized, as if just to mock the man.

to: duke wriothesley

from: iudex neuvillette

“that clear things up for you?” wriothesley asks, traces of a cheeky glint in his eyes as he raises a brow.

instantly, the man is clasping his hands, head bowing as a string of incoherent apologies flows past his shaky lips. “i-i’m sorry! i’ve never done anything like this before, you can check! my records are clean! i-it was a moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again, sir. p-please don’t take me to monsieur neuvillette. or court. or—”

“your first thieving gig, and you picked flowers?” wriothesley snorts, “i almost don’t want to bring you to court just save myself from the embarrassment.”

the man flushes, bashfully shrinking as he mumbles, “w-well i just…i just wanted to get flowers for my girlfriend for our anniversary and these…th-they’re her favorite you know? b-but they’re hard to come by since liyue is so far and…and the lady wouldn’t sell them to me so…you know…i uh…” the man trails off, wilting as wriothesley’s stares down, unimpressed. “i promised her i’d get them,” he adds, as if it’ll help.

“what a tragic sob story you got there,” wriothesley deadpans. “your girlfriend must love your honesty.”

“if i may interrupt,” you call from behind, making both men glance over to where you stand some distance away.

wriothesley forgot you were there, truthfully. but now that he’s taking in your appearance up closer, he can’t help but appreciate it. your features complement each other well—like an assortment of carefully arranged flowers, hand-picked one by one by celestia themselves.

“hello miss,” he nods, raising a hand to half-wave at you, “don’t worry, i’ll get this man out of your hair in a moment with your flowers too. just give me a sec—”

“no,” you say softly, “no it’s okay. he can keep some of them…i’m sure i can make do with a shorter hand than usual.”

he blinks. you couldn’t have possibly offered to let your thief keep his earnings at your expense, could you? he can’t decide if you're just that naive, just that foolish, or truly just that kind.

maybe all three, if he’s being honest.

“uh…are you sure?” he tilts his head in disbelief, “you want to let him keep the flowers?”

“partially,” you confirm, “it’s alright. everyone deserves flowers on their anniversary. especially their favorite.”

wriothesley decides you’re just that kind—and in some ways, it’s worse than being a bit on the naive side. at least you can sharpen yourself to become untrusting and skeptical if naivety gets you in trouble. kindness is as easy to take advantage of as it is to take for granted, and it’s not just something people like you can turn off like a switch.

“oh, thank you!” the man exclaims as soon as the words come out of your mouth, not wasting a second to grin at you as he says, “you’re really so kind! if you’d just tell the duke here that it was all a misunderstanding and that you’d like to drop all charges, then i’ll be on my way with partial the flowers—”

“make no mistake,” your hands find your hips as your face hardens with a certain strictness even he’s a bit startled by, “if you should come here and cause trouble again, i have the duke’s word to press double the charges next time. i would tread carefully if i were you—don’t ever let me catch you stealing from me again.”

wriothesley stares at you and gapes. he’s sorely mistaken about you—kindness is not the absence of your spitefulness, and the man shrinks back as you stare down at him expectantly.

“o-of course,” he says quickly, “it won’t happen again.”

“good,” you nod, “that’ll be five hundred mora, please.”

“b-but—”

“is there a problem?” you raise a menacing brow, making the man scramble to shake his head. 

“wow,” wriothesley snorts as the man scampers off after fishing enough mora from his pockets, “i suppose i underestimated your ability to handle the situation, miss.”

“i think i owe a good portion of my success to you, your grace,” you bow your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes as you nervously chuckle, “i don’t usually have robberies. the people in this area are familiar with me. they’re quite kind—i’ve never had someone as stubborn as him.”

“well, rest assured, if he bothers you again, you can come to find me for my word at court.”

“i’ll hold onto the offer,” you grin.

that chance meeting becomes history after a while. he comes and pays you a visit every time he’s at the surface, which isn’t all too often, but often enough that you start to look forward to at least one routine visit per month. sometimes, he teases you about whether or not you’ve had new thieves pay you a visit. other times, you make use of his strong hands and built muscles and cheekily order him around to move heavy bags of fertilizer around. 

he likes tea, you learn—he takes a very piqued interest in the jars of dried petals you keep on shelves, ones you tell him are good for making blends for tea, or to boil with water for natural remedies, or to make syrups for beverages like lemonade. it’s a slow, steady, blossoming friendship until, all at once, you feel incomplete without the routine visit from the fortress’s warden. you’re too reliant on the familiarity of explaining flowers, their origins, what stories they share, and what they mean—and likewise, you feel incomplete without his stories from the fortress, what the inmates are up to, and what changes he’s developing to make things better for the people under his wing. 

you like to think he feels the same way; otherwise, he wouldn’t come around as much as he does. 

sometimes he walks you home, and sometimes you invite him for tea. you drink coffee, but you don’t mind the trouble of brewing two beverages if it means some extra time with him in your cozy little home.

like today, where he sits comfortably at your dining table while you cut fresh bulle fruit as tea steeps in the hot water. he watches you with fond eyes, listening as you ramble intently about your recent endeavors at your flower shop.

“—and i think i’ve finally managed to grow a cactus from sumeru long enough to bloom my own henna berries,” you grin, looking at him brightly, pride settling into the crinkles of your eyes, “it did take some trial and error—fontaine rains far too often for cacti to survive, but this one i managed to grow indoors.”

“couldn’t you just get the berries delivered from sumeru? since you have plenty delivered from there already,” he asks in amusement. you huff, rolling your eyes as you walk over, setting the platter of fruit down before him. 

“of course, you’d want to take such a simple route—but plants are far more rewarding when you grow them yourself, you know. plus, every fruit i’ve managed to grow on my own here in fontaine has had a bit of a unique flavor as opposed to ones grown from their original nation. i’d like to see if that’s the case with these berries, too.”

“well, if that’s the case,” he hums, taking a slow sip from the tea you’ve brewed for him—it’s perfectly made to his liking, with two sugar cubes and piping hot just as you’ve learned he prefers. he closes his eyes and lets out a content sigh as the warmth trickles down his throat. “let me try one when they’re ready.”

“of course,” you brighten excitedly, as though the prospect of someone to share such a moment with is one you look forward to. there’s something that tickles in his chest, right beneath his ribcage, at the sight of your wide grin.

you chatter until the sun sets, warm, honeyed rays of orange and pink pouring through your windows and painting his skin vibrant hues. it’s about time for him to leave—you can tell even before he clears his throat and stands, grabbing the plate and mug and heading to the sink.

“i should go,” he says kindly, washing the dishes with so much familiarity that it almost feels domestic and natural to have him here. you shake the thought out of your head as quickly as it enters your head. “thank you for having me this evening.”

“oh, i think we’re past the formalities,” you huff a small laugh, “you’re doing my dishes.”

“technically they’re my dishes,” he chuckles, “since i did dirty them.”

you hum, walking over to where he stands as he turns the faucet off—until a small twist of your ankle has you gasping as you stumble forward. you brace yourself for the impact of the hardwood floor, but instead, you’re met with a firm yet soft chest as strong arms wrap around your waist and catch you before you can fall.

“oh,” you breathe as you open your eyes, staring into him with just as widened pupils as him. 

“are you okay?” he asks quietly, voice just barely audible as he whispers to you—he’s so close, so painfully close, you think the only reason you heard him was because of the proximity. 

“yeah,” you nod. it’s hardly a nod, really—if you were to move your head too much, you’d risk brushing your nose against his. or maybe even your lips. “i’m fine. thank you.”

“yeah, no problem,” his eyes are still trained on yours, and neither of you can find it in yourselves to pull away. you can’t, and he definitely doesn’t, and nothing seems to give as you stare at each other. you’re pressed against his chest, and his arms are wrapped around you, and there’s a strange beating in both of your chests that you think you can just barely make out.

they almost seem to beat in sync, rapid and untamed. so, so fast, you wonder if it’s even healthy.

you don’t know who does it first—or maybe it was the both of you. all you know is that one second, you’re staring at each other, and the next, your heads are tilted so that your lips meet tentatively. he hesitates at the first brush of your lips, but your hands cup his cheeks and pull him forward, making his eyes flutter shut as he shakily breathes into your mouth. it’s so slow, so dizzyingly slow, that you wonder if time has just stopped altogether to grant you a moment with no interruptions. 

he fits perfectly against you, the soft flesh of his cheeks spilling over your palms, your thumb rubbing affectionately into the skin as he nips at your lips, kissing you like he’s waited his whole life to feel you. the curves of his mouth connect with the curves of yours like pieces of a puzzle, like he was carved to match you from the same stone. 

you’re not sure how long you kiss like that, but slowly, it grows needier, more quick and hasty as your hands leave his cheeks to wander to his hair and gently tug at the strands as his hands wander to your waist and lower back, feeling every curve of you as he groans into your mouth. 

he tries to pull away, but you chase after him, unwilling to let go.

“w-wait,” he mumbles, “maybe we should stop—”

“you really want to?” you ask breathlessly, and all it takes is one glance down at your glossy, swollen lips for him to close his eyes and shiver.

“no,” he admits hoarsely, “i don’t. are…are you sure about this?”

“yes,” you whisper instantly.

he doesn’t waste a moment, quickly pulling you into your bedroom as you both collapse on the mattress. you climb onto his lap, crotch pressing against the semi-hardened erection in his pants, the press of your heat against his bulge earning a low, drawn-out groan from him that shoots straight to your clit with a dull ache. 

“sweetheart,” he says in between kisses, making you inhale sharply at the pet name, “you’re killing me here.”

“okay,” you smile against his mouth, pecking it sweetly before you add, “then let me do something about that.”

he doesn’t expect you to drop down between his legs, face to face with the obvious tent in his pants—wriothesley is a gentleman, a giver before he is a taker. his first instinct is to protest as he opens his mouth and starts to say, “hang on—you don’t have to—”

“i want to,” you pout, looking up at him, “please? i want to.”

when was the last time someone looked up at him like that, staring up at him like pleasing him is the only way they’ll survive? he doesn’t recall, doesn’t think it’s ever happened, in fact. he groans, head falling back against your bed frame as he nods slowly. 

“okay,” he concedes, lifting his hips up so you can pull his pants down his legs, leaving him in his boxers. there’s a wet patch where his tip meets the cloth, the evidence of pre cum drooling from his swollen head that makes you hum in satisfaction as you leave a tender kiss on the spot through the fabric. he gasps, hips jolting as his thighs clench at the teasing touch.

“can i?” you purr, hand rubbing soothingly over his tense thigh as he swallows and nods, looking anywhere but at you as he breathes harshly. 

“y-yes,” he grunts, “please.”

you’re freeing his cock as soon as he utters the plead, letting him spring free and meet the cool air. he hisses, gritting his teeth as his chest rises and falls erratically, labored breaths that he tries to use to calm himself as he stands painfully hard between his legs. 

“pretty,” you murmur, entranced at the sheer size of him—he’s flushed an almost painful red at his thick tip, leaking enough pre cum that you’d think he might have already had his release with the way it runs down the side of his hardened length. 

your hand wraps gently around the tip, thumb smearing the pre cum along the tip before coating the rest of his cock, using it as lubrication for the steady stroke of your hand along the girth. he throws his head back, groaning as his hips buck into your touch before he stops himself, frantically trying to keep himself still and let you take your time. 

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “that…that feels nice.”

“yeah?” you breathe, smiling as you press a kiss to his thigh as he chokes on a grunt while your hand slowly pumps him. “am i doing it right?”

“you’re doing just fine,” he assures, biting his lip as he finally can’t keep himself from bucking impatiently into your fist any longer, “feel free to do more, though.”

you giggle, pressing a soft kiss to his lip before gliding your tongue through his slit and watching as he melts against your bed frame at the gesture, body loosening up like he’s limbless as you slowly take him into your mouth, swallowing around his cock and bobbing your head, pumping the rest with your hand that you can’t fit down your throat. 

“shit,” he curses, hand cupping the back of your head as he guides you up and down his length, moaning your name when you swirl your tongue around the tip, “you…you’re so good at this, yeah? take me so well in that pretty mouth of yours.”

you hum around him, making him cry out at the vibrations around his cock, one hand running through his hair as he tries to keep himself grounded, the other still cradling the back of your head. he’s a gentleman, though, living up to one just as much as he always lets on to be when he doesn’t force you to take more of him by pushing your head down or burying himself deeper into your throat by fucking his hips into your mouth. he lets you do things at your own pace, and you think it’s enough when you feel the telling signs of his release as his panting grows harsher and his cock twitches in your mouth.

“w-wait, wait,” he says frantically, “i’ll cum—i’ll cum. not yet, not until i have you.”

you reluctantly pull away, a trail of spit connecting from your lips to his tip that makes him close his eyes and groan, clenching his jaw as his near-orgasm dies down to nothing again. his cock is achingly hard, hot and swollen and throbbing after denying himself for the sake of feeling you.

“c’mere,” he motions for you to climb onto his lap. you do, sitting on his thigh as he slowly trails a thumb under your shirt, rubbing the skin with a feather-light, heated touch that has you shivering against him. “you sure you want this?”

“i want it,” you whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his lips that he reciprocates with a low hum of approval, “with you.”

“such a sweet way with words,” he murmurs, slowly pulling your blouse over your head and unclasping your bra, tossing them to the side as he marvels at the view of your tits. “such a sweet view, too. beautiful.” 

you flush at the praise, looking away. but his hands grab at your breasts, large as they cup them and massage lightly, thumbs running over the pert nipples as you shudder and breathe out a light gasp. 

“wriothesley, need more—”

“give me a moment,” he shushes you, “and then i’ll give you what you want.”

he admires you like that for a bit, sat on his thigh as your eyes flutter shut and his thumbs tease your nipples, wetness pooling in your core that he can feel on his thigh—you’d be embarrassed, you really would, but it’s not as though his cock is any less leaky at the head. 

finally, he inhales sharply, sitting up slightly to unbutton his shirt, revealing the scars down his chest before he helps you out of your pants. you stare at the harsh, jagged lines that pain his skin, raised, discolored skin, the only evidence of some brutal, vicious past that he survived. 

your thumb traces down the lines, making him shiver at the fragileness behind the touch.

“where’d you get this?” you murmur, staring at him curiously. 

“hmm? oh the scar on my body? it's from a gash i got while battling a gigantic undersea monster that tried to take over the fortress of meropide…” he stares at you cheekily as you blink, looking at him unimpressed. “hah, just kidding.”

“do you ever take anything seriously?” you shake your head and huff, but there’s endearment on your face as you fight back a smile.

“on the contrary, milady,” he murmurs, grabbing your hips and pulling you back slightly, exposing your drenched cunt before he slowly sinks two fingers into your folds and curls them against the back of your walls, “i take this quite seriously.”

you gasp at the feeling, his digits rubbing against your walls and angling to hit a sensitive, achingly sweet spot at the back of your cunt. it’s precise, the way he pumps his fingers into you, slowly sinking in a third digit while you mewl and throw your head back. the heel of his palm catches against your clit, the sweet friction building your orgasm up slowly, slowly, until suddenly, you’re near the edge all at once. 

“c’mon, don’t hold back now,” he drawls, voice low and sweet and so attractive, you feel like the sound of him alone is enough to send you tumbling over the edge, “why don’t you be a sweet little thing and let go for me, hm?”

you do—instantly, you do, crying out his name is choked garbles as he works you through your orgasm with his fingers, still thrusting into you with a precise pace. finally, when you’re done clenching around him, he pulls his digits out, the slickness of your pussy coating them as he hums in satisfaction. 

“think you’re ready?” he asks softly, cradling the back of your head with his good hand as he pulls you closer, “or do you need one more from me?”

“i’m ready,” you huff impatiently, “i need you, need to feel you already.”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, amused but not anymore patient himself as his cock pulses between his legs, “i’m not trying to wait any longer, either. do you have a…uh…y-you know…”

you snort at the way he trails off awkwardly, flushing at the thought of asking for a condom as if he’s not completely nude under you. “no,” you giggle, pinching his cheek as he huffs, “but we don’t need one. it’s fine.”

“okay,” he nods slowly. his hands grab at your hips, firm yet so gentle with the way they lift you up and guide you to angle over his swollen cock, slowly helping you sink down on him as he chokes on a grunt when his head pushes past your folds. 

you gasp as soon as he intrudes into your tight hole, splitting you open on his thick girth as you take him inch by inch until you’re sat on his lap completely, buried completely with his length as his jaw clenches at the tight squeeze of you around him. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob brokenly, unable to say anything else besides cracked repeats of his name. he’s so big, buried so deep, and leaving you so full, you’re not sure if you have it in you to fuck onto him from this position. 

he takes things into his own hands, though—roughly grabbing your hips and pulling you back before helping you sink back down on him again, rolling his own hips upward to bury deeper into you. your head spins, and all you can think to do is weakly plant your hands onto his shoulders before you roll your hips, grinding down on his length and sloppily fucking yourself onto him.

he bullies past your folds, curves deliciously into the most intimate parts of you, fat tip slamming against the soft, sensitive spot that makes you see white. pleasure burns up your spine, building a coil in your belly that grows tighter, tighter, tighter—so close yet so far from snapping and letting you plummet into your second release. 

“that’s it,” he grunts, “fuck—you’re so tight, so good. i’ve…i’ve never felt anything so good. it’s like you were made for me, weren’t you? take me so well, fit around me so well.”

his hand moves to your clit, thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbing merciless circles against it as you mewl, head burying into his neck as your nails claw at his shoulder. everything is so good—so hot and filthy and leaves you impatiently desperate for some form of release. the friction of his cock dragging along every ridge leaves your mind hazed, and the harsh press of his tip against your sweet spot leaves your vision blurry. 

you’re not sure how you even have the strength to rock yourself onto his stiff length, but somehow you manage, and he seems keen on helping you, too, with rough, bruising hands that grip your waist with a punishingly tight grasp.

“c-can’t hold on much longer,” you cry, voice a strangled sob that’s muffled into his skin, “i’m s-so close. please.”

“me too,” he pants, voice just as strained as yours as he moans through a cracked voice when you clench down on his particularly tightly, “me too, sweetheart. i’m right there with you, alright? let go—c-c’mon.”

once more, you cum around him—this time on his cock instead of his fingers, and if the first time felt good, the second time is devastating. your vision practically goes white as your walls spasm around him, slick and dripping with your release and mixing with his own as he follows you not long after. his cock jolts, pumping hot, sticky ropes of his seed deep into you, and both of your bodies are slumped against one another as you barely roll your hips, sloppy pace with no rhythm as you focus on getting yourselves through the ecstasies of your orgasms. 

his thumb is still pressing against your clit, and your hands have left his shoulders to bury into his sweaty hair, tugging fiercely at the dark strands and making him groan at the mix of pain and pleasure. 

finally, you both ride out the final few waves, him slumping against your bed as you fall against his sturdy chest, face still buried into his neck. sweat clings to your skin, but you don’t mind the feeling of his damp skin against yours, not when the warmth of your body makes the afterglow feel so sweet. your fingers thread through his hair, soothing over his scalp with the rake of your nails where you’d just tugged so harshly, and his palms glide up and down your hips, rubbing gentleness back into the parts where he dug bruises along the skin. 

“wait, is that watering can supposed to be a dog?” he asks out of the blue, making you lift your head and look over your shoulder.

“yes,” you quirk a brow, watching as he lets out a small snort as he looks at the watering can by your plants in wonder.

“it’s pretty ugly.”

“rude!” you gasp, pulling away slightly as he shakes under you in laughter, “i think it’s adorable!”

“do you now?” he bites his lips, attempting to suppress the smile that threatens to take over, “you have…interesting taste.”

“oh, you’re dead to me,” you spit dramatically, collapsing back against his chest as you bury your head into his neck again. “dead to me, i say.”

“my apologies,” he snickers. his hand rubs slowly into your hip, quietly humming for a moment before he asks, “what made you so passionate about plants?”

“i can’t just really like them?” you challenge.

“sure,” he shrugs, eyeing the watering can again as he smiles, “but you don’t give the impression that you just happen to just really like leaves, and that’s it.”

“there’s more to plants than leaves,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. and then, much gentler this time, “my father was a scholar from sumeru. an herbologist.” your voice is a quiet murmur, a low hum as you speak into his neck while his hands are still rubbing into your hips, “i used to be fascinated by his journals and all the plants he’d seen. he died when i was young, so sometimes…sometimes i try to grow them here in fontaine myself. just to feel close to him.”

“do you?” he asks quietly, staring at the various plants that decorate your small home. it’s cozy, he thinks, so lively and warm that it almost doesn’t feel like you’re the only inhabitant. “do you feel close to him when you do?”

“if it works,” you admit, “it’s not always easy to recreate the same conditions they’re meant to grow in.”

“i think you do an impressive job,” he praises, earning a slow smile from you that he can feel curve into his skin, “i’ve yet to come across a flower shop in fontaine with as much variety as yours.”

“you flatter me, your grace,” you chuckle, pulling away as you stare at him, the tousled hair from where his hand ran through, the swollen bottom lip where his teeth sank in, the flushed skin where heat settled. you take all of it in slowly, admiring him as he looks up at you through lidded eyes.

“do i? i meant it seriously, not in flattery,” he raises a brow and smirks, “if i wanted to try flattery on you, i think i’d have some other choice words.”

“don’t be so insatiable,” you gently swat at his chest, earning a chuckle from him. “will you be able to stop by tomorrow?”

“i’m afraid not,” he sighs, “i have a meeting with some people from the palais tomorrow at the fortress. it’ll run a bit late.”

“oh,” you try to hide the disappointment in your voice, but he seems to sense it instantly. “that’s okay. i just had a blend i thought you might like to try—for tea, that is. it’s um…i dried the petals myself, and it’s new. i thought i’d let you be the first to try it to let me know what you think.”

you try not to giggle at the way he perks up at the mention of tea.

“ah, i’m afraid i won’t have time tomorrow. but…” he coughs, trailing off as he looks away, contemplating his words.

“but…?” you press.

“but…well, i have a few guards returning tomorrow from the surface from a few tasks i gave them. i could have them stop by the shop to escort you down to the fortress if that works for you…it’s okay if you can’t, though! i can always come by sometime this week when my duties aren’t as—”

“that sounds nice,” you cut him off, grinning widely, something close to excitement blooming across your features, brighter than any set of petals in your shop, he thinks. “you can give me an official tour of the fortress, perhaps. i’ve only ever heard about it through stories.”

“as you wish, my lady,” he winks.

he leaves not too long after—you try not to focus on his lingering scent in your sheets once you settle back in after bidding him goodbye. it’s oddly peaceful, being surrounded by him even when he’s not there, and sleep lulls over you quicker than usual. 

the scent is faded by the time you wake up, so you take one last deep breath to inhale it before you set off to get ready for the day, counting down the hours before you get to see him again.

——————————

as promised, a group of fortress guards stop by your shop, politely waiting for you to close up before you join them on their return. 

the fortress is darker than you expected—but not at all as small as your mind anticipated. in fact, it’s huge. you follow the guards, making idle chatter as they take you up an elevator, up, and up, and up—until finally, you finally arrive on the floor of his office. 

you’re so busy taking in all you can of the fortress that by the time they escort you to his office door, you remember why you’re here in the first place. to bring wriothesley dried petals of sweet flowers that you grew yourself—flowers often make for a wonderful tea blend, and learning his passionate liking for the drink makes you feel compelled to share with him every one of the various floral teas you’ve learned about in your time as a florist. 

you knock on the door of his office—except, oddly enough, there’s more than one voice you can make out from the room. you didn’t think his meeting would still be in session by the time you arrived, making you anxiously regret the knock as soon as your knuckles leave the surface of the door.  

but he answers before you can think too much of it. “come in,” his voice calls. 

“your grace,” you hum, stepping in, “if this is a bad time, then i can…”

you trail off. both fontaine’s chief justice and champion duelist stand in his office, gathered around his desk as he sits and sifts through files. of course, wriothesley is a duke, which is no small title by any means, but you’re caught more than a little off guard as you step in and share the room with two of fontaine’s more important figures in the justice system.

“no,” he says casually, “come in, you’re right on time. i was just telling miss clorinde about the delicious tea blend you would bring for her to try. she couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

“if you want to try it so badly, just say so,” she rolls her eyes.

“fine,” he huffs, lips curling into a slight pout, “i’d like to try the tea you promised me. clorinde will pass, though.”

“i think i’ll try it, as well,” she chimes in, suppressing a smile as wriothesley crosses his arms.

“but you just said—”

you giggle, walking over as you hand him the bag with dried petals, grinning at the amusing dynamic, and murmur, “i believe it would be the polite thing to do if you made an extra cup for the madam while making yours.”

“picking her side, are we? such an act of betrayal won’t be forgotten,” he huffs. still, almost as excited as a child opening a present, he opens the bag to add the petals to the tea maker he keeps at his desk. you watch with fondness at the action. “you still owe me a present, by the way. and tea won’t do—i’ve just received a batch.”

“then i suppose i can gift you a new tie,” clorinde hums, eyeing the loosened tie around his neck and making him furrow his brows as he subconsciously straightens it, “something that fits your neck better so you look a bit more put together.”

it’s almost like she sees through the both of you, eyeing between you and him with a hint of a knowing glint in her eyes. wriothesley scowls, giving her a petulant glare.

“there’s nothing wrong with my tie. i look just fine.”

“i do believe it’s a stylistic choice,” neuvillette pipes up from the side, “it doesn’t seem to be an issue with the tie itself.”

you snort at the way the joke flies over his head. “you’re right, monsieur,” you join in the banter, “i do believe his grace has a rather…unique choice of style.”

“i wonder if he ever plans to properly wear the coat he always seems to keep hanging over his shoulders,” clorinde adds, the earlier grin she attempted to fight back now fully curled into her lips. you laugh, much to wriothesley’s dismay.

“perhaps he just values being prepared,” you hum, “one can never tell when the fortress will suddenly be too cold. someone as busy as the duke surely can’t afford the wasted time to go and fetch a coat.”

“ah,” she nods, “i suppose you’re right. he is too busy learning legal codes as of late.”

“i take it that my gift has been useful, then?” neuvillette brightens, turning to a miserable wriothesley as he rubs his temples wearily.

“most helpful,” he sighs, not bothering to explain to the iudex that he’s once more missed the point of the joke. 

“oh, we’re only joking,” you laugh, taking the tea cup sitting at his desk and pouring him a glass of the now freshly brewed tea, “it’s all in good fun, your grace.”

“wriothesley is just fine,” he mumbles, “as you can see, this isn’t a very…formal meeting.” 

he watches as you carefully make his cup, one sugar cube as opposed to his usual two—before he can point it out, however, you beat him to it. “i know you’re particular about your tea. i can see it on your face you’re about to insist i give you two, but this is a very sweet blend as it is. one will suffice.”

“careful when it comes to his tea,” clorinde warns, “he’ll be in a foul mood all day if it doesn’t live up to his standards.”

“not true,” he grumbles. as if to prove a point, he takes a sip, slowly blinking before he looks at you with an awed grin, “it’s lovely. you’re right, it is just perfectly sweet with one cube.”

“perhaps you’re the only person he won’t make a fuss with then,” clorinde teases, “he’s got quite the list of grievances if i make him a cup of tea.”

“that’s because you don’t know how to make proper tea,” wriothesley rolls his eyes, “there’s a set of steps you’re meant to follow, you know.”

“water is a most simple beverage,” the iudex cuts in, “one that has many complexities in flavor, as well. perhaps you should consider it as a fitting option if tea gives you too much trouble.”

“i would hate to think of the wrath the poor inmates would have to face if he were to miss a single tea time,” you grin, fighting back a chuckle as wriothesley takes a tired sip from his cup, resigning himself to his fate as the target of your banter, “water simply won’t do.”

“well, i believe we should be off,” clorinde looks at neuvillette, “perhaps we should leave them to themselves.”

“ah, yes,” the chief justice nods politely, “there are many more files for me to read through at the office.”

“do you ever take the day off?” wriothesley raises a brow, “wouldn’t hurt.”

“even his dreams are of legal cases, i’m sure. he wouldn’t last a day on vacation,” clorinde hums.

“i don’t typically dream when i sleep,” neuvillette frowns, still so serious that you choke on a snort as you try to hold back you giggles. wriothesley looks at you with an amused grin, biting his lip to hide a chuckle himself.

“i’ll be seeing you,” he waves as the two leave, “and hopefully with my present ready next time,” he calls to clorinde with a pointed look. she rolls her eyes, fondly waving as she heads out the door.

“i didn’t know you were friends with such important people,” you murmur as they leave, making him raise a brow as he takes another sip.

“friends isn’t the best title for it—consider us work acquaintances.”

“with banter like that, i hardly believe it,” you chuckle, earning you a half-hearted glare from him over the rim of his tea cup.

“did you have your fun at my expense?” he asks dryly—but there’s no real bite to the words, “it seems you got along quite well with clorinde.”

“monsieur neuvillette is lovely too,” you giggle, “even if he’s not exactly…the earliest to catch onto jokes.”

he laughs at that, setting down his empty cup as he stands, eyeing the door to his office quickly before stepping closer to you, eyes staring down at your lips as you chew on the bottom and wait for him to make his move. 

“thank you for the tea,” he murmurs lowly, lips just barely a millimeter away from yours, “it was quite sweet. i enjoyed it.”

“there are plenty of other floral blends i have for you to try,” you hum. 

he grins, hands finding your waist before he whispers, “surely i couldn’t take all that from you without offering something in return, could i? i wouldn’t want it to seem like i'm taking bribes.”

“oh?” you breathe, grabbing a hold of his tie and tugging him closer until your lips meet his in a slow, heated kiss. it awakens a sick, insatiable heat in your core almost instantly. “what did you have in mind, your grace?”

he groans at the way your voice teasingly lilts at the title, hungrily chasing after your lips again. it’s more tongue than it is anything, messy and almost too scandalous to take place in his office where anyone could knock and come in at a moment’s notice. he seems to know it, too, because slowly, he guides you backward, slow steps that don’t interrupt the lock of your lips until your back meets a door.

“why don’t i show you,” he breathes—and then the doorknob is twisted open, and you’re gently pushed in with an arm curled around your waist to guide you. there’s a bedroom connected to his office, you realize. 

not entirely a shock—you’re sure the duke of the fortress has his own quarters to sleep in away from the other inmates, but it doesn’t surprise you less enough that you don’t pull away to take a glance around. 

it’s empty, mainly. not too many things besides a few scattered files and another tea maker with a few cups surrounding it at a desk in the corner. the sheets are dark grey, plain, and neatly made, with two pillows and nothing else. it has no more than what he needs, no more than what’s necessary. no hints of anything that’s his, anything that makes the room belong to him outside of being a mere sleeping quarters. 

“not one for decor?” you hum, wrapping your arms around his neck as your fingers fiddle with the collar of his shirt.

“i only come here at night to sleep,” he shrugs, “never felt the need.”

“everyone needs a space that’s theirs, don’t you think? even a few flowers would brighten the place up.”

“offering me more business?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes, “and they’d die. there isn’t much sun down here.”

“i can think of a few options that would thrive,” you murmur.

“so it is business,” he quips. sigh exasperatedly, and he grins cheekily at you before you’re gently pushed to fall onto his bed, his body moving to hover over you as your legs wrap around his waist. his cock is semi-hard through his pants, and you wiggle your hips to press against it, the friction making him groan as you feel him stiffen even more from your actions. 

“i think i’d like my payment now,” you hum, making him raise a brow.

“eager?” he asks, making your hand travel to squeeze at his bulge.

“and you aren’t?” you challenge.

“fuck,” he grunts, shuddering at the feeling, “looks like you got me.”

it happens faster than you can process—the shedding of clothes, the way his fingers slowly sink into you, pumping in and out expertly as your head spins from the way he brushes against your sensitive spots. he’s quick, the way he stretches you apart with his digits, adding a second and third finger with little to no time to waste. you hardly have time to accommodate the third when you feel a familiar ache building up steadily. 

“c-close,” you say shakily, voice brokenly whispering against his mouth as he drinks up your moans, “i’m going to—”

“i know,” he hums, “shh. just let go—you’re doing so well.” 

the praise shatters you—you break at the way he sounds so in awe of you, of the way you suck his fingers into your slick cunt, so tight and wet with every clench. your back arches, and your hips roll into his hand, whimpering as his palm rolls over your sensitive clit. “god,” you gasp, “wriothesley, please.”

“please what?” he drawls, “you already got what you needed.”

“please let me feel you.”

“such a demanding price for some tea,” he sighs, “alright. i guess i can afford it.”

the nudge of his cock against your folds is enough to make you mewl, a sweet, whiny little cry that he groans at—every sound you make leaves an ache shooting up his stiff cock in the form of a twitch, like your every cry calls out to him. he responds with a rough thrust of his hips, burying himself into the depths of you, so deep and so close you can practically feel his pulse alongside yours. 

“so full,” you gasp, panting as you try to adjust to the sheer girth of him. he waits a moment, jaw clenched and teeth grit as he waits for you to nod your head and signal him to move.

“and you’re so tight,” he grunts, moaning softly against your ear as he nibbles on your earlobe, “i wouldn’t mind it if you charged interest either, just so you know. i’ll pay it over as many times as you want.”

“oh be quiet, would you?” you roll your eyes at his words at first, but then they roll back at the feeling of his thick, swollen tip pressing against the deep, sweet spot in the back of your walls. he lets out a breathy laugh, kissing the corner of your mouth so he doesn’t muffle the precious little moan you let out. 

“sure thing,” he hums, “i like listening to you more, anyway.”

“oh,” you gasp, “oh—wriothesley!” his finger teases over your clit, making your walls quiver around him as you feel your second orgasm creep up on you. “w-wait—i’m close.”

“why would i wait?” he asks in amusement, “that’s the idea.”

“t-together,” you whimper, pouting up at him through swollen lips and watery eyes, “please. please.”

he curses, closing his eyes and inhaling shakily at the way you look so fucked out, so drunkenly hazed on pleasure from the drag of his cock along your every ridge. you ask so sweetly—and who is he to deny such an innocent request?

“fuck—okay, sweetheart. fine by me,” he pants, rolling his hips harshly as he works himself to his own orgasm. his thumb teases your clit cruelly, fast and merciless one second, and a slow, bare feather’s touch the next. it keeps you right on the edge, a drooling mess of broken pleas as he finally approaches his own high. “close?”

“so close,” you gasp, twitching as he buries himself deep into you again.

“me too,” his voice cracks, “c-cum with me—please.”

hearing him plead sends you over the edge again—your first orgasm pales in comparison to your second. you didn’t even think that was possible, but the thick of his cock bullying into you is infinitely better than his nimble digits. the blunt head hits all the right spots, curves in all the right angles, and fucks you through your high expertly without even trying. 

you both cry out each other's names like prayers, muffled strings of curses, and breathy gasps that you swallow up between slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. finally, when the last few twitches of his cock finish painting his release into you, he slumps on the bed beside your body, body shaking in slight tremors as he catches his breath. 

“you okay?” he asks through a labored voice, “didn’t hurt you?”

“i’m okay,” you breathe, smiling softly. he closes his eyes, relaxing into the mattress, pulling the covers to tuck the both of you in before he stares up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head while he seems to be deep in thought. “what’re you thinking about?” you murmur.

“just how good you got along with clorinde,” he hums quietly, almost in wonder. “she’s not exactly the easiest to banter with so quickly.”

“well, i guess it’s not too hard if it’s at your expense,” you tease.

“ah, yes,” he sighs, pretending to woefully shake his head, “i’ve been reduced to the butt of the joke one too many times today, it seems.”

he grins to himself at the sound of your quiet laughter, so soft and sweet, so perfectly filling up the quietness in the room, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his ears like a symphony. you stare up at the ceiling yourself, eyeing the pipes, the dark amber metal that makes up his home. it’s quiet like that for a bit—not awkward or uneasy, almost like you’ve known him for ages. almost like this is natural.

“can i ask you something?” you murmur after some time, shifting under the covers to face him. 

he raises a brow, looking at you curiously. “you’re scaring me with that look. going to confess some wicked crime you want me to help you hide?”

“it’s not like that,” you huff, rolling your eyes. carefully, as if treading unknown territories (you are, in all fairness), your fingers find his bicep, running along the skin soothingly. it’s an affectionate touch—you and wriothesley only touch each other for physical pleasure, nothing more. this is new, something you’re freshly navigating with a weak compass that points back and forth between your heart and your head, unsure whether to follow logic or emotion. 

“well, go ahead and ask,” he insists, “you’ve got me curious, anyway.”

“what…what did you serve for? when you were an inmate,” you say quietly. he tenses under your touch, muscles becoming rigid as you instantly regret the question. your fingers pull away at the same time as you start speaking, “it’s okay if you don’t want to answer! i just got curious and—”

his hand catches your retreating wrist, gently pulling it closer, closer, until your hand rests on his chest. this is definitely uncharted territory—but his hand firmly lays over yours as he presses your palm over his bare chest. 

“it’s fine,” he mumbles, “it’s not exactly something people in my inner circle don’t know.”

“oh,” you whisper, “i’ve been promoted to inner circle, huh?”

“you’ve seen me naked,” he snorts, eyeing you with a hint of amused disbelief, “you’ve sucked me off, in fact. i think there’s a special other circle inside the circle just for you.”

“okay, no need to get all…”

“all what?” he teases, waiting for you to finish.

“all uncouth about our activities!” you huff, face feeling hot as he grins.

he laughs, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you against his side so your cheek presses against a muscled pec as his warm hand traces circles into your hip. you gasp slightly at the sudden gesture but relax all too quickly, your own hand moving to rub into his chest slowly, feeling the rough scars and tracing them with your fingertips.

“i was adopted when i was young from an orphanage. when i was a bit older,” he swallows, voice quiet, serious—so oddly vulnerable, you think you’re talking to a new version of him altogether, “i found a diary in my mother’s drawer. i didn’t…i didn’t mean to snoop. i was just looking for some paper for my sister to color with.”

“you had a sister?” you ask softly, looking up to see his jaw tighten slightly. 

“i had quite a few siblings,” he admits, voice strained. “older and younger. my parents would adopt a few children at a time and raise them until they were old enough to be adopted into families of greater means. and then they’d adopt more younger children. i thought they were perfect parents,” his eyes stare off distantly, unfocused as they look up at the ceiling, hand mindlessly wandering along your hip as you listen.

“until…?”

“until i read that diary,” his voice hardens, still strained as he clenches his jaw and swallows thickly again, “they were records. of my older siblings, the ones i thought were adopted off. all of their names were followed by prices, and the ones who didn’t have prices had been crossed off. i didn’t understand until i saw my own name and my brother antoine’s. we had blank spaces next to ours.”

“how come?” you furrow your brows, looking at him in jarred curiosity. 

“because we weren’t sold yet,” he smiles ruefully, “i realized we were being sold off like livestock. and i started to piece together why i had never heard from any of my siblings even when they’d promised to write. i…i never knew what became of them.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you say gently, so delicate, he closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. you press a soft kiss to his chest under you, hand moving up to cup his cheek, “what awful people.”

“i…i should have kept it to myself,” he whispers shakily, “i didn’t…i couldn’t figure out what to do, so i told antoine—i thought…i figured maybe…” he trails off, eyes closed once more as he breathes heavily, trying to collect the composure he fights so fiercely to keep.

“it’s okay,” you kiss his jaw, “we can forget about it. i’m sorry for—”

“no,” he shakes his head. “i want you to know.”

it should make you feel special—maybe even a little happy that he trusts you enough to want to share. but nothing about this makes you feel anything but pain—you can feel his pain, every inch of it. from the way his hand clasps around your waist in a shaky grip to ground himself to the way his jaw is tight under your lips as they press a soothing kiss to the angle of it. every part of him is in pain, and you can feel it. deep in your own bones, like a lingering ache. one that runs years deep, living in the deepest, most intimate parts of your body.

you don’t mind it, though. you don’t mind sharing his pain, not if it’s him.

“okay,” you nod slowly, “okay.”

he inhales sharply, taking a deep breath before he continues. “i told him because i knew we were next. i thought maybe we could have figured out a plan together. but he asked my mother about the diary, what the prices meant, and why we’d never heard from the others once they’d left. he was gone the next morning—my mother told us he was adopted, but i knew. i knew he was merely disposed of. and it was my fault.”

“it was not your fault,” you turn your head swiftly, looking up at him in disbelief as he scoffs and shakes his head.

“if i hadn’t told him, if i handled it on my own—”

“then what? he would have been fine? you don’t know that, what if he was sold off for something awful? or found out on his own without you? you were a child, and you didn’t know that he’d choose to do that.”

“but i still could have kept quiet,” he chuckles dryly, voice cracking as he adds, “i could have gotten us both out of there. on my own.”

“you shouldn’t have to have done it on your own,” you cup his cheek, bringing him to face you as your forehead presses against his, “you didn’t want to be on your own, did you?”

“no,” he admits, lips trembling, “i didn’t.”

“and that’s okay,” you murmur, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone, “you didn’t deserve to be alone.”

“maybe it was for the better, though,” he sniffles.

“a lot of things are. we can’t hope to predict everything for what would turn out better.”

“he died,” wriothesley chokes, “my brother. he died that night—i…i knew he did. so i ran the next day, when my parents were busy, i snuck off and ran. i didn’t come back until a few years later and i…” his breath catches in his throat, glancing at you for a moment. there’s something fleeting in his eyes. doubt, maybe—perhaps even fear.

you’re not entirely sure, but you press a kiss to his lips, soft and tender, so unlike your usual heated ones. something that’s shared not for the sake of pleasure but for the sake of knowing you’re there—that he has you. you’re both here, together, just the two of you. he can feel your warmth, and you can feel his. 

it eases the tension somewhat, making his rigid muscles relax as he pulls you closer. 

you pull away first, murmuring a soft, “i don’t care what you did. whatever it is.”

“you say that now,” he chuckles weakly, “but you don’t even know what i did.”

“i don’t care,” you say seriously, “i don’t. whatever you did, it was because you didn’t have a choice.”

“i killed them,” he says against your mouth, such harsh, dark words that don’t belong against your soft, pure lips—he thinks he might have just tainted them. almost like you know his thoughts, you prove you don’t care when you peck his mouth lightly. “i killed them and set the other children free.”

“you were just a kid,” you breathe, “a baby.”

“a teenager,” he huffs a laugh hoarsely, “maybe not that young.”

“a baby to me,” you say firmly, “no one that young should be pushed to such extreme methods.”

“you’re oddly calm about sharing a bed with a murderer. was the sex that good?”

you roll over, laying on top of him, pulling a soft oof from his lips—you know it’s exaggerated. he’s strong and broad under you, capable of taking your weight and then some as his hands find your waist to keep you in place, eyes boring into yours. so bare and so easy for you to look into, to read, to see so plainly for all he is. 

he doesn’t even blink—as if he’s offering himself to you, trusting you to see as much as you want, see as much of him as he can show you. 

“is that all you see yourself as? a murderer?” you ask seriously.

“of course not,” he denies, breathing softly into your hands as they cradle his face, “but it’s the part of me that matters most. that defines me the most. whether i want it to or not.”

“not to me,” you shake your head, “and not to you either, i can tell.”

“i know why i did it,” he tells you, staring at you so intensely, you feel like maybe he’s seeing you more than you’re seeing him, “i did it for my siblings. because i knew it was the only way to get them out. no one else would do a thing. but when you strip my title as duke from me, whether you put me in the underworld or put me in the overworld, i am a murderer. that won’t change.”

“and?” you raise a brow, “do you regret it? what you did?”

“never,” he says instantly. he means it. “but i’m aware of what i am to others. what they see me as. i’m not naive enough to believe my past will go away.”

“and it shouldn’t,” you shake your head, “i don’t think it should. i don’t think murder is what matters most about you—i think a child raised like livestock, betrayed, and taken advantage of, matters most. a boy who willingly gave up his freedom so his siblings would have theirs is what matters most. a man who served his time and chose to stay so he could make things better for everyone who followed is what matters. death was a kind fate for your parents, wriothesley—i for one, believe there were more fitting fates for them. far crueler ones than a peaceful demise.”

he chuckles at that last part, staring at you in wonder, in slight amusement, in so much awe that you almost feel shy.

“now i’m really questioning if the sex was that good—you’re really rationalizing my crimes, aren’t you?”

“oh, you’re such an asshole, do you know that?” you huff, “i think that’s what defines you best. a complete, utter, shameless assho—oh.”

he kisses you—abruptly so. his lips are pressed hard and firm against you, kissing with so much conviction, so much need, you’d think that you were disintegrating in his arms, that this was his last opportunity to kiss you and commit how you feel to memory. 

“you sure it’s not my stamina?” he wiggles his brows, “how about my—”

“i’ll see to it that this is the last time we ever engage in such activities if that’s all you can focus on—”

“okay, okay,” he laughs, pouting as he pulls you down to lay on him, your head tucking under his chin as he kisses the crown of your head, “enough sex jokes. i promise.”

“so crass,” you scold, “have some decorum, will you?”

“my apologies, milady,” he sighs regretfully, voice exaggerated and theatrical as he adds, “i won’t allow myself to forget my manners again. from here on out, i’ll make sure to discuss more…gentlemanly topics for your liking.”

“you’re a real handful,” you sigh, “poor sigewinne. such a sweet little angel to put up with the likes of you.”

“you met her?” he smiles fondly at the mention of her.

“briefly, yes,” you nod, “the poor thing must be tired of your antics.”

“i’m on my best behavior around her!” he insists, “you can ask her.”

“i don’t think she’ll vouch for you, you know.”

“yeah, you’re probably right,” he withers in defeat.

you giggle, kissing his collarbone softly before nuzzling against him as he relaxes. it’s comfortably silent, just your body against his, warmth seeping between the space that hardly separates your bodies, spreading across your skin. you share your heat, and he shares his. it lulls you, slowly but surely, and you can feel it lull him, too as his breath slowly evens out under you. 

sleep is just a breath away from clutching you when you mumble, “wriothesley?”

“hmm?” comes his sleepy hum.

“thank you,” you whisper, yawning, “for trusting me. enough to tell me.”

“go to sleep,” he grunts tiredly, “you can be sappy and sentimental in the morning.”

“okay,” you grin tiredly, pressing closer into him, “i’ll hold you to it.”

sleep comes quickly after that—so easy, so natural in his arms, you wonder how you’ve rested all these years without him. 

——————————

your routine to meet with wriothesley ebbs and flows between the surface and the fortress. sometimes, he stops by just like before, and sometimes, he sends for guards to fetch you when he’s too busy to make an appearance himself. your meetings more or less end the same—catching your breath together, bare bodies huddled together in a tired mess as you share quiet, whispered words into each other’s skin. it’s a routine that both of you are too used to by now, that even a short gap of not seeing each other makes the both of you impatient for the next time you’ll get to see each other. 

on days you can’t afford to see each other, your days at the shop drag by slower when all you can do is think about him. sometimes, the guards will be relieved to come to escort you, woefully expressing the awful mood the duke has been in, shuddering as they recall how unpleasant he is to be around when he’s unhappy. they seem to insist your visits are what help end his supposed awful temperament—your instinct is always to flush and insist they must be mistaken.

but it’s an intimate sort of development—the way the two of you slowly learn to depend on each other for comfort. you on long days at the shop, him after tiresome affairs with the fortress. every delicate touch and every saccharine word you exchange slowly peels away the harsh layers of the week, leaving you raw and bare to each other. 

it’s nice. something you’ve grown a bit dependent on, in fact. a part of you would like to be scared, but wriothesley doesn’t let you fear anything—it’s just the kind of guy he is. everything about him feels too safe for you to consider being scared. 

you miss him terribly, too. you haven’t gotten a chance to see him in over a week—it’s the first week of spring, the blooming season for a number of flowers. you have shipments from across the continent—cecilias from mondstadt, silk jades from liyue, sakura blossoms from inazuma, and padisarahs from sumeru. there are plenty more—too many for you to list off the top of your head, but those are the ones you’re sure will sell out the quickest. 

there’s a certain man who stops by every day, a mop of ginger on his head and an interesting aura about him as he asks you if you’ve received kalpalata lotuses yet—they’re for my sister, he tells you, i bring them home for her every time i visit sumeru. but i won’t have a chance for quite a while.

you learn he’s a harbinger, the eleventh in rank, and hardly one to step foot in his homeland for too long at a time. but he’s due back, he tells you, for a project that won’t allow him to leave for quite some time. mingling with a fatui operative is hardly on your list of possibilities for the week, but you realize even a harbinger can appreciate the beauty of flowers. so you promise him your batch's biggest blooms as soon as they are delivered. 

and he’s patient, coming every day in hopes that they’ve been delivered, helping you organize the deliveries you do get, going as far as to join you to loch urania amidst a terrible storm to assist in picking lakelight lilies when you’re low. you appreciate the small companionship you’ve formed with him—childe, as he’s called, he tells you. a code name for his place as a harbinger that you relish in being given the knowledge of.  

the day finally comes when the lotuses are delivered, and for all his help and kindness, you try to repay him with a free bouquet. 

he declines persistently. “no, no miss,” he chuckles, waving his hands in dismissal as you offer the beautifully bundled flowers, “i couldn’t possibly accept them free of charge.”

“oh, don’t be silly,” you huff, “you’ve done plenty for me. an extra set of hands in the shop is as rare as glaze lilies blooming in midwinter!”

“i was happy to help,” he chirps, “i had a good time occupying myself as i waited to depart fontaine.”

“and archons know when the next time you’ll return is,” you sigh, “which is why you should accept these as a parting gift.”

“a parting gift, huh?” your eyes widen at the familiar voice—wriothesley. it’s been almost two weeks since you’ve heard it, and you beam as you look over at his approaching figure.

“wriothesley!” you hum, “what are you doing here?”

“thought i’d come to pay a visit,” he says gruffly, eyeing childe, who grins tightly at the warden. “i wasn’t banking on seeing an ex-inmate, though. what a shocking surprise.”

“the fortress’s duke in broad daylight,” childe coos, “what a fascinating sight.”

it’s tense—you can feel the atmosphere shift all too quickly as the two men stare each other down. 

“i didn’t know childe was a prisoner at the fortress,” you murmur, making the warden scoff as he glares at the harbinger.

“well,” childe shrugs, eyes sharp as they gaze at wriothesley, “i like to consider myself wrongly sentenced. justice isn’t always fair in the courts of fontaine, it seems.”

“ah, is that why you escaped from your sentence early?”

“i believe my escape proved to be quite helpful in saving the people of this nation in the end, didn’t it?” he asks, voice low, almost predatory, as wriothesley grits his jaw, glancing back at you before crossing his arms. 

“is the fatui boy giving you trouble?” he asks, making you shake your head frantically as the harbinger lets out a dry chuckle from the side. 

“oh, no!” you insist, “no, childe has been quite helpful, i promise. he’s given quite a hand, in fact!”

“is that so?” wriothesley perches a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he glares to the side at the smug ginger. 

“oh, absolutely,” childe nods, “you see, i’ve been offering the lovely lady my assistance as i waited on my delivery. we even visited loch urania together to pick lakelight lilies for a bouquet she needed to deliver.”

“he treated me to lunch,” you beam innocently. you might have missed the way wriothesley’s jaw tightens, but childe certainly doesn’t, making his grin spread even wider. “he’s nice, wriothesley, i promise. i hope you both can sort out whatever differences you had during his previous sentence.”

“perhaps next time, you could join us for lunch,” childe drawls, “it’ll be on me.”

“a kind offer,” the duke chuckles dryly, a rueful grin on his tight lips as he adds, “but i’ll have to decline.”

“please, i really insist you take these lotuses,” you hold the bouquet out to the harbinger, and much to wriothesley’s dismay, there’s an evident amount of extra care put into the floral packaging. your careful handwriting in soft, looped letters spelling out his name across the paper, with a heart beside it as though you took time to thoughtfully scribble each letter just for him. “give your sister my best regards.”

“you know his sister?” wriothesley grits.

“oh no,” you chuckle, “but he tells me of her. the flowers are for her!”

“like i said,” childe hums, taking out a heavy pouch of mora and placing it on your counter—both yours and wriothesley’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of mora you’re sure is inside. it’s undoubtedly far more than a small, simple bouquet would cost, but he waves it off like it’s nothing as he says, “i insist on giving you the payment you deserve. you’ve certainly made my last few days here at fontaine interesting. it’s made up for the less than…welcoming treatment from the beginning of my trip.”

wriothesley’s eye all but twitches. 

“that’s far too much to accept for a small bunch of kalpalata lotuses, you can’t—”

“consider it a payment in advance for the next time i return to fontaine,” he winks, “i’ll be sure to visit for more of your lovely flowers. i’m sure my mother will appreciate a bouquet too.”

with that, he waves at you, walking off with a grin as you sigh and shake your head fondly, waving him off as you call, “you’re quite the handful, you know. do visit again next time you’re here!”

“oh, i wouldn’t miss the opportunity for anything.”

wriothesley scoffs at the final exchange of words, watching the retreating figure of the harbinger with hardened, distant eyes while you exhale softly and grab the pouch of mora. 

“are all harbingers this loaded with mora, do you think?”

“who knows,” he mutters, looking away as he swallows before adding, “i came to visit on my way back to the fortress. i had business with neuvillette.”

“oh,” you hum, smiling as you ask, “is he doing well?”

“fine,” is all wriothesley says.

“that’s good,” you nod, “we haven’t been able to see each other in quite a bit, huh? i’d have visited, but the deliveries all week have kept me busy.”

“good thing you had the harbinger to lend a hand, huh?” he remarks, raising a brow.

“well, yeah, i suppose so,” you frown slightly, watching as he takes a slow, deep breath before fixing his tie. “is everything okay?”

“yeah,” he says instantly. “may i walk you home?”

“of course,” you smile—it doesn’t reach your eyes, and he wishes he could find it in himself to do something to reassure the lingering worry in your irises, but he doesn’t. instead, he quietly waits for you to close the shop, so uncharacteristically silent that you can practically feel the tension in the air tangibly.

the walk to your home is just as silent. wriothesley doesn’t say anything, and you don’t have the confidence to break the silence yourself. you’ve never seen him like this, so bothered and visibly so. you’re not entirely sure what brought it on, either—but you are sure it has something to do with childe. 

you finally reach your home after a long walk, quietly standing in front of the door as you turn to him and inspect his face. hard-lined lips, distant eyes, and crossed arms. he doesn’t look like the usual wriothesley you know—the one who grins and gives you a slight bow as he says, we’ve arrived at your lovely home, milady. 

“thank you for walking me,” you murmur, looking at him carefully as he nods.

“sure,” he responds flatly, “my pleasure.”

“you didn’t have to trouble yourself if you were tired from your meeting,” you add.

“not tired,” he shakes his head. “it was no trouble to me.”

“are you sure?” you raise a brow, sighing as you cross your own arms, “you don’t seem too happy to be here.”

“what do you mean?” he shrugs lamely, avoiding your question, your gaze. you know that one look into your eyes is all it takes to make him spill, and normally, you don’t take advantage of that, but you think tonight you will. 

because you’re tired of dancing around half-truths and coded words you have to decipher. you want one straight, laid-bare conversation with him. so you reach over and tilt his jaw, making him inhale sharply at your touch as you force him to face you and look at you. 

“what is up with you? and don’t even think about saying nothing.”

“nothing is up with me,” he mumbles stubbornly.

“wriothesley,” you warn, looking at him unimpressed, “i was not born yesterday.”

“my apologies,” he says sarcastically, a rueful smile curling on those chapped lips of his, “i suppose i’m just a bit shocked i’m not the only customer you offer your affections to. i suppose that was silly of me—it must be good for business.”

“excuse me?” you recoil, staring at him in disbelief. a little hurt, too—he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, flinching slightly at the implications. “how dare you insinuate i’m a common whore?” 

“that’s not what i was trying to say at all,” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, “it came out wrong.”

“then what were you trying to say?” you demand, looking at him expectantly, hands on your hips and a raise of your brows that almost mockingly tells him, i’d love to see you work your way out of this one. 

“you never told me you and the fatui boy were so close.” 

if there’s one thing wriothesley is good at, it’s shifting things to focus on other people. so he can observe. watch closely. take note of all the little things so he can figure out what he wants to know without asking at all. all without having anything told to him right out. it’s how he works—and you won’t entertain it. 

“the fatui boy has a name,” you point out.

“his name is not actually childe,” he snorts—there’s no real amusement in the action, just as sarcastic and sardonic as everything prior. “is that what you believe?”

“if you’re not going to say the problem with your words like an adult, i’m going to go inside,” you spit, “we’re both wasting time here if we’re just going to talk in circles.”

“yes, because i’m the one who’s not admitting things,” he chuckles dryly. 

you glare at him—because enough is enough, and you’re sick of taking one step forward just to stumble ten steps back. with one swift move, your hand grips his wrist firmly and yanks, pulling him to stumble into your home as the door slams behind him. you’re tired of having bystanders walk past you and listen to your pointless discussion, and you’re tired of getting nowhere the longer you stand outside. it feels like the more you talk, the less you know. every word he says confuses you more and more.

and that’s the thing about him—he never tells you things, not since that night he first opened up. you thought you broke some newfound trust, a new ground to walk on with him that leads somewhere further than just two people who seek each other out for pleasure. you feel something for him—and you thought he did too, but it’s always something vague or another with him and you’re tired of it. tired of wondering where you stand, what he wants, how he feels. you want to know, and tonight, even if it kills you, you’ll find out.

“what is it you want me to admit wriothesley? huh?” you scowl, “tell me so i can tell you what you need to know so you’ll finally answer my question. i’m tired of the back-and-forth game with you.”

“you don’t need to admit anything to me,” he shrugs, “it’s not my business.”

“you don’t even believe that yourself,” you scoff, “even i can tell that much. is this about childe? you don’t like me mingling with the fatui? he’s just friendly, that’s all. and good business.”

“right,” he nods slowly, disbelievingly. you almost see red—how dare he hint that you’re a liar. 

“what do you think i’m doing then?” you challenge, “let’s hear it. fraternizing with the fatui? is that the accusation you’ll pull out?”

“well, if he’s helping you pick flowers and buying you lunch, then you certainly can’t be strangers,” he smiles tightly, “perhaps next time he can join us in our canoodling too if you’d like.”

“so that’s what it is?” you shake your head exasperatedly, “you’re moody because you’re jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” he narrows his eyes, “i have no reason to be.”

“i’d believe you sooner if you’d said the underwater beast really was the cause of your scars,” you scoff, pursing your lips. “why is it so hard for you to just speak your mind?”

“then let’s start with you,” he retorts, hands throwing up in the air as he takes a step closer and glares daggers at you, “why are you dancing around what your relationship with the harbinger is?”

“there is nothing between me and the harbinger! nothing at all, and i don’t appreciate you assuming things about me. i’ve only been intimate with you!”

“you don’t need to hide it,” he smiles bitterly. finally, as if the conversation has chipped away at his resolve enough that bits and pieces of his inner turmoil can show, you can see the lingering hurt in his gaze. the betrayal. the doubt and fear—all of it pools in his eyes, swimming in the many, many flecks of his eyes as you stare into them. “it’s not as though we’ve committed to anything here.”

“i’m not hiding anything,” you say firmly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”

“i’m not jealous,” he shakes his head. it feels like he’s convincing himself more than you. because more than you, admitting to himself he cares is hard. all of this is hard—you know that. the last time he dared to trust someone, to love someone, he’d lost more than he could fathom. more than he was ever ready to lose.

so you sigh, dropping your shoulders as you let the anger dissipate.

“i wouldn’t blame you if you were jealous,” you say softly, extending the olive branch with a slow, hesitant hand to his cheek. he stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away, “it would kill me, too, to think you were close to another woman. but the harbinger is a customer i’ve become friendly with and nothing more. don’t you believe me?”

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he hesitantly leans into your palm, letting your thumb brush soothing strokes along the scar under his eye.

“i was jealous,” he admits, quiet. hoarse. strained. it takes every ounce of him to admit as much to you—the progress makes you smile softly. “i…i was so jealous i couldn’t think straight. and i took it out on you. i’m sorry.”

“maybe it’s time we had a discussion,” you say softly, “about…well, us. what it is we’re doing. it’s long overdue.”

“i’ve been avoiding it,” he confesses. 

“i know,” you murmur, smiling tightly, “i know you have. that’s why i didn’t bring it up. but we can’t dance around it forever.”

“i’m no good at this,” he opens his eyes, defeated and so lost, you can’t help but lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

“you’re not so bad,” you hum, “give yourself a little more credit.”

“no,” he shakes his head, “you don’t understand. i’ve never been good at this…at trusting people and getting close to them. i don’t even have real friends—i see clorinde and neuvillette every few months, and briefly at that. one of them was the judge at my trial, and the other knows as much about me as the files say. i don’t like talking about my feelings, and i hate sharing things about myself. i’m not jealous of childe because he threatens me—even i know you’d never give a fatui member a chance. but i’m no good for a stroll in the park, or picking flowers, or lunch at a cafe. i live underwater in a large prison that i run, and i rarely come up—at least, not often enough to be a healthy, functioning member of society, that is.”

“so what?” you frown, “i don’t care. nothing is easy at first—isn’t that why we try? who says you have to share all your feelings immediately? we can work up to that slowly. this was sharing, wasn’t it? what you just did? that’s a step in the right direction.”

“and look how much we had to battle for that little bit,” he lets out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh that makes your heart ache, “you’ll grow tired of me.”

“you don’t get to decide that,” you shake your head stubbornly, “i would never grow tired of you. never you.”

“i might be a duke now, but i was a murderer in the past,” he adds, a low and cheap attempt to convince you he’s not worth it. you roll your eyes at the statement.

“i’m aware,” you say blandly, “i don’t care, wriothesley. i don’t. those are all excuses—if you want this, if you really want this like i do, because you care about me just like i care about you and you feel the same way, then you’d realize these are all petty excuses your head is coming up with. i’ll wait for you to be better at communicating if you promise you’ll try. and your past is just a small stain on the cloth that we can ignore.”

“it’s murder,” he says in disbelief.

“i said what i said,” you huff. he blinks once, then twice before letting out a breathy chuckle.

“you’re insane.”

“thank you,” you nod, grinning, “and you being at the fortress is just a small obstacle. we’ll make it work, you and me.”

“how?” he asks, voice small and unsure.

“you act like it’s impossible, you silly thing. i’ll come see you, and you’ll come see me, and we can spend nights together wherever is most convenient for the time. why are you overthinking it?” you ask like it’s obvious. maybe it is—maybe his brain just doesn’t let him see how simple of a solution it really is.

“the fortress is no place for someone who’s used to the surface—”

“enough excuses,” you scold firmly, “i won’t have any of it.”

“you don’t know what you’re getting into,” he shakes his head—you cup his cheeks, pulling his face close as you press soft, delicate kisses along his skin. like he’s fragile. like he needs to be handled with care. 

no one has ever handled wriothesley with care. even as a child when he was defenseless. when his parents saw a commodity to raise and sell like livestock instead of a child to love and cherish. when the streets saw a rat with dirty clothes and nimble fingers only good for theft. when he woke up in a hospital bed with cuffs to his hands, wrists shackled, and a caseworker sat a comfortable distance away, even without his gauntlets. when they saw him as nothing more than a murderer on trial as opposed to a child with no other way out. when the world showed him no mercy and left him to fend for himself in a dark, ruthless corner of the nation under the sea with no sun, no grass, no fresh air, and no hope.

no one has thought to treat wriothesley with gentleness, with kindness, with grace—as if he mattered. not until he made himself matter, taking what he wanted through a pen, paper, and meaningless title. 

no one until you. 

“i know exactly what i’m getting into,” you whisper, “you know what i see? when i look at you?”

“what? big muscles?” he teases, voice weak. a last, feeble attempt at keeping himself guarded. it’s useless, and he knows it as well as you do. he’s already far more vulnerable than he’s comfortable with. 

“a good man,” you say firmly, “a good man who is worth the effort. one who has a good heart and no one to share it with. someone who knows when change needs to happen and makes it happen. someone who knows a thing or two about second chances. who shows people mercy if they’re willing to be better—because that’s all he wants. for things to be better.”

“you’re giving me a lot more credit than i deserve, sweetheart,” he says shakily, trying to give you his usual smirk. his lips wobble, much to his dismay—you kiss them to help him hide the tremor like the angel you are. 

he’s not sure why the archons, celestia, or whoever is in charge of fate would send him such a perfect, pure angel in his arms. but they did. he’s certainly not one to miscount his blessings—they’ve been few and far between as is. 

“no,” you murmur, whispering between kisses, “i’m not. i’m giving you as much credit as you deserve. because no one has ever told you these things about you, and it’s time someone did.”

“doing the dirty work, huh?”

“i wish you’d stop with that,” you smile at him sadly, “i wish you would treat yourself with the same kindness you treat everyone else with. that you treat me with.”

“you’re an angel,” he murmurs, pecking your cheek, “that’s the difference.”

“you can’t be that bad if that’s the case,” you grin cheekily, “what kind of angel picks such an awful guy?”

“one who thinks the fatui harbingers make good friends,” he snorts, “one who’s a little on the naive side.”

“i like to think of it as seeing good in people,” you wink. 

he laughs, arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he kisses you. and kisses you. and kisses you—and kisses you some more until you’re forced to pull away and breathe. even then, he’s not satisfied, lips finding the sensitive skin along your collarbones, traveling up along your neck and finding your jaw, peppering soft presses of his lips until they hover over your mouth again.

“you good?” he asks smugly, “need a minute to catch your breath?”

“you’re such a pain,” you huff, pressing against his mouth and closing the gap as he hums against you. 

“what were you just saying about me just a few moments ago? something about a good man?”

“come here,” you sigh exasperatedly—and then you’re tugging him into your bedroom, stumbling and giggling as you both impatiently find the bed. you fall back, the mattress catching you along with him as he hovers over you and doesn’t waste a moment to nip at your neck.

“next time you need help with flowers in a dangerous, stormy place, you ask me,” he says lowly, breath fanning over your skin and making you shiver, “you don’t need the fatui boy.”

“okay,” you laugh, breathless as your eyes flutter shut when he nibbles on the sensitive spot over your pulse point, “you might have to temporarily drop your duties as a duke for that, though.”

“consider it done.” his hands tug your blouse over your head, doing quick work to toss it somewhere on the floor as he grins at the lacey red bra you have on underneath. “this is new,” he comments, “i like this.”

“of course you do,” you grin in amusement, “so predictable.”

“hey,” he pouts, “i’m an easy guy to please. just need you, maybe a few accessories…i don’t ask for much.”

“well,” you look at him in anticipation, “are you going to stare all day? or are you going to take it off?”

his eyes darken—hazed with lust and desperation as he quickly works the bra off of you and tosses it off to the side, too, but not before he stares at the label quickly. “chioriya boutique,” he reads, nodding, “remind me to give her my thanks. and business, too, in the future.”

“shameless,” you scoff, shaking your head.

“grateful,” he corrects, grinning cheekily at you. you don’t even get a chance to retort before his lips are around your nipple, teeth lightly grazing the pebbled nub as he sucks, making you gasp as your hands find his head, cupping the back of it as your own head throws back against the pillows. 

“wri—”

“you know what i see when i see you?” he hums, pulling away from one nipple and latching onto the other, tongue rolling over it slowly as his thumb finds the other, not to leave it neglected, “i see the woman i would defy the gods themselves to possess. who i would commit far worse crimes for, and serve time all over again for. one who commands my every thought. do you know how many times i’ve neglected my duties just thinking about you alone? when i see you, i see the one thing that’s finally mine—mine alone.”

you whimper as his lips reattach themselves to your breast, sucking and grazing his tongue around one nipple and pinching and toying with the other with his hand. your hands tug at his hair, pulling a soft groan from his throat as he pulls away and stares at you. you’re a panting, heaving mess already—he grins in satisfaction.

“pretty,”  he hums, nuzzling his nose against your throat, right where your pulse is erratic, “so, so pretty.”

“all this flattery, and you’ve yet to do something,” you rasp, just to rile him up as he lets out a deep, gruff sound of disapproval, eyeing you with a raised brow.

“oh, you want me to do something, is that it? i thought we’d take our time,” he grazes his finger along your waist, tracing the edge of your skirt before looping his finger under it, tugging slowly, “but if you insist, i guess we can pick up the pace.”

he pulls the skirt down your legs, eyes widening as he takes in the matching red laced panties from the bra earlier—you grin cheekily as he does. “like this one too?”

“oh,” he chuckles, breathless, “sweetheart, you have no idea.” wriothesley is a giver—you’re reminded of this fact as soon as his head buries between your thighs enthusiastically, kissing your clit through the lace as your breath hitches. “did you pick this little set up just for me?”

“don’t be silly,” you tease, “i obviously got this for myself. consider yourself a lucky witness.”

“and a lucky witness i am indeed,” he nods, humming as he slowly, carefully inches the lace down your legs, admiring the way it contrasts against your sweet, supple skin. “i owe chioriya boutique my life. i’ll even give my thanks to madame chiori myself.”

“please do not,” you say in horror, making him chuckle, “that would be utterly undignified.”

he’s not even listening, you realize. his lips attach to your clit as soon as the fabric is discarded somewhere to the side like the rest, a soft groan rumbling from his chest as soon as he tastes you, spreading your legs for better access as he glides his tongue to your folds, pressing between your folds and looking up to watch as your head throws back with a soft gasp. 

“wriothesley,” you gasp, pulling his hair in a tight grip to ground yourself.

you’re the most gentle with him when you handle him—but you’re also the roughest. the way you grasp him so harshly, mercilessly in your grip, makes his eyes flutter shut in a sick, twisted sort of masochism. he loves the pain, the dull throb in his skull from your pleasure. 

“yeah, i’m right here, sweetheart,” he chuckles lowly, “feels good?”

“yes,” you whine, “s’good—so good.”

“i know,” he hums, pressing soft kisses to your clit, along your inner thigh, until he’s back to your folds, hovering over them as he whispers, “i can tell just from the way you’re dripping. isn’t that cute?”

you whine in embarrassment, closing your legs around him as he grins against your cunt, grinding down on his mouth until he’s back to devouring you, tongue slipping deep into you as far as he can, exploring your tight, wet hole with fervor. 

“close,” you whisper, voice bordering on broken, “i’m s-so close—oh, wriothesley!”

you come undone on his tongue with one more roll of his tongue over your clit, shaking as he sloppily eats you out through your high until your whole body is a shaking, quivering mess along with your walls. 

“got anything else from that boutique you want to show me?” he murmurs, moving back up to hover over you, burying his face into your neck as your arms snake around his shoulders, rubbing into his back.

“maybe,” you say vaguely, grinning, “it’s a secret. maybe if you behave, you’ll find out.”

“yeah?” he chuckles, “consider me on my best behavior, milady.”

“then take this off,” you tug at his shirt, pouting as you add, “not fair that i’m the only one undressed.”

“as you wish,” he agrees. you watch as he strips—it’s not embarrassing like the first time or two when you looked away with a hot face and ears. now it’s intimate, watching him bear his soul to you, with every scar and imperfection, every flaw and tainted part.

his cock is hard, standing between his legs as it throbs, a bead of pre cum coating the tip. your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close again as you feel his hardened length poke at your thigh, making you press against it and pull a groan out of him.

“i want you,” you whisper, “i’ve never wanted anyone else. not like this. not like you. i don’t think i ever will.”

“you can’t have met too many people then,” he teases.

“oh, i meet plenty of people. romantic ones at that—flowers are a love language, you know.”

“and you still want me? they must all be taken.”

“they’re not you,” you correct, pulling him into a sweet, slow kiss, taking your time to mold your lips against him and feel him against you, “nothing close to you. no one comes close.”

the bees should come to your lips for nectar, he thinks. flowers bloom from your mouth, delicate and sweet petals that light up his world and color him every shade of love. 

“in that case,” he whispers, pulling away from your mouth to press a soft kiss to your nose, “i’m the luckiest man in fontaine. maybe teyvat.”

“i would agree,” you wink cheekily, “aren’t i such a lucky catch?”

“oh absolutely,” he laughs, amused, fond, so deeply enamored. then his lips are back on yours, and his hips are angled so that his cock teases your folds, grazing the entrance of your cunt as he coats his tip with your dripping slick. 

you both shudder at the feeling, gasping against each other’s mouths as you exchange hot, labored breaths. 

“i want you,” you repeat, “please.”

“you have me,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan as he pushes the tip past your entrance, “as long as you want.”

“that’ll be forever,” you say breathlessly, “think you can handle that long?”

“i’m sure i’ll manage.”

finally, he pushes all the way through, buried to the hilt and stretching you apart until he splits you open on his cock. he presses so deep into you, you can feel him nudge against that sweet, spongy spot without even trying. it’s like he was made for you—like the laws of this land declared him yours from birth and made him fit you in every way possible. the slot of his fingers with yours, the mold of his lips against you, the press of his cock into your cunt. all of it fits you so well, you wonder if you’ve lived your life just to find wriothesley. 

you both moan into each other’s mouths, strangled sounds that you swallow from each other’s mouths as your lips sloppily press into each other. 

“wr-wrio—fuck,” you stammer, nails raking along his back as he rolls his hips, slamming into your deepest, most rawest parts.

“yeah, baby,” he pants, kissing the corner of your mouth, “m’right here, sweetheart.”

you sob when a rough, callused thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves perfectly in tune with the harsh thrusts that fill you so deep. deep—he’s so far into you, you wonder if you can feel him in your throat, in your lungs, and in your heart, knocking the air out of you as you breathlessly try to call his name. 

“faster,” you plead, clinging to him, “more—please, need more.”

“think you can take it?” he chuckles, cutting himself off with a strangled grunt when you squeeze around him particularly tightly, “i think you’re falling apart as is.”

“more,” you whine, back arching as your hips desperately buck up to meet his in tandem, trying to feel him closer, deeper, harder. 

“if that’s what you want,” he hums—you want to scoff at him, but you’re too delirious. you’d tease him for acting like he doesn’t want the same, like the ache of his cock doesn’t crave more friction, doesn’t want to slam into you with little to no self-control outside of chasing his pleasure. you feel so good around him—so good, his head falls to your shoulder as he pants harshly into your ear, murmuring stammered praises. “s-so good, sweetheart. you always take me so good, like the pretty thing you are. how in teyvat did i score the affections of fontaine’s most radiant lady? o-only the gods could know.”

“why don’t you ask them,” you breathe, head pressing against the pillow as your back arches and your toes curl when he slams his swollen tip against your sweet spot once more, hips rolling in perfect precision, “ask them how you got so blessed.”

“maybe i’ll ask the divinity right before me,” he hums smoothly, chuckling when you mewl as his thumb rubs faster into your clit, “how did i get so lucky?”

“because i need you,” you whine, “n-need you—only you.”

“what a sweet answer,” he groans, pumping his cock into you faster, feeling the familiar twitch indicating he’s close—and you are too. he can tell from the erratic squeeze of your walls. “always spoiling me, right sweetheart?”

“wriothesley,” you cry, “i-i’m close. m’so close, please. please.”

“no need to say please, baby,” he grunts, “you can have whatever you want. when you want it, yeah?”

and just like that, you break—his thumb is still rubbing those harsh circles into you swollen clit as you cum, clenching down on him through your high as your mouth parts and your head presses deeper into the pillow. he’s fucking into you, still slamming his hips into you as mercilessly as before, riding you through your orgasm as you chant his name. 

“wri—wriothesley,” you sob.

“yeah, sweetheart? what is it?” he teases—it doesn’t last long, though. his bravado falls apart as soon as the first twitch of his cock indicates his own orgasm. you feel the hot, sticky, endless ropes of cum fill you up, coating your walls as he stiffens over you and shudders, groaning lowly as he empties himself into your sweet cunt. “f-fuck, you feel so good—you’re the only one. the. only. one.”

his hips thrust into you to punctuate the words, cock pushing his release deeper into you, messy and leaking down your thighs and forming a ring at the base of his length. it’s so filthy you almost think it’s a sin. but how could it be when it feels so right, so good?

finally, he slumps over your body, spent and panting as he finishes. you catch your breath under him, labored breath one after the other as your sweaty skin clings against his own.

“you’re beautiful,” he murmurs after some time, kissing the damp skin of your neck.

“i know,” you whisper cheekily, making him chuckle as he rolls over, pulling you into his chest.

“so humble,” he snorts.

“of course,” you beam, “but feel free to leave more compliments.”

“oh don’t worry, i won’t run out any time soon.”

it’s quiet for a bit, apart from your giggles and his low chuckles. soft, peaceful, and so painfully comforting, you wonder if heaven itself wishes for a place beside wriothesley. 

“when you first came up to the surface after your sentence,” you mumble after a few moments of quietness, tracing small loops into his chest as he silently hums for you to continue, “what was the first thing you did?”

“i got a croissant,” he answers thoughtfully, thumb rubbing circles into your hip where his hand is comfortably rested.

you blink, tilting your head to look up at him. his lips curve into a knowing grin.

“pardon?”

he laughs—it’s a beautiful thing. like a boy, eyes crinkled and lips freely curved so wide, you’d think his cheeks were endless with the way they expand to accommodate for such a large stretch. it’s the one time he doesn’t seem like the rugged man you usually know. something younger, more innocent, more raw comes out when wriothesley laughs.

“they go well with tea,” he shrugs, looking down at you, quickly stealing a peck of your nose, “and…” his voice is softer as he trails off, smile faltering.

“and?” you press delicately. so delicately, you’d think you were speaking to a house of cards, one word that’s breathed too harshly away from toppling over.

“and i wanted to visit a bakery i went to as a kid,” he murmurs quietly, voice dropping to a whisper as if he’s admitting something he’s never told anyone. something tells you he just might be. “there was an old lady who used to feed me sometimes when i was a kid on the streets. after i ran away. she’d give me a chocolate croissant and warm tea. i thought…i thought maybe there was a chance she’d still …”

he swallows, cutting his words off just before his voice has the chance to break. it’s a measured gesture. you know it is because you know him. just like you know the feelings of petals and thorns with your eyes closed, you know wriothesley. just like you can tell flowers apart from scent alone, you have him memorized. just like you know what every petal and its origin means, you understand him like it’s your job, too.

except you get paid to do this with something better than mora. with open-mouthed kisses and lingering touches. with coffee in a mug to complement the tea next to it. with strong arms to shield you when rain pours hard over your unsuspecting heads. with a gentle voice that learns to whisper back the language you speak better than anything else.

it says you’re the one i need the most, like rainbow roses. i miss you so much, i ache for you, like mourning flowers. i’d shed blood for you to live, like dendrobiums. you’re what i desire more than anything else, like romaritimes. each word is carefully formed, fragile as it hangs from a singular point. like petals on a stem, his words blossom from the tip of his tongue, falling one by one to your awaiting hands as your thumb traces his lips.

they all tell you one thing—whether he says the words out loud or not, he tells you he loves you through the things he does say. every little promise, every compliment, every form of praise. they say one thing—i love you.

you have always felt loved around wriothesley. you know he loves you, even if you question it sometimes, even if you ache to hear it, you’re always reminded he does when those eyes soften as they look at you, training on you like they never want to look away.

he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you. he loves you not. he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

he loves you.

it always ends with he loves you.

“was she?” you whisper, finger tracing up his chest, along his neck and jaw until it cups his cheek tenderly. he shivers at the touch. “was she still there?”

gentleness isn’t something wriothesley is very familiar with. it raids his skin, takes over the territory that’s only known harshness, and conquers the scarred patches that are barren and empty from all the pain and desolation.

“no,” his voice is barely audible. “her son owns it now. the croissants still taste the same, though.”

“some things never change, i suppose,” you smile softly, leaning closer as your nose presses against his, “even when everything else does. it’s not so bad if you hold onto what you can.”

“and what if you have nothing?” he challenges, closing his eyes when you kiss his jaw sweetly and slowly inhaling a soft breath.

“i’m sure that’s never true,” you murmur, “there’s always something.”

“yeah? how optimistic of you,” he chuckles.

“i’m serious,” you pout, “there’s always a way to make do. look at cacti. they go ages without water, don’t they? and did you know naku weeds can survive being struck by lightning?”

“do you just compare everything to plants?” he asks in amusement, eyeing you with a charmed glint.

“of course,” you huff, “don’t you compare things to what you love most?”

he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. grazes his eyes over your supple skin he’s traced so many times, over the small crinkles by your eyes permanently etched from smiling so often, over the curve of your nose and lips he’s pressed his own against, over the two eyes that stare back at him and see him more than they do look.

and then he nods.

“yeah,” he admits, “i do.”

your lips are as sweet as the warm chocolate that coated his lips and chin as a child. your touch is as soft as the hands of his mother when he thought he could trust her. your eyes are as bright as the sun when he first saw it after years of dark, rusted walls. everything about you reminds him of his past, the better parts and the worst. all of it.

some of it is healing, and some of it hurts so raw he thinks he’ll bleed out. but your hands are dipped in gold, he thinks. they’d make the most infertile soil rich and filled with life, letting him blossom new again right where his blood spilled.

he’s reminded of you in everything he sees. tea reminds him of your coffee with too much milk. paperwork reminds him of how distressed you are by wasted pages and killed trees. his gauntlets remind him of your hands so small in comparison. he’s doomed, he thinks. cursed, even.

cursed to always remember you in everything.

so, of course, he compares everything to what he loves most. because why else would you reside in his mind so endlessly, taking up the space from one end all the way to the other? why else would you remind him of you in even the mundane of things if he didn’t love you so deeply, so purely, so easily, that you’re everywhere all at once, even when you’re nowhere in sight?

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply before letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“i lied,” he admits, making you frown.

“about?”

“about the first thing i did when i got to the surface,” he says quietly. “i went to my parents' graves.”

“to visit them?” you raise a confused eyebrow.

“no. to make sure they were really dead.”

“oh,” is all you say, staring into his eyes as he waits for you to say something more. “well, were they dead?”

“yes,” he snorts, closing his eyes and huffing out a small laugh. “very much so.”

“well, that’s a relief,” you giggle, “otherwise, you’d have served a sentence for murder for nothing.”

“good thing i didn’t, huh?”

“good thing you didn’t,” you nod, grinning as he stares at you softly.

“i’ll take you one of these days,” he hums quietly after a moment. you look surprised, eyes widening as you process the words.

“to your parents' grave?”

“to the bakery,” he rolls his eyes, letting out a breathy laugh. “i don’t think my dead mother would appreciate me bringing back a woman after i killed her.”

“oh, very funny,” you scowl, glaring at him.

“you think so?” he winks, laughing when you gently shove his face away, making his hand grab at your wrist and bite gently into the skin.

you squeal, giggling as he nibbles into your skin. “stop that, you brute!” you demand in between laughs.

it’s quiet for a moment as the laughter settles down, just you and him. him and you. silence echoing off the walls and warmth radiating between your bodies, the sheets clinging to your bare skin. you can feel his bare hip brush against yours. it’s intimate—far more intimate than either of you are used to, but not unwelcome.

he turns, pulling you into his arms and pressing your foreheads together. you think that’s his favorite position to be in—when your faces are so close, they touch. when his eyes can bore into yours. when he can feel the warmth of you tickling his skin as you breathe, as you talk, as you exist before him.

“you’ll like the croissants,” he adds quietly, thoughtfully, “the blackberry ones are particularly nice with the lemon and mint tea—”

you cut him off. before you can think. the words fly past your lips, swept with the breeze like dandelion seeds, and carried through the room as they find shelter in every little crevice. they’ll be here, in every corner, in every little place, a memento of your first real confession.

“i love you.”

he pauses as you cut him off, blinking as he stares at you. something flashes in his eyes—fear, excitement, a small bit of shock and doubt that makes your heartache. you can read him like a book.

it’s not doubt because he thinks you lie. it’s doubt because he thinks it shouldn’t be him. you know that, and you’re prepared to patiently prove him he’s wrong. little by little. day by day. one kiss at a time.

“that’s really enthusiastic,” he shoots you a teasing grin, too easy and too practiced for your liking, “if i knew you liked croissants that much—”

“no, wriothesley,” you say gently, like your words could rock the boat and topple you both into a dangerous, unforgiving current any moment. “i love you. i love when you tell me things you don’t like sharing, and i love when you show me things that are hard to revisit. i love you. because you try, and you’re good at trying. and that’s enough.”

“getting sentimental on me?” he asks hoarsely, smiling tightly.

your hand cups his cheek again, pulling him in so you can kiss the corner of his mouth as you whisper, “yes.” your lips find the other side of his mouth, still at the corner as you whisper again. “because you deserve to hear nice things. even the cheesy ones.”

his eyes close. one moment turns to two, and you let him take his time. let him swallow as he takes a shallow breath before he opens them again and looks at you.

he’s laid bare before you. in more ways than one. being nude is easier than being seen—he trusts you enough to let himself be both.

“you deserve to hear nice things, too,” he admits. it’s not the same as admitting he loves you too, but it’s as close as he can get—still difficult enough that his voice breaks. like it’s hard for him to confess something like this.

it is.

it’s hard for him to tell someone he loves them. the last time he did, he felt the sucker punch of betrayal in his guts, so young that he hardly understood what it meant to be betrayed at all. he watched the same eyes he used to think were his saviors die out as blood spilled in the living room, where his tiny feet padded across as he ran around and played. he misses them sometimes, even now.

his mother’s beautiful green eyes that greeted him in the mornings as she kissed him awake, warm and gentle on his forehead. his father’s deep blue ones that would look at him proudly as he grew and grew, clasping his shoulder with that firmly affectionate grip.

sometimes, he misses them, misses what he thought he had. other times, he’s glad he did it. sometimes, in the dead of night, when it’s just him, he mourns the old him. the one that didn’t have blood on his hands, the him that didn’t have to take two lives to set so many free. the version of him that was allowed to be a boy who existed freely, no taxes to pay for the love he so desperately wanted.

love is wicked like that—it creeps up on you, takes pieces of you, and changes you until you can hardly recognize yourself. until you can hardly recognize everyone around you. how long has it been since he’s seen his siblings? can he even still call them that? do they remember him? would he even recognize them?

he still loves them in his own way. his precious little sisters camille and lucie, and his sweet baby his brothers alexandre and nicolas—he came back and set them free just before it was their time. he didn’t want to leave them, but he had no choice. there were ones who left before him, a time that he can hardly remember anymore. a time before him and antoine. but he recalls them being so delicate with him just as older siblings should be. did they make it out of whatever fate they were sealed to? were they disposed of with no witnesses to bring their demises to justice? he doesn’t know. it’s easier not to know.

it’s easier not to love at all than to open up the risk of hurting. every person he’s ever loved has caused him pain. even the innocent siblings who did nothing wrong—all he’s ever known is pain. the pain of not having them around anymore. the pain of their quiet demise. the pain of setting them free and letting them go. the pain of never having them to himself like a proper family.

loving is so hard for him, so hard on him. so unforgiving to him. so cruel and harsh to him that he hides away behind guarded fists and loaded punches. and you know it, too—he knows you do because you reward his confession with the softest kiss you’ve ever given him as soon as he spills the words.

“i love you,” you murmur the sweet words into his mouth between warm kisses, “i love you. i love you.”

“say it again,” he pleads. it’s easier to let you love him than it is to love you—you don’t mind letting him be a little selfish. he deserves it, in fact.

“i love you. more than anything i’ve ever loved.”

“promise me,” he begs.

“i promise,” you say firmly. “and you don’t have to say it back, not yet. but i want you to know it because you should know you’re loved.”

all at once, the vines wrapped around his chest release, one petal blooming across his heart and arteries at a time until the nectar is running through his veins.

it’s warm. it’s sunny. it’s soft. it’s so, so safe. it doesn’t hurt. it never does with you. you never let it.

“i love you too,” he croaks. he shivers as he says it before he’s grinning slowly, chuckling in wonder as he lets the words sink in before he repeats again, “i love you.”

“yeah?” you beam, eyes crinkling as joy tucks itself into the crevices.

he nods. “yes. and your weird nature lectures.”

you pout, making him laugh. “hey—”

“and your annoyingly aromatic house with petals everywhere—”

“they’re not everywhere—”

“and that ugly dog watering can of yours—”

“it kind of reminds me of you, so—”

“i love them all, and i want them for the rest of my life. i hope you take it easy on the snapdragons, though. i think i’m allergic.”

“such a romantic at heart,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. but they’re glassy, swelling with unshed, precious little tears.

he kisses your eyelids as you close your eyes, murmuring, “i’m doing my best here. cut me some slack, i’ve never dated someone before.”

“oh, wriothesley,” you sniffle, tears coating your sun-soaked skin. and despite the evidence of tears, he’s never seen joy on your face like this before—so clear and radiant. “who taught you about romance? you’re hopeless.”

“hopelessly in love with you,” he shoots back smugly, wiggling his brows.

“i’m doomed,” you snort, letting out a watery chuckle.

“yeah,” he says cheekily, “you are. i hope you’re prepared.”

you kiss him in reply. he kisses you, too. you kiss each other. flowers bloom everywhere your lips touch—wriothesley swallows every petal gratefully.

you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not. you love him. you love him not.

you love him.

you love him.

you love him.

it always ends with you love him.

and he loves you, too. you both love each other. the words bounce from both of your tongues like you take turns tasting them, feeling them, familiarizing yourselves with them.

it doesn’t matter who whispers the words first or who murmurs them last. no matter who breaks the silence, it always ends with i love you.

ITS FINISHED. WOW. i never thought a flower shop drabble was going to turn into this—i actually had a completely different flower shop au idea that was going to be a long fic but i just wanted to write a tiny practice round drabble to get the itch out my system before i had time to sit down for the full fic. well as you can see…the practice run kind of took a mind of its own so now we have this. LOL. i think perhaps i will also write the other idea but we will see!!! this one kind of replaced the other one in my heart as flower shop wrio lore lol 🥸

ANYWAY!!! i hope you all enjoyed this as much as i enjoyed writing it. idk if wrio was ooc or not or if i did his past and trauma justice but i certainly tried!! all the things about his past with the siblings and his mother's diary and the croissant at the bakery are all headcanons i carefully crafted and hold so so so dear. they are my truth!!! and they make me fall in love with him so much more deeply :( anyway! if you liked it then as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated. now if you’ll excuse me, i will be doodling his name in pink glitter pen with hearts in my diary and giggling.

[neesieiumz]

𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑩'𝑺 𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑳𝑬 || ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ

summary | stuck in a small town, kento takes a leap and takes a cooking class at the town's only apple orchard, and changes his life forever.

warnings | nsfw. 18+. minors do not interact. fluff-angst-smut with a happy ending. like i wanna make this really sweet but this has also its own plotline. It gives Hallmark Movie. cfo!nanami who hates the city life. female reader. afab reader. apple-orchard owner!reader. smut. cunnilingus. missionary position. he falls in love with you at first sight. yuuji, nobara, megumi, inumaki, maki and yuta all work at the orchard as well. ex-boyfriend!toji. good-dad/person!toji. family drama. family problems. mentions of emotional abuse. nanami's father is mentioned (everything about him is not canon, so don't worry.) your uncle is not a good person. oc characters. mention of oc characters death.

notes | this is all thanks to @ohkento (who also beta read for me 💞) and @todorosie when we were venting about new nanami fans and talking about his characterization as well lmaoooo. lulah brought up the idea and it's been stuck with me ever since. i also wanna thank @tteokdoroki for being my writing partner during this. NOW ON AO3

word count | 44k

What good is a man, if he is a lost man?

Life passes by, the wind’s breeze carefully blowing past the chimes of life. An out-of-body experience, ungrounded, unholy. 

Unneeded.

Kento Nanami has always done what he was told, nothing more and nothing less. Following the hardened orders of his father’s stern voice. As he grew as tall as the trees in his grandmother’s backyard, all he had was the virulent words of his father to guide him. All he could do was listen. His words were like the poisonous apples Snow White ate, which led to her demise, yet unlike Snow White, he did not have the seven dwarves to help her, nor had any opulent royal figure to use an idea of love’s first sight and kiss to help him. All he could do was eat and chew on the sulfuric skin of the apple, the acerbic flesh of the fruit, hoping the nutrients underneath it would pull him out of his anguish. His hope was for naught. For all it did was make his battered mind complacent, his personality turned hostile to those who first met him. 

His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes glowered, sulking, hunched over. He trodden to school and back to the desolate home, empty and devoid of any life. Forward and back, again and again, nonstop of eating and upon the apples of his words. All his formative years, after the tragic loss of his maternal grandmother, the last connection to his mother was held and molded in the hands of his father. His father would have never even raised him, if not for his grandmother’s passing. The dreams and hopes, the soft words she instilled into him, crushed, and pressed and squeezed out of him. His father was a hydraulic press, and he was the unassuming apple, placed underneath and squeezed of all life. 

Middle school. High School. All went by a blur for him, because it was all the same, a simple change of location was the most “provocative” thing that happened to him during those times. 

University… It was different, but the same in a way. 

He studied finance, and the only choice he had was to have his father support his education. It was the one area of study he had the least amount of the vitriol for. He was away from home, his school a whole two hours away from home. However, the expectations were still the same, the already diminutive trust between father and son wavered about the more and more he pulled away from him. He was given a semblance of freedom…but what was he to do? When he would ask himself that question, all he could hear was the voice of his father, repeating every rule and word he spoke throughout his life. Even two hours away, it is like he never left. His father was the voice of his consciousness. His father was his inner voice, and with nothing else, all he could do was listen. It was the reason he accepted Satoru Gojo’s invitation to work with him, the moment they graduated high school. His “incisive appliance of finance” according to many of his professors, was what his family business needed. One could not go two steps without hearing about the famous Gojo Conglomerate. 

This is it, everything we have been working for. His father’s voice was loud, it overpowered his thoughts. 

It is the reason he went on to take up the highest position in the company’s financial department, within the executive floor, all financials held his final say. And just like that, it was like middle and high school over again. He went to work, and went back home, home to his desolate home, empty and devoid of all life. Every week, he would send money to his now-aging father, who renovated his room as quickly as cheetahs ran through the river. It didn’t matter, he had a lot of it, and that was the goal at the end of the day, right?

What good is a man, if he is a lost man? If he is a lost man with money, good for everyone but himself. 

The air smelled of spiced fruit, cinnamon, and nutmeg. He stood amid a bustle within the square of the town. In his hands, held a steaming cup of tea in his hands, watching as the steam billowed from it. He still wonders how he got here, in the middle of a small town. His other hand tucked into the pocket of his new jacket, protecting himself from the cool temperature of the climate. His other hand wrapped around the cup, lifting it up to take a sip of the warm drink, feeling flushed as it heated him up temporarily, feeling it pool in his stomach. 

As he walked, not knowing where he was going, he could feel his phone burning holes in his pockets. The device reminded him of the reason he was here, a favor to his boss/friend if he can really call him that. More of a benign tumor that never seems to let him go. If there was one thing about Satoru Gojo is that he never fails to see how far he can branch out, to see just how many pots he can put his hands in. Doesn’t matter the time or the place, if there's an opportunity, he’ll take it. 

This is why, once again Kento Nanami is here, in the small town of Aquarine. He still had no idea as to why he was here, only given a phone number and an email address from Gojo. So now, all Kento could do was take his newly given week off, waiting for this “business venture” to come through. 

Lifting his head up, his brown eyes landed on a crooked wooden sign, with the letters burned into each wooden, chipped arrow, each pointing in different directions. To his left, where he just came from, three different signs pointed to an attached line of small businesses and shops, giving off the names including the name of the cafe where his tea came from. However, only one arrow pointed to the right or straight-ahead for Kento. He took one glance, seeing nothing but a dirt and bare road. He looked back at the sign, before seeing the cursive, beautiful lettering singed into the wood. 

Honeyed Orchards. 

An orchard. He could not lie to himself, his curiosity was piqued, and he could not remember the last time he’d ever stepped into one of those before. Lifting his left wrist up, he took a glance over at the time from his extremely expensive watch, a gift from Geto for his 27th birthday. 4:27, he saw the ticking hands currently landed on. Once again, he had absolutely nothing to do. So with a breath, seeing the condensed steam blow out from his nostrils, he shafted the scarf around his neck before turning his feet towards the dirt path.

With every step he took, the more he left the small town behind, soon surrounded by nothing but dirt and plainlands stretching out for miles. With no distraction from the bustle of the holiday season in the small town, all he could do was focus on each and every step in front of him. He lifted his hand, taking another long sip of his tea. He felt the glow of the setting sun to his right, as well as the cool breeze of the frigid fall, soon turning into winter. Kento could feel the nip of frostbite tickling against his ears, seriously regretting not buying a pair of earmuffs. 

He took another sip before his eyes caught onto something in the distance, a mangle of things. As he walked closer, the first thing his eyes caught was a fence, silver and tall, almost six feet tall. That said, the fence also had spiked wiring twisted along the top of the fencing. His eyes then moved to the trees, stationed not too far from the fencing. There were a lot of trees, each spaced a few feet from each other, so you could walk in between each one. The area was big, at least from the one side Kento could see. The orchard must have taken up at least two to three acres from one side, which he could only estimate how big it was. 

His eyes caught onto something along the side of the road, seeing what seemed to be a large sign anchored right next to the front fencing of the orchard. Once again, a foreign curiosity grappled at him. The moment he got to the sign, he turned his head to see exactly what it said. 

It was a chalkboard sign, with huge blocky, bubble letters that said, “3RD WEEK OF COOKING WITH THE BOSS, SPACE IS STILL AVAILABLE, PRICE: $75. COUPLES/PAIRS $85. FAMILIES $95. THIS WEEK’S DELICACY: APPLE PIE BARS. SEE MORE INSIDE.” Around the words, Kento could see different drawings and designs around it, enticing people to come and learn how to bake different things with them. 

He saw a bee buzzing around, with little track marks detailing his tour from the drawn honey pot as well. There was also a bunch of apples, all different colors, drawn at another corner of the sign. It was sweet and very cute. His eyes then glanced up, seeing the opened fence door, with a paved brick and windy road, with a few cracks into it, leading up to steps to a home. A beautiful terracotta color was what caught his eye first. Glancing back at the sign, he soon made his way towards the house, his oxfords hitting again the brick pavement of the orchard. He soon made it up the stairs, before his eyes landed on the sign right underneath the doorbell. 

Welcome to Honeyed Orchards

Hours: Mon to Thurs – 8:30 to 5:30. Thurs to Sat – 9:30 to 7:30. Closed on Sundays. 

Knock twice before entering, please. 

He then lifted his hand, knocking twice before moving on to the doorknob, slowly twisting it before pushing the door open. Immediately, he was hit by the intense smell of rich red apples, and the strong scent of currant and sweet cinnamon as well. The interior was spacious, the walls nearly covered head to toe with a mixture of three different holiday decorations, yet it seems to have made it work. The floors were wood, glossy, waxed, and clean, to the point where they could see his warbly reflection. To his left, he could see stairs right next to an open space, with a sign that said, “Welcome! :-)”. 

Stepping inside the space, the wooden floors are now covered by a soft carpet, red in color with multi-colored designs on it. The walls had bookcases pressed against the theme, filled to the brim with different titles. Scattered around the room were comfy couch-like chairs, with decorative pillows as well. 

“Hello!” a voice suddenly called out, startling him just a bit. 

Swiftly, he turned his head to his left, only to see a decently sized desk, with someone standing behind it. A boy, no more than sixteen years old, standing behind it with a huge smile on his face. He had pink-spiky hair, with crescent-shaped marks underneath his eyes. Kento walks up to the desk, taking a glance at the young boy before looking at the signs behind him.

Pick-your-own tour – $70 per person 

Catering/To-Go Menu

Apple Custard Tart → ||1 tart → $3 || 5 tarts → $7 || Dozen →  $16

Apple Donuts → || 1 donut → $2 || 5 donuts → $6

Dozen → $15

Apple-Pomegranate Cobbler – $25

Apple-Rum Spiced Cake – $45

Apple Upside-Down Cake – $35

Double Crust Apple Pies – $20 per pie

Fried Apple Pies – $20 per pie 

Honey-Spiced Apple Cider -> Pack of 6 – $9.95 || Pack of 12 – $20.95

Pomegranate-Glazed Apple Fritters -> 1 fritter → $1 || 5 fritters → $6 || 12 fritters → $14 || 24 fritters → $26

He could feel his stomach turn in hunger, glancing at the menu, before looking at the worker who stood in attendance at the desk. 

“Welcome to Honeyed Orchards, do you wish to go on a tour or buy a cake?”

The flash of the sign outside came into his mind, “I saw a sign outside about these classes, and to sign up–” The boy, however, cut him off, his face full of excitement as he began to type away at whatever computer was in front of him.

“Oh yes, yes yes, Cooking with the boss! They take place every Thursday, after business hours from 6:00 to 7:30, is that okay?” Kento said nothing, shifting weight in between his body before nodding his head. 

“Then, I'll sign you up right now! Can I have your name?”

“Kento Nanami.”

The boy– Yuuji, from his name tag—began typing it in before taking a glance up at Kento. 

“You’re not from this place, are you? I think I would have remembered you?”

Kento lifted his eyebrow up, before nodding shortly, “I’m not… I’m here for… business.” He spoke, taking the last sip of his tea before crushing the cup in his hands. 

Yuuji’s brown eyes glanced at his hands, before bending down underneath the desk and pulling out a trash can, “you can put that in here if you need to.”

“Oh,” he was a little taken aback at the amount of pleasantry in his voice, “thank you.”

He threw his insulated single-use cup away, Yuuji smiling before focusing back on the computer. 

“Sorry if it’s taking a minute, this is my first time behind the desk,” Yuuji said, squinting at the screen below him.

“No worries, please take your time, I’m not in a rush.”

The two of them soon exchanged light words as Yuuji tried to figure out how to pull up the classes to sign him up for them. Yuuji mentioned how three of his friends and some upper-class peers from his school all work here, all scattered about the land, doing different things. 

“The boss is in town right now, along with Megumi, my friend, getting the last ingredients for tomorrow’s class— Oh here it is!” Yuuji fist-pumped, a huge smile on his face causing Kento’s own lips to upturn slightly at his high energy. 

“Okay, that will be 75 dollars!” he said, in turn pushing Nanami to fish his wallet out of his jacket pocket.

Flipping it open, he pulled out a clean and crisp 100-dollar bill from his pocket before giving it to Yuuji. 

“Keep the change,” he said immediately, taking the receipt from his hands, as well as a brochure of instructions as well. 

“Oh thank you, and see you tomorrow at 6:30!”

Kento turned around, giving Yuuji a small wave before walking away, soon exiting out of the cozy home. It was like his steps caught a new wind as he made his way back to his inn room within the town. He didn’t know what it was, why he felt this way. Was it because he had something to look forward to? Ever since he stepped foot on that Orchard, something within him twisted and turned the more he thought about it, but yet also something warm began to bud within the coldness of his heart.

Hmm… He’ll blame that on the tea he drank.

The next day arrived, and Nanami found himself walking past the sunset, on that same dirt path on his way to the Orchard once more. His hands were empty this time, tucked in his creme pants as he eyed the orchard house he had just in yesterday. The moment he walked up the stairs, not bothering to look at the sign before knocking twice and opening the door.

The first thing he noticed was the voices echoing throughout the foyer. Scattered about were about 20-24 people, maybe even more, all mingling together. The lights were dimmed, on account of the darkening sky outside as he stepped inside the house fully. To his left, he could see an erected table, with trays of what seemed to be apple-related snacks as well as both a clear pitcher as well as a metal insulated one. Taking a moment, he walked over to the table, taking one of the many paper plates before looking at everything offered, each with a sign indicating what they were. Apple turnovers, chocolate cookies, brownies, etc. He took a little bit of everything before making his way to the pitchers where they each labeled respectively “hot” and “cold” cider. He took a paper cup before putting it underneath the spout and filling it ¾ of the way. 

He stood in the background, watching as these people who obviously look like they’ve grown up together, have their own conversation. There were people across the board, old and young, and there looked to be at least two different families here as well. Lifting up the sweet delicacy, he took a tentative bite, eyes slightly widening at the taste of the soft, sugar-crusted pastry, as well as the juiciness of the apples within the desert. He took another, bigger bite, each one better than the last one. The soft, buttery flakiness of the turnover pastry only enhanced the flavor of the cinnamon and sugar-glazed apple filling. 

Before he knew it, he was already reaching for another piece, the one in his hands gone. Taking his next bite, a noise caught his attention, and the people around him, as he looked up to see Yuuji, the boy from earlier in the afternoon who signed him up, standing there. He wore a red apron and had a wide smile on his face, hands clasped in front of him. 

“Welcome once again everyone, you can all follow, and please wash your hands at the back of the room, and we can go ahead and get started!” He announced, waving for the crowd of people, families included to follow him. 

In an unmannerly-like fashion, he stuffed the rest of the pastry in his mouth, using his hand to cover up his boorishness before following the crowd, being the last one to walk in. The room was bright, the overhead lights all on the fullest setting. From what Kento counted, there were twelve tables, six tables on each side with a middle aisle. Each table has two sets of ingredients, possibly two people sharing one table to make as much room as possible. First, keeping safety in mind, he followed behind and made sure to wash his hands thoroughly, before making his way to the tables. 

Eying the table closer, he can see laminated cards, folded in half into something that reminded of his name plaque back on his office desk. Walking around the tables, cautiously not catching the eye of anyone who was taking their place at the table. He soon found his own name, which was last name only, his eyebrows furrowing at the sudden misspelling of his name. 

‘Nanamin’ It seems that someone must have miswritten his name. 

Nonetheless, he took his place, eyeing each of the ingredients, all carefully weighed out and in place. Multiple bowls, each containing either, sugar, both brown and white, and flour. Plates that contained butter, were each carefully labeled as salted or unsalted as well. There were many other ingredients as well, each carefully placed into three categories, Crust, Filling, and Toppings. In the middle of all the ingredients was a laminated piece of paper, a recipe, printed on beautifully-designed apple greenery-inspired paper. 

Kento sits down on the stool, and just as he’s about to scan through the recipe itself, the door opens. 

“Welcome everyone,” a new, unfamiliar voice calls out to the room.

The rumbling of the room rested as Kento heard footsteps very close to him. His eyes glanced up, and he stopped. 

Beautiful was his first thought, his brown eyes watching as you made your way to the front and center of the room, standing in the middle of the blackboard that held the words, “Today’s desert, Apple Pie Bars!” 

You were wearing a black apron, french-retro, and skirt-like, with two short layers of a ruffled skirt. Said apron had apples, red, yellow, and green designed and scattered all against it. Despite the evident datedness of the apron, it was obvious that you kept it in good condition. Underneath the apron, you wore a simple red-plaid shirt, with dark jeans as well, and paired with a simple pair of black boots. Your hair, long braids with loose curls at the end, was pinned and packed up by a huge black hair clip. 

Your smile was wide, accompanied by glossy lips as you greeted the class in front of you, introducing yourself as well. The moment he heard your name, I felt something within him shift, something clenching at his heart. The heat was rising in him as well, he could feel his fawn skin being tinged with red and pink. Kento coughed under his breath, using his scarf to muffle the sound, taking deep breaths to calm the boiling inner turmoil within him. 

“Welcome to the third class, and I think I speak for everyone when I say this is definitely a class everyone has been waiting for. Apple Pie Bars is definitely something everyone around town enjoys,” you speak, beginning to pace around the room. 

“A delicious snack, for you, your kids, friends— trust me, there’s very little people that don’t enjoy these.”

You winked, and Kento couldn’t hold back his smile as the room erupted into a burst of short laughter as well. He faced forward, sitting down at the provided stool as you continued on your introduction. 

“Alright, first let’s begin with our crust, the oven’s are already preheated and be sure to make sure you have an oven-safe label so we don’t mix anyone up!”

He followed your every instruction, watching you as you stood at your own table, Yuuji right beside you, as you showed hands-on what to do. His hands felt sticky and pasty as they mixed the flour and salt into the wet ingredients. There were spatulas and some tables even had electric mixers involved but your words, “I prefer to use my hands, which is why clean hands are really important for this step, but putting in that extra effort makes them taste just as good,” made him at least want to try. After all, he would be the only one eating these bars after all. 

Soon after, watching how his dough consistency was similar to yours, he spread the mixture onto the greased pan, pressing it until it was smooth against the silver pan. On the sides, there was a symbol, a pair of glasses taped to the sides. This must have been the symbol that made his pan different from the others. One by one, everyone lined up, with him at the front, they all placed their trays into the ovens, already preheated and ready for them. Once everyone was in the ovens, you turned on a timer, before facing the class again. 

“Next is the filling, which requires the mini stove in front of you, each person will be sharing one of course, but there’s enough room for everyone to use it at once!”

He glanced down at the mini stove, seeing two pans on his side of the stove and seeing another two on his table sharer’s side as well. Suddenly, the door closest to him, the one that you came out of opened up, and suddenly people, teenagers all about Yuuji’s age, five in total, rolled a cart in front of them. They all wore the same apron as Yuuji, and each had their own name tag. 

“My lovely assistant and employees will happily pass out the apples,” you said, everyone watching as they all grabbed a bowl from the cart before passing them out, placing two bowls on every table. 

A girl with long green hair, and purple glasses placed two bowls on Kento’s table. He took a glance at her name tag, seeing the name “Maki” written there. Quietly, he thanked her, and she nodded her head, before moving on to the next table. Once they were all passed out, the incoming employees bowed, some of them smiled, and the others waved at you before slowly walking out. At the corner of his eye, he could see Yuuji waving at two of them, a boy with black spiky hair and a girl with a ginger bob on her head. 

“Now that we've all got our apples, fresh as they could possibly be, let’s move on to make our filling! Let’s turn on the stoves and start melting the butter that’s under the Filling category.”

The next steps, he especially watched carefully since he was now working with constant heat. He watched as the two skillets were used to make the same things, but no pans would be big enough for everything to fit in. He caramelized the apples and poured in water carefully to prevent the apples themselves from burning. As you work, Kento can see Yuuji moving behind the scenes, his eyes carefully watching all the pans within the ovens and seeing how the crust reacts under the heat. 

Fifteen minutes went by and the caramelized apple filling was put away in an empty metal bowl, with a plastic cover to keep everything warm. 

“Finally, we have the topping, which is, of course, optional for those who have an aversion or allergy to nuts. To those who opted for walnuts, please listen to my instructions,” you started, taking up the cup of crushed walnuts into your hands, 

Kento followed along as you toasted the walnuts onto the newly provided, clean skillet. The room soon began smelling nutty, and smoky as Kento watched his nuts slowly turn a golden brown, careful to make sure that the walnuts didn’t burn. He watched your every move and made plans to follow them. After the toasting, the stove turned off, and the pan holding the walnuts was placed in a heat-safe area. The next step was to mix the last of the ingredients for the topping in another bowl, carefully adding the chilled butter to it. At this, the timer beside you went off, and immediately Yuuji got to work, bringing out each tray of the crust to every table. 

The crust was golden-brown perfect and he could smell the warmth and comfort within the crust of the bars. He looked away, going back to his nuts and turning off the heat the moment he saw a tinge of dark brown-turning black at the edges of the nuts. After that, the final step for the topping was to mix the nuts into the cinnamon-butter mixture and massage it into clumps. 

“We’re at the final part, now everything else is as simple as pie. Just put the filling into the crust, smoothing it out, before pouring the topping on top of it before putting them all back into the oven for one more hour.”

An hour later, Kento was faced with a cool pile of freshly made apple pie bars. The room was full of a nutty apple scent, and everyone around him was speaking, some were taking premature bites of their desserts, Kento seeing them yelp in pain from the heat, but still smiling from the taste. 

“I see that you’re a new face.” Your voice was close, too close to him. 

Quickly, he turned around, his steps stumbling as he was suddenly faced with your beauty. 

“Yes.” Despite his suddenly beating heart, his voice was calm, a little too calm honestly, “I’m not from around here.”

“Oh, and what brings you to the little old Aquarine? Doubt there’s much out here?” You smiled at him, leaning against the counter, one hand laid across the counter, and the other pressed up against your face, holding you steady.

“Business, as a favor to a friend,” he spit out before he had another chance to think about it. 

Your eyebrows quirked up, “Business,” your eyes suddenly fluttered up and down, Kento’s spine straightening as your eyes looked back up at his face. 

“Yeah, you seem like the business type,” you hummed, but your smile was still unwavering. 

Taking a deep breath, he held his hand out, “Nanami, Namami Kento.”

You glance at his hand, before looking back at him, before your soft hand enveloped his hand, shaking it slowly, as you reintroduce yourself to him, this time with your last name as well. 

“So, you say you’re here on business, by the way that watch looks, I’m assuming it's very expensive business, huh?”

He glanced down at his watch, the expensive thing, and shrugged his shoulders, “that’s what I'm here to determine anyways.”

With a slow nod, you took in what he said before focusing your own attention on the apple bars he created. With one hand you pointed to them, looking over at him.

“Did you try one yet, or are they still too hot for your mouth to handle?”

Your voice teased him, a playful smirk dancing on your face. The feeling within him, an elated feeling had him reaching over to the metal tray, before picking it up and putting it in his mouth. To think he was just criticizing those who put the bars in his mouth before letting them cool. Luckily, his tongue didn’t suffer too much from the heat, and the nutty apple taste of the bars distracted him from whatever pain he was feeling. The crunch of walnuts mixed into the chewy cinnamon-butter topping, all baked perfectly, mixing in with the caramelized apples was perfect.

“Well, Mr. Nanami?” your voice airy, and the way you spoke his last name had his heart clenching in not only desire but unease. 

Once he was finished, he took the complimentary bottle of water, taking a few sips before facing you once more. 

“I was never a desert person until I came here, your recipes are incredible.”

Your smile suddenly became much more bashful, your smile wide as you looked away, “thank you, I may have come up with the recipe, but all the thanks belong to my grandmother.”

Your head tilted up, and his eyes followed your own to see an older woman in black and white photography, with features similar to you smiling there in an all-gray background as well. He smiled at the picture before turning back to you.

“I’m sure she’ll be very proud of you,” Kento states, picking up another bar before taking a bite. 

You smiled back at him, but before you could say something, suddenly the spiky-haired boy who came in early in the class pushed through the door near the two of you. Eyeing you, he walked up to you before whispering something in your ear. Kento watched your reaction closely to the teenage boy’s words, watching as your smile faded and the brightness in your eyes faded. Something was wrong, Kento thought. He put his bar down as he tried to step closer to you, but instead, you turned to him, a smile returning on your face, a fake one that reminded him of the one Satoru gave during very boring executive and chairman meetings. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Nanami, but it seems I have to cut our conversation short, but I really hope to see you around town.”

Before he could say something, you were gone, the boy following after you. He could only watch as you left, the lingering smell of red currant and amber following you. He could hold back the sigh, this unknowing feeling deflating within him the moment you were gone. Sighing, he grabbed the cover to the aluminum tray, covering the rest of his desert, before fixing up his scarf and jacket, smiling at the lingering guests before making his way out of the orchard, towards his inn room. 

Honeyed Orchards was your heart and soul. 

You were born on this Orchard's grounds, as were your mother and her siblings as well. These sources hold memories for you. When you would take walks with your family, you would often find yourself passing by the place where you first walked, on a picnic blanket, surrounded by your grandmother, your ailing grandfather, and your parents. Your father was a sweet, caring, and strong man from the few memories you had of him, and what your grandparents had recorded of him. You would see him, cutting down old rotting trees, taking huge baskets of apples with his bare hands, and carrying them back. He would often hold competitions with your grandfather, before he got sick, on who could carry the most baskets, your grandmother used to recount. “Your father would win, of course, don’t tell your granddad I said that, even after the grave, he would still say he won every time.” 

You would see your mother, holding you in her arms or in a makeshift carrier, helping your grandmother cook for the bakery, or even sometimes carrying baskets of apples as well. Her smile, the exact same as your grandmother’s, was always wide. Your grandmother always made sure to capture their love for each other, and their love for the Orchard your family grew up in as well. They had made plans for them to continue the work after your grandmother, and your grandmother had been happy, knowing that her eldest daughter and her husband would continue running Honeyed Orchards. 

They died in a tragic accident as they were driving back from the city. A date night, you remember that night as clear as day, you were ten after all. You stayed with your grandmother, helping her prepare for the bakery, making huge bowls of apple fillings for different pastries. It was nothing new, this was nothing new for you, yet everything changed the moment they died. The medical costs and funeral nearly put your grandmother under, and with little to no help from your aunt or uncle, your mother’s younger siblings, who left their small-town life behind. The two of you had no one but each other, you had lost your parents, the people who gave you life and were one of two reasons that you would smile every day, and your grandmother lost the only daughter and son-in-law who cared about both her and her life’s long work. 

Every root, every trunk, every branch, every flower, and every fruit that was borne from it, held deep, sustaining memories for you. All the good ones, and all the bad ones as well. 

So when your grandmother would eventually pass away, it was a no-brainer that she would give you the Orchard. You had just returned from four years in university, a stipulation for taking ownership of the Orchard, majoring in agricultural studies as well as a minor in business. That day when she passed away was a peaceful one for you, unlike your parents, you knew her time was coming much sooner. 

Two days after that was the reading of her Will, and in those two days, you would meet the person who would continue to hound you for the next five years. 

Your mother’s younger brother, your uncle who didn’t bother to lift a finger when your mother had passed. 

He believed that when your mother passed away, his older sister, he would get the Orchard, not even for a second believing that it would pass on to his niece. His niece who has never spoken a word to and has seen one (1) singular picture of when she was turning one. So when the town’s solicitor announced that he would only be getting a decent amount of her inheritance, but no Orchard, the man was livid. He had planned to contest the will, citing there’s no way that you, a young girl, could ever run the Orchard, However, your grandmother knew her one and only son and made sure that her Will was bound tightly, that there was no physical way for him to contest the will, and that the only way that he could be the orchard was through the very niece he despised. You. 

The youngest of your mother’s siblings, her sister, she was alright, not much to say about her. She knew she wasn’t getting the orchard, and she only recently started talking to her mother again, before she passed. Your aunt gave you a simple hello, a warning about her older brother and his relentlessness, and a simple goodbye, taking the check and heirlooms left by your grandmother before taking the next train back to where she lived with her wife and two kids. 

Ever since that day, letters, calls, and emails have flooded your inbox, all coming from either your uncle directly or your uncle’s people, who seem to deal in shady business and work. Every time, your answer was the same, that you would NOT sell your livelihood to him. You knew he wanted to make a quick buck off of it, but there was probably so much more history behind his resentment and indignation towards both your grandmother, her orchard, and your mother as well. 

Five long years, business is amazing, single-handedly digging yourself out of the hole that your parents' deaths had caused. Your orchard is the perfect place for school children within the city to take a field trip 45 minutes away to play and learn more about the life cycle of plants as well. You established both the bakery and gift shop. You worked hand in hand with the city for special events as well, and don’t forget the number of events, weddings, and birthday parties all taking place on Honeyed Orchard's grounds. 

Still, your uncle was unrelenting, as per your aunt’s last words to you, and even now after five years, you find your fences being vandalized, and random things found upon the porch of the main building/your personal home. He would throw salt all over the trees, most of them survived the attack but some of them would succumb to the salt, and you would have to cut them down. Threats in the form of pig's blood smeared across the doors, windows, walls, and porch wood. Multiple reports to the one and only police station in Aquarine, yet they could never be caught and you can only put many cameras on a huge property. 

One of the things you came up with was having cooking classes for one month out of the year, coming up with new recipes, and teaching it to people who really wanted to learn. Some families would use it as a time to bond with each other, couples would share a table and create their own connections to feed each other. By the third class, the same people were coming by…

So it definitely caught your attention when a blonde, handsome stranger joined your class. He was put in the front of your class, with only one name, which later learned was a misspelling of his last name—which you would blame Yuuji for— as he was in charge of the name cards for everyone. He wore a heavy blazer to protect himself from the growing chills outside, as well as a scarf and glasses. An air of what you thought was artiness was around him, the moment you laid your eyes on him as you were speaking. However, when you spoke to him, his voice was calm, and tranquil, this aura of artiness you thought he had, mostly likely a product of a growing nervousness, knowing how many people had their eyes on him. You knew he was the topic on almost everyone’s minds, seeing your students eye him and speaking in low-toned voices around him, hoping he wouldn't pick up on their conversations. 

Out of everyone, he followed your instructions to the tee, including using his hands to mix the crust of the bars, everyone else preferred the spatulas or mixers you provided. His apple pie bars are nearly identical to your own as well.

When class was over, you knew you had to take the time to talk to him, and luck was on your side when he seemed to be equally responsive to your words. Your grandmother used to call you “A Human Double,” to be able to almost accurately predict someone and their life just by simply looking at them, and what they were wearing. 

You smiled as he ate the pie bar in whole, watching as his skin turned a slight pink from the heat but easily watched him chew and down the whole thing. He called your recipe, “incredible,” a common compliment you heard almost every day but yet, coming from him, something within you kick-started as you saw him pick up another bar. Just as you opened your mouth, the urge to ask him if he was doing anything tomorrow, your optimism was shattered the moment you saw Megumi rush into the classroom, a very worried look on his face.

With no time, he whispered in your ear, “Your uncle is here, and he’s not leaving until he sees you. Yuuji, Nobara and Maki are doing their best but he has people with him.”

So now here you are, stomping out in the back, huffing and puffing, anger written all over your face as Megumi follows behind you. You untied our apron, easily throwing it onto the hook you kept it on before going through the back door where you found a growing commotion. The first thing you noticed was Yuuji and Maki stepping up to your uncle, their eyes furrowed, anger coursing through their systems. The next thing you noticed, as well as the first thing you heard, was your uncle and his people’s words, jeering and mocking the job each of them did. All of your employees excluding Megumi who was right behind you were surrounding them. Jogging down the porch, raising your voice but not yelling, telling them to take a few steps back. 

Hearing your voice, they turned around, following your instructions immediately as you stepped up in between your teenage employees and your deceitful uncle. Who stood amid his goons, hands tucked in the pockets of his oversized suit jacket. 

“Ahh, my beautiful niece, just who I needed to see.” He started, looking at you.

“You know, if you really wanna run a successful business, you shouldn’t hire people that berate paying customers,” His smirk was sleazy, and it gave you the creeps. 

You simply narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms, “you’ve been banned, multiple times, and been told to get off this property those times as well. So what, what could you possibly want that requires you to break those rules?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “not for long, when you finally sign over the property to me.”

You could scream, the amount of times you’ve been in this push-and-pull situation with him. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not signing this property over to you! Now and your people can get out! It’s late and I have better things to do than to explain to a man almost three times my age that he can’t get everything that he wants!”

A fit of anger overtook your uncle’s face, “oh you little bit–”

Before he could continue, his hand raised up towards you, and a “Yo,” in a loud voice suddenly cut through the air. Everyone looked towards your right, seeing a familiar silhouette walking towards the two of you. 

“Dad?” Megumi called out, taking a step closer to see. 

Hands in his pockets, and a smirk on his face, Toji Fushiguro came through in between the trees, despite the cold, wearing nothing but a thin white long-sleeve shirt, and sweatpants, as well as a pair of sandals. It’s like the cold doesn't even exist to him. 

Toji Fushiguro, father to your employee, and ex-employee to Honeyed Orchards, the only one your grandmother hired when you went to college. 

As well as your ex-boyfriend. 

The two of you dated for less than a year, six months after your grandmother passed, by then Megumi was about ten years old. For a moment, you thought he would be the one you married, you established an amazing relationship with his son, considering that you were now his boss. However, the two of you end things amicably, after he realizes he’ll never stop comparing you to his wife, Megumi’s mother, who unfortunately passed away a few weeks after Megumi’s birth. However, he knew that he wouldn’t let up on checking up on you, especially with the number of times he had to step in while the two of you were dating when your uncle would do his usual taunts. 

Despite it all, your uncle was scared of Toji, especially with the way he almost tore apart his entire pack of goons one time, three months before the two of you broke up. Those three to four months were all quiet from your uncle until he heard through the grapevine that you two broke up and the taunts would start again. 

And now here he was, preparing to pick up his son and his friends for a weekend-long sleepover at his home. You took the moment to glance over at your uncle, seeing him begin to shake and sweat at the sight of the man who easily fought his people and can and will do it again. 

Toji stopped in front of everyone, “come here to get my idiot of a son and find a little rat and his pack of mice scampering around.” he smirked, his black hair shifting out of his eyesight. 

Despite his fear, your uncle puffed up his chest, before facing Toji, “this has nothing to do with you Toji, last I checked you and my niece broke up a long time ago.”

You rolled your eyes, shifting weight between your legs, taking a moment to glance at Megumi who only snorted while rolling his eyes. Toji, however, only raised an eyebrow, his anger slowly simmering and bubbling at the top. 

“Ha…? Didn't you hear me, I said I came to get my idiot son and his friends? This happens to be where they are, which makes this my business,” he hissed your uncle’s full name at the end of his sentence, “and even if he wasn’t here, Princess,” his nickname for you, “is still a good friend of mine. So yeah, it is my business. So I suggest you get out of here.”

His words held a steady beat but it’s obvious it’s filled with venom and vitriol. Toji’s anger for your uncle not only came from your dealings with him but from Toji's former employer, the only one to give him a chance after he was dealing with a moody ten-year-old and needed a fresh start and a new place. He and Megumi stayed in the very house you all stood in the back of for six months, while you were away at college until he could stand on his own two feet. 

There were memories for him that bore fruit here as well, and he’ll be damned if a man like your uncle takes that away from him. 

“Get out of here!” Toji’s words held finality, and everyone knew it was over. 

With a final glare, but luckily no other words from your uncle, he left with his pack of goons. Toji said nothing at first, making sure they were long down the road before officially turning towards you and the rest of your employees. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started but he shook his head, 

“Yes I did, but I doubt it’ll be over when it comes to him. Didn’t even know he was in town again.”

You nodded your head with a sigh, pressing your fingers against your throbbing temple, “yeah, it’s never a good sign when he’s back in Aquarine.”

“And you have no idea why he’s here?”

With that, you could only shake your head, before turning to your teenage employees, telling them to finish cleaning up, get their stuff, and clock out, as well as telling them to enjoy their week off. You gave Toji a short good night, smiling as best as you could before turning around and beginning to walk up your porch. Their eyes were on you, shining to the brim with concern, including Toji’s own gaze but you couldn’t be bothered with them for the night, tired after teaching a class piling onto a long day of work. This entire interaction drained so much out of you, in so little time as well. 

Time lapsed, and before you knew it, you were recently showered, hair wrapped up, and wearing nothing but a thin, old nightgown flopping into your bed. Your eyes were heavy, and sleep was demanding of you, yet your heart hammered. An eerie feeling with the arrival of your uncle, on the same day, you met a very mysterious man who piqued your interest quite clearly. With a sigh, you turned your lamp off, snuggling into your heavy quilts and comforters, before easily falling into your dream world, dreaming of dark chocolate eyes and blond hair. 

The next day creeps onto Kento like a spider carefully procuring its prey, once again he finds himself within the square of the town. This time, he found himself walking outside of the cafe, holding the same tea had drank yesterday. The time now was nearly noon, and many people were either at work or school, it was basically empty. Taking a breath, he took another sip of his tea, savoring the taste as he glanced back down at his phone, watching the texting bubble between him and his conversations with Satoru and Suguru. 

Satoru: bleh, I'm glad I'm not the one there, that town seems like a dead end. 

Kento: The only really interesting thing is the Orchard, 

Suguru: when’s your meeting?

kento: in two days at 1:30, but I had nothing better to do so I'm walking around.

Suguru: in the cold? Your gonna get sick

kento: I’ll be fine, it's better than staying in my inn.

Suguru: Hmm, tell us how it goes. 

With a hum, he turned off his phone, closing out of the messaging and pocketing his phone once more. Once again, he found himself here, in the square. The faraway sun did nothing to help with the cooling temperatures, as he held the same tea in his hands as he walked along the sidewalk. Empty, most of the streets were, as people were inside resting up in the heat rather than walking in the frigid cold for any longer. Kento took a longer sip of his tea, sighing as he did he continued to look everywhere and nowhere at the same time. The little sounds he heard were his background noise, the one patrol rumbling down the street, and the sounds of doors opening and closing shut as well. Kento couldn’t help but give out a sigh, a familiar feeling of tedium overtaking him, much like the days in his office. 

“Mr. Nanami?” a voice, a sweet one called out his last name.

Eyes widening, a slight gasp leaving his lips, Kento turned around, frost air blowing from his reddening nose, only to see you standing not too far from him. You smiled, taking a closer step toward him. You were wearing large black thick-framed glasses on your face. Your long braids were pulled back into two low buns, with a few curls sticking out of the style. You were wearing all green, a beautiful emerald shade. A pair of pants that were skin tight at the top and loose as they made their way down your legs. As well as a simple skintight emerald green shirt as well as a brown crochet cardigan around your arms. A smile appeared on his face, standing up to greet you in full as your smile widened as he approached you. 

He greeted you, “it’s lovely to see you again,” his heart jumped when your scent hit his nose. 

“Lovely to see you again too, thought it was inevitable with how small this town is,” your legs crossed in front of one another as the two of you were only a few inches from each other. 

You took a moment to lean to your right, your eyes landing on the symbol on his cup, before glancing up at him. At the same time, he took a glance behind you, seeing your hand connected to the handle. Behind you, he could see a cart filled to the brim, large, clear glass jars, and plastic bags filled with things he could not see. 

“Running errands?” He asked you next, taking a final sip of his tea. 

You nodded your head, “yeah, there were a lot more things I needed but couldn't have time to get, had to get back in time to finish preparing for the cooking class, speaking of, how did you enjoy the apple pie bars?” 

He thought back to the half-empty tray sitting in the middle of his inn’s complimentary mini fridge stuck within the drawer. Your eyes light up at his short smile, and your smile widens as he mentions the current state of the desserts he made yesterday.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed them, I definitely enjoyed creating the recipe,” you told him, pushing your glasses up on your face. 

Kento blinked, unable to keep his eyes off of you as you continued speaking, “Well, Mr. Nanami, I have to continue running errands, gotta prepare for the Viburnum Festival.”

“Viburnum Festival?” he asked, taking a step closer towards you as you began to turn away.

You blinked, turning back around with a bit of confusion on your face, “Yeah, the Viburnum Festival, there’s been signs for it all over town?” you spoke, before your manicured finger came up, pointing towards the sign Kento somehow was able to miss while taking his short walk around the town square once more. 

“It’s a town tradition, to celebrate the coming winter, we have one for every season, right here in the town square,” you said, turning back around, “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed any of the excitement for it.”

He was shocked too, he was usually much better at understanding his surroundings, yet this town, and you, have rendered his ability to do that nearly impossible. Squeezing the insulated cup in his hand a little, he looked at you. 

“Guess I haven’t been paying attention to my surroundings as much, this is the first time I’m hearing of it.”

“Oh then you have to come!” you exclaimed, suddenly letting go of your wagon filled with things. 

However, in your sudden excitement, you had forgotten that the two of you were standing upon some sort of hill, and your cart suddenly started to roll away from the two of you. Kento noticed the cart rolling away before you, you realize a few seconds later, not even thinking before taking a few large steps, his hands grabbing the handle before it could pick up speed and rolling away from things that seemed to be easily breakable as well. 

“Oh my god, thank you! I completely forget that we’re technically on a hill,” you thanked him profusely.

He smiled, holding onto the cart before shaking his head, “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“But back to our conversation, you most definitely have to come to the Festival, you came to Aquarine at a perfect time too. I promise that you’ll have fun!

He couldn’t lie to himself, the idea of going that sounded so crowded put him off a lot, but seeing the way your eyes glistened, wanting him to come to see what it was all about. His heart pounded underneath your stare and before he knew it, the words were slipping out of his mouth that he’ll come but only for you. 

“But,” he interrupted your sudden sequel, causing you to freeze mid-hop, turning your head to look at him, “you have to at least tell me what it's all about first, and stop calling me Mr. Nanami, Kento is just fine.”

The delight on your face mellowed out, before nodding, “I’ll do that, if you come with me to finish the last of my errands, Kento.” you teased his name, the tip of your tongue sticking out. 

And with that, Kento’s plans for the rest of the day were set. 

He pulled the cart, not wanting to strain yourself further as the two of you soon arrived at one of the few grocery stores within the town. 

“Usually, I buy all this stuff in bulk, but most of my shipments have been stuck underneath snowstorms within the north, so I’m buying everything in town until I can get them,” you explained as you walked in between aisles to pick up the different ingredients, herbs, and seasonings that you needed. 

“But back to the Viburnum Festival, it really started a few years after the town’s conception,” Kento listened intently as you suddenly swiped a few bottles of ground cinnamon into the cart you were pushing. 

“My grandmother was seven years old when it started, so it’s been a while, but the reason this town was founded was for people who had no home to find a home. So, to count their blessings, they celebrated each season that came to pass. Viburnum was named like that because of the little white flowers that would blossom during Winter,” you continued, swiping even more ground herbs into the cart. 

“So, there’s three other festivals that happen here? What are their names?” Kento asked, keeping his eyes on the back of your head as the two of you turned left to the next aisle.

“Um, the summer one is called the Marigold Festival, the fall one is called Aster Festival, and the Spring one is called Apple Blossom Festival.”

Kento couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the Spring one, “Apple Blossom? Don’t tell me you have something to do with that?”

You turned your head, and he could tell you were suppressing your smile, “maybe,” you winked, before turning back around. 

“It used to be called the Daffodil Festival, but when my grandmother started her orchard at such a young age, and brought a lot of money to the town, the festival was renamed to Apple Blossom because of the flowers that would bloom before the apples that would grow in the fall.” you stated, before seeing the tall wall of paper towels in front of you.

Squinting your eyes, you grabbed two different brands, lifting the two of them, and comparing them, before presenting them to him, “Which one?”

Kenot blinked, taken aback, before leaning his head down, his brown eyes glancing between the two brands

“Hmmm, this one,” he said, pointing to the one in your right hand. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking too,” you stated, placing the paper towel in your left hand back and putting the right one in your cart, before swiping a few more of that same brand into your cart as well.

“Since then, it’s been a reason for celebration in our town, and as it grows bigger, so does all the love that is shared.” your bright smile turned into a more mellow one. 

“The festivals were the favorite time of year for my family, especially the winter ones,” you said, the two of you approaching the front counter. 

Looking up, you waved at the cashier, who waved back at you, calling out by name before starting a short conversation with you. As that happened, Kento walked up, starting to immediately put things on the sole conveyor belt as it began to move. Seeing the movement, the things lining up but yo not making a step to move, the cashier took a glance to her left, only to see Kento placing all the stuff on the belt. The cashier said nothing, but she definitely raised an eyebrow at that, before scanning the last of the things.

“$567.74, is your total, sugar,” the older lady stated, Kento seeing you looking into your purse.

However, before you could pay, Kento was already standing right behind you, his card in hand, inserting it into the card slot. 

“Kento!” you squealed, but a smile on your face, “I didn’t bring you along to pay for it!”

Kento felt you lightly smacking his arm, and although he could barely feel it, only smiled before looking at you, “It’s okay, let me do this, as a thank you for explaining the festivals to me.”

Tilting your head at him, a smile appearing on your face, “I was gonna do that whether you came with me or not, there was no need for you to spend your money on lil ol’me.”

“Just let the man buy the stuff for you, sugar, sounds like he doesn't wanna take no for an answer.” the older lady working the cash register said, placing all the stuff in multiple plastic bags.

You took a breath, raising your hands up in surrender before taking a step back, allowing Kento to complete the last of the transaction. Kento smiles at your slight dramatics, taking his card out before putting it back into his wallet. Together, the two of you placed the last of the plastic bags onto the wagon as much as you could without anything spilling out. Only two bags couldn't fit, with no choice but for you to carry them as Kento wanted to try and make it fit for you. With all of your errands done, it was nothing for Kento to pull the heavy cart towards the Orchard, with you walking beside him once again. 

“How would you have pulled this cart with everything on here,” he couldn’t help but ask you, watching as the sun began to dip into the skyline.

“I could have pulled it!” you cried out, turning your head towards him.

Suddenly, Kento stopped in his tracks, an idea popping up into his head. Calling your bluff as he suddenly let go of the handle, before gesturing for you to pick up the handle and to pull. He watched as you glanced between him and the cart before letting a little “hmph” before handing him the two plastic bags you carried, before stomping right over to the wagon. 

Picking it up, Kento held back his laughter as he watched as you struggled to even make it move an inch. He watched as your sneakers slid against the sandy dirt, sweat beginning to drip against your brow as you barely moved five inches from your original position. 

“Okay, okay,” Kento cut in, grabbing the handle from you with one hand.

However, the sudden loss of stabilization had you shrieking, missing a step, and soon had you falling face-forward. With his other hand, Kento quickly reached out, his arm wrapping itself around his waist as much as he could, stopping you from falling on your face. You let out another shriek as you were suddenly on your feet again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked you, his eyes quickly scanning over you to make sure nothing was out of place for you. 

Slowly you nodded your head, adjusting your thick clothes, glasses as well, and your crochet cardigan. 

“Yeah, yeah thank you again, Kento, seems you’ve been saving me a lot recently, ” you turned towards him, giving him a wide smile.

He felt heat overtake his body at your words, pink blooming once again at his cheeks before looking away from you, nodding his head. 

With no other words exchanged, he handed you your two plastic bags, before following behind you back to your orchard. When the two of you arrived, you led him towards the back, where he suddenly noticed a lot of construction and caution tape around a certain portion of the house, in an area that was supposed to be the corner of the house, built in the middle of the side of the house and the back. It was obvious that it was new, the colors around it much brighter than the rest of the terracotta orange color of the house.

“What’s this,” he couldn’t help but ask, pointing at the addition to the house.

Glancing over at what he was pointing at, before smirking, “that is the Honeyed Orchard’s bakery-cafe, set to reopen in a few days.”

Bakery-cafe? Was this why you were offering classes, to promote the re-opening? He thought to himself as he looked at the building, seeing something through the window closest to him. Suddenly, before he could see what the interior was, cold hands came up and wrapped themselves around his eyes, blocking his vision. 

“Hey–” he started, but he felt you beginning to guide him away from the cafe.

“No peeking! You can see along with everyone else how it looks. Right now, help me put these things inside please!”

Your hands were soft, that was his first thought, heat radiating within him once again. What was wrong with him? He couldn't help but question, it was like his body was transported back to grade school when he would notice girls for the first time, and he had no courage to even speak to them, only placing himself nose first in a book. Disappointment rattled through him the moment you let go, leading him towards the back of the house. Together, the two of you carried all the stuff into the back, inside the kitchen. 

The first thing he saw was silver, lots of silver. Tall, rectangular contraptions, with glass doors, and in them he could see pastries all lined up on trays. There were rows of them, all lined up against the back wall. 

“Am I… am I supposed to be here?” Kento couldn't help but ask, turning his head to where you were only to see you approach with a basket in hand.

You tilted your head, an “eeehhh…” coming out of your mouth, “well no, but I trust you.” you pressed your manicured finger against your plump glossy lips. 

He felt glad at your words, helping you place the heavy glass pitchers and jars on the empty counters, as well as helping you organize all the seasonings and herbs. Soon the bags were empty and the wagon was clear of any items, so you easily folded up the wagon before placing it in the storage closet in the kitchen. 

“Wait, before you go!” you exclaimed, walking up to one of the tall containers, opening it up, before using the pair of tongs by it and pulling out one of the many treats. He came closer to you as you wrapped up the… what seems to be a glazed donut with pretty parchment paper, red-checkered with little apples dotted within a few of the white squares. Now fully, wrapped up, suddenly you handed it to him.

“For all your help, Kento,” you said, “it’s a glazed apple-cake donut, I couldn’t let you see the inside of the cafe, but I can let you have one of the pastries that we’ll be selling.”

He held his hands up, about to decline, saying he didn’t need it, despite his stomach turning, his inner feelings craving any treat that was made by your hand. However, the final nail was put into the coffin by the obvious rumble of his stomach stopped him from even saying a word. He blushed as you giggled at the noise, urging him to take the apple donut. 

“Th… thank you,” is all he said, taking the donut, pushing some of the parchment paper, glancing over at you, with a nervous smile on your face, teetering on the tips of your toes, waiting for his reaction. 

With that he took a bite, eyes widening at the soft riches of the donut, covered in the sweet brown sugar-cinnamon glaze. Before he knew it, he was taking another, much larger bite. How is it that everything you make tastes like magic to him? 

“I’m assuming that you like it?” you couldn’t help but ask, watching as Kento nodded his head, mouth full of donuts. 

As he ate, the two of you walked outside, soon ending up at the entrance of your fence, just as Kento finished the last of his donut. By the time the two of you got outside, the sun had almost fully set, the coolness of the afternoon now slowly turning into a frigid evening. Turning towards him, feeling your eyes on him as he cleaned his mouth of any lasting crumbs. 

“Thank you again, I had fun today, Kento,” you told him, smiling. 

Kento towards you, not wanting to go, wanting to spend the whole night talking to you, but he also knew you needed to prepare for the festival, and he’s definitely seeing you tomorrow. With that, he suddenly took a step towards you, reaching down for your bare hand. Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel him place a warm kiss on your cold knuckles. His heart was racing as he did this, he didn't even know why he was doing this. Something, a new voice within him, the same one that was guiding his actions today, told him to do this. When he gauged your reaction, seeing your eyes and mouth widen open, your free hand suddenly placed against your heart. Speechless, he left you speechless, and something within him blossomed at that, a smile appearing on his face. 

“Thank you for today, I had fun as well, and I’ll see you tomorrow, trust me,” that was the last thing he said, before turning around and making his way down the road. 

He began to make his way down the road, and after a few more seconds, he turned his head, only to see you still standing there, eyes slightly spaced out. However, when you noticed that his head was turned around, you lifted up the hand he kissed, waving at him before yelling that you better see him tomorrow. He smiled, turning around, before making his way down the road, back to his inn room. 

The first thing he noticed was the bonfire, huge, and in the middle of the square. Its red-hot fiery anger radiated a decent radius, allowing those who stood or sat near it to warm up from the cold. Kento tucked his gloved hands in his pocket, muttering “excuse me’s” as we walked past the group of giggling teenage girls who eyed him with stars in their eyes. Even so, he had only one goal in mind, keeping his eyes on the moving crowd, moving with them as they walked towards the festival. Above the entrance, he could see a huge banner, spreading from one side to another, with a black background, allowing the white, silver, and ice blue lettering and designs to pop out even more. He kept his eyes on it as much as he could, until he found himself within the town square, one fully transformed just for the Viburnum Festival. All around, different stands, showing off different games, prizes, and whatnot surrounded him. CHildren’s joy was all around, Kento couldn’t help but smile at a kid who won a huge plush off of some cartoon show he’d never heard of. 

He couldn’t lie, it entertained him, just how everyone enjoyed themselves, with no worries, and how families enjoyed themselves for just one night. A family… a bitter smile stretched across Kento’s face, the image of his father sleeping and drinking his life away, his only living family. 

“Kento!” His name being yelled out, broke him out of his trance, looking up and glancing around until he saw a waving hand not too far from him. 

His eyes widened as he saw you standing right next to a booth, a booth that currently looked like the busiest one out of the entire festival. He eyed the long line, before making his way over to you. Your braids were down, the French curls reaching the small of your back, while you tucked your hand back into the black overcoat you were wearing. Around your neck, you had a lavender-purple scarf wrapped around it. 

He made it to you, and your smile was wide, your pearly whites gleaming underneath the hanging lights the town put up for the festival.

“You really did come!” you exclaimed. 

A short smile appeared on his face as he smiled down at you, “I told you that I would, now didn’t I?” He said, glancing over at the booth, seeing the line beginning to get even longer. 

You turned your head, smiling at what Kento was seeing before turning back at him, “yeah, that’s not an uncommon sight when these festivals come around. Come, let me take you there!”

Before he could say anything, you had suddenly hooked your arm around his, which helped that his hands were still pocketed. You guided him over to the table, where he could see just what was happening. 

Seeing pink spiky hair, Kento could see, that Yuuji, the boy who signed him up for the class, took orders and money, while two other teenagers, a boy with black, spiky hair and a girl with a ginger bob, were handing out the orders to people, operating as fast as they could. Behind the three of them, there were three more, who all seemed to be getting all the inventory of stuff ready. Kento could see the wrapped-up donuts, tars, and even bottles of apple cider all being placed. 

“Wow,” he couldn’t help but say, “is it always so busy for you?”

You nodded your head, “yeah, this festival brings a lot of people from far and near, people who just want a glimpse within life here, people who used to live here coming back for a visit. It’s not a surprise for us, and even other places to be so busy.”

A whistle left his mouth as he continued to observe your booth, watching the flow of traffic flow. 

“Do you want me to introduce everyone to you, or do you want to go see the rest of the festival?”

He looked down at you, “don’t you think you should help them?” Once again, look at the line, “it’s a lot of people here.”

You waved off his concerns, “that’s what I pay them for, this isn’t their first rodeo.” 

The look of concern still must have not left Kento’s face because next you said, “but if it really does get hectic, then they all have my number, they can call me and we’ll come back running back.”

At that, Kento relaxed, and with that, you waved bye at your employees, before telling them to call you if things get too hectic for them. They all waved bye back at you, before focusing back on their work. The two of you soon intermingled with the crowd, walking side by side as you took him all around, showing off each and every booth, table, and open-doored business. 

“That’s Mrs. Prechitt,” you pointed to a lady who was selling pies while wearing… very interesting headwear. 

“Is that a pie on her head? Like an actual pie from the oven on her head?” Kento didn't think before speaking, the first thing he thought of was leaving his mouth. 

You muffled your giggles with your hand, but you nodded your head, “we tell her every year that it’s not safe, but every year she doesn’t listen. She does make a very mean peach pie though.” Your words were slowly overcome with laughter with every second as you could see the disgusted look on Kento’s face. 

Your other hand came up around his arm, holding yourself up as you laughed out loud. Kento looked down at your face, overcome with mirth, and felt warm, knowing that pink was staining his cheeks and it just wasn’t from the cold. With a sniffle, Kento saw as you picked yourself up, wiping your tears away with your gloved hands. Once you were composed, with no words, the two of you walked past her, waving at her as you did. Noticing you, her eyes brightened, waving back as the pie on her head moved with her head. 

“Let’s hope it won't fall on someone and cause third degree burns on someone,” Kento muttered, and you only shook your head, but continued to show him around the festival. 

While showing him around, your eyes landed on a booth selling funnel cake, and you felt your stomach lurch. The line, luckily, wasn’t too long, with Kento paying for your plate when the two of you waited in line for it. 

“You know I can pay for my own stuff, right?” you asked, grabbing a fork and a few napkins as he held your funnel cake in his hands. 

“I know.” is all he said, before handing you the funnel cake once you were situated. 

You looked up at him, smiling and shaking your head. A gentleman, he was, through and through, before the two of you continued walking, this time with your arms no longer hooked as you ate your funnel cake.  Still, through your bites, you showed him around the festival, telling him about each booth and how long they had been coming around. 

Lifting another piece of funnel cake on your fork, just about to go out in your mouth, before glancing at Kento who was looking ahead. Before you knew it, you were holding your fork close to his mouth, a piece of funnel cake slightly steaming.

“You want some,” you teased, your heart beginning to pace faster as you realized what you were doing. 

However, before you could pull it away, play it off as some kind of joke, Kento opened his mouth before pulling the piece of funnel cake off your fork and eating it. 

“Hmm,” he hummed, chewing on the piece, “not too bad, but it pales in comparison to what you could make.”

Your mouth fell open, looking at him, looking at, giving his own soft smile, before facing forward. Letting out a shaky breath, your brush with his sudden boldness caused heat to rise up your body. 

“Where’d all that come from,” you couldn’t help but ask, still trying to recover from the fact that his words and wink almost sent you squealing like a schoolgirl. 

Using your fork to cut another piece of funnel cake, only to hear Kento say, “just speaking the truth.”

Your truth is causing me heart palpitations, you thought to yourself, cutting another piece of your funnel cake with your fork, and eating it as well. Just as you were about to finish the last of your cake, your phone suddenly rang. 

You looked over at Kento, but you didn't have to say anything. You had to gently take your cake and fork out of your hands, giving you your napkin to wipe your hands clean of powdered sugar and oil as best as you could before fishing out your phone. Looking at the caller ID, eyes widening at the sight of Yuta being the one calling you.

“Hello, Yuta? Hey, what’s going on?” You answered, only to be met with a bunch of commotion over the line.

“Yeah, boss, you might wanna get down here. One of the customers threw a donut at Yuuji and now Mefumi is trying to hurt him, the rest of them can only hold him back for so long.”

Your eyes widened, “threw a donut?? at Yuuji??” 

You glanced over at Kento who looked stunned at what you said, before gesturing for him to follow you. The two of you made your way through the crowd, speed walking as much as you could without being rude as you pressed Yuta for more details. 

“Well, from what I heard from Nobara, before she went to hold Megumi back, that the guy ordered a donut, that’s what all three of them heard, but whenYuuji went to give it to him, the guy got into a fit, yelling that he ordered a tart. Yuuji tried to say he especially ordered a donut, but he wasn't having it. Megumi tried to step in, and that's when the donut was thrown, and now it's all chaos over here. Will you be here in time?”

Before you could say anything, you could suddenly hear loud rucks happening as you two got closer and closer to your booth, where a crowd was surrounding you. 

“I’m here,” is all you said to Yuta, before ending the call, telling people to move as politely as possible. 

However, a hand suddenly pulled you back, looking back and seeing Kento push ahead of you, before easily using his strength to push back the crowd, not even bothering to apologize, before leading you to the front to see the full extent of what happened. 

The first thing you notice is the absolute anger on Megumi’s face, as he struggles in his cousin's, and Nobara’s hold. Yuuju was standing beside them, along with Toge, who was trying his best to examine Yuuji’s eyes, which were covered but you could tell a bit of purplish coloring was beginning to bloom on his skin. Not too far from them, on the other side of the booth, was a short, stocky man with some sort of glee on his face, as if he took in some sick joy in the way Megumi was reacting. With him was a woman, who was recording everything, her words easily taunting Megumi, who only fell for it, his anger like a rushing angry tidal wave, and he couldn't wait to crash into the poor, unsuspecting people. 

Yut a was the first to notice you, “Boss!”

At those words, everyone turned, only to see you coming in behind Kento, “What is going on?!” Your voice is loud, and angry, with your hands at your sides.

However, before any of your kids could say anything, a camera was suddenly shoved in front of your face, the flash causing you to hiss as the bright light dulled your vision, spots entering into your vision. Your hand came up, trying to push away whoever this was, and you could barely comprehend the fact that she was suddenly talking about you and your “effectiveness over your employees,” when her words suddenly ceased. 

Blinking, allowing your eyes to adjust as you suddenly saw Kento standing right in front of you, holding the woman’s arm, with an angry glare on his face, “watch where you’re pointing that camera,” as all he said, before shoving her back slightly. 

“Hey, don’t talk to my wife like that–” However the man’s words were cut short by Kento’s icy glare, the man stopping in his tracks, swallowing whatever he was gonna say next. 

The immediate area around you all was silent, all eyes on Kento as he crossed his arms, before speaking, “Now, what happened?”

All at once, everyone began to speak, not allowing anyone else to even speak. You could barely hear a word, when suddenly Kento raised his hand, and just like that, everyone went silent. He took a deep breath, before opening his eyes, before looking over at your kids.

“Can one of you say what happened, only one, please?” he said.

Walking closer, only see Maki slowly let go of Megumi before taking a step closer, taking a breath before explaining everything that happened. She also heard the guy order a donut, her hearing a bit better than the two guys in the back doing inventory with her. She saw the commotion and went to intervene when she saw the guy throw the donut at Yuuji. 

When Maki said that, Kento turned towards the guy, who was now fidgeting, sweating, as if it wasn’t going as he expected it at all to go down.

“Did anyone else hear this man order a donut as well?”

Looking around, your eyes widened at the sight of the few hands, most of whom were at the front of the line, all raising their hands as well. Kento then turned his glare back onto the stocky man, who jumped the moment he was looking at him, 

“You’re gonna tell me all these people were lying about you ordering a donut?” Is all Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

The man began to stutter, “we…well, I mean, I mean no, but–,” but he was effectively cut off by Kento picking up this man easily with one hand.

Your eyes widened as he dropped the man right in front of Yuuji, whose eyes were wide-eyed in surprise as well, “apologize to him, now!”

“I’m… I’m sorry!” the short man yelped out, tears of fear streaming down his face. 

You couldn't help but take a glance at his wife, who was no longer recording, but instead shaking with fear at the sight of her husband. A bit of noise cut your attention behind you when suddenly two officers came through the crowd. Immediately recognized one of them as Yuuji’s older half-brother, who was very overprotective of said boy. Choso’s eyes scanned through before his eyes landed on his brother, seeing his eye, which was now slowly turning a dark purple. 

“Yuuji? What happened?” He called out, rushing over to be by his brother's side.

Everything happened within a blur, with Choso’s partner taking you and everyone else’s statement while Choso was too busy lamenting over his brother and arresting the couple. You let out a breath of relief as they rushed away, with Nobara and Megumi immediately going to take Yuuji to Ieiri, who had her own clinic booth in case of emergencies somewhere around the festival. 

Letting out a long breath, running your fingers over your face, and rubbing at your temples. Stress. This was all too stressful, with everything weighing upon you like a ton of bricks. With your uncle’s sudden arrival two days ago, and now your employee– your kid had an injured eye from an agitated “customer” . If you could even call them that, they were trying to write you off before they had even spoken to you. Your legs began to tetter, feeling yourself begin to sway back and forth. 

However, a force suddenly came up right beside you, arms coming up, and wrapping themselves around you, holding you up. Moving your hands, only to see concerned brown eyes staring down at you, Kento’s eyes were soft, not like in the frigid glare he had just adorned on his face.

“Are you alright,” his voice was quiet, as he guided you over to the closest chair at your booth. 

You nodded your head, taking your seat, “yes, I am, I just couldn't handle seeing Yuuji hurt like that. Oh god,” you groaned, remembering the conversation you had with Kento just before you left the booth

“You were right, I should have never left the booth,” you said, covering your face with your hands once again. 

Suddenly, you felt much bigger hands coming around them, pulling them away from your face. Kento looked at you, a smile on his face.

“You couldn’t have predicted an irate man with no sense or rationality to come and attack them like that. I didn’t even predict that, I was only concerned about the amount of work, and you were right in the fact that they could handle it.”

His hands enveloped yours, feeling his gloved thumbs rub into your own, “let’s not let this ruin our night, okay?��

His words elated you, a smile slowly appearing on your face as you nodded, before pushing yourself to your two feet. You dusted yourself off, wiping away the two tears that had begun to fall onto your face. Turning around facing Yuta, Maki, and Toge, telling them to continue pushing the inventory and that you’ll take care of the front. You moved to the front, only to see an off-white overcoat joining you as well. You and Kento smiled at each other, before turning to face the line that had begun to grow again the moment it seemed your booth was back in business. 

It was only an hour and thirty minutes, give or take, when you would fully run out of inventory. With that, Yuta deconstructed the booth, while Toge placed the boxes you brought them in the wagons you brought.

“The two of you should get out of here, the three of us can handle this,” Maki said, standing in between the two of you.

You turned towards her, shaking your head, “no, Maki, the three of you are my responsibility, I should have never left you alone–” but she cut you off.

“Don’t let that asshole ruin the plans you had tonight,” she cut through your words, shaking your head.

“We got this, plus Megumi texted me, Shoko patched Yuuji up and Kamo took him home, so he’s fine, and they’re on their way back. We’ll have more help,” she continued, before glancing over your shoulder, where Kento was most likely standing.

“It’s not everyday someone like him comes, you want him to experience everything, if you know what I mean,” she suddenly winked, nudging you.

You let out a gasp, smacking her on the arm, “I do not want to hear that from you, Maki!” 

She threw her head back in laughter, before telling you one last time to enjoy your night, before walking away to join Yuta and Toge in cleaning up. You watched as the three of them interacted, working together, smiling at them before turning around, and seeing Kento walking up to you.

Smiling, you held out your arm, “you got time for one more destination?”

Kento looked over at the three of them, before looking back at you, before giving off a soft smile and hooking his arms with you once again. You lead him away, towards your last destination of the night. He watched as the crowd slightly densified as he looked ahead, seeing a familiar warm glow get closer and closer. 

Before he knew it, you found yourself underneath the Bonfire’s glowing light, surrounded by many others, couples all wrapped with each other. Sultry, soulful music played through the loudspeakers as people handed out glasses of champagne, low voices whispered underneath music as Kento and you entered right back into the middle of the square, completely transformed from when he first arrived. Glowing lights were hanging across from the streetlight. 

The two of you soon entered from a corner, you two watched, sipping on two glasses of complimentary champagne as everything around you swayed, the people moving like waves in the ocean. 

“I remember one year when we came, and my parents escaped after a little but,” you began to reminisce, mixing into the crowd, “my grandmother was cleaning up, and needed help but told me not to bother them and find someone else.”

Kento’s eyes widened as he looked over at you, watching a wistful look in your eye as you stared ahead at the crowd. Interested, he watched as you began to sway up and down, on the tips of your toes, the sweet alcohol in your glass swirling within your hands. 

“However, I didn’t listen and went to go and find them,” you recounted that day as well as you could count to five on one hand.

“I slipped past the adults, and came here and found them slow dancing, right about there,” you pointed out to a certain area, where there happens to be another couple dancing right there. 

“My mom’s head was on my dad’s shoulders, and her eyes were closed, and my dad was looking straight ahead, yet would glance at my mom every so often, and his smile would get bigger every time he did so.” You reminisced, taking another sip of your sparkling wine.

 “That day, I stood there and watched them for over at least ten minutes, before I remembered that my grandmother needed help, and went over there to get them. I was a little scared that they were going to be mad. I interrupted their dance, but luckily they weren’t.”

Your smile was wide, but a bittersweet one, the memories of your parents before their demise weighing heavily upon you. The two of you were already standing pretty close, but he couldn't help but take another step towards, fully closing the gap between you. An idea suddenly spurred within him, swinging the last of his champagne, before placing it on the brick hedge wall not too far from you before placing his hand out.

“Dance with me, please?” His cheeks were bright pink, and he almost stuttered on the word “dance”, but still, he watched as your eyes widened, but still he saw that bittersweet smile turn genuine, before placing your glass down, before placing your gloved hand into his own. 

He cleared his throat, using his other hand to cover his mouth as he led you underneath the glowing LED lights, standing close enough to the fire so he could feel its radiating warmth, but not too close for him to consider it to be a hazard. His already pink cheeks deepened in color the moment he felt your hand slide up his chest, before resting right on his shoulder. His right hand slid around your waist, and then your two free hands intertwined, fingers locking together.

At first, it was all silent between the two of you, but the two of you were locked eyes, unable to look away from each other. He tried to keep his heart under control, but Kento knew he couldn’t the more he looked into your eyes, which steadily glowed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. His heartbeat only quickened when you suddenly gave him a smile, before suddenly placing your head right on his chest, looking down. 

“Your heart is beating really fast, Kento,” you whispered, but he could still hear you loud and clear, “do I make you nervous?” you asked him, slightly breathless, looking back up at him, your head still lying against his chest. 

His heart jumped at the sudden eye contact, and he suddenly found his throat dry, but his body language did all the speaking for him, watching as a giggle left your lips. You shifted your head, now only resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, still swaying against the beat of the music. 

“I’m really glad I met you, Kento,” you mumbled, suddenly letting go of his hand, him watching as you slid the hand that rested on his shoulder around his waist, your other hand joining you. 

With a now free hand, tentatively, it joined his other hands at your waist, suddenly pulling the two of you closer. He could feel your bosom pressing up against him, as well as every breath you took. 

“I’m glad I met you too,” he spoke back, just as quietly as you.

And for a moment, he couldn’t take in anything but the two of you, as if you two were the only ones here. He couldn’t hear the music, he couldn't smell the faint burning wood of the bonfire, he could no longer feel the bite of Jack Frost’s winter brushing against his skin, nothing. All he could hear was your heartbeat, which was pacing as fast or maybe even faster than his own. All he could smell was you, the fairness of red currant, and cinnamon, radiant and decadent, all-consuming. All he could feel was heat, not from the bonfire, but from within, pulsating heat that spread throughout his body, heat that was controlled by every time you touched him, looked at him and even spoke to him. 

He took another look at you, his final confirmation for the budding feeling within him, the bud that grew into an almost blossoming rose, and in so little time as well. Well, who could blame him? As one of his hands suddenly reached up, caressing at your cheek, your eyes slowly widening yet, you snuggled into the warmth of his glove. Despite the barrier between you two, he could still feel it. Tentatively, he began to bring your face closer to him, with you slowly pressing yourself up on the tips of your toes. 

And then he felt it, the feeling of sticky pressure against his lips, and it felt like fireworks went off within him. Your hands slid into his short, blonde hair, keeping him in place as the kiss deepened. You tasted sweet, powdered sugar, pancakes, cinnamon, and fermented sweet grapes as well. While sweet, it was not the temporary taste of what you ate that urged him, that spurred him to continue to kiss you. It was your underlying essence underneath it that kept him wanting more of you. Slowly, he got addicted, his other hand leaving your waist, coming up to the other side of your face, keeping you right where he wanted you.

He almost crumbled at the sweet moan that left your lips, as it was readily swallowed by the kiss. Kento could feel his lungs screaming at him, yet he couldn't find any other reason to let go. However, his reprieve yet disappointment was met as he felt you slowly let go of his lips. The two of you were heavy with breath, heaving as the two of you stared at each other, both of your eyes glancing in between each other’s eyes and lips. 

“We…” he heard you start, your voice as breathless as his own, “we should…”

You could not continue your words, but yet, he felt your hand slide right on top of his own, which still rested on your waist, before guiding it down, making him rest on your bottom. He already guessed what you were talking about, and that action pushed him into further action. It was much like out of a fairytale, the way he held you close as he whisked you away. Before he knew it, he was entering the corridor of his inn, his temporary place of living much closer than the orchard. His hand fished for his key as he pulled you up to the sole elevator. The moment the doors closed, the two of you were right back onto each other like the way two perfectly fitted and formed puzzle pieces. 

“Kento,” you gasped, as you suddenly jumped, your dress crumpling up around your waist, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding you up with ease.

He pressed you up against the wall of the elevator, his lips almost immediately ravishing your own as the metal box slowly lifted up, taking you and him to the floor of his room. The bright light of the elevator allowed him to gaze upon your face fully. He watched the desperation, your desperation fully blooming on your face as you kissed him once again. Said desperation was shared between said kiss, his body, and your own moving in tandem. Your hips ground into him, against the erection that pressed up against his slacks. 

Then a ding interrupted him, before hearing the door rumbling. Quickly, he felt your legs drop down from his waist, but you intertwined your hands with him before he pulled you through the door, his steps quick and brisk as he led you down the hallway. The hallway lights were dimmed to accommodate those who were sleeping, the creme walls and with the dark brown wood lining up at the bottom, gave the inn a sterile feeling, but it didn’t matter. Turning a brisk right, his free hand digging into his pocket, before pulling out the key that led into his room. However, his excitement and his hands shaking suddenly caused him to drop it, just before he could put the key into the doorknob. 

He bent down, but before he could pick it up, your hand came around, slowly picking it up, and holding it in front of him. Taking steps, using your waist to bump him out the way over so slightly, before grabbing the doorknob, putting the key in, and slowly unlocking the door. The moment the door swung open, it was like he pounced upon you like a wild animal. His hands wrapped around you, a slight gasp in the form of his name leaving your mouth before sweet giggles followed as well. His foot kicked the door closed the moment he entered the dark room. 

He dropped you right on the bed, before climbing onto you, enveloping your lips into a new, electrifying kiss. Your arms and hands came up, wrapping around his neck and shoulders before pulling him closer. Kento cracked in between your legs, the tightness of his pants pressing up against your panties. He could feel the dampness against the fabric, as his hands slowly slid up your sides, feeling every single curve and crevice within your body. His thumbs pressed girls right on your pelvis, while your hands slid from his back, sliding underneath his jacket, before slowly pushing the heavy fabric off of him. For a moment, Kento let go of the kiss, heavy breaths echoing into the otherwise empty room. He allowed you to push the jacket fully off him, revealing his button-down shirt. His hands moved towards your own jacket, your back arching as he pulled the jacket off you as well, before throwing it into an obscure corner. 

 “Kento,” you gasped again, “is this… is this a bad idea?”

He leaned back down, feeling your hands slide up his chest, before resting on his shoulders. Your foreheads touched, and for a moment, the two of you said nothing, just staring into each other's eyes. A flurry of emotions within your eyes, most of them he could not decode, yet the one that he could was need, and desire. 

With nothing else in exchange, it was like the two of you made your realizations at the same time, jumping on each other at the same time. Kento’s hands grabbed at your waist, before pulling you up, sitting up on his bed, and placing you in his lap. Your hands ran over his wrinkled shirt, before your manicured fingers fumbled away at his buttons, slowly unbuttoning it while still locked into your kiss. A groan erupted from Kento’s throat as you pressed up against his clothed hard-on in a certain manner. It rumbled through him, and he could feel your body shake through the aftermath as well.

Your eyes drifted down at the sight in front of you, eyes fluttering, your mouth almost drooling at him. Although his shirt was only half down, you could see his muscles bulging from his shirt the moment you flung his jacket off of him. What… What were you doing? It had been long, too long since you’ve been this close with a man. Especially one that made you feel… as coveted as you felt with Kento. In so little time, you’d been wrapped within him, in every sense of the way. The moment you peeled back his shirt, seeing his chest and arm hair peeking from the shirt, it was like something fully awakened within you. 

Letting go of the kiss, your hands fumbling with his shirt, desperate to open it to its fullest. Your foreheads pressed against each other, heavy pants leaving your mouths as you felt his larger fingers pull at the stretchy material of your dress, feeling cool against your legs as he slowly pulled up the garment as best as he could. Before you knew it, you were in your bra and panties, while he was half-naked. Your hands then moved to his pants, fiddling at the belt, the metal clanking into the room. Once the zipper was down, Kento lifted himself up, helping you take his pants off before watching as you threw them across the room. 

He took you right back into his arms, before pressing the two of you right into the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. You could feel his hard-on, pressing up against the thin fabric of boxers, aching to be released from its entrapment. Your hands fidgeting, you want to put them everywhere, his hair, on his face, you want to create crimson streaks against his back as he ground himself into you. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, and your moans were swallowed up once again by the kiss. The Kento above you was different from the one you’ve experienced, he was just as desperate as you, in fact, it was even more desperate than you. You could feel every needling emotion in his kisses. You wished to say that it was inexperienced deprivation but–

You let out a particularly loud moan, still muffled by the kiss,  as you felt his fingers press up against your clothed clit, his two fingers slowly rubbing circles against it, ever so carefully. Letting go of the kiss, watching his face as he stared down at you, his usually kind but tired eyes showing off that same depravity you felt within his kiss. His fingers continued to tease you, and you could feel just how soaked his fingers were becoming even with the fabric barrier. 

“Kento,” you let out a breathy moan, only watching him as his fingers hooked underneath the damp fabric. 

“So beautiful,” his breath was hot, as he let you go from the kiss, before feeling his lips beginning to press up against your cheek. 

As he began to trail down, you could feel his fingers pull the cloth aside, letting out a pant as cool air brushed up against your soaked cunt. Kento let go of your panties, before pressing two of his fingers in between your lips, slowly beginning to press circles within your pussy, his hands skilly sliding in between your folds and your clit. Your hands flew up, grabbing at his naked shoulders, feeling the hairs that grew out of his chest brush up against you as he slowly lowered himself with every kiss. His kisses felt as if they revered you, that familiar desperation only riling you up further. His kisses were now to your breasts, kisses in between the valley, still trapped within their confines. With his free hand, his hand slides behind you, feeling his fingers adeptly unhooking your black lace bra. The lingerie slowly fell from your shoulders, your hands reaching up as much as you could to allow him to take it off of you, also throwing it onto the floor. 

The moment his lips wrapped themselves around your nipple he also slipped two fingers inside of you. A loud gasp-like moan left your mouth, your back arching against the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, a hefty groan leaving his mouth, muffled by your breast. You could feel his tongue licking and sucking away at your nipple, while his fingers moved and out of you. It was delicious, how he finger-fucked you carefully. Receiving pleasure from two bouts of ways, an unrelenting euphoric sensation. You were soaked, hearing the wet smacking sounds echoing in the room, along with the sound of Kento’s sucking at your nipple.

“So– oh my god,” your voice cut through itself, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing up within you, right up against your spot. 

Your eyes were squeezed closed and yet, even with that, you could still feel the intensity of Kento’s eyes right on you. Soon enough, he let go, cool air breezing up against your wet nipple, before moving his attention to the second nipple. At the same time, a gargled moan left your lips as you felt his thumb press up against your clit once more, pushing up against it before rubbing even deeper circles against it. You could feel him groaning and humming against your breast, rumbles sending euphoric shockwaves within you. His thick fingers stretched you open, slipping in and out of your sopping pussy, your juices dripping all over his hand and your inner thighs. 

Slowly opening your eyes, suddenly feeling him let go of your second nipple, cold air hardening them even further. Bending your head down, feeling wet kisses against your wet skin as he trailed down from your breasts towards your stomach. Something within you began to jerk as he got close and closer to your cunt, your breath getting heftier as he pressed soft kisses up against your pelvis as he slowly pulled his drenched fingers out of your pussy. Lining them up with his lips, you watched as your tongue slipped out of his mouth, before licking up your slick, religion in the taste. 

You couldn't help the giggle that left your mouth, “ooh, so nasty,” you teased, sticking your own tongue out of your mouth. 

Kento glanced up at you, your playful smile widening as you saw his pink blush darken into a more vermillion red. Suddenly, you let out a shriek as you felt your body being dragged down, Kento suddenly dropping onto the floor of his room. Your legs were suddenly bent backward, another squeal leaving your mouth as you felt your body suddenly being bent in half, stretching almost past its limits. You glanced around, seeing your knees above you, and seeing the tips of Kento’s finger grabbing at the back of your thighs, pressing into you.

“Kento? What are you doi–” Your words were cut off by an immense pressure up against your clit and cunt. 

Your hands grabbed at the messy sheets and blankets underneath, trying to stabilize yourself as Kento’s wet muscle slipped in between your folds, and your clit as well. your body jerking underneath his actions, back arching up against the bed. Your moans echoed across the room, your head straining to look down at the way his head bobbed into between your legs. Kento licked and sucked away at you like a man deprived of all food, you could feel his lips suck away at your clit, before his tongue moved into your hole. It was like your moans and the wet smacks only spurred him on further. 

“Kento,” you moaned his name, toes curling while still in the air. 

You tried your best to grind against his face, but his grip on you but you still, all you could do was squirm while he ate away at you. Letting out a mixture of a breath and gasp as Kento slowly relaxed your body, letting your lower back slowly rest upon the bed once more. Through all of that, he didn’t let up, multitasking as he kneeled on the floor. With your back resisting on the bed once more, it gave you free rein to grind and buck your hips against his face, feeling the large tip of his nose bumping up against your clit,  inciting you even further. The long-familiar band of tightness begins to build within you. Your cries began to pitch, higher and higher, going up octaves as you felt a sense of convulsions beginning to overtake you. Kento did nothing, your actions not deterring him as he ravished you further and further. 

“So good, you’re so good, Kento– fuck!” you squealed as your hips bucked up into the air, against his face harsher than normal. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” you cut out, “I’m coming, fuck–” It was your only warning towards him as you let out prolonged cries.

With your last words, you felt the band that stretched within you snap, your back arching into the area as your juices spilled from your cunt. They would have hushed out for you, if not for the unsated man who placed himself in between your legs. He lapped away at your slick, a groan leaving his lips as he succumbed to your taste, your scent in full. 

Lifting your head up, watching as he slowly lifted his own from you, the two of you locking eyes. His lips and the surrounding area were wet, wet with your cum. With shaky hands and arms, you pushed yourself up, watching as he slowly crawled back up to the bed, back towards you. Like a predator, a high-strung predator, and is ready to catch its short-winded prey. At the same time, you began to crawl back, giving him just enough space to place his body up onto the bed once more. Kento soon towered over you, his hair damp with sweat, falling down in front of his face as his hands were at either side of you. 

For a moment, you two just watched each other. You could feel how much your heart raced at this moment, the organ beating even faster as Kenot lowered himself towards you, easing both you and himself into a soft kiss. Your hands came up around his face, caressing him and holding him in place once more. As you kissed you, you could feel Kento’s hands begin to move, to put things in place for the two of you. Not wanting to just lay here, you released his face, before moving your hands down his front, before messing with the thick, elastic band of his boxers. You could hear Kento’s breath hitch as you did so.

Glancing up at him, your eyes shining with concern, “Is this… is this okay?” your voice filled with trepidation because the last thing you wanted was to push him past his brink.

Kento looked down at you, before nodding his head, “it’s perfect, don’t worry.”

His hands were back onto the back of your knees, pushing your legs back as you pulled down the rest of his boxers, his dick springing out from its confines. You shuddered, squirming as his cock slapped up against your stomach, your eyes widening a little at the sheer size of it. However, you made it this far, and no matter what, you knew that you wanted this. With a burst of new confidence, you wrapped your hands around him, before guiding his angry, brown tip toward your cunt

“Fu–” your words cut out into a high-pitched, pain-filled moan as you slowly pressed him inside of you. 

Above you, you could hear Kento letting out sharp hisses and pants, his hips slowly moving, as if he was holding himself back. Your free hand reached out, grabbing his arm, gripping at it as you felt him stretching you out further and further. 

“Baby, baby wait, slow down, I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice was only a murmur, trembling at the way you stretched around him. 

Yet, you shook your head, wanting to take more of him, wanting all of him inside of you, inside of your pussy. However, Kento’s hands reached down grabbing your hand, guiding him inside of you, before pinning you up. His heavyweight and stretch only caused you to squirm, your body thrashing as you felt his hips slowly push in and out of you. 

“Kento–” Each movement left you out of breath, unable to speak anything but his name in those moments.

“I need you to relax for me,” he grunted, sweat dripping down from his forehead, “so fucking tight–” 

You took deep breaths, trying your best to relax, it had been so long for you since you’d had sex, it was basically like losing your virginity all over again. Kento soon bent down, a long moan escaping from your mouth as his action pushed further into you, yet you could feel his forehead pressing up against you.

“That’s it, baby, just relax, for me,” he continued, his voice low and calm. 

With a snap of his hips, and a gargled moan leaving your lips, everything within you just skyrocketed. A high-pitched moan left your mouth, and you could feel Kento beginning to pick up the pace. Your hands still pinned against the bed, could do nothing but watch him, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist, keeping him closer as he bucked into you. 

“Oh. Oh!” you let out, ecstasy rushing within your veins, feeling his fat tip press up against your spongy walls. 

“Doing so good for me, baby,” he mumbled, “taking me so fucking well too.”

Hearing Kento curse only caused your pleasure to skyrocket, a man as seemingly put-together as him slipping into dirty words. After a few moments, he let go of your hands, his own hands falling onto your waist, squeezing and holding onto his as his hips began to slam into you. A loud cry and your hands found themselves around his own waist, holding onto him as closely as possible. You writhed underneath him, your pussy sopping and drenching his cock, the wet smacks echoing into the room once more. 

“Fuck–” you whimpered, “harder, fuck me harder, Kento please–” you gasped, your eyes rolling to the back.

Your words urged him, and he let out a loud string of moans as he pummeled into you. More and more, deeper and deeper, you fell into him. Already, you fell for him, his strength, his calmness, like the calm oceans of tropical beaches, yet at this moment, he was a torrent, a tsunami, and you were ready for him to swallow you whole. All throughout, the familiar tight band, now expanded, began building within you once again. 

“Kento,” you stretched out his name, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck—” 

“You can let go, baby, don’t worry,” he whispered, his hands squeezing the fat and muscle around your waist. 

“Come for me.”

With his final command, you let out a shriek before feeling your cum spill out of you. Your nails dug into his back as your juices spilled all over you, on your inner thighs and even on your abdomen, as well as his dick, and stomach as well. The moment you came all over him, it was like his thrust became sporadic, thrusting within you aimlessly. His grunts and groans became louder and louder within your ear. Suddenly, he let out a lasting moan on his lips as you glanced down, seeing white cum spilling from his tips, landing right on your stomach. 

Nothing but the sounds of the two of you breathing, your neck straightening, resting right on his pillow once more. Slowly, you could feel the weight above moving off of you, opening your eyes to see a light in the corner of your eye.

Pushing yourself up, you looked at the light emitting from the bathroom connected to the inn room, seeing Kento’s shadow moving about within the bathroom. Suddenly, you heard water being turned on, out of a bathtub faucet, hitting against the porcelain. Slowly, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the icky feeling of Kento’s essence dripping down the front of your body. Approaching the bathroom, peeking into the cracked door, only to be met with steam slowly emitting from the bathroom door. 

You opened the crack a little more, only to jump at the creaking sound of the door. Watching as Kento turned his head, seeing you peeking through the door. He turned, in all his naked glory, before telling you to come in. Smiling, you walked in, your arms wrapped up around yourself as you walked up to the bathtub filled to the brim with hot water. Standing next to him, glancing at him as he prepared your hot bath to clean yourself from your activities. Titling your head, allowing yourself to lean against his arm. A moment passed… before feeling Kento’s arm lift up, the one you leaned on, before wrapping itself around your waist, pulling you closer, your smile widening. 

Once the tub was filled, Kento slowly led you inside the bathtub, allowing you to sit right on top of him as the two of you cleaned off the sweat and bodily fluids from your guys’ activities. With a sigh, you relaxed as you felt Kento’s large hands take a clean rag, before dragging it all over your body. 

You’ve never felt this… rejuvenated after a night of passion like this. As you glanced up at Kento's, whose focus was on making sure your body was cleaned up, you couldn't help but think about… what was to come for the future. Was this… was this only a one-time thing for him…? The seeds of doubt were already planted within your mind, after all, this man lived tens if not hundreds of miles away from you. He was here on business, and here you are, in his inn room… You took a deep breath, pressing your back into his front, feeling him place the bag onto the edge of the tub before tentatively wrapping his arms around your waist. 

For now… for however long, you’ll enjoy this, you’ll enjoy him… as Maki said, It’s not every day someone like him comes, you want him to experience everything.

Kento was a changed man. 

As he walked beside you, the day after, your hands barely grazed each other as you walked down the empty path. The town was quiet, recovering from the festivities from last night. He could see the lingering smoke from the bonfire as the workers continued to final parts of the cleanup. As the sun rose into the sky, reaching into the late morning, Kento woke up, hair an absolute mess, room scattered with both his and your clothes strewn everywhere, and with you wrapped around him, happily sleeping away. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the memories of last night came at him in full force as well. He could feel every little movement you made while your soft snores sounded off throughout the room. How you curled into him. usually, sex… it was a chore, something that only caused him more stress than to relive it. Yesterday, it changed everything for him, a strong connection in so little time. 

He wanted more.

Originally, he was supposed to be meeting his client, the actual reason for him being in this town. Yet, the moment he met you, he almost completely forgot about that until he saw the notification appear at the top of his phone the moment he woke up. 

“Would you like a tour of the orchard?” Your voice suddenly cut in through the comfortable silence as you shimmied back into your clothes from last night. 

Kento blinked, before swiftly turning his head towards you, “really? A tour? What for?”

You shrugged your head, “maybe I just want to spend more time with you, or maybe I just want to.”

He looked over at you as you shimmied into your dress, as he began to turn around, something within him pulling, something tugging away at his heart. lifting his arms,  He wanted to go, something within pushed him to go, he wanted to walk side by side with you as you introduced him to everything you hold dear to your heart. He wished to see your smile in full force as he took a closer look at tall trees bearing the pomme fruit with you. However, the thoughts of his prior engagement came to him, he was a man of his word, and he knew the tour would cut into the time of his meeting, the reason why he was here. 

“Unfortunately,” he could see the light in your eyes slowly fade as you explained his impending meeting within the next hour and a half, and something within him died inside at the spur of your disappointment. 

However, a sudden buzzing within his hands caught his attention, he would have ignored it, but his eyes caught onto the notification, realizing that the notification was from the man he was holding the meeting with. 

R.H : Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it to my meeting. Is it possible to reschedule?

Usually, this kind of thing would irritate him, anger him really. Kento had half a mind to kick this man to the curb and not bother with the possible investment. However, he took a glance over at you, the sun shining brightly behind your form, heat rising within him before looking back down at his phone.

This wasn't him, this was out of character for him, yet, everything lined up and clicked within his head. 

Kento: That's fine, we can meet up tomorrow at the same time.

With that, he shut his phone before facing you, “it seems my prior engagement needed to be rescheduled, and now I’m free for the day.” 

Your eyes widened, and your smile appeared on your face, “then… we should get going huh? Mr. Nanami?” you winked, teasing him with his last name

“I remembered telling you to call me Kento,” he stated.

The wind blew in between the leaves of the trees, carrying the smell of each apple as he continued down the path with you. His hands were in his pockets as the two of you engaged in conversation about the history of the Orchard. Kento could see it in your eyes, just how much you loved and cared for this place. You saw almost each and every tree being planted here, whether as a baby, teen, or adult. 

When the two of you arrived at the Orchard, you two were suddenly greeted by Yuuji, who still had his wide smile, even with bandages around his eye, padded with gauze, and Megumi, the black-spiky-haired boy who was in rage seeing Yuuji being hurt like that last night. Kento took a glance down at you, seeing your eyes shine with a multitude of emotions, confusion as to why they were here, happiness to even see them, and also sadness, especially when your eyes laid upon Yuuji’s impromptu injury. 

“Nanamin!” Yuuji waved at the two of you, while the boy, whose name Kento later learned was Megumi, only stood there, keeping his eyes on the two of you.

“Yuuji, you spelled and said his name wrong, there’s no ‘n’ at the end of his name,” you pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Eh?” Yuuji froze for a minute, Megumi calling him an “idiot” before softly tapping him on the back of his head. 

“Sorry! I must have misheard you!” Yuuji sheepishly apologized, a wavering smile on his face. 

Kenot held his hands up, shaking his head,, “no need.”

Megumi’s eyes shifted between the two of you, before focusing on the cart that Kento was holding for you. He insisted on pulling it while you walked to the Orchard. 

“What are the two of you doing here? I thought I sent you two and the rest home for the weekend! You’re not needed here,” you started, stepping closer to him.

“The rest of them went to the city, and we didn’t feel like going so we thought we’d come back here!” 

“He dragged me here, because he forgot that you gave us the weekend off. '' Megumi deadpanned, his arms crossed. 

Kento’s heart lifted at the dynamic between the two boys, watching as Yuuji sulked underneath Megumi’s words. He took a moment to glance at them as well, only seeing that same soft, faraway look and smile on your face as well. After a moment, the two of them looked over at the two of you again, glancing in between you.

“Say, since the Orchard is closed… Why is Nanamin even here?”

It seems Yuuji wouldn't let go of the misspelling, now using it as some kind of nickname for Kento. 

“Uuuuh,” you started, glancing over at Kento.

Megumi used that moment to take a closer look at you, glancing over at Kento, before his eyes widened, before a slight look of disdain appeared on his face, before taking a step back from the two of you. 

“...we ran into each other in town, and I wanted to give him a tour of the place, while he was here.”

He felt something impalpable jump within him the moment he felt your hands graze gains the roughness of his own. Kento saw you shaking your head, before pointing to the main house. 

“In the storage closet in the classroom, there’s a bunch of packages that Toge and Yuta were supposed to unpack, since you're here now, you can do that for them. After that, I don’t care what you do, just be safe when you’re doing it. I’ll add the extra overtime to your next checks.” The two boys nodded, with Yuuji giving you a salute before heading towards the back of the house where the packages were located. 

Kento gave the two boys a quick goodbye as well, when they disappeared behind the house, he followed right after you. Once inside the house, following you towards the kitchen once more, Kento spoke first. 

“They seem like really great kids,” he started, glancing over at you, seeing how much you smiled when you thought about your two employees.

“Yeah, they are. Everyone who works here is amazing… you know, Megumi used to live here too.”

His eyebrows worked as the image of the solemn, quiet boy appeared in his head, “really?”

You nodded your head, as the two of you reached the front door of the Main House, “yeah, his dad was the first employee ever hired here, and they needed a place to stay so my grandmother let them. They moved out when I returned from college,” you stated, swinging open the or after unlocking it. 

All around him, he smelled you all around, dissipated and deconcentrated, but it still smelled of you. 

“Sit down, and let me change my clothes, and then we’ll come and take the tour.

You pointed towards the couch, which he dutifully sat at before watching you go into the kitchen where he waited for you to change out of the clothes from yesterday. As he waited, he took a moment to look around the welcoming area further, leaning back against the couch and its cushions. The backlights that lit up the menu behind the desk were off, and the desk was empty, void of any life. All through the floors were dark cherry wood like the rest of the house, it was covered by a red carpet, mixed with other colors such as sandy beige and black, with different geometric shapes designed in thin it as well. He lifted his head, taking a glance at the walls, and remembered the copious amounts of books sitting on the shelves. Reaching out to the one closest to him, he grabbed one of the books. 

“Alice in wonderland…” he mumbled, taking a moment to flip through the worn and torn book. 

A few pages in he noticed scribbling handwriting within the margins of said book, seeing notes concerning how much this person disdained the Mad Hatter, your childish scribbles, seeing your name at the end of them. He smiled, as he thought of you, a little you, possibly reading this book, sitting on this very same couch. 

Suddenly, the sound of the door flying open took away his attention as he saw you walking through the doorway. Your hair was now all up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a full brown velvet tracksuit, with your hands tucked in your pockets as you walked over to him. 

“What are you holding?” You asked, leaning over to read the title. 

“Originally, I was interested in the story, but I found the scribblings within the margins to be much more interesting.”

Standing closer to him, as he opened the book, your eyes widened as they landed on your rambles as a child. You let out a laugh, embarrassed as you reached out, gently taking the book from his hands.

“I had a lot of thoughts about this book,” is all you said, flipping through the book, before closing it. 

Closing the book, before placing it on the shelf, before turning towards him and clapping your hands together, “shall we? I want to get a few things from the kitchen, and I'll need your help.”

With no other words, your hands grazed together as you led him to the back of the house. Standing in the main kitchen, walking past the containers filled with pastries ready for the grand opening of your cafe. You told him to pick a few, to have while you take him on the tour. Kento had an idea that you don't usually do this, but he couldn't complain, not when the apple donuts and apple custard tarts were calling his name once again. Kento already accepted the possibility of him getting a cavity the more he spent time in this Orchard. 

He helped you wrap the pastries in pretty, red-checkered with little apples in between them parchment paper, before putting them in the basket. At first, you wanted to carry it, but he demanded that he carry the basket, not budging as the two of you used the back door, going down the steps to enter the grove of trees. 

That’s how the two of you found yourselves, deep into the trees, while you told him the history behind the Orchard while telling him what apple each tree around him grew. The fact that you knew, barely looking at the apples currently growing, and didn’t even look at the signs posted near them. As he stood in the midst of them he felt himself transformed, the wind blowing between the leaves reminding him similarly of his grandmother’s. A bitter smile appeared on his face, his eyes on the browning leaves that slowly dropped with the turning of the season. 

You lead him further and further into the orchard, the density in between trees getting tighter and tighter every step. The already-faraway sun getting further and further away, the trees soon began to cover whatever light that could seep in. However, ahead he could see some semblance of what seems to be a clearing. His eyes narrowed, unable to make out exactly what he was seeing until the two of you arrived at the entrance. 

It was like a little paradise, with a small pond, with its own little waterfall as well, he could see little fishes swimming within it as well. There were marble benches not too far from the pond, each one having its own intricate designs, each of them different from the other as well. However, what really caught his eye was the gazebo, which was a bit away from the pond, but not too far. His eyes then went to the trees surrounding the little pond clearing and noticed how different they were from the other apple trees. Then, he saw the familiar red-purplish fruit hanging off the leaves. He looked over at you, seeing you approach one of the trees, reaching up before taking one of the many pomegranates off the tree’s stems. 

“Take a seat, I don’t show this place off to just anyone!”

Blinking, he eyed the gazebo once more, before approaching it. Walking up the wooden steps, he took a seat at the sole table provided in the open area. He placed the basket before looking at the full detailing of the cabana. Flowers were hanging in the open arches of the gazebo, peonies, roses, and magnolia all mixed to create a beautiful floral flourish. Whoever built this has a good eye for design, he thought to himself, before shifting his focus to your body, his eyes catching the moment you jumped up to grab another pomegranate fruit. 

“Do you need help,” he couldn't help but call out, watching as you shook your head, jumping up one more time. 

With your last jump, you began to walk over to where he was sitting, four pomegranates in your hands as well. Smiling, you took the space right beside Kento, handing over two pomegranates. With a soft “thank you” he took them before pulling the basket of baked goodies in between the two of you. You took an apple custard tart while Kento unwrapped an apple cake donut, taking a tentative bite, quickly savoring the richness of the donut, mixing in with the sweet custard glaze. The conversation between the two of you was light, with Kento asking about what exactly this clearing was. 

“I had the project started the week after my grandmother died, it’s like an ode to her and all her work. She loved coming to this area basically to relax, ro get away from my granddad or my mother’s nagging about her pulling too much weight for her age,” your snicker was contagious, Kento’s own laughter following your own.

“A strong woman in her own right, huh?” Kento pitched in, taking another bite of his donut.

You nodded your head, “that she was,” you hummed, smiling for a short moment. 

Suddenly, you shook your head frantically, “I just realize I’ve been talking about myself this whole time! What about you, you know, I never got to ask about what business you had to deal with while in Aquirine.” 

He shrugged his shoulders, a grimace appearing on his face, “there’s nothing to say about me. I’m from the city, and I’m a financial executive at my job–”

“Financial executive, is that just a fancy way of saying you’re the CFO?”

He said nothing, but his silence already spoke enough for you, 

However, your words interjected into the budding silence, “CFO at a big company, that’s not “nothing”,  now is it?” your words held a bit of teasing to it, nudging his body with your elbow.

His grimace disappeared, a half-smile appearing at your words, “I mean for most people yeah, but I found the job… well it was all I could do, given what I studied in college.”

“But you’re young too, to be offered such a huge role in so little time, right?”

“I was offered the job right after I graduated, so you would be right,” in the five years after he graduated and had been the top executive at Gojo, he’d never really stop and think about how much of an achievement that was for other people. 

He’s never had to explain himself, the people who needed to know about his role at the company already knew about it. The investors all vetted each and every person Satoru picked to fulfill the executive board of the company. To talk about himself, that was a first for him to do so. All he’s had to do is do the work, go home, and repeat, every once in a while, answer a call from his father, who at the end of the three-minute call would ask him for some money. The next app he was on was his bank app, requesting another wire transfer, lest he wished for his father to bombard his phone like he would do so before. 

“I’m getting the sense that you don’t enjoy the job as much as you want to,” you spoke up, taking the last bite of your custard, and brushing the crumbs off your hands. 

He blinked, but before he could even say anything to your statement, something yellowish caught his eye, right by your lips. 

“Oh you have something on your…” he trailed off, using his hands to point out the stain on his own face.

Perking up, your tongue flicked out of your mouth, but it was too short to fully clean off the area. No thinking, Kento’s right hand flew up to your face, his thumb poking out and cleaning off the custard dollop staining your lovely face. The action had a gasp leaving your mouth, staring wide-eyed at him as he slowly tried to retract his hands, but your own hand stopped him, palm to knuckle as you let him fondle your cheek.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he started, feeling his face blooming with heat.

Kento felt like a little schoolboy, no longer repressed of all his emotions, was what this was? He’d never shown interest in someone throughout his formative years, nothing but his father’s words keeping him down within his books. The feeling of softness pulling him out of his memories, his brown eyes looking down to see your hands touching his, a napkin covering your hands, cleaning the custard off of his hands. He looked at your face, only a smile, indulgent in its nature, on your face. 

“It’s fine, Kento,” you said, “thank you for getting it off my face.”

It was a soothing silence, as Kento felt his body beginning to lean towards you. He watched as your eyes flitted between his eyes and his lips before your own lips fluttered open. Your lips were barely touching, but before the kiss between the two of you could continue, a loud shout suddenly cut the two of you off, catching both you and his direct attention. Your eyes widened at the same time, before the two of you leaped into action, running towards where the shout came from. As the two of you ran, more sounds began to echo and bounce against threes. Then, you heard it, clear as day. 

Yuuji’s voice, screaming at someone to “GET OFF HIM!”

Your heart sank, something within you knowing that the “him” Yuuji was talking about was Megumi, as he was the only one that was with Yuuji. Pushing through the trees, the two of you broke through daylight, finding commotion happening in front of you. You could see the familiar fluff of pink hair being held back by a grown man, Yuuji trying his best to fight out of the man’s hold. 

“Yuuji! Megumi!” You couldn't help but shout, your heart racing as you suddenly saw black spiky hair on the ground, covered in sand. 

However, a hand came up, and pushed you back, suddenly stopping you in your tracks. Looking up, you had no time to see Kento shrug off his jacket, telling you to wait here, before rushing towards the man holding Yuji and the other one stomping on Megumi’s. 

“Kento!” You couldn’t help but yell, watching as he easily subdued the two men with ease. 

Honestly, if you blinked, you could have missed it. He caught the one holding Yuuji by surprise, wrapping his bicep around the man's neck, before pulling him into a chokehold. The rise caused him to let Yuuji go, who immediately went towards the grown man stomping on Megumi. However, Kento easily knocked out the man in the chokehold, getting to the man before Yuuji could, and pushing him off of him. That man, who was more ready for Kento, threw a punch towards him, but it was too wide, Kento was able to easily dodge it, before sending one punch towards the man, the force causing his body to twist almost a whole 180 degrees before easily falling onto the floor. 

Immediately seeing how the danger was over, you rushed over to your boys, where Yuuji was holding up Megumi, whose eyes were fluttering but still attentive. Your heart dropped at the sight of blood dripping out of his mouth, as well as cuts dripping with blood all over his face.

“Are the two of you okay?” You knew the answer yet, your heart still needed to hear their verbal confirmation, a step for you to calm yourself down from the ordeal. 

“I’m… I’m fine, but Megumi–” Yuuji cut himself off as Megumi suddenly began to cough, and cough hard. 

Your eyes widened at the gargled saliva mixed in with blood, spat out onto the ground during his fit, and immediately pulled out your phone. 

“Yuuji, can you carry him to the clinic?! Please!”

Yuuji nodded, but before he could, two large hands came in between you, you and Yuuji watching as Kento came in, before easily carrying Megumi, placing him on his back. Your eyes glanced at where the men were lying, only to find them gone from their position, only to see their knocked-out bodies. Looking back at Kento, seeing how disheveled his smoothed-back hair was, he was no longer wearing his glasses on his face as well. His clothes were wrinkled, and his shirt nearly pulled out of its tucked position. 

“Yuuji, if you don’t mind, can you just tell me where the clinic is? I would hate to leave her all alone before the police can get here.”

Yuuji blinked for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, telling him where Kento could find the clinic. With no other words, he began making his way down the road, Yuuji and yourself watching him. With nothing else, hoping Kento could get here in time, you dialed the Sheriff's number, knowing it by heart. The phone rang for only a short moment, before the line picked up, and the female operator spoke. Quickly as you could, you relayed to the operator what happened, and she said that officers would be there as soon as possible. You also told them about Kento, telling them he was taking Megumi and may need some help to get him there.

Before you knew it, three police cars pulled up at the front of your home, and the Sheriff included all surrounding the front entrance of the Orchard. Immediately, the two of you pointed to the knocked-out men, who were beginning to wake up. Quickly the two of them were arrested. For a moment, they had to separate Yuuji and yourself as they took your statements, each relaying exactly what happened as the two of you remembered it, Yuuji’s account was more needed because he saw everything that happened, while you only saw the aftermath. The two of you were stuck in the cold for a long time, talking and watching as the officers and the long crime scene unit within town took note of everything that happened, pictures, blood samples. 

Before you knew it, both you and Yuuji had been outside for hours, seeing the sun beginning to go down just as another police car began to pull up. Not even bothering to wait before the car fully stopped, blond hair exited out from the front, Kento making his way over to the two of you. The sudden sight of him overwhelmed you, your knees buckling after everything. Quickly, he rushed over to you, catching you with the help of Yuuji as well. 

“Megumi?” was the first thing you said to him, as the three of you began to make your way towards the house. 

“He’s fine, the doctor said he’ll be fine, I left as soon as his father arrived. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

You could only nod your head, Kento’s words providing you with a bit of consolation. Your thoughts flew to Toji, how it would feel for him to see his only child lying in a clinic bed.  Knowing Toji, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out exactly who caused this incident… 

Incident… as the three of you took your seats on the couch in the welcome area, ignoring the officers that would walk past the three of you. Your mind now begins to clear up, the fog of the events slowly dissipating as you slowly relax in the depths of your home. Now, you were able to think, with the confirmation that both Yuuji and Megumi are safe. The events of three days ago suddenly came into your mind. That day, when you and Toji both agreed that your uncle was planning something and that things were not over yet. It had been only three days ago, and now your employees are being jumped. Anger spurred within you, but no surprise, as you knew your uncle was exactly the type of person to send goons to beat up your…

Suddenly, another thought came to your mind, a thought that was much more grime and alarming. 

The Orchard was closed, specifically for the holiday. Everyone in town knew that Yuuji and Megumi, as well as none of your employees, were ever supposed to be here. The only person that was supposed to be here was you because you LIVE here. 

If Megumi and Yuuji weren’t here… hell if Kento wasn’t here…

Your heart began to beat rapidly, your breathing becoming slowly unsteady the more and more you thought about it. Too unsteady, as it suddenly caught the attention of the two men sitting right next to you. 

“Boss?” Yuuji called out to you, his hands coming up to your arms, “are you okay?!”

A large hand came up to your face, the feeling of rough skin and gauze wrapped around knuckles pressing against your skin. Slowly, your face turned towards brown eyes, “breathe…”

Kento’s voice was the embodiment of calm, the lull of his voice slowly guiding you out of your budding panic attack. Taking a deep breath, you could feel the hot tears trailing down your cheeks, but it was all you could do not to break down into short breaths and sobs. Kento guided you as well, taking deep breaths with you to help. Soon, your tears slowed, and your breathing stabilized once again, at least enough for you to open your mouth. 

“I…” you began, “I think they were here for me…” you revealed to the two of them.

Your eyes flickered in between them, gauging their reactions. Yuuji, bless his heart, took a little minute to understand what you meant. But, looking over at Kento’s, who’s eyes slightly widened in alarm, knew exactly what you meant.

“The Orchard is closed, and you were the only person that was supposed to be here, if everything went as normal,” he couldn't hold back the unease in his voice, his hands coming up and slowly rubbing heat into your arms.

Yuuji’s own face turned into one of horror, his hand coming up, brushing away his hair that fell in front of your face. A tense, and unnerved science fell between the three of you, with Kenoto’s hand falling from your face to your shoulders, pulling you in close. The smell of cool citrus and sage calmed you just a bit, your hands coming up, pressing them against his front, snuggling further into his hold. However, before either of you could speak, the door flew open, the three of you jumping before going to see the sudden uproar. Heavy stomps came towards the three of you, before eyeing familiar shaggy black hair and a scar on the side of his lips. Your body went at ease as Toji came closer to you, concern shining in his eyes. 

“Hey, are you okay?” He checked on you, Toji’s eyes solely on you as he pulled you out of Kento’s hold, his eyes scanning over you. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you assured him as best as you could, “you should be with Megumi, he’s the one who actually got hurt.”

“The brat’s fine, made me leave to check on you, the smoker’s with him.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes, but his hands slowly let go. 

Still, you watched as he looked over at Yuuji, making sure that he was okay as well before finally realizing that the two of you were not alone. Kento, realizing that Toji was looking at him, stood up as well. 

“Listen, I never got to thank you for taking my son to the clinic,” Toji murmured, taking a step toward Kento, before holding his hand out. 

Your eyes darted between Kento and Toji, watching in silence as Kento, apprehensive, stuck out his own hand before shaking it as well. The shake went on for a bit too long, both you and Yuuji glancing at each other for a moment before looking at the two men once again. Toji soon enough pulled his hand away, tucking it into his pocket. 

“So, have they figured out who did this?” Toji turned and faced you, “when I got here, the cops were still outside looking over things.”

You sighed, falling right back onto the couch, exasperated, pushing your braids out of your roll, “No nothing yet, but I doubt they’ll find anything right now.”

Yet, as the two of you locked eyes, you knew exactly would be able to do something like this. Your uncle’s grimy smile flashed in your head, remembering how he was surrounded by his goons while on your property. Slowly opening your eyes, staring up at your chandelier ceiling. 

The sound of the door swinging open caught your attention again, this time seeing the Sheriff, Yaga, coming through the door and walking over to you. Immediately, you got up, the rest of the men following as he relayed the situation to you.

“Some of the men took the perpetrators down to the station, but they’re not talking without a lawyer. We’re gonna go ahead and charge them with trespassing, assault and battery and wait for their lawyer to arrive,” Yaga said, adjusting his belt. 

Your body slumped slightly, but you nodded your head, “okay… you think the charges will stick?”

“Most likely yes, it’s very cut and dry and you have security cameras out there so we’ll be needing those too. We’ll also be increasing patrols down this road for the next few days.”

You confirmed that you’d give him the tapes, and after a few more words exchanged, you decided to drop them off first thing tomorrow morning, and with that, he left your home, hearing him walk down the steps and path and eventually driving away. It was all silent in the house once more, with you going back to the couch and slumping into the decorative pillows and upholstery. 

“This is…” you said nothing else, letting out a hefty breath of air.

Suddenly, you heard a beep, glancing over at Toji pulling out his phone and looking at it. 

“Smoker says Megumi fell asleep, and that everything still looks good with him.”

Suddenly, Yuuji stood up, exclaiming, “I need to go be with him!” 

Toji held his hand up, “hold it Pinky, lemme take you, Megumi will kill me if I let you go by yourself. Need to head back there anyways, talk about treatment plans and what not.”

Toji then eyed Kento, before looking over at you, “you trust him?” He pointed at Kento. 

You blinked, glancing over at Kento before looking over Toji, confusion shining in your eyes, but slowly nodding your head. Toji let out a breath of what seemed to be slight relief before turning towards Kento. 

 “Stay with her tonight, Blondie? Don’t want her to be alone until we learn all the details. All we know, they could send more goons.”

Your eyes widened, “wait, Kento you don't need to stay–” but Kento shook his head at your words, before looking over at Toji, nodding his head.

“Never planned to leave in the first place.”

Your eyes widened, looking over at Kento, while Toji nodded, before facing Yuuji and jerking his head towards the door. With no other words exchanged, Yuuji gave you a deep and long hug, taking a deep breath, letting go, and saying that he’ll be back tomorrow before leaving with Toji to go and be with Megumi. Yuuji waved goodbye to Kento, who waved back before walking side by side with Toji. The two of them soon walked out, silence following as well, before hearing Toji’s truck rumble before pulling out into the road. 

Now it was just you and Kento, sitting in the dimmed room.

“I’m sorry,” the words fumbled out of your mouth before thinking about them fully. 

You felt Kento turn towards you, his eyes boring holes into you, “why would you think you need to apologize? This wasn’t your fault. No one could have guessed this would happen.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, despair beginning to take hold of you. Everything came falling down on you, your uncle’s arrival, the incident today, and everything your own flesh and blood has tried to do to get your Orchard for himself. Your body began to shake, your hands coming up to cover your face as sobs began to heave from your body. Immediately, you felt arms and hands around you, Kento’s warm body wrapping itself around you. The room echoed your cries and shouts, but at the same time, you could hear Kento’s soft words, trying his best to comfort you. It felt like an eternity as the two of you sat there.

Kento soon felt you beginning to quiet down, glancing down at you, only to find your eyes shut, face still streaked with salty tears. Your eyelashes glisten underneath the low light as well. He heard soft snores coming for you, your body breathing in and out slowly. He sat there, holding you and watching your face soften, no longer scrunched up from the magnitude of stress you were under. Your nose slightly opens every time you breathe out, your chest rising with every breath you take. The moment he shifted his body, you would react, an incoherent mumble leaving your mouth as you snuggled into his hold. Your hands reach out and grab at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt. 

His heart jumped, before beginning to beat really fast. However, he knew it wasn't safe for you to stay asleep in his arms, so slowly he got up, carefully not to wake you. For a moment, he did not know where to go, glancing around the room, trying to see where exactly the stairs were that would give him access to the second floor. With grace, he walked through the back door, entering the kitchen of the bakery and gift shop, before seeing a wooden door at the back of the white room, looking very out of place. Walking towards it, using one hand to hold while reaching out the door, only to find the doorknob barely moving, the door locked. 

He cursed underneath his breath, before the memory of your keys, which he remembered being in your pockets. Kento fished them out, and he stood there for a few moments, going through each key before a brown, rustic one easily entered the slot, testing it and the door slowly creaked open. Kento was now faced with a dark stairway, with another door at the end of it. He then closed the door behind him, before making his way up. The steps were creaky, and with no light, he had to take slow and cautionary steps until he felt the point of his shoes pressing up against a wall, well a door. He reached down, and luckily this door was unlocked, before pushing it open. 

In it, he was transported to a whole new area, a place where it looked like someone was living. The walls were painted white and he could see different green plants, potted and placed in different areas of the living room. Ahead of him, he could see stairs, light brown colored ones with space missing in between them. It looked completely different from the vintage coziness downstairs, more modern, but the hay-weaved decorations and the plants, as well as the clean walls, gave its own version of coziness as well. 

Kento kicked his shoes off, placing them at the door, before going up the stairs. Upstairs looked like a normal hallway, eyeing the closed white doors, before his eyes caught onto silver. At the end of the hallway, his eyes caught onto a door with silver butterflies all traveling in a curve on the door, as well as gold entails decorated the outer parts of the door as well. He couldn't help it smile, it was so very you, in the little time he’d gotten to know you. 

Quietly, he approached the door, slowly turning the doorknob, and pushing the door. Kento entered into a smaller space, of what seemed to be an office, a cozy, intimate one. The desk was white, and you had both a desktop and a laptop on it. There were stacked books around it as well, and flowers within an old vase. Walking past your desk towards the pried door, where he could see a semblance of a bed. In your actual bedroom, the space was much bigger, your bed pressed up against the far right of the wall. You had a huge shelf, four rows, and each either had a stack of books, framed photos, or potted plants with huge, thick leaves dangling in the air. 

Approaching your bed, Kento bent over, slowly relaxing his hold on you, allowing you to slide easily into the comfort of your sheets. However, your grip on him was tight, despite your unconscious want to be in the familiar depths and redolence within your bed. With a little more force, he pried your hands off his shoulders, placing you inside your comforter before pulling the heavy blanket over you. 

He took a few steps from you, his aim to quietly leave you to get your rest after today’s stressful events. However, as he walked, something on your shelf caught his eye, and he stopped mid-step as his eyes widened. The picture was obviously a few years ago, with a slightly-younger you smiling in the image. However, standing in front of you was Megumi, who was even younger-looking, not looking a day over ten years old. He wasn’t smiling, which seemed to be a norm for the teenager, but his cheeks were pink, looking away from the camera like he was embarrassed.

And standing beside you, was Megumi’s father, whose name he learned was Toji, his arm wrapped tightly around you, look, a loving look in his eye as he stared right at you, while he looked at the camera. But that wasn’t what caught Kento’s attention, no. What caught his attention was the still-in-motion kiss that he was placing on your cheek. Your smile was wide, in fact, you looked like you were giggling in the photo as well. 

The memories of how Toji rushed to your side came flooding back to him, how he pulled you towards him, the exasperation on his face. Kento felt something within him break as he looked over the photo. 

Who was he kidding? Of course you and Megumi’ father had passed, after mentioning that he was the only other non-family employee to live here. That his son used to live here as well. To get his hopes up like that… he thought back to the night the two of you spent together… He didn’t even know what got into him? To get his hopes up? For a woman he met a mere three days ago?

He was hanging around Satoru too much, to be able to dream like that. 

Quietly, he placed the frame back down onto the shelf, before making his way out of the room. He closed the door with silence, before stepping right back into your living room. Kento eyed the couch, seeing the blanket resting on it, before sighing. No matter what, he knew it would never sit right in his heart if he left you all alone, after an attack like that. He walked over to your couch, swinging his feet onto the softness, before pulling the blanket as much as he could over his body. 

It was like it all came crashing down on him the moment he rested his head on one of your couch pillows. Like a weight double, his own pressed up against him, closing his eyes before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

The sound of sizzling was the first thing that woke him up.  The next was the sound of soft humming as well. A hoarse groan left his throat, as Kento slowly pried his eyes open, only to be hit with the smell of sizzling bacon as his senses slowly woke up with him. The moment he tried to move his limbs, only to be hit with a dull ache and pains, causing a pained groan to leave his lips. The sound of hums suddenly stopped, the sounds of metal clanging against something before soft steps began to make their way over to his body on the couch. 

He could see something suddenly standing over him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to blink out the sudden swell of liquid in his eyes. Once he did, he could see you, now well-rested and standing over him. 

“You’re awake, you know, you could have stayed in one of the guest rooms,” you said, taking a few steps towards him. 

Slowly, despite his aching limbs, he pushed himself up out of his sleep position, pulling the blanket off of him, “I didn’t want to intrude more than I already had, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Well, atleast go take a shower, sleeping on the couch couldn't have been good for your back. Some hot water will do you some good, middle door to the left of the hallway.” You instructed him, pointing towards the one hallway within this apartment-style home.

He blinked at you, watching your hands resting on your hips. You were no longer wearing the clothes from yesterday. Rather, your hair was wrapped in a beautiful, shining, purple silk scarf while you were wearing a huge black t-shirt, and thick, cotton shorts. Quickly, his eyes averted from your bare legs, ignoring the sudden skip of his heart, before nodding, not saying a word as he got up, his body easily towering over you before making his way to the hallway. He could feel your eyes on him as he made it to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. The bathroom was small and quaint, but obviously maximized the little space it was given. To his right, a little washer and dryer was there, where you most likely did your own personal laundry. It was smaller than he expected. Ahead he could see a shower behind some glass doors, slowly stepping inside before closing the door behind him. Slowly, he began to strip off his clothes, folding them as he went, and placing them on the sink as well. On that same sink, he could see a rectangular box of unopened soap, as well as a wash rag sitting neatly on top of it as well as a note from you. 

For you, Kento ♡

He picked it up, a smile on his face, some of his tension smoothing away as he placed the note to the side, before grabbing the soap and rag. Now naked, grimacing at the way his back ached when he stretched his arms up. You were right, the couch was not good for his back. Reaching for the water switch, the appliance was easy for him to understand as he waited for the water to reach a perfect warm temperature. The moment he felt slight steam billowing from the surface of the pouring water, he stepped in, holding back deep groans as the hot water began to soothe his pain. As he pressed the rag onto itself, spreading the water all throughout the cotton cloth, before rubbing the soap. His mind faded, going over every event that brought him into your home. Meeting you in the Square, following you home, watching you as you gave him your own personal tour, showing him a special palace close to your heart. The men beating up Yuuji and Megumi, the realization that those men could have been coming for you. Your grueling sobs. 

His heart clenched as the memories of your painful cries came back, how he held you until your sobs eventually turned into soft snores, your body giving up on you underneath the amount of stress you were under. How he carried you to your room, and how, 

The flash of the picture frame came back to him, of you, young Megumi, and Toji.

Slowly, he stopped washing himself as he thought back to it, despite his efforts to try and stop thinking about it. It was none of his business after all, if anything, he was the outsider, the two of you had known each other for years. He had… he had no business speculating on what was going on between the two of you. 

So then, he thought to himself, as he continued to pull the lathered cloth up and down his body, did his heart feel like this?

Once fully washed, he rinsed the soap off his body, making sure he got every nook and cranny of his body before slowly turning the water off. Slowly opening the glass door, he reached out for the towel that you left for him, drying himself off while still standing in the shower. Once mostly dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist before looking around. The only clothes he could see were his own, and he didn’t feel like wearing his stiff dress shirt once again. 

As he was thinking, a knock came to the door,  before hearing your soft, muffled voice coming from the other side, “Kento, is everything okay?”

Blinking, before he knew it, he was already on the other side of the small bathroom, reaching towards the door knob. Pulling it open, the two of you locked eyes, watching as yours widened at the sight of him. 

“Do you have any spare clothes I can borrow?” He asked, not fully gauging how you suddenly froze at the sight of him. 

Blinking, now realizing you weren't saying anything for a moment, calling out your name before waving his hand in front of your face. The sudden movement must have broken you out of the sudden trance. Suddenly, he found that your eyes were averting his own, as you asked him to repeat what he asked. Kento’s eyebrows quivered, but didn’t want to ask what was wrong with you, only repeated his question. He saw how you nodded quickly, before scurrying away towards your room, watching the door suddenly shut close behind you. 

He glanced around, before slowly stepping back inside the bathroom, not wanting the steam to billow and heat up the hallway on accident. He waited for a few moments, before taking a moment to glance at himself in the mirror, seeing his naked chest, how the water glistened against the hairs of his chest, arms, and abdomen. He continued to stare at himself, suddenly realizing exactly what made you freeze up right in front of him. However, despite that, he could feel a slight elation that he even made you feel that way.

Big, that was your first thought, your heart skipping two beats per second as you slammed your bedroom door behind you. Heavy breathing echoed through the room as you pressed a hand against your skin, the contrast between your cold hands and the heat bubbling underneath your deep skin.

He was so big… you knew this about him or had some idea of it, but his body was covered in the blanket of that night. Squeaking, covering your mouth at just how much you enjoyed looking at him. The water pearls dripping from his body, his wet hair sticking onto his face… Squealing, you smacked yourself in the face once again, before taking even more deep breaths, trying to calm yourself as much as you could. Removing your hands, you moved towards your closet, where your father’s old clothes were stored. Shifting through the chest you had placed them in when you renovated their room, you fished out a huge red plaid shirt, as well as a pair of sweatpants. You placed the folded clothes in your arms neatly before closing the trunk and making your way out of the room. 

The moment you stepped out of the room, your heart kicked up again. You took slow steps towards the bathroom before giving a couple knocks on the door. It was all silent, no response for a few seconds too long.

“Ken… Kento, I have some clothes here for you…” you started, only for your voice to trail off as the door opened slightly, a huge hand coming out from the crack.

“Thank you,” he said while behind the door. 

Blinking, you slowly put the clothes in his hands, watching as he took them before slowly closing the door behind him. You stood there a moment, a budding hope within you dashing when you only saw his arm coming out for the bathroom once more. Shaking your head, you turned around, going towards your kitchen to finish the last of the breakfast you were making for the two of you. On your neatly made dining table, you had a stack of pancakes on two different plates, your usual one, a pink heart-shaped plate that Nobara got you for your birthday, and getting out a handmade plate you made while at a pottery class in the city. You stacked three pancakes each, before getting the matching mini plate to Nanami’s before putting scrambled eggs, bacon, and turkey sausage on it as well. The smell of coffee still sitting in your coffee machine mixed in with the smell of breakfast as well. On the table, you had pitchers of orange juice, apple juice, and water as well. 

Suddenly, you heard something behind beginning to creak, turning your head as a tall figure escaped from your bathroom. You watched as Kento entered your living room, now fully clothed. Luckily, the shirt fit him perfectly, too perfectly, raced through your mind as quickly as it left. Swiftly, you turned your head before facing the small feast you made.

“Come, come,” you beckoned him, gesturing to his seat. 

With no words, he walked over to you, before taking his seat at the dining table. You could see him eyeing everything that you��ve made. 

“You didn’t have to make all this for me,” he said, watching as you placed two plastic pitchers of syrup, maple brown sugar syrup, and apple brown sugar cinnamon syrup on the table as well.

“I wanted to, to thank you for yesterday,” you smiled, taking your seat right beside him at the circular table. 

“There’s no need to thank me for that,” his tone held slight confusion as if he really couldn't comprehend why you would thank him for this. 

“But there is, Kento. Don’t worry about it, just eat, please? For me?” You smiled at him, picking up your fork. 

You waited for him to pick up his fork and knife, seeing him quietly say thanks to the food before beginning to dig in the food. At first, it was all quiet, but your eyes were on Kento as he took a bite out of his sliced pancake, after he poured the maple syrup onto it. You watched as his eyes lit up, before he took a bigger slice of teh pancake, drenched in syrup and butter before eating it in one go as well. You then focused on your food, a quiet yet warm silence between the two of you, the two of you preferred not to speak while you ate your breakfast. The sounds of knives grating into the plate and the muffled sounds of chewing were all you could hear as you ate your pancakes and eggs.

However, as breakfast began to disappear, conversation picked up between the two of you, no longer wishing for the silence between the two of you. Giving him a hypothetical question, (would you rather travel to the future, or to the past?) The two of you argued your own points, with you wanting to go to the future while he wished to go to the past. As the conversation continued, the two had long finished your breakfast, with you getting up and wanting to clean up, but Kento made you sit down, taking your plate. You watched, a smile curling on your face as Kento washed your plates and cups with ease. However, not wanting to stay stagnant, you cleaned up the syrup and pitchers of juice you had, placing them back in your fridge. When everything from breakfast was clean, the two of you approached your couch, wanting to relax. 

“Okay, but if you go back to the past, you’re just seeing things you’ve already seen, even if you wanna change it. I think going to the future to see what you become is much better,” you argued, sitting down on the couch. 

Kento opened his mouth, about to argue back, when all of sudden, a ping caught both your and his attention. Putting your water bottle down, you patted yourself down for your phone before remembering that you left it in your room, looking back at Nanami as he pulled his phone out of the sweatpants pocket. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed down, squirting at whatever popped up on his phone. 

“Everything okay, Kento?” you asked him, taking a sip of your water bottle.

After a beat, he nodded his head, his thumb tapping away at the screen, “The person I'm supposed to be meeting with just messaged me. Saying “he’s excited about the meeting and hopes I’m ready for the offer he’s about to make me.”

Right. The meeting. The whole reason he was here in this small town, to begin with. Yesterday, he was supposed to meet up with this mystery person but they rescheduled the meeting, which allowed Kento to follow you to the Orchard, giving him a personal tour of everything. 

You hummed, glancing between him and his phone, “do you… do you know what kind of offer this person is about to make you? You don’t have to tell me, either.”

Kento shook his head, “it’s fine, because I don’t even know what it’s about. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my boss.”

“Your boss? What, did he send you on a wild goose chase?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Kento grumbled, looking away with a grimace on his face.

The look caused you to giggle, covering your head with your face. He heard the sound, looking over at you. However, after laughing, and thinking about Kento’s meeting situation, something within you rang off, confusion striking you for a bit. 

“Wait, so then why did you have to meet him? And not someone under you or even your boss? This is his idea, after all?” 

Kento sighed, placing his large hand against his forehead, “I don’t know why he does half the shit he does, but to answer your question, I was doing business in the city nearby, and he asked me to go and see if this was something to look into more.”

“Ohhh,” you stretched out, taking another sip of water, “so you were just convenient.”

You suppressed your smile as he froze midst taking a sip of his own water bottle, his eyes shifting over to look at you. After a beat of silence, you couldn't hold back your laughter, throwing your head back at the way he reacted to your words. 

“I’m…” laughter, “oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you tried to speak, but your laughter obviously gave away your true feelings. 

He didn’t say anything, but instead a small appeared at the sound of your laughter as he took another sip of shi water. 

“It’s fine, I’m thinking of rescheduling again after everything that happened yesterday–” he started but you cut in, your back straightening up in alarm

“Oh no, don't do that! I’ll be fine,” you said, shaking your head at him, “there’s no need to reschedule! Go to your meeting! It’s the reason you came here in the first place, right?”

He looked over at you, “but to leave you all alone after everything–” but once again, you cut in

“I’ll be fine, Yaga increased patrols around here and I’m sure no one will try anything for the time you’re gone. My other kids should be back from their trip to the city and when they hear about this, I’m sure they’ll come rushing over.” You assured him. 

Kento’s face twisted, tucking his phone into his pocket, “Are you sure?”

You nodded your head, getting up, before reaching for him, “it’s fine, it’s fine,” you reiterated. 

As you began to push him at the door, he suddenly stopped, almost knocking you over. He turned to look at you, watching as you stood up from nearly falling onto the wooden floor. 

“At least give me your number, so I know you can reach me.”

Your eyes widened when he said that, watching as his eyes intensified. Heart kicked up, and your throat went dry, you nodded your head, before telling him to wait here. Scurrying away like a little cute mouse, you swiped your phone off of your bed before going toward him once again. The two of you exchanged numbers, and Kento reiterated that you should call him if anything happens. With your final confirmation, he grabbed his bag of clothes, and the two of you made your way down the stairs of your apartment into the huge bakery kitchen, to the front of the house. 

“Thank you again, for everything Kento,” your words were soft as you looked up at him. 

The afternoon frost was nipping at your skin but didn't bother either of you as he stood amid the doorway.

“Like I said, there was no need to thank me, I’m just glad to have been there. Who knows what could have happened to you,” his hand came up, pushing the lone braid in your face away, allowing him to see your gorgeous smile. 

Looking up at him, an inexplicable amount of courage suddenly crushed through you. Reaching up to the tips of your toes, your lips suddenly pressed themselves against his cheek, leaving a soft and slightly long kiss on them. Your heart was beating in between your ears, and nervous heat was erupting underneath your skin, but you didn’t regret it, watching as Kento’s eyes widened at the sudden smooch placed on his face. You could see pink surging all across his face as he turned to look over at you. 

“That’s for good luck, with your meeting as well,” you said, leaning against the open door, one hand on the doorknob. 

“Tha… thank you,” is all he could say before turning around, taking the few stairs down for the front of your porch.

You watched with a smile on your face as he walked away, waiting until he was a bit way down the road, before closing the door behind you. The moment the door closed, a loud sequel flew out of your mouth, your back hitting the door. Covering your face as you slowly, slide down, 

“Why did I do that?!” you screamed at yourself, your body twisting in turning under an amalgamation of nervousness and embarrassment.

“Please stop,” Megumi deadpanned, pushing you away as much as he could while you took a wet rag to his face, cleaning off all the grime on his face. 

“Well, I can’t just leave you looking like that,” you exclaimed, taking a seat beside his hospital bed. 

 Thirty minutes after Kento left, you decided to go and visit Megumi while at the clinic. In your hands held a basket of treats, including two slices of apple-rum cake, Megumi’s favorite dessert. Yuuji and Nobara were sitting on the other side, leaning onto the bed as they indulged in the apple tarts that you brought along as well. 

“I hear that a certain someone came here with treats,” a voice called out, as the door slammed open. 

You turned around, smiling as your eyes landed on a familiar figure. Iori walked in, a smile on her face as she faced you. Squealing, you stood up before wrapping your arms around her, sighing as she hugged you back, the two of you rocking. Utahime’s business kept her out of town a lot, so it wasn’t often you would get to see her. 

“How long are you back in town! I didn’t even know you came back?!” Exclaimed, guiding her to the empty chair that Ieiri suddenly brought for her. 

“You knew I couldn’t miss the cafe opening for the world! I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I heard what happened?!” Her face took on one of concern, her hand racing out towards your hand as she turned her eyes glancing over at Megumi before looking at you once again. 

Your wide smile lessened a bit, “yeah, but everyone’s okay, I’m just glad no one seriously hurt.”

“But sending goons, to do god knows what? It’s all too much,” she said, crossing her arms. 

You shook your head, sighing, “yeah, but all we can do is move on, hopefully the cops can find out that he’s even connected to this. However, I know him, and he’s somehow gonna get out of it.”

Utahime tutted, shaking her one more time, but then, her downturned face suddenly lifted, her red lips turning into a smirk, her eyes moving onto you. Seeing her expression, your eyes furrow down in confusion. 

“...what?” you couldn't help but ask.

“...I heard a little rumor that you were shacking up with a random blond man, you wanna… go into detail about that?”

Your eyes widened, and your heart raced, pumping up, as you looked away from him, suppressing your smile, “... no… I don’t know what you talking about,” you fibbed, twirling with one of your braids, looking everywhere but at her.

She shook her head, “uuh-uh, nope, you don’t get to hide from me, little one! Who is he, what’s his name, and occupation, and where did you even meet him?”

You weren't going to say anything, but Yuuji, oh bless his heart, decided to drop in, hearing the conversation. 

“His name is Nanami, and they met at one of the cooking classes she teaches!” His smile was wide too.

Iori shrieked again, “Ugh, how could you not have told me this?!” She looked over at both Megumi, Npbara and Yuuji. 

Megumi only shrugged, “we had met him yesterday at the festival, and today as well, you know before,” he cut himself off by suddenly gesturing to himself, and his beaten-up body. 

“We did not shack up together,” you lied your ass off, “did he spend the night at my place? Yes! But that was because of everything that happened! We had only met a few days ago!” You turned around to look at her, crossing your arms as well. 

“Still, that doesn’t mean anything can’t happen, either way, tell me more about him!” She cheesed in your face, just as Ierei walked in, smelling like smoke. 

Sighed, but still, you turned towards her with a smile on your face, “he’s not from here, first of all.”

“I could tell from the fact that no one knew his name, but continue.”

The conversation delved between the two of you, talking about you and Kento, with Yuuji, Nobara, and Shoko listening intently. Utahime squealed as you told her about how quickly he acted the moment Yuuji and Megumi were in trouble as well. 

“Aah, he sounds like the perfect gentleman, and he’s rich too? If you ever get tired of the small-town life…” she nudged your side, winking at you as well. 

Despite your smile, you shook your head, “doubt it, I love it here.”

“So what, you’ll think he’ll move down here for you…?” she trailed off, leaning back slightly. 

“Remember that I’ve barely known this man for little more than a week,” you said, “he’s not gonna drop his cushy, CFO job in the city for a little town like this. For someone he just met too.”

She waved a finger in your face, “never say never! This could be it for you!”

Her words caused a slightly elated feeling within you. You couldn't help but think about it, how domestic the two of you felt. The idea of the two of you cooking together, and eating breakfast together as well. The sight of him in the clothes you gave him, how they fitted perfectly on him as well. Could it… could it really happen? 

Your head jerked slightly, looking up as you felt eyes on you, all five people in the room staring down at you. Pushing Iori’s finger out of your face, you shook your head, 

“I doubt it, anyways, I have to go, I need to start preparing for the Orchard’s opening, with the new cafe and everything."

Toji glared down at his phone, crossing through the various emails popping up on his phone. It took all of him not to curse out every one of his clients, to tell them that his son was hurt and that he couldn’t give two shits about the different color wallpaper they didn’t want in their homes. In his hands was a plastic bag, stacked with three takeout trays from one of the few restaurants around here, which also happens to be his brat’s favorite as well. He walked through the square, hoping to get there in time before she had to hear Megumi complain about being hungry.

Megumi… his only pride, and his blessing. 

His heart dropped when he got the call from the Smoker, and that the police had dropped off his son who had been beaten up profusely, as well as a random man. Luckily, he had already been driving back home from the city, in fact, he was on his way to you, because he knew Megumi was there. His heart had only felt like that two times in his life, 

When Megumi was born and when his wife died. 

True terror, and true fear. 

When he arrived, Megumi was somewhat awake, and a blonde man, with stern eyes and stress lines was waiting outside his door. This was Toji’s first time seeing someone like this, and in a town like this, it’s very hard to have never met someone before. 

“Who’re you?” Toji’s gruff voice came out, aching.

The blond stood up, holding out his hand, before introducing himself as Kento Nanami. Despite his respite, he shook the man’s hand, as this was the person who got his son to safety. Toji wondered how he got to his son, and Nanami, as quickly as he could explain before he left, that two men had suddenly come onto your property, and attacked both Megumi and Yuuji, with Megumi getting the brunt of the attack. Toji’s fear slowly dissipated when the Smoker came out and explained that Megumi was just gonna be fine, his ribs were bruised, and had no sustained injuries on his abdomen or stomach. His fear would slowly turn into angry– no– rage, as he realized that this attack on his son was no mere coincidence. It felt as if magma was boiling within his veins, 

Just a few days after your uncle’s sudden appearance? A man who knows no bounds when it comes to getting your orchard. 

The moment he was allowed into Megumi’s room, he was promptly kicked right out. 

“What are you doing here?!” Megumi had yelled at him, telling Toji that he needed to go be with you. 

Toji told him, in their usual banter, that unless things had changed, he was still his father. However, in his anger, he had failed to realize just how dangerous this attack was. Megumi had to be the one to tell him that the only person that was supposed to be in that Orchard was you. That everyone knew the Orchard would be closing for the holiday weekend. That if Yuuji and Megumi weren’t there, the only person those men could have been searching for, was you. You were their original target. 

With one more push from Megumi, he was already out of there, getting in his truck and making his way towards you. The moment he got there, he could see the few cops crawling around, talking and making their notes, along with the one crime scene unit. With an all clear from Yaga, he made his way towards your house, busting through the door, before hearing movement to his right. Entering the space, he was faced with three people, you, Megumi’s friend Yuuji, and the very same blonde man who had come to the clinic with his son. He saw how his arms were wrapped up around you, and he couldn't lie, something within him jerked, seeing how close he was to you. 

Quickly as he came in, he came over to you, pulling you out of his hold, his eyes rapidly looking over you, making sure that there were no cuts, scraps, and bruises on you. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked you

You smiled, oh your smile, one of the few things that could ease his aching, “I’m fine, I’m fine. You should be with Megumi, he’s the one who actually got hurt.” You told him

Toji shook his head, slowly letting you go, “The brat’s fine, made me leave to check on you, the smoker’s with him.”

You said nothing at that, but it didn’t matter, as his eyes fluttered over to Yuuji, who looked a little roughed up himself, but otherwise fine. Then, his eyes went over him, Nanami, the one who carried his son until police cars came and picked them up and took them to the clinic. According to Yaga, before he came inside, he was the one to fight off the intruders, saving both his son’s life and your own as well. 

Despite everything he felt, he knew he owed this man a great debt. He walked over, holding out his hand, “Listen, I never got to thank you for taking my son to the clinic,” his voice came out in a mumble, yet everyone looked like they heard him. 

Nanami glanced down at his hand, before slowly reaching out enveloping his own hand as well. Their hands were similar sizes, and the handshake was stern, a good one as well. The two of them locked eyes, narrowed as their hands continued to shake up and down. No more words were exchanged between the two of them, all being said within that singular gesture. 

Toji was the first to let go, slowly pulling his hand back before putting it back into his pocket. He then turned to look at you, seeing Yuuji and yourself turning away from each other before looking at the two of them once again. 

“So, have they figured out who did this?” Toji questioned, “when I got here, the cops were still outside looking over things.”

The reminder caused your body to slump over, a downhearted look on your face as you sat back down on the couch. Almost immediately, Nanami placed his hands on your own, Toji’s eyes glancing in between you, who was taking a deep breath, and him, who kept his eyes solely on you. 

“Not yet,” you started, “but I doubt that they’ll find anything now.”

Yet, your eyes glanced over at Toji with a glowering emotion, and he knew exactly what that meant. The two of you both knew who exactly would be the type of person to send goons to your home. He remembers how he strolled up to the back, seeing the slimy smile on your uncle’s face as he spoke to you, and how seconds away Megumi was from attacking but he was surrounded by his people as well. That wasn’t a problem for Toji, as he forced the men to leave the property. Deep down, he knew that the problem was not over, it never truly was. The moment your grandmother died, and left everything to you, it would be an endless battle until either one of you died. 

The sound of the door opening took his attention, turning around only seeing the familiar tall form of Sheriff Yaga walking into the home. He spotted the four of you, making his way over as incoherent noises came from the radio he wore on his person at all times. Toji felt movement, looking to his left, only to see you getting up, and making your way towards Yaga. 

Immediately, he began speaking, “Some of the men took the perpetrators down to the station, but they’re not talking without a lawyer. We’re gonna go ahead and charge them with trespassing, assault and battery and wait for their lawyer to arrive.”

A lawyer? Huh, seems like your uncle has this all planned out. Toji stood in and listened as Yaga laid out the situation to you and in turn everyone else including you. He mentioned the security tapes you had around here, and you confirmed that you’ll drop them off first thing tomorrow as well. He also brought up increased patrols, and that further relieved something within Toji, but still… the fear of your uncle doing something to you hung over you. However, he knew he needed to go back to the clinic soon. 

Yaga soon left, and you went back to the couch, tired and dejected from it all, flopping onto the couch, “This is…”

However, a sound cut through the air, Toji feeling something move within his pockets. Quickly, he fished it out to silence it, only for his eyes to slightly widen at the notification. 

The Smoker: “Megumi fell asleep, probably from exhaustion. Everything looks good, I may be able to take him either tomorrow or the next day.”

He smirked down at his phone, quickly texting her back that he’d be coming back soon. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him as he put his phone back in his pocket. 

“Smoker says that Megumi fell asleep, and that everything still looks good with him.”

Suddenly, Yuuji stood up, exclaiming, “I need to go be with him!”

Toji held up his hand, seeing how he was about to jump out of his skin to run and go and see Megumi, “Hold it Pinky, lemme take you, Megumi will kill me if I let you go by yourself. Need to head back there anyways, talk about treatment plans and whatnot.”

However, the last thing that any of them have is to leave you alone. That would be his last mistake, and yet, Maki and everyone else were still in the city on their little getaway, and he already knew the smoker was preoccupied. His eyes fluttered right back to Nanami, whose eyes narrowed at the sight of Toji looking at him. Toji then looked back at you, pointing his thumb at Nanami.

“You trust him,” he asked you. 

You peeked up at his confusion, and he could see confusion twist your face for a moment. For a moment, you glanced between Nanami and Toji, before slowly nodding your head. A sight left his mouth, ignoring his fleeting hope that you would say something completely different. 

Turning towards Nanami, his eyes still narrowed, “Stay with her tonight, Blondie? Don’t want her to be alone until we learn all the details. All we know, they could send more goons.”

“Wait, Kento you don’t need to stay–” your words were cut off by the blond man sitting right beside you, whose hand stuck out and kept you seated. 

“Never planned to leave in the first place,” is all he said to Toji.

Toji then nodded, ignoring the look in your eyes as you turned towards Nanami. Toji then looked over at Yuuji, with one jerk of his head towards the door, the young boy immediately got up, holding back his jitters. Before leaving, Yuuji gave you a long hug, telling you to be careful, as well as telling you that he would be back tomorrow, before making his way to the door. By now, Toji had already approached the door, hearing the boy following behind him. He unlocked the truck, letting the boy in, before making his way down the road back towards town. The car ride was silent, but he didn’t know if he should thank God or spit on his face. All he could think about was his hand on yours, how you found yourself at ease within his hold. This… man he’s never met before, someone who you never even bothered to tell him about. You used to tell him everything. 

Do you even deserve that right, a nasty voice within him, a voice he hadn’t heard since the day he was kicked out of his family, it’s obvious that she’s moving on…

The Zenin family, the only ones to rival the Gojo’s… another story, for another day. 

Now he was here, walking through the square, holding food for his son, his boyfriend, and himself. Suddenly, his phone rings, and glancing down at it, he smirks, before picking it up.

“Tell me you got something good for me, Shiu,” he spoke through the receiver, taking a quick right as he stepped out of some little kid's way as they ran, an exhausted mother soon following after them. 

“Well, I definitely got something, from what I could find, her uncle is trying to make business with the Gojos.”

Toji’s eyebrows perked up at that, “The Gojos? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. What would they want in this backwater ass town?”

Shiu chuckled, “ ‘pparently, head of the company wants to break into, and get this, the mining industry, and that mountain in your little “backwater ass town” has a bunch of coal and other important stones. However, the orchard is stopping her uncle from being able to sell the idea to them.”

Greed is the motivation most people would use to try and do heinous things to others. Trust him, he knows just how far people will go to get a huge chunk of money. Remembering his life when growing up, the tactics his family would use… in all honesty, your uncle and the Gojos were a little tame in their efforts.

“Everything around the orchard is public property, so it’ll be easy for the Gojo’s to buy up everything else… but the orchard is the main problem. He wants to build some kind of quarry on top of it as well. Honestly… it’s not too bad of a plan, and it makes a lot of people a lot of money.”

Except for you, Toji thought. He knew just how much you put into this, how you went to college, specifically to learn more to be able to run the orchard, a stipulation from your grandmother. Your drive was what pulled him towards you after all. 

As he walked straight, movement caught his eye. Thinking that it was just something random, a person going inside a restaurant, when his eyes fluttered to his left, and Toji froze mid-step. Everything within him froze, at first, his eyes could not believe anything that he was seeing. The frost of the air had no match for the way his blood boiled, angry heat erupting within him as he almost squeezed the phone in his hands. 

“Fushiguro— hey, are you there?! I got some more for you,” Shiu spoke out, but he was barely paying attention, watching the sight before him, that was happening across the street at a restaurant. 

Toji grunted and said that he was still listening, “yeah, apparently the Gojos are sending someone down to continue talking about the plans. I don’t know who, but watch out for him.”

His eyes widened as a handshake, between two people he knew, but he thought didn't know each other. 

Nanami, the man who carried his son, the one who comforted you, while wearing a fitting, sleeked, and ironed business suit, shaking hands with the man who has caused absolutely nothing but detriment to your life. Before he ended the call, hastily he told Shiu to look into a man named Kento Nanami before shutting off the call. Toji flipped towards his camera app, before taking just enough pictures to give right to you. To give you so you could believe him when he tells you the man you were shacking up with had berated you for the moment you two met. 

Kento walked amid the restaurant, walking behind a man. He was a thin man, and little shorter than Kento, and wearing a suit that was obviously bigger than him. In his hands, Kento could see, was a manilla folder, as well as two rolled-up papers, kept together with rubber bands. Kenot followed behind both him and the waitress, who took them to a booth in the back, gesturing for the two of them to sit and they did so. 

The waitress took their orders, and while Kento simply ordered water, the man ordered a sweet tea, as well as his own appetizer without looking at the menu. Once the waitress left to fulfill their orders, Kento pulled at the menu, flipping it open just to see what they had to eat. 

The man, seeing Kento flip through, quickly placed his bony finger within Kento's space pointing towards a certain thing on the menu, “their double-loaded burgers and fries, I especially think you should try, Mr. Nanami.”

Kento simply hummed, waiting a moment for the man to pull his hand away, so he continued looking at the menu. It was all quiet, until the waitress came back, giving Kento his water and the man his sweet tea as well as his appetizers before asking for main dish orders. Raden, Kento expected for him to order the double-loaded burgers, while Kento ordered a shrimp carbonara pasta. If Harris felt a way for Kento not ordering the same thing as him, he didn’t say it. The waitress wrote it all down before smiling and leaving.

“Alright, we should probably get into business while we wait for our food,” Harris began, pulling out the papers and unrolling the cylinder of paper. 

Kento watched as Harris unveiled two blueprints to him, looking similar yet very different. 

“Mr… Harris, what exactly am I looking at here?”

The man in front of him smirked, “this is the plan to allow for a new mine to be built right here, see within these mountains,” he brought a pen, pointing towards the area where the mountains were, “is a plethora of untouched coal and even other rocks as well. Untapped potential.”

Kenot could not lie to himself, his mind beginning to make the calculations, as he remembered all of Satoru’s sentiments in their previous meetings. There were many times he had mentioned the mining industry, one of the few things the Gojo’s don’t have any stake or claim within. A conglomerate as big as that one, and having an interest in an industry was something he would be interested in. He can see why Satoru decided this would be worth his time if he never knew what was going on. 

“Not only that, but we’ll also build a quarry, not too far from the mountains as well, and it’ll bring out even more investment as well.”

He suddenly pointed out an area on the prospective blueprints, circled where it said: “QUARRY.” Kento slowly nodded his head, before glancing between that and blueprints of the town, to see just how much things would change. 

Kento tilted his head, blinking as he continued to glance between the two blueprints. Aligning up, he could not see your orchard on it all, at least on the prospective blueprints. Leaning over, turning the papers to align with each other, he could feel his heart skip a beat in budding fear. 

Your orchard was nowhere to be seen, and right above where it was supposed to be were those words “QUARRY” written in big letters. 

He looked up at Mr. Harris, “I feel like I should point out the obvious obstacle here,” he pointed to your orchard on the blueprint, “the orchard here.”

His heart further dropped when Mr. Harris didn’t react, in fact, his smirk only widened.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s a work in progress. See, I grew up on that Orchard, just have to deal with a stubborn family member and it will be all ours for us to do as we please.”

His eyes were wide, but still, he tried his best not to show a reaction, yet all he could think about was everything, that day you rushed out when the two of you first met, those people who caused a major disturbance at your booth during the Vibirum festival, when those goons rolled and attacked Megumi as well. He had a feeling that this man in front of him was the reason that it was all happening. Did… he wished to scare you off the property…?

“Well, that’s definitely a lot,” Kento started, yet was interrupted by the waitress bringing their food over to them.

The conversation stifled for a bit as the two of them began to eat, Kento ignoring the way the cheese from his burger dripped on his chin. 

Wait a minute, Kento thought, did he say that he grew up on the Orchard. He remembered you saying that you were the only child of your parents… but this man was obviously older than you, too old to be an older sibling of yours. Yet when he looked back at Mr. Harris, in his eyes, Kento was suddenly blown away by the sudden familiarity of them. The eyes, the exact same eyes. You and him had the exact same eyes, yet yours was filled with shining light and his were filled… with malice. 

This man was definitely a relative of yours, but he wasn’t a brother… however, it never occurred to him that your mother could have had siblings as well.

Kento fully-eyed him, Harris was definitely old enough to be your uncle. At that notion, he almost choked on his pasta, quickly swallowing it by picking up his glass of water and taking a few steps. The two of them each ate half of their food, before asking the waitress for trays and bags before focusing right on the matter at hand. 

“Well, Mr. Nanami,” Mr Harris started, “what do you think? I’ve had this plan in motion for just a little over five years as well.”

Just a little over five years? Around the time your grandmother passed away? 

“When you said you grew up in the orchard…?” He couldn't help but ask, he needed all the information he could get before he acted. 

At this, his smirk turned more melancholy, looking down, “the orchard was founded by my mother and father, but it was really her running everything, my father would only listen. It was me, my younger sister and my older sister as well, may god rest her soul.”

“May God rest her soul.” was all the confirmation Kento needed about who he was. Said older sister, the one who by his words passed away, was obviously your mother. 

“When I left, my grandmother had the grand idea to leave it with my niece, who still owns it. But don’t you worry, once I tell her how much money she’ll make in this, she’ll sign everything over to me.”

Kento hummed, slowly nodding his head, acting as if he was moved by Harris’ words. Soon, the waitress came back, giving them their proper trays and bags. Harris stood up, saying that he had to go and that he hoped to hear good things from Kento before taking his leave. 

The moment that he was out of sight, Kento let out a large groan in anger and frustration, his hands pressing up against his face. It took everything within him not to attack the man sitting right in front of him. The more he talked, the more Kento realized that Harris had been trying nonstop to take your Orchard from you. An impasse, Kento was at an impasse, because he knew, he knew that he couldn't take this deal. His heart tugged with him, telling him that this would destroy you, and everything you’ve worked for, and the last thing he wanted to do, was be the person who caused that. In so little time, you’ve made an imprint, a brand on his heart. However, his brain knew that this was exactly the kind of deal Satoru wanted to make. Despite his friendship with the man, he was still his boss, and his family is what created the huge company where he worked. What he said, goes. 

Unless…

Kento got up, grabbing his bagged food, before leaving over two hundred dollars on the table to cover his portion of the bill as well as his tip. Fishing out his phone, he soon began to make a few calls, a rush of wind behind him as he exited out of the restaurant. 

Standing, watching as the huge mixer plowed through the dough you were making for the apple donuts, a new batch for when the orchard opened up for the week. You wore your usual apron over your outfit, an old, fading white shirt, and ripped baggy gray-washed jeans. Gloves on your hands as you began to mix pomegranate juice in the batch of buttercream glaze that was sitting in your mixing bowl. As you mixed the red juice, seeing the glaze turn a slow purplish-reddish color, you smiled.

You wondered if Kento would enjoy these, as much as he enjoys the donuts. As you mix, you couldn't help but think of this morning, and how close the two of you were at that time. It was like the two of you were in your own little bubble, away from the world. Eating breakfast, answering hypothetical questions, everything. You let out a shaky breath as you remembered when he opened the door, revealing his body still drenched in water from his shower. You couldn't pull your eyes from the way the beads of water would drip down his body, dragging against the hairs that grew from… everywhere… 

Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your budding fantasy, putting your focus right back onto the glaze in front of you. However, just as you are about to let go of the spatula, a loud BANG catches your attention. 

A loud gasp leaves your mind, your body turning around as your heart begins to race. Was this it? Did your uncle send more men to attack you again? Reaching for your phone, your fingers immediately itching, thinking about the blonde man who told you to call him, when a shouting voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you?!” Toji, calling out your name, his voice booming and echoing throughout the house.

Befuddled, you stopped the dough mixer from mixing the bread, before taking your apron and leaving the kitchen. Entering the welcome area, just as Toji walked in, sweating and breathing heavily. 

“Come here, I have something to show you,” he grabbed you by the arm, ignoring your sudden shriek as he pulled you to the couch not far from you. 

“Toji? What is going on with you? Is it Megumi?” you asked him, watching as he pulled his phone out before scrolling through it. 

“No it’s not, but here!” That's all he said as he shoved his phone in your hand. 

Once again, confusion was on your face as you glanced over at him. Toji only gave you a hard stare, causing you to shake your head before looking at the phone in your hand.

Blink… blink…blink… 

Your free hand reached up to wipe your eyes, but you could feel a crack within your heart the more and more you looked at it. 

“Toji… what am I looking at right now?” your voice was trembling, but you knew exactly what you were looking at. 

“I think you know what it is, Princess.”

Princess… he hadn’t used that nickname for you in a long time, since you broke up. In the picture, you could see Kento, the very same Kento who was just in your home, who held you while you cried, carried you to your room, and everything. He was not wearing the clothes you had sent him in, but rather a black, freshly pressed suit, and his hand was outstretched, shaking with the bane of your existence, your uncle, Raden Harris. Kento had a neutral look on his face, while your uncle had a much wider smile as they shook hands. You scroll through the pictures seeing what happened in sequence, then shaking hands before entering Donna’s, one of the few restaurants in the Square.

“How… How did you even see these?” You couldn't help but ask him, shocking the phone back into his hands, standing up, and walking over one of the bookshelf walls.

As you stood there, trying your best to compose yourself, Toji spoke, “I saw them myself, was on the phone with someone who was figuring out why your uncle was even here. Ironic that I would see this at that time.”

Swiftly, you turned around, facing him, ignoring the tears that welled in your eyes, “you found out why my uncle is here?”

Toji nodded his head, “Gojo Corporation, they’re this big conglomerate that runs a lot of stuff. Heard of them, right?”

You nodded your head, allowing him to continue to speak, “Shiu, my contact, told me they’ve been trying to break into the mining industry. Your uncle heard about that, and thought about the mountains not too far from here. He wants to build a mine right here in Aquarine, and use your Orchard space to make a Quarry.”

Your eyes narrowed, “a quarry? What the hell is that?” your anger allowed the curse to easily slip through your words

Toji shrugged his shoulders, “don’t know, but needs this place gone for it to happen. So the Gojo’s were supposed to be sending someone to continue on with the plans, and on my way over here, I got more information on this Nanami guy.”

He opened his phone, this time opening his messages before shoving the device in your hands, allowing you to read the messages. 

“Kento Nanami, 27, Chief Financial Officer to the Gojo Corporation.” you mumbled, only feeling yourself going more and more numb as you glanced over the information Toji’s contact gave him.

A CFO… something that he told you that he was… to the company that would benefit from the destruction of your orchard.

“Wait, wait, that doesn’t make sense, why would he take a class?? Why would he take my invitation to come here? He…he,” you began to stutter, “he fought off those men who were attacking Megumi! Come on, there’s gotta be an explanation–”

“There is no explanation!” Toji yelled, snatching the phone out of your hand, “he’s playing you! You’ve been played! Your uncle told him all about you and they made a plan to make you sell your orchard to them!”

“But he told me that he was meeting someone, why would he let me know what he’s doing if he wanted to take it from me–”

“Princess, I know how these rich people work, they think of themselves as God, he probably thought you were too stupid to even make the connection.” He told you, but his voice slowly became muffled, as if you dunked your head underwater as you went and sat down.

Your body began to shake, as you could no longer hold back your tears. Toji, seeing your state, came over to you, wrapping his arm around you before pulling you close. Almost immediately, you snuggled yourself into him as well.

“I know it hurts, but it’s the truth, and I’ll be damned before I let this person take everything you, and your family have worked hard for.”

You sniffed, saying nothing but you nodded your head, wrapping yourself within his chest and abdomen. His familiar scent, smelling of sweat, and intense cologne, comforted you, the nostalgia of when he used to hold you after long days of work. 

Then, your phone rang, the melodious tones rang out, and your heart dropped at the sound. When you saved Kento’s number, you gave him his own ringtone, so you’d know it was him calling every time. That was the ringtone you two were hearing. Moving back, you pulled your phone out of your pockets, heartbreaking even further at the confirmation of Kento ♡ appearing on your phone screen. Toji glanced down, before seeing the name, his eyes filling with rage. Before you could decide on whether you wanted to answer it, Toji suddenly grabbed your phone, standing up to his feet before answering it. 

“Toji!” you screamed, but it was too late. 

Toji was loud, honestly, you’d never seen him yell like that. Not when Megumi made a mistake, because he rarely did, he didn’t even yell at him when he found out he was beating up bullies while at school. His words are full of venom as he tells Kento to stay away from you and from the Orchard as well. That if you even hear that he was close to you, that he’ll rip him limb from limb. He pulled the phone away from him, before ending the call, not bothering to let Kento get one word in. Toji typed away at your phone for a few more seconds, before tossing your phone back to you, reaching out and catching it.

“If he contacts you again, don’t let him near you, let me take care of this, okay?”

You opened your mouth but could find nothing to say. You could only watch as Toji walked out, his stomps heavy and ireful. He slammed the door behind him and stomped away. So now, it was just you again, your body lying across the couch as your mind began to catch up to everything that just happened. All you could do was lie there, ignoring the streaks of tears that rolled down your eyes. Was everything Kento– Nanami, told you a lie? 

A flash in your mind, his warm smile on that day as you sat in your private area with your koi and goldfish pond… were you too trusting of a man you and only met so recently? In the time you had dated Toji, he had never made you feel the way you felt for Kento. In so little time too… 

Were you too longing for love? For someone to understand you… that you would trust someone you hadn’t known for a week… to give every part of yourself to him, like you did on that fateful night?

For a moment you laid there, your mind running on every kind of emotion. Laying there aimlessly, until a slow realization that you still needed to finish preparations for tomorrow, and slowly, you pushed yourself up before wobbling abc into your kitchen. You had no time to cry anymore, you had business to finish. 

Before you knew it, it was night, and you had long finished your preparations for opening tomorrow. The lights shut off, and with heavy clouds looming over your head, you made your way towards the stairs, to your private apartment. When you hear heavy pounds on your door, your head swiftly turns around as you stare at the closed door. Slowly, you made your way over to the door. The knocks never stopped, but climbing over the couch in the welcome area, your fingers fluttering with the thin curtains, moving the thin curtains back only seeing familiar blonde hair, his heavy and large hand still pounding away at the door. 

“Please, talk to me,” you could now hear his voice through the door.

A gasp left your mouth, your hands letting go of the curtain, turning around. Your heart pounded in your chest, nervous breaths leaving your lips. The sudden movement must have caught his attention, cause the pounding stopped, and for a moment it was all silent. Then, the sound of footsteps caught your attention. You glanced behind you only to see Kento’s huge figure standing not too far from the window. You knew that he knew that you were there, yet you said nothing, just sitting there, waiting for him to say something. 

“I’m… I’m sorry, can we talk, please?”

Your hand reached clenching at the fabric, feeling how your heart clenched. You wanted to, your heart wanted to, oh you so wanted to. To face the man you’ve fallen for to tell you to your face that everything you’ve heard wasn’t true. However, Toji’s words echoed in your head, the vexation and anger on his face, and it all stopped you. Frozen, your body couldn't move, even though your heart broke further underneath those pleas that left Kento’s mouth. 

A single knock against the glass of the window, then, you heard a sigh, and the last thing he said was, “I’m gonna make it right, don’t worry, please.”

You saw his figure slowly fading away, your eyes watching him through the curtain closed until you could no longer see any remnants of him.

Four long days.

That was the last time you heard from Kento. Each day that would go by, your heart would crumble, and each day, more and more, you began to believe Toji’s words. Of how he was playing you. As you stood outside, wearing Toji’s old jacket and pair of sweatpants. you carried a basket of apples towards the wagon you had parked in the back of the house. 

Today was the grand opening for your cafe, opening in two hours, and the entire town was talking about it as well. It was the last thing in your grandmother’s letter that she wanted you to do for the Orchard. 

Inside, Megumi sat on the stool you made him sit on, scrolling away at his phone. The moment he was discharged, he also came straight here, if not for his father. However, that second day Toji dropped him off with you, saying that he wants to help as much as he can. At most, you made him carry a pan of pastries, but even if that, you made him sit down and watch, not wanting his wounds to be more irritated than they already were. Yuta, Nobara, and Inumaki were in the kitchen, preparing the last of the pastries as well. 

Yuuji and Maki took the apples to the kitchen, while you stood outside, hands tucked away in your pockets. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the cool, crisp, December air. The feeling of the frosty wind nipping at your ears, bending your head back, letting out a loud sigh as you cracked your neck. Despite the heavy cloud weighing on top of you, you knew that it was no day for that, today was a happy day for you. You wanted to celebrate today, everything you’ve worked for, and this cafe was the culmination of your hard work as well. Then, you heard low humming, as well as the sounds of tires pressing up against the dirt. At first, you thought you were hearing things, but the sounds continued, before suddenly getting louder, and closer with each second. Confused, you made your way towards the front of the house, glancing around as you saw a black SUV suddenly roll up to the front. The car, most likely an expensive brand that you’ve never seen before, parked not too far from you, only leaving a few feet between you and the right headlight. Taking a step back, watching as the car turned off, the windows fully tinted not allowing you to see who exactly was inside. It couldn't have been anyone in town, the orchard wasn’t open at all, considering that apple season was over and the cafe wasn’t open for another three hours. 

The doors opened, and your eyes widened at the four people who exited out of the big SUV. Coming from the right backseat, your eyes landed on blond hair, as well as a blue dress shirt, and as well beige pants as well. You took a step back at the sight of Kento, seeing him taking your mind for a loop, but that wasn’t the last thing that furthered the discord within you. Coming around the truck, it only sent you to despair to see your uncle standing there, his sleazy smirk on his face as he held papers in his hand, within a manilla folder. Was this how he was gonna fix it? By bringing the bane of your existence here to your home? However, your eyes looked over, and your eyes could not help but narrow at the two new unknown men standing right before you. They, much like Kento, wore their own expensive suits, although they matched with each other. One man had pure white hair, with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as well. The other man had long black hair, with a bit of it packed up in a bun in the back of his head, a kinder smile on his face. All four of them approached you, standing in front of the car. 

“The Orchard is closed right now–” you tried to speak, the fakest smile on your face, as you hoped to get them away from you and your home. 

“I heard you have a cafe here?!” The white-haired man suddenly cut into your words, as if he didn’t even hear you. 

Behind the man, the black-haired man and Kento groaned, placing their hands over their heads. 

Blinking, you tilted your head, “well, yes I do, but it’s not open right now, you’ll have to come back later.”

The white-haired man in front suddenly pouted, head and body bowing down, “please, I’ll literally buy one of everything!”

The black-haired stranger beside Kento suddenly stepped up, reaching for his white-haired friend, and lifting him up.

“There’s better ways to do this than beg, Satoru,” he stated, before turning towards you. 

He smiled, “sorry about him, he’s… a lot to handle.”

You gave him a small smile, “That’s okay… but would he really buy one of everything?” you couldn't help but ask him.

The men glanced between the white-haired man– Satoru, and yourself, before nodding his head, letting out a sigh, “yeah, he would, he lets his sweet tooth lead him a lot of the times.”

The man introduced himself as Suguru Geto, before restating the claim the man in his arms stated that they wished to see your bakery as well. You glanced over at Kento, looking at him fully for the first time, and his words echoed into his head. He looked back at you, a tentative smile on his face. 

“I’m gonna make it right, don’t worry, please.”

One chance. That was all you were gonna give him. 

Facing the two men, you nodded, before telling them to follow you. However, before any of them could move, your uncle, who you forgot was even there, suddenly interjected. 

“Excuse me, I thought we were coming here to convince her to sign the pap–” However, your uncle immediately shut up the moment that… Satoru…? turned towards him, glaring down at him. 

At that, your uncle shut up, and you couldn’t suppress the smile and giggle that left your mouth, covering your head with the old fabric of your jacket. With that, they all followed you, walking inside the main home. Inside, you could see Megumi sitting at his stool towards your right, watching his head lift up. You could tell he was confused at first, but seeing Kento walk in made his eyes widen in alarm. Almost immediately he got up, but you signaled for him to sit down. He gave you a confused look, his eyes asking you “What were you doing?” but you just gestured at him to relax, before continuing to lead your party towards the cafe entrance within the house. You led them down a hall, before approaching the side, where a wide, open doorway, took up the space of two, maybe three doors, along with a sign at the top that said “Honeyed Orchard’s Cafe” 

You walked into the space, walking past the tables and benches you had around this secondary entrance, before entering the main area of the cafe. The walls were painted an off-white, and there were hanging plants above you. The hanging lights had glass coverings, blown out to look like flowers, hanging above the small bar stools as well as the main bakery table. To your left, there were a couple of bar stools, underneath an attached table, allowing those who would be sitting to look outside the window, the town where the grove of trees was. Said window had sage green groovings as well, and the main door that led to the outside was also sage green. Walking in further, allowing all the men to see the glass casing, showing off all the pastries you and your grandmother created, pulling from her old cookbook. 

A long whistle came out of Geto’s mouth, “this is really nice,” he complimented, taking a look around. 

Seeing all the desserts in front of him, Satoru gasped, making his way towards the front, where Toge and Yuta, who were talking amongst themselves, suddenly stopped their conversation, seeing you and these four men behind you. He began speaking radically, as he basically ordered one of everything, pointing at all of it. At that, your two employees glanced over at you, seeing how you nodded, before getting to work. 

You turned towards Geto, “thank you, my grandmother, most of everything was her idea, I just brought it to life for her.”

At the corner of your eye, you could see your uncle flinch at the sudden mention of your grandmother, his mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed that, seeing Geto and Kento take a glance at each other. All of you looked over at Satoru who was handing over a huge wad of cash, both you, Toge, and Yuta’s eyes widening at the sudden look of it, before he took the boxes and walked over to one of the booths within the bakery-cafe. Geto smiled looking at him, before nodding at you and soon joining him, taking a seat right in front of him. Satoru opened the first vox on top, pulling out one of the many pastries before taking a bite. As you watched him preen over the sweets, footsteps got closer to you, the familiar smell of cologne standing right next to you. Your head turned, heart beating at the sight of Kento right beside you. His eyes looked tired, but still, he smiled down at you, hands in his pockets. This time, you could no longer hold back your smile, before jerking your head towards the couple sitting at your booth table.

“Is this your way of “making it right?”” you asked him.

But before he could answer, you could hear angry huffing coming closer, You turned around only to see your uncle coming up two steps behind you, anger rushing over his face. However, before he could say anything, Kento stepped in between the two of you, his tired eyes suddenly turning into a chilled anger, much like an angry snowstorm. 

“Any words you want to say to her can be redirected at me,” he said, your eyes widened at the gruff in his voice.

“If you have nothing to say, go sit down, we’ll deal with you soon.”

Your uncle’s face was astounded at the way Kento came to your defense, glancing between the two of you. He then narrowed his eyes, before pointing his long, bony, finger in Kento’s face.

“We had a deal, Nanami, don’t forget that,” was all he said, before going to walk away, sitting at the bar stools near the main entrance. 

You and Kento looked at each other right after, smiling at each other once more. 

“You know, you still didn’t answer my question,” you asked him, as the two of you began to walk over to the front. 

“Is this your way of fixing things?” you repeated the question one more time.

He only gave you a smile, “just trust me.”

Your lips fell open just a little, before letting out a chuckle before turning towards Yuta, “give me two apple donuts, Yuta.”

The tired-eyed teen nodded his head, before fishing out two donuts with the tongs, wrapping them up, and handing them to you. Smiling, you gave Kento one, his eyes glancing down in surprise. His smile then reappeared, before taking the donut out of your hands, pulling the familiar red and white checked parchment away, before taking one huge bite. You eat yours along with him, the two of you smiling. Although you couldn't see him, you knew that your uncle was staring at the two of you, and you couldn’t help the elation that arose within you at that moment, at his heart racing about the fact that the two of you knew each other… and the fact that his plans are in jeopardy as well. Especially on the way, Kento jumped in to defend you from him. 

Once finished with your treat, you glanced over at your new guests, watching as Satoru shared one of his pastries with Geto. Crumbling your parchment paper, you approached the two of them, wiping any crumbs off of your face as well. 

“Are you two enjoying your treats?” you asked them, ending down slightly to be face-to-face with them. 

Satoru swiftly turned his head towards you, his eyes glowing as if a kid on a high sugar rush, with a huge smile on his face, “you’re a goddess!” he suddenly exclaimed, before turning his head a bit to the side.

“You were right about this place, you won!” He suddenly exclaimed, turning around only to realize he was looking at Kento. 

“Won…?” you questioned, glancing between the two of them, “won at what?” 

But your words were drowned out by your uncle, who blew up, standing up from his seat before marching right over to the four of you. 

“This is ridiculous, I thought we were here to make her sign the papers to realize the proterpies over to me! Gojo, you told me that this was why you came here!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the name he used, as he stared at the white-haired man who slowly dropped his pastry back into its box, before turning his head glaring at him. 

“I’m sorry,” your eyes widened as his voice dropped at least three octaves, “were you speaking to me?”

The sudden chill that fell over the room the moment he spoke, only intensified the moment he stood up, facing your uncle. 

“She’s not signing those papers, and if I hear about you trying this with other people, trust me, you’ll wish you’ve never even met me.”

However, despite this, your uncle didn’t back down, despite his body shaking with fear, “this deal is one of kind, and can make a lot of people a lot money–”

He was suddenly cut off by Geto standing, unaffected by the radiation of anger that Sato– Gojo was giving off. 

“You heard him, this deal is off, and if he hears you trying to sell this off to someone else, we’ll personally deal with you.” The anger in the air intensified the moment Geto narrowed his eyes at your uncle.

Kento stood up fully, before joining the two of them, your eyes glancing between the two of them. The three of them stood together, radiating an energy you’ve never felt before, it terrified you, and you weren’t even the one they were angry at you. As you stood there, slowly relaxing that these two random men Kento brought to your home and business, weren’t random men after all, but instead held all the power behind the very company your uncle was conspiring with to steal everything you and your family had worked for. 

“Get out of here!” that came from Gojo, your head turning as your uncle jumped, dropping all the papers in his hands, before scurrying out of the bakery. 

It was all silent the moment he left, and after a few seconds, everything fully clicked for you. Your legs trembled and shook under the realization of the fact that it was over. Your uncle’s terrorization of you, your employees, your orchard, of your family’s legacy. It was over. You could feel yourself beginning to fall, your arms flailing about for some stabilization, when hands suddenly wrapped themselves around your waist, holding you right up. The smell of citrus and sage makes you look up, seeing Kento with a soft smile on his face.

“Told you to just trust me.”

The two of you locked eyes, and before you knew it, in a rush of energy, you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around him. They locked behind his neck, and you could hear Kento give off a sound of surprise, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. Your body began to shake, as tears, happy tears, began to stream down your face. 

“Thank you… thank you so much!” you cried in his ears, your tears beginning to stain his shirt. 

With a longing hum, Kento pressed his own cheek into your shoulder, “you’re welcome, love.”

With over six new boxes of pastries, Suguru held them in his hands, carrying them towards the car, while Satoru and Kento walked behind him. In both of their hands were two cases of apple cider, twelve in each case as well. 

“You’ve really fallen for her, ehh Kento, you’d even put your job on the line for her,” Kento’s eyes glared at Satoru’s teasing words, Satoru not caring as he nudged Kento with his elbow. 

Despite his glare, Kento’s heart softened at Satoru’s mention of you. These past four days, allowed him to realize just how, and in just a little time he ached to see you. Putting things in motion was harder than he thought, but for you, he had little to no problem with how he did so. Glancing back at the house, where you were surrounded by every one of your employees, laughing and smiling with them as well. Kento didn’t even notice the smile on his face until Satoru pointed it out.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” Kento heard, turning his head around to look at his friend. 

“Like what?” He couldn't help but ask him. 

“...like I smile at Suguru,” he revealed.

The two of them glanced over at the black-haired man, who had just slammed the door to their rental, before walking around to the driver seat. Suguru turned towards the two of them, before beckoning Satoru, calling him over. Satoru, looking over at Kento one last time before saying,

“Don’t let her go, don’t let your father’s words pull you from the only one that made you smile like that.”

With that, he walked away, facing his husband before giving Kento one last wave before hopping into the passenger seat. Suguru waved over at Kento as well, before getting into the SUV. As he watched the huge black car leave, he could hear quiet footsteps approaching him, glancing back and seeing you standing not too far from him. He turned around, and the two of you just looked at each other, the wind blowing in between the two of you. 

“We…” you started, “we should talk, huh?”

He blinked, before nodding his head slowly. With that, you turned around and began walking back towards the house. He said nothing, only following you, noting how the porch was empty of all your employees who were with you. He skipped in front of you, opening the door, you utter a small thank you towards him before walking inside the main house. Leading him towards the back, in the kitchen, where all the chatter that echoed through the room suddenly ceased, Kento looked up and saw six pairs of eyes all suddenly in him, all glowering, and all angry with him.

Suddenly, he swayed black spiky hair marching right up to him, his green eyes fueled with fire. However, before Megumi could say anything, you stepped in between the two of them, holding your arms out. 

“It’s okay,” you cooed, smiling at Megumi, “me and Kento have to talk, don’t worry.”

“But he–” but you shook your head, causing him to cease his words. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “the six of you go back to work please, we suddenly lost almost half of our inventory for each and every pastry and we have a big crowd coming today. I’ll be down soon.”

Looking over at them, watching as their apprehensive eyes slowly move away from the two of you, focusing on making more of everything that you suddenly lost. You were right, with Satoru buying half of the inventory you planned on for the grand opening of your bakery-cafe, and with less than three hours until the cafe opening, they need all hands on deck. Looking over Megumi, jerking your head towards them. With no other words exchanged, Megumi glances at you, and finally at him, before groaning, leaving and joining them once again. With no more obstacles, the two of you made it towards your private stairs, watching as you unlocked it, before following you to the top, to your private apartment. The lights were off, only the low glow of the cloudy sky was the only thing that allowed him to see two feet in front of him. Suddenly, a hand, soft as flowers, reached out and grabbed his much rougher ones. Kento looked up, only seeing your back as you left him on the couch, where you guided him to sit.

He watched as you walked in front of him, before taking a seat a cushion away from him, your body fully facing him. With everything, Kento never got a chance to fully look at you. Despite your clothes being covered in dirt from picking the last of the apples off the trees, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him. 

“I… want to hear everything, from the moment you arrived here, to now, everything. If you don’t mind, please.”

Kento nodded his head, sighing as he faced you, and he could feel his knees grazing with your own, “I was doing business in the city, when I got a call from Satoru, who you just met today,” you nodded at that.

“He asked me to see about this possible business deal here, and at first I was gonna decline, but he called this as a favor that I owed, so I went. He told me that he didn’t know what it was about, but that he had a feeling, so he told me to check it out, since I was already close, I came.”

“All I knew at that time was your uncle’s name, and his number. I had no idea what he was doing, or what he was planning, and I never did until the day of our meeting. When I arrived, the meeting was set for two days after I arrived, and the day after I arrived was when I first took your class.”

Suddenly, Kento reached out, having no idea why, but he wanted to hold them again, longing for the soft touch once more. 

“Since that day, I’ve never felt anything like the way I felt that day, then I did with you.” He confessed to you.

Your eyes widened, but he felt your hands clenching around his hands as he spoke, listening to every word he said. 

“I… don’t know, but since that day, I’ve wanted to know more of you, more about you. Those days we would spend time together were the best days of my life.”

Your eyes shined as you stared into Kento’s, your heart racing, his words like Cupid’s arrows, sending them straight into your heart. His eyes looked down for a moment, before looking up at you, his eyes shining, welling with tears. 

“But then I hurt you, accidentally or not, I should have asked more questions, or even made a guess that my reason for being here was a lot closer to you than I imagined,” he said, shaking his head as he looked away

You gasped, shuffling closer to him, shaking your head, “no, I should have said something, I knew my uncle was behind the attack, but I never said anything. I didn’t want to drive you away,” you said, tears no longer holding back from your eyes.

“You could never drive me away, not now and not ever, darling,” he said, one of his hands leaving your hands, resting and caressing on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the one the closest tear to it. 

“If I had known before the meeting, I never would have met with him, never would have bothered, but it was too late. So, I needed to find a way to stop your uncle from trying this project with him or with anyone else.”

“Inviting your boss all the way out here seems a little extreme, doesn’t it?” You couldn't help but ask, a playful laugh left your lips. 

Kento shrugged his shoulders, “it was all i could do to stop him entirely, if your uncle was like I thought of him, which I was correct, he would have took his deal to the Zenins,” your eyes widened at that name, “and they are much more ruthless than Satoru, i could never stop them alone. I doubt there wasn't anything they would have done if they couldn't get your orchard.”

Your eyes blinked, Toji’s words about his old family echoing in your head, it seemed like he really was right about them. 

“But I also knew Satoru, and if he thought something was a good deal, it would still take a lot to convince him not to take it. So I had to use the two things that would convince him not to, his competitive spirit as well as his sweet tooth.”

“Competitive spirit?” you questioned, before suddenly meaning Saotru’s words, him saying that Kento won after he had spoken to you while eating his desserts.

“You made a bet with your boss?” You questioned

“I made a bet with a friend, a friend who I knew couldn’t resist the call of anything sweet. I gave your deserts the highest compliments, which were true to every level as well, but he didn’t know that. I knew  that it would catch his attention well, and it seems I was right.”

“And if he didn’t, you know, like my treats?” you couldn't help but ask him,

“Then I would resign as CFO, effective immediately.”

Your mouth fell open in shock, face wide, “what?? You put your job on the line? Kento!” You shrieked, squeezing his hands.

“Like I said, I would have done anything for you, but I knew your desserts would be up to the test. I really didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“But still,” you lamented, “you shouldn’t have given something that important to me.”

Suddenly, you let out a squeal as your body was suddenly pulled forward, your thighs landed in between his legs, his arm wrapping around your waist.

Gasping out a Kento, letting go of his hands, instead wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“I feel like you're not listening to me, when I said that I’ll do anything for you, I meant that. Plus you said it yourself, “I’m getting the sense that you don’t enjoy the job as much as you want to…” You were right, I didn't enjoy that job, I hated it and everyone around me knew it.”

You looked into his eyes, “Kento…”

His grip suddenly let off a squeeze, a slight, hitched gasp leaving your lips, “the time I’ve spent with you, it makes me want to give all of it up. All the money I’ve made from this job doesn’t matter, I’ve made more in a lifetime to sustain myself. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Shifting your legs, so they could sit comfortably on his lap, you couldn’t help the way heat began to blossom within you. 

“All that matters to me is you, and if I have to leave it all behind for you, then I will.”

“Kento…” you could say anything but his name, your heart overwhelming you. 

“I love you, and I don’t care for how long we have known each other, this is the truth, my truth.”

You lunged at him, holding him in a tight hug, resting your head within the crook between his neck and shoulders, your sniffles muffled in his shirt. 

“I’m assuming that my feelings are returned, then?” he chuckled in your ear.

Releasing him, your noses grazing each other, your eyes and face streaming with tears, and before you knew it, you had bent down, pressing your lips against his. You could feel his shock, Kenot definitely not expecting you to do something as bold as this, yet you couldn't care, especially not after he relaxed, before feeling him beginning to kiss you back. He tasted slightly sweet, of the apple donut the two of you ate together. As you kissed, your legs spread slightly, allowing your hips to slowly grind against him, feeling a slight groan leaving his lips.

With your lungs begging for air, slowly letting go, taking deep breaths, a sliver of spit connecting your wet lips with his own. Nothing but the sounds of your breaths, before looking into his eyes, they were dark, filled with a mixture of love and lust, and it was all for you. 

“Kento…” you trailed off, but he shook his head,

“We shouldn’t,” he tried, but your nails dug into his hair, keeping his eyes right on you, “you,”  he let out a gasp as your lips soon attached themselves to his neck, “you have the cafe to open–fuck–” he suddenly choked, his head being thrown back at a certain spot at his neck. 

Glancing over, you looked at the clock, watching the two hands click around the 7 and 9 numbers, before looking back at Kento, smirking.

“Grand opening is in two hours… I’m sure we’ll be finished before then, if not, I'm sure the kids downstairs can handle it, Kento,” you teased, smirking as your tongue slipped out of your mouth, slowly trailing against his neck. 

He let out another shaky gasp at the sound of his name, your tongue, his grips sliding down to your baggy sweatpants, squeezing your bottom. 

“BOSS!! We’re low on apple cider! And we got over a hundred people coming! Stop locking lips with your boyfriend and get down here!”

Your eyes widened at the sound of Maki pounding away at the door, the two of you jumping at the sudden sound. You glanced at each other, suppressing your smile while seeing Kento’s tentative own appearing on his face, 

“Guess they couldn't handle themselves,” Kento joked, before lifting you up on your feet and fixing his clothes. 

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, as you pulled your hoodie down, “more like they just want to block my blessings, they can easily make that apple cider by themselves”

Turning around towards your door, before taking a step before suddenly being flipped around, a squeal leaving your mouth before being muffled. Your lips pressed into a sudden kiss that disappeared as quickly as it came. Eyes widen, looking up at Kento who simply winked at you before keeping his arm right around your waist. With no other words, your own arm wrapped around his hips before walking towards the door.

SIX YEARS LATER

The hot summer sun shined down on the two of them. The sweat on his brow slowly dripped down, his arm reaching up as he wiped the slate liquid off his face, swaying from his blond eyebrows. Then, with a lot of force, he lifted the heavy ax with his hands, holding it high in the sky, he brought it down with equal force. The sharp edge of the ax sliced into the rotting wood, the strength easily splitting it into little pieces. Behind him, he could hear a little bit of grunting, glancing behind him, he saw Yuuji’s foot underneath a shovel, the metal part dug underneath the roots, and the ground lifting along with the roots. 

“Yuuji, I told you to leave that to me, you need to finish grinding the rotting wood,” Kento spoke, slowly placing the ax down in a safe place. 

The pink-haired young adult whines, “you’ve been doing a lot of this recently, I can’t let you do everything! Boss told me to help you!”

Kento shook his head, a smile on his face, “she knows better than to think I’ll let you do this, go grind the wood, we need it for the compost for the new trees from the nursery.”

Yuuji pouted, but he let go of the shovel, walking over to the pile of split wood, along with the woodchipper and its attached container, sitting on the stool. However, before he could turn it on, a voice called out to the two of them.

“Daddy!!” A voice screamed

Kento’s furrow relaxed, a smile appearing on his face as he turned around, only to be faced with a beautiful site. At two years old, his daughter, Kaia, was full of energy and spirit, her smile wide as she was running up to him. Kento looked over at Yuuji, seeing him already up and collecting the ax and shovel to keep away from her as she approached them. Behind them, you were walking up, your curls out, slicked up and held together, shining against the summer sun, wearing a simple, bright purple bodycon dress. In your arms, a basket hung from your elbow, probably with lunch for everyone out here. 

“Oh, my baby,” his smile was wide, as his daughter ran into his arms, her little arms wrapping around his neck as much as she could. 

“Daddy, you stink,” her little face grimaced as she sat in her father’s arms. 

Her words didn’t deter Kento, in fact, it only made his smile wider, “oh I stink, huh?” is all he said, before wrapping his arms around her tighter, hearing her little squeals as she tried to squirm out of his hold. 

By the time Kento let him go, you had already arrived at the area where they were working. Yuuji screamed “Boss!”  before making his way over towards you. 

“I see the two of you have been working hard,” is the first thing you said, running your fingers through Yuuji’s hair as he gave you a long hug. 

Kaia ran back over to you, her arms wrapping around your legs, easily attaching herself to you. Kento walked over to you, seeing a smirk slowly appear on your face as he stood right in front of you. His arms crossed as you tilted your head, following his actions and crossing your arms as well. 

“Well, hello to you, Mr. Nanami,” you teased, slightly straining your head to look up at him.

Almost immediately, his arms shot out, wrapping themselves around your waist, “and hello to you, Mrs. Nanami.”

Kento leaned down, prepared to kiss you, his wife when all of a sudden a loud “eeeewwww” suddenly stopped the two of you. Kent glanced around, while you looked down, no longer feeling a pressure on your legs. 

“That’s nasty,” your daughter called out, sticking her tongue out as she sat in Yuuji’s arms. 

“Come on Kaia, let’s leave the two of them alone.” Yuuji said, turning around while holding your daughter.

Kento heard giggles leaving your mouth, his heart beating as he heard them. Even after all these years, you could still incite such a reaction from him, his cheeks already pink from the hot summer sun, only deepening as your hands slide from his arms to his hips. 

“If you're gonna go, you should take this basket, it’s got lunch for all of us,” you called out to Yuuji, who swiftly came and took the basket out of your hands.

Kaia shifted from his arms to his back, commanding Yuuji like a horse to go faster, running into the orchard towards the pond. Now with the two of you alone, nothing stopped him from leaning down, softly pressing his lips up against your glossy ones, so familiar with the texture, urging him to deepen the kiss. Despite the two of you living together and mainly working in the same place, he kissed you as if he had been away for a month. He could feel your hands gripping the fat and smile of his hip, your head and back bending backward, your knees buckling underneath the pressure and pleasure of the kiss.

The moment he let go, you let out a breathy “Kento,” your eyes fluttered as you looked at him. 

Four long years, it’ll be four years in the winter season when he made a decision that changed his life for the good. In those four years, he quit his job at Gojo Inc., but still kept his stocks in the company, as well as a well-packaged pension, a gift from Satoru and Suguru when he made his decision a year after meeting you. The two of you got married two weeks after he quit his job, and nine months after that, the two of you welcomed your gorgeous and lovely daughter as well. In those four years, life has changed immensely for both you and Kento.

Your uncle no longer came by, no more threats to you for the orchard. Kento, Satoru and Suguru made sure of that. Megumi went abroad for school, pushed by you, Yuuji, and Toji as well. With confirmation that you and he will talk every week, he went on a prestigious scholarship to one of the top schools globally. Yuta, Inumaki, Maki, and Nobara all go to the college closest to the town, with them still coming on the weekends and breaks to work. Yuuji decided to follow in his older brother’s footsteps, working as a junior officer at the station, but he still works at the Orchard as well. 

It’s been an eventful four years.

He hadn’t spoken to his father in two years, an obligatory call when the man’s birthday floated around the corner. After that call, it was time to let him go, hiring an at-home nursing company to take care of the elderly man until his final days. The feeling of you pinching his side brought him out of his mind, looking down at you to see your face, while smiling, eyes filled with concern.

“Everything okay up here?” you mumbled, one of your hands leaving his side.

He shivered as he felt your hands run through his hair, the shorter nails scratching against his scalp. 

“Everything’s fine,” he mumbled back, his head bending back in slight thrill at the feeling of your running lines through his hair.

“Just happy, at everything that’s happened, how much my life changed the moment I came here.”

You smiled, lifting yourself up at the tips of your toes, before placing a longing kiss on his cheek, “I’m assuming it changed for the better?” you questioned.

He nodded his head, before tightening his grip on you, his heart leaping out of his chest as he heard your squeals as he dipped your body down. 

“Kento!” You squealed, holding onto him, as he leaned over you, beginning to press kisses all along your face. 

The sun hovered over the two of you, shining over your love as he kissed you, and you accepted his love in full force as well. In the background, you could hear your little girl telling the two of you to hurry up in her little sweet voice. Slowly lifting you up, Kento held you close, feeling your head leaning against his arms as the two of you walked into the Orchard, towards the pond. 

What good is a man, if he is a lost man?

He’s not good to anyone at all, but now a lost man has something to look forward to. A light to guide him. 

A lost man has been found and surrounded with the love he deserves. 

[loliwrites]

II. Strength | Edelweiss

pairing: joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+, minors dni  warnings/tags: jackson era!joel, sharpshooter!reader, age difference [joel is mid 50s, reader is early to mid 30s], joel lives forever fight me, reader being a bona fide badass, canon compliant violence, hunting mention, infected and terrible humans present, mention of death, blood, and murder, hunger, passing mention of trauma-induced menopause, DUBCON [mention of a previous event], quick flirting bit with jackson!male oc, female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, joel’s really just a big softie, no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k series masterlist

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate all they were trying to do for you. You did. Truly. In a time when not giving people the benefit of the doubt and becoming entirely xenophobic was not only the norm, but easy, Tommy and Maria encouraged the others within Jackson to treat you like one of their own. At least for this month. During your trial period. Probation. And you appreciated their patience with you as they tried to assimilate you into the culture. Dina hadn’t grown frustrated when your lack of upper body strength made feeding and watering the livestock difficult. Seth only made mildly offensive comments toward you when you fumbled orders at the Tipsy Bison and poured a pint of beer that was nearly all foam. Maria managed to hide her disapproval of your lack of enthusiasm to what you could only refer to as Jackson beautification. In reality, just a small handful of the townsfolk delegated to cleaning up the commune. Landscaping. Trash pickup and disposal. General maintenance. And of course there was Wendy who never balked or complained when your greenhouse shifts turned less into an act of work, and more into a study of the edelweiss.

The real problem was that you knew you could never serve them in the capacity they hoped for like this. Maybe in a different life under different circumstances, you could’ve played this role perfectly. A yearning for something else wouldn’t have been present, and you could live a somewhat normal, happy life in Jackson. And with just a week left of your trial run, you told Tommy as much. Told him that you really did appreciate him, but this wasn’t working out. Told him that you’d never been good or reliable at anything except with the use of your gun. Told him that the men in the other group hadn’t brought you along on scouts only because you were a good lay. You didn’t need to be a good lay, it’s not like they cared one way or the other. It was because you were a sure thing with your gun. Told him that he was right – you didn’t miss very often. And told him that if they wanted you to be useful to the community, they were going to have to trust you enough to get you out on patrol. That you wouldn’t go rogue and shoot your partner.

Tommy nodded. Diplomatic. And said you were right. That he’d been denying the thing he knew to be your true talent. That he’d give you a shot and let you take his place on patrol for a day. Joel, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic when his brother told him the news. Something muttered over his shoulder as he pushed past you to get into the armory, like, if she fuckin’ shoots me, Tommy, I swear to God…

You followed him into the armory, where metal cases on the wall, currently unlocked and unlatched, held a line of rifles and handguns. All looked a little different, coming from all walks of life before they ended up in Jackson. Somewhere behind you, you heard Tommy yell back at his brother, at this point, I’d fuckin’ shoot you, Joel. But it all drowned out to nothingness because the very real discovery in front of you was that your rifle wasn’t among the others in the cases. Yours was gone and a fury started to grow inside you. Which one of these scummy, good for nothing…

“Here,” Joel said gruffly, nudging your arm. 

In his hands, outstretched in your direction, was your prized possession. You grabbed it from him without hesitation; fingers running over the wood and metal, searching for anything that hadn’t been there almost a month ago when you’d last touched it. Anything that clued you in to the fact that someone else had put their mark on it. But you found none. And while still examining it, Tommy led you out of the armory and toward the gate with the other patrolmen.

“You and Joel are at the ski lodge today. It’s about a thirty minute ride north. Usually not too many sightings of anything up there, but the infected start to migrate in with the colder weather so you gotta stay sharp,” Tommy handed you the reins to a horse, which you immediately went to mount. And once settled atop it, with your rifle in one hand and the reins in the other, he spoke again, “hate to say this as you’re heading out, but… that’s my brother, so if somethin’ happens to him, I’m comin’ after you.”

“Yeah and if he does somethin’ to me, who’s goin’ after him?” You tugged the reins to the left, angling toward the large wood gates that you’d stepped through for the first time three weeks ago.

In a community yet not part of the community. It was a weird limbo to be in. That hadn’t happened in the last group – even if that was only fueled by their desire to get in your pants. Maybe that was the reason you weren’t part of this community yet. And you couldn’t even blame Tommy. Had you not killed the man who’d obliterated your family three weeks ago? Had you not taken the chance to hunt him when it was presented to you? Why would Tommy be any different?

You weren’t sure if Joel only spoke under the veil of darkness. The most words he’d ever spoken to you were on the porch that first night. Every other time – during the day – it seemed he went out of his way to avoid getting near enough to have to speak to you. But here and now, on patrol, there was nowhere for him to go except the same place you were going. And though he rode even with you (you took it as a great success that he didn’t remain a few paces behind you with a gun pointed in your direction), his eyes remained fixed straight ahead. His lips pulled into a thin line.

“She’s your daughter?” you chirped, almost too happily given that the response you’d get in return was an icy glare. “The one I saw on the first day. When you jammed my gun into my back,”

Joel returned his gaze to the wide open space in front of him. The lodge so close now. The muscle in his jaw clenched; teeth gritted.

“She hangs ‘round the barn a lot. To see Dina. Always has something to say about you. You two in a fight?”

“Drop it,” he growled.

You smiled to yourself, taking his verbal response as a win. You forced him into speaking. “I was a teenage girl once. Nothing seemed to piss me off like my parents could. They weren’t even bad parents. I suppose it would’ve been different if they had been. But that’s the thing about teenage girls,” you dug your heels into your horse and got it trotting away, toward the lodge, “they always run home to father.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

It was more spectacular of a place than you ever thought you’d see. A real-life palace. High ceilings. Big windows. You were sure at one point the furniture would’ve been considered luxury. Now it was worn and dusty and showed its age.

Joel approached a small table off to the side and flipped open the cover to a leather bound notebook. He scanned through the pages until he settled on one about a third of the way through. There must’ve not been anything particularly interesting in it, because it was just a quick glance before he closed it.

“So what do we do?” You looked up, inspecting the high-points visible from this great room. Rifle angled down at the floor.

His answer came delayed as he angled his head to the left, seemingly listening for something. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone, “clear it, then post up on the upstairs balcony. You take the second floor. I’ll clear down here,”

“You’re not gonna shoot me, are you?”

Joel turned his back on you and started toward a large doorway at the opposite end of the room, “not on purpose.”

Inspecting your new surroundings once again, you found the stairway to the second level and slowly ascended it, rifle poised and ready. God, it felt good to have it back in your hands again. It had been like you’d had a limb missing for the last month. You were complete again. Restored with the bountiful confidence that maybe was foolish to have in this day and age. Hell, you could turn a corner and a clicker could be in front of your face. Coming back to that reality, you got your head back on your shoulders, your focus on the task at hand, and every one of your senses tuned in. 

Each new room you entered, it grew harder to keep that focus. It was all so grandiose, and maybe even in the very back of your head, you wondered when this patrol was going to take the turn that all previous patrols had taken. You remembered the very first one – with George and James. They’d made you prove your skills by taking down a mountain buck a quarter mile down the barrel of your gun. It was child’s play. Almost insulting that they’d think that was anywhere near a hard shot. And of course you made the kill. An hour later after you walked to it and the men finished field dressing it, James pushed you up against the nearest tree not covered in deer blood, and ripped your pants down your legs. At the time you didn’t know to fight him on it. Maybe fighting him on it would’ve gotten you in the same position as the deer. But if you had known that was going to become routine, maybe you would have.

Now this was your first patrol with a new group. With a man no less. And a man that seemed to wield a great deal of power in the community. A man that, if he went back to Jackson with something bad to say of you, meant that Tommy would be comin’ after you. An eight year sentence had already been served, what was a little bit longer?

Joel called your name from what you assumed was the stairwell; his voice distant but growing nearer. You spoke up to give him a clue of your whereabouts, and only a few seconds later, he entered the room you were in. The sling of his rifle over his shoulder. You’d found yourself paralyzed in thought in what you only knew to describe as a library. A long wall of books, some sad-looking, broken lounge chairs, and a long velvet upholstered couch. Dusty and in desperate need of a cleaning, you figured it was still a better option than up against a tree.

Joel looked up at the wall of books and closed the gap between you, “y’read much?”

You could sense him right behind you. Over your shoulder. The energy was buzzing off of him, and you figured this was it. “Not really,” you turned to face him, and set your gun down at one side of the couch. “How do you guys do this?”

“Do what?” His eyebrows furrowed, ultimately confused.

Hands gesturing between your bodies, you almost felt annoyed at his level of coyness. Couldn’t he just get on with it? “The sex,”

Joel choked on his breath and hacked out a cough, “what?”

“It’s just been a month, so it’s gonna be…” your hands migrated down to your pants and swiftly undid the button. Joel’s hands quickly flew to your wrists and held them still. You caught his eyes on you and the look made you want to disappear into thin air.

“We don’t do that,” his eyes flicked down to his hands where they held yours, and he released them and stepped away from you in one fell swoop. “How many times did they do that to you on patrol?” Joel's entire expression fell.

“Every time,”

“Fuck,” Joel scrubbed his hands over his face. He knew people were terrible before the outbreak. Knew men found ways to press their will onto innocent women. But there was nothing like the apocalypse to make people even worse. He couldn’t relive this memory… of finding Ellie after David and the sheer look of fear and panic on her face. And then when he removed his hands from his face and looked at you again, whatever memory he didn’t want to relive, was emphasized by how much he didn’t want you to relive it.

“Sorry,” you murmured.

“No,” Joel cut you off, shaking his head almost angrily. “No one’s gonna do that to you here. ‘nd if they try, you send ‘em my way, alright?”

You nodded sheepishly.

“Alright,” Joel reached past you and picked up your gun from the couch. He thrust it back into your hands, “balcony’s out this way.”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

“You ever think someone could see your head stickin’ out from above the railing?” The question came with more sass than you thought it would. That type of tone would’ve gotten you something terrible with James and George.

You were belly down on the deck, barrel of your gun positioned between the wood slats of the balcony railing; well concealed. Joel, however, was kneeling next to you, head above the top of the railing, with a pair of chunky binoculars in front of his eyes. And from the corner of your eye, you saw him yank the binoculars away and look down at you with a lopsided grin. 

“When you’re my age, it’s a little harder to get down like that. Might never get back up,” he chuckled and lifted the binoculars up to his eyes again. “‘Sides, don’t you think I’d see ‘em first?”

“No,”

That made Joel laugh a little harder and he relented to abandoning his post as it stood, and turned over, ass down on the ground with his back against the railing. He took a deep breath and set the binoculars beside him. A quick glance to the side at you – which you caught from your periphery again.

“How long have you and your daughter been in Jackson?”

His eyes widened, and at that, you pulled your eye away from the scope and returned his gaze. You thought the new eye contact would send his focus elsewhere, yet you were the one who folded first. Too nervous to withstand more of that ice cold, death stare. You set your cheek back on the gunstock and looked down the scope, scanning the treeline west of your position.

“Ellie,” Joel huffed and turned over onto his stomach. Propped up on his elbows, he picked up the binoculars and looked through the slats in the railing. “Awhile,”

“How long has she been ignoring you?”

“How do you know she’s ignoring me?” Neither of you looked at each other, but in the silence he continued, “not as long as we’ve been in Jackson.”

“And how much longer do you think it’s gonna be ‘til you spot the two runners?”

Joel snapped to attention; the ferocity of his movement heightening as he moved the binoculars vigorously, searching. “Where?”

“Half mile down the edge of my nose,” your sight stayed locked on the two runners, hobbling out from the treeline. It took Joel an extra moment. Time for them to come out into the open. Then the rustling beside you began, and you knew it was Joel scrambling to get his gun. “Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, pulling off the glove on your trigger hand with your teeth, then quickly chambered a round. But he still kicked and went for his gun, vibrating the old wood beneath you. “Stay still, goddammit!”

Whether it was because no one had ever dared to speak to him that way before, or because he just didn’t expect it from you, Joel did pause. Now standing straight up and holding the binoculars to his eyes, spotting the runners, it allowed you the chance to take action. A slow and steady inhale gave you the opportunity to line up your sight with the head of the first runner. An even steadier exhale as you got ready to apply pressure to the trigger. And then when your lungs were empty, you paused your breathing and squeezed the trigger. Your shoulder absorbed the recoil of the gun, and a second later through the scope, you watched the first runner fall lifeless to the grass. Without much rush, you chambered another round to go for the second, while beside you…

“Shoot!” 

Joel was as good as tuned out right now. Nothing could have rattled you short of your gun being physically ripped out of your hands. Inhale. Exhale. Shoot. Only when the second runner collapsed to the ground, a victim to your skill, did you pull your eye away from the scope, and brush the shell casings away from your side. Clambering up to your knees and eventually into a standing position, you looked out toward the trees. 

“C’mon,” you tilted your head to the side, urging Joel to come with you. “If someone’s out there, they’ve seen my muzzle flash twice from this position. Let’s move,”

You turned to re-enter the lodge, figuring you could just as well post up at one of the upstairs windows. Joel fell in step even with you, holding his gun at his side. “How long’ve you been shootin’ like this?”

“Twenty-some-odd years,” you mumbled coolly, re-entering the library. “How long’ve you been hard of hearing in your right ear?”

A smirk flashed over his face. It was there and gone in an instant and was quickly replaced by something resembling pain. “Twenty-some-odd years,”

⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾ ⌾

The rest of the patrol was quiet. Thankfully. Though you had complete confidence in your skill, it was always a better day when you didn’t have to rely on it. Having to rely on it meant you were in, or were shortly going to find yourself in, a sticky situation. As the mid-afternoon sun beat down hard, you were relieved by Jesse and Astrid – two people you’d only happened upon in passing in Jackson. Before leaving the lodge, Joel showed you how to fill out the log book, writing down your names, and documenting what had happened. When he noted “two runners spotted and downed at treeline”, you insisted he write your name there, clarifying that you had been the one who killed both infected. He begrudgingly agreed.

The ride back to Jackson was even quieter than the rest of the patrol had been. Whatever camaraderie had been established at the lodge seemed to have been put on ice the closer you got to the tall gates of the commune. It was almost as if Joel found it acceptable to be a friend to you as long as he wasn’t near the rest of the town. The first words actually spoken on the ride back was when he instructed you to stop your horse. He pulled two flags out of his pocket – one white and one red. Instructed you that white was all clear, and red meant… well, you know… not all clear. Told you that you better wave that flag high and proud when you were coming back from patrol. More than once in his early days in Jackson, someone on lookout on the wall had taken pop shots at him when his waving of the white flag wasn’t up to snuff. You glanced up at the wall and took stock of the guards there – two on either side of the gates, moving to open it up, while their partners remained at high attention, for anyone or anything that might’ve been trailing you back.

It was almost like you had forgotten that the worst part was about to happen. You’d dismount your horse and have to carry on into the armory, whereupon your rifle – which you’d just proved was your best asset – would be ripped from your hands and showcased up on a wall for the taking of any regular joe. Surely that would happen. Because just one foot crossed the threshold before Joel was ripping your rifle out of your hands, steadily moving up to one of the cases on the wall where he replaced his gun. You knew you were about to see yours right up alongside it. But then the strangest thing happened. Instead of stowing your gun next to his, he took yours back deeper into the armory, into another dark room. And too timid to follow him, you remained frozen in place, eyes locked on the doorway until Joel came back through it empty-handed.

He ambled back to you, his arm bumping against your shoulder, “c’mon, I’ll walk you home.”

And he did. And you let him. Trust was always a choice and though not many people had deserved yours in the last handful of years, you chose to give Joel – and Tommy and Maria – the benefit of the doubt. If there were shades of Joel that resembled the men of your last pack, you figured they would’ve come out while on patrol today. Away from everyone else. When you were still new enough for everyone to take Joel’s side instead of yours. But he’d treated you kindly. Like a human. God, wasn’t that just the absolute minimum. The bar was in hell.

Though Joel knew where your cottage was, and probably knew the quickest route to get there. He let you dictate the path. One you were sure wasn’t the fastest one. One that meandered through more of the quiet house-lined streets than was necessary. But it had been your preferred path. Almost like you were doing a neighborhood watch. The sorts you’d done on your family’s land long before George and James scooped you up. It gave you a sense of normalcy; and in it, the strength to turn your head and look up at Joel.

“What’s in that back room in the armory? The one you left my gun in.”

Seemingly catching your gaze out of the corner of his eye, Joel shifted his focus to his feet, kicking up dust with each new step. “Tommy’s got a chest,”

“A safe?”

“S’not that high tech. Just a box with a lock on it. If I’m bein’ honest, it’d be pretty easy to break into,” he looked up from the ground and into your eyes, finding you already nodding. “I know not having your gun on you here was a sacrifice. Least I could do,”

Lips parted and ready to speak but nothing came out. You ascended your porch and nudged the front door open. Maybe the action itself caught Joel off-guard because he hadn’t assumed anyone would leave their property unlocked, but when you looked back at him, he was approaching the threshold with a furrowed brow. “Actually, it’s not the least you could do,” you stepped further into the house and left the door open for him, figuring – knowing – he’d follow. “Reckon you could do far less. So… I appreciate it. Thanks,”

And then, pulling open the refrigerator (a true luxury in this day in age), you remembered the hunger. And just how much you were lacking in the ‘ability to host guests’ department. The appliance was mostly devoid of contents. Just a spare apple and a handful of carrots you’d managed to sneak out of the greenhouse. Maybe that wasn’t the way to go about things in Jackson. But to be honest, you weren’t really sure how to go about it. In a rush, you closed the door so Joel wouldn’t see just how struggling you were. But when you turned to face him again, you found him by the modest wood table. Fingers nudged the “Diva Cup” box off to the side.

“You can give that back to Maria,” you mentioned off-hand. So much so that Joel nearly jumped backward. 

He pulled his hand back and shoved both into the pockets of his jacket. With a gulp, he swallowed down a breath. “Might need it. You– I mean– the women– we don’t got any of the other things here,”

You forced a smile, “I don’t need it.”

“‘Kay,” Joel nodded and took another breath. As soon as the fresh air filled his lungs, he had something else to say, “you don’t need food neither, or you’re on some weird apocalyptic diet?” He grinned a little wider when the look on your face turned positively pained. 

“I don’t have anything to trade for food, so…”

The crease between Joel’s eyebrows intensified in his confusion, “when’s the last time you ate a full meal?”

You shook your head, fearing that if he saw you in the slightest bit weak, it’d mean you’d be cast out. “I’m fine. It hasn’t been that long,”

“When,”

You looked up at the ceiling and shook your head again. “Tommy and Maria asked me to eat with them at the dining hall,”

“When?” Joel insisted.

You shrugged your shoulders as if you’d had so many full meals recently that it was hard to pinpoint this one. When in reality… “Last week sometime,”

Before you knew it, forks clinked on porcelain. Porcelain. Another luxury. You couldn’t remember the last time (outside of Jackson), that you’d eaten on a real plate and not some tin container or by picking things off a spit and putting them directly into your mouth.

Yet the tableware was really the least interesting thing about this. The meal – prepared by Joel. The whiskey – real. The setting – his fucking house. How different it was from your modest dwelling. Yours, impersonal, sparse with nothing there that was really yours. But a little bit of Joel was in everything here. The tattered boots being dried by heat from the fireplace. The guitar laying on the couch. The wood trinkets that sat on almost every imaginable surface. After asking about them, he confessed that he’d taken up whittling with all his new free time now that Ellie wasn’t talking to him. 

And through it all, you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for how domestic this all seemed. Imagined this was what you would’ve been up to at this stage in life if the world hadn’t screeched to a halt and done a 180. You could see yourself at a table just like this with a husband a little bit like Joel. Big. Brooding. Could see yourself sitting in front of the fireplace with your husband. Reading, catching up. How was your day? Oh I just ran a couple errands. And when the catching up was done, you could see you and him going up to your shared bedroom, having some passionate entanglement, and then passing out. In another reality, you imagined you could really see yourself enjoying sex. 

“You don’t have to trade anything for food,”

You looked up from your plate and over at Joel.

“You’re working in the community. Goin’ on patrol, putting your life on the line to protect the group. That’s why you get to eat. Not ‘cause you got something else to give,”

“Didn’t want anyone to think I was bumming for handouts,”

Joel shook his head and scooped through his food despite using a fork instead of a spoon. “You’re workin’. So grab yourself some things from the greenhouse, and I can help you butcher up some meat. You’ll need the strength,”

His mention of the greenhouse sparked your memory. Of something you’d meant to ask him on patrol. But after the embarrassment you’d faced propositioning sex, and then the adrenaline of having to prove your skill, it’d slipped your mind. “You been to the greenhouse lately?”

He shook his head again and looked up at you, reaching for his glass of whiskey, “I’m pretty much on patrol full time.”

“Wendy’s got this flower there. Edelweiss, she calls it. I’ve never seen anything like it. She said Jesse found it on patrol and brought it back. Was wonderin’ if you knew where he found it?”

Joel took a quick sip and set the glass back down, quickly moving back for his fork. “Probably fuckin’ poisonous or somethin’,”

“No, it’s pretty. Little. She said it sometimes grows right on rocks. Kinda weird, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s kinda weird Jesse’s out pickin’ flowers when he should be focusing on a patrol,”

You giggled. Joel had a point. Of all the things of importance in today’s way of life, gardening seemed to be the least of it. And yet… “I think it’s kind of romantic of him. Maybe he picked ‘em for his partner.” Then, staring at Joel from the corner of your eye, “you got a girlfriend?”

Joel coughed at your abruptness. He set his fork down and took up his whiskey tumbler. “Tommy’s tried settin’ me up with a couple women,”

“No one serious?”

He smirked and shook his head. Picked his fork back up and stabbed at a carrot – your only contribution to the dinner. “They all seem to come to the conclusion that I’m cold,”

“No,” you elongated the end of the word with feigned disbelief. “Not with your sunny disposition,”

Joel laughed. Admittedly it was a little shocking at how easy it seemed to come from him. “Big talk from someone who just spent the last eight years with a bunch’a scumbags,”

“Yeah, well, I’m fucked up.”

His smile lasted a little longer. Long enough for you to both get your wits about you and where you’d brought the conversation. “You ever have a boyfriend in that group of assholes?”

You shook your head with a grin. Consider one of those guys a partner? Absolutely not. “Never had a boyfriend, period. Sounds like a feat but it’s actually not hard when the world shits the bed in your adolescence and your entire existence becomes warding off strangers or muddling through some bad dick just so they don’t shoot you.” With one last bite, and now sufficiently full, you leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“Jesus,” Joel wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned back to match your posture.

“But you… I bet you were batting off women left and right before the outbreak,”

Another fond smile swept over his face, “I had a daughter so my escapades sorta tempered out there.”

“Ellie’s not that ol–”

“Ellie’s not mine biologically,” he stretched out and stared at his hands. “Guess she’s really not mine at all. Just a kid I met along the way. Can’t even get her to look at me,” Joel finished off his whiskey in one big gulp and set the glass back on the table with a heavy clink. “Did’ya mean what you said earlier? ‘bout teenage girls?”

Your eyes flicked back to Joel’s face. He looked pensive, almost hopeful that you had. That Ellie would run home to father. And even if he wasn’t actually hers, that she would indeed come back to him. “I did,” you assured and leaned forward in your seat. With hands outstretched across the table, you reached out for Joel though you knew he wouldn’t reach back. “There wasn’t one thing in life I didn’t run back to my dad for. Dad could fix anything. F’I didn’t know how to handle something… if I couldn’t handle something… he always picked it up for me. That’s what good fathers do and I reckon you’re a pretty good father. She’ll come around. Everyone runs back to safety,”

[kyupidu]

hello1! 1! 1 id like to ask for a yandere glisten x reader if ur comfy w it :3 u can also add headcanons if u like! (Can u also make reader a magical girl toon? Its just that my dw oc is one and I just like to mention my oc x canons here haha) (つω`*)

● Perfect.

Yandere!Glisten x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, forced affection(?), tied up reader, maybe ooc glisten(?) maybe spelling mistakes, idk.

Notes: hai! Sorry it took me a bit to make your request i barely have any inspiration which is also why its so short and crappy. On that same note I wasn't sure how to put reader being a magical girl into this so I just made reader female, sorry I hope you still enjoy tho!

Oh you were so perfect for him weren't you?

Like two puzzles pieces, you and him were made for each other. He needed you, and you needed him. Or well so he thought. But it didn't matter what you thought, after all your the one who's tied up.

Glisten thought as he studied you in your bound state. "You understand why I had to do this right?" He said as he fiddled with the light pink ribbon he had tied you with. It was the same he wore, you looked perfect with it. You looked perfect with.. him.

Your muffled cries were ignored as he caressed your face with a loving look on his face. "You just kept giving others your attention, it's was so annoying. Your eyes belong to me, why would you wanna stare at anyone else??" He said looking at you with an annoyed look on his face.

"Atleast that wont be a problem anymore, now you will only look at me." He said caressing your face only to be interrupted by you turning your head away from him and squirming trying to get away. Letting out a heavy sigh and forcing you to look at him "Stop being such a brat! Or that pretty face will be adorned with bruises." He said looking at you angrily.

You quickly stopped not wanting to be hurt more than you already were, after all you thought that glisten was your friend, someone you could trust. You wished you could've known, maybe that would've saved you from this fate. "Good girl. You can't run from me... literally." He said laughing at his own joke "Because no matter how far you go, I'll always find you." He said holding your face with both of his hands.

Oh he loved you so much, he would do anything for you. He yearned for you. He could never get enough of you. He wished you loved him as much as he loved you, hopefully eventually you'll get used to being with him. Because you would never leave. You were made for him, you were where you belong. So you will stay perfectly with him, forever.

[melon-fodder]

SCORNED || A FEMALE RAGE COLLAB

RULES

18+ only (this is for the safety of my friends/moots and myself)

minimum 500wds, no maximum

fanart is also welcome

open to any and all fandoms

x reader, x oc, character x character allowed

pieces must have something to do with the female experience/female rage

Dark Content allowed and encouraged

NO DEADLINE

The rage never ends, so why should this event?

You can create something lighter, perhaps a healthy relationship that gives you the space to reflect on all the ways you’ve been taken for granted by previous partners. You can create something angry and violent and go full purge-mode. You can create something that lands somewhere in between. Canon setting, modern day, medieval, future. The story is yours. The choice is yours.

Yes, there can be love and fluff and smut. However, there should also be at least one man involved who gets his balls served to him on a silver platter (literally or metaphorically).

Create something for you—for your experience, for your rage. Fandom has always helped me express myself, so I hope this event can help you too. Make it personal. Make it dark and loud and mean. Make it yours.

HOW TO JOIN

-> send me an ask (off anon obviously), shoot me a DM, or message me on discord (if you have my handle) and let me know which fandom + the character/s you’d like to create for and a vague idea of the piece (example: getting back at womanizer!Toji)

When you’re ready to post your piece, make sure there are proper warnings and tags and then either link me in it or send the link to me so I can add it to the masterlist below!

ANIME

@hideandgopeep - dazai (bungou stray dogs)

@hayatoseyepatch - sukuna (jujutsu kaisen)

@silentgravesdontexist - hoshina (kaiju no.8)

@ryescapades - narumi (kaiju no.8)

letter by @ambiguouslady42

-> loid forger || spy x family

@dollfacedbunny - furutu nimura (tokyo ghoul)

VIDEO GAMES

@bluebellhairpin - arthur morgan (red dead redemption 2)

@unboundbnha - tbd

[littlejuicebox]

LittleJuicebox Masterlist

Click here for my AO3 account. (Converting is a WiP).

If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please DM me and I can send you the google doc link. I have decided to keep tag lists for each individual series so you only get tagged in the ones you want.

My personal favorites are denoted by a +.

GN reader is denoted by a * otherwise assume Fem reader/OC.

Titles colored red are smut or other mature themes, 18+ only.

AstarionxWren Series:

This is a canon-adjacent passion project which focuses on Astarion and Wren, a ranger half-elf with her own backstory. She is based off my first Tav. Do you like angsty slow burns where two broken people find one another and learn to love again? Then this one is for you.

Chapter 1 / Chasing birds to get high (PG) + Chapter 2 / Between comfort and chaos (PG) Chapter 3 / Sunshine and midnight rain (PG13) + Chapter 4 / Protect the flames (M/Gore) Chapter 5 / Blue and silver bonded (PG13) Chapter 6 / Remember how it feels to have a heartbeat (PG13) Chapter 7 / Give peace a chance (M/Smut) + Chapter 8 / Dancing in a burning room (M/Gore) Chapter 9 / Lavender haze (PG-PG13?) Chapter 10 / I want to hold your hand (PG13)

Midnight Chimes Series:

Your parents own a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was somewhat of a regular when you worked at the bar in your younger years. You don’t exactly trust him. Now you’re an apothecary owner based in Waterdeep, and when the two of you crash on the beach, you aren’t exactly thrilled to see him there, too. But things aren’t always what they seem.

1 / The Prologue +

2 / Three years

3 / Luck +

4/ Ringleader

Midwinter Carol Series:

Eirianwen and Astarion were in love before the Ascension ritual changed his behavior toward her. She refused to become a spawn, and they went their separate ways. The story starts when they run into one another fifteen years later; Eirianwen returned to the city to deliver some news to the pale elf. Meanwhile, the Ascendant had a night time visitor that convinced him to change his ways, and he believes his ex-lover might be the key. Will he be able to change after fifteen years of living life as a debauched degenerate?

1 / The Prologue +

2 / The Barrier

3 / The Carriage

4 / The Auction +

5/ The Repeat

6/ The Affliction

7/ The Interrogation

8/ The Scheme

9/ The Snake

AstarionxReader One Shots and Mini-Stories:

Mini-Stories are grouped together in order and denoted by a “Part X” in sequential order after the title. These are in general "timeline" order and follow my (admittedly self-indulgent) headcanon for Spawn Astarion x Tav but can definitely be read as OneShots. All stories are AstarionxReader, some allusions to reader having spellcaster ability but otherwise no real description apart from being female in about 3/4 of the fics.

Act 1-2:

The little things.

Before someone steals your queen

Act 3:

Drunken nights*+

The nail salon

You'll stay still, won't you, little love? +

Post-BG3:

Mermaid whiskey+

Baking Cookies*

Astarion talks in his sleep Part 1*+

My Sun, My Moon Part 2+

Glowing in the Underdark+

Reflections on one year of marriage

Highharvestide Part 1

Highharvestide Part 2

Handmade+

Dadstarion:

The wish spell worked.+

Daddy?

Little bump.

Labor and joy

Skin to skin.

Milk.+

Little lockpick.

Beach babies.+

A growing brood.

Puppy love.

Stuck.

Pre-BG3 / Random / Ascended Astarion OneShots

Midnight chimes / The Original One Shot

Pre-BG3. You’ve known Astarion for years… or at least, you’ve known of him. You think he’s a rake, but one night he changes your mind. The series "Midnight Chimes" started based off this "prologue."

A Midwinter Carol / The Original One Shot

“A Christmas Carol” but Ascended Astarion is Scrooge. He sees you after your break up 15 years ago, and then has an unexpected nighttime visitor showing him past, present, and future. Will he be convinced to change his ways? The series "Midwinter Carol" started based off this "prologue."

Naughty or Nice?

You’re Ascended Astarion’s little toy in the middle of a party. TLDR; he’s tease and a BDSM dom.

Dancing on my own

[applesontheground]

some of my lies are true 💼

KINKTOBER 2024 | DAY TWENTY ONE - BATH/SHOWER SEX

been reading the novelization recently, as i've mentioned, and being reminded of the one scene with him telling christie to wash herself before fucking her was calling to me when i was mapping out this month and saw the bath prompt...

and come on now, like i wasn't going to set aside at least one day for him, right? revisiting him after starting the book and getting even more of his character than i once thought possible with me has been nuts.

p.s. this reader is a returning PR agent from this fic since i liked that setup a ton. she's slowly becoming an OC in the back of my wip folder, but i have a lot of other things going on so she's not 100% there. (yet.)

NSFW | Word Count: 988 | Patrick Bateman x Female Reader contains canon typical/mr. bateman is his own warning, fingering, mild asphyxiation, biting, two weirdos kissing 🎼: x

Keeping up with multiple affairs had been exhausting since meeting Patrick. That was in both personal and professional lives, and you weren’t being paid to keep up with your personal ones, so that was the one that took the fall.

Visiting on a night he was able to clear the evening from his usual rendezvous, endless business lunches and nights out, he asked if you’d come over, bathe yourself, and then see what the two of you would want after. Gladly, craving that harsh love only he seemed to give, the perspective so cold and yet so tempting, fascinating – especially after you had garnered his attention, his need to have you becoming too intense to tease any more without getting your throat cut over it should his fantasies prove larger than life – you accepted, even worked with him and his schedule. It wasn’t like you needed the plans yourself, also having to be up in the morning for a meeting with your manager.

When you had made your way over, he was already running the bath, and the second the door was closed he had given you a couple love bites around your neck in greeting. Leading you into the bathroom, he talked about what new CD he had bought that day, and also what wine the two of you would be drinking. Even while you undressed, hoping he’d notice you shaved, but not anticipating anything outside of what he wanted to focus on, he was talking about his disappointment with the day's episode of The Patty Winters Show.

“You took my advice.” He then observed when you finally stretched out in the milky water of the tub, a hand on your collarbone and feeling the skin of your chest with a warm hand, “You have a much clearer complexion, and I assume that’s from the cleanser I recommended.”

You nodded, “And the lotion. Great combination, I see why you were swearing on it.” He beamed at that, and then commented, “I want you looking pristine, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other more often.”

“You almost make me sound impressive,” You found another word, sitting up more in the bath with a sarcastic tone, “Exclusive.”

“You are." He corrected, speaking more heavily, "and I’m thinking that you’re playing dumb with me. You know that you are.” He reminded with a hand ghosting around your neck before pulling away. “Especially now that no one else besides me is going to be sleeping with you.”

That was a work in progress, knowing he was still engaged to Evelyn, having a sidepiece discussion with Courtney…and you didn’t believe he was done with any other hookups outside of that. His friends were just as messy and scandalous, and considering you always had a project open at his office, it was a hopeless game to try and fight over. That was something you were going to ask regardless, and even if he lied you knew that he didn’t really care about how you felt now that the two of you were in a comfortable attachment, knowing you wouldn’t resist if he asked you to come over next week despite the truth hanging in front of the both of you.

You then looked up and asked, “I feel selfish, are you getting in the bath too or is this just to watch me?” He stared through you, letting the silence and the sound of the water against the tub fill it, before finally standing up again with another drink from a whisky tumbler. He shouldered his robe off, showing his body to you and satisfied with the way you sized him up.

“Normally, I don’t join with the prostitutes I bring home. The washing is solely for them,” He explained, one leg in the tub and you taking in his physique while listening, “And I don’t think it’d be smart to be in the same bath as them. Don't you think, [Y/N]?”

You grinned, tipping your head as you amicably replied, “Sure.”

“Good.” He lowered in, and then gestured, “Sit between my legs.” You did as you were told, sliding in and letting his arms come around your sides, a casual hand touching you and the other running along your body, soaked in warm water and making you sigh deeply.

“Is MacDermott still picking up trash off the streets at Tunnel?” He asked, and you replied, “Yes. Caught Chlamydia sometime last month, and now it’s my job to hide the break his wife wants to take, keep him from losing composure at work.” Bateman laughed in your ear, breathing against your shoulder as he scrutinized, “Dumb bastard.”

“And what about you?” You then asked, his finger trailing up your sternum now, probably imagining what it would look like if he dug inside with a knife to see it for himself. His morbid thoughts couldn’t help but become yours some nights, especially when he wasn’t indulging you by telling you.

“Evelyn asked me if I would accompany her to a live show, even though she knows I hate it.” He started to rant, splashing you with the water but you digressed in favor of simply listening, “I can’t stand her friends, and of course she invited them too so they can cluck like hens all night, already shrieking about how much she’s always loved George Michael. I could care less.”

You looked up behind you, “Since when did you hate George Michael?”

“Since I first heard him.” He gritted, the hand returning to your neck. He then leaned in with access to your lips from your turn, kissing hard and making sure to bite your bottom lip in a red hot pressure before releasing. The idle hand went back down, once again prodding your entrance and slipping inside when you showed a sign of discomfort.

"Nice of you to shave," He commented, kissing you again as he finally turned the water off.

[sunlit-skycat]

Pale by Wildbow shill post

“The practice, as we call it, is best summed up as an ongoing contract. By pledging to make your word inviolable, forces in this world will start listening. Routine, ritual, and expectation have formed the grooves and determined how best to communicate with those forces. Diagrams, symbols, knowing who and what to appeal to. Many, many things become possible. If your word is inviolable.” [...]

“Something terrible happened, of a scale that words cannot easily convey. We need you to look into it,” Matthew said. “No need to solve it. Simply… look into it.”

Overview

Pale is an urban fantasy web serial about three girls Awakened into a world of magic in order to solve the murder of a Judge, a supreme being that oversees magic in an area. Soon, however, they discover that the very roots of magic are built off of systemic injustice, and that outside forces want to destroy the meager sanctuary that they have been charged to protect.

Why you should read it

Pale has a huge meta-system that tries to provide an explanation for how all fairy tale type of magic works. When one Awakens, they give up their ability to lie, but that doesn't stop Practitioners from trying to mislead everyone around them. Nothing comes for free. The easiest way to deal with the costs of Practice is to pass them off to someone else, which over the years has led old Practitioner families to exploit magical creatures and each other to do their bidding.

In a way, Pale really reminds me of the Harry Potter fandom, particularly the newer fics that try to examine all the unexamined issues that Rowling put into the worldbuilding and never explored. It tackles subjects of imperialism, child abuse, community building, and justice. There's a lot of fun things to discuss about it, including whether the protagonists ultimately got it right at the end.

Many of the characters in Pale are marginalized in some way. Of the main characters, Lucy is the only black girl in a rural Canadian town and sick of it, Avery is a lesbian and doesn't know how to come out to her dubiously tolerant family, and Verona's single father is an abusive emotional black hole that wants to drag her down with him. Overall, there are a lot of well-realized female characters who are allowed to let their sharp edges cut others in the story.

The fandom

Pale had an earlier prequel work set in the same universe called Pact, which features different characters and settings but has roughly the same magic system. Because of that, it's most useful to think of the fandom as an being composed of an umbrella group, called Otherverse or P-verse by different places, and then subcategories of Pale, Pact, and OC focused works.

The main cast runs young, so shipping isn't big in the fandom, but if you like f/f potential Pale is pretty decent for it. The OC fic tends to have a lot of queer main characters as well.

On Dreamwidth, I run sister communities at blueheronteanook for canon character based fic and meta, and hillsgladehouselibrary for OC fics. There also is a discord server for these communities, the Blue Heron Tea Nook.

You can read Pale fic on Ao3 here.

Where to read it

Pale can be read online here: palewebserial.wordpress.com/

There also is a fanmade audiobook that goes up to arc 10, about 1/3 of the story. It's on Spotify and Podchaser.

[hyperactivewhore]

hi I love your blog we have very much the same opinions in everything except klamille is my favourite klaus ship and klaurora is second

I have been trying to enjoying klaus fics or any tvdu fics on wattpad but every thing I have read so far doenst show the characters accurately which is very annoying

I was hoping and want to request if you could give me some recommendations on fics on wattpad that are good. (Mainly klaus but any love interest would be good)

could you please give a short summary/review so far of any recommendation you give so I don’t waste time starting one only to not like ir

sorry if I am sounding rude English is not my first language but I can read it fully thank I you very much

Don't worry, you're not sounding rude at all, if anything you actually sound really sweet. I'm glad we share some opinions and I'm really honored you came to me for some suggestions.

I haven't read long fanfictions in a while outside works in ao3, I left Wattpad a few time ago but I'll still try my best, tho I'm not very good at giving summaries. Fair warning these are mainly fanfics I've read in Archive of Our Own, not Wattpad, but I hope it's not a problem. If it annoys you, send me an ask and I'll give you some Wattpad recommendations!

Patisserie (ao3, poly Mikaelson siblings x original female character, no incest) by @wickedlyemma:

Stats: (published: 2020-12-29), (completed: 2023-03-12), (words: 154,943), (chapters: 45/45), (comments: 4,385), (kudos: 8,469), (bookmarks: 1,799), (hits: 279,967)

Tags: Polyamory, Sugar Daddy, Self-Indulgent, Explicit Sexual Content, No Incest, Slow Burn, Not Canon Compliant

Summary:

I think we've all read those kind of tvdu fanfics where the main character is a teenager, usually related to the Gilbert or the Forbes, still in high school and who suddenly stops trying to make a life for herself just because she gets dragged into the supernatural world. Well, Patisserie is the opposite of that. For once, the main character isn't a teen but an adult around her twenties, who works at a bakery and is completely unaware of the supernatural world until Klaus decides to change that.

The slow burn is is truly worthy of a chef's kiss, the way the author describes and writes the Mikaelson is just so on point it hurts. Their family dynamic is so entertaining to watch, but it's as fucked up as it is in the show, which it's something not many authors can accomplish. The way they behave around the main character, a simple human, it's so amusing because they truly know nothing despite their age and she's just so easy to relate to, because for once the oc is not ridiculously overpowered.

The way we perceive the Mikaelson and the vampire world from a human pov is truly interesting, how she copes with all of it and eventually learns to love all of them individually while being aware of the danger is so well done. Kol and her, as well as her relationship with Klaus, are particularly interesting to read, especially considering how they all behaved around her at the beginning and especially because both of them are the most dangerous members of their family. They are all selfish creatures, and I love how it shows the more their relationships with her develop.

Apotheosis (ao3, Klaus x original female character) by atriums;

Stats: (published: 2022-01-01), (completed: 2022-12-13), (words: 158,264), (chapters: 31/31), (comments: 606), (kudos: 1,817), (bookmarks: 491), (hits: 69,472)

Tags: POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sex, Sexual Content, Devoted Reader, Author Rejects Canon and Substitutes It with Their Own, Cannibalistic Werewolf Cults, Nobody Is Good But Also Nobody Is Evil, These Characters are Flawed and Problematic (Probably), This Fic is Not a Bastion for Healthy Characters and Relationships, Reader/OC Especially, Reader/OC can be any ethnicity

Summary;

You know those fanfics who fix (almost) everything problematic in canon? Apotheosis does exactly that. In this story, Klaus isn't a complete irredeemable character for once, but he also isn't half as bad as his canon version, and due to the oc being a werewolf, this fanfic does expand on his werewolf side a little more than The Vampire Diaries or The Originals ever did. His family and him actually have a healthy bond, and Finn gets the recognition he deserves for once.

The story is set in season three of TVD, exactly when Klaus and Stefan are trying to make hybrids for his pack, and in a ironic plot twist, Klaus decides to take you with him when you're still a werewolf after you say you're not worthy to be a hybrid, at least not yet.

Her devotion to him is completely endearing and I absolutely love how Klaus actually cares for his pack, especially because they're all canonical characters who were killed way too quickly. Her relationships with the members of their pack are so well written, and this fanfic it's the perfect mix of humour and seriousness. It has a ongoing sequel, which I just adore. I warn you though, all the characters have several differences from their canon versions.

Twisted Obsession (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by rocket-queen98;

Stats: Originals, M, English, Romance & Angst, chapters: 16, words: 59k+, favs: 1k+, follows: 1k+, updated: May 6, 2023 published: Aug 13, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] Elijah M., Hope M.

Summary;

Lola is one of the most adorable mc I've read. She is human and around nineteen, if I remember correctly, and just a sweet girl and adorable. She's introduced into the supernatural world thanks to baby Hope, who is just the cutest, due to her needing a mother figure now that Hayley wasn't present in her life thanks to the curse placed on her.

Her relationship with Hope is my favorite part of the whole fanfic. She doesn't suddenly turn into her mother, she doesn't intend to either, but rather becomes her best friend and Klaus and her develop a bond thanks to this. The way father and daughter interact is so heartwarming too, the subtle hints of them being werewolves, and seeing a main character having a good relationship with her father for once is a good turn, especially in tvd fanfics.

It's clear Klaus and Lola have something going on, even if they won't admit out loud, but for some reason the people around them give the impression they don't actually want them to date. There is implications something more fucked up than usual is going on with Klaus and his relationships, and I'm pretty sure him and Cami were a thing in this fic too. Surprisingly, Hayley and Cami aren't turned into absolute bitches, but there is Jackson bashing though.

The Girl in the Forest (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by noblecrescent;

Stats: Originals, T, English, Mystery & Romance, chapters: 30, words: 311k+, favs: 232, follows: 176, updated: Feb 19, 2017 published: Jan 23, 2016, [Klaus M., OC] [Elijah M., Camille O'Connell]

Summary;

This fanfic is a tetralogy of books set in The Originals, I read those fanfics a while ago so forgive me for any mistake. Maleny is a witch who was cursed, if I remember correctly, and was constantly body-jumping every short time.

In one of her lives, she met Klaus and they fell in love, but she died, if I'm not wrong, and they end up meeting again in New Orleans time later where he has a child on the way and a kingdom to conquer.

I can't remember a lot more without giving you spoilers, but it's worth checking it out!

Now, I'll give no more summaries because I honestly don't remember a lot of the next fanfics, but it's your choice if you want to read them;

A Veil Between Love and Hate (fanfiction.net, Klaus x original female character) by MandalorianHybrid;

Stats: Originals, T, English, chapters: 57, words: 200k+, favs: 609, follows: 359, updated: Sep 15, 2019 published: Jan 30, 2014, [Klaus M., OC]

Summary; Another five books set in The Vampire Diaries, with a story that eventually moves to The Originals.

Allure (wattpad, Klaus x oc x Stefan) by @viavolterra;

Stats: 575k Readings, 20,5k Votes, 34 Chapters

Summary;

I just could not not recommend this fanfic. Mia comes to Mystic Falls to seek revenge after Damon kills her best friend Lexi, but she of course gets dragged by the problems in that little town.

The thing I like the most about Via's story is how there is no cliché: no bashing towards Tyler or Elena, Mia actually befriends them, Bonnie gets the recognition and love she deserves, Klaus doesn't suddenly turn into a different person just because he loves the oc, he continues to be a piece of shit, and how sweet and empathetic she is, not like those reused badass mc who are just rude.

I would recommend some more, but it's kinda hard to find fanfics with a good Klaus depiction. I'm pretty sure I left out a lot of amazing fanfics, though.

[sebastians-asks]

You seriously thought I wouldn’t have a Tumblr?

Look at me, of course I have a Tumblr.

Anyways, send me something… Or don’t. I don’t really give a shit.

NSFW:

✮ ; idm like nsfw things jokingly just not.. like straight up weird shit.

✮ ; i may post nsfw jokes from time to time, i’ll put labels on them though so you can avoid them

shipping:

this blog is multi-ship and i just kind of go along with oc x canon aswell, everyones in their own respective universeshehe..female/male/anything is welcome.

mod:

✮ ; ^^ mod will go by miles on this blog ,, feel free to address me by that. i go by he/him.

you can contact me on here but i also don’t mind if you’d rather find me on @deadguywalkin,, though i’m a little more active here

((i’m not using any of my actual info for unfortunate personal/safety reasons </3

tags:

#😎 anon timeline ,, #sebs-asks-ooc ,, #seb angst 🦇 ,, #seb fanarts 🌙 ,, #long rp 🎱 & various bit tags

most importantly, the love of everyones life.. #prince samson 👑 , !!!! thank you creatures anon

extra:

✮ ; if i don’t reply to your ask, tumblr probably stole it from me. you know how this web is.

✮ ; i leave little notes in the tags sometimes if u want to see my personal thoughts lol

✮ ; !! seb blogs, please make sure to contact me if you want to use some of my seb sprites:3 i don’t mind the usage of them, but i’d just like to know beforehand and a little credit sumwhere

other characters blogs, please interact!!!! for funsies lolz)

[evans23]

Loving you is a losing game

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Reader OC

Summary : The Judge Turpin has married you by buying your hand to your father. Determined to not let him get close to you and even less reach your heart well kept under ice and resentment, you keep on to push him away. But after having been told that loving you is a losing game, something new seems to awake inside of you.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Forced marriage. Assault.

A/N : Hello dear 😁 here lay my first Turpin fiction. I didn't really know where I was going with it but here is it. I didn't proofread it so there are probably some mistakes, sorry for that. I forgot to mention I am not the one who came up with the name Richard. I read this name in the terrific trilogy “Judged and Sentenced” from @deepperplexity. Since then I saw the name pop up here and there and so, I suppose the name is sort of canon now 😅

Part II

Read also on AO3

You couldn't put up with the fact that he had bought you. But it wasn't really him, your husband, that you despised for that. It was your father. The man you thought you could always count on.

You had had quite an easy childhood with not too many constraints, which were rather rare at that time. You had been taught to read and to write. And you were a good writer. Such a good one that one day, a publisher from a local and independent Newspaper from London made you sign a contract to edit some of your short stories in his Sunday paper. And as he was well known in the literary sector, he put you in touch with a book publisher. This is how you became "Alexander Bryant" in the eyes of the public. Of course, you weren't able to be published under your real name. A female writer ? What an offense !

But you didn't really care as you were able to make some money from the sale of it. Some really good money, a rarity for a woman. It was fortunate as, for the biggest desperation of your father, you weren't, in any way possible, a good maid. You couldn't sew two points in a raw correctly, your cooking wasn't palatable at all and if you appreciated living in a tidy house, you couldn't spend more than one hour or less doing that.

But you didn't have to worry about it now as you had been married for two months to no one else than "The Death's Judge".

"How did it happen to me," you muttered to yourself, looking at you in the mirror without really seeing your reflection.

In fact, you perfectly knew how it had happened. You didn't know how and you didn't know where, but Richard, your now husband, had noticed you one day and since then, your faith was decided.

He came one day to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you. You had looked at him suspiciously. You knew who he was. His reputation preceded him of course but you also had a glimpse at him one day when you were at the court with your publisher and one of his associates to negotiate the terms of your new contract with a solicitor.

At that time, you didn't think anything peculiar about the man. You vaguely remembered having thought that he was quite handsome with his hooked nose, his tall frame and his charismatic presence. If you hadn't been forced to marry him, you would have admitted that you had found him alluring.

But here was the point : your father had sold you to the man.

That day when he came to your house with his bloody flowers and his absolutely not appealing smile. He had asked to talk with your father and you had fetched him as quickly as you could, afraid that he was in trouble.

He wasn't in trouble, nevertheless, the call of the money echoed deeply in him when Judge Turpin offered a generous dowry for your hand.

"I apologies to have to tell you are in the wrong Judge Turpin."

The man had looked up at you with a frown.

"This is the woman's family who have to provide you with a dowery and unfortunately, no one here is in measure to give you a penny."

It was half a lie as you kept your money in security into a chest under your bed. You weren't quite honest about your earnings with your father as he was quite a spendthrift. So, you helped him by giving him a small amount of money, keeping preciously the rest away to constitute a nest egg for later.

Absolutely not bewildered by your interruption and your statement, Turpin had grinned before announcing that you were the one making in mistake in this particular case.

"I had the sincere desire to marry you and as I just said, I will give a compensation to your father for the loss of his precious daughter."

You had retained a laugh, persuaded that never ever my father would agree to such an obnoxious offer.

You were so wrong. The Judge had let you some days to think over the offer he had laid on.

Tempted by this important amount of money Turpin was willing to pay to ensure that your father handed over your hand to him, your thoughtful father didn't need to think too long to accept his offer and in the blink of an eye, you were betrothed.

You had protested, swearing that you would prefer to kill you rather than marry the man, the deal was sealed without you having a say. In any way, no one was willing to listen to you.

During the ceremony, you were full of apprehension, afraid about your wedding night. But for your biggest surprise, nothing happened. After the party, the both of you retired in the privacy of his opulent mansion, he showed you your room and left you alone.

Your new house was daunting, not up to your expectations. The exteriors were quite imposing, displaying the wealth of the Judge, but the inside was… not really gloomy but also not really lively. It was as if the house was uninhabited. And you discovered later it was the case. Turpin, Richard as he asked you to call him, was seldomly at home. He departed for the court early in the morning and came back late in the night. Since your wedding, you didn't share a meal together and your only company was your maid.

For such a big house, he didn't have nearly so much staff as one could expect of a man of his stature would have. A cook, three maids, whose one had been hired exclusively for you, and the Beadle. You didn't really know who the man was and what clearly was his function beside your husband but you couldn't stand him. His ratty face didn't inspire you any confidence. He seemed deceitful and ready to betray his own mother if it could bring him any advantages.

"Like Richard," you said to no one as you were looking out the window at the crowd running around the city.

Hadn't you been so resentful about the latest events, you would have admitted that your life wasn't as bad as you imagined it would become after your wedding.

He didn't touch you that night nor any other after that. He didn't try anything which could have distressed you, didn't restrict you from any freedom you thought you would be longing for. You were allowed to write, he was more than happy to furnish you the papers and the ink you needed and he had arranged a room for you to make your office. You were allowed to go out, only on the condition to stay in the richest part of the town and you could visit your publisher when needed without his approval. His only wish was that you let your maid know when you were leaving the home. You weren't dupe, you knew that as soon as you set a foot outside, he was informed. But even if he was aware of each of your movements inside and outside the mansion, you were still able to enjoy your freedom, a privilege a lot of women lost after being married.

He also lavished you with presents. Valuable jewelry, the most beautiful dresses you had ever seen, books, flowers. Not a week had passed without an attention for you. In the beginning, you hesitated between bringing the presents into his office to let him know you didn't want to have anything to do with him but well aware of his reputation, you had been afraid of infuriating him. After all, you didn't really know the man and he could retake what he had given you at any time.

So was what you told to yourself rather than admit the truth : you were flattered and pleased to receive such beautiful gifts. Should someone have utter that maybe you could come to appreciate your husband you would fervently have denied it. After all, how could you become accustomed to him without having the opportunity to speak with him ?

The only moments shared together were on Sunday. Richard wasn't a fervent believer in God and neither did you, so you had a lazy Sunday at the mansion. It was the only time during which you ate lunch and diner together and during the afternoon, he systematically invited you to join him in the parlor but you rarely spoke to one another. In general, both of you were reading. Sometimes, you brought with you your ongoing book and he would ask you random questions about it. He had once admitted to having your previous literary work.

"And what did you think of it ?" you had asked with a feigned indifference.

Your stoicism hid your nervousness. You couldn't fathom why you felt nervous about his opinion about your work, but you were.

"Well my dear, It is unusual for a woman to write about such things as a vampire. Even less a love story like this one. Does the sexual tension between the human lady and the vampire make on purpose ?" he had asked bluntly.

You had nodded once, your cheeks flushing at the mention of some somewhat suggestive scenes from your book.

"Well, I am impatient to read the next part of it."

And that was all.

Mustering up the motivation you were lacking to officially begin the day, you pulled yourself away from the window and asked the help of your maid to get ready to go out. You had to go see your publisher and then, you expected to have a walk in the park to make the better of the sunny day, which began to spread ahead as the hours passed by.

But nothing happened as you had planned. While you were walking in the street, you took a side road to reach faster your destination. It was a dark, filthy little street dwelt with drunkers and dwellers. You weren't really scared as you had taken this path numerous times in the past and as long as you minded your own business, you weren't really in danger. At least, it was what you thought. How wrong you were, you realized when a callous hand had fallen on your mouth.

"Your lost little beauty ?" asked a raspy voice.

You shivered, trying with all your strength to get away from the man but his grip was strong.

"Don't make it difficult little beauty, you will like it."

You bit his hand to blood, which earned you a ferocious slap on the face. You fell on the ground, a bit dizzy, trying as hard as you could to pull yourself together but you didn't have the time than his hand clenched at your hair, pulling you violently towards him. Standing you up roughly, making you let a squirm escape your lips, he pushed you against the wall, a hand on your breasts, another trying to find his way under your skirt.

Totally paralyzed, you were unable to move or even scream. Your breath became heavy as you stayed motionless even though you knew what would happen next.

He has approached his face from yours, his foul breath caressing your lips, making you want to throw up, when a snicker was heard.

Not really moved by the onlooker, the man had run his tongue across your cheeks, which had the effect of waking you up from your trance.

You tried to slap him but he was faster and knocked your head with his fist.

"Constable !' shouted a voice.

In one instant, the man was pushed down to the ground by two constables. Behind them were the Beadle. The snicker-man.

"Having dared to touch the wife of the Judge Turpin…" he muttered, enjoying the moment.

"It is something that will send you right through your death," he added with a horrendous laugh.

You have been brought back to the mansion by another policeman while Beadle escorted your assaulter to the prison, clearly enjoying what he had witnessed and the fate of the mongrel.

When you arrived, Richard was already torn, the worry imbued all over his face.

"[Y/N], dear, are you well ?" he asked his voice full of concern.

He tried to take your hand but you pushed him away before holding yourself tightly to retain your shivers.

He didn't follow you as your maid came towards you to lead you to the bathroom where she ran a bath for you. You soaked in the water until it was cold. Then, you called for your maid. At any other time, you would have dismissed her as soon as your bath was ready. You didn't like having someone around you to help you with something as trivial as drying you off but you were exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open. But it's not your maid who entered into the room. It was your husband.

"Richard…" you whispered, not daring to look at him.

You felt suddenly wide awake, the tiredness dissipated and replaced with something else. You felt ashamed about what had happened. You knew it wasn't your fault, for that man had acted with malignancy and it couldn't have been the first time. At this thought, you bristled.

"[Y/N], let me help you," he said, stepping in carefully.

He dropped a thick towel around you but when he tried to rub you in the aim to bring some heat to your cold skin, you backed away.

"Don't be afraid [Y/N]. I just want to help you. I will protect you."

He tried again to approach you but then again you backed away, trying to shut him out from trying to break through your shell.

"[Y/N]," he said almost desperately.

You shook your head, muttering for him to go away.

"Leave me alone," you said with anger.

"No ! I want to help you," he replied, looking with disapproval at the bruises which began to form on your face.

"I don't want your help ! I want you to go out. Let me be !" you shouted.

"No ! You are my wife, my place is by your side."

"I'm not," you retorted.

"What ?" Asked Richard, his own anger boiling up quietly but surely.

"I am not your wife," you said with defiance.

He made one step towards you and this time you didn't move, holding his gaze with fury.

"You are my wife. We had wed in front of our families and of God !"

"God has nothing to do with our marriage. You have bought a wife as we bought a dog."

"I asked for your hand because I am in love with you."

"How ? How could you be in love with me ? We have never spoken together !" you shouted totally oblivious that the staff could hear you. "If you were really in love with me, you would have courted me properly."

"Would you have agreed ?"

You didn't respond as the answer was obvious. Never you would have paid the slightest attention to his advance, but there wasn't the point.

"So, no matter what, you get what you want by fair means or foul." you spit out.

"My patience grows thin, woman." he warned you.

"And what are you going to do ? Giving me a beating ?" you asked brazenly.

He clenched and unclenched his fists several times. Never would he have laid a finger on you on the purpose of hurting you but you were clearly unnerving him far more than anyone before you had dared to.

"I try [Y/N]. I try very hard. You are the one unwilling to make any effort to come to me and get to know me."

"Buying a hand doesn't mean you buy a heart !" you retorted coldly.

You were about to add something else, something you wish was hurtful but you didn't have time as he cut you off.

"I tried to talk about your writing, about your childhood, your hobbies. You always answered me with monosyllable, always with a bored look on your face. I gave you space, I didn't coerce you to oblige to your marital duty, I let you go out alone as a proper lady shouldn't do. And this is how you thank me each time. By pushing me away. Again and again and again. Each time I try to show you kindness, you answer with meanness."

He had said that in a calm, poised voice but his anger could clearly be heard. He had talked with the calm severity of a teacher who doesn't need to raise his voice to make his disobedient pupils obey.

"Richard," you whispered.

"Loving you is a losing game but things are going to change, woman ! I am not to let you mess with me anymore. Yes, mark my words, things are going to change for you woman !" he growled dominating you with his imposing presence.

His baritone voice sent some shivers along your backbone.

With one last look at your bruised face, he quit the room, slamming the door behind me.

You stayed there for a while, stunned by what had just happened. He was right. Now that you thought about all the moments he had passed with you, never had you let him reach you farther than the cold surface layer that prevented the world from knowing the real you.

You were so angry about having been bought like an animal that you had never tried to be more acquainted with him. He was right, never ever he could have had your attention, even less your friendship and certainly not your heart if he hadn't barged in your home. And if you were totally honest, you would admit that you begrudged far more your father than Richard for the deal that was made that day.

"But He still didn't have my heart." you reasoned with yourself.

But inwardly, you felt as if it weren't true anymore. Not totally. You couldn't tell you were in love with him but for the first time, you were ready to recognize that you felt something for the man.

Loving you is a losing game, had he said but at this precise moment, you felt as if you were the one losing the game you had settled the both of you in. You were losing the game of hatred in favor of love. And this night, whilst you were staring at the ceiling, you found yourself hoping that he take back his words, that he came to the conclusion that loving you was worth it.

[thisreadswhatever]

Anything For The Club: Part Six

Will you betray Jax to protect The Club?

series masterlist

[description]: jax teller x female reader, reader x oc characters

[wordcount]: 3.2k+

[series cw]: 18+, female reader, swearing, sexual harassment/assault (non-canon characters), alcohol use, mix of fluff, smut and angst throughout, p in v sex, teasing, violence, gun use, mentions of blood, murder, blackmail

[authors note]: and that’s the end! hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it :)

“Assume you’re used to riding shotgun”, The President asked as he handed you a black helmet. 

You put it on and straddled yourself along the back of his bike. “Not usually in heels.” 

Realisation of the betrayal you were committing was crushing you. Here you were, sat on another man’s bike, about to ride off into nowhere so he could do god knows what to you. The guilt weighed on your chest as you gripped The President's waist from behind. You reminded yourself the reason you were doing this, Protect The Club. Protect Jax. 

“First time for everything, sweetheart.”

He kicked the bike alive, it roaring fiercely as he rode out of the parking lot. 

The journey was short. He pulled into a motel lot two blocks up the road. It was a quiet and dingy motel, known for its drug hookups and escorts. The exact kind of place you used to work before you had agreed with Jax to run Diosa. Jax didn’t like sharing, you were his and that was vital to him. You’d agreed that you’d both be entirely faithful to one another there on out, and you knew after this, he’d never forgive you. 

“Classy.” You muttered as you pulled the helmet off your head. 

“Ain’t gonna matter where you are once I’m inside you, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He placed the bike on its kickstand, and you followed as he made his way across the car park, up a flight of stairs and to room numbered 208. The curtains were already closed on the outside. He grabbed a yellow key card out from his back pocket, unlocking the door. 

You stalked your way inside the room, hearing the bolt echo behind you as he secured the latch on the door. 

The room was a simple, one large crimson bed centered between wooden side tables, home to two outdated lamps and a dusty bible. The President wandered straight to the mattress, sitting along the edge. He placed the manilla envelope on the side table closest to him before he pulled his cutte off. He slapped the mattress, coaxing you to sit beside him. Across from the front door was a bathroom that you immediately streamlined for. “I’m just gonna freshen up.” 

He laid back falling flat across the bed, “don’t leave me waitin’.” 

You closed the door behind you, sighing of relief for the brief moment alone. You looked at yourself in the mirror above the sink. It was cracked slightly along the edge, distorting the image in front of you. You turned the tap, letting the water run. The sound of the streaming fossett was soothing, and you closed your eyes with your hands clutching the sink, trying to overcome the sickness you felt burning through your stomach. You wanted to vomit. You took your jacket off, thrusting it to the floor, trying to breathe as you struggled for air. You’d never had a panic attack before but you imagined this is what it felt like. 

He’s got you right where he wanted, you told yourself. Alone in a motel and not a soul knows you’re here. You searched your jacket for your phone, before remembering you left it in the car at the diner. Calling for help was out of the equation. Your chest was tight, the sound of your heart thudding engulfing your ears as you tried to gasp for air. 

You didn’t have a phone, but you did have the gun. You could go out there and shoot him, take the envelope and run for the hills. And potentially start a gang war by killing The President of another crew, one that’s associated with the Mexican cartels. Dumb idea. 

Your last option, just give him what he wants, get the photos, and be done. You’d already made it this far. The guy was hardly the worst looking man on the planet. He was monstrous and crass but it would be a sacrifice of a moment compared to the loss of everything Jax knew. 

You let the water run through your fingers before you turned it off. You pulled your hair to the side of your neck, the cold water on your hands dripping down your skin. You can do this, you tried to convince yourself. Protect The Club. Protect Jax. You were going to have to break his heart, to save his club.

You heard a knock on the door at the same time it abruptly opened, not giving you any chance to respond. 

“I said don’t keep me waitin’, little lady.” 

“Just had to pull myself together.”

He crept towards you, and you instinctively turned into him, your back pressing into the sink behind you. 

“I can help you out.” 

His hands found your hair, clutching at the root as he pulled your head back. Your hands were grasping the edges of the porcelain, as he brought himself against your body, pressing his lower half into you. You were unable to move. He held you there, watching your face, taking in the sight of you completely at his disposal. 

Tears welled in your eyes, unable to be forced back this time, and they began to stream from your face. You realised at this moment that you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t force yourself to want this man. He placed a hand on your cheek, wiping away the drops with his thumb. 

“You look so pretty when you cry.” 

He pressed his face into yours, kissing you viciously. His tongue tangled against your lips as it searched for entry, but failed as you kept your mouth forced shut. He pulled your head back again by your hair, staring into your eyes. His eyebrows raised as he watched you sobbing, furious from your apprehension.

“I’m not gonna fuck a corpse. You better give me something back.” 

His hand released from your hair as he brought them down to your waist, pulling you from the sink. You stumbled against him, trying to find your balance. You wanted more time, a chance to think or just pause this from happening, to try and find a way out. 

You forced yourself to find his lips, kissing him back. You entwined your fingers through his hair, hoping you could sell the facade that you wanted him too. A smile formed at the corner of his mouth while yours did all the work. 

He seemed to relax before you pulled away, “should we go to the bed?” 

“Fuck the bed. I want you here.” 

He dragged the hem of your dress to expose your underwear, pulling you tight to his body by your ass. You squirmed at the feel of his hands on you this way, but tried to play calm to control the situation. 

Your heel tangled into your jacket beneath you, and you could feel your gun was right under your feet. You kissed him again while he palmed at your backside, dragging his fingers under the fabric of your panties. You lowered your hands down his frame, leading them to his jeans, rubbing against his erection. You crouched down to your knees, your eyes never leaving his. 

He groaned aloud as he watched you undo his belt buckle, your face parallel with his dick. “I knew you wanted this, little slut.” 

You ignored his degradation, and carried on feeling him with your hands. His head fell backwards, and just as his eyes left yours, you began to press your mouth against his cock, gnawing at the hard membrane covered in denim. Your mouth continued to distract him, as you searched the floor with your free hand, desperate to find the gun in your jacket pocket. 

Just as your hand reached the metal piece, your fingers twisting along the handle, The President looked down at you. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” 

You pulled the piece from the jacket, aiming it up at his chest. “Back the fuck up. Now.”

He chuckled at your advance, looking at the gun point towards him as he slowly stepped backwards. 

“Maybe you ain’t so smart.”

He backed through the doorway as you stood, continuing to aim the gun. He reached the bed, sitting upright on the edge, his jeans draped around his thighs. He smirked at you, looking directly down the barrel. “We had a deal, little lady.” 

You gripped the gun tighter, “I’m not your fucking lady.” 

A chuckle escaped his teeth, “You really do need my dick in that dirty mouth of yours.” You paced towards the side table, holding your aim on him as you walked. You kept your focus on his face as you reached for the envelope. “You got any idea what you're starting?” 

You placed the envelope under your arm, grasping the gun with both hands again, edging yourself further from the bed, until you were backed against the far wall of the room. 

“Nothing I’m not prepared to finish.” 

He held his arms out wide, taunting you. “I got a long list of enemies who would do anything for the shot you got right now.”

“I don’t want to kill you, asshole.

I want to leave this room, and pretend I never met you. I want you to leave my Club the fuck alone. I want to go back to my life before you existed.”

He closed his arms, and stood up slowly, pulling up his jeans and clasping his belt buckle back together. “Then I guess you better kill me.”

You readjusted the gun in front of you, “sit back down!” 

He ignored you, continuing to pace forward, step by step. “I can see why he picked you as his old lady. Got looks and balls.” 

“I said I don’t want to kill you, asshole. Not that I won’t.” 

He grinned, reaching for you, extending his arms out. “Don’t be like that, baby.” 

He was inches from you again, his chest now pressed against the barrel. You pushed it into him further, “I fucking mean it. Back the fuck up!” 

He didn’t waiver. “Drop the gun, sweetheart.” 

You pulled the trigger. 

The sound of the gun jamming rang through your ears, and you stared at him wide eyed. He slammed the gun from your hand, the metal flinging across the room. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them to the wall behind you, the envelope under your arms falling to the ground, images of The Club spreading across the carpet beneath your feet. He pushed you with force against the wall, crushing your wrists in his grasp. 

He spoke low into your ear, “No more choices.”

You tried to retreat, but the weight from his body engulfed you, making it impossible for you to move. The stubble of his beard scraped against your skin as his mouth moved against your neck. You screamed for him to stop, but the pleas fell on deaf ears, seeming to entice him further. His body was entrapping you against the wall so harshly that his hands could move freely, creeping their way under your dress as he tore at the seams, ripping it open. You recalled how it felt to be trapped by this man that first night you met at Diosa, and you knew now that had the eyes of the entire lobby not been present, this would’ve been your fate then. You closed your eyes, giving up the fight. 

Suddenly he stopped, interrupted by a repeated banging on the door.

“Y/n?” 

“Jax! Jax! I’m in-”, his hand slapped against your mouth. You bit the skin as hard as you could, but he didn’t release. Instead he plowed your body into the ground, laying over you as you crumbled to the floor, crushing you into the gap between the wall and bed.

He stared into your eyes as he held your mouth shut, whispering to you through his clenched teeth.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” 

Tears streamed as your muffled screams paused. You clutched his hand against your mouth, trying to pry it from your face. You could only listen as Jax repeatedly thrust his entire weight against the wood of the door, the metal latch bulking under the pressure. The bolt gave in, and the door flew open. 

“Jesus-” Jax was armed and reeling as he looked around the room. Your jacket, the gun and the images strung out across the motel room. 

Your mouth was released from his grip as he pulled you by your hair. You winced at the pain, trying to find your footing as you stood up. He held you there like a prize, showing off your exposed and broken frame, tears pouring down your face. Jax’s core was stiff, glaring at The President with a look you hadn’t ever seen from him before. 

His jaw flexed as he put his gun back into his cutte, speaking slowly through his gritted teeth. 

“Get your hands off her.”

Your blackmailer smiled, his hands twisting further into your hair. “We were only just getting started.” His hands never left you, taunting Jax further. He looked at you up and down, licking his lips before turning back to Jax. “You got a good one here, Pres.”

“You got one more chance. Then I’m done talking.”

He pulled your hair back further, and you swayed as your balance was rocked.

“Oh, relax. Only wanted to try out the slut for myself.” 

That was it, Jax lunged for him. Any restriction of his fury was completely unleashed, as he stormed across the room, grabbing The President by the head, slamming it against the wall. You were finally released from his grasp, and threw yourself across the bed, rolling onto the other side of the room. 

You watched as they fought against the motel floor, Jax on top of him, repeatedly smashing his head into the carpet with all his strength. The bangs against the upstairs floor rocked the supports beneath it, thudding as Jax gasped from the repeated exertion. The President heaved his elbow into Jax’s stomach, and he fell backwards sitting upright, his back slamming against the side table. The table lamp crashed to the floor as Jax launched himself back into the President, crumbling him again. Jax was on top of the President, pounding his fists into his face repeatedly. He smiled at Jax, showing his bloody teeth as he took the beating. 

But he didn’t let up, he continued to crush into him, his elbow dropping against his flesh, further forcing his face further into the carpet. Jax’s fists rammed into his face, for what felt like eternity, as blood poured from The President’s nose and mouth. 

The President reached beneath him, grabbing a knife from the sheath that hung from his jeans. He sliced into Jax’s leg, and he screamed out in agony, making you flinch. Jax dropped his knee onto The President’s hand, crushing the knife out of his grasp. 

His leg was bleeding through his jeans, but he didn’t stop. You watched as he endlessly beat the President into nothing, pure rage fueling his hands forward. Blood sprayed from the open wounds of his face onto the wall beside the bed frame, covering the floor and Jax too. Only once The President stopped moving, the groans from his mouth silencing, did Jax stop. 

He was on top of him when he glanced at you, hiding in the corner of the room, your dress tore to shreds and tears streaming down your face. 

He crawled off of The President’s lifeless body, crouching towards you. He wrapped you in his arms, and the relief of feeling Jax holding you again turned your tears into sobs. 

“You okay?”

“I’m so- sorry-”

“Shhh. Darlin’ you got nothing to be sorry for.”

He cupped your face in his bloody hands, his rings glistening red from the liquid. His eyes matched yours, water pooling at the lids. 

“Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “A few minutes later and he-”, you couldn’t continue as the sobs poured from your chest. He didn’t need you to say anymore. He hugged you tight against him as he stroked your hair, soothing your wimpers into submission. You looked up at him as he wiped the tears from your face.

“I had no choice- he was going to rat- he had proof-”

“I know, darlin’. Nero told me everything.”

“He did? But how did you find me?”

“Your car was still at the diner but you weren’t there. I didn’t know what to think-” he flinched at the memory. “I just kept riding, then I saw the bike parked outside the motel. I was checking rooms and then I heard you scream-” You kissed him before he could continue. His hands stroked the back of your head, “I’m here now, darlin. It’s okay.” 

“He’s the President of another club.” You wanted to look at the carnage but you couldn’t bring yourself away from Jax’s face. 

He took a deep breath, looking up from you to the body laying in a pool of blood across the motel floor. His body tensed as anger filled him again, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his mouth as it straightened into a hard line. “He’s nothing now.” 

You sat up from Jax’s arms, watching him as he stared at The President, his eyes shifting from care and sorrow and  morphing into pure rage once again. “They’re all done. Nobody is ever gonna hurt you again. You’re mine and anyone who touches you- they’re as dead as that guy and everyone that’s ever associated with him.” 

He shifted onto his knee as he stood up, taking off his cutte. He removed the black SAMCRO t-shirt he had on and handed it to you, before putting his hoodie and cutte back on himself again. You placed the t-shirt over your ripped dress, and stood up alongside him. Jax walked over towards The President’s body, collecting the printed photographs that surrounded him on the floor. He flicked through the pictures, scoffing at the evidence.

“This prick’s been trailing us for weeks. These are from a run two months ago.” He carried the stack into the bathroom as he examined the images, before igniting the corners with his lighter, leaving them to burn in the sink. He watched as the flames turned the paper into ash. “Are there more of these?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, “he said this was all he had.” 

Jax picked your jacket off the bathroom floor. He walked back to you, draping it over your shoulders. “Doesn’t even matter. His crew is good as dust.” 

You kneeled to the ground, reaching under the bed for the jammed gun. Jax looked at the weapon in your hands, “Did you try to use it?” 

You handed the metal piece to him, “piece of shit jammed.” 

He hugged you again, wrapping his arms around you. “That’s my girl. Least I got to pummel the cunt to death myself.” He placed the gun into his holder. “Let’s get you home.” Jax held your waist as you both headed for the door. 

“Jax?” 

He looked down at you, “you okay darlin’?” 

Your eyes peered back at the bloodied mess that had unfolded on the motel room floor.

“Maybe we should call that cleanup guy you know.” 

Jax smiled, kissing you reassuringly on the side of your head as you walked together. “I’m on it.”  

———

find my masterlist here

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 32

read on ao3! (146k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Warnings: animal death

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 32:

Two weeks later

Joel's POV:

“Get your gun out,” Joel commanded, pausing his own movements to watch as Juliet’s hand reached into the pocket of the jacket he had given her. 

That jacket had been with him since before Boston, before he had even met her, and now it hung from Juliet’s shoulders, marking her, in a way, as his.

Those months in Jackson, after he’d pushed her away in the cruellest way possible, Joel watched as Juliet formed a life for herself just as she had all those years ago in the QZ. He would watch her leave for patrol with aching terror weighing him down, and he would see her walk past his house with Ethan as that dark jealousy almost ate him alive. And when Joel came to his senses, and his world was drenched in thick regret, there was one thing that let him hold out hope that he could be forgiven, that there might still be a chance for them: When Juliet left for patrol with Matt, or ate in the dining hall with Ethan, or laughed with Tommy, she was always wearing his jacket. 

That mark of his depraved possession was still on her and Joel knew that deep down their connection remained. 

“I’ll do the talking,” Juliet announced as she tightened her hold on the horse and adjusted her gun in her other hand. 

She looked ready for battle. Her hair tied back in a ponytail and her face wiped clean of any fear. 

Joel still thought this whole trip was the most idiodic thing he’d ever agreed to. But to Juliet, it really was a battle. She was fighting for the truth about who she was, and what was done to her. She didn’t want revenge, Joel had already sorted that for her. Juliet just wanted to find a way to move on, and Joel would fight to give it to her. 

They stood in the field between the edge of the forest they had just travelled through and the fence surrounding Elijah’s community, or that’s what it had once been. Joel feared where the leadership landed following his death. 

Joel released a heavy sigh and focused his gaze on the tall fence in the distance. He didn’t see any movement but that meant nothing. The greatest threats were usually difficult to spot. 

He turned to Juliet behind him, allowing his eyes to sweep down her body. It was a nervous habit, Joel was always searching her body for any signs of hurt. 

When he closed his eyes he still pictured her lifeless body in that metal chair. 

His fists closed around his shotgun, tightening until his knuckles were a stark white. 

“Any sign of trouble, we get the hell outta there. You hear me?” he warned Juliet, already contemplating changing his mind and taking them back to Jackson before they even reached the fence. 

Juliet would find a way to get here on her own, Joel knew she would. That’s why he agreed to this fucked up plan in the first place. 

That crease between her eyebrows formed as she looked at him, then she nodded slowly. Joel allowed himself to take another breath, then another, as he turned back towards the fence. 

“Right, let’s get you some answers.” 

………………

They approached the fence cautiously. Joel walked in front with his gun ready and Juliet was only a few steps behind, holding the reins of his horse who walked beside them. 

The last time they’d been here, Elijah’s men had circled them immediately, having spotted them in the watchtower a mile off. 

Now, there was nothing. No security, no sound. But that’s not what made Joel pause. As they drew closer, he noticed that the towering wooden gate… was open. Almost as though they were waiting for someone to stumble in.

Joel turned back to Juliet, catching her wide eyes with his own. He shook his head quickly before turning back to the fence. He wanted her to stay where she was. Joel was going first.

That voice in his head was screaming at him to turn back. But maybe the town was just abandoned and, if Juliet could see that, they could head home, back to Jackson. Maybe Juliet would learn to live without closure. 

Joel’s already tight jaw tensed even further, his teeth grinding together as he walked quietly to the open gap in the fence and stepped inside. 

With his shotgun raised, Joel sweeped his eyes across the field in front of him and narrowed his gaze towards the buildings in the distance. 

It was empty. 

He stood for another minute, barely breathing as he listened. Still, he could hear no voices and he couldn’t track any movement on the mainstreet. 

Joel had been doing this for long enough to know that this initial observation meant fuck all if there were people hiding out in the houses, or waiting eagerly for him to draw closer before they decided to strike.

Something about this was different, though. He knew the history here. Their leader died a few months ago, and the townspeople seemed useless. Maybe the entire community just fell apart.

But why would they leave? 

“Joel,” a sharp whisper beckoned him to turn around. 

The decision lay heavy on Joel’s chest. They could turn around now, leave this place behind forever, and just put this whole quest behind them. 

Meeting Juliet’s eyes, and seeing the glimmer of sacred hope forged in them, made Joel decide otherwise. 

Slowly, he nodded, and let his shotgun swing from his shoulder as he wedged the fence open wider to allow Juliet and his horse to come through. 

Instantly, Juliet stiffened. She looked as though the weight of her memories were consuming her from the inside. Joel itched to sooth the crease in her forehead and erase every dark thought, but his hands were too rough and he could never find the words. 

“Don’t wanna be in the open too long,” Joel said, squinting in the winter sun, “if Danny is here, we better try and find him.”

Juliet nodded but said nothing, just tightened her grip on the horse and started heading towards the mainstreet. It was like she’d never left this place, the way her shoulders instantly dropped as she walked through the fence. 

Joel ground his jaw and prayed to whatever god still looked down on this wasteland that Danny was still alive and was able to ease the horror that lived in her head. 

…………………….

It was worse than he’d imagined.

Every house was ransacked. Doors were broken down, windows had been smashed in. The glass littered the rickety wooden porches. 

The people here hadn’t left willingly, if they had left at all. 

There were dark patches on the concrete pavement, trailing a map of spilled blood down the street. The stains were black, indicating that this had happened a while ago.

“Raiders,” Juliet whispered as her eyes flashed to him. 

It wasn’t a question but Joel still nodded slowly in silent agreement. They had both lived that life and knew exactly what mark it left behind.

Joel wondered how long the community had held out after Elijah had died.

Juliet let go of the horse’s reins to wipe a hand over her forehead, then she turned to Joel.

“Maybe Danny’s still here… he’s resourceful, he could have survived this,” Juliet said quickly, then paused, biting her lip as the reality of the situation seemed to hit her.

Joel gave her time, his eyes stayed locked on her face as she puzzled over their situation. 

Finally, Juliet inhaled a deep breath. “We came all the way here, we have to try,” she decided, reaching to grip the reins again. 

“Okay,” he ground out through his gritted teeth. 

If he had the guts, he’d throw her over his shoulder, get them both on the horse, and get the fuck out of here. But, in doing so, he’d be sacrificing whatever affection Juliet still had for him and he couldn’t let that go. 

Instead, he stepped in front of her, raised his gun higher and led the way down the street to where he remembered Danny’s “bar” being. If they were doing this, he wasn’t letting a fucking thing happen to her. 

………………..

“Shit,” Joel murmured under his breath as they approached the building. 

Panels of wood had been nailed across the door, blocking all sign of entry, or keeping something out…

“Take the horse,” Juliet said from behind him in a detached voice, as she dropped the reins and began to jog around the side of the building. 

“Juliet,” Joel scolded as he grabbed the reins and followed her. Joel’s heartbeat had begun to roar in his ears, echoing the desperate fear that consumed him when Juliet was out of his sight. 

He watched from behind as Juliet reached the gate around the back of the building and walked inside, with a carelessness that made Joel’s heart wrench. 

Every inch of the town was thick with an almost impossible silence and Joel cringed with every brush of their feet on the concrete. 

When Joel reached her, Juliet was standing at the back door to Danny’s building. Joel dropped the horse’s reins, stalked over to her, and gripped her arm, pulling her in a hard tug towards his body. Once she was plastered to his side, Joel dropped his mouth to her ear.

“What’re you playin’ at?” he demanded, breathless. 

Juliet’s breathing was quick and wild as she turned her head to blink up at him. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Juliet looked dazed, as though she hadn’t realised what she had done. From the looks of it, her mind was back in that basement with Elijah. 

Joel eased his grip on her. 

“You move when I move, that’s it,” he said in a cold voice, his heart still pounding. 

Quickly, Juliet nodded back. 

Joel turned to look behind him, his horse stood patiently inside the fencing that surrounded them. There was still no sign of people, so Joel decided it was safe to leave him out here while they searched the building. 

With his hand still circling Juliet’s arm, Joel swung her around until she was at his back, ignoring the sharp gasp she let out.  

The quiet that surrounded them seemed to scream in his ears like those old white noise machines people used to have. His thoughts condensed into one mantra: get in, get out, keep Juliet safe. 

The handle turned easily and Joel’s eyebrows furrowed. 

He pushed and held his breath as the darkness inside the building beckoned them in. 

It was in this bar that he had met Ethan, who confirmed the worst assumptions Joel had made about Juliet’s father. The memory was like a bitter taste in his mouth, reminding him of his own stupidity. 

He was always too fucking slow. 

Joel took a step inside, then another, and heard Juliet do the same behind him, mimicking his movements in the way only she knew how to do. 

The darkness was fierce as the boarded up doors and windows blocked any light from entering. Joel inhaled a breath and regretted it almost immediately. The air was thick and unusually humid like the bar hadn’t realised outside had turned to winter. 

Once they were in the centre of the room, Joel stopped, reaching a hand behind him until it hovered over Juliet’s waist. Then, he squinted his eyes and attempted to the best of his ability to search every corner of the room, searching for godknows what - 

“Who’s there?” a startled voice rang out in the empty room. 

Joel gripped Juliet’s waist tighter, pressing her to his back, shielding her with his body. He couldn’t see a damn thing, didn’t even know what direction the voice came from. 

Suddenly, he was blinking as an oil lamp was turned on, bathing the room in a soft, warm light.

Juliet stepped around Joel’s body. “Danny?” 

“Juliet?”

Joel stiffened as he took in the man before them. This was not the bartender he remembered. This man’s face was unshaven and his body looked as though he hadn’t eaten a thing in several weeks. His eyes were the worst. They had that starved look about them, the look that usually meant that he’d forgotten what it meant to want anything other than a meal. 

“Jesus,” he coughed out, stumbling closer as he walked around tables and chairs with a stiff, painful looking gait. “The last time I saw you, you were bleeding out on a table.”

Juliet’s entire body recoiled and Joel flexed his hand around the trigger of his gun. 

“What are you doing back here?” Danny asked cautiously, scratching his head. 

Joel looked down at Juliet, but she was just staring ahead at the man, looking as though she’d seen a ghost. And maybe she had; it didn’t look like there was much life clinging to the man. 

“What happened here? Where is everyone?” she asked quietly, in a voice barely above a whisper. 

Danny’s lips spread into a thin line as he slumped into one of the chairs, having grown breathless from his short walk across the room. With a trembling hand, he reached out in front of him, gesturing at the other chairs. “Take a seat,” he grunted. 

The man couldn’t have been older than his mid-forties, but he had aged rapidly in the last few months. It was hard to imagine this being the same man who helped him restrain Ethan in the back room. 

Juliet carefully lowered her gun and stepped forward towards Danny. Joel did the same, but his gun didn’t drop an inch. Once they were both seated, the weight of Juliet’s unanswered questions hung between them, unable to be ignored. 

Danny sighed and shot a look behind him before he leaned forward until his sharp elbows rested on the table. Joel shifted in his seat, positioning his gun under the table to face towards its potential target, should he need it. 

“Please,” Juliet breathed in a voice far gentler than he expected, “what happened?” 

Joel looked at Danny and watched as his eyes softened at the sight of Juliet’s pleading. The sight made him wonder what kind of friendship they had before she left town. Joel remembered the horror on his face when he saw Juliet on that metal table, with the evidence of her father’s hate etched on her body. The healed scars on Juliet’s body told him that her spilled blood was not an unusual sight in this town. How could a man stomach to watch a young girl go through that and still stand by the man who made her bleed? 

Joel’s finger hovered over the trigger.

Finally, Danny ran his hand through the greasy strands on his balding head and met Juliet’s eyes. 

“Things fell apart pretty quick after Elijah died,” he began. Joel didn’t miss the way his glassy gaze flickered to him. 

“Your father liked his secrets,” Danny said with a strange smile as he clasped his hands in front of him. “It was the mark of a great leader, I’d always thought. He made sure we didn’t know everything, to keep us from carrying the burden of the town.”

Joel’s eyes hit the ceiling as he puffed out a breath. 

Danny ignored his reaction and continued. “He told the town that they were the only survivors. It was a lie, of course, but a necessary one. It kept people from wanting beyond their means -”

“And it kept people dependent on him,” Juliet cut him off sharply, shifting in her chair to cross her arms over her chest. 

Danny laughed, and Joel was struck by an intense urge to squeeze a little tighter on the trigger. 

“Well, yes. I suppose it did. What I was trying to say was… your father held those secrets a little too close to his chest. Meant that when he died, we had no access to his suppliers anymore,” Danny grew quieter, his eyes locked on his hands. 

“Your father was a God to these people,” Danny paused, shaking his head, “when they found out he died….” 

He scratched his neck, turning to look back over his shoulder. 

Joel’s eyebrows lifted. 

“So where is everyone?” he demanded. 

Danny’s eyes thinned. “Did you not see the streets? They’re all dead,” he swallowed and dropped his hands back onto the table, “raiders got to us, we had no defences left. I’m the only one left.” 

Ain’t that convenient.

“What are you doing here, Juliet?” Danny asked, pointedly avoiding Joel’s stare.

She shifted in her seat. 

“That night, when I came back… my father told me something before he died. I have to know if it’s true,” Juliet answered as she straightened her spine. 

Danny’s eyebrows furrowed. “What did he say?” 

Juliet swallowed and Joel ached to touch her, but he was too tense. Being gentle wasn’t an option for him. 

“He told me that I wasn’t really his daughter, said that he killed my real parents,” Juliet revealed in an almost robotic voice, distancing herself from her emotions. 

Joel kept watch of Danny’s face, tracking his reaction like a hunter. 

It looked like he was doing a damn good job of not reacting at all, apart from the slight quiver of his lip as she continued to stare at Juliet. 

“Your father told you that?” he asked quietly. 

Juliet nodded. “Was he telling the truth?” 

Danny dropped eye contact with Juliet, leaned back in his chair, and for the third time since they had sat down, he looked over his shoulder towards the back door. 

That instinct that had guided Joel for the past twenty years, the instinct he should have listened to all those months ago when they first walked through this town, was roaring at him to bolt. Something wasn’t right here. 

Joel stood, bringing his shotgun with him. “Who else is in this town?” he demanded, flicking his eyes between Danny and the back door. 

Danny’s eyes widened and he held his hands in front of him. They were still trembling. 

“Joel,” Juliet hissed, moving to stand beside him, trying her best to get him to look at her. 

Danny broke out into a sick cough, pulling their attention to him. “No one,” he said between thick breaths. “Just me, I told you.” 

“Joel, what are you doing? He knows something!” Juliet protested, gripping his arm to lower his shotgun. 

“I know he does,” Joel agreed coldly, then turned his focus back to Danny. “Why’d you keep looking behind you?” he challenged.

Danny’s hands were still in front of him. “I haven’t! Just put the gun down and we can talk about this,” his eyes darted to Juliet, “I’ll tell you what I know.”

“Please, Joel,” Juliet whispered to him, seemingly blinded to all danger by her desperate need to know the truth. 

But he knew what was best. He knew how to protect her, even when she couldn’t do it herself. 

So, Joel stepped around the table and stalked through the room towards the back door. Juliet was on his heels. 

“I swear, there’s no one out there,” Danny called out behind them, struggling to match their pace. 

When Joel’s hand reached the door, he paused, listening. Beside him, Juliet did the same, slowing her breathing. Seconds later, she looked up at him and Joel watched as her eyes darted to the door with a nod. Juliet’s self preservation had returned. 

He nodded back and held up his hand, asking her to wait, to trust him. Juliet pulled her gun out and flipped the safety off, nodding back. 

Her faith in him nearly sent Joel to his knees. 

His hand met the cool metal handle and he turned, pushing the door open only an inch. Joel turned back as the winter sun streamed in, illuminating the red hidden in Juliet’s deep brown hair. 

Then he pushed the door open further, and stepped out into the small courtyard. His head turned quickly, scanning the area for any movements. His horse was -

Where was his horse? 

Hot blood rushed in Joel’s ears as his gaze dipped. 

No.

The carcass barely resembled the creature they had ridden here on. 

It lay on its side, with black eyes now devoid of life. The head was the only part of him still intact. Its torso had been split open, its ribs had been cracked and only red nothingness remained inside. 

Shock didn’t usually get to Joel, but the sight made him pause. 

Time slowed to a crawl. He should have called out to Juliet, yelled at her to slam the door closed, to lock herself inside. The words coated his tongue but he couldn’t get them out. 

Whoever did this was still here, waiting, lingering. They had probably been watching them the whole time. 

He didn’t know where to look. They could be anywhere.

Time started to speed up again and Joel’s head turned as his warning began to leave his lips. 

“Stay insi-”

His world tilted so suddenly, Joel wondered, for a split-second, if the world had been knocked off its axis. Then the pain exploded across the side of his head.

Joel’s vision blurred as he dropped to his knees on the biting concrete. His shotgun slammed to the ground beside him, echoing the sound across the walls of the courtyard. 

A piercing scream unleashed from a direction he couldn’t figure out, he thought the voice called his name but his head hit the ground and he couldn’t hear anymore.

He was always too fucking slow. 

___________________________

@amyispxnk @casa-boiardi @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf @mysaviorjoelmiller @chlojoceycom @joelmillersblog @socialistmary @orcasoul @ashhlsstuff @caitlynsixxx

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Starlight Eyes ~ B.SK

🌟Who; Boo Seungkwan x female reader (Y/N) 🌟What; Fluff. Seungkwan-centric. Some hurt at the beginning(I don't know if it's classed as angst or not). Briefly mentioned background memberxmember relationships. Reader is older(3 years). Staff!reader. Idol/canon verse. 🌟Wordcount; 14k 🌟Warnings; Alcohol consumption (nobody is shown drunk though). Period talk. Mention of doctors. Suggestive themes. Adult language/profanity. Seungcheol's injury is mentioned a few times. :(( I think that's it but please let me know if I've missed anything!

🌟Summary; The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

Ao3 link -Find my other writing here -

A/N; This was originally a self-indulgent story with an original character, not a reader insert so there may be some OC stuff I missed during editing so sorry if you see "her/hers/she" when it should be you/yours. Also, I know nothing about the members' personal lives so ignore any inaccuracies there, this is just fanfiction, it's not supposed to be realistic. <3

After all these years, all this time, now that everyone was finally accepting that it would never happen, it happened.

"We're dating," Jeonghan informed the group at large, his right hand holding Seungcheol's left, fingers laced and the older looking very shy as he smiled down at his own feet unable to meet the eyes of any of the 12 in front of them.

"Uh, should I leave?" You asked awkwardly, hands hovering over Minghao's head from where you had been playing with his hair.

"No, why would you suddenly leave?" Jeonghan asked confused, giving you a genuinely bewildered look.

"Because this sounds like family stuff not-"

"Don't," Seungcheol warned, lifting his head to land a firm look on you. "Don't try and say you're not one of us, Y/N because you are."

"Yeah, you're our girl," Jeonghan agreed. "We wanted to tell all of you together, you all should know about this at the same time."

"Okay," You agreed softly, not looking entirely convinced but you turned back down to focus back on playing with Minghao's hair in the way he only really let you do.

Seungkwan wasn't really aware of what was said after that because his attention was on you and the downturn of your lips. You weren't very close, the two of you, though you both still did value each other greatly; just like all of Seventeen did with you and you returned those fond feelings. You had been one of their staff for a while; mostly closest to 95 line as you were the same age as them, and had taken on the role of Seungcheol's personal physiotherapist despite the fact that you were actually a makeup artist. But all 13 young men adored you and you loved them all back just as much so your role was much more than just another staff member to them. Still, Seungkwan didn't really spend any time with you alone and that was okay for you both. But he still had always easily noticed your mannerisms and quirks, so he noticed the way you started to shrink into yourself as the others all congratulated the new couple, after making them both promise that it wasn't some kind of joke that Jeonghan had convinced Seungcheol to go along with. Seungkwan noticed you wilt and didn't understand how no one else did.

To celebrate the new couple, you all went to karaoke, even if you didn't drink and never actually sang but you always watched with a smile, just happy to be involved and thought of. Though this time, Seungkwan noticed you take the shot of soju that Seokmin had poured then promptly abandoned to run screaming excitedly over to the machine and join the song, already tipsy. At that point, Seungkwan stopped drinking.

Although Seungkwan did see you swallow down a fair few drinks over the night while no one was looking, you didn't really seem any different; smiles a little lazier and slightly cuddlier than normal as you tucked up against Wonwoo- who mostly stayed in his seat at your side- but still pretty much the same you as always. Seungkwan wondered if the older man noticed his companion drinking too or not.

Inevitably, as it happened every time you all hung out, you got up after a while to get some air and have a break from all the noise. Wonwoo smiled at you as you got up, his own smile a little drunken making you giggle and pat his cheek fondly before you left the room, putting a bowl of snacks in Soonyoung's hands as you passed him. You were always taking care of them like that; in little ways that added up to a lot. It wasn't a surprise that they all loved you an awful lot.

After a few minutes, Seungkwan got up and said he was going to the bathroom, not that anyone really noticed, then went out of the room, then out to the little courtyard designated for smokers but he knew you liked to sit on the bench right in the corner out of the way. "Hey," He greeted gently when he was close enough, causing you to lift your head up from where it was tilted back against the wall behind you with your eyes closed.

"Hi," You replied in the same tone while lifting your head more to watch him sit too.

"Everything okay?"

"Just needed a break, you know I need to escape it after a while."

"Mm, I know, but I meant more that you've been drinking."

"Ah, you noticed?" He hummed in confirmation. You sighed and tilted your head back again to stare up at the sky ahead; dark and too full of light pollution in the city to see the stars. "It's sad, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"That real beauty is hidden from us because we as a species rely on the artificial too much."

"Uh, that was deeper than I expected." He admitted, making you laugh. He smiled a little, glad that you weren't feeling bad enough to not laugh, and then he shuffled to copy your position and look up at the sky. "You'd like Jeju; there's this hill I go to when I visit my family, I never see as many stars as I do right there."

"Sounds peaceful."

"Mm, it is."

"I'd like to see that one day. If we're ever in Jeju together, do you think you could show me?" You tilted your head to look at him. He felt your gaze on him so he glanced over and then tilted his head too to meet your eyes in return.

Sometimes, Seungkwan really loved that you were the exact same height; being the same level made a lot of your professional interactions a lot easier when you had to adjust his makeup on set. But at times like this when there was already something hanging heavy in the air and Seungkwan's own chest had been twisted horribly for the past hours, he kind of hated it, that your open gaze was level with his. He could never escape it when you looked at him.

"Yeah, I'll take you wherever you want, noona." He replied honestly, tone a touch past just gentle now, turning more soft. "Even if we aren't scheduled to go to Jeju together, I'll take you one day when our schedules allow it."

"Really?" He nodded and you lit up. "I'd really like that, Kwanie."

"Mm, me too." He agreed, making your smile widen as his own turned up one side of his closed mouth. "That doesn't really answer what's wrong though. I'm pretty sure you're not really drinking because of not being able to see the stars." You sighed and turned your head back skywards though Seungkwan kept his full attention on you. He couldn't help but imagine what you would look like with the starlight reflected in your eyes instead of the orange of the fairy lights strung up in the courtyard. Still, artificial light or not, Seungkwan thought you looked beautiful. "Is it hyungs?" He asked carefully, not wanting to make things worse but wanting to get to the bottom of this to try and figure out how to make it better. "Coups and Jeonghan getting together? I…You like Coups-hyung, right?"

"I…no…a little." You admitted with a heavy breath. "I knew I never stood a chance anyway, he's been talking about asking Hannie out for weeks now so I really knew it was coming."

"You did?" Seungkwan was genuinely shocked. "Your response seemed like you didn't know."

"I didn't know when it was happening, or if Cheol-ah was actually going to have the balls to do it, they've been on the cusp of this since before I even met you all, after all."

"Mm, they have." He confirmed. "You really aren't hurt over it?"

"No," You laughed a little. "I'm happy for them, they're good together regardless of romantic status. I don't imagine much will change with them anyway, they've been very unsubtly sneaking off to make out and probably fuck for a while."

"What?" Seungkwan muttered dumbly. "They've been what?"

You looked at him and upon spotting his flat expression you straightened up with an amused expression. "You didn't know?" He shook his head. "Oh, here I was thinking you're one of the observant ones, you always notice when I need something."

"That's you though." He replied without thought then blushed and looked away, back up at the sky. "Uhm, like, it's easier to see when you need something compared to them because they've always been close and affectionate and disappear randomly so it's normal."

"Ah, I see." You hummed in understanding and tilted back again.

The pair of you were silent for a few minutes as Seungkwan focused on calming his racing heart and heated cheeks. He really thought that he had given himself away then. "So," He started, tone back to gentle. "If not because you're hurt, why are you sad, noona?"

"I just…" You sighed heavily. "It's fucking stupid."

"If it hurts, it's not stupid."

"I'm not usually bothered by this, I'm just…I don't know, sensitive, at the moment. Hormones, you know?"

"Mm," He hummed a little, understanding that you were referring to your incoming period. It wasn't something that you ever discussed with any of them exactly, though you did usually take time off every month routinely so the group had very early on been worried and asked you if something was wrong at home or something. And then you had very honestly said that it was because your period pains were worse on those days and you couldn't face people. Ever since, the guys had always had your favourite chocolate and snacks delivered to your apartment on those days to cheer you up a little; and you always hugged them all extra tight on the day you returned. So Seungkwan did know that you were due any day and even had a symbol on his personal calendar to remind him; he always intended to send you flowers but could never gather the courage to do it. He thought he was a lot like Seungcheol in that way. But at least everyone had known that Jeonghan returned Seungcheol's affection, nobody knew if you returned Seungkwan's feelings, or even that he had those feelings in the first place.

"Do you…do you ever just see people being all happy and in love and it just hits you that you don't have that?"

"Oh," He swallowed a little, surprised by your words because you had never seemed to care about romantic relationships for yourself even if you were all for others finding love. Honestly, some of Seventeen had even entertained the possibility that you were aromantic. So you saying this right now and admitting to being upset over being single was genuinely a shock to Seungkwan. "Yeah," He agreed in a soft exhale after a few seconds of absorbing your words. "Quite a lot, honestly." He chuckled a little, embarrassed and scratched his neck awkwardly. "I didn't expect it to be something you think about. That sounds mean, doesn't it? Or rude. Just not nice. I'm sorry-"

"It's fine," You giggled and reached over to take his hand into yours and hold it on the wood of the bench seat between you. "I don't; think about it really, I mean. Like I said, hormones prompted it today. I'm usually fine single, you obviously know that I'm generally not interested in romance. "

"Y-yeah, you've never dated in all the time I've known you." He was staring down at your hands between you. It wasn't the first time that you two had held hands but it was the first where you were having a conversation about romance in what could be considered a romantic setting, fairy lights and the night sky. Seungkwan was half convinced you could feel his racing pulse through your connected palms.

"I don't gain real attraction easily." You admitted softly. "In any way. I can see someone and think about them in a sexual manner but I wouldn't ever do something about it. I need a connection first, for either romantic or sexual relationships. But I don't like meeting people, it's too much hassle and anxiety so I'm not really giving myself the chance to develop any connection with anyone. I think that's mostly why I started to like Cheol because we were spending so much time together during his injury that we got closer and I'm not stupid, he's a wonderful, attractive man."

"Hyung's great." Seungkwan agreed quietly, mind whirling with all the new information.

"He is. You all are." You squeezed his hand gently, sending his heart tripping over itself a little which only grew when you adjusted your hold and your first two fingers slipped through the gaps of his last two. You had never locked fingers before. Seungkwan was halfway to a heart attack, he was certain. "I didn't expect anyone to notice something is, well not wrong; I'll get over this quickly, but not right I guess. Even Wonwoo didn't seem to notice and he's been next to me for the past two hours. It's always you, huh?" You turned your head to look at him again. Seungkwan took a breath before he bravely turned his head to look at you and meet your fond gaze. His breath caught in his throat and that heart attack was coming on very quickly now. "You always do so much for others, Seungkwan-ah, you work so hard to make others happy and feel loved. I hope that you feel it back tenfold. You really deserve it, you know?"

"Noona," He breathed out, feeling all his affection for you rising up to his throat. If he wasn't careful, it was going to come tumbling out so he pressed his lips together to hold it in.

"You'll let me know, won't you? If there's something I can do to make you happy, Kwannie." Those were dangerous words because all Seungkwan wanted was your lips on his, to know how you tasted behind the peach soju that you had been drinking intermittently all night. "Hm?" You prompted when he didn't say anything, his gaze just roaming over your face and trying to stick on your mouth as much as he was trying to not let it. "You'll let me know-"

"Kiss me," He blurted out breathlessly, eyes now glued to your lips and unable to look away.

"Wh-what?" You stammered, lifting your head to look at him utterly gobsmacked. But Seungkwan didn't really notice what your expression was doing as he straightened up in time with you, drawn like a magnet to you in a way that he usually had such good control over but his heart wasn't letting up and he didn't even realise that he was leaning in. Seungkwan's lips barely brushed yours before your hand was free from his and you were pushing him back, touch still gentle even as you cleared yourself space to get to your feet. "What the fuck?" You whispered, staring down at him with wide eyes of pure shock.

And that was what had Seungkwan's own eyes widening as he registered what had just happened, what he had just done. He had asked you to kiss him and then made the move himself when you had been too shocked to react otherwise. He had been so drawn to your soft-looking lips that he hadn't even paid attention to you properly. But now that there was distance between you and your fingers were no longer linked with his, Seungkwan knew.

"I'm so sorry," He rushed out, whole body flashing between hot and cold as panic and guilt squeezed his heart. "I-"

"We should get back." You spoke, voice odd, almost cold but not quite. It made Seungkwan's heart turn to ice in his chest. You were looking at him as if you didn't even know him and it hurt so much. You didn't wait for him to respond before you turned and went back into the building.

Seungkwan couldn't will his body to move, stock still with pain and fear. He had never wanted to confess to you in any way because he was certain that you didn't return the feelings and liked Seungcheol as of the past months; since you had headed back to Seoul with Seungcheol from Japan after tour while the rest of them went to Italy to film Nana Tour. Seungkwan had immediately noticed that something had changed when he saw you two face to face upon returning to Seoul but he hadn't been brave enough to confront you about it and just cradled his bruised heart closer to his chest. But now, what Seungkwan didn't want to happen, happened; you had rejected him. You pushed him away and broke his heart with a still so gentle touch that he honestly wished that you had been brutal, it would've somehow hurt less than this. Seungkwan was left there, heart in pieces not just for the rejection but knowing he had really messed up and now, he really wasn't sure if you would want to call him a friend any more.

How long Seungkwan sat there was an absolute mystery, he didn't move a single muscle, just sat there, staring brokenly wide-eyed at the door, tears silently slipping down his cheeks and hands gripping the edge of the bench either side of his thighs.

And then.

"Boo?" It was Hansol, stepping out into the courtyard in search of his best friend. But upon seeing Seungkwan's distraught expression through the glass of the door, Hansol's heart had seized with worry. "What happened?" He asked, rushing over to kneel on the slab in front of Seungkwan, one hand on Seungkwan's pressed-together knees and his other tenderly wiping the tears away, though more fell as Seungkwan came back to reality and he realised he was crying.

"I-I really fu-fucked up, Nonie," Seungkwan choked out before breaking down into sobs that made Hansol's heart break into pieces and join his best friend's on the floor around them.

It wasn't until they were tucked up in Seungkwan's bed together, Seungkwan's eyes swollen from his tears though no longer falling that Seungkwan actually told Hansol what happened. He hadn't really been in any state to talk at the karaoke bar and Hansol hadn't wanted to risk someone walking in on his fellow idol bawling his eyes out. So Hansol had tried to take Seungkwan back to the room yet he refused, making Hansol call Junhui out as one of the designated drivers for the night. Junhui did have every intention of complaining about being forced to drive them home and then come back, but upon seeing the state of the young man on the bench, Junhui drove them home before going back to the karaoke bar without a single complaint.

The pair were still alone even though they had taken the time to shower and attempt some kind of skincare routine for Seungkwan around his sniffles but he didn't have the heart to care and Hansol only had so much knowledge. Still, they both had clean, soft skin when they climbed into bed together to cuddle up in the way Hansol knew always soothed Seungkwan.

"Are you ready to talk about it now, Boo?"

Seungkwan curled up smaller against Hansol's chest, the younger on his back, his left arm around Seungkwan's back but folded up to run through the older's hair, his right hand over Seungkwan's left on Hansol's chest. "I fucked up."

"Mm, you said. With what? Y/N-noona?" Seungkwan flinched a little, confirming Hansol's words. "She left before I came out to you, she told me to check on you. Did you have a fight?" He sounded as if he didn't even believe it was possible; Seungkwan and you fighting, which was pretty true really as you two had never butted heads in any way.

"Not exactly." Seungkwan's voice was barely audible, half muffled against Hansol's chest and just very quiet anyway because he didn't really want to speak these words but figured he should. It was about time he told his best friend the truth. "I…I kissed her." Hansol tensed a little, genuinely surprised at his friend's words. "Well, tried to. She pushed me away."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know you like her that much. I've noticed you treat her differently to other women but I figured it was just because she's different to us all anyway, staff but a precious friend too. I thought it was mostly that and maybe a little crush but for you to try to kiss her? You really like her, huh, Boo?"

"Yeah," He choked out and turned his face further into Hansol's chest while gripping at his t-shirt. "I like her so fucking much th-that my heart is broken right now. S-she pushed me away and looked at me like-like she doesn't know me. I'm so fucking scared I've ruined everything, Vernon. Wh-what if she ne-never talk-"

"Alright, take a breath." Hansol soothed, knowing Seungkwan was on the verge of breaking down again and honestly, Hansol was not strong enough to handle that again. Seungkwn held on tighter as he obediently focused on taking some deep, slow though relatively unsteady breaths until he could breathe evenly again. He slumped back against his best friend and turned his head back around. "You haven't ruined anything, Seungkwan-ah." He promised. "Y/N-noona is not the type of person to ditch someone precious to her because of a love confession."

"I-I didn't confess." Seungkwan admittedly quietly.

"What?" Hansol mumbled puzzled. "You just randomly kissed her?"

"No. I asked her to kiss me first but I guess I just, got caught on the thought and leaned in without really realising."

"Uhm, okay and why did you ask her to kiss you?"

"Because I'm a fucking idiot." He huffed. "She was just…" He exhaled heavily. "It felt a lot, sitting there with her like that and she was talking and saying things and I just always get so caught up listening to her and stuck in how much I like her and she was holding my hand and you know I'm so weak for hand holding and she-" He took a much-needed breath when Hansol tapped his back a little, a silent reminder to breathe. "She basically told me to tell her what she can do to make me happy because she said I do so much for others and deserve to feel as loved and cared for as I make others feel and I just…"

"Asked her to kiss you?" Seungkwan nodded, cheeks warm enough that Hansol could feel the increased temperature easily through his sleep t-shirt. Not that he'd point that out. "And then you kissed her and she shoved you back?"

"No, not shoved just, pushed really gently. I think I'd prefer she had shoved me. Somehow, the soft touch hurts so much more."

"It's because she cares about you, Boo, too much to be so harsh with you. That's good, it means she won't want to lose you over this either." Hansol soothed, hand back in Seungkwan's hair and right thumb brushing over the back of Seungkwan's left hand. "It'll be okay. It might be a little weird at work tomorrow but it won't last."

As it turns out, Hansol was wrong, not because it was weird at work the next day but because you didn't turn up at all.

It was five days before Seungkwan saw you again; you had called off like you did every month though usually it was only a few days, not five. But you had answered the group chat like normal and just said it was just a little extra pain this month and you were fine and did not need Mingyu to come over and feed you handmade soup as it was just a period and you were not ill. The others had been persuaded and simply sent you more treats and funny videos while you were gone. But Seungkwan was convinced that you were avoiding him and well, Hansol's frown told Seungkwan that his best friend had the same thought.

When Seungkwan did see you, however, he really hadn't expected to. He was at a solo photo shoot for one of the brands he was an ambassador for and saw you waiting in his dressing room when he entered. You were dressed ready for work; supply belt strapped around your hips and a makeup brush in your fingers as you twirled it absentmindedly where you were leaning back against the counter in wait, eyes on the empty chair in front of you.

"Noona," He mumbled as he stepped through the open doorway. The brush flew out of your fingers at his sudden voice, making you both yelp a little as it pinged across the room. You both stared in the general vicinity of where it had fallen on the floor somewhere out of sight, then you huffed an amused laugh and pushed off of the counter.

"Come on, they told me to deal with you myself seeing as it's a simple outfit and look today." You mused, motioning him in as you walked over to the clothing rack where only one outfit was set up in wait; jeans, a t-shirt and a soft cardigan. "Kwan-ah?" You prompted when he remained in place. You looked over at him. "Are you going to come in and shut the door or are you changing at the threshold in view of everyone?"

"Right," He mumbled and stepped into the room, closing the door behind him then slowly approached, twisting his fingers together nervously as he neared. "J-just us?"

"Mm, we've worked with this team enough that they trust me to pretty you up alone, not that you need prettying up." You smiled at him, teasing as you tended to when talking to the guys about how attractive they were. But your smile faltered a little when you took his features in properly. He looked paler than usual with dark marks under his eyes and lips a little dry. "Kwan-ah," You breathed out, putting the hangers back on the rack to free your hands so that you could turn and delicately take his face into your hands. Seungkwan immediately felt his eyes sting a little with the threat of tears. He had been so scared that you would never touch him again that feeling your skin so tenderly against his own felt like an awful lot. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you." You spoke softly, thumbs gently brushing over his cheeks. Your lips turned down further as you watched a tear drip down his cheek. "I never want to hurt you. You truly are someone I value greatly, you know that, right?"

"I-I was scared you wouldn't anymore."

"Silly boy," You teased, the left side of your mouth quirking up a little. "Knowing the wonderful man you are, how kind and caring you are, I really don't think there is anything you could ever do that would make me stop caring about you and want you in my life."

"You were gone for five days, noona."

"Yeah, I know." You frowned and started to lower your hands but he quickly put his own over your wrists and held you to him; you didn't try to pull away again and let him lead your touch back to his cheeks obligingly. He wasn't usually one to ask you for affection so you really weren't going to turn him away now that he finally had. "I just…I was being a coward. I was scared too, about how this would go, seeing you again after that. I felt so bad for leaving like that but I just…ran away. I'm not very emotionally competent, Kwan-ah," You admitted with a little pout that made his lips quirk up a little. "I've never been in that situation so I didn't know what to do. I should've just faced you the next day and not made you suffer these past days but I used my upcoming period as an excuse. If it helps though, I was genuinely in more pain this month so we both suffered."

"That doesn't make me feel better." He answered with a concerned frown. "I never want you to suffer, even if I am, I never want that for you." He brushed his thumbs over your wrists delicately. "Is everything okay? Why was it more painful?"

"I don't know, just one of those things I guess." You shrugged carelessly making his frown worsen.

"Noona, you can't be so careless about your health. What if it's a sign that something's wrong?"

"I can't go to the doctor because I had a more painful period than usual, Kwan-ah," You sighed, gently pulling your hands away to reach back and grab the hangers. He let out a displeased breath but obediently followed the silent instructions and removed his shoes to kick aside carelessly while unzipping his coat to remove. "They barely take periods seriously anyway, a one-off will be dismissed and a waste of my time going for."

"If it's worse again next month, you will go then?" He tossed his coat aside blindly in the direction of the couch. It fell short and landed on the floor but he didn't care.

"They'll dismiss it." You informed simply, watching as he removed his hoodie to also toss aside.

"Please, for me?" He requested, stopping with one arm out of his t-shirt to put his hand to yours over the hangers pleadingly.

"Fine," You conceded with a heavy sigh. "But if they just dismiss it, I get to say I told you so."

"Mm, okay. I'll even buy your favourite ice cream." He chuckled, taking the clothes from you to take to the couch and get changed there.

Even though Seungkwan was not particularly confident in his body he had changed in front of you so many times over the past two years- it was all part of being an idol with staff members around all the time during outfit changes- that he didn't even stop to think about the fact it was the first time that you two were alone while he changed, in a shut room. At least until you approached to start folding his own discarded clothes neatly so they didn't crease. And then Seungkwan looked at you, his own trousers around his ankles from just pushing them down and freezing. You could definitely see his dark boxer briefs as the plain white t-shirt stopped just below the waistband of his underwear. Suddenly, he was very self-conscious and aware of the fact you were alone and he had felt your lips brush his.

"Are you being Seungcheol?" You teased noticing him just stop and stand there. You didn't even look up at him and instead lowered down to your knees in front of him making his chest tighten and his fingers grip the edge of his borrowed t-shirt while he swallowed thickly. You didn't even notice, your hands were already on him; one on the back of his left calf and the other on the hem of his trouser leg. "Up." You encouraged. Numbly, Seungkwan lifted his left leg to allow you to pull his trousers off over his sock and then put his foot down before you swapped to his right leg to repeat the process efficiently. You leaned back and laid his trousers on the couch before grabbing the jeans off of the hanger.

It wasn't the first time that you had physically dressed a Seventeen member; Seungcheol especially since he hurt his knee, had required help with his trousers, socks and shoes and although he was healed now and capable, he still pouted at you until you helped him. Jeonghan could be pretty lazy too, especially near the end of concerts so you had more than once literally stripped him down to his boxers and redressed him when he was being too difficult for other staff who did not have a close enough relationship with the guys to do as much. The first few times had made Jeonghan blush and flustered for a while after, but these days he let it happen without any fuss. Mingyu was another who wanted to be doted on like Seungcheol, though he either went into playful flirt mode which always resulted in you either pinching or biting him depending on if your hands were busy, or he got shy and made it difficult for you as he tried to hide away despite whining for your help in the first place. The others always wondered how you could put up with Mingyu like that but you just shrugged and said it didn't bother you really as your job was to get them ready for the fans or cameras. Nobody ever pointed out that your job was only to do their makeup but you always went above and beyond what you were actually paid for. They liked you doting too much to want you to ever stop. Though they often tried to convince their higher-ups to increase your pay, something you genuinely were clueless about. The only time you had ever refused to help any of them dress was the one time Wonwoo had very uncharacteristically boldly called you over after a Hip Hop Unit stage, dressed in red leather and shining with sweat. You had taken one look at him and dismissively turned to touch up Jihoon's makeup again even though you had just finished. Nobody really knew what happened for you to refuse, though they were pretty sure it was some kind of disagreement between you two as you had both been kind of tense before that despite usually getting along really well. Seungkwan had actually suspected you two to be dating around that time and it was a lovers quarrel, but then he walked in on Wonwoo and Mingyu making out a few days later and realised he was very wrong.

"Are we tucking today?" You asked when the jeans were up over Seungkwan's ass and on his hips though still open. "Mm, it doesn't look long enough to tuck." You commented in answer to your own question, head tilted a little as you looked at the t-shirt still grasped in Seungkwan's grasp.

The door suddenly opened making Seungkwan inhale in slightly panicked surprise. Though to his relief, it was Hansol who entered, a carrier with three drinks in it balanced on his palm. "Uh," The younger male spoke, eyes wide on the position of the pair of you.

"Didn't know anyone was coming to watch Kwanie today." You commented after smiling in greeting at the young man while he awkwardly entered the room and shut the door behind him. You turned back to Seungkwan and reached out to do his jeans up for him, with hands now skilled at dressing and undressing others.

"Uhm, I heard you'd be here today so I thought I'd come like, check in," Hansol admitted, putting the drinks on the counter. Seungkwan gave his best friend a grateful looking knowing he actually meant that he was there to be moral support for Seungkwan.

"Ah," You made a noise of understanding and pointed to the shoes by the rack. "Grab those, would you?" Hansol nodded and quickly grabbed the shoes to take over and hand over. He stood a few feet behind you and silently watched as you helped Seungkwan into the shoes and made them all neat before you got to your feet.

It was very clear to the youngest that Seungkwan was feeling some things from having his crush, you, on your knees in front of him and clearly you had been there for a little while dressing Seungkwan, judging by how wide his eyes were and red his cheeks. Hansol wished he could help his friend out in some way but there wasn't anything he could realistically do.

You made short work of getting Seungkwan into the cardigan before leading him over to the makeup chair to get started. All while Seungkwan just let you. He kept his lips together and eyes big on you to watch you move around and take charge of getting him ready for the photo shoot so naturally that he wondered why you ever said that you didn't like being in charge of people. You always handled the guys so well and often delegated tasks amongst the staff yet when you had been offered a higher-paid position as head makeup artist, you had refused on the grounds that it was too much responsibility and pressure being in charge. Seungkwan wondered if you actually realised how much the rest of the staff and even the 13 idols listened to you, especially during changes backstage at concerts. You didn't get paid to take charge but you were the only one willing to get physical with the guys to get them where they needed to be or step in to calm them down when their tensions ran high.

"You haven't been doing your routine." You commented when you were leaning in closer to Seungkwan to carefully work on adding the tinted balm to his lips, the last step of the standard natural look routine you did to them all for these calmer shoots.

"Sorry," Seungkwan whispered back, fingers twisted in the hem of his t-shirt again; it was very creased at this point but neither of you had even noticed.

"Shall we do an intensive session later? We haven't done one of those in a while."

"Really?" His heart thrummed excitedly at the thought of spending an hour alone with you taking care of his skin. He always felt so relaxed and content after those sessions but it had truly been a while since your last, months.

"Mm." You hummed in confirmation, then leaned back and stepped away to give him the freedom to get up. You looked at your right hand where leftover balm was on the tip of your middle finger from dabbing it to his lips, then at your empty left hand. You usually had a tissue in hand but you hadn't picked one up today. Seungkwan looked at the counter with every intention of grabbing a tissue for you but your usual box wasn't there, nor your wipes. Without warning, you turned and approached Hansol and held his jaw in your clean hand to apply the balm to his lips. He had been kind of alarmed at the sudden grab, even if it was rather gentle in your true fashion, but quickly understood and just stood still and let you. He even smacked his lips together when you pulled your right hand back, making you giggle. Hansol smiled at you and Seungkwan watched, looking between you two and, not for the first time, he noticed how good you looked together. Then again, he thought you looked good next to any of his members. He wondered if anyone ever thought that he looked good with you. Probably not.

"What's going on with Boo's hair?" Hansol asked curiously, causing you to turn back around to Seungkwan.

"I don't need to do anything, Kwanie already looks handsome enough," You informed, though approached to run your left fingers through his hair a little just to fix the strands that getting changed had messed up.

"Seungkwanie is really handsome already, huh, noona?" Hansol grinned to himself as he watched Seungkwan fluster a little at your genuine praise.

"Mm, people will be more interested in Seungkwanie than the product," You continued, knowing Hansol was baiting you to tease his friend and willing to play along.

"Stop," Seungkwan whined a little. "You're being ridiculous."

"Excuse you, I am being honest." You scolded and gently tilted his head upwards to meet your eyes. "You're beautiful, Boo Seungkwan." Even with the concealers and foundation on his skin, Seungkwan's resulting blush could be spotted.

Hansol watched Seungkwan's expression melt under your honest gaze, nothing but pure unfiltered adoration in his eyes. Hansol wondered if Seungkwan had always looked at you in that way when he thought that no one was looking and able to call him out on it, or if it was now something he was unable to hide since his truth came out. He wondered if you saw Seungkwan's gaze and knew what it meant, how the kiss wasn't his full truth.

Since that day at his solo shoot, when Seungkwan had more personal time with you than he ever had and really understood that you truly saw no change in your relationship despite the kiss attempt, he had slowly invited you to spend time together more and more. He had always wanted to spend more time with you but he had been too scared of his feelings coming out and ruining things, but that had already happened and you were perhaps closer than you had ever been.

Over the past few months, you went from seeing each other pretty much just at work or when you were hanging out with other members and Seungkwan happened to be there too, to texting every day often with video calls at night as you both unwound and did your nightly skincare routines together, and spending time together alone outside of work with none of the other members.

At first, Seungkwan had been worried that you wouldn't want to spend so much time with him but you had always happily agreed to spend time together and had even started to suggest hanging out yourself; at first with something specific in mind like visiting something that you felt you'd both enjoy or to get a meal, but then you would just ask to hang out with no plan in mind. The first time you had admitted that you had no plans and just wanted to spend time with him, Seungkwan had honest-to-god almost burst his heart through his chest like something out of an old cartoon. It still made his heart flutter madly when you would skip over to him and cutely hold onto his arm to request quality time with handsome Seungkwanie, but he had a much better control over his heart these days. Well, for the most part.

"What are we doing here?" Seungkwan muttered alarmed, heart racing with nerves in his chest as he woodenly followed you into the bridal boutique; the same one he had visited a few weeks ago with his sister to pick up her wedding dress and his suit.

"Unnie said she's put aside a few options for me." You replied simply.

"Options? For what?" He worried, following you over to the reception desk. "Noona?" He hissed desperately but you were already talking to the staff; the same woman who had served him last time. He was wearing a mask and cap this time but he was pretty sure the woman recognised him based on the smile she shot his way. He bowed a little in polite greeting. Seungkwan felt so out of his depth even as he was led over to the dressing rooms and told to sit on the couch, just like his first visit here to help his sister pick out her dress with her best friend and their mother.

And then he was alone as you went into the room and the staff wandered off, though returned minutes later with a few dresses all in the soft lilac Naeryin had picked for her bridal party, him included. Seungkwan's throat dried with nerves. Were you invited to the wedding? He knew that you and Naeryin had developed a friendship of sorts since you met a little over a year ago at one of Seventeen's concerts and would meet when Naeryin was in Seoul on those rare times, but neither of you had ever said a word about you attending the wedding. He genuinely did not know if he could handle seeing you surrounded by his family like that, like you were one of them.

Seungkwan had been so caught up in his worries that he hadn't even noticed the door open until the staff stood from where she was perched on the stool and clapped happily. Seungkwan looked up and saw you standing shyly in a silky lilac off-the-shoulder dress that gathered in at your waist highlighting your curvy figure and stopped just above your knees. Seungkwan could see the hint of a tattoo on your right thigh; he didn't even know that you had tattoos and the thought made him kind of lightheaded. Well, more than he already was.

"What do you think?" You asked nervously, fingers fiddling with the straps of your bra on show thanks to the sleeves. "I'd wear a different bra, of course so imagine without the straps." You encouraged, big eyes locked on Seungkwan who was just staring dumbly at you and wishing he hadn't removed his mask and hat because now his awestruck expression was embarrassingly in full view.

"You look so beautiful!" The staff enthused when Seungkwan remained silent. You smiled gratefully and turned your attention to the staff who approached to coo over how well the dress suited you and literally looked tailored to your body despite being off the rack. "You two are going to look so beautiful together, have you seen your boyfriend's suit? He looks so handsome in it!"

"Uhm, he's not my boyfriend." You corrected softly, cheeks a little pink and gaze suddenly focused down on the skirt as you fiddled with it. "Friends."

"Oh, I apologise, I just thought because his sister personally set aside options for you to attend her wedding and asked for silk like her brother's shirt…I assumed. I'm sorry."

"It's fine." You assured, placing a gentle hand on the staff's arm comfortingly. "I'll go change back. I'm more than happy with this dress so I won't try the others." Then you were back in the dressing room, the door clicking to a lock behind you and Seungkwan still hadn't moved a muscle.

It took until you were at your usual coffee shop, at your usual table at the back half hidden behind a divider and plants, that Seungkwan managed to actually say a word.

"You're coming to the wedding?" He asked, fingers playing with the edge of his mug as he stared down at it.

"Mm, the makeup artist that unnie picked turned out to be really uncomfortable to be around when the girls went to trial their looks for the day, and so unnie asked me if I could help them out as they had decided to just do each other's makeup instead of stressing to find a wedding makeup artist in time. Of course, I said yes and then unnie said I should now accept the invite seeing as I'll be there anyway," You shrugged and then sipped at your drink.

"Noona invited you already?" You nodded in confirmation. "And you said no?"

"I wouldn't really know anyone and would feel really out of place and anxious the whole time."

"You'd know me."

"Mm, but you're her man of honour, Kwan-ah, you have duties to attend to so I didn't want to add more on top. I know you'd feel responsible for looking after me and making sure I'm comfortable." He opened his mouth as if to argue but then closed it again making you giggle. You both knew that he would be doing exactly that. "But I have a real purpose for being there now, and I met the girls through video chat and they're lovely so I think I'll be okay and you won't need to worry about me."

"I'll always worry about you." He replied automatically in a gentle tone. You peered up at him and then aside, eyes unintentionally landing on your dress laid over the back of the seat on your right side in a protective black dress bag to keep it clean. Seungkwan followed your gaze automatically and recalled how you had looked in the dress and how he had lost all ability to talk. He felt guilty for not telling you how beautiful you looked. Bravely, he took the chance to now. "I should've said this earlier when you asked but I think you look so beautiful in that dress, noona." You slid your eyes back to him, a little rounder now at the compliment. "I was just…lost for words. I've never seen you like that before."

"Yeah, I was worried it would be weird, wearing a dress in front of you." You admitted, directing your focus to your mug between your hands. "I was supposed to go pick a dress a few days ago but I uh, wanted you to be there."

"Me?"

You nodded. "So the first time you see me in a dress isn't the day of the wedding."

Seungkwan knew that you didn't mean it that way, that you weren't talking about your wedding but he was now thinking about it; what kind of dress you would choose to wear when you promised to be by his side forever and love him until the world stops spinning. Seungkwan had never thought of that before; marrying someone specific, being in love with you and spending your lives together, but now that he had, he realised how much he quite liked the thought. The past months together were supposed to be his way of forming a connection with you that would allow you to see him in a romantic manner like you had started to with Seungcheol last year. But it seemed it had just made Seungkwan's feelings burn brighter and his crush turn into something more.

"Kind of desensitise you, I guess?" You continued, unaware of the fact that Seungkwan had just realised and accepted that he was falling in love with you. "Though I guess once isn't enough to desensitise," You mused, lifting your mug to sip at.

"I guess you're going to have to wear dresses around me a lot in the next few weeks." He replied, surprised at how smoothly he had gotten the words out when the thought of seeing you in dresses so much was genuinely giving his lungs some issue drawing in oxygen.

"Kind of impractical to wear at work." You replied, eyes curving with your smile over the edge of your mug.

"Mm, I guess so." He agreed and took a drink before lowering his mug and licking his lips. "Then the only thing to do is spend more time together outside of work."

"That would mean going home and changing instead of going straight to wherever we want to go. We barely make it before closing to a lot of things as it is, Kwan-ah."

"I don't mind." He shrugged, playing it off and looking back down to where his left index finger was tracing over the edge of his mug. "I don't mind what we do, so long as we're together."

"Oh," You licked your lips and looked down yourself, cheeks a little pink and not noticing that his were the exact same. "Me either. I don't mind either. I just like spending time with you."

Seungkwan looked up and noticed how shy you looked with your blush and downturned eyes. Maybe, just maybe his plan had worked and you were starting to like him too. Bravely, he uncrossed his ankles to stretch his leg out just enough to tap his foot to yours lightly. You peered up at him through your lashes for a few seconds before you moved your own foot to be beside his own. Seungkwan's heart thumped and he had to quickly lift his mug to hide the fond dopey smile that lifted his lips.

The weeks until the wedding passed in a blur of flushed cheeks and shy giggles between you two. You made sure to fit in time together at every chance that you both could, and where possible you always wore a dress. The dresses were all casual and comfortable, ranging from simple pinafores to cute summer dresses; all of which stopped around your knees and never showed any more skin than your arms and the slight glimpse at the top of your chest, but every single one made Seungkwan's heart thrum because it was for him. Not quite in the way he wanted but he still hoped and started to believe as the days passed that you were no longer just desensitising him but dressing to look nice for him. He had noticed that sometimes you wore a little more makeup than usual or did something with your hair; he always complimented you on it and felt pride swell in his chest at the way you'd turn shy and blush without fail before taking his hand to lead him off somewhere different every time. At some point in those weeks, it stopped feeling like two friends hanging out and more, dare he say it, like dates. Something Seungkwan regularly screeched to Hansol about when they were safe from others overhearing. He couldn't help but wonder if you had felt the same too.

Then the day arrived that you two travelled to Jeju together ready for the wedding the next day. Of course, Seungkwan had been basically booked in to stay at his parent's house for the weekend but had said to you when you were trying to figure out your own accommodation that he'd get a room at the hotel too so that you could go together. You had refused saying he should stay with his family otherwise they'd be very disappointed and he would regret not taking the chance while he could. He had understood your point, so had just helped you book a hotel for the trip with something hidden in his chest saying that he wouldn't regret it as much as you thought.

There had actually been a bit of a fuss leaving Seoul as somehow people had found out that Seungkwan would be at the airport, but at least you had known ahead of leaving for the airport so Hybe had put together a team to escort you two through the airport safely with a few of the security getting on the flight too in case it was crazy at the other end. But Jeju airport had been pretty much quiet so the staff had gotten back on the next flight back to Seoul after making sure you two were safely in the car Seungkwan had rented for the trip.

Although Seungkwan could drive, he wasn't all that confident about it and it was even worse with you in the car as he didn't want to look incompetent, especially in his home town. You were always the one driving you two around in Seoul and honestly, Seungkwan preferred it that way because there was something really attractive about the way you drove; as if you had no concerns at all and had been driving your whole life. And you always let him put whatever music he wanted on; Seungkwan was pretty sure that lately you had even started to sing along under your breath and he's anticipating the day he actually hears you sing for the first time. So Seungkwan liked it much better when you drove but he had wanted to drive this time so that you could take in everything you passed without having your mind mostly on safety.

Initially, you two had planned for Seungkwan to drive you straight to the hotel to let you settle in and he'd go to his parent's house, but he had looked at you and saw how bright your eyes were as you took in the beautiful sights that he didn't want to part already. So he drove around showing you various things, pointing out places and telling you his associated memories; things he hadn't even really had the chance or urge to tell his members but he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know everything about him and to know everything about you in return.

"Do you think I could go to your home town with you one day?" He requested when he finally pulled up into the drop-off zone outside the hotel, hours after landing and with a few calls from his family wondering where he was. They hadn't said much after he had said that he was showing you around, but he knew that he was going to be bundled with questions from his mother in particular about when he was going to ask you out. Not because Seungkwan had ever told anyone but Hansol about his feelings for you, but because his family just knew him too well, especially his sisters.

"My home town?" You questioned looking at him with one hand on the door handle ready to get out. He nodded. "No."

His face fell a little. "Oh, okay, sorry, I just thought-"

"Not because of you, Kwan-ah," You assured, reaching over to pick his hand up from where it was still resting on the handbrake. "But because I don't want to go back there myself, let alone show someone who means so much to me that part of my life."

"You don't?" He frowned concernedly. "I didn't know you felt that way."

"Mm, there's a reason I've been in Seoul as long as I have." You squeezed his hand a little then smiled and removed your seat belt.

"Will you tell me about it? One day?"

"Maybe." You agreed and got out. He quickly followed to help you take your case and large makeup case out of the boot. "Go before your parents call again." You teased, trying to wave him off.

"I will." He agreed though stood there, one hand on the car and the other in the pocket of his shorts. "Go in." He encouraged with a closed-lipped smile on his face as he tilted his chin towards the hotel. You didn't react immediately, just looked at him and he was very certain that your gaze travelled him up and down before you did turn and scuttled off into the hotel. "Did she just check me out?" He muttered in stunned disbelief, finally moving to get back into the car. Once inside he just sat there dumbly, one hand pressed to his juddering heart. "I think she checked me out." He laughed in happy disbelief though jumped when there was a horn behind him. He quickly strapped himself in and disengaged the handbrake to drive off and let the taxi behind pull up.

Seungkwan had already seen you for breakfast which all of the wedding party were invited to at the resort where the wedding was to take place. You had tried to say that you weren't part of the party, just a guest doing makeup but Naeryin had not accepted that at all. Especially as Seungkwan would then be at the resort for the rest of the day making sure that everything was ready and you needed to get there early yourself to start on the bridal makeup and get ready too. So Naeryin had pointed out that it just made sense for you to join them all for breakfast so that her poor little brother didn't have to drive so much and add extra stress on his shoulders; a manipulation that you were very aware was happening but too caring of Seungkwan to avoid.

You two had sat side by side at breakfast and Seungkwan had done his utmost to not be obvious with his feelings in front of his family but clearly, he had failed as his sisters especially kept giving him knowing grins every time he met their eyes. He just stopped looking at them in the end.

But then you had to part ways; Seungkwan to do his duties putting his eye for detail to the test in the actual venue and you to go with the bride and her bridesmaids to help her get ready. Watching you walk off laughing with his sisters had made Seungkwan feel kind of giddy. His family loved you and that made him happier than he could put into words.

Seungkwan had just finished spending a good twenty minutes trying to get one particular strand of hair in the right place, wanting to look perfect for his sister's wedding (and also to impress you) when there was a knock on the door of the room designated to him to get ready for the wedding. He had already been in there for over an hour to shower and get into his grey suit with a lilac silk shirt underneath. You had that morning obligingly given him makeup products for him to apply himself, he really wanted to look perfect for Naeryin's wedding. And he had done a pretty good job if he said so himself, not as good as you would've but good enough.

"Kwan-ah?" Your voice passed through the door making him freeze. He was suddenly hit with the very real thought that he was not ready to face you. "Can I come in? I'm done with the girls so I can help you now, if you want it."

"U-uhm, yeah-yeah, you can come in." He called then swallowed thickly when the door started to open.

Seungkwan's hands fell to his sides and he automatically turned around to face you as you walked into the room. He had already seen you in the dress and that was hard enough to deal with but now that you had your hair done, makeup on and feet strapped into a pair of pretty lilac heels, he really did forget to breathe for a few long seconds.

"Oh," You exhaled when you took in Seungkwan as you approached, your beautifully made-up eyes widening a little even as you came to a stop just out of arms reach. With the heels on, you were a few inches taller than him and usually, Seungkwan would hate that but with you, he didn't even care.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Seungkwan breathed out, chest heaving as he quickly rushed to refill his suddenly burning lungs. You looked away shyly as a blush bloomed on your skin. With your shoulders and the top of your chest exposed like that, Seungkwan could see for the first time that your chest coloured prettily when you blushed. It was probably not a very good piece of information to have right then if he wished to remain sane enough for the wedding. But, too late.

"You should see Naeryin-unnie, she looks like a princess." You replied and looked back up at him. You stepped forward without thought and easily fixed that annoying strand of hair without any hassle.

"I don't doubt it, my sisters are all beautiful. But I can never put you in the same place as any of them, they're my family and you…" He breathed out, fingers ghosting over your arms where they were both still raised, gently brushing your fingers over his face to smooth out any imperfections in his makeup.

Your hands stilled and you redirected your gaze from his cheek to meet his eyes. "I'm what, Kwan-ah?" You asked quietly, almost a whisper between them.

"You know," His expression tightened and turned a little desperate as his fingers curled around your forearms. "You've got to know by now, Y/N."

"I…I have my suspicions." You admitted and licked your berry-stained lips. "When you kissed me, it-it wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing, was it?"

Seungkwan swallowed thickly.

Part of him didn't want this conversation to happen, not today of all days when he wasn't certain where it was headed and he already had so much on his shoulders to make sure that his sister had the wedding of her dreams. But the other part of him wouldn't be able to think of anything else if you didn't talk about it now, if you walked away and left it for another time or never again. His heart was so full in his chest, so full of all the little quirks and habits of you that he couldn't not know for certain anymore. He needed to know if the hope in his chest should get shoved back in the bottom of the box for a future Seungkwan, or if he could let it become something more.

"No," He admitted quietly, fingers curling a little further but still not really applying much pressure. You always treated him so carefully that he couldn't help but do the same back.

"And it was more than just…wanting to kiss me?" He nodded a little. "More as in…you like me?"

Seungkwan inhaled softly before nodding. "Yeah, noona, I like you. I liked you so much then that it just overflowed and I couldn't stop it before I realised what I was doing. And now?" He huffed a little laugh. "I like you so fucking much that I'm constantly scared my heart is going to burst from my chest like those cartoons from when we were kids." You laughed a little at his choice of wording but you didn't look like you were laughing at him. If Seungkwan had to pick a word to describe how you were looking at him, he'd say endeared.

"That much that you're turning into a Looney Toon?" You teased, settling one palm more solidly against his cheek while the other moved to press to his chest and felt the jack rabbiting of his heart against your touch. "Sounds pretty serious, Kwan-ah."

"Y-yeah," He swallowed, not entirely sure where this was going but that hope was flitting around his torso disrupting the butterflies that had laid resting in his stomach. "Can you please tell me if you feel the same way or not because it's driving me crazy not knowing, noona," He whispered pleadingly. You smiled gently at him then leaned in to press your lips to his. Seungkwan's hands tightened around your arms and his eyes closed as he kissed you back with his face warming dramatically. "Y-you do? You like me too?" He asked for clarification purposes when you leaned back and watched his eyes flutter open.

"Yeah, Seungkwan, I like you too." You confirmed then giggled when he surged in to kiss you, not that it really worked when you were giggling and he was smiling brightly.

"Let me take you on a date tomorrow." He requested.

"I can't," You frowned a little, which worsened when you watched his face fall. "I promised to go to the spa with your mum tomorrow."

"What?" He blinked at you dumbly. "The spa? With my mum?" You nodded. "Uh…what?"

"Apparently you've told her a bunch of times that I'm the one who always tells you what skincare products to use so she wanted my opinion for her own skin and then it kind of quickly went from agreeing to go product shopping with her to skipping all that and going to the spa."

"Oh," Slowly, Seungkwan's cheeks lifted as he smiled. "I like that, that you're going to do something with my mum. I'm really happy that you get along with my family."

"Me too. I was nervous but they've been so welcoming to me. Sprinkled with not-so-subtle hints that you should be getting married to start a family of your own." You giggled when he whined and tilted down to hide embarrassedly against your neck. You wound your arms around his neck and played with his hair gently to not ruin the styling. Seungkwan's complaints fell silent, too content being in your arms for the first time to be anything but happy while his arms went around your waist. "You have things to do," You remembered after a minute of just holding each other.

"I want to do this."

"We can do this whenever we want, Kwan-ah, Naeryin-unnie only gets her wedding once. At least I hope so, I hope this is a long happy marriage for her, she deserves it."

"She does." He agreed and straightened up to look at you. "I know-I know it's not quite the same, but you deserve a long, happy relationship too, noona. And I hope I can be the person who gives it to you. If you'll have me?"

"Kwan-ah," You exhaled fondly and couldn't help but kiss him softly.

"Yes? Yes, you'll let me?" He asked, hope thick in his voice.

"Unnie will kill us for getting together on her wedding."

"She wo- okay, she would." He sighed heavily and slumped a little, lips turning pouty. "I've wanted to call you my girlfriend for so long and now I'm stopped again just when I thought it was really going to happen. Because my sister wants all the attention."

"Let her have it." You giggled.

His lips pouted further. "I can't call you my girlfriend now because of my sister and can't take you on a date tomorrow because of my mum, what's even the point of confessing?"

"You're so dramatic, Kwan-ah." You teased, tugging on his ear a little and noticed him trying to fight the twitch of his lips giving away his smile. "I have a good reason for confession regardless of the current holdbacks in being together." He tilted his head a little in question. You smirked then kissed him, mouth moving slowly this time, all lingering and none of the sweetness of earlier. Seungkwan couldn't help but groan slightly, soft and barely audible but still present as he tilted further into the kiss to match the intensity as his fingers curled into your hips.

"Think that kinda makes it worse." He murmured a few minutes later, some of your lipstick on his lips and your own a little smeared. He had the sudden urge to lean back in and make it even worse, ruin your makeup and take you apart. But he didn't, he proved to himself that he had self-control and leaned back.

"So no to doing that again?"

"I didn't say that," He rushed making you laugh. He smiled and pecked your lips before moving back. "You should fix your lipstick, baby." Your eyes widened a little at the petname. "Is-is that too much?" He asked, cheeks flushed and not just from the kiss.

"Hell no," You answered immediately then grabbed his face to kiss again. He couldn't help but kiss you back, hands secure on your waist. "Call me all the petnames you want, sweetheart."

It was Seungkwan who surged back in then, pushing you back against the dresser behind you making you gasp into the kiss. For a split second, Seungkwan wondered if putting his tongue in your mouth was too far but then it was already happening and your fingers were curling into his hair to keep him close.

You both knew that you really should not be making out, especially so heavily right then. Seungkwan really did have duties to attend to in order for the wedding to go ahead properly in a little under an hour. But you both got caught up in each other's mouths until Seungkwan's phone started to ring in his back pocket.

"Fuck, fuck, okay," Seungkwan panted out, reluctantly pulling away. Your lipstick was a complete mess now and he knew that you would need to redo your makeup and no doubt his too. He couldn't help but kiss you again as he pulled out his phone to lift. "You're going to drive me insane, you know?" He chuckled, pushing back with his hand pressed against the dresser at your side.

"Likewise," You replied simply, watching him heavily as he answered the call of his oldest sister asking where he was.

"Getting ready." He spoke into the device, eyes roaming over your body openly now that he could. "Mm, noona's going to do my makeup and hair for me then I'll be there." He hummed again in response to whatever Yerin said then hung up and put his phone back in his pocket. "I want to kiss you again but I know they'll come to drag me off if I'm not there soon."

"Mm, better keep our hands and lips to ourselves then." You pushed off of the dresser and walked over to pick up the makeup wipes from the dressing table where everything was still laid out. "Come on," You encouraged, pointing to the stool with one hand, the other already wiping off your badly smeared lipstick. Seungkwan moved his phone into his inner blazer pocket before obediently sitting down and grabbing a wipe himself to remove the mess on him too. As he worked he wondered if maybe he had a kink for smeared lipstick, because he really hadn't wanted either of you to remove it and could easily imagine you in various lipsticks under him, the colour smeared across your face and down your neck. And he was really fucking into it.

You went into professional mode once the products were in your hands and Seungkwan easily followed suit without consciously doing so. You both had a job to do here regardless of your own feelings and you would both feel endlessly guilty if anything went wrong because of you.

After two years of working with Seventeen, you had Seungkwan's makeup done swiftly then fixed his hair into place before sending him off. He leaned over to press one last kiss to your lips, this one soft and short then he rushed off leaving you grinning to yourself as you cleaned up his room.

In the end, the wedding went off without a hitch even if Naeryin had turned into an anxious mess at the last second and had to be talked down by her entire bridal team while you hovered at the side awkwardly with a little bag of emergency makeup supplies in hand in case Naeryin needed a touch up during the afternoon. Which she did need then, and also after the actual marriage ceremony itself when she cried happily at her new husband's sweet vows.

But after that, you were constantly swept away by various family members wanting to know you because it seemed that all of Seungkwan's family liked to gossip. And despite his sister literally getting married, they were all fascinated by the young woman in attendance who their dear Seungkwanie spent most of his time with in Seoul, both in and out of work. Despite that, you did genuinely enjoy yourself and loved meeting his family and old family friends who were in attendance. The stories of little Seungkwan were also a great joy for you, you just wished there had been pictures too.

Still, a little after sunset while the sky was still tinted orange, you needed a break so you escaped the beautiful hall full of people happily talking and dancing to the loud music, and wandered to the beach just a few minutes away; part of the resort so thankfully hidden from the general public. There were a few resort goers dotted along the beach but none of them paid you any attention as you walked along the sand, heels dangling in your left hand and enjoying the calm.

Seungkwan had noticed a lack of you pretty quickly, always swivelling his head around to make sure that his relatives weren't being too much meaning he'd need to intervene, but you had always been smiling and looking genuinely happy that he left you alone mostly. And when he had seen you holding his baby cousin and dancing with her, smiling brightly as the one-year-old giggled away in your arms, Seungkwan knew he definitely could not approach you then because he just knew he'd kiss you and ask you to forget about his sister and be his already regardless of the group you had been standing with. Something about you with kids had always gotten to him and now seeing you with a kid that shared his blood, well he was really understanding that his subconscious had been trying to tell him that you'd be good with your shared kids.

But when he noticed your presence gone entirely, he grew distracted until the bride herself slapped his arm. "I'm talking to you, asshole."

"Mm, yeah, I know, I'm listening." He replied, not even looking at her.

"No, you're not." Naeryin looked around too and understood. "She's probably gone to the bathroom, relax little bro, Y/N is fine."

"She's not good with all this; people and noise." He replied, frowning a little in open concern. "She always has to take breaks."

"Then she's taking a break. If it's normal, why are you so worried?"

"Because I know where she takes her breaks in Seoul, I don't know where she is right now."

"Wow," The low whistle made Seungkwan look at his sister. He only intended a quick glance but the smirk on her face wouldn't let him look away. "You're really whipped for her, huh?"

"Uhm," Seungkwan eloquently replied, cheeks pinkening a little.

"For what it's worth, I'm very positive it's mutual."

"I…I know." He admitted, looking down and fiddling with the rolled cuff of his silky shirt, jacket long ago removed thanks to the heat in the hall.

"You know?" He nodded. "As in you left your girlfriend alone the past hours for our overbearing relatives to grill?!" She reached out and hit him again, harder this time making him yell a little in complaint and step away, rubbing his hand over the impact spot on his upper arm.

"She's not my girlfriend."

"What?" She deadpanned. "You confessed to each other and you're not together? You're dumber than I thought, Seungkwan."

"It's because of you!" He defended poutily. "It happened today and we didn't want to distract from your day by getting together!"

"Are you serious?" He nodded and suddenly was pulled into a hug. "I appreciate it and love you endlessly for thinking of me but you really need to stop putting others first all the time. You've already done so much for me today and for today, Kwanie. You've made me so happy, now go make yourself happy, hm?"

"R-really? I can-I can do that?"

"Yeah, you deserve it. I think you two will be really good together." Naeryin informed as she leaned back and straightened her dress back out from the hug. "Who knows, maybe the next wedding will be you two." She teased.

"Noona," He whined embarassedly. "Don't. She already told me you've all been saying I need to get married and start a family and hinting that she should do it with me."

"Yeah," Naeryin giggled. "Pretty sure mum is already deciding which heirloom to give her first."

"Ugh, stop." He hid in his hands but he was happy, so happy. His mother thinking about heirlooms to pass to you meant she had entirely accepted you as a future member of the family and that really had his chest ballooning with pride and joy.

"Just go find her," Naeryin laughed, pushing her little brother away a little causing him to stumble slightly. "Before my new brother-in-law does. Either way, she'll wind up my sister." She teased. Seungkwan glanced over to the older brother of his new brother-in-law; a genuinely lovely guy with a classically handsome face and tall broad build; he kind of reminded Seungkwan of Mingyu in that way. Seungkwan's face turned down a little with obvious distaste, not at the man but at the thought of him going after you. "Stop glaring like an angry pomeranian and go,"

That time, Seungkwan did go, leaving the hall to step into the much cooler night air. He knew that you loved the beach so he didn't hesitate in heading that way.

It really did not take long for him to spot you crouched down at the water's edge and staring intently at something. Seungkwan approached slowly after removing his shoes and socks, taking his time to admire you in the growing moonlight. "Is it treasure?" He asked softly when he was behind you. You looked over at him and smiled a little before nodding. You then reached into the water to dig around in the wet sand while he just watched. Then you pulled your hand out and sent a finger heart his way with a cheeky grin while he cracked up laughing. You giggled and turned back to look at the little crab which you had been watching scuttle around. "Ah, noona, you're so cute." He cooed when he had calmed and moved to crouch down at your side. "Ah, a crab." He understood upon spotting the little creature.

"It's cute, huh?" You mused and he hummed.

"There's rock pools a little further down," He informed, pointing down the shore a little. You got to your feet quickly, grabbing his hand as you moved to pull him up. He chuckled and obligingly got up so that you could walk along the sand hand in hand. "I just spoke to Naeryin-noona," He informed gently, adjusting his hand in yours so that your fingers could lace together. You squeezed his hand a little and hummed encouragingly. "About us." That made you stop and look at him with raised eyebrows so he too stopped and turned to face you. "She told me to stop putting others first."

"She's got a point, you can be really selfless, Kwan-ah,"

"Mm, I know. I'm trying."

"Good." You smiled gently. "What has that got to do with us though?"

"She told me to be with you now,"

"She did?" He nodded and smiled when yours grew. "Really?"

"Yeah. So, as we have permission, can I call you my girlfriend from now on?"

You rapidly nodded and moved closer. "Yeah, yeah, you can but only if you kiss me right now."

"Deal," He grinned then dropped both his shoes and your hand to take your face into his hands and kiss you. You squealed a little but it turned into a little happy giggle as you kissed him back, your free hand holding onto his waist. "I like you, so much, noona," He informed breathlessly when the passionate kiss ended and he pulled back just enough to look at you with nothing but joy and adoration shining in his eyes. "I want to be with you for a long time. I want to make you happy for a long time."

"I want that too, Kwan-ah," You confirmed. "I want to be by your side for as long as you'll put up with me."

He laughed. "Me put up with you? Baby, you're so ridiculous, you're everything good in the world. It's me who should be saying that, me and my attitude problem. I'll work on it and try to stop side-eyeing everyone all the time."

"No," You pouted a little. "I like the side-eye."

"What?" He muttered bewildered. "You like the side-eye?"

"Yeah, there's something really hot about the way you do it." You admitted, a little embarrassed to admit that but not shying away, especially when his smile slipped into a seductive smirk.

"Yeah? You think I'm hot like that?" He murmured lowly.

"I think you're unfairly attractive all the time, baby, just something about the side-eye makes me want to take you somewhere private and have my way with you." Seungkwan's expression dropped in a split second at the implication of your words. You could see the arousal swirl into his eyes at the very thought. You couldn't help but giggle, which snapped him out of the minor trance.

"You demon," He murmured but you just giggled again and his lips turned back up into a fond smile as he admired the way the starlight reflected in your eyes. At least now, he finally had the confirmation that you truly did look beautiful under the stars.

"Mm, and this is just the start of what it's like to be in a relationship with me. It's too late to back out now though, you're my boyfriend, you're stuck with me for a long time."

"I'm more than okay with that," And well, you know the phrase; truer words had never been spoken.

A/N; I hope you enjoyed this cute lil Seungkwanie story! Don't be shy to let me know what you think <3 Also, I can't be the only one who thinks his side eye is weirdly hot, right? 👀

[bit-dodgy-innit]

We're Not Here to F*ck Spiders

Summary: You were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel took a special interest in you. He wanted to know if your life would correspond with his and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. After an offhanded comment about reviewing your canon with Miguel outside of headquarters, your relationship with Spider-Man 2099 is forever changed.

Set in between ITSV and ATSV.

Pairing: Marc x OC Female!Reader

For context, Reader is an alternate, grown-up version of Mayday due to personal reasons (personal reasons being I’ve been obsessed with Mayday Parker since I was baby child)! No real use of Y/N, though Miguel does refer to the reader as "May" twice and Peter Parker nicknamed her Mayhem. Peter B.'s daughter is Mayday.

Word Count: 10.2k words (see why this took me forever?!)

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI!!

CW/TW: An obscene amount of world-building, parents and kids fighting, mentions of a loss of a child, everyone being hot for Miguel, rough-ish sex (both partners are superheroes, come on), our boy is HUNG, dirty talk, a bit of cocky dom!Miguel, oral f!receiving, a lil bit of both m and f!receiving nipple play, PIV sex, riding, a quick spank, creampie, felching, and perhaps most intense of all, Miguel’s fear of commitment.

A/N: hahahahahaha this movie is nearly a year old and I FINALLY got around to writing a fic for it! Trust that I've been working on this on and off for a while now, but life has been nuts and writing more and more for work (yay!) but wanted to get this out while I had a slow week for everyone to enjoy!

Also, due to more personal reasons, my HC for Reader's parents are Peter and Mary Jane from Sam Raimi's masterpiece in 2002. But no presh if that doesn't jibe with ya!

I MADE A PLAYLIST FOR THIS FIC AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE PROUD OF ANYTHING

“Careful, Mayday!” you fondly called after the child who was literally bouncing off the cavernous walls of HQ. Yeesh, were you this energetic when you were her age? Probably. It never ceased to be weird, hanging out with an alternate baby version of yourself, but you could manage if you pretended she was your little niece, or sister, or something like that. 

The alternate baby version of Mayday Parker in question didn’t heed your admonishment at all (which tracked), so you called again, “Oh noooo…I’m gonna have to come up there and get ya!”

Mayday squealed in delight at your “threat” and only zipped around quicker. However, you had a couple decades on her, so your reflexes were more attuned. It didn’t take long for you to capture her in your grasp and tickle her. However, little Mayday wasn’t going to give up that easily. She squirmed out of your hold and began scaling the nearby wall at a dizzying pace. 

“Okay, missy, let’s settle down,” you announced, shooting a web to meet the infant on the platform she’d crawled onto. You continued to speak as you swung, “you know how Miguel is, we can’t get too carried…away.”

You nearly threw yourself back off the platform when you were met with the sight of Miguel himself standing before you holding May. 

“Oh, hi,” you gestured to the squirming girl in his hands, “thanks. I was right behind her.” 

“What am I like?” He asked, an inquisitive arch in his brow. 

“You’re…you run a tight ship that’s all,” you wished a portal would swallow you whole. “And it’s great! We need it.”

“Are you supposed to be anywhere?” Miguel prodded further as he passed you May. 

“Me? No, it's my day off.”

“Then why are you here?” 

“Because you put Peter B. on a mission and it gives me anxiety when he takes her.” 

“You and me both,” he huffed. 

“That being said, anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah actually, I have new sequencing to go over with you.” 

Though the multiverse was ever-expanding, you were the oldest Spider-Girl the society had ever encountered, therefore, Miguel had taken a special interest in you. Since you were a second generation Spider, Miguel wanted to know if your life would correspond with his, your dad’s, and the other Spiders’ canon, or whether you had a completely different canon you were forging on your own. You initially found the whole concept fascinating, yet that interest waned pretty quickly when Miguel informed you that he was going to have Lyla analyze your entire life and have you expound on your experiences so he could compare you to the other Spiders. 

Not that there was anything you were particularly ashamed of, but some of this stuff was embarrassing. Unlike baby Mayday, whose powers had already emerged, yours didn’t make an appearance until puberty. Reviewing your awkward teen years wasn’t exactly your ideal way of spending time with an unfairly hot guy, let alone the head of Spider Society.  

“Oh okay, yeah,” you replied. “When Peter gets ba—“

“MAYDAY! WHERE’S MY PUMPKIN?” Peter’s voice echoed across the room. 

No sooner had Peter spoken did Mayday websling herself off of the platform and into her father’s arms. 

Shit, there went your excuse. A nervous chuckle escaped you, “Convenient.” 

“Sí. Follow me.”

You did as Miguel said and trailed behind him to his…office didn’t quite describe it. Work station? Lair? You lasted all of forty-five seconds before your gaze dropped to his sculpted backside, a new record for you. 

It really was unfair that the intense, ornery leader of the Spider Society had to be so damn fine. You were a superhero and a consummate professional, but at the end of the day, you were a mostly heterosexual human woman with eyes. Miguel was stupidly sexy. His shoulder-to-waist ratio, that chiseled face, and of course, perfectly round ass had been the topic of a few hushed, giggly conversations between you and the other Spiders that liked boys. 

It was only ever cheeky whispers however. All of you knew better than to catch any real feelings for Miguel. One, it was majorly inappropriate. And two, he’d built emotional walls higher than the tallest skyscrapers in Nueva York. 

Still, your mind couldn’t help but wander every now and then…you blamed it on your latest breakup. Spider-Girl duties had yet again claimed another potential partner. You suspected that was the reason it was more and more difficult not to fantasize about Miguel lately. Like sure, he was probably an animal in bed in the best way, but it was the prospect of not having to hide anything from him that appealed to you even more. 

“Lyla, bring up the latest sequencing,” Miguel ordered. 

If it weren’t for your spider-senses, you would’ve collided with his impossibly cut back, you were so deep into your thirsty thoughts. 

Suddenly, you were back on Earth-982A in your childhood bedroom. Or at least, that’s where you appeared to be. The virtual surroundings would’ve been comforting if it weren’t for the particular event that Miguel had wanted to revisit. 

Your father was forbidding you to use your powers. Again. You gazed at the rendering of your teenage self with compassion. Now, your father was fully supportive of you following in his footsteps, but the journey there had been rough. 

“You know, most parents would be happy if their kid wanted to do something to help the world!” 

Your dad scoffed. “That doesn’t matter - I’m not most parents and you’re not most kids!”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?!” Virtual you fired back. “I was born like this because of you! Dad, you’re always telling me that ‘with great power, comes great responsibility’ and now when I discover I inherited that great power, I can’t use it!?” 

“Pause,” Miguel’s voice spooked you back into the present. When you finally shook yourself from the memory that was playing before you, you found his eyes on yours. “Okay, there. Define ‘always’.”

“Quantitatively?” 

“Preferably.” 

“That’s impossible.” 

“Qualitatively, then.” 

“I mean, it's one of those things he said so much that I can’t remember the first time I heard it.” 

“When did your dad first hear it?” 

“His Uncle Ben told him during their last conversation together.” 

“Checks out. And how old was he?” 

“He was a senior in high school, so like seventeen, eighteen?” 

Miguel nodded. Even though x-ray vision nor telepathy weren’t in your powerset, you could practically see all the comparisons and calculations he was making in his head. 

“So using your powers to help people, that was your instinct when you inherited your abilities.”

“Yeah.” 

Miguel nodded again. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” you asked him. He didn’t reply. “My dad told me he entered some god awful cage-match-wrestling-thing to get enough money to buy a car and impress my mom before he officially became Spider-Man.” 

Miguel was seemingly too busy with entering his latest data to respond. Instead, he barked at Lyla, “Resume sequence.” 

The holographic version of your dad lurched back to life to argue, “May, you are my great responsibility! So if I say no powers, no powers! I did this a lot longer than you! ” 

Tears streamed down your adolescent face. Thankfully, you’d lost some of the baby fat since.  “I hate you! I HATE YOU DAD!!” 

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. This wasn’t easy to live, let alone re-live. So, as a Spider, naturally you made a jaunty, off-handed comment. “Wow, you really know how to show a girl a good time.” 

“Qué?” 

“Nothing.” He fixed you with his signature scowl so you elaborated, “Seriously, nothing. Though, maybe if we did this in an environment where I had access to alcohol and carbs, this would be less um…less unsettling for me.”

Miguel stared at you blankly. “But the simulator is here.”

“Right, of course.” Ughhhh, why was he so damn pretty?! “Forget I said anything, Miguel.” 

He dropped it, but before the simulation could start again, your gizmo beeped. Benji’s basketball game started in twenty. 

“Actually, sorry, I have to go.” 

“But we just got started.” 

“I know, but I haven’t been able to catch one of my little brother’s games yet this season, and it’s almost the playoffs.”

“Won’t he under–”

You interrupted Miguel. “You realize spider-stuff is not a viable excuse with my family, right? Besides, it’s my day off. I’m only here out of the goodness of my own heart and my commitment to the Spider-Society.” 

He rolled his eyes at your remark, but couldn’t help a little half - nay, quarter - smile from forming across the lips you had fantasized about kissing one too many times. “Things are quiet for once. We should knock this out now.” 

“We should,” you conceded as you created a portal, “but trying to have some semblance of work-life balance is Spider-Girl canon.”

And with that, you hopped back into your world, before you could change your mind or say anything else stupid and/or unintentionally flirty to Miguel. 

You re-appeared in your apartment with just enough time to throw on clothes and swing over to the middle school. Your mom was waiting as you hurried into the gym right as Benji and the other players were taking the court. 

“Look who made it,” MJ observed wryly. 

“Ha ha,” you fired back humorlessly, but pulled your mom into a hug all the same. “Where’s Dad?”

The ref’s whistle signaled tip off and the beginning of the game, momentarily distracting you two. You were thrilled to see Benji starting – he really wanted to make JV when he started high school next year, and this was a step in the right direction. 

“Go Benji!!” MJ cheered before answering your question, “He hit traffic coming from the station. He’ll be here soon.” 

Your collective attention was pulled to the game unfolding in front of you, then MJ asked, “What have you been up to today?” 

“Me? I was at the society for a bit, helping with the baby.”

You didn’t need to see your mother to know that she tensed at the mention of the Spider-Society and Peter B.’s Mayday. It, understandably, weirded her out. 

“How can it not be strange to care for–”

“It would be if we were closer in age,” you pointed out. “But it’s just like babysitting with Mayday right now. And trust me, after all the versions of Dad I’ve met, hanging out with little me is nothing.” 

Despite being weirded out, your mom always tried to empathize, so she switched gears. “Anything interesting happen?” 

“Ugh, just more sequencing with Miguel - today was a tough one.”

“Why?”

“Fights with Dad from years ago that I know we’ve moved past, but still suck to watch.” 

Your mom took your hand in hers, a much-needed grounding gesture. “Well, you’re back in the present, in your corner of the universe now, sweetie.” 

You gave her hand an appreciative squeeze and took her words to heart, focusing on the basketball game in front of you. It didn’t take too long to put the earlier events from headquarters behind you – Benji scored a couple baskets and you took it upon yourself to meticulously document the game on your phone for memories and possible future blackmail. 

When your Dad did join you and MJ, you couldn’t help but hug him tightly. You buried your face into his coat, which smelled like a mix of smoke from the streets and his aftershave. 

It was Peter’s mix of spider and paternal instincts that prompted him to ask, “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah,” you assured him, giving him some space. “I just–I love you, Dad.” 

“Love you too, Mayhem.” Where Mayday was Peter B’s moniker for his daughter, Mayhem was your dad’s nickname for you.

The game ended in victory for Benji’s team, the Midtown Mavericks, and you three waited for the youngest member of the Parker family to emerge from the locker room. 

Benji’s face when he saw you made any lingering discomfort you had leaving Miguel one thousand percent worth it. “You made it!” 

“Wouldn’t miss it!” you pulled Benji into a hug - however reluctant he was to it since he was a ~teenager~ now. “Dude, you put up points tonight!” 

But Benji had gotten distracted, so instead of responding to you, he murmured “Woah, that guy is swole.” 

You turned around to see who he was talking about and your jaw nearly hit the floor. 

It was Miguel. 

Even more incredibly, he was in civilian clothes. It wasn’t until you witnessed him in dark wash jeans, a henley, and a well-worn bomber jacket that you realized that you’d actually never seen Miguel in anything other than his spider suit. 

He called your name and you acknowledged him with a wave, flabbergasted. Even more astonished that you knew this very attractive hunk of man was your brother, “Wait, you know him?!”

“We work together,” you said quietly. 

“At the paper?” Benji was confused. 

“No, at my other job.” 

“Oh,” it clicked for him. “That makes sense. Man, I hope I get that jacked when I get my powers.” 

“Shhhh, be cool Benji,” you urged him. 

“Um, I’m not the one you have to worry about,” he harrumphed. “Oh shit, you like him.”

Though there was more than a decade between you and Benji, your little brother was still your little brother.  “No! He’s the head of the Spider-Society and he’s–you’ll see.” 

You took a step forward to greet Miguel before anyone else from your family could get to him. “Hey! What’re you doing here?” 

“I wanted to finish our work today, and since it’s your day off, I decided to come to you.” 

“Miguel O’Hara making a compromise? How not canon. Wonder how big of a hole that’s gonna tear in the multiverse.” 

“Shut up,” he ordered you playfully. 

“Miguel, good to see you!” Your dad strode over and pulled the younger spider-man into a handshake. 

“You too, Dr. Parker.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how oddly deferential Miguel was with your dad. He’d met Peter first, when he was establishing the Arachnohumanoid Polymultiverse. Miguel was stunned to discover that this Peter was not only retired, but had a full-grown daughter who’d taken up his crime-fighting mantle. Apparently your dad’s canon was particularly important and central to the greater Spiderverse, which meant Miguel would pester you with questions about him constantly. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked, “You don’t usually make house calls.” 

Before Miguel could explain, an elbow nearly sent you into careening into his broad chest. Mom. 

“Miguel, this is my mom, Mary Jane.” 

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker,” Miguel dutifully offered his hand to her. 

“The pleasure is mine,” your mom gushed, “I’ve heard so much about you.” 

Benji was right. He was not the person you had to be worried about. A rip in the multiverse to swallow you whole would be rather convenient right about now. 

Miguel’s brow creased. “You have?”

“She hasn’t,” you intervened. “Like two or three things in passing, max. Promise I haven’t broken my NDA or you know, the superhero code of secrecy or anything.” 

Mercifully, Miguel let it slide for the time being. He turned to your brother. “And you must be Benji.” 

“Yeah,” Benji confirmed, doing a terrible job of pitching his voice lower. “‘Sup, bro.” 

Jesus Christ. At this point, you were ready to rip the fabric of reality yourself to end this. 

“Congrats on the win. Hate to do this, but I need to steal your sister for a bit.” 

“No problem, I know she’s fine with it.” Perhaps Benji needed a reminder regarding which sibling had the super powers. “Also, what’s your workout–”

“Well, as fun as this all is, we should probably get back to work.”

Your family didn’t put up much of a fight – thank God – as pleasantries were exchanged and you and Miguel took off. You hoped Miguel didn’t catch when your mother mouthed “So handsome!!” to you as everyone said their goodbyes. Finally, it was just the two of you walking down East 36th Street. 

“Sorry about them,” you began. 

He looked at you, puzzled. “Why?” 

“My family. Embarrassing.” 

“They’re not embarrassing. They’re…they’re nice,” there was pain behind Miguel’s eyes. “It’s interesting. Your brother hasn’t experienced any spider-abilities, has he?” 

“No,” you confirmed. “Not yet.”

You two slowed to stop on the corner. Miguel looked at you expectantly. “So, where to?”

“What do you mean?” 

“You said you wanted to do this in an environment where you ‘had access to alcohol and carbs’.” 

“Oh! Right. Hmmm, where are we?” you looked up at the cross streets above you. “36th and 3rd? I know a place.” 

You took Miguel to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian spot nearby. Since it was so close to Benji’s school and your old middle and high school, you had spent many a week night at their tables, either working on homework or chowing down after basketball practice. 

Therefore, the staff knew you – it was a family owned spot, you’d basically grown up with the owner’s children, Maria and Chris. Though you graduated from Midtown Charter a looong time ago, they still took care of you. Maria had even let you use their first aid kit once, no questions asked, after a nasty Spider-Girl skirmish nearby. You didn’t suspect she knew anything, but even if she did, you could trust Maria to be discreet. 

At least, you thought you could trust Maria, but when she showed you and Miguel to your table, and Miguel made a pit stop at the restroom, she very indiscreetly asked, “Daaaamn, girl. He your boyfriend? Because you–”

“No!”

“You getting dicked down by him?” 

“No!” 

“Can I get dicked down by him? He single? Does he like the ladies?” 

“Maria, he’s a colleague. Actually, he’s my superior. So no…unfortunately, no.” 

Maria cackled with delight. “That’s a pen worth sticking in your company ink. I’ll bring you some garlic bread.”

“And a glass of red wine,” you added. “no, a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!” 

In theory, you had thought that reviewing sequencing outside of headquarters would’ve been less awkward, but in reality, it was more so. You couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Miguel in normal clothes, the intimacy of having a meal together when usually your interactions were so sterile and professional, plus there was a little voice in your head screaming that THIS WAS BASICALLY A DATE on repeat.

“So should we pick up where we left off?” Miguel asked. The question brought you back down to Earth. Despite that little persistent voice in your head oohing and ahhing at him, it was clear that Miguel didn’t think this was a date. This dinner was a means to end, nothing more. 

“Let me get a little wine drunk first,” you bargained. 

“Yeah, but you have sped-up metabolism, so that’ll take at least–” 

“That was a joke. Miguel, when was the last time you went out to dinner?” 

He seemed to truly consider the question, then, “I don’t know.” 

You’d never heard Miguel say those three words in that order before. 

“I promise you I will go over my cringe teen years with you, but can we eat some garlic bread and not get drunk off this very nice bottle of wine first?” 

“You’re worse than Lyla,” his eyes narrowed. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“She’s always trying to get me to take breaks.”

“You should! There’s only so much self-flagellation a human can take, even if they’re a superhero.” 

Miguel’s response was a very inarticulate grumble. Maria dropped off the wine, bread, and took your order. You didn’t know what was more insane – the amount of food Miguel ordered or how unabashedly Maria was ogling him. 

“Let me guess, Lyla’s the one who suggested the field trip to my home dimension?”

Another grumble, this one in the affirmative. 

“Classic,” you remarked with a snort before taking a gulp from your glass. “I love that your AI is smarter than you.” 

“Of course she is, she can access all of the multiverse’s knowledge in a nano-second.’

“That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” 

“Can we not talk about me for a second?” 

“Why?” 

“Because…because, I don't know, I was hoping doing this in a more casual environment would–it’d make it feel more like a conversation.” 

“We are having a conversation.” 

“Jeez, Miguel,” you took another sip of wine. “It’s not easy digging through my past like this. A lot of the time it feels more like an interrogation.” 

“Ah.” 

“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, I want to help you, help the Spider-Society, but the one-sidedness of this is exhausting.”

“Exhausting.” He sounded dubious. 

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll take care of the bill and see you tomorrow, and we can go back to reviewing the sequencing like we normally do. I should know better than to complain to you.” 

Miguel looked at you if your words had stung him. “You can complain to me.” 

“No, I can’t,” you disputed. “You’re the most self-sacrificing Spider out of any of us–which is really saying something, by the way–and I feel lame talking about my feelings with you.”

“And that’s why our reviews feel like interrogations,” he was putting it together. 

“Yeah. Sorry to drag you out of HQ.”

Miguel scrutinized you with a long, unreadable look before announcing, “I’m not leaving before I have my bolognese.”

You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. Miguel may have lacked the traditional spidey precognitive sense, and the signature spider sense of humor, but he definitely had the stubbornness you all seemed to possess. 

You shot him a sidelong glare. “Why did you come here?” 

“I told you - I wanted to finish sequencing and Lyla suggested coming to you.” 

“But you didn’t have to take her suggestion.”

Miguel’s large frame shifted in the chair that suddenly appeared too small for him. “Like you said, she’s smarter than me, so I did. And yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve gone out to dinner.”

You didn’t know how to react to that. Right before the silence became intolerable, Miguel spoke again, “You still with that gu–’

“No.” The last thing you wanted to talk about with Miguel was your failed relationship with Gene, and you’d once discussed the correlation of getting your first period could’ve had with your powers emerging with him.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I mean, you get it.”

Miguel at last took a sip from his glass. “All too well.” 

“The price of being a hero, right?” you sent him a small, sympathetic smile across the table. “Or at least that’s what I tell myself.” 

“Your parents seemed to have figured it out,” he pointed out. 

“Well, that took like decades, and according to you, they’re canon, right? So it was meant to be. I guess that’s one of the comforts of having a canon-confirmed soulmate.” 

“Yeah, if you're Peter Parker.” 

Your heart sank at the implication. “So that means if a Spider isn’t Peter we’re meant to die alone?” 

“I don’t know,” Miguel’s eyes were averted. “Maybe only if you’re a Miguel O’Hara.” 

“Stop, you could get anyone in this restaurant to sleep with you,” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “Our waitress has to resist climbing on top of you whenever she passes the table.”

He swatted away the implication as if it were a pest. “That’s different.”

“You know, it might help with the stress.”

“What?”

“Letting someone climb on top of you.”

Miguel glared at you, “Don’t.”

“See? It’s not fun being on the other side of the questions,” you smirked. Your conversation was briefly suspended when Maria returned with your entrees. After thanking her, you refocused back on Miguel, “Can I ask you something else?”

“No.”

“DADA!” A child, who couldn’t have been more than three, screeched happily from a neighboring table. 

Miguel froze. For the first time in the several months that you’d known him, you saw his face soften. The warmth that filled his eyes at the sight of the toddler was undeniable. The fond expression hardened back into his stoic facade within an instant, yet Miguel couldn’t fully conceal the anguish that clearly still haunted him. He never could. 

“Sorry,” you said softly. 

He shook off your condolences. “What’d you want to ask me?” 

“Have you tried seeing anyone after…” it felt forbidden to say Gabriella’s name out loud. 

“What’s the point?” Miguel shrugged. “I don’t have the time, even if I wanted to.” 

“Right,” you hedged. 

Eventually, you and Miguel were able to find things to talk about outside of work and your respective traumas. You compared notes on the lamest villain you’d each encountered rounding up anomalies, discussed the idea of a nursery for spider-babies, or as Miguel insisted on calling them, “second-generation Spiders” – Peter couldn’t keep taking his kid on missions, plus Jessica Drew had just learned she was expecting – you even got Miguel to open up about his teenage days some. 

“Makes sense you were a rebel,” you chuckled, taking one last bite of the tiramisu Maria insisted was on the house.  

“Yeah? Why?” Miguel prodded.

“Because you-re so uptigh–upstanding now.” 

You were treated to another rare grin from Miguel, this time a half smile rather than a quarter. “Nice save.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you contended with put-on innocence. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t always like what I have to do, you know.” 

Your gaze locked directly with his for a breath-taking second, his eyes garnets in the low light of the dining room. “We should get going, I've taken you away from headquarters for long enough.” 

“You act like I’ve never left HQ before, and if anything, I took you away from your family,” Miguel parried, yet stood up nonetheless. You followed suit, only mildly disappointed he didn’t argue with you about leaving. As awkward as this dinner initially was, you’d actually ended up enjoying it. “I’ll take you home.”

Miguel’s words stopped you in your tracks, “You know I’m the protector of this city, right?” 

“Obviously, I—” he huffed as you waved goodbye to Maria and exited back onto the street. “Mierda May, I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Oh. Oh. Did Miguel think this was a date too? Date was too strong of a word – did Miguel think this was a not-entirely-work-related-hang too? 

You struggled to keep your face blasé. “Ah, okay. We taking the subway or are we swinging?” 

Miguel shot you a look as if the choice was obvious, which is how you found yourself traipsing across the city with Spider-Man 2099. You’d traveled by web plenty of times with Miguel before on missions, but there was something about it being the two of you, in your city, that made it feel just a little bit special. 

And to be honest, you’d never get enough of watching Miguel’s body hurtle through the air – despite his bulk and brawn, he was agile and lithe as he swung from building to building with you. You nearly plunged into traffic on Sixth Avenue after your thoughts had wandered to what those bulging muscles looked like unencumbered by that skin-tight suit of his. 

When you arrived at your apartment in Morningside Heights, you were suddenly self-conscious. You’d never brought a Spider to your residence, and Miguel was likely the hardest to impress of them all. 

He studied your modest one-bedroom with the same intensity as he did his screens at the Spider-Society. 

“It’s not much, I know,” you began, “and with Spider-Girl stuff, I don’t have the time to keep it as tidy as I'd like to.”

“It’s perfect,” he mumbled before catching himself. “I mean, it’s perfect for you.” 

“Yeah, I don’t need much, but it gets good light during the day and was the highest floor I could afford at my price point,” you removed your mask as you babbled on. 

“Makes sense,” Miguel nodded. 

You had no idea where to go from there – what on Earth was the man playing at? Should you offer him water, another drink, the best spot to portal back to HQ? He was lingering in your space, seemingly fascinated by the framed prints on your walls, the photos on the coffee table and credenza. 

“Um, do you need to use the restroom or something? Because it’s right through there,” you motioned to the appropriate door. 

“I’m good for now.”

THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE? You hollered in your head. Externally, you kept playing hostess, “Let me get you a glass of water then–”

Yet Miguel caught your wrist before you could retreat into your tiny, galley kitchen. You weren’t proud of how your heart leapt and your breath hitched at the contact. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting back?” 

He shrugged, “I should, but–”

“But what?” 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…about letting someone climb on top of me.” 

You gulped, “Sorry, that was so inappropriate of me–”

“It was. Inappropriate, that is, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea,” he tugged you closer to him. You could barely stand to meet his eyes, alight with desire, while your heart was pounding embarrassingly fast. 

“Um, judging by the–uh, do you want me to climb on top of you, Miguel?” you were always so much smoother in your daydreams about him. 

His lips hovered dangerously near yours. “Do you want to climb on top of me?” 

The closer you got to Miguel, the faster your brain turned to scrambled eggs. His large, sure hands had settled on your hips. 

“Uh huh,” was the best you could muster before he crashed your lips together. 

Miguel’s kiss was searing and all-consuming – it felt as if the longer your mouths moved against each other, the more your body melted into his. He was tall, so tall, and even for a superhero like yourself, it was difficult to keep yourself perched on the balls of your feet to reach his skilled, hungry mouth. 

He seemed to sense your struggle, and without breaking your liplock, he scooped you up into his arms. It was foreign but not unwelcome – you were so used to being the strongest, the person who held others, the hero. Therefore, being held so effortlessly in Miguel’s arms was nothing short of exhilarating. You weren’t the strongest person in the room anymore, you could surrender. You loved it.

Miguel pressed your back into the nearest wall, causing an emphatic moan to leave you when your hips became flush with his. You could already feel him – hot, hard, and big – between the flimsy fabric of your spider-suits. Instinctually, you canted your heat against his, delighting in the way he seemed to grow hotter, harder, not to mention unbelievably bigger, when you did. 

“Bedroom?” he gasped between harsh, ardent kisses. 

You managed to fling a hand in the correct direction, and next thing you knew, Miguel was depositing you onto your bed. You propped yourself up, leaning back on your palms to take in the man towering over you at the edge of your bed. In a flash of color and light, his suit disappeared from his strapping physique, and the sight of Miguel naked intoxicated you more than alcohol ever could. 

His shoulders seemed even broader without the unstable particles of his suit covering them. His pecs were massive, which made a delectable ratio when his chest tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and slim hips. Slim hips that framed the biggest cock you’d seen outside of porn – hell, maybe even including porn. He was long and thick – it made a dark thrill race down your spine when you contemplated how the hell that was going to fit inside of you. 

Miguel noticed you marveling at his package, misinterpreting the rapacious glint in your eye as unease, “I’ll prep you, I won’t hurt you.” 

“Oh, I’m not worried” you glanced back up at his face coquettishly. 

“No?” Miguel cocked an eyebrow and advanced toward you on the bed, a jaguar stalking its prey. He nudged you onto your back and pinned your wrists to your comforter, “maybe you should be.” 

You muscled out of Miguel’s grip and switched positions so you were straddling him. Only then did you lean closer and whisper into his ear, “I can take it.” 

Miguel growled, and within an instant, you were on your back once again as he pawed at your suit. Unlike his costume, your spider-suit was made of plain old fabric, so there was a bit of fumbling, cursing in Spanish, nervous giggling, and a mumbled comment about ‘making you a suit like mine’ from Miguel before you were nude as well. 

He splayed you out against your mattress as if you were a feast before him. Your first instinct was to try and cover yourself but Miguel’s dark gaze froze you. A pleased groan rumbled from his chest and then his large hands flew to your breasts. “Such full, perky tits.”

You moaned in response to his ministrations. How was this real? You and Miguel were touching each other – naked – and you hadn’t woken up yet. 

“It’s all for you,” you mewled, relishing his hot palms on your sensitive buds. 

Another growl ripped from his chest before he swooped down and sucked one of your nipples into his warm, wanting mouth. You keened, a pathetic, high-pitched sound, and you wove your fingers into his dark locks as he gorged himself on your tits. 

The pull of Miguel’s mouth on your peaks was made only better when he snaked a hand between your legs and ran a finger along the seam of your sex. You bucked at the touch, your reaction causing Miguel to lift his head from your bosom. 

“Mmmm, you like it when I play with your pussy, cariño?”

At this point words had all but left you so you nodded and whined in the affirmative. Miguel’s digit parted your folds, tracing up and down, then found your clit and rubbed slow, tortuous circles into the nub. 

“So wet for me, bebita,” he observed, maddeningly casually, while he played you like an instrument. “This is all for me, huh?”

Your head thrashed back and forth on your comforter with a sob, both from pleasure and bashfulness. Now there was no downplaying how horny Miguel made you. 

“Shhh,” he cooed at you, taking one of your hands and bringing it to his groin, “feel what you do to me.”

This time your moan was unabashed as your hand circled around his girth. “Fuck, you’re so big.” 

“I know,” he grunted. Normally, such braggadocio from a man would be an immediate turn off to you. But Miguel wasn’t being arrogant, not when he was referring to the thick, pulsing hardness you were currently caressing. “Gotta get you ready for me.”  

He guided your hand away from his member, even despite your protests, to wrench your thighs wider and bury his head between them. The realization alone that Miguel O’Hara was about to eat you out almost made you come, yet actually feeling his tongue on your needy cunt was infinitely better. He licked a stripe from your perineum to your clit, tearing another ragged moan from you when his tongue focused in on the bundle of nerves. 

Miguel chuckled against your folds at your enthusiastic praise and redoubled his efforts. Your fingers reflexively tangled in his inky locks once again as he continued his delectable assault on your pussy. The way Miguel tasted you matched with how he seemed to approach everything – he was vehement and determined to bring you pleasure like how he was when he worked. He managed to just stay on the right side of rough as he slurped at you..though perhaps that was a bit different than how he fought.

He speared his tongue into your hole, affording you the opportunity to grind your clit against his prominent nose. In your pleasure-filled haze, you briefly fretted that you were suffocating Miguel, but when you tried to scooch away and give him some air, the man grunted and pulled your hips closer to him.

You keened again when one of his thick fingers joined the fray as he prepped you. After all the sexual tension, all the self-denial, and all the excitement the night had held, it felt so good to clench around something. He was again methodical with his preparation, allowing you to adjust to one digit before adding another, and another. It couldn’t have made a starker contrast with how he was devouring your sex. Even in the bedroom, Miguel O’Hara was full of contradictions. It didn’t take long for your breaths to become more shallow, for your cries to reach a higher pitch as you climaxed around his hefty fingers. The combination of the penetration and the stimulation of your clit with his mouth was too good to resist. 

You were slightly relieved that Miguel remained nestled between your legs while you rode out your peak. The orgasm he’d given you was much too good to be able to control your facial expressions. 

He at last came up for air once you’d begun floating down from your peak. A primal pride surged through you at the sight of your juices smeared all over his lips and chin. You couldn’t help but smash your mouths together, eager to sample the combination you two made. It was all too easy to get lost in a kiss with Miguel, yet as you plundered his mouth with your tongue, your hand crept back down his groin. 

This time it was Miguel who moaned into your mouth as you returned him to full mast with feather-light, teasing touches. 

“I need to fuck you,” he gasped between kisses. 

“Finally,” you bantered back. 

A growl from Miguel and then he tackled you back flat on the bed. You couldn’t help the giggle – partly from nerves, partly from anticipation – that escaped you at his actions, despite the visage of a hulking, intimidating man hovering over you could be frightening in another context. 

“Do you have protection?” 

You hesitated. You kept a box of condoms in your bedside drawer, but given Miguel’s size, they’d be inadequate. 

“None that would fit you,” you confessed, stealing another glance at his large erection. It was truly a sight to behold. Miguel deflated slightly, fearing penetration was off the table, and usually it would be. You were firmly a two methods of contraception girl, but there was no way you were going to pass up this chance to have sex with Miguel. “Don’t worry Spidey, I’m on the pill.” 

“Gracias a Dios,” he muttered, then wasted no time situating himself between your hips. He drew yet another mewl from you when he slapped the tip of his cock a few times on your clit before lining himself up with your entrance. 

He found you looking at him expectantly. And though Miguel mostly saw desire in your eyes, he could see the glimpse of unease too. He assured you, “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded, you trusted him after all, but nothing could prepare you for the stretch of when Miguel finally pushed into you. Just the tip was already splitting you apart more than Gene, or any former lover for that matter, ever had. 

“Breathe,” Miguel rasped. You couldn’t tell if he was advising you or himself though. It struck you then that you’d perhaps achieved the damn-near impossible – disarming the notoriously closed-off Miguel O’Hara. He looked beautiful, biting his plush lower lip as he slowly rocked more and more of his huge cock inside of you. 

Your back arched off the mattress of the sensation of being progressively speared on the monster that Miguel called a dick. It was too much and not enough all at once, and your fingers dug into your comforter below you. He tried to distract you from any potential pain, Miguel’s index finger returning to your barely-recovered clit. 

“That’s it, open up for me,” he husked. Your head swam at the mix of his enormous manhood stretching you to your limit and his tender, in-control tone. The realization hit you harder than a punch from an anomaly. In that moment, fear skittered down your throat and pooled into your stomach, resting right above where you two were joined. He’s going to ruin me for other men, isn’t he? 

You couldn’t think any further since not only was Miguel fully seated within you, he had asked you a question. Your eyes glassy and pupils blown, found his, and he repeated himself. “You okay? Can-can I move?”

“Yes,” you gasped. In case your breath affirmation left any room for doubt, you added, “please.”

Another grunt from your lover and Miguel at last began to thrust into you. Your arms flew from the bed to his impossibly wide shoulders, your nails digging into the caramel, taut skin there. You couldn’t tell exactly when it’d happened, lost in the deliciously lewd sounds you were making between the slap of your bodies, your labored breaths, and his determined staccato grunts while Miguel railed you, but your hips had begun to meet his. 

“M-more Miguel,” you urged him as you dragged your fingertips down the expanse of his back. Each of your hands grabbed a fistful of that glorious ass and squeezed to drive home your point. 

“You sure?” 

You moaned. It was as if he couldn’t give it to you hard or faster enough. You used your grip on the globes of his perfect rear to try and force him to increase to the pace and force you needed him to fuck you at. 

Miguel laughed. A dark and stirring sound that made you involuntarily tighten around his girthy length. “Alright bebita, but remember…you asked for this.” 

His words ignited something defiant within you. You pulled Miguel’s head from where it had fallen into the crook of your neck so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I’m not some pillow princess from Nueva. I’m just as strong as you are, I can go just as hard you can, and I want you to fuck me.” 

Your lover’s eyes darkened at your demand. The growl that ripped from his throat was your only warning before Miguel unleashed the full force of his strength on you. You keened in pleasure as he all but drove you through your bedframe and the wall behind it. Miguel captured your wrists once more and restrained you against the mattress as he absolutely pounded into your pussy. 

His drilling drew another ecstatic cry from your mouth. Miguel glared down at you, his eyes nearly crazed, his face barely lit in the ambient light from the street. It truly was infuriating to you how beautiful this man was. You watched his brow furrowed in concentration – not on his stupid screens for once – and his dark hair shift in time with his thrusts.  Your features contorted in pleasure when Miguel switched from drilling into you to swiveling his hips to stuff you with his cock. His movements were deliberate and slow, he was trying to get as deep inside of you as he could. You almost went cross-eyed at the feel of his bulbous cockhead punching against your cervix. 

The criminal undulations of his hips extracted a little yip from you each time he pistoned into you. He grinned down at you wolfishly. Equal parts indignation and arousal bloomed within you. Also, was the first time you'd ever seen Miguel smile? Not a little half-smirk or a humorless quirk of his lips, but an unabashed smile?

“Want me to back off?” 

Oh, there was no way you were going to take that lying down. Even if Miguel’s pubic bone was perfectly grinding into your clit. 

You let out a growl of your own and summoned all the power in your core muscles to wrestle Miguel back and claim the high ground. Out of breath when you found yourself seated on Miguel’s dick, his large, muscled body prone beneath you, you braced yourself on his rippled abdomen.

“Is the itsy-bitsy Spider-Girl gonna ride my cock?” he taunted you. If Miguel didn’t wear that arrogant, playful smirk so well, you would’ve wiped it from his lips. 

You slid your hands up the length of his chest and leaned over, your face hovering over his. “That depends. Can 2099 handle it?” 

Miguel answered you with an impatient buck of his hips up into your sex. You giggled as you straightened up again, tweaking one of Miguel's nipples as you went. You relished the little shudder it sent through him. “Alright, but remember baby, you asked for this.”

He snorted out a laugh, which you quickly silenced once you began riding Miguel like the stud he was. “Hnnn–shock, bebita.”

“Ah,” you sighed as you bounced on his prick. Before sleeping with Miguel, you had assumed the term “feeling him in your guts” was hyperbole. Not with him. “Fuck, you’re even bigger like this.” 

A large hand traced its way up one of your thighs, now lightly covered with a sheen of sweat, past your sex, split apart by his shaft, to where Miguel’s manhood made the slightest bulge in your lower belly. His smile became wider and even cockier. “It’s good, no?”

You gave him a nonverbal, but enthusiastic, reply. He smacked your ass in satisfaction, “Yeah c’mon, cariño, ride me. Wanna watch your tits bounce.” 

You officially hated Miguel and his big, thick, perfectly sized cock. Where as with other partners you’d smack them right back with a zinger, all you could do was moan again. His naughty, domineering words did nothing but excite you. There was something about him and the way he fucked that made you incapable of doing little else than enthusiastically submitting to him. You leaned back, your fingers clutching onto Miguel’s thick thighs to stability as you changed angles and gave him a better view of your breasts jiggling in time with your motions. 

“Ay, sí bebita,” Miguel’s hands flew to your hips to intensify the frantic mashing of your bodies together, “Ven aquí.”

He gathered your torso in his hulking arms and pulled you closer so that he could coax a breast into his mouth again as you rode him. 

“You gonna come for me Miguel?” you panted.  

“No,” he sounded as winded as you were. “Not yet.”

You clenched around him and snickered. “Are you sure?” 

“¡Coño!” Miguel snarled at the feel of your already blistering, tight pussy suffocating his dick further. “¡No más – basta de esto!”

The vision of your bedroom swam when Miguel lifted you off his pulsing member and dropped you back on your stomach onto the mattress facing the foot of the bed.. You could hear him shifting behind you, and you blindly groped for the lower metal railing of your bedframe’s footboard, only vaguely aware what was to come. 

A grunt from Miguel, and the next thing you knew one of your pillows was stuffed under your lower belly and his massive hands were back on either side of your hips. Your lover didn’t give you any notice before shoving his fat erection back inside of your already tender pussy. 

You shouted at the feeling of his cock stuffing you to the brim once again. Miguel’s hands appeared above your head where you held on for dear life as he impaled you on his prick.

“Ahhh!” you clamored, desperately trying to pull enough air in your lungs to function as Miguel squatted behind you. “I’ve never been so full! Oh God, Miguel, it’s so much…so much…”

Miguel responded with a pleased growl, and merely rammed into you harder. You were peripherally aware of the clanging of the pieces of your metal bed frame clanging together in protest at the vigor of your and Miguel’s coupling, but there were too many sensations overwhelming you at once to focus on one in particular. Not even when the metal groaned and the angle Miguel fucked you at changed did you pay attention to what was actually happening. You merely pushed back onto his cock as much as you could, your fingertips scrabbling into the folds of your comforter. 

Your eyes screwed shut at the barrage of stimuli - the unrelenting stretch of Miguel’s hardness,  his harsh but steadying grip on your hips, the light scratch of fabric beneath you on your skin, the little puff of warmth on the back of your neck from Miguel’s labored exhalations. You were sure this was better than any high any drug could provide. You hadn’t tried many, not even Rapture, and but nothing could top being thoroughly fucked into your mattress by Miguel O’Hara.

Miguel’s dogged grunts morphed into shouts when he at last found his release, spurting rope after rope of hot, creamy cum into your welcoming cunt. You found yourself crying out along with him as he emptied his load, your walls bearing down around his length as you both rode out his high. Miguel flooded your pussy with his seed and before you could even try to adjust to the feeling, he withdrew his cock from you, tearing a quite pathetic-sounding whimper from your mouth. 

Miguel pulled your ass cheeks apart to examine your stretched, puffy pussy leaking his cum. His chest rumbled with primal delight. “Hermosa.”

You’d barely had a chance to catch your breath when Miguel dove back in for more, this time his eager, demanding tongue again invading your channel. You whimpered again, your pitch jumping an octave at Miguel’s needy tongue not only collecting his spunk from your pussy, but flicking the muscle against your clit. He was a man possessed, he ate you out as if he needed you to orgasm one more time for his survival. 

You gave him what he wanted (how could you not?), and once the crest of your pleasure had subsided, you lightly pushed him away from your gaping, abused cunt. 

The first thing you noticed when your wits returned to you was how much closer the ground had become. 

“Oh my God,” you put it together and turned to face your partner, "we broke the bed.”

Miguel arched a brow from where he leant back into the pillows. “Are you surprised?”

You frowned at him.  

“I’ll fix it,” he promised. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’m going to…” you trailed off your gaze floating to the bathroom.

“Do your thing.”

“Can…can I get you anything?” 

Miguel glanced down at his crotch. “A towel?” 

You nodded. “Say no more.” 

You ducked into your en-suite, and once you were sure the door was firmly closed behind you, you proceeded to have a freak out to yourself in the mirror. You scarcely believe your own appearance – lips kiss swollen, hair a veritable bird's nest, your mascara smudged into rings around your eyes. Miguel had destroyed you in the best of ways. 

The thought sent a little aftershock of pleasure through you. You didn’t dally any longer — you relieved yourself, washed your hands, ran a brush through your hair and splashed water on your face. After dampening a washcloth for Miguel, you returned to the bedroom, where your bed frame was properly vertical again. 

You glimpsed the glow of Miguel’s distinctive red webs holding the broken metal rods together. The other Spider was reclining on your mattress, a sheet haphazardly tossed over his groin to preserve his modesty. Even so, the sight of him made you go weak in the knees. He really did remind you of some sort of a large cat given the odd grace in which he lounged with, the evidence of his power and strength so poorly hidden under the surface of his skin. 

“Get a new frame and expense it to Spider-HQ,” Miguel's baritone snapped you out of your reverie. 

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” You tossed him the towel. 

His eyes raked over your naked form. But instead of the desire you’d found there earlier, his gaze was full of concern. “You okay?”

“Yes. Very okay. A little sore but good sore, ya know?” 

“Good,” Miguel busied himself with cleaning up. 

“I mean, what’s the point of having superpowers if you can’t enjoy extra rough sex?” you joked. 

“Yeah, about that,” Miguel refused to meet your eyes. “As um…great as all this was…I think we–it should be a one-time thing.” 

“Um, duh.” He looked up at you hastily and you continued, “Miguel, neither of us are anywhere close to ready or in the right place for a relationship.” 

Your heart disagreed with your words, but you uttered them anyway. Not because it was how you truly felt, but you knew it was what he wanted to hear. Miguel associated any sense of closeness or vulnerability with weakness and danger. Trying to get him to see otherwise was a fool's errand, and it was easier on your heart to convince yourself into concurring with him. 

Oddly, Miguel didn’t seem to relax at your assurances. He looked dubious. “Are you sure?” 

“Oh my God, you are so cocky!” you accused him with a playful slap to the broad, tan chest. “Spare me the fake worry 2099, you may be amazing at sex, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to be professional with you at HQ.” 

“Amazing at sex?” Mirguel parroted you with a smirk. 

You slapped him again. “Of course that’s the only part you heard.”

“Sorry but those are very distracting,” he claimed, his gaze focused on your exposed breasts. 

You scoffed and grabbed a pillow to temporarily cover yourself. “Hang on there, Spider-Man. Yes, you are…not terrible at showing a lady a good time, no, you don’t have to worry about me being clingy at work, and yes, I’m sure so stop looking at me like that!” 

You tossed the pillow away and straddled him. “Now I don’t know about you, but it’s only midnight. If this is indeed a one-time thing, I say we make the most of the night and the fact that no one has bothered us with some multiversal emergency yet.” 

Miguel finally let it go, choosing to focus on your very nude body on top of his. His hips moved on their own accord, grinding his cock, already stiffening back up to full mast, against where you were still so nice and stretched for him. 

“Vamos, bebita,” he whispered into your ear. His fingers dug into your sides possessively in a way that almost let you believe he was doing it because you were his. “Wanna fuck you on the ceiling.” 

***

You shouldn't have been surprised that Miguel didn’t stay the night. You were honestly shocked when he collapsed beside you after the hours you’d spent vehemently fucking. Your bed was now held together by a mix of both his and your webs, one of your framed photos on the wall lay shattered on the floor to be dealt with later, and the ceiling now sported a dent that was going to be very difficult to explain to your landlord. 

The memory of Miguel leaving was hazy at best. After so many rounds of deeply satisfying, intensely athletic sex, you felt like you could sleep for a week. Yet the shift and dip of Miguel’s large frame exiting the bed was enough to wake you. You could sort of recall a small flash of light and chirpy voice which must have been Lyla…and you also had a vague memory of him replying in a hushed rumble as if not to wake you up. Or was he telling you he was heading out? Everything jumbled together under the fog of sleep. 

Either way, you had to tell yourself that the sensation of a large hand caressing your face and then tenderly stroking down the sleep-warm skin of your back was a dream. Not for Miguel’s sake, but yours. 

Thanks to super-spider stamina, you only really needed a couple extra shots of espresso to function somewhat normally the following day at headquarters. You were angry at your instinct to avoid Miguel. You both were adults that had an adult, mature conversation that last night’s activities were merely a form of stress release that didn’t mean anything. It was hard to believe however, when you could still feel the phantom shape of him inside of you. 

Besides, it’s not even like you could avoid him if you wanted to. You were scheduled to go over more sequencing today with Miguel, and you were dead set on not blinking first in the post-sex-awkwardness stand-off. 

“Hey, Miguel!” your voice reverberated in the vast space. 

Several agonizing moments later, his platform lowered enough for you two to start conversing. If he was at all bashful about seeing you, the man didn’t show it. 

“Good. You’re here.”

“Yep.” 

Miguel was all business. “I want to go back to the fight you had with your father. Lyla, take us to timestamp 46:90:45.”

Damn, and here you thought you were good at compartmentalizing. You did your best to hide any disappointment from reaching your face, playing along as if he hadn’t seen every crevice of your body the night before. 

***

Days turned into weeks, and you eventually, reluctantly accepted that Miguel had told you the truth that night. What you two had shared was really just a one-time lapse of his frighteningly strong self-restraint. 

You were enjoying a rare night in, parked on the couch, takeout boxes strewn about the coffee table, your favorite trashy reality show playing on your TV. You’d gotten injured taking down a Doc Ock variant a few days ago, and Miguel benched you to recuperate. You were all too happy to take a break, from him and Spider-Girling. Despite your complicated feelings for the man, he assigned a recently displaced Spider, Spider-Woman 1357, to pinch hit for you in your dimension while you healed up. It was the first time since you became a hero you had a day off with peace of mind. 

Just as you started another episode, a tingle raced down your spine. Your spider-sense. Something was about to happen. Out of all the possibilities of what could have followed, a portal opening in your living room and Miguel walking through was the last thing you would’ve guessed. You leapt up from the sofa. 

You instantly regretted your appearance - messy bun, no makeup, and ratty sweatpants. Miguel, as usual, looked immaculate in his skintight spider-suit. 

“Hey.” 

“Is this a booty call?”

“No.” 

“Don’t bullshit me–”

“It’s not, I swear! Coño, I came to check on you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you could have messaged me on my gizmo. It’s your preferred method of communication after all, ever since the last time you were in my apartment.” 

“May–”

Lyla appeared over his shoulder. “He missed you, that’s all.”

Miguel growled at his AI. “I’m going to sentence you to robot death via spreadsheets.” 

Lyla wasn’t threatened in the slightest. “Thank me later.” She disappeared before Miguel could try and make another retort. 

“You missed me?”

“No,” his denial was instant. “I just…I–”

“This is a booty call!” you crumpled up a napkin and chucked it at his large form. “Go home, Miguel!” 

He didn’t budge. “It’s not a booty call. I…what are you watching?”

“The Realest Housewives of Manhattan. What, don’t judge me!”

Miguel couldn't keep his face straight. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Seeing his eyes crinkle with amusement was infectious. You threw another napkin ball at him and then composed yourself. He wasn’t getting off the hook this easily. “Why are you here? Be honest with me. It’s the very least I deserve.”

“I wanted to see the shocking expensive bed frame you expensed to HQ for myself.” 

“You said I could and you didn't set a spending limit.” A wicked little grin pulled at the corners of your mouth. The bed frame from Restoration Hardware had been your own private form of revenge. “And I’m supposed to believe you wanting to see my bed – my bed that you broke–”

“Hey! We broke the bed–”

“--is not your thinly veiled excuse for seeking another roll in the hay? Enough with goddamn mind games Miguel.” He tried to speak but you pushed on, “I’m tired and this is the last thing I need.”

Miguel sobered. He hung his head. His mouth seemed to fight the words as they left his lips.  “Alright, fine. I missed you.” 

You ignored your heartbeat’s sharp increase and schooled your features to maintain a neutral appearance. “I have some extra Pad Thai if you want.” 

“Sounds good.” 

“So this may not be a booty call, but does anyone other than Lyla know you’re here?”

“No.” 

You nodded. “Come. Sit. I just started the episode where Beverly throws her poodle a forty thousand dollar birthday party.” 

“Nothing you said just now made sense,” Miguel protested, but took a seat on your couch anyway. 

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed!! Miguel has fully rotted my brain so I thought it only fair to share the horniness. Of course I have more imagined in this AU, fingers crossed I can find more time to write (comments and reblogs and likes help!)

Translations:

Mierda - Shit 

cariño - dear

bebita - baby

Gracias a Dios - Thank God

Ven aquí - Come here

¡Coño! - Damnit!

¡No más – basta de esto! -No more, enough of this!

Hermosa - beautiful

Vamos, bebita - Come on, baby

Taglist: @plethora-of-imagines, @itdobe-liza @absolutelybloodyhopeless @ninebluehearts, @oscarissac2099 @trinthealternate