#a wall of climbing ivy

[climbingivy97]

Saltburn fanart of Felix and Oliver

Original fanart made by me because I cannot get this film out of my brain 😅

Would people want me to sell prints of this or stickers? (Or both)

[locationbuildingprompts]

Location Building Prompt #283

[mostly-imagines]

The Venus Drug

jason todd x afab!reader

aka the side effects of a run-in with poison ivy

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), sex pollen so its inherently not strictly speaking consensual, oral (f & m receiving), free use, overstimulation

A clattering in your living room has you blearily shifting awake. The dark of your bedroom takes your eyes longer to adjust to than usual, it feels like. You peer at the time, finding it only just past midnight. Even on the good nights, midnight is pretty early for him to be coming back. 

Though, there’s really little concern of the noise-maker being anyone but your boyfriend, he’s set up too many security measures and failsafes around your apartment for anyone to get lucky waltzing in. It does worry you though that he is making such a clamor when he’s usually so careful about entering silently as to not wake you. 

You’re about to climb out of bed to investigate when the door creaks open, though light doesn’t flood through the crack like you’d expected.

Jason stumbles into the doorway, falling into a lean against the wall for support.

You sit up quickly, instantly on alert. “What’s wrong?”

He takes one glance at you and immediately averts his gaze to the floor like he saw something he wasn’t supposed to.

You look down, thrown by his behavior, only to see your usual nighttime attire: one of his shirts over underwear.

You blink back up at him, furrowing your brow. “Jay?”

You can vaguely make out a sigh from him, “Fuck…” he squeezes his eyes shut. “Ivy..”

Ah. This has happened before to the others, but this is the first time you’ve seen him affected by it. You’re prepared for it, though you hadn’t anticipated that it would be so seemingly debilitating.

“What can I do?” You try not to look as concerned as you feel but you can’t say with confidence that it’s working.

He slowly pushes himself off the doorframe, heading wearily towards the bathroom. He tugs his shirt off with difficulty, tossing it to the side. “Nothing, nothing..I jus’ need to…” he takes a deep breath, “Get it out of my system..” He’s trying to be comforting but the pain in his voice rids it of all believability.

You frown, watching him linger. “That seems like the exact kind of thing I could help with.”

His eyes close helplessly as his head falls back, “You can’t, baby.”

“Why not?”

He sighs, “I’m not…as in control as I’d like to be right now.”

Your pout deepens. This is something you’re working on with him—trusting both you and himself with vulnerability. Especially when it comes to situations where he feels like he’s putting you in a vulnerable place too. But you trust him with your whole being and you want him to know it. “That’s okay.”

“No,” he shakes his head vehemently. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you say resolutely. “I trust you.”

He wavers, “No, I…No. I can’t.”

He says that, but he’s still not retreating to the bathroom. Instead, he loiters awkwardly, like he’s caught between decisions.

You feel a twinge of heartache in your chest, “Does it hurt?”

He’s quick to answer, “I’m alright.” Though he doesn’t try his hardest to sell you on the idea. 

Your face pans, “That’s not what I asked.”

“I—” he huffs, conceding. “Yeah. Yes.”

You extend your arms out, beckoning him towards you. It clearly goes against his better judgment but he can’t help himself from moving closer to you. An evident testament to the strength of Ivy’s work.

You take his hands in yours, looking up at him with begging eyes, “Let me help you? Please?”

Up close like this you can really see how labored his breathing is and how pained he looks. You sit up onto your knees, pulling his hands closer. “I wanna take care of you. Let me help my boy out. He deserves it.”

He steels his jaw, trying to replenish his rapidly weakening resolve. He exhales heavily before grabbing your chin, eyes serious. “Look at me,” he says sternly. “You stop me if I’m too rough.”

You nod adamantly, “I will.”

You fidget with the loop of his belt, waiting for permission. 

He squeezes your hands slowly, head bowing. “Help me, sweetheart.”

You’re instantly up on your feet, maneuvering him to switch places with you and sit down on the bed. You kneel down in front of him, undoing the clasp on his belt.

You tug his belt off, letting it clatter on the floor before freeing him the rest of the way. To your surprise, his eyes remain on you rather than your actions. He brushes your hair out of your face haphazardly, murmuring, “Pretty fucking girl..”

You keen at his words, fighting the urge to pause and rub up against him. Instead, you busy yourself and lick a line up his cock, immediately feeling his body stutter. You lick another stripe, this time adding a kiss afterwards.

His hands squeeze at the comforter under him, “Baby, please.”

You give a short nod before taking him in your mouth completely. He groans like it’s automatic, body practically vibrating in place. You rest your hands over his and he’s quick to turn his own over to hold onto yours.

It only works as a momentary distraction, as one of his hands leaves your grasp to move your hair from blocking his view again, petting your head nicely as you suck him off. “Oh, good girl. My good girl.”

He babbles when he gets overwhelmed during sex, though it doesn’t happen often. And especially not like this.

“Fucking—” he stammers, “God, you’re so—”

Frankly, the image of you on your knees in front of him, so willing and eager to help him out…it’s killing him. He’s putting absolutely all of his remaining restraint into not taking over and fucking your mouth the way he wants to—and it shows—so you’re doing your best to take as much of him in your mouth as you can and using your hand to compensate for the rest.

His head bobs back as his hand falls to a rest atop your head. His breathing is deep and heavy and you can see the way his abs flex through his restraint. His hand briefly fists up before stuttering back to lay open-palmed on your head.

“Oh, baby—” he lets out a gravelly moan and his arms nearly give out from holding him up as he comes.

You happily collect it on your tongue and he audibly groans when you swallow.

He’s quick to pull you up off the floor and place you on the bed so he can clamor over you. You fall back to have your arms hold you up as he finds your lips. 

“Take your shirt off,” he tells you breathlessly. “Please.”

You oblige without hesitation as he kisses and gropes along your torso. You don’t realize what he’s doing until he’s at face level with your underwear, fingers dipping under the band.

You sit up onto your hands, “Jay, you don’t have to—”

He shakes his head, “‘M not gonna hurt you,” he mumbles, very adamant. “Not doin’ it.”

It’s been a long running personal requirement for Jason to thoroughly prep you in some way before fucking you, and he’s right for it—you would definitely get hurt if he didn’t.

You feel conflicted about it now though, like it’s not fair of you to let him pay such mind to you when he’s quite literally in unprecedented pain.

But he slips your underwear down without hesitation, not wasting any time in getting to work. He doesn’t start with his usual teasing and build-up, instead he goes straight into licking at your core, eyes closed and strands of white hair stuck to his forehead. 

He hooks one hand around your knee and the other wraps around your thigh, pulling you closer. He used the newfound proximity to lap at you with more concentration and purpose, quite literally devouring you. You struggle to keep your breathing in tune with the rest of your body, not having been prepared for so much so quickly.

He’s eating you out like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, not giving himself any time to breathe or even think about anything else. You’re about to push him away so that he’ll take a breath or two when he moans into your cunt, instantly veering your brain straight off course.

He breaks from licking your pussy only to change course in favor of sucking on your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses every few seconds. You thread your fingers through his hair, trying to soothe him as best you can.

This is a new experience for both of you in terms of intensity and desperation and it has you feeling like you were injected with the same toxin he was. It throws you so completely out of your senses that you don’t even notice that he’s rutting into the bed as he kisses you. Though, odds are he doesn’t realize he’s doing it either.

His grip on you tightens as he gets more fervent, the dig from the indents of his fingers promising to bruise. His eyes flutter as he makes out with your pussy, little mewls making their way through periodically.

“Jay—” you cry, tugging harder than you’d meant to on his hair. He hums in response, letting you know that he’s here, he’s with you, he’ll take care of you. 

Even high out of his mind he can still read you like a book, and can tell that you’re nearing your peak. He gets meditated and precise with his actions, leading you right up to the edge. You whimper again and he begins to rut harder.

It takes only a few moments of this repetition for you to briefly tense up before you start to tremble, heat flooding through your body. The saccharine new taste of your cum motivates him to reach his own end, moaning into you and sending a second wave of rapture over you.

You exhale heavily as his forehead drops against your stomach, catching his breath. It doesn’t take him very long. 

You can just start to realize the persistent trembling in your thighs when he licks another stripe down your pussy. You whine, sitting up on your elbows and squirming higher up on the bed.

He pulls back murmuring, “Sorry.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, “Sorry.”

You watch as he pushes up on his forearms to look at you proper, seeming almost dizzy. “I need..I need…” his shoulders drop. “Please.”

You just nod, giving him permission to do whatever he needs. 

He pulls you up by the waist and tugs you into him as close as he can, kissing you hard. You move to hold his jaw in your hands, stroking your thumb across lightly. He leans you backwards to lay you down flat, head just below the pillows. He folds over you easily, kisses becoming less and less intentional in placement as his hands stroke and squeeze up your sides. 

He pulls away only to glance down as he lines himself up with you, pushing in slowly. He peers back up at your face as he does, watching carefully to make sure it doesn’t hurt.

You hold onto his shoulders as you take him, the stretch feeling significant but familiar.

He kisses your cheek once he’s fully inside and begins to rock in and out of you slowly. The pace picks up quickly as he continues to makeout with you.

A particularly intense thrust has you wrapping your arms fully around the frame of his shoulders, hugging him close to you. He immerses himself in the crook of your neck, fucking you with deeper and more punctuated strokes than you can remember.

“Jay,” you gasp as he places firm kisses across your jaw like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that he fucking loves you.

His thrusts gradually get faster and while it’s perfectly overwhelming for you, it doesn’t seem to be enough for him. 

He huffs before pulling out of you without warning. He untangles your arms from around him so he can flip you over to lay on your stomach. He pulls you back up just as quickly, arm wrapped around your torso, leaving you to hold yourself up by your hands and knees as he kisses on your neck messily.

This time when he reenters you he continues on with his previous pace, taking you by surprise once again. Your mouth is practically hanging open as he ruts into you, successfully sending your thoughts straight out of your head.

He lays kisses down your spine murmuring, “I love you.” He moves in and out of you without falter, “Thank you, thank you..”

His hands hold your waist in place, keeping you steady for both of your sakes. Multiple times his grip tightens only to loosen the second he realizes how hard he’s squeezing you. You don’t mind though, you’ve never had any trouble revering marks left behind by him before. 

“It’s—” you pant, “It’s okay—” you reach back to put your hand over his, pressing down.

His brash hold returns upon the permission, more assured. “Good girl, good—” he praises, “So fucking good for me, baby.”

He reaches around and dips his free hand below your hips, beginning to rub circles on your clit.

Your arms shake and you worry that they’re nearing buckling, but, attuned with you as ever, his arm wraps tighter around your middle, pulling you up a bit higher so that you barely have to mind any of the work of holding yourself up.

He makes sure to support your weight nicely, holding you in a way that he knows won’t be uncomfortable for you. His circles never cease, never falter from that just right pace he’s come to know like the back of his hand.

You’re brought to your high by the arrival of his, struggling to keep your head upright as you come.

He thumps down over to the side to lay on his back, chest heaving. You pick up your head to look over at him, finding that he doesn’t look nearly as exhausted as you’re sure you do. Still, he breathes heavy, pupils blown out and sweaty.

You notice how his fists clinch up and loosen a couple times over, trying to convince himself that he’s done, he doesn’t need any more from you, he’s all better now. 

But you also notice that he’s still hard. His eyes are fixed on the ceiling, dead set on not looking at you and having to confront that he really, really does still need you.

So you force yourself to sit up, placing a hand on his chest for balance. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to relax for your sake but that’s the last thing you want him to do.

You push yourself up and over his waist, perching over his abs and brushing his hair back from his forehead. You press a kiss to his head before sitting up on your knees and reaching down to line his cock up with your entrance.

You plant a hand on his chest as you sink down onto him with a deep breath.

“You’re okay,” he rasps, watching in mesmerization as you start to lift your weight up slowly off of your thighs and sink back down.

“I’m okay,” you confirm, guiding his hands to your hips. The presence of his hands on you feels like reassurance and works wonders to help you pick back up some of your energy.

The pace you latch onto feels good, for both of you, but you realize fairly quickly that you’re not going to be able to go as fast as he needs you to.

His hands slip down from your hips to your upper thighs, helping you bob up and down. It doesn’t take long for this to give way to him grabbing your hips and moving you entirely himself.

You watch his arm muscles flex as he shifts you around, leaving you awed with the way he shows virtually no struggle while shifting the majority of your body weight up and down over and over again. Just being completely manhandled by him has you letting out an involuntary moan, letting your head fall back.

“There you go, there you go,” he coos, motions without cessation.

He has you riding him faster than you ever have before and it becomes overwhelming quickly. But Jason, ever the caretaker, coaches you through it, encouraging your every movement.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, watching the way your breasts bounce. “Perfect fucking thing.”

The acclaim in his voice makes your eyes shut and your diaphragm shake, all while he continues to fuck you senseless. 

Your body stutters above him, hands flying onto his for support. He comes only moments later, seemingly the only thing that could break his concentration for ragdolling you. The following release of your hips has you slumping over onto his chest, face laying in the bend of his neck.

He turns his head wearily to you, rubbing a hand up your back. “‘R you okay?” he slurs out.

You hum feebly, eyes unable to stay open.

“Can I…?” It takes hearing the words for you to realize that somehow he’s still hard.

You try to nod hard enough that it can be distinguished against the heaviness of your breathing, though you can’t be sure you were successful.

He sighs, “Baby…”

His hangup is immediately clear to you, even through the haze of being post-three orgasms in less than thirty minutes. It takes real, measurable effort to get this singular word through, but you manage.

“Yes,” you breathe out. A ‘yes’ is going to have to work for him because you don’t have a shot at stringing together anymore syllables.

He places a gentle hand on the back of your head, his other landing on your lower back. He slowly starts to fuck you again, this time much softer than before. It’s calm enough that you can settle into the fatigue in your bones and start to feel the exhaustion sweep over your consciousness.

In between kisses laid sweetly upon your neck, He murmurs affections to you the whole time, though you lose almost all of them to sleep. He moves you around a bit more as he goes, though careful to be gentle enough that he doesn’t disturb your peace anymore than he has to.

By the time he’s done he’s bordering on completely out of it and can’t do anything but collapse atop you, nuzzling into your neck.

There’s a pretty consistent pattern that can be found when helping him deal with post-patrol aftermath. Scarecrow’s never any good, his pop-ups tend to end in winding Jason down from panic. There’s always injuries after Bane and invariably there’ll be a mess from Clayface. Half the time he has to get an entirely new suit after a run-in with Killer Croc. So as far as Gotham’s problems go, Poison Ivy isn’t the worst. 

the morning after epilogue

✨ oh you don’t reblog? that’s…no, that’s totally fine for you! im so happy for you…i mean its just been out of fashion for like three seasons but yeah, that shows a lot of…confidence! ✨

[natcordeaux]

Backyard - Gravel Photo of a large traditional full sun backyard gravel formal garden in spring.

[fyeahlsy]

Mediterranean Landscape Inspiration for a sizable brick water fountain in a Mediterranean backyard setting.

[galaktikmermaidcosplay]

Fountain Patio Santa Barbara An illustration of a fountain made of Tuscan bricks without a cover

[factcheckingthefords]

Landscape in Santa Barbara Inspiration for a large mediterranean backyard brick water fountain landscape.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

My Boss's Son

Y/N, an assistant to Anne Twist, forms an unexpected connection with her son, Harry, when he comes home for the holidays.

Word Count: 9,464

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol, kissing.

Mostly fluff.

Part one of two.

The light filtered through the blinds, casting faint stripes of gold across the room. I blinked against the brightness, my eyes slowly adjusting as I stretched my arms out, feeling the tension in my muscles ease. A deep yawn escaped me, filling the quiet morning air. The world outside seemed to hum faintly, the distant chirping of birds blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

I sat up, letting the covers slide off my shoulders. The room was still, yet alive with the promise of a new day. The faint aroma of coffee from the kitchen teased my senses, nudging me toward the day ahead. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I let my toes press against the cool floor, a gentle reminder that today was mine to shape.

As I stood, a faint shadow danced across the wall—a tree branch swaying outside the window. Something about the movement caught my attention, a quiet insistence that the day held more than routine.

After finishing my coffee, I carried the empty mug to the sink, rinsing it absentmindedly as my thoughts drifted to the day ahead. The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, filling the space with a soft, golden glow. I grabbed my phone from the counter and headed upstairs, each step creaking faintly underfoot.

Back in my room, I opened the closet door, revealing a neatly arranged array of clothes. My fingers brushed over the hangers as I flipped through the options—crisp blouses, tailored trousers, and a few statement pieces that Anne had complimented in the past. Getting dressed in the morning was never a struggle. My wardrobe was curated with care, blending professionalism with a touch of personality and casualness, just as my job required.

Working as a personal assistant to Anne Twist, a celebrated children's author based in the UK and mother to global superstar Harry Styles, came with its own unique blend of charm and challenge. Anne’s world was a whirlwind of creative projects, book signings, and interviews, and I was the one ensuring every detail went off without a hitch. It wasn’t just about organizing her calendar or prepping her notes—it was about anticipating her needs, often before she voiced them.

I finally settled on a simple navy blue dress with a subtle floral pattern, pairing it with a cardigan and comfortable flats. Anne had a penchant for warm, approachable styles herself, and I liked to reflect that in my own appearance. As I slipped on the outfit, I glanced at the framed photo on my dresser—a candid shot of Anne and me at a book launch, her arm draped over my shoulder, both of us laughing.

Today’s agenda was packed. A meeting with Anne's publisher, a conference call with a charity she supported, and later, a brainstorming session for her next book.I grabbed my bag and took one last look in the mirror. Polished yet approachable—that was the goal. Taking a deep breath, I smiled to myself.

The drive to Anne’s house was peaceful, the winding country roads lined with lush greenery and dappled sunlight. I rolled the window down just enough to let the cool morning air fill the car, carrying with it the faint scent of flowers and freshly cut grass. Anne’s home always felt like a retreat from the bustling world—a charming cottage with ivy climbing the walls and a garden that looked like it had been plucked straight from a fairytale.

As I pulled into the driveway, Anne was already at the door, her warm smile radiating the same comforting energy as her home. She waved enthusiastically, her auburn hair catching the sunlight.

“Y/N!” she called out, stepping onto the porch. “You’re right on time, as always. Come in, come in! I’ve just put the kettle on.”

I climbed out of the car, grabbing my bag from the passenger seat. “Morning, Anne!” I replied, smiling as I approached. Her energy was infectious, and it was impossible not to feel instantly at ease in her presence.

Anne pulled me into a quick hug as I reached the door. “It’s so good to see you. I hope the drive wasn’t too long. You know how these roads can be,” she said, ushering me inside.

The familiar scent of lavender and lemon greeted me as I stepped into the house. The kitchen table was already covered in papers—manuscript drafts, notes, and a plate of freshly baked scones. Anne was nothing if not prepared.

“I’ve got a lot to go over with you today,” she said, her tone cheerful but purposeful. “But first, tea. You can’t work properly without tea.”

I laughed, setting my bag down on a chair. “You know me too well, Anne. What’s on the agenda today?”

She poured steaming tea into two mismatched mugs, handing one to me. “Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a wink. “We’ve got that call with the publisher at ten, and later I want to brainstorm ideas for the next book. Oh, and Harry might pop by later—he said he had something he wanted to drop off.”

I raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of the tea. “Harry’s stopping by? Should I be preparing for something out of the ordinary?”

Anne laughed, her eyes twinkling. “You never know with him, do you? But for now, let’s get through these notes. Come on, take a seat.”

I settled into the chair opposite her, notebook in hand, ready to dive into the day’s work.

As Anne and I worked through her notes, my mind kept drifting back to what she had said earlier. Harry might pop by. I hadn’t met him yet—despite working with Anne for nearly a year now. He was always away, either on tour or traveling, and our paths had never crossed. But today might change that.

“Anne,” I said hesitantly, setting down my pen, “so… about Harry. I guess I’m a little nervous to meet him.”

Anne looked up from her notes, her expression warm and understanding. “Nervous? Oh, Y/N, you’ve nothing to be nervous about! He’s a sweetheart. Truly.”

“I’m sure he is,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “But, I mean, he’s Harry Styles. He’s this global superstar, and I’m just… me. What if I say something awkward? Or trip over my words?”

Anne chuckled, setting her glasses on the table and leaning back in her chair. “Y/N, you have nothing to worry about. Harry’s as down-to-earth as they come. He’s more likely to be the one tripping over his words than you are.”

Her reassurance made me smile, but there was something in her tone—something playful—that piqued my curiosity. Before I could dwell on it, Anne leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Actually,” she said, a little more thoughtfully, “I think it’s good you two are finally meeting. I’ve always thought you and Harry would get along wonderfully.”

I raised an eyebrow, my cheeks warming slightly. “You do?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, nodding with certainty. “You both have such similar energies—kind, thoughtful, creative. And you both love to laugh. I can already picture the two of you chatting away like old friends.”

I laughed nervously, unsure how to respond. “Well, I guess we’ll see. No pressure, right?”

Anne smiled knowingly, taking a sip of her tea. “No pressure at all, my dear. But sometimes, the best connections happen when you least expect them.”

Her words lingered in the air as we returned to our work, but my mind couldn’t help wandering. 

The day passed in a flurry of productivity. Anne and I tackled everything on the agenda—the publisher’s call went smoothly, the brainstorming session brought to life some fantastic ideas for her next book, and even the smallest tasks seemed to fall perfectly into place. By late afternoon, the papers on the kitchen table were neatly stacked, the mugs washed, and the scones just a crumb-filled memory.

As I started gathering my things to leave, Anne stopped me, her warm smile ever-present. “Y/N, don’t rush off just yet.”

I glanced at her, surprised. “Oh, I thought we were done for the day?”

“We are,” she said, placing a hand on my shoulder, her tone gentle and inviting. “But Harry should be here soon, and I think it would be lovely if you stayed for dinner. I’ve already got everything prepped, and I promise it’s nothing fancy—just a good, home-cooked meal. Besides, you’ve worked so hard today, and I’d love the company.”

I hesitated, glancing at the time. “Are you sure, Anne? I don’t want to intrude.”

Anne shook her head firmly, her expression softening in a way that reminded me of my own mother. “Y/N, you’re not intruding. You’re family—more than just an assistant to me. I don’t say that lightly.” She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Now, stay. Let me spoil you a little.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I felt a lump rise in my throat. Anne had always treated me with such kindness, but hearing her say it so plainly made me feel truly appreciated. “Okay,” I said, smiling. “I’d love to stay.”

“Good,” Anne said, beaming. “You can help me set the table. And don’t worry, you’ll love Harry. He’s just like me, only taller and a bit scruffier.”

I laughed, the nervous flutter in my stomach returning. The idea of meeting Harry still felt slightly surreal, but Anne’s confidence that we’d get along eased my nerves—at least a little.

Together, we walked back to the house, chatting about everything from her garden to potential titles for her next book. Anne’s warmth and humor made the transition from work mode to relaxation seamless, and by the time we reached the cottage, I was already feeling at home.

As we stepped inside, Anne gestured toward the dining table. “You start on the plates, and I’ll grab the drinks. Harry should be here any minute now.”

I nodded, moving to set the table as instructed, but I couldn’t help the little flicker of excitement—and anxiety—that danced in my chest. 

Moments later, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house, followed by a familiar voice calling out.

“Mum? I’m here!” Harry’s voice carried easily, warm and slightly teasing.

Anne, busy at the counter pouring drinks, shouted back, “In the kitchen, love!”

I froze mid-step, clutching a plate in my hands. My pulse quickened as the reality of meeting Harry—Anne’s son and global superstar—hit me square in the chest. A part of me wanted to disappear into the background, but before I could even think to move, the sound of footsteps approached.

Then, there he was. Harry walked into the kitchen, his casual stride and easy grin instantly lighting up the room. He was dressed simply—jeans, a T-shirt, and a beanie pulled snugly over his brown curls—but his presence was anything but ordinary. His green eyes scanned the room before landing on me.

He stopped, his smile widening with playful confusion. “Well, you’re definitely not my mum.”

I blinked, caught off guard, before laughing nervously. “No, no, definitely not.”

Anne turned from the counter, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Y/N, meet my son, Harry. Harry, this is Y/N—my assistant, though I prefer to call her my second daughter.”

Harry’s expression softened, and he stepped forward, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Mum’s told me loads about you.”

I set the plate down carefully before shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you too. She’s told me a lot about you as well.”

He raised an eyebrow, a glint of humor in his eyes. “All good things, I hope?”

“Of course,” I replied, feeling my nerves ease slightly under the weight of his charm. “She’s very proud of you.”

Harry shot Anne a look, his smile turning fond. “She’s not bad herself, is she?” Turning back to me, he added, “So, you’re the one keeping her so organized. Must be a full-time job.”

“It is,” I said with a small laugh. “But I love it.”

Anne interjected, carrying the drinks to the table. “All right, enough chatter. Harry, help Y/N finish setting the table. And no teasing—you’ll scare her off.”

Harry chuckled, grabbing a stack of silverware. “Scare her off? I’m charming, Mum.”

Anne gave him a knowing look but didn’t argue. As Harry handed me the silverware, his smile was soft, his teasing replaced by genuine warmth.

“Don’t let her boss you around too much,” he joked quietly, leaning in just enough for only me to hear. “But I’ll warn you, she’s usually right.”

As we worked together to set the table, Harry struck up a conversation, his natural curiosity evident in the way he asked questions.

“So, Y/N,” he began, placing the silverware neatly beside the plates, “Mum says you’ve been working with her for about a year now. But I’m curious—how’d you end up here? Not many people just casually relocate to the middle of England.”

I smiled, stacking the napkins as I spoke. “Well, I’m originally from New York, but I came to England a few years ago to study abroad. It was supposed to be temporary, but I ended up falling in love with the country. Anne and I met while I was finishing up my studies, and things just kind of fell into place.”

“New York to England, huh?” he said, his tone thoughtful. “That’s quite a leap. What made you want to stay? Was it the tea, the rain, or Mum’s scones?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Definitely not the rain. But honestly, I think it was the pace of life here. It’s different from New York—slower, in a good way. Plus, I felt like I’d found a second home when I started working with Anne. She’s been amazing.”

Harry glanced over at his mum, who was busy fiddling with the oven, her back turned to us. His expression softened. “Yeah, she has a way of making people feel that way, doesn’t she?”

“She really does,” I agreed, my voice warm. “She’s been more than a boss to me—more like family.”

Harry smiled, leaning casually against the edge of the table. “That sounds like her. She’s always taking people under her wing. So, what were you studying before you decided to make the big move?”

“English literature,” I said, straightening one of the forks. “I’ve always loved books and writing, so it just felt like the right path. Meeting Anne was kind of serendipitous. She needed an assistant around the same time I was trying to figure out what to do next, and the rest is history.”

Harry nodded, his interest clearly genuine. “That’s brilliant. Sounds like it was meant to be. And now you’re here, working with Mum, dealing with her endless sticky notes and brainstorm sessions. She ever drag you out to the garden for ‘creative inspiration’?”

I chuckled, nodding. “Oh, plenty of times. But I don’t mind—it’s always an adventure with her.”

Harry’s grin widened. “I can imagine. And do you still write yourself, or is it all Mum’s projects now?”

The question caught me off guard, and I hesitated for a moment. “I try to write when I can, but it’s mostly little things—nothing serious.”

“Well,” he said, his tone encouraging, “maybe one day I’ll get to read something of yours. If Mum’s spoken this highly of you, I bet it’s brilliant.”

His compliment made my cheeks flush slightly, but I managed a smile. “Maybe. But for now, I’m happy helping her bring her stories to life.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Fair enough. But don’t forget about your own stories, yeah? Something tells me they’re worth sharing.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, but before I could respond, Anne interrupted, calling us to the table.

“All right, you two, enough chatter! Dinner’s ready. Harry, stop hogging Y/N’s attention and help me bring the dishes out.”

Harry smirked but obeyed, shooting me a quick wink as he moved to help his mum. “Guess that’s my cue,” he said, grabbing the serving tray. “But I’m not done with my questions, Y/N. Consider this round one.”

I laughed softly, feeling a strange mix of nerves and excitement as I took my seat at the table. Round one, huh? This evening was shaping up to be much more interesting than I’d anticipated.

As Harry walked toward the kitchen to help his mom, I began fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of me, still processing our earlier conversation. His natural charm and easygoing nature made him surprisingly approachable, and yet I couldn’t shake the nervous flutter in my stomach.

I was just settling into my seat when I heard his voice drift from the kitchen. It wasn’t loud, but the playful tone caught my attention.

“Mum,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for me to overhear, “you forgot to mention how pretty she is.”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. My heart began to race as I tried to process what I’d just heard. Was he talking about me? It was hard to mistake the sincerity in his tone, even laced as it was with a hint of teasing.

Anne chuckled in response, her reply warm but matter-of-fact. “I didn’t think I needed to, love. I figured you’d see that for yourself.”

The sound of clinking dishes followed, but I couldn’t focus on anything else. My cheeks grew hot as I stared at the table, trying to act like I hadn’t heard a word.

What did that even mean? Was he just being nice? Or was there something more to his comment? The idea made my chest tighten, equal parts flattered and overwhelmed.

Moments later, Harry and Anne returned to the dining room, each carrying a dish. His expression was as casual and easy as ever, as if he hadn’t just said something that was now on a loop in my head. He caught my gaze briefly as he set down a bowl of roasted vegetables, flashing me a small, almost knowing smile before turning back to his mom.

“Right, all set?” Anne asked cheerfully, glancing between the two of us as she placed the final dish on the table. “Let’s dig in!”

I forced myself to smile, hoping it didn’t look too forced. “Smells amazing, Anne. Thank you.”

As dinner began, Harry struck up conversation again, his questions lighthearted and easy, but I couldn’t help noticing the occasional glance he sent my way. Maybe it was nothing—or maybe Anne had been right all along. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: this evening was turning out to be far more eventful than I had expected.

After everyone had eaten their fill and the plates were cleared, I stood to help Anne gather the dishes, but she waved me off with a smile.

“Sit and relax, Y/N. You’ve done enough today,” she said warmly. “But if Harry’s volunteering, I won’t say no to an extra pair of hands.”

“I’ll help too,” I insisted, ignoring her gentle protest as I followed Harry to the kitchen with a stack of plates.

Harry grabbed a dish towel, tossing it over his shoulder as he started rinsing the dishes. He glanced at me with a grin. “Looks like it’s just us now. I’ll try not to scare you off with my terrible washing-up skills.”

I laughed, rolling up my sleeves. “Don’t worry—I’m no professional either.”

As we worked side by side, the atmosphere felt lighter, more relaxed. Harry, ever curious, turned to me with a playful tilt of his head. “So, Y/N, I feel like I barely scratched the surface earlier. Let’s dig a little deeper. Do you have any pets?”

I smiled, handing him a clean plate to dry. “No pets, unfortunately. Growing up in New York, we didn’t really have the space for them. But I’ve always wanted a dog. What about you?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Mum’s got a cat—Dusty. Though I think she likes Dusty more than me most days.”

I laughed at his self-deprecating humor. “I doubt that. Anne talks about you like you’re her pride and joy.”

“Good to know I’m still in her good books,” he teased, then shifted gears. “Okay, next question. Favorite movie?”

I bit my lip, thinking it over. “That’s a tough one. Probably Pride and Prejudice—the Keira Knightley version. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and it still makes me swoon. What about you?”

Harry pretended to look thoughtful. “Hmm, Pride and Prejudice is solid, but I might have to go with The Notebook. Classic romantic drama.”

I raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re full of surprises.”

“Am I?” he said with a playful wink, taking another dish from my hands. “Okay, next one: Favorite bar in London?”

“That’s easy,” I said, sliding another plate toward him. “The Churchill Arms. It’s so cozy and covered in flowers—it’s like stepping into a storybook. What about you?”

“Great choice,” he said, nodding approvingly. “For me, it’s The Spaniards Inn. Proper old-school vibe and great music.”

“I’ll have to check it out sometime,” I said, filing the recommendation away.

He paused, glancing over at me with a curious glint in his eye. “I could show you, if you’re up for it. You know, give you the full Harry Styles bar tour.”

The suggestion caught me off guard, but his smile was so genuine, it was impossible not to mirror it. “Maybe,” I said, trying to sound casual despite the warmth spreading in my chest. “If I can keep up.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage,” he replied, his voice light and teasing as he placed the last clean plate on the rack. “But don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. I’ve got plenty more questions.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Something tells me you’re not going to run out anytime soon.”

“Not a chance,” he said, his smile widening as he grabbed the dish towel to dry his hands. “You’re far too interesting for that.”

As the evening wound down, the cozy energy of Anne’s home lingered in the air. Harry leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, chatting with his mom while I finished drying the last of the dishes. His laugh filled the kitchen, warm and effortless, and I couldn’t help but glance his way more often than necessary.

But soon, it was time to leave. Harry had to fly out the next morning to start recording for his next project, and I knew my days ahead would be busy helping Anne finalize the manuscript for her latest book. It felt bittersweet—our paths had just crossed, and yet, they were already diverging.

As I grabbed my coat from the hook near the door, Harry walked over, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So,” he began, his voice casual but his eyes searching mine, “looks like it’ll be a bit before we see each other again.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Yeah, sounds like you’ll be busy.”

“Same for you,” he said, tilting his head. “Mum keeps you running around, doesn’t she?”

I chuckled. “She does, but I don’t mind. She’s worth it.”

Harry’s smile turned a little softer at that. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Well, seeing as I’m about to disappear for a while, how about we exchange numbers? Just in case Mum ‘accidentally’ forgets to pass along messages.”

The suggestion caught me off guard, but I quickly recovered, pulling out my phone. “Sure,” I said, feeling a flutter of nerves as we traded numbers. His fingers brushed mine briefly as he handed my phone back, and I wondered if he felt the same quiet spark.

“Now you’ve got no excuse not to check out The Spaniards Inn,” he joked, his voice light but his eyes holding something a little more serious.

“Guess I don’t,” I said, smiling.

Anne appeared then, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “All right, you two, no plotting mischief without me,” she teased. “Harry, don’t keep Y/N standing here all night—she’s got work in the morning.”

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. “All right, all right. I’ll let her go. For now.”

We said our goodbyes, and as I walked out to my car, I couldn’t help but glance back. Harry stood in the doorway with Anne, waving, his easy smile still lingering even as I pulled away.

Weeks turned into months, and the holiday season crept closer. Between Anne’s projects and the quiet hum of my own life, I found myself thinking of Harry more than I cared to admit. We’d exchanged a few texts here and there—mostly casual check-ins or jokes—but nothing too deep. Still, every time my phone lit up with his name, it brought a smile to my face.

Then came Anne’s annual Christmas party. The cottage was aglow with warm lights, garlands, and a massive tree Anne had insisted on decorating herself. Guests milled about with glasses of mulled wine, laughter and conversation filling every corner.

I was in the kitchen, helping Anne plate some hors d'oeuvres, when a familiar voice made my heart skip.

“Surprise,” Harry said, leaning casually against the doorway, his signature grin firmly in place.

I turned, my breath catching slightly. He looked effortlessly stylish, dressed in a festive green sweater and black trousers, his hair tousled as though he hadn’t tried at all. “Harry,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, stepping further into the kitchen. “But I couldn’t miss Mum’s party—or the chance to see you again.”

Anne smirked knowingly, handing me the last platter before excusing herself with a suspiciously cheerful “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

I rolled my eyes at her retreating figure but couldn’t suppress the warmth spreading through me. “So,” I said, turning back to Harry, “how’s recording going?”

“It’s good,” he said, his voice softening. “Busy, but good. Though I’ll admit, I’ve been looking forward to this party for weeks.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Because of the mulled wine?”

He grinned, his eyes meeting mine. “Something like that. But mostly because I knew you’d be here.”

The sincerity in his tone made my heart flip. I wasn’t sure what to say, but before I could respond, he gestured toward the door. “Shall we? I think Mum would kill me if I didn’t mingle.”

The party buzzed around us, but Harry and I had found a quieter corner of the living room, where the lights from the Christmas tree cast a soft glow. He handed me a glass of red wine, his fingers brushing mine briefly, and leaned casually against the wall beside me.

“So,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass, “tell me—what’s been the highlight of your year? And if you say one of Mum’s scone-baking experiments, I’ll know you’re lying.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Well, those have been a journey, but I think meeting her in the first place takes the top spot. It’s been a whirlwind, but a good one.”

He smiled, his gaze warm. “That’s a solid choice. I’d say meeting you is up there on my list too.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the subtle sincerity in his voice, but before I could respond, Gemma’s voice rang out across the room.

“Oi, Harry!” she called, her tone dripping with playful mischief. “Do you two know you’re standing under the mistletoe?”

My eyes shot upward instinctively, and sure enough, the little sprig of green was hanging above us, tied neatly with a red ribbon. My cheeks flushed as laughter rippled through the room. I turned back to Harry, who had the audacity to look completely shocked.

“Mistletoe?” he said, feigning innocence as his eyes darted upward. “Would you look at that? What a coincidence.”

I narrowed my eyes, catching the faintest flicker of amusement in his expression. “Coincidence, huh?” I asked, my tone skeptical.

Gemma smirked from across the room. “Well, rules are rules!”

The guests around us were clearly entertained, their chatter fading into encouraging murmurs. Harry turned back to me, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear.

“Guess we’ve got to follow tradition,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze steady. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint everyone.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my heart pounding as he leaned closer. His lips brushed mine softly, the warmth of the moment washing over me despite the playful shouts and applause in the background. It was sweet, unhurried, and—dare I say—perfect.

When he pulled back, his grin was back in full force, but there was a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Merry Christmas,” I managed, my cheeks still flushed as the room erupted in laughter and cheers. Gemma gave us a knowing look, and Anne, from the kitchen, was clearly trying not to look too pleased with herself.

As the night went on, the party blurred into a haze of warmth and laughter, but that moment under the mistletoe stayed crystal clear in my mind. 

The party continued, the festive atmosphere filling every corner of Anne’s home, but I couldn’t shake the giddy feeling in my chest. Every so often, I’d catch Harry glancing my way, and each time, his warm smile made my heart skip a beat. It felt as if the mistletoe moment had shifted something between us—something unspoken but undeniably present.

After the laughter and teasing died down, Harry and I found ourselves back in the cozy corner of the living room, wine glasses in hand. This time, the conversation felt lighter, more natural, as if the small barrier of formality had finally fallen away.

“So,” I teased, swirling my glass, “did you actually plan that mistletoe stunt, or was it pure luck?”

Harry smirked, not even bothering to deny it. “What can I say? I might have noticed where Mum hung it earlier and thought it’d be a good spot to stand. But in my defense,” he added, leaning in slightly, “I wasn’t sure you’d go along with it.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he said with a wink, his grin softening as he studied me. “But honestly, I’m glad it happened. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you.”

His words caught me off guard, and I found myself searching his expression for any sign of teasing, but there was none—just quiet sincerity. “You have?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

“Of course,” he said, his tone genuine. “You’re… well, you’re amazing. Mum’s always going on about how much she adores you, and honestly, I get it. You’ve got this way about you—calm, funny, kind. It’s refreshing.”

I felt my cheeks heat under his gaze, unsure of how to respond. “Harry, that’s… really sweet of you to say.”

He shrugged, his smile turning a little sheepish. “Just being honest. And, well, I guess I should probably thank Mum for hiring you and convincing you to stay in England.”

I laughed softly, the nerves I’d felt earlier slowly fading. “She is very persuasive.”

“Isn’t she?” he said, laughing along. “So, what about you? Are you glad you stayed?”

I took a moment to think about his question, the warmth of the room and the sound of soft music in the background making the moment feel surreal. “I am,” I said finally, meeting his eyes. “I’ve built a life here I never expected, and it’s been… wonderful.”

Harry’s gaze softened, his smile easy but full of something deeper. “I’m glad to hear that. And, for what it’s worth, I hope I can be part of what makes it even better.”

Before I could respond, Anne appeared, beaming as she handed us a tray of leftover mince pies. “You two look cozy,” she said with a knowing smile, clearly pleased with herself. “Don’t let me interrupt, but someone has to make sure these don’t go uneaten.”

“Thanks, Mum,” Harry said, chuckling as he took the tray. As Anne walked away, he turned back to me, his smile lingering. “What do you say? Mince pie and more conversation?”

I nodded, feeling my heart flutter again. “I’d like that.”

And as the night wore on, surrounded by laughter and the glow of Christmas lights, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something special.

Guests filtered out one by one, their laughter and goodbyes echoing softly through Anne’s cozy home. I slipped into the hallway to grab my coat, the frosty chill of the night visible through the windows. Snow was falling in gentle flurries, blanketing the ground in a soft, sparkling white.

“Thanks for everything, Anne,” I said, hugging her tightly. “The party was wonderful, as always.”

Anne smiled, her arms warm and motherly around me. “It’s not the same without you, my dear. Stay safe getting home, all right?”

“I will,” I promised. “I’ll call an Uber.”

Before I could pull out my phone, Harry appeared, shrugging on his own coat. “Don’t bother with an Uber,” he said, his voice casual but insistent. “I’ll drive you.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s late, and it’s snowing—”

“All the more reason not to let you sit around waiting for a car,” he cut in, flashing me that easy smile. “Come on. Let me play chauffeur.”

Anne smirked knowingly from the doorway, but she said nothing, simply waving us off with a cheerful “Drive safe, you two!”

The snowflakes danced in the headlights as we drove through the quiet streets. The world outside felt still, the kind of calm that only came with late winter nights. Harry hummed softly along to the radio, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

“So,” he said after a moment, glancing over at me, “did you have fun tonight?”

“I did,” I admitted, smiling. “Your mum really knows how to throw a party.”

“She does,” he agreed, grinning. “But I think the mistletoe was her favorite part.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m sure it was.”

We fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. Then, as we turned a corner, Harry suddenly slowed the car, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

“That’s it,” he said, pointing to a warmly lit building just ahead. “That’s the bar I told you about—the one I wanted to take you to.”

I followed his gaze, taking in the charming old-fashioned pub with its twinkling lights and ivy-covered sign. “It looks amazing.”

“Good,” he said, shifting the car into park. “Because we’re making a pit stop.”

I blinked in surprise. “What? Now?”

“Now,” he said firmly, already unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned to me with a playful grin. “Come on. You’re not getting out of this one.”

Before I could protest, he was out of the car, circling around to my side to open the door. The cold air rushed in, but his outstretched hand and infectious enthusiasm warmed me more than my coat ever could. Smiling, I took his hand, letting him help me out of the car.

The snow crunched softly beneath our feet as Harry led me to the pub’s entrance. The wooden door creaked open, revealing a cozy interior filled with warm lighting, laughter, and the soft hum of music. He held the door for me, his eyes sparkling as he followed me inside.

“This,” he said as we found a quiet corner table, “is one of my favorite spots in the city. Figured it was about time I shared it with you.”

I smiled, taking in the quaint charm of the bar. “I’m glad you did.”

Harry leaned back, his grin softening as he looked at me. “So am I. Now, what are we drinking?”

I glanced at the menu briefly before setting it down with a grin. “I’ll start with a shot of Fireball,” I said, glancing at Harry for his reaction.

He raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Straight to Fireball, huh? You’re full of surprises.”

“What can I say? It’s festive,” I replied with a shrug. “What about you?”

“I’ll take a whiskey neat,” he said, flagging down the bartender.

As our drinks arrived, I picked up the small glass, holding it up in a toast. “To impromptu pit stops and good company.”

Harry clinked his glass against mine, his smile warm. “To that.”

I knocked back the shot, the cinnamon burn spreading warmly through my chest. Harry watched, clearly amused, before sipping his own drink. The atmosphere in the bar was cozy and alive, the soft murmur of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter adding to the charm.

After a few moments of quiet, Harry set his glass down, his fingers fidgeting with the rim. “Y/N,” he began, his tone more serious now, “I owe you an apology.”

I tilted my head, surprised. “For what?”

“For not texting much while I was recording,” he said, meeting my gaze. “It wasn’t because I didn’t want to. Quite the opposite, actually.”

I stayed silent, giving him space to continue.

“It’s just… I felt drawn to you, and I didn’t know how to handle it,” he admitted, his voice softer. “I didn’t want to make things harder for either of us if I couldn’t be around, or if our schedules didn’t line up. It felt unfair to pull you into something when I couldn’t guarantee how often we’d see each other.”

His honesty caught me off guard, but in the best way. I leaned forward slightly, my elbows resting on the table. “Harry, I get it. You’ve got a lot on your plate, and it’s not like I expect constant texts or updates. But… I appreciate you telling me that.”

He let out a small breath, his shoulders relaxing. “I just didn’t want you to think I wasn’t interested. Because I am. Very much.”

My cheeks warmed, and I took another sip of my drink to buy myself a moment. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought about you too. A lot.”

His smile returned, soft and genuine, as he leaned forward. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing softly. “I just didn’t know if it was mutual or if I was imagining things.”

“You weren’t,” he said, his voice steady. “Not even for a second.”

The weight of his words settled between us, the unspoken feelings finally taking shape. The noise of the bar faded into the background as we held each other’s gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

“Good,” I said finally, breaking the silence with a small smile. “Because I’m not imagining this either—this pit stop? Definitely worth it.”

He chuckled, raising his glass to me again. “Here’s to more pit stops, then.”

I clinked my glass against his, the warmth of the moment spreading through me.

Harry waved down the bartender and ordered himself one more drink, a smile playing on his lips as he looked over at me. “You go ahead, though—order another if you want. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

His words, coupled with the warmth in his voice, made me feel completely at ease. I grinned, raising my hand to flag the bartender. “All right, two more for me, then.”

As we chatted and finished our drinks, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Harry’s wit and charm kept me laughing, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so at ease with someone. When the bartender cleared away the empty glasses, Harry glanced at me with a teasing grin.

“Ready to call it a night, or do you want to take over the jukebox and turn this into a dance party?” he joked.

I laughed, shaking my head. “As tempting as that is, I think I’m ready to head home.”

He stood, offering his hand to help me up. “Then let’s get you back.”

The snow had lightened as we drove through the quiet streets, but it still sparkled in the streetlights, blanketing everything in a serene white glow. I leaned back in my seat, the warmth of the car lulling me into a calm state as I watched Harry. He looked focused yet relaxed, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested casually on his lap.

After a moment, as if sensing my gaze, he reached over and placed a hand on my thigh. The gesture was simple, but it sent a warm jolt through me, grounding me in the moment. His touch was light, reassuring, and yet it carried a weight that made my heart race.

I looked at him, smiling softly. “You know, you’re really beautiful.”

He turned to glance at me briefly, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Beautiful, huh? Don’t let the lads hear you say that—they’ll never let me live it down.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m serious. You are. Inside and out.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against my leg in an almost absentminded motion. “Thanks, love. But you should know—it’s not every day I get called ‘beautiful.’ Pretty, maybe. Gorgeous, occasionally. But beautiful? That’s new.”

I laughed again, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, you should hear it more often.”

He glanced at me again, his eyes soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite place. “I think I like hearing it from you the most.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds the hum of the engine and the faint crackle of snow beneath the tires. I found myself wishing the drive could stretch on forever, the intimacy of the moment something I didn’t want to let go of. 

When Harry pulled the car into the small lot outside my flat, he turned off the engine and stepped out, circling around to open my door before I could even reach for the handle. His gentlemanly gesture brought a small smile to my lips as I stepped out, the cold night air brushing against my cheeks.

“I’ll walk you up,” he said, his voice low and warm.

“You really don’t have to,” I started, but he shook his head, giving me a pointed look.

“Not up for debate,” he said, his grin softening any potential protest. “Come on.”

We walked together toward the building, the snow crunching softly beneath our feet. The tipsy warmth in my chest made everything feel slightly dreamlike—the glow of the streetlights, the way Harry’s shoulder brushed against mine, the sound of his laugh when I nearly slipped on a patch of ice but caught myself.

When we reached my door, I turned to thank him, but he stepped closer, his expression both amused and fond. “You’ve got a little something,” he said, reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, his touch soft and deliberate.

The simple gesture made my heart flutter, and he noticed. His grin turned playful. “Still feeling a little tipsy, are we?”

“A little,” I admitted with a laugh, leaning back against the door for balance. “But I’m good. Thanks for making sure I got home.”

“Well, someone had to,” he teased, his voice light but his gaze steady. Then, after a pause, his tone softened. “I’m really glad we did this tonight.”

“Me too,” I said, my voice quieter now.

Harry stepped just a fraction closer, his hands resting lightly in his pockets. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping a little lower, “I’ve been thinking about that kiss earlier. I’d really like to kiss you again.”

His words sent a thrill through me, and without even stopping to think, I reached for his jacket, pulling him toward me. His hands instinctively found my waist, steadying me as I leaned up and pressed my lips to his.

This kiss wasn’t like the one under the mistletoe—this one was deeper, more purposeful. His lips moved with mine, warm and unhurried, and for a moment, everything else faded away. The cold air, the snow, the late hour—none of it mattered.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested lightly against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmured, his voice laced with both amusement and something deeper.

I smiled, my cheeks flushed from more than just the cold. “Goodnight, Harry,” I whispered, unlocking my door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replied, his tone soft and lingering.

When I woke up the next morning, the soft light of a snowy winter day filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. My head felt light—not from drinking too much, but from the events of the night before. As I stretched and reached for my phone on the bedside table, a small smile spread across my face when I saw a text from Harry.

Harry: Morning, love. What are you doing for Christmas? Are you seeing your family?

I stared at the screen for a moment, my chest tightening slightly. My family was back in the States, and with everything going on, traveling wasn’t an option this year. I had already come to terms with spending Christmas alone. It wasn’t ideal, but it was fine—I’d planned a quiet day at home.

I typed out a response, my fingers hesitating briefly before hitting send.

Y/N: Good morning ☺️ No big plans—just staying home this year. My family’s in America, so it’ll be a solo Christmas. But I don’t mind.

Setting the phone down, I shuffled out of bed to start my morning routine. By the time I returned, Harry had replied.

Harry: Home alone? That doesn’t sit right with me. Come to ours—Mum would love to have you, and so would I.

The offer tugged at something in me, his kindness shining through even in a text. But as much as the idea of being surrounded by his family sounded wonderful, I didn’t want to intrude. Christmas was their time to be together, and I didn’t want to take away from that.

Y/N: That’s really sweet of you, but you should spend Christmas with your family. It’s their day with you, and I wouldn’t want to interrupt. I’ll be okay, I promise.

His response came quickly, and I could almost hear the concern in his tone.

Harry: You wouldn’t be interrupting. You’re part of the family now, you know.

I smiled at his words, warmth spreading through me, but I stayed firm in my decision.

Y/N: You’re lovely, but I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though—it means a lot.

Harry: If you’re sure… but I’m still not entirely convinced you’re okay with it.

His care made my chest tighten, but I knew this was the right choice.

Y/N: I promise, I’m okay. Have a wonderful Christmas with your family.

As I set my phone down, I couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, knowing someone cared enough to ask. While Christmas would be quiet this year, the warmth from Harry’s offer lingered, making me feel less alone than I’d expected.

The day passed slowly, but pleasantly. I spent the morning baking cookies, letting the warm, sweet scent fill my flat. It was cozy, and for a while, I didn’t mind being alone. After tasting one (or three) cookies to make sure they turned out right, I curled up on the couch for a nap, letting the peaceful quiet of the day lull me to sleep.

When I woke, the snow outside had thickened, blanketing the world in a soft white hush. I made myself a cup of hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket, and put on a Christmas movie, letting the cheerful music and festive scenes brighten my evening.

I was halfway through the film, laughing softly at the antics on screen, when a sudden knock at the door startled me. My brow furrowed in confusion. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and my neighbors rarely stopped by unannounced.

I set down my mug, tightened the blanket around me, and went to the door. When I opened it, my mouth fell open in surprise. There, standing on my snowy doorstep, was Harry, grinning mischievously, a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Merry Christmas, love,” he said, his tone light. “Santa’s here, and he’s traded in the sleigh for a Mini Cooper.”

I blinked, too stunned to respond at first. Finally, I laughed, shaking my head. “Harry, what are you doing here? I thought you were spending the day with your family.”

He shrugged, his grin softening into something warmer. “I was. But it didn’t feel quite right, knowing you were here alone. So, I figured Santa could make one more stop.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I stepped aside to let him in, the cold air rushing in briefly before I closed the door behind him. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I said, smiling.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” he teased, slipping off his coat and placing the bag on the counter. “I brought some things—thought we could make Christmas a little less solo.”

I glanced at the bag, curious. “What’s in there?”

“Just a few essentials,” he said with mock seriousness, pulling out a bottle of wine, a small box wrapped in festive paper, and a Tupperware container. “Cookies from Mum. She insisted.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I watched him. “You really didn’t have to do this, Harry.”

“I know,” he said, meeting my eyes. “But I wanted to.”

The sincerity in his voice made my chest tighten, and I felt a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the cookies or the hot chocolate. Christmas, it seemed, had just gotten a whole lot better.

As Harry set the bag down on the counter, he pulled out a small, carefully wrapped box and handed it to me. The paper was simple but elegant, with a festive bow on top, and it made my heart flutter.

“What’s this?” I asked, looking between the gift and him, my brow furrowing in surprise. “Harry, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

He grinned, leaning casually against the counter. “I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. Go on—open it.”

I hesitated for a moment, my fingers brushing over the smooth wrapping paper. With a small smile, I carefully tore it open, revealing a beautiful hardback book with an embossed cover. My breath caught as I realized what it was.

A special edition of The Great Gatsby.

The gilded details on the cover shimmered in the soft light, and the pages had the kind of crispness that only came with a brand-new book. I traced the cover with my fingertips, momentarily speechless.

“You… remembered,” I said softly, looking up at him. “This is incredible, Harry.”

He smiled, his eyes warm and slightly amused. “Of course, I remembered. You told me it was your favorite. Plus, you lit up when you talked about it that night at Mum’s party. I figured it might be something you’d like.”

“Like?” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. “I love it. This is… it’s perfect.”

Harry shrugged, though the grin on his face told me he was pleased. “Good. I wasn’t sure if you already had this edition, but I figured even if you did, a backup wouldn’t hurt.”

I hugged the book to my chest, still marveling at the thoughtfulness behind the gift. “Thank you, Harry. Really. This means so much.”

He stepped closer, his expression softening. “You’re welcome, love. Merry Christmas.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the cozy warmth of the room and the quiet snowfall outside wrapping around us like a blanket. I couldn’t help but feel that, somehow, this was exactly where I was meant to be.

I clutched The Great Gatsby to my chest, still basking in the warmth of Harry’s thoughtful gift, but a pang of guilt crept in as I realized I hadn’t gotten him anything in return.

“Harry,” I said, biting my lip. “This is so thoughtful, and I feel terrible—I didn’t get you anything.”

He shook his head, his grin easy and reassuring. “You don’t have to give me anything, Y/N. Seeing you smile like that is enough.”

Still, I wanted to do something for him, no matter how small. My eyes lit up as I remembered the cookies I’d made earlier. “Wait! I do have something.” I rushed over to the kitchen counter, grabbing the plate of freshly baked cookies. “Okay, maybe it’s not as fancy as a special edition book, but these are homemade, and I promise they’re pretty good.”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he took one from the plate. “Homemade cookies? Now, this is a proper Christmas gift.”

He bit into one, his expression immediately shifting into mock seriousness before he let out a low, exaggerated moan. “Oh, my God,” he said around the bite. “Y/N, this is… ridiculous. These are so good.”

I laughed, watching his dramatic reaction. “Are you being serious, or are you just trying to make me feel better?”

He swallowed the bite and held up the cookie like it was a rare treasure. “Dead serious. These are unreal. You’ve been hiding this talent from me? What else are you secretly amazing at?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to stop smiling. “They’re just cookies, Harry.”

“No, no,” he said, grabbing another one. “These aren’t just cookies. These are a masterpiece. Like, I’m calling Mum tomorrow and telling her to step up her game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh again, his infectious humor and over-the-top enthusiasm making the moment feel so much lighter. “Well, I’m glad you like them,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll have to bake more if it means getting this kind of reaction out of you.”

Harry grinned, crumbs on his lips as he reached for yet another cookie. “Deal. But fair warning—I might show up at your door every time I get a craving now.”

“Good,” I said, surprising myself with the ease of my response. “You’re welcome anytime.”

He paused, his grin softening into something more genuine as he looked at me. “I might just take you up on that.”

The way he said it made my chest tighten in the best way, and as we stood there, sharing cookies and laughter, I couldn’t help but think that this Christmas, though unexpected, was quickly becoming one of my favorites.

As we stood there, the room cozy and filled with the faint smell of cookies, my eyes wandered to Harry. His sweater sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, leaving his tattoos exposed, a striking contrast to the softness of the moment. The intricate designs on his arms seemed even more captivating in the warm light of the flat, and I couldn’t help but notice the way they moved slightly as he reached for another cookie.

I felt a wave of warmth rush through me, one that had nothing to do with the heat of the oven still lingering in the air. My gaze flicked to his face, his lips curved into an easy smile as he chewed, oblivious to the way he had completely stolen my attention. Something about him—the way he looked at me, the way he was simply here—felt too perfect to ignore.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward, lightly pressing my lips to his. It was soft, almost tentative, but enough to make my heart race.

Harry froze for just a moment, clearly caught off guard, before he set the cookie down and reached for me, his hands resting gently on my waist. He pulled me closer, deepening the kiss with a passion that made my knees feel weak. His lips moved with mine, slow yet deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second.

When we finally broke apart, I stayed close, my forehead resting lightly against his. His green eyes searched mine, his expression soft but tinged with a flicker of something playful.

“What are your plans for New Year’s?” he asked, his voice low and warm, his breath still mingling with mine.

The question caught me off guard, but I managed a small smile. “Nothing planned yet,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Why?”

He grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against my sides. “Because I think we should make some cookies. Together.”

I felt my heart skip a beat, the thought of spending New Year’s with him lighting up something inside me I hadn’t expected. “I think I’d like that,” I said, my voice steady despite the nervous excitement building in my chest.

His grin softened, turning into something more sincere. “Good. Then it’s settled.”

[pseudowho]

Yet Another Nanami Kento Sex Pollen Fic, Part One

Owing our Reader for pleasuring him after his prior drunk escapades, Kento allows himself to be thoroughly used after the Reader encounters some rather unusual pollen.

Read Part Two HERE!

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Hey, darling. Home soon? I was going to run out and grab some wine."

You smiled warmly at Kento's voice over the phone, brushing your mission clothes off with one hand while you surveyed the wreck of your surroundings. The factory you were in seemed ancient, despite its abandonment in just the last decade. Its back wall, you noted, was formed of collapsed brickwork, opening out onto a patch of hazy woodland. You were curious to investigate.

"Soon," you promised Kento, "the main Curse body is gone. I'm just going to do a last sweep around. You know, I--"

"-- like to be thorough," Kento parroted you, knowing you so well. You rolled your eyes at him. Hearing him chuckle, he reassured you, "No, no, I like it. You're thorough. It's a turn-on, I promise." Laughing lightly as you stepped over damp brickwork and ivy, you heard the jangle of Kento's keys over the phone.

"Well, Sir, if I'm that much of a turn-on, you'd best get that wine. I'm ready for our evening." Kento gave you an approving hum, and bid you get home soon.

Hanging up, you stepped into the humidity of what appeared to be a totally enclosed patch of woodland, sprung like an oasis, half-in and half-out of the crumbled factory walls. Beautiful flowers, wild with a heady scent, sprouted from beds of moss and ivy, and low-hanging trees dropped jewels of dew onto the springy floor. You felt yourself becoming heavy-headed and warm. Bending down to inspect a particularly beautiful pink-budded succulent, you squeaked in shock when the buds puffed open into a surprising shade of yellow, coating you in a fine mist of pollen.

Sneezing, you backed away. Bumping against the residual wall, you noticed the forest starting to crumble away from the edges, disintegrating in the same way as the main Curse-body had. With a sinking feeling in your stomach, you recognised you had nearly been so foolish as to walk straight into the remains of its dying belly. Telling yourself off for your gullibility, you watched from the factory as the forest faded away, leaves rising like ashes into the mist.

You felt flushed, heart thumping behind your breasts as you left the factory, finding Ijichi waiting patiently for you outside the veil. Ijichi smiled to you, bowing, thanking you for your services. He held the car door open for you, and you climbed in, grateful for the chance to sit down.

Except, as the car rumbled to life, every small vibration, every graze of the cool leather against your flushed skin, every time you caught the smell of Ijichi's shampoo, you felt the agonising thud of arousal between your legs. You mentally shook yourself when catching yourself looking Ijichi up and down from the back seat, admiring how his hands managed the steering wheel so smoothly, and you were appalled that this wonderful, kind, gorgeous man didn't have a girlfriend yet. Maybe you could be his girlfriend, you thought fleetingly, you'd know how to treat him right--

"Everything okay?" Ijichi caught your eyes in the mirror, full of concern as you gasped at yourself and slapped your own cheeks. Cheeks pink, breasts heaving with deep breaths and underwear increasingly wet, you knew you needed to get home to Kento. There was absolutely nobody else you needed right now, and surely this would wear off, surely he would help you deal with your desire as you had helped with his, in the shower that night--

"I'm okay, Ijichi, I'm fine!" You babbled, arms folded across your chest to hide your pebbled nipples, "Just tired! You know how it is. Busy day." You laughed nervously, hiding your face in shame as Ijichi politely bowed his head and continued to drive you home.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kento dropped his keys onto the shelf, slipping out of his shoes and into house slippers as he leaned back against the door, shutting it with a click.

His heart gave a happy leap when he heard you rummaging around the bathroom; you were home. Rolling the wine bottle in his broad palm, he fetched two glasses. In the process of uncorking the bottle, he pretended not to notice as you walked up behind him. He regretted feigning ignorance when he felt sharp teeth nip into the back of his shoulder.

Kento spun, startled, and barely had time to save the open bottle of wine when he was pushed with surprising force back against the table. All thoughts and blood rushed straight to his cock as he felt your body, insistent and hot press against his. Kento offered no resistance at first as you grabbed the back of his neck, fingers sinking into his hair to pull him down for a kiss, but stopped immediately at the feverish and desperate look in your eyes.

Kento gripped your shoulders and held you at arm's length, scowling deeply as he appraised you. Still in mission-wear. Flushed. Eyes glazed. Heat radiating off you.

"You're...hurt? What happened? Tell me." Kento ordered, already moving to grab his keys- you needed Shoko's attention. You moved instantly to block Kento's path, eyes fixed on him and pupils dilated as you panted, arousal thrumming through you in waves, your blood rushing in your ears and between your legs. Not swayed, and firm in his decision, Kento restrained you effortlessly, one arm trapping both of yours behind your back, and another arm diagonally across your breasts.

As Kento's arms pressed your body firmly against his own, you moaned and Kento short-circuited. Not letting go, breath tickling the side of your face, Kento stared at you.

"What happened?" he repeated. You pressed your head back against his shoulder, whimpering in frustration.

"The Curse was very plant-like I suppose, and it had a garden, and these pollen pods just exploded all over me, and since then I've just...I just...god Kento please just fuck me, I'm begging you."

With a blush, it finally clicked for Kento-  you weren't hurt, you were uncontrollably horny. He gulped, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, and cock hardening against his thigh. In a measured voice, Kento replied.

"You're in no fit state to demand I fuck you. You're under the influence of that curse, and I won't take advantage of you like that."

"Who said anything about you taking advantage?" You whined, rubbing your arse back against his hardening cock, "I'm asking if you'll let me take advantage of you." You squirmed against Kento, one of your pinned hands sneaking between the buttons of his shirt to rub his V-line. Your head turned sharply and you bit Kento's neck hard enough to draw blood. Kento yelped in alarm, now moving you swiftly forwards and pressing you into the wall, using one arm and one knee between your legs to pin you there.

"You minx," he gasped. Wiping at his neck with one hand and holding your wrists in another, Kento watched as you squirmed against the wall, thighs clamped furiously together for relief, blush creeping down your breasts.

"Kento, please," you begged, "I helped you. When you came home, drunk. And you promised you wouldn't refuse me."

"You and I both know that was--"

"It was no different!" Kento let his silence hang in the air. He knew as soon as he let you go, you'd be undressing him in seconds. He was furious to find himself thrilled at the thought. Being used as your toy sounded absolutely delicious.

"If I let you use me for some relief, but it doesn't work, I'll be taking you to Shoko immediately. Understood?" You nodded frantically, hands clenching and unclenching desperately in Kento's grasp. Kento walked you slowly back to the table, and you heard him knock back his glass of wine. You felt a glass placed to your lips, and Kento's smooth voice in your ear, "Bottoms up," as you gulped the wine, the alcohol hitting your heightened senses immediately, and your need for Kento to be buried inside you was suddenly furious and burning.

Kento let go of your wrists, and you jumped him, quite literally, arms locked behind his neck and legs around his waist. Kento grunted in surprise as your lips crashed against his with bruising force, the taste of blood and red wine on his tongue as you forced yours into his mouth, immediately dominant in a way that aroused him to his very core. Kento's hands cupped your arse perfectly, and you shifted your weight so Kento slammed back onto the table, feet on the floor as you straddled him, clothed pussy grinding against his cock.

Kento groaned at the contact, and submitted fully when you pinned his wrists to the table, leaning forward to bite and suck his neck. Kento shivered with pleasure, feeling every mark that he would see in the mirror the next morning. Drunk on the novelty of being so used, Kento offered absolutely no resistance as your hand slipped to his groin, squeezing his clothed erection almost too hard through the thin material. Kento shuddered, coughing in surprise and bucking into your hand.

Your hand left his cock far too soon, and you moved up Kento's body, now pinning his wrists with your knees as you began to undo his tie. Kento watched you with absolute focus as you then began to undress yourself, clothes being flung off at speed, until you were bare breasted on top of him, nipples hard as bullets, and you absent-mindedly draped Kento's tie around your neck as you surveyed him like your favourite meal.

"Oh, fuck," Kento intoned, as you ripped open his shirt, hearing buttons skitter away across the table. Moving down to grind against him again, and replacing your knees on his wrists with your hands, you bit his nipple, leaving lovebites across his heaving chest. Kento's head swam with arousal and anticipation, hands eager to reach you, to give you your own way, to be inside you.

You were focused, predatory in your need, and closed your eyes as you kicked your trousers and underwear off, pussy now totally naked and glistening with your arousal, leaving a wet patch on Kento's groin as you humped his clothed cock fervently. Kento was completely pinned, moaning and gasping as his cock twitched with need. You felt like you were on fire, your clit throbbing as you felt your first orgasm approaching, almost there but not close enough, body and mind still feeling too empty to climax. Your torso leaned closer to Kento's as you tried to increase the pressure and he quickly freed his arms from under yours.

Sliding one hand between your legs, he hurriedly pressed his two middle fingers upwards, deep into the heat and wetness of your pussy, his thumb quickly finding your clit and rubbing harsh circles on it. You cried out and bucked, riding his hand, and Kento nearly came from the feeling of your pussy clenching his fingers alone. You had reached down, both hands holding Kento's wrist, grasping his hand in place as your cunt fluttered around it, wet and needy, your cries becoming higher and louder, desperate to abate the burning arousal that had turned your skin electric.

Kento felt your desperation, watching you, near tears, trying to cum on his fingers. Reaching down, he swiftly unbuttoned his trousers and freed his leaking cock, pressing it up into you without warning, not even removing his fingers, and pinching your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

Your orgasm hit you in hot waves, tears streaming down your cheeks as you called Kento's name over and over, feeling stretched and overfull with his fingers and cock still inside you. Feeling next to no relief post-orgasm, you slammed your hips down on Kento's, chasing the fullness his hand and straining erection gave you.

Kento clenched his teeth as you rode him, refusing to cum until you'd had your fill of him, vision and heart full of you clad in nothing but his tie. One hand remaining between your legs, and the other providing aggressive attention to your breasts and nipples, Kento felt your sweat and cum drip down his balls, groin now soaked with the intoxicating smell of you. He continued rubbing circles on your clit and squeezed his fingers forward against your internal walls, feeling your cervix bump his fingertips, as you shook and shuddered your way through a second orgasm.

Kento removed his hands to grasp your hips, your wetness dropping along his hand. Lifting you up and ramming you back down onto his cock, you slumped forwards onto him, a ragdoll.

Determined to pleasure you until you could barely stand, Kento tilted your hips against his until his cock pumped in and out of you at the perfect angle, his eyes fixed on where his fingers sank into the plush fat of your arse, jiggling as he slammed you down onto him. He hissed as your nails dug crescents into his shoulders, and you pleaded against his chest-- "please please please cum inside me, don't stop, don't stop" -- while his hips bucked you upwards, feet cramping as his toes pressed hard onto the floor, lights in his eyes as he felt his balls and abdomen clench, his approaching orgasm about to overwhelm his stamina. He felt your teeth and hot little pants against his chest.

Your hips couldn't keep up with his pace, hearing his moans rumble through his chest with every thrust, until you felt his cock jump and spurt hot seed inside you, cervix wet and belly warm and full. You lay on top of him, shuddering, feeling the heat in your body gradually dissipate. Kento stroked your hair, strong arms holding you to him, planting soft kisses on top of your head.

"Better?" he inquired, toying with the tie around your neck. You blushed, bashful after your performance, nodding and humming against his neck. "Much," you reassured him. He tapped your bum playfully, "You go shower and get cleaned up. I'll tidy up out here."

You climbed off him with a sigh, feeling his cum drip down your thighs as he slipped out of you, and you padded away to the bathroom.

In a few minutes, sated, sleepy, and feeling the hot water tumble over you, you were struck with a thought. Opening the shower door, you called out to Kento.

"I was just thinking, maybe you shouldn't touch those clothes? There's probably still loads of--" You paused, hearing Kento sneeze and swear in the next room.

A few tense moments passed, the time coiling up in your tummy like snakes, and the bathroom door creaked open slowly. Kento filled the doorway, shoulders tense as he stared you down like you were prey, slowly stroking his rapidly hardening cock.

"Oh shit," you breathed, naked and helpless under the hot water as he approached you, eyes burning with intent.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

REQUEST #1 COMPLETE!

And just think, Kento never even took off his slippers. Get you a man who can rail you like that with his house slippers on.

[augustinewrites]

synopsis: wriothesley always knows exactly what you need.

building a home in fontaine’s countryside was the best decision that you and wriothesley had made. the privacy was your main reason for moving out here, where your home is hidden away from eyes that pry, tucked safely underneath the linden trees. 

of course, there are a lot of things about your house that you love. the ivy that wraps around its walls, the acres of land for gardening and raising animals, or just to sit within and admire. you love the warmth of the fireplace on cool nights and the south-facing windows that let golden sunlight fill the room. you love this home because you built it together (with the help of your friends). 

but your absolute favourite piece in your home has to be the clawfoot bathtub. deep enough to nearly reach your shoulders, long enough to stretch your legs across. sinking into a bath in this gorgeous tub was the perfect way to end a long week.

you’re preparing a bath now, trussing it up with bath salts, essential oils, some bubbles. candles for ambiance. the setting sun was still bright enough to bounce soft light around the room, but you liked the warm glow candles provided. 

the only thing left now was to strip out of your work clothes. you toss them in the basket, rolling your eyes as you pick up a stray sock that seemed to just miss the basket last night. 

“unbelievable,” you mutter with a shake of your head as you grab the stem of your wine glass, cradling it into your chest as you climb into the tub and slowly lower yourself into the warm water. the second you lean back against the ceramic you instantly begins to relax. the tensions from the work week are already beginning to drift away in a heavenly haze of lavender scented steam and bubbles. it’s just you, your wine, and a quiet evening.

the sound of the front door being thrown open jolts you out of your daze. you nearly spill your wine when you sit upright, body alert at the thought of an intruder. 

your husband calls your name. 

“bathroom!” you call back, releasing a relieved sigh as you sink back into the water. you hear his heavy footsteps quickly make their way across the cottage. he’s home early today. 

wriothesley appears in the doorway, lopsided smile on his face as he already begins loosening his tie, stepping into the bathroom. “don’t you look relaxed.”

you simply hum in response, smiling up at him. at least until he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it in the general direction of the basket. 

“wrio,” you pout as his trousers suffer the same fate. “your stuff goes in the basket. not in the area around it.” 

“they’ll get there eventually,” he shrugs, gesturing for you to scoot up. “don’t want the water to get cold.”

so much for a quiet evening.

“you know, the purpose of the bigger bath was so that we wouldn’t be squished together like this,” you mutter as he slides into the water behind you, tucking himself snugly against your back and settling his chin in the crook of your neck

“maybe i just like being pressed up against you,” he says, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. “i do like having a bigger bath for our…activities though.”

you roll your eyes, and wriothesley makes up for his lewd insinuations when his hands start working at the knots in your shoulders. “wanna tell me what you’re doing home so early? i usually have to tear you away from your desk for the weekend.”

“promise you won’t freak out?” he sighs, digging his fingers into a particularly large knot at the base of your neck. it’s a trap and you know this, but it just feels so good. 

“wriothesley–” you start.

his fingers move under your chin, tilting your head toward him so you’re eye to eye. “i may have left clorinde in charge so i could take a few days off.” before you can get a word out, he swallows your argument with a kiss.

“wait,” you sputter. “how many days did you take off?”

“three days starting tomorrow,” he answers quickly, leaning in for another kiss. you place a soap-covered hand on his mouth and push his face away, ignoring his confused noises. 

“you can’t take that many days off, we have the finance meeting with neuvillette on monday,” you remind him, scooting to the opposite end of the tub to avoid any more distracting touches. “i can’t go by myself–”

“ah,” he interrupts, rubbing the back of his neck. “i may have signed off on a few days off for you too.”

“what?!” you yell, but it’s more like a shriek. “don’t you remember what happened last time you left clorinde in charge? the infirmary–” 

“i told her she can’t hit them this time!”

you huff, bubbles floating through the air as you cross your arms over your chest. you’re surprised he’d take so much time off before an important meeting. 

“come on,” he urges, that sneaky smile you hate to love still playing on his lips as he leans forward in the water. you feel his hand grip your ankle, barely lifting your leg above the water, thumbs rubbing firm circles into the pad of your foot. “i’m not trying to get out of anything. i just want to spend some more time with you.”

you have to admit, he looks absolutely irresistible right now. The way the warm sunset bounced off the rivulets of water dripping down the planes of his chest painted a very pretty picture for you to look at as he massaged your tired muscles. 

and he’s right. the two of you have been busy lately, sneaking quick kisses when you pass him in the hall or hiding away for a moment before one of you is called for. 

his skilled fingers work their way up your calf, soothing the muscles you used to walk around the infirmary. You lean your head back, letting your eyes slip closed as he starts describing your weekend off in a low voice that makes heat creep up to your cheeks. 

“it’ll just be me and you all weekend. We’ll lay in bed all morning, then i’ll make you a special brunch–” you crack one eye open to send him a wary look. “okay, you got me. i’ll order us a special brunch. then we’ll have a picnic out in the yard, maybe do some fishing at the dock…”

okay, you’re sold. a restful weekend with your love sounds perfect. 

“well, as long as you’re prepared for the– ah,” you gasp, shuddering as his fingers travel up past your knee. “wriothesley, what are you–” 

“shh, just giving you another preview of what you’re in for this weekend,” he laughs, fingers grazing your inner thigh. “let me help you relax, love.”

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! i love your writing so much! i was wondering if you could write something with leon and a clingy reader? she just likes being held by him, and one day a make out session gets out of hand while he’s holding her so he just fucks her while standing up, not letting her get down. i don’t know if this makes sense but the thought won’t leave my head. hope you’re having a good day/night! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: you're such a needy little thing. leon can't get enough of you, and when he finds out you like being held, he has to take advantage of that.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), standing sex, daddy kink

word count: 3.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i FELT this one cause i also have a thing about being held hehe. i hope it's what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are really appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

It only took Leon a couple weeks of dating to figure out that his girlfriend was exceptionally needy. He could tell you tried to suppress it to the best of your ability, control your yearning for physical contact, but it was still there. Honestly, it was obvious from the way you looked at him alone. Glossy, pleading eyes just calling out to him for some love.

At first, he was wary of this trait. He wasn’t good with affection normally. Didn’t like talking about his feelings. That stuff was just too much. He’s a busy guy already. He didn’t need extra worries in the form of a sweet thing like you rubbing your cheek against his neck, snaking your arms beneath his shirt, softly pleading “Leon, I wanna cuddle.”

But his problem was that he always gave into that stuff. Words like those hitting his ears, your pouty lips begging for his kisses, and grabby hands roaming around his body always got you what you wanted. He’d plant a smooch on your temple or forehead, grunt a quiet “c’mere then baby,” and pull you on top of him.

Time passed, and you grew on him like ivy climbing a stone wall. Your clingy nature took root somewhere inside him and drove him wild. It was addictive, feeling so needed. For the first time in his life, he felt like someone’s absolute first choice. It was nice living out his days with the subconscious idea that he was your favorite person. He could get a bit cocky about it sometimes but more than anything it made him all sappy. He couldn’t help it. He tried keeping up the cool, slick persona around you for a little while because impressing you was so important to him. But the way you looked at him made him feel like Superman. Your precious face tilted upwards to gaze at him like he was the only man you’d ever laid eyes on. It just made him wanna scoop you up and take off, soar far up into the clouds where it would just be the two of you.

So he ended up feeding into this kind of behavior one thousand percent, enabling you with no reservations. If you were sitting together, you were on his lap. Standing near each other? His arm was around you, keeping you tucked to his chest. The two of you would be lying in bed and simple cuddling just didn’t cut it anymore. No, instead, he’d be rubbing your back, nuzzling and kissing your neck, massaging your scalp. And the pet names were constant. Your actual name was only reserved for serious or special occasions. In ordinary conversations, it was always “my baby” with the intermittent “precious girl” or “princess” mixed in. 

Because, from his perspective, why wouldn’t he? You both deserved this. You craved the physical affection you’d never gotten enough of while he yearned for a sweet little thing to dote on and love between the brutal DSO missions that plagued most of his time. He didn’t give a fuck if someone wanted to say it was codependent or that he was whipped. You were his baby, and if sweet tender affection was what revved your engine, what kind of man would he be to deprive you of it?

Maybe he was whipped. He wouldn’t shy away from that label. He loved you undoubtedly. His heart ached to see you smiling and laughing. Each individual cell in his body cried out to be pressed against you. But in the same breath, he’d be a liar if he said that sex played no part in his urges to coddle you.

He’d never seen a girl get as cock drunk as you. He’d warm you up with his cooing and caresses, and then all he had to do was slide a few inches in you, and you were gone. Nothing had ever gotten him so hard. It’s like your brain shut off as soon as your sweet little pussy was filled up. Really, you went the whole nine yards; whining, babbling, drooling. Your gorgeous lashes would flutter as your eyes went hazy, and you always wanted to hold his hand. Well, more specifically, you wanted him to offer his hand to you. He’d simply murmur “Aw, is it too much, princess? Here, hold daddy’s hand. That’s my girl,” and you were already cumming.

Cause that was the other part of this whole thing. Shortly after he caught on to your intense need for physical affection, he discovered your penchant for the infamous d word. The first time you’d said it, he had you pinned down to the mattress, face shoved against your pillow, hips slightly elevated while he stuffed you full of cock. You just cried it out in the same way you’d yell for God or whine “fuck.” And he rolled with it. One little word wasn’t gonna get in the way of what he’d found with you.

Beyond calling him daddy, Leon tried to take note of all the things that got you going. Sure, you were fond of physical expressions of love, and you probably wouldn’t turn down an offer from him ever. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have favorites when it came to this stuff. Leon took pride in remembering what you liked. Over the months of your relationship, he made a point to remember the specific motion you liked him to do when he rubbed your back. He burned into his mind that you liked to kiss in a way that would definitely make those over-the-top smooching noises found in network dramas. What could he say? He just wanted to do everything right for you.

Possibly his favorite thing that he discovered about you though was your love for being held. Love probably wasn’t even a strong enough word. Your affinity? Proclivity? Plain white hot need? Who fucking knows. All he knew was that you had a major thing for being wrapped up in his arms with your head on his shoulder.

The first hint he’d got at this part of you came by pure accident. He’d just arrived home from a mission, a long and taxing one at that. He’d missed you like crazy, felt as needy as you did on a daily basis, and you were practically vibrating with a longing for his touch. So when you came bounding down the hallway to meet him at the front door, he’d grabbed you by the waist, picked you up and spun you around like in an old cartoon when the prince and princess finally get their happily ever after.

Coming out of the short twirl, he’d brought you to his chest and held your body a little ways above the ground. He cradled your head to your shoulder and kept his grip tight to support you. And it wasn’t like you melted or had little hearts gleaming in your eyes, but something in your demeanor shifted.

“There’s my baby,” he muttered while smacking kisses on the side of your head.

You replied with how much you missed him, more than anything in the whole world. He laughed his deep, rumbling laugh and brought you over to the couch. You were all over him even more than normal which was really saying something. You couldn’t stop pecking his face or pushing up against him. Next thing he knew, you were tugging at his belt and taking his dick down your throat.

“Fuck, precious. don’t gotta choke yourself. It’s not goin’ anywhere,'' he hummed while tilting his head back against the couch. You weren’t normally so forward. You were always needy, but typically, you waited for him to initiate. It was much more your style to drop hints that you were in the mood and wait for him to pick up on your signals, but this time you just went for it.

He stroked the back of your head while you bobbed your head, taking him deeper each time. Groans fell from his lips, and his hips jolted in small twitches. Your saliva seeped out over your soft lips and dribbled down to his balls. You had never lacked enthusiasm before, but now you were taking him like his cock was the best treat you’d ever had.

He could barely stand the sight of you in that moment. Cute eyes drooping while your cheeks hollowed. Once he heard the muted sound of you gagging, he was done for. Shot his load deep in your throat in what would have been an embarrassingly short amount of time if you were anyone else. But you swallowed it all without any complaints and then crawled into his lap to cuddle some more. As you curled up to his chest, he knew something he did struck a chord with you to get you so eager.

So naturally, he tried picking you up again a couple days later. He had to know if that was a fluke or if it really was a thing. This time it was much more intentional, but he still played it off as a teasing gesture. He scooped you up from behind while you were fidgeting with something in the kitchen, expecting a whiny chorus of “Leon!” and “Stop, put me down!” But you didn’t say either. You let out a soft squeak and a quiet “What are you doing?”

“Just giving you a hug, baby,” he teased and situated you in his embrace so your front was pressed to his.

Almost immediately, as if your skull was magnetized, your head fell to his shoulder. Your limbs tightened around him a little and you took a deep breath like you wanted to commit his scent to memory. You didn’t even complain about him pulling you away from whatever task had been occupying your attention.

“This isn’t a hug,” you’d said softly.

“Says who? Seems like a hug to me, got my arms around you,” he responded with a small kiss to your temple.

His hand rose to your head and cradled it against his shoulder as your legs locked around his waist. He stood there with you for a moment just taking in the embrace. It was as if he could feel you melt against his body.

“A hug is when we’re both standing,” you say quietly while slotting your face in the warm crook of his neck.

“Yeah? You look that up in the dictionary or something?” he mutters in return.

When he had a firm hold on you, he walked you through the living room, taking the long way up to the bedroom to give his little experiment some time to play out. You rested quietly in his grasp as he navigated past furniture. He ran his free hand up and down your back as he moved, his other one planted firmly on your thigh to support you.

After the two of you reached the bedroom, he set you down on the bed and climbed in after you. His fingers coasted across your cheek as he looked down into your eyes, studying you in a way. He was still curious about what was going through your head. Again, him holding you like that had led to some of the best sex the two of you’d had, but there was something deeper there too. This wasn’t just a cheat code to get you to drop your panties. There was an emotional part of this too. He could tell.

“So you like when I pick you up, hm?” he’d asked.

You looked up at him from your spot against his chest, glowing a bit as you came down from the high. “I guess,” you answered with a tiny shrug.

He’d chuckled at your attempt to be casual and just dropped the subject matter. Your reasons were probably sensitive to you. Located in a deep, private cavern of your heart that was too guarded for you to let even him in yet. And that was ok with him. For now, he’d just chalk it up to some desire on an instinctual level. It was just something that made you tick, and it became something he did for you from time to time when you needed that extra level of care.

This evening, the two of you had been watching some movie. To be honest, Leon didn’t even remember what it was called at this point because he didn’t really wanna watch it in the first place. He was much more interested in you. You had just started it up as he arrived home from running some errands though, so he didn’t want to be rude and ask you to shut it off just because he was horny. Instead, he flopped down next to you on the couch. 

A small laugh bubbles from your lips as he pulls you to him and kisses down the side of your face, murmuring for you to explain what’s going on in the thing you were watching. You ramble on about the story, telling him that it’s the end of the world and these guys are trapped in this house, and that one is friends with that one but hates the other one, and blah blah blah. He loved you to death, but he just couldn’t care less about that right now. He hums along with a stream alternating between  “mhm” and “oh yeah.”

Your laughter increases as his kisses become more distracting. He nips at the skin of your throat and litters your soft skin with love bites. His tongue laves at your neck as his nose coasts over your flesh. After a while, your own interest in the movie begins to dwindle. You turn your head and plant some smooches on his face, enticing him to tilt his head upwards. The two of you meet in the middle, connecting your lips.

Mouths move in sync, tongues brush each other, and soon enough, your seat’s been abandoned in favor of your true favorite spot. You’re parked on his lap, the lush flesh of your ass flush against his semi-hard bulge. His hand slithers up your back underneath your shirt to rub up and down your spine while pulling you closer. Your breathing gets heavier, and you’re practically panting when you two finally pull away for a break. Your lips are wet with spit and a little puffy from making out. He drags his thumb over your bottom one as he smirks at your glazed eyes.

“Think you’d be ok with finishing this later?” he asks.

To his pleasure, you’re quick to accept the offer with a nod. “Seen it before anyways,” you admit and lean back in for more kisses.

He chuckles into your mouth and boosts you up without even turning the tv off. He’s stumbling to the bedroom, and you’re latched onto him like a little spidermonkey or something. He knew well by now that being carried took your brain to that sweet spot of utter submission, but today you were on something else entirely. You were getting whiny between kisses. He was having to support you extra because your hands were trying to slide in between the two of you and get at his pants. He assumed it was cause he got you riled up before picking you up, but he didn’t lament about it too much. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now.

All your squirming around nearly made him trip and topple the both of you to the ground. He grunts and shifts you around, trying to get you to settle down at least till you reach the bedroom. You wouldn’t let up though, continuing on with your impatient hip rocking and greedy fingers. He’s sure he’s about to fall over and one of you is moments away from serious injury, so he totters a few steps over and secures you against the wall.

“Jesus, you’d think I’d just got back from a war or something,” he breathes.

You laugh, but keep up your neediness. “Just want you so bad. Missed my daddy all day,” you murmur.

“Yeah? I know it’s hard being away from me. Your little head’s just not cut out for all that thinking is it?” he coos condescendingly, “This is how you're meant to be, just attached to daddy, letting him take care of everything while you tag along.”

“Mhm,” you nod and kiss him again. He can feel you smiling against his lips.

“Yeah, so how bout you do me a favor then and stop wriggling around so much. You wanna get dropped on your head so thinking isn’t even an option anymore?” he teases.

“No. I just…” you whimper defensively. A smile spreads across your face as you hide your face at the base of his neck. “I just want you… really bad.”

That was a tone Leon knew well by now. That was the tone of the guessing game. It was the voice you used when you wanted something but were too shy to just ask for it. So Leon had to decipher your signals and figure out what that thing was. Luckily, this time around it was pretty simple.

“Really bad? Like pinned down in the middle of the hallway while I’m stuffing you full of cum bad?” he asks.

“Sorta…” you say.

With an amused shake of his head, he thinks a little more. The stuffed full of cum thing was a given. So what was off? He was thinking through this as if searching for a missing puzzle piece. He runs through different scenarios before it clicks. He laughs a little. It was kind of obvious once he had it.

“Oh, of course not. There’s no way you’d choose to be out of my arms. What was I thinking?” he says, exaggerating his cadence, “So you want it standing?”

You nod, and with the right answer, that little smile feels so much sweeter. He leans harder into you, keeping you by pressing you between him and the wall. Giving you a few messy kisses, he finally undoes his pants and pushes them down to his mid-thigh. He was fully hard now. You could feel it as he rolled his hips against your center.

“Lucky you’re wearing a skirt, nice and easy for me,” he hums.

He bunches up the fabric around your waist before dragging his fingers over your panties, feeling how they were damp. He smirks against your lips while applying more pressure, seeking out your swollen clit.

“Already so wet, baby,” he chides, “Is this how you get while I’m not with you? Can’t think of anything but daddy cause your pretty pussy’s just crying for some more attention.”

“Yeah, need you to make the ache go away,” you say in a breathy whimper.

“I know you do,” he coos.

It’s a bit difficult in this position, but Leon manages to remove the last barriers of cloth separating the two of you. He lines up his dick with your entrance and slides home. Now it’s his head that falls on your shoulder as he groans. His stance didn’t really allow him to ease in. He was balls deep in the first stroke. You let out a long satisfied moan.

Taking a moment to readjust, he gets his elbows hooked under the bends of your knees. You’re basically bent in half, his cock to your cervix. This angle felt even deeper too. Your walls pulse around him as you work to accommodate the length.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Every part of you clings to me,” he grunts before taking a step away from the wall.

Losing the stability behind your back had you rocking and shifting more, causing his tip to nudge against all those sweet spots. Your thighs quiver as Leon gets into a rhythm and figures out how to bounce you on his cock like his. The sound of your skin meeting floats down the hallway. You whine and whimper, your eyes roll back as your head tilts the same direction.

He could tell you were loving it. Your favorite place to be combined with your favorite feeling in the entire world. There was nothing his sweet girl loved more than being stuffed full of cock and held by him.

“Feeling good, princess? Is daddy fucking you just how you wanted?” he asks.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm,” you whimper and nod dumbly.

“Good,” he says. He focuses on working himself in and out of you. His mind is locked on the sensation of your slick coating his shaft and collecting at the base, dripping down to his balls. But more words fill his mind and rush to his mouth to be let out. “This is why you’re so needy, right baby? You just need some cock in you or you get so frustrated. Can’t even think straight without your fill, can you?”

You shake your head wildly. Your legs tense over his arms. His hands dig into your back to keep you supported. You see his biceps flexing beneath his sleeves as he uses his strength to hold you up. He rocks you on his cock, back and forth, sliding himself in and out. You’re gasping and trembling more noticeably now. He knows you’re approaching the peak.

“Doing so good for me, precious,” he murmurs, “Keep squeezing me like that so I can fill you up just how you need.”

Your noises become more desperate. It feels as though you get even tighter. Leon slams into you deeper than you could remember. But then again, in this state, your memory wasn’t worth much. Pumping in and out, he sees your eyes squeeze show, your mouth widening into that cute familiar shape it always made when you came.

“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for daddy,” he groans.

You do as he says, following your orders. You seize up and moan, long and loud. He tightens his grip and takes a step closer to the wall to ensure your high isn’t cut by falling. His hips don’t stop though. He feels that tensing in his belly. Gritting his teeth, he pounds you over and over until he has to stumble back to the wall.

You hit the surface with a thud, but he’s a little too busy to notice. He growls and whimpers into your neck, hips working at a more strained pace as he tries to grab that brief euphoria. A few thrusts later and release is washing over him. He fucks you full, going deep and staying true to his word about filling you up. He pumps every last drop in.

You slowly slide down in his arms till he lets go of your legs and your feet can touch the ground again. Looking up at him as he comes down, you watch his features melt into the relaxation of post-release. You lean up and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. His eyes open and look down at you. A lazy smile spreads on his face and moves in to return the gesture.

“So how’d I do?” he asks with that smug look you loved so much.

“Perfect like always,” you answer, genuine in contrast to his teasing. You step forward on wobbly legs, grabbing his hand to finish your trip to the bedroom together. He leans down and smacks a kiss on your neck.

“Clearly not perfect enough if you’re walking on your own now,” he purrs in your ear.

You smile and look down. “There’s still time to fix that,” you offer.

“Of course there is,” he agrees with a light swat to your ass. He pecks your lips once more before following you through the entryway to your shared room.

[msbigredmachine]

The Boy Next Door: Chapter Two

MASTERLIST ✨ harmshake's masterlist ✨ msbigredmachine's masterlist

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, language, angst, violence

Banner made by me. Credit to the owners of the other pics and gifs.

“Uhhnnn, fuck...baby I’m comin’...”

Angelo’s deep, rough voice broke as he yanked a little too hard on Ivy’s hair, causing her to wince from the sharp pain. He thrust inside her just as hard a few more times before his body seized up, his pelvis mashed against her backside to make her feel him pulsing inside her as he came. Not for the first time, she was thankful condoms were a thing and she always insisted that he had one on him before he touched her; there was no doubt he would get her pregnant the next chance he got with the aim of tethering himself even deeper into her life. It was apparent in the desperation with which his admittedly above-average dick dug all up in her pussy every time they got together. On the bright side, his efforts got the job done…Well, that, along with the frantic circling of her fingers around her clit that never failed to drag her to a long-awaited nut that currently had her moaning noisily into her bamboo sheets. Thank goodness her daughter was a long way down the hallway, fast asleep in her four-poster bed, oblivious to the late night goings-on of her dysfunctional parents.

She hissed with relief when Angelo finally released his vice grip, flopping onto his back, his sweat-slick chest heaving up and down. The same old routine followed, with him lazily and unwisely reaching out for a cuddle, prompting her standard rebuff of rolling away from him. She waited patiently for the gradual shift in his breathing, from heavy to relaxed, signaling that he was out like a light. Glancing over to confirm, she rolled her eyes with a huff. This dude left the condom on. Again. Even in his sleep, he was making her clean up after him. Exhaling heavily, she reached over to carefully slide the thin latex off his dick and tie it up in a knot, climbing out of the bed to dump it in the trash can nearby. 

The lights illuminating the paved streets outside her home seeped through her bedroom windows, shedding more light than was necessary considering it was deep into the night. She padded over to the window to draw down the roller blinds, making a mental reminder to herself to keep them closed more often now that the house across was occupied. Her fingers wavered when she noticed that the lights of his bedroom were still on. It piqued her curiosity as to what would be keeping him awake at this late hour. Work, perhaps?

And then, almost on cue, the hulking figure of her new neighbor came into view, and her breath caught.

Roman stepped out of what was probably his bathroom, his towel hanging dangerously low around his waist. His hair was down, long, silky and clearly wet, the droplets of water glistening against his bare chest. He was walking around the room, seemingly acquainting himself with the new space. Ivy was on the money with the athletic physique, unable to take her eyes off his bulging muscles, the ridges of his abs, and the intricate tribal tattoos adorning his right arm, pec and half of his back that only embellished the majesty and beauty of this stranger. Standing there like the voyeur she’d become, she allowed her mind to wander, to wonder what those taut, rippling muscles would feel like pressed against her nakedness, his long hair fanning her face as his big body pinned her down…his voice, deep and rough and needy in her ear, talking her through her pleasure…

So entranced was she in her fantasy that she didn’t realize he had pivoted in her direction, fully facing the window, until it was almost too late. Her eyes widened as his hands slid south, unraveling the towel from his waist…

Gasping in alarm, she quickly turned away, fumbling with the blinds to snatch them shut. She leaned against the wall, her cheeks blazing, hand on her hammering heart as it dawned on her that she’d almost seen him naked.

And yet, as scandalized as she was, a small part of her wished she did. 

Damn.

Willing away the disappointment and the stirring in her loins, she dragged herself back to bed, hoping she would get some sleep.

Morning arrived too quickly for her liking, and she was up too early considering it was her day off, with her next shift not until tomorrow. Untangling herself carefully from Angelo’s clingy grasp, she rolled onto her side and checked the time on her phone charging on her nightstand. Seven a.m. was a decent hour to take Duchess out for a morning walk and be back home in time for Zaia to be out of bed so they could make red velvet pancakes together, assuming she wouldn’t be glued to her father’s side like she liked to be. 

Climbing out of bed carefully so as not to wake Angelo and kick off her day on a sour note, she threw on a forest-green sports bra and matching leggings from Actively Black, along with a pair of Nike sneakers, and wrapped up her hair in a bun on top of her head. Grabbing her phone and headphones, she stopped by Zaia’s room to check on her. As expected, her baby was sound asleep, buried beneath her Disney Princesses duvet. Ivy would have woken her up to join her but she wanted her to rest; she’d worked so hard all week in school and with her chores and therefore earned this Saturday morning lie-in. 

Laying by Zaia’s bedside, Duchess’ head snapped up when the door opened. She bolted across the room towards Ivy, her tail wagging excitedly, bouncing on her hind legs and pawing at her mama’s shins.

"Hi, girl! You awake? You’re a good girl, yes, you are!" Ivy cooed softly, shutting the bedroom door quietly before lifting Duchess in her arms to be attacked with excited licks and doggy breath. "Come on, let’s go for a walk." Grabbing her leash, harness and a water bottle, she headed downstairs and out the door. 

The route was a simple one, the expanse of tarred road sandwiched between rows of houses of various sizes and styles leading down a winding path to the public park. The weather was perfect, the fresh air sweeping over Ivy's face with a calming, peaceful feeling that was a stark contrast from the controlled chaos of her life. She let Duchess lead the way, the little dog stopping every now and then to sniff a tree or bark at an innocent squirrel. Another sharp turn round the bend brought them to the entrance of the dog park. Lowering her headphones around her neck, Ivy settled down on a nearby bench, watching Duchess run towards the puppy playground. It was relatively empty with just two other owners and their equally small dogs, but she was sure she’d leave once it became crowded. To pass the time, she scrolled through her unread emails, responding to the urgent ones while keeping a watchful eye on Duchess. A flash of movement to her left caught her attention, and looking up, her heart raced in her chest.

Slowing down to a stop on the pedestrian path, dusting his knees off, was Roman. Even with a beanie and a hoodie covering his head, there was no mistaking his striking features; the prominent cheekbones, the sharp jawline framed by his thick beard. His long-sleeved Nike shirt clung to his upper body, straining the fabric’s futile attempt to contain the burgeoning muscles underneath. Ivy found herself taking a swig of her water due to the heat that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

She shouldn’t have disturbed him. She should have let him go about his day - but her mouth and hand moved faster than her brain, waving from her seat, “Hey Roman!” She watched him glance around in search of her voice, a hint of apprehension on his handsome face before his eyes landed on her. His tight frown bloomed into a bright smile that sparked a sensation similar to the one last night when she was ‘spying’ on him. The way he walked exuded confidence and power, commanding the space around him, as she noticed, to her chagrin, other women doing double takes as he passed by them. 

"Wassup, neighbor? This seat taken?" he asked.

"Not at all,” she answered, a little too eagerly as he settled down on the opposite side of her bench, keeping a respectable gap between them which allowed her to gawk…respectfully. His dri-fit shorts accentuated the thickness of his thigh muscles that flexed when he shifted, inadvertently drawing her eyes there. She’d seen a lot of him last night and internally she craved more, craved to see exactly what lay underneath. The sunlight enriched his caramel skin, the light sheen of sweat giving him a vibrant glow. Ivy swallowed hard, willing herself to remain composed. “How’s your morning going?” she asked.

“Great, now that I’m talkin’ to you,” Roman smiled at her, leaning back in his seat to admire her in her sports bra and high-waist tights, her afro curls piled high on top of her head. “You look really nice.”

The blush threatened to burn her cheeks as she tugged shyly at her top. “Thanks. It’s just sportswear though.”

“Maybe, but that don’t change what I said,” he insisted, his deep brown eyes deliberately scanning her body. A shiver swept up her spine at the growing intensity as he looked at her. Flustered, she played it off by looking around for Duchess who happened to be just a foot away, racing two other dogs around the canine condo.

“I see you came alone,” Roman observed, “Your little girl alright?”

“She’s good. Sleeping in. She’s been a busy bee all week so she’s earned the rest. We’re gonna make pancakes when I get back.”

“Hmm, sounds delicious. I heard you call her Zaia? Am I right?”

“Correct. It means ‘precious’ in Arabic.” A fond smile fell over her features at the thought of her bright, beautiful little six-year old angel.

Roman nodded, digesting the information. “It's a great name. Pretty, just like her mama’s.” 

Ivy looked away, her grin now bashful. “Here you go again with the compliments.”

“We still on that, huh? You do owe me a couple yourself,” Roman replied with a cute smirk that made her warm all over. “I’m still working on it, tryna find the right time,” she joked.

“Any time is a good time for a compliment.” His smile faltered, his cheery tone hardening slightly, “Unless you’re worried about the boyfriend. He still bein’ a headache?” 

Ivy scoffed. She’d almost forgotten about him. Almost. “He's not my boyfriend. We share a child, that’s it.”

“Oh? He made it pretty clear when he was all over you and then tried to jump me.”

She almost laughed at that. One look at Roman quickly erased any scenario where he could be jumped. “About that…I’m really sorry…he can be a little…assertive sometimes,” she began.

But Roman shook his head, his nose turned up. “Don’t apologize for him. He might be your kid’s father but you’re not responsible for his foolishness.”

Most times he didn’t give her a choice in the matter, forced to deal with the mess afterwards. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she sighed.

“That’s my point. There shouldn’t be a next time,” he replied, staring into her eyes, the sincerity radiating from them unnerving her a little. Her issues with Angelo was the last thing she wanted to talk about, especially with a relative stranger. Thankfully she was given a way out as the playground started to fill up with more people. “Well, I’ve been out long enough. It’s time I headed home,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Duchess! Come here, girl!”

"Cute little puppy. How long have you had her for?" Roman enquired, watching her hook the leash and harness around the puppy.

"About three months. She was Zaia’s birthday present from my friend Gemini. She’ll be eight months old next week. She and Zaia keep me fit with their combined energy," Ivy explained with a laugh, going quiet for a moment. “What happened to your hand, by the way?” She nodded at the white crepe bandage wrapped around his left hand that was peeking through his sleeve. 

Glancing down, he cleared his throat and shifted his hand out of view, seemingly embarrassed by his injury. “Oh. Knife wound. I was meal prepping and accidentally sliced my palm. A little bit of bleeding but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Wow, that must have hurt. I can take a look at it if you want, make sure it’s-”

Roman smiled and waved away her concern. “I know that’s your nurse instincts poppin’ out, but I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty little self. But who knows? Maybe somewhere down the road I might need you for…other things,” he finished with a sly wink.

The lowered bass of his voice had Ivy biting her lip at the blatant innuendo, not missing the way his eyes flickered to her mouth. She grinned sheepishly and shook her head, tugging gently on Duchess’ leash. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to your workout…”

“I’m done, actually, and I’m about to head home. I can drop you off too, if you'd like. I drove here,” Roman offered.

For a split second, she imagined Angelo’s reaction to her pulling up in another man’s car. But the visual was gone as quickly as it surfaced. It was none of his business. “Sure.” 

As they approached the parking lot, her eyes widened as he remotely unlocked the doors to a shiny, sleek black Maserati GranCabrio. “Is that yours? Oh, you ballin’, ballin’,” she remarked, noting the blush creep up his cheeks as he opened the passenger’s door for her. “I do alright,” he mumbled.

“Wow. What do you do? I don’t think I’ve asked.” 

“I’m a Senior Finance Manager at an accounting firm downtown,” he answered, starting the car and letting the top down. “But I also freelance for private individuals, angel investors, pro and college athletes. I mainly work remotely, so you’ll be seeing me at home often.”

Ivy settled in her seat, awed by the lush beige color of the interior, feeling slightly intimidated being inside such an expensive car. “Well, they’re treating you real well,” she said. 

“They’d better, I work my ass off for ‘em,” Roman chortled, backing out of the parking lot. 

Conversation flowed easily on the drive home. Ivy did her best to keep her eyes on the road, but she couldn’t resist taking the occasional peek at Roman while they chatted. She noticed he was doing the same, sprouting more butterflies in her belly. As they pulled up to their street, he killed the engine next to his sidewalk. A tentative silence fell between them that would probably have been suffocating if it weren’t for Duchess’ routine panting. Ivy dared another glance at the big man, the feeling in her stomach intensifying as those gorgeous eyes of his lingered on her again.

“Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it,” she whispered, gathering Duchess in her arms.

Roman smiled. “Not a problem. Tell Zaia I said hi.”

“I will.” Another long look, another grateful grin before she stepped out of the car and crossed the street towards her front door, fully aware that his gaze was still on her, fully aware that she liked his gaze on her. A lot.

However, a deep frown replaced her giddy smile when the door swung open, Angelo standing there, his face like thunder. The darkening of his light eyes as he glanced over her shoulder and the sound of the Maserati’s door slamming shut told her the two men had locked metaphorical horns, the tension pulsing from both sides.

“What the fuck! I know I ain’t just seen you come out of his car,” Angelo hissed.

“Wassup, man. Ivy, you good?” Roman called out behind her. Stoking the fire.

Quick to douse it before it raged, Ivy threw a smile his way. “I’m fine! Thanks again!” Not waiting for a reply, she ushered Angelo back into the house and set Duchess on her feet, the puppy immediately dashing away in search of Zaia. “If you must know, I ran into him at the park and he offered to bring me home,” she explained, entering the kitchen. “I had to apologize to him for that disrespectful crap you pulled yesterday. I get along with all my neighbors and you’re not about to fuck that up for me.”

“Get along, huh? Zaia coulda seen you. How you think that’s gonna look, her mama joyriding with some other dude, huh?” Angelo demanded, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

Incensed, Ivy spun around, glared at him. “Are you using my daughter to gaslight me, Angelo? Seriously?”

“Our daughter, Ivy! You out here lookin’ like a thot and for what? Is that the example you wanna set for our kid? Where’s your sense of self-respect?”

Clearly, the audacity of the man she called her daughter’s father knew no bounds. “Respect?! Like the respect you showed me when you cheated on me?” Ivy countered, crossing her arms, fire in her eyes. “When you only came crawling back because that bitch dumped your slow ass and left for California? When you refused to be in ‘your kid’s’ life until you had a DNA test done, despite your dumbass knowing you’re the only one I was with? Refresh my memory, Angelo!” 

Silence. Deafening. Tense. Truth.

Angelo shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his tone low and exasperated. “Why you keep doin’ this shit, Ivy? How many times do I gotta apologize for that?”

“I don’t want your apology. I don’t need it,” she snapped. “You lost my trust a long time ago and nothing you say or do will ever change that. Period.” She trailed off, focusing on the clock on the wall like she’d learned to rein in her emotions. It was only eight o’clock and she had a headache already. Rinse and repeat. “Don’t you got some conference to be at?” she threw at him, eager for him to be out of her face.

Bristling at her harsh dismissal, Angelo sucked his teeth, snatching his belongings off the countertop. “Ol’ meathead ass gives you some attention and now you got a fucking attitude.” His sigh was heavy and dramatic as he finally, thankfully walked away. Her eyes closed with a sigh of her own, the familiar gnawing in her chest surfacing as she overheard her daughter’s sniffles from the living room pleading with her daddy not to go, him soothing her and promising that he would be back soon. Her heart broke for Zaia, but selfishly, she was glad he was out of her space, even going as far as to wish, yet again, that he could take it one step further and be out of her life, too.

A crime documentary come to life. 

The news reporter stood in the neck of the woods, under the shaded protection of a few giant sequoias and a couple of smaller deciduous trees, a short distance away from a clearing that was cordoned off with caution tape guarded by several uniformed cops. In the background, a body bag was being loaded onto a gurney. The face of the victim splashed across the screen made Ivy’s blood run cold.

She’d seen the young woman, Rhea, just three days ago at the hospital. They didn’t interact, but she was hard to forget with her pale skin, numerous tattoos and goth clothing that stood her out from all the other patients at the Gynecology ward. Never did Ivy imagine she’d be dead just days later. Murdered. The news said she had been reported missing yesterday and was found by a jogger, bound and gagged with her throat slit from ear to ear. The woods were close to the dog park, so to know that such a horrific crime was committed so nearby, while she was out there just this morning with Duchess, sent chills down her spine.

“I’m still in shock,” she confided in her best friend Gemini over FaceTime, adjusting her iPad on her kitchen island. “I remember seeing her in the hospital earlier this week. She was so young, barely in her twenties. Who could have done that to her?”

“That’s what everyone’s trying to figure out,” Gemini said, her expression grim as she lounged on her patio. “I spoke to Officer Gable. He says she was killed in her home then her body was dumped in the woods either last night or early this morning.” She dropped another bombshell. “And get this…this hasn’t been made public yet, but they also found a positive pregnancy test in her backpack.”

Ivy clapped a hand over her mouth, floored. That poor girl was pregnant?! “Oh my god.”  

“I know, it’s wild. They’re looking for her boyfriend, Dominik. Apparently he’s outta town but they’re ruling him as the prime suspect,” Gemini went on, “If you ask me, I think there might be a serial killer on the loose. She’s not the only one that’s turned up dead in the last few months in the surrounding counties.”

If it weren’t for the severity of the situation, Ivy would have rolled her eyes. “What? Gem, don’t start with all that again.”

“Girl, you haven’t been following this like I have. Similar cases happened in the last three months in Fairfield and Middlesex. A couple of twenty-something year old women. Throats slit, dumped in ditches and bushes. The M.O.’s are all the same.”

Casting a quick glance over at the living room where Zaia was dancing with Duchess to ‘The Veggie Dance’ by Gracie’s Corner, Ivy shifted to a quieter side of the kitchen to prevent her baby from overhearing this gruesome conversation. “Well, let’s not jump to conclusions when the police don’t even have all the facts. What does the group think about this?” she asked, referring to the local Neighborhood Watch of which Gemini was a member. In the three years she had lived here, they had only dealt with vandalism and break-ins. To her knowledge, nothing this violent had ever occurred in this harmless, almost sleepy little town, and it spooked Ivy that it happened so close to home.

“We’re having a meeting tomorrow to update everyone and address safety concerns we know will be brought up. Make sure no one’s panicking unnecessarily.” Gemini chuckled at the trepidation on her friend’s face. “Girl, relax. Zaia, Duchess and I will protect you.” There was a brief pause as she stood up from her lounge chair and walked around her backyard pool. “Want me to come over later? I haven’t seen my two babies in a while.”

Enticed by the thought of having company that wasn’t Angelo, Ivy happily replied, “Of course, babe, you never have to ask. How about dinner tonight?” 

“You know I could never say no to your cooking.” Gemini wrinkled her nose. “But if that bitch baby daddy of yours is still lurkin’ then I’ll pass.”

“Nope. He’s away for the weekend,” Ivy assured her.

“When will I hear he’s away for good?” Gemini prodded, her words drawing a sigh of defeat from Ivy. It said a lot that none of her friends got along with Angelo. If she had a dime for every time Gemini warned her to get rid of him, she’d be living in the Hamptons instead. But she understood that she was only looking out for her and she would always appreciate it and reciprocate accordingly.

Beautiful, wisecracking and often cynical, Gemini was a successful, high-powered corporate lawyer with a love for fashion trends and (Ivy called this an obsession) crime and mystery shows that fed into her crazy, oft-amusing conspiracy theories. Like Ivy, she often had it tough with relationships, swearing off men every couple of months. It didn’t help that suitors were usually intimidated by her financial status and her brash, blunt nature. But all of that also came with a heart of gold. Ivy would never forget her hospitality, being the first to welcome her and Zaia with open arms when she first arrived in town. Helping her secure the mortgage on her house. Taking Zaia to the local dog shelter on her birthday and pairing her little girl with the most loyal companion she would probably ever have. She was the life of the party everywhere she went, including Ivy’s household, as she sauntered through her doorstep later that evening with a big bottle of Pinot Noir and an even bigger hug for her favorite niece. The wine was very welcome, as Ivy was forced to abstain around Angelo who was a recovering alcoholic. 

Together, the women moved the food to the dining table, with little Zaia playing her role as the dutiful assistant to her mama and aunt and filling up Duchess’ food and water bowls. As they settled down to eat, a knock on the front door startled them, their heads whipping in its direction. Gemini exchanged a look with Ivy. “Expecting someone else?” 

“No…” With a heightened sense of caution, Ivy crept towards the door and opened it, surprised to see Roman standing behind it. “Hey,” she greeted, a hint of concern in her tone. “What’s up? Everything alright?”

“Hi…wow,” His greeting was distracted, rendered temporarily speechless as he took in her sweater minidress that clung to her generous curves. “Uh…sorry if this is a bad time, but I was wondering if I can borrow some sugar? I’m trying to bake cookies for my office party in the morning and I haven’t got time to run to the store.” Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he continued, “I know it’s cliche as hell, but I thought I’d come over and ask since your cooking smells so delicious.” 

Corny request or not, it was way too charming to turn down. Not that she would. “Mr. Compliments does it again. Come on in.” She motioned for him to follow her inside and into the warm, homey atmosphere of her kitchen. His eyes glossed over the spread of food on the table, then fell upon the two other sets of eyes staring back at him, one innocent, the other suspicious. “I see I’ve interrupted dinner, sorry about that, ladies,” he said, a demure, friendly smile gracing his lips as he waved.

Gemini got to her feet, almost burning a hole through this stranger with her sharp gaze. “Ivy, who is this?” she demanded with an attitude, making Ivy shake her head behind Roman’s back. Her friend always had a hard time warming up to new people.

“Gem, this is Roman, my new neighbor. He moved across the street a couple of days ago. Roman, this is my friend Gemini,” she introduced them, watching Roman extend his hand, the other woman hesitating for a long beat before shaking it. “Hi, Gemini. Nice to meet you.”

Gemini gave him a tight smile. “Hi. So you’re the one who got that big ass house.”

Well, that went as well as it could have.

“Zaia, wanna say hello to Mr Roman?” Ivy encouraged her daughter. The little girl cocked her head to the side, and Roman noticed how much she resembled Ivy at that moment. “Hello, Mr Roman. You’re really tall,” she pointed out, her eyes filled with awe. 

“Thank you Zaia, I get that a lot,” he laughed, crouching down to pet Duchess who had bounded over happily, recognizing him from earlier this morning. Ivy rummaged through her walnut kitchen cabinets looking for the bag of sugar she had purchased a month or two ago. Locating it, she handed it to Roman along with a small-sized cookbook. “Here. You can use as much as you need. And I earmarked the page for the recipe for chocolate chip cookies, in case you need it.”

“You are so kind. I appreciate that,” said Roman, his deep brown eyes shifting downwards shyly. The subtle action did something to her, compelling her to utter next,

“Would you like to stay for dinner? We’re having Cajun chicken pasta and Caesar salad,” she spoke up, ignoring the look Gemini leveled at her. It was the way his eyes softened right away, clearly touched by her gesture, that let her know she did the right thing.

“I’d love to.” His smile lit up the room, warming Ivy’s heart. This was her house. She could invite anyone she wanted. Attraction aside, Roman seemed like a really sweet guy that just needed new friends in this new town.

In no time though, he and Zaia became fast friends, discussing everything from their favorite cartoons and hobbies to their favorite subjects at school, and the rather funnier topic of why the adults could have wine and she couldn’t. Even Gemini seemed to warm up to him over the course of dinner, also seduced by his charm and wit. Watching them all talking and laughing caused a funny sensation to stir within Ivy, but she banished any wayward thoughts before they had the chance to settle. 

Afterwards, Roman began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Ivy to rush over before he could move too far. “Er, no booboo. You’re a guest here.” She turned to her daughter. "Baby, why don't you take your fruit salads to the living room and turn on the TV for Mr Roman?” she suggested.

“Yes, ma’am! Come on, Mr Roman.” Zaia’s little fingers closed around his thick forearm, Roman briefly glancing back at her mother as he was all but dragged away, Ivy simply giving him a reassuring smile as they disappeared from the kitchen.

“You like him.” 

Never one to beat around the bush, was she? Gemini’s words shook Ivy inwardly as she fought to maintain a poker face. “Girl, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days.”

“And he likes you,” Gemini continued, easily rebuffing her lame excuses. “I saw the way y’all kept looking at each other, you giggling like a damn school girl at his jokes. You could cut the tension with a damn steak knife. I wonder how Angelo’s gonna feel about that.”

Ivy raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about Angelo’s feelings?” 

“Never. But I bet he’d combust into flames if he was here,” Gemini smiled evilly.

Sighing heavily, Ivy loaded the last plate in the dishwasher. “Do you know he got into it with Roman on the first day? A whole shouting match. Barely twenty-four hours since the new neighbor moved in and he’s already fighting the guy. This was just me kinda trying to make up for it.”

“What?! I’d love to see that fight. My money’s on the dude that looks like a linebacker.” The stretch of silence that followed was ominous, and Ivy could already forecast her next words. “I’ll admit. He seems…nice. Sexy as hell. Charming and all that shit. But I need you to be careful, hun. There's an energy about him that I can’t put my finger on.”

Unsure she was ready for this lecture, Ivy rubbed her temples. “Judgmental much? You only just met him.”

“I’m good at reading people. You know this.”

“And I’m just being a good neighbor. You know this.”

“I do. You can’t help yourself, my sweet, wonderful bestie,” Gemini playfully nudged her friend with her shoulder. “But don’t forget you have a young daughter to look out for. I don’t want either of you to get hurt by getting too close too fast.”

Taking in a calming breath, Ivy spoke again, slow and measured to keep the peace. “Gem. I love you and I appreciate you always. But I’ll be okay. I promise,” she answered, her eyes shining with resolve.

As the two women continued to gossip, Roman stood silently by the entrance of the kitchen, his expression unreadable as he listened to every word.

Another long, tough week segued to another weekend of needed rest which found Ivy relaxing in her newly purchased hanging daybed, watching her daughter and her puppy play together as 2000s R&B tunes wafted through the Bluetooth speakers stationed in her backyard. However, her watchful eye was a bit distracted today as it kept glancing over her picket fence for any sign of Roman, who seemed to have vanished without a trace in the past few days. His outdoor chairs remained unoccupied, no coffee mug on his side tables, the house as quiet and empty as it was before he moved in. The serial killer discourse with Gemini and the feedback from the Neighborhood Watch had her feeling slightly more agitated these days, and as absurd as it was, she found herself hoping that her new neighbor hadn’t suffered the same fate as Rhea…

There was no need to worry. Maybe he was caught up with work, or was away visiting friends or family. Either way, she found herself missing his looming yet comforting presence, missed seeing the crinkles around his eyes that accompanied his sunny smile, longed for the longing glances they’d shared far too many times to count now... 

Blowing out her cheeks, she leaned back and closed her eyes, hoping to clear her head. For someone who she just met, he was on the brain way too much. She hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a long time and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. At all.

“Hi Mr Roman!”

Zaia’s excited voice, as well as the deep one that followed her daughter’s greeting, startled her from her thoughts as her eyes flew back open, landing on his big frame as he stood at the fence that separated their homes. Ivy rose to her feet, trying to ignore the relief, excitement and nervousness bubbling inside her as she approached him slowly, their eyes locked. Other than the bags forming under his irises, he was still as handsome as ever, his cable-knit sweater and dark jeans giving off that polished, modelesque aesthetic she’d become accustomed to.

“Hey, pretty lady,” he said to her, the sound of his voice deep and soothing and sorely missed.

“Hey, stranger. Been a minute. Are you okay?” she asked, getting her answer from the way he dragged a big hand down his face with a loaded sigh. She noticed the bandage was gone. “How’s your hand?”

“Good as new.” Roman lifted his now bare hand and rotated it for emphasis. “As for my absence, just work stuff. Back-to-back late hours. It be like that sometimes. I hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He met her stare with a knowing smile, the same smile that made her swoon since the day they first met, and not the first time had her averting her gaze, tugging coyly at the hem of her retro Backstreet Boys t-shirt. 

“I never got to properly thank you for dinner, and for the cookie recipe,” he continued, “It was a big hit at the office, everyone loved it.”

Ivy beamed. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Man, you saved my ass, that’s for sure. You’ve been so wonderful to me, Ivy, and I was hoping I could repay it by taking you out to dinner sometime.” Gauging her raised eyebrows, he chuckled softly as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Ay, I woulda stayed home and cooked somethin’, but my skills could never measure up to yours or my wife’s.”

Wife.

This was the first time he’d mentioned a spouse of any kind. There was no ring on his finger, so there was a story there, one she felt compelled to know more about.

“Your wife…Is she not here with you?” she asked, treading lightly on what she could already tell was a sensitive subject.

Roman was silent for a moment, then when he spoke again, his voice was a little more than a hoarse whisper. “Nah, she isn't. She, uh, passed away last year.”

That explained it. The haunted expression she perceived lurking behind the vibrance of his eyes. Carrying the burden of grief and heartbreak that she empathized with more than he would ever know. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

Clearing his throat, he managed a nod, returning the sincere look she gave him. “Thanks. It’s been…rough, to say the least. But I’m hangin’ in there. One day at a time, ya know?”

He looked so sad, so worn down by opening up about his loss, and it tugged at her heartstrings. Without thinking, she reached out to rub his arm, offering him comfort, solace. When his eyes shut at her touch, she feared she had toed a line, crossed it, even. Until he opened them again, the sadness wiped away by a searing heat she felt in her bones. Her heart raced as he shifted their hands to link their fingers together, sending a defibrillator’s worth of electricity through her curvy figure. Fuck. He was looking at her that way again. All intense and serious and sexy and all sorts of tempting. She didn’t want him to ever look away. 

There was no denying the mutual attraction that simmered between them. It was clear as day. But it was also clear that he was still grieving and was lonely and craved some semblance of comfort. Yet, she found herself wanting to give him that comfort. She wanted to get to know him. She wanted to jump over the fence and into his sturdy arms, wanted to kiss those soft-looking lips of his. To know what his hair felt like between her fingers…

How she missed it, she wasn’t sure. The roar of the engine of the Lexus pulling into the driveway, the owner of the vehicle storming through her house. She’d been so lost in Roman and in his aura and the intimate moment they were sharing that she hadn’t even heard Angelo barreling into her home like he always did until he was standing in front of them. Her deer-in-the-headlights countenance could not have helped her cause as Angelo looked from her to Roman and then back again, zoning in on their entwined hands, the bewilderment on his face giving way to blind wrath. 

“Motherfucker, I thought I told you to stay away from my girl!” Swiping Ivy aside with enough force to send her crashing against the fence, he shoved Roman hard in the chest, knocking him a few steps back. “Oh I see what this is! You wanna fuck my woman, huh?” 

“Angelo stop!” Ivy yelled as in the distance, Zaia began to cry. Grimacing through her pain, she tugged him by the arm and dragged him forcibly away, which was a tough task as he was nearly a foot taller than her, outweighed her by a good fifty pounds and vibrated with misplaced rage. Glancing behind her, she watched with an almost morbid fascination as Roman’s disposition completely shifted, his gorgeous face twisted with unbridled fury. 

“You put your fucking hands on me?!” In what seemed like slow motion, the much bigger and much taller man leapt smoothly over her fence like it was nothing. He propelled forwards with long strides like an angry bull across her backyard and into her house in a matter of seconds. “A’ight, I’m tired of being humble! You wanna fuss like a lil’ bitch, let’s go!” 

Guiding Zaia and Duchess to safety, Ivy’s anxiety reached a fever pitch as the two men stood literally nose to nose sizing each other up in the middle of her living room. “Guys, please! Zaia’s here!” she pleaded.

Angelo puffed out his chest as he eyeballed his adversary smugly. “Don’t get yourself hurt cuz you tryna comfort my bitch or my kid when I ain’t around. You in my house, fool,” he threatened.

Thick eyebrows raised in cruel amusement, Roman looked around the house. “Funny, I don’t see your name or your face anywhere.” He leaned in closer, his next words loud enough for only the other man to hear, “But pretty soon, your bitch gon’ be screamin’ my name and sittin’ on my face,” he bragged, pointing at his chin, hoping, praying that the punk bitch would take the bait. 

Too easy.

With teeth bared, Angelo swung at him. Wildly and carelessly enough for Roman to dodge easily and retaliate with his huge fist smashing into the other man’s face. There was an ugly cracking sound, and blood spurted from Angelo’s nose as his head snapped back and he stumbled backwards.

“Stop it! Stop it right now!” Ivy cried, but it was to no avail as Angelo lunged again, crashing into Roman. She threw herself between them, trying and woefully failing to pull the warring men apart who were seeing nothing but red as they beat the crap out of each other.

“Daddy, stop fighting! You’re gonna hurt Mama!”

Zaia, bless her brave little heart, was at her father’s side, tugging desperately on his sleeve. It all happened so fast, Ivy only able to see the moment Angelo lashed out blindly, his hand smacking Zaia right in the face. Her scream of pain as her little body collapsed on the ground pierced the air, plunging the room into stone cold silence.

“Mama!” Zaia burst into fresh tears as she clutched her face with one hand, the other reaching out to Ivy who quickly rushed over, scooping her into her arms and gently cradling her little head as she wailed loudly and clutched at Ivy for dear life.

A bloodied Angelo clambered to his feet, visibly devastated by his mistake. “Baby…Princess, I’m so sorry…Daddy didn't mean—”

“No! Don’t touch her!” Ivy snapped, backing away. Enough was enough. “I told you to stop. I told you!” Grasping her baby carefully, she glowered at him through unshed tears of anger. “Get the fuck out of my house! Now!” she hissed.

Swallowing hard, Angelo edged forwards again, his eyes full of regret and focused on his daughter sobbing into her mother's shoulder. “Zaia-”

“I said get out!” Ivy shouted again, feeling for the first time in a long time, nothing but disgust towards her ex-boyfriend. “I’ve had enough of your childish bullshit, enough of you!” She hated cursing in front of her baby girl, but her father had pushed her to her absolute limit. “Leave and never come back. You’re not welcome here anymore.” He could perform his fatherly duties from across town. Today was the last day he was setting foot in this house. 

Stunned, his face contorted indignantly at her words. “You playin’, right? You seriously gonna do this? It was an accident! Zaia, come here. Come to Daddy,” He extended his hands towards his daughter, his features sagging in dismay when she burrowed deeper into Ivy’s bosom, refusing to look at her dad as her sniffles intensified. 

“She asked you to leave. Several times.” Roman towered over Angelo menacingly, his big body shielding Ivy and Zaia. “Don’t make her repeat it again.” 

Angelo tilted his chin defiantly. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you deal with me. I’ll be happy to whoop your ass again,” Roman said simply, silently daring the son of a bitch to make a wrong move. 

“Baby, you trippin’. That’s my daughter! This meathead nigga needs to know that he’s oversteppin’! You’re mine!”

“No I’m not!” Her reply was cold and exhausted. “We’ve been over for years, Angelo! Get that into your thick skull and get out of my life!”

Scoffing snidely, the man’s blood-stained sneer was a frightening visual as he walked backwards out the front door, talking his shit on his way to his car. “You’re not keepin’ me away from my child. You need me, Ivy. You’ll come crawling back,” he growled, then pointed angrily at Roman, “And whoever the fuck you think your bitch ass is, bet, I’mma see about you...”

Roman stood in the driveway, muscular arms crossed over his torn, blood-stained sweater, watching like a hawk as the piece of shit backed out onto the road and drove off. He looked down at Ivy to his left. “Are you oka-”

But she had already retreated into the safety of her house, slamming the door shut. Roman returned his attention to the Lexus driving down the street, silently vowing that today would be the last time Angelo would ever be seen again.

Thanks for reading and thanks again to this anon for the story idea. Your replies and reblogs would be much appreciated if you enjoyed!

Please join our TBND tag list here ❤️

🏷️: @harmshake @visionarymode @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @thewarlordsworld

@dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @iguessilikewrestlingnow

@purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @tribalhoochie @wrestlingprincess80

@papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @unfriendly--blvck--hottie

@theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills

@theglamclosetsl @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @crxssjae

@twocentuar @surdelcielo @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee

@joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa

@megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez @christinabae

@raya-hunter01 @lilucey @aisharmi @neverlookatthisblog @dayaimonee @nayys-world

@kianaleani @digidestned @marasdeathnote @msbluehaz3 @hunnidmilly

@worldwidehoodrat @ariiaeltheedonn @wanderingreigns @sisinever @jaza23

@wrestlingbaby @amandairene88 @romanreignsbae @li-da-savage @thickbihhwitdagapp

@cry1nwhileimcumm1n @2-muchsauce @usoholic @dontcomplicateit @rihanna0607

@jimingotthajams @happy-princes @nymphobabyyx @authenticallymisfitted @sageispunk

@bxrbie1 @octaviastargirl @skyesthebomb @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @blueki16

@slutouttanowhere @zabwlky1999 @ayeeitsali @shamaness1171 @mainlyy-danae @mzv11

@misslackey @sayyestoheav3nn @dyttomori @dyttomori02 @kat3457

@zillasvilla @smile1318 @prettyfilmz @trippinsorrows @romansthrone

@wwecrazed2010 @xbriexx @ashyknee @katrinnnn @thedondada05

@shes2real @aldrigmer444 @rose-bliss @jxtina-86 @that-one-anxious-mango

@fearlesschimera @kuromiish @vampygomez @tshepisho @magnificentbouquetmusic

@disc0fairy @prettybitxhnica @mellybandzz @blveeeeeee @taytropicana @planetch1ld @mayasopinions @tribalchief2112 

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @n-o-v-a-caine @sexyblacksimper @paigereeder

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 6 with Sanji Character Sheet

Main Themes: Villain Sanji, Alternate Universe, Zosan Ship

Warning: Long post ahead with One Piece spoilers. Contains strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

In the wealthier district of Sabaody Archipelago, Zoro perches on the roof of a tall bell tower. From afar, he carefully watches a squad of royal guards lead slaves that are carrying two individuals on their backs all the way from Sabao Dome. They finally stop at a particularly large mansion behind high iron gates and thick brick walls. Inside, there is a polished garden that has thick ivies climbing up to the very top of the marble facade of the main building. The slaves set down the heavy carrier by the entrance, then the Celestial Dragon ushers Sanji into his house. The swordsman sighs in disappointment, silently cursing the situation at hand. He’d hoped to have an opening where he can nab the blonde while they’re outside but it never came to, given how many guards there were.

Law continues to speak on the line of his transponder snail.

Law

Don't do anything stupid. Wait for us and just keep tabs on the line.

Zoro

No. No matter what you do, stay away. I don’t think they’ve linked you guys with Curls yet and I'd rather it stay that way. Have you got the rest of the Heart Pirates with you?

Law

They arrived about five minutes ago. They’re…not happy to say the least.

Zoro hears several familiar voices in the background, begging the swordsman for forgiveness and crying out for Sanji to come back safely.

Law

So what now, swordsman? How do you plan to infiltrate the most heavily guarded holiday house in Sabaody Archipelago by yourself? You need my power. It'll take seconds to get him out as soon as I get there.

Zoro

I said, no. Look, these guys don't joke around. If they see you somehow cause trouble for any World Nobles, they'll send an Admiral to hunt you down until you're dead or imprisoned. If I think he's going to do what I think he intends to do, he very well may be turning the entire world against him. 

Law

And…what's that?

Zoro

I think he wants to kill the Celestial Dragon.

—

It was easy enough to hurdle the initial gates, but staying hidden in the enclosed area is proving to be just as difficult as he expected. Zoro can’t rely on staying on the ground as there are too many patrols. And he can’t break inside the mansion from above because that would mean jumping from a far distance and landing with a bang, then dealing with guards on the floor anyway. He decides to push through the only and the most annoying option he has left.

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, he shimmies up the mansion walls, silently praying that the thick ivy vines and trellises that he’s holding onto don't give into his weight. He's never been a fan of stealth missions or anything that required subtlety. Through the windows, he sees Sanji and the Celestial Dragon walking along a corridor and into a room. He follows, traversing through the climbing plants. He stops just under a balcony of the room where he assumed they had gone. He wraps his limbs around one of its support pillars and waits for any sign to see if he was right.

Sanji

Saint Charlos, my dear, I'll need a second to freshen up.

Saint Charlos

Of course! Don’t be long.

There was the sound of a click, presumably the door closing. Zoro jumps and grabs onto the platform above him. He carefully raises himself, enough to peek through the gaps of the balcony’s balustrades. He worriedly looks around when he realises that there’s no one in the open room, so pulls himself up further, shoving a foot between the railing.

Suddenly, a face pokes up in front of him.

Sanji

Hi~

Zoro’s hands slip. He tries to recover himself by flailing his arms around but to no avail. He falls backwards.

Zoro

ACK–!

Sanji snatches him by the collar of his open robe and pulls him back. Zoro takes the opportunity to grab onto the top railing and the blonde’s outstretched arm. He hooks his other foot between another set of balustrades, finally able to get some semblance of stability.

Sanji speaks in a whisper.

Sanji

My god, you are terrible at this. I could hear you shuffling around behind the walls. I had to compensate a lot for you, you know.

Zoro

What–?

Sanji covers his mouth with his other hand, practically slapping it. He tuts, shaking his head.

Sanji

Too loud. But…I can’t help but think how romantic this all is. It’s very sweet of you to put yourself in danger and come all this way, Zoro. You’re not worried about me, are you?

For some reason, the sound of his name coming from the blonde gives Zoro butterflies in his stomach. He blinks dumbly a couple of times, then slaps Sanji’s hand out of his mouth.

Zoro

Curls, we don't have time for this. We have to go now.

Sanji

What, why? I'm in the middle of a heist here. A heist! For money! We're pirates–we like money! Actually, you can clear our way out. At the eastern side there’s a hidden passage that they use as an escape route for emergencies. I've been told it's under a big willow tree. I want you to find it and make sure there are no guards on the way out in two hours. 

Zoro

Two…? Fuck that. Let’s just–

Sanji

You can manage that, can’t you? You know which side is east, right? He won’t know what hit him until we’re way out of here. He’s far too rich to notice anything missing. I’ll have the money and some when I’m through, I promise. 

Zoro

What? Is this really just about…? Curls, this isn't worth it. We can just stick to Traffy’s plan.

Sanji places a finger on Zoro’s lips then gives him a warm smile. The swordsman didn’t realise that the hand that gripped his collar is now splayed over his chest.

Sanji

Shh…too loud. And just…can you just give me a sec to take this in? Please?

Zoro furrows his brows in confusion and looks around, trying to make sense of what the blonde is talking about. Then it dawns on him.

It’s just like what he’d seen on the covers of those romantic books about forbidden love. It’s where the suitor breaks in just for a chance to see his beloved by the windowsill. He played the brave man standing outside on the balcony, trying to win his love’s affection, and Sanji is the girl in a fine dress that he’d been chasing. The cool wind blows calmly through them, giving Zoro the rare chance to see both of Sanji’s eyes up close, bright and blue, looking back at him longingly.

Sanji

Can I try something?

Sanji gently cups both sides of Zoro’s face in his hands then pulls him in, his lips just hovering over Zoro’s own. He pauses there, as if giving the swordsman a chance to back off.

Zoro’s head tells him that he should push him away. By all accounts, with everything that they’ve been through and everything that he’d seen him do, he should be repulsed by this.

But his heart screamed louder at that moment. He finds himself unable to move away. Instead, his open eyelid droops down.

Sanji moves in and places his lips lightly onto his. He parts himself away for a second to look Zoro in the eye, carefully assessing his reaction. When the swordsman tips forwards ever so slightly, he takes the hint. He angles his head and clashes their mouths together.

They start their exchange gently, taking in each other’s sensations. When Sanji teases a tongue between Zoro’s lips, it quickly becomes frantic and desperate. They deepen their kiss as their hands keenly seek and explore each other’s skins, sliding under fabrics of clothing and grasping whatever they can in an attempt to pull themselves closer together.

Finally, Sanji forces himself to pull away before it gets too messy, leaving a trail of spit stretching between their tongues. Zoro couldn’t help but follow the momentum as he craved for more. They both take a second to catch their breaths. The swordsman looks into the blonde’s eyes again, then down to his mouth, trying to process what just happened. The feeling of the softness of his lips and the taste of his tongue on his own linger still.

Zoro

That was…

Sanji smiles fondly and lets out a light-hearted chuckle. He wipes the stain of his lipstick off Zoro’s lips, leaning back slightly to admire the strong features of his face while cleaning any proof of his makeup.

Sanji

Zoro… I…

Zoro slides his hands from Sanji's forearms up to his shoulders, then wraps his hands gently around the back of his neck.

Zoro

Curls…don't kill him.

Sanji's smile fades quickly, then he looks at the swordsman in confusion. His expression turns sour.

Sanji

You're trying to protect them…?

Zoro

No! I–

Sanji pushes Zoro by the chest, jerking himself away, taking backward steps.

Zoro fumbles but manages to catch the top railing of the balcony just in time before he could lose his balance.

Zoro

It's not like that! Curls, I am here because I…. Look, if you kill him, they'll send every Admiral and Warlord to get you and I might not be able to protect you from them. They'll send Mihawk.

Sanji

You think I need your protection? You? The person who's been trying to kill me for–

Suddenly, blood bursts out of his nose, staining the front half of his dress.

Zoro

Woah–!

Sanji

–the fuck?!

Sanji cups his hands over his face and runs inside, looking around clumsily for any piece of cloth to stop the bleeding and to clean himself with. Finally he finds facial tissues stashed on a dresser at the far end of the room.

There was a knock on the door. Zoro was about to hurdle over the railing to help the blonde but quickly skirts the balustrade to hide behind the outer wall instead.

Saint Charlos

Everything okay, princess?

Sanji

Y–yes, dear! Don’t come in yet. I’ll be there soon!

The door bursts open regardless. Saint Charlos saunters in.

Saint Charlos

Are you alright? I thought I heard–why are you bleeding?

Sanji

Of course I am. I’m in the house of a mighty World Noble after all. One has to work up the bravery just to be by your side, Your Grace. Nervous jitters.

Saint Charlos

Ah, I see. There's no shame in admitting it. I am magnificent, especially compared to someone like you. Come on then, my slaves will clean you up.

The Celestial Dragon lays a hand on Sanji’s lower back, ushering him through the door where he came from.

Sanji steals a glance behind him, only to find that there’s no one in the room. He uses his haki but can't seem to sense anyone’s presence. He returns his gaze forwards, feeling torn about the whole ordeal.

—

Thick clouds darken the skies and the rain starts pouring heavily. From under the refuge of an especially large willow tree, Zoro looks up and adjusts his hood frustratingly, trying to keep himself dry. His leg twitches restlessly. He keeps thinking about his last interaction with the blonde and tries to make sense of his own actions. He should hate the guy, but he can no longer deny his attraction to him. When he blinks, he realises that he's running his fingers across his lips, unable to shake the lingering sensation of their shared contact. The worst part is, he didn’t hate anything about it at all, nor did he realise that he had any regrets. He grips onto Wado's handle to keep his hands occupied.

He looks down on the trapdoor located just under the tree trunk, silently praying that the tunnel through it is the correct one that Sanji had instructed him to find. He won't, of course, admit to the other man that he'd gone the complete opposite direction initially. Of course he didn't have much luck looking for any secret passages that way. He just kept wandering around until he found an easy pick royal guard to intimidate so he could show him the way and that's how he ended up here. He almost felt sorry for the poor fellow when he rendered him unconscious and dumped his body somewhere hard to find.

The swordsman quietly wonders to himself if the Sanji had anticipated this kerfuffle, and that's why he had given him two whole hours instead of a shorter duration.

He’s lost track of the exact time, but he’s certain that it’s coming close to the two hour mark that the blonde had set. From afar, Zoro tries to look through the mansion window to check on the grandfather clock he’d been watching, but the rain is so heavy now that it clouded his vision of the landscape, barely able to make the silhouette of the house from where he sat.

The swordsman concentrates on his observation haki, detecting five presences running towards him. He stands and draws two blades, ready to strike.

The group of people come to a halt as soon as they see Zoro up close. They gasp in fear and hold each other's hands. They all have tattered clothes and no shoes, and around their necks are fresh purple and yellow bruises. The swordsman recognises two of the men as the ones that carried the Celestial Dragon and Sanji all the way from Sabao Dome but it looks like they had lost their collars.

When he looks down, he sees a small figure trembling madly behind them. A child with an angry red mark on his chest, shaped like a dragon’s claw, exactly like the one on Sanji’s back. His tan skin isn't textured like normal human skin, but instead, has an iridescent shine to it. On the sides of his face where his ears should be are fins covering a set of gills.

Man 1

That scar and the hair…. It’s–it’s the Demon Warlord–Roronoa Zoro!

Woman 1

What…what do we do? I thought Your Highness said that this path is clear?

Woman 2

The Warlord must be working for the Celestial Dragons and has come to stop us!

The swordsman frowns at that statement. He wonders if he's done the right thing all these years, which is a question that's come up quite a lot since starting this mission to find Corazon.

Man 2

Please–please have mercy! Junior here has never seen light! Just let him go, and w–we’ll stay!

Man 1

No, we've seen what they all do to people like us. We're all dead anyway, but I'd rather die fighting! Son, make a run for it!

The man recklessly charges in with a makeshift shiv in his hand. He lunges at Zoro, who steps aside and trips him with the blunt side of one of his swords. The man falls on his face.

Merchild

Dad, no!!!

The merchild ducks between the other people’s legs and charges angrily. He uses his webbed fists to throw punches against Zoro’s stomach.

Merchild

You hurt him!!

Zoro stares at the small figure and senses that the others are shaking in fear, too frozen and afraid to move. He raises his swords–

The others cry out–

–and sheathes his blades back on his hips. He kneels down to catch the child’s fists with his hands and speaks calmly. 

Zoro

Did the Pirate King free you?

The first man pushes himself up by the elbows on the ground and spits at him.

Man 1

Don’t hurt him!

Merchild

So what if he did?! He’s a kind man and you’re–you’re–

Zoro lets go of the merchild.

Zoro

Your punches are making my belly itchy, that’s all.

The merchild blinks at him, but stops his assault.

Zoro offers a hand to the man he’d tripped.

Zoro

If you’re looking for the way out, it’s just through that trapdoor behind me. We don’t have a lot of time so grab the torch I set up inside and run. Just be careful, I’m not quite certain what you’ll find on the other side of the tunnel.

There was a moment of silence. It takes a second for the group of people to fully realise that the feared Warlord is on their side. The man on the ground takes Zoro’s hand and the swordsman lifts him onto his feet.

Merchild

Dad!!!

The family reunites. They hug affectionately.

Woman 1

You’re…you’re helping us?

Man 2

We know what’s on the other side. I know where we can find a sloop to get out of this island.

Zoro

That’s not a bad idea. That way we can protect you outside too. Just make sure to stay low and quiet until we get back. Do you know where the Pirate King is now?

Woman 2

He said he’s off to the treasure room and then he’d meet us on the way out but…that was about half an hour ago. We thought he’d caught up to us by then so we just ran out ourselves as soon as we could use the rain for cover.

Zoro nods as thanks and proceeds to walk towards the mansion.

—

Not far from the house, a group of royal guards surround a hunched figure wrapped in a large curtain taken from one of the windows inside. The soldiers charge in one after another, relentlessly attacking with weapons on hand. The figure dodges left and right, occasionally taking swipes against them. The figure knocks back clusters of them each time, but in its weakened state, it’s not enough to take them out. They simply stand on their feet again and begin another round of assault.

A royal guard spears right through the figure from behind.

Sanji’s eyes jolt open, the pain that sears through his chest becomes unbearable when the guard twists the weapon while it's inside him then pulls it out forcefully. He screams, his voice breaking. While overwhelmed, he senses another guard somewhere on his left side swing his sword low, slicing the tendons on both his ankles, dropping him to his knees. He readies himself for another direct blow from a guard wielding a heavy mace right in front of him. Over the guard’s shoulder, he sees glints of three lines shine through the mist of the rain.

There was a heavy gush of wind and a flash of green. Sanji was in too much pain to fully understand what's going on but he could hear the clashing of blades and cries for help around him.

Zoro

Three Swords Style…Tatsu Maki!

A powerful whirlwind forms around the swordsman and Sanji, effectively blowing and damaging the royal guards in its wake. They fly up high in the air and fall roughly on the ground, knocking them out. The one who landed right in front of the blonde somehow stayed awake. The guard writhes and attempts to get up, but Sanji throws a heavy punch reinforced with armament haki across his head, cracking his skull. The blonde speaks in a difficult, huffed breath.

Sanji

I…had it all…under control…Shitty Mosshead.

He tips forwards.

Zoro runs, sheathing his swords and catches the blonde before he falls on the ground. When he angles him back, the curtain that wrapped around him slips off his body. The swordsman gapes in horror, shocked at the sight.

Sanji’s dress had been torn to shreds. He’s practically naked under the curtain cover. His heels are nowhere to be found, only having his bare feet to walk with. He has a deep puncture through his upper chest and a nasty cut across his ankles–both fresh and bleeding from the fight just now. The full lengths of his arms are reddened and scratched. One side of his body has a large purple bruise that spans from his ribs right through to his back. He also can’t help but notice evidence of trauma and a messy cluster of teeth marks along his inner thigh towards his groin. As horrendous as the sight of his wounds may be, the worst detail that the swordsman can see is the large metal clamp that hangs around Sanji’s neck. He recognises them as a slave’s chain.

Sanji

Take a picture. It’ll last longer.

Zoro

…Did he do this to you?

Sanji doesn't move or reply. His hair had become heavily damp in the rain, covering his face. When Zoro dips down slightly, he sees the blonde's lips trembling over gritted teeth. He can't tell if the stream running down his nose is from the rain or from his eyes.

Zoro

Did you kill him?

Slowly, Sanji shakes his head.

Zoro’s eye narrows. He feels his hands tighten their hold on Sanji. A pang of guilt washes over him, remembering their conversation earlier.

Sanji

But I made sure that he can't hurt anyone anymore.

Zoro's hands relax.

Zoro

…Good.

Surprised, Sanji lifts his head to look at the swordsman.

Sanji

Just…”good”? You're not going to ask me what I did?

Zoro

Knowing you, it's probably something unpleasant. I'd rather not know.

Zoro notices the curtains that the blonde had used for cover have fallen on the damp grass underneath him, completely soaked in the rain. He removes his own cloak and wraps the blonde in it, making sure that the hood covers his head before scooping him up into his arms.

—

With one of the men holding out a fiery torch, the liberated slaves lead on through the dark winding passageway while Zoro carefully carries Sanji in his arms behind them. He guesses that they’re inside one of the Sabaody Archipelago’s giant roots, hollowed out so that anyone walking through can potentially cross the entire length of the island without anyone knowing. He starts worrying where they may end up but he trusts the people guiding them, simply because there’s no other choice. They all want one thing–to get out of this place alive.

The swordsman is well aware of others’ subtle glances and pitiful looks at the Pirate King but he tries to ignore them to keep his senses focused on monitoring the blonde’s heart rate and breathing. Sanji’s been falling in and out of consciousness and it’s starting to worry him more each time. He wishes his reindeer friend is with them. He’d know what to do.

Zoro dares a peek at the collar around Sanji’s neck. He frowns at the sight then tears his gaze away.

Zoro

You don’t…happen to have a key for this, do you? Or know how to get it out another way?

Man 1

I’m so sorry… it was him who somehow got his hands on one to get us out but we don’t know what happened to it when we parted ways. The last time I saw him, he didn’t have anything around his neck.

Woman 1

It must have happened when he went to the treasure room. We don’t know how to take it off without the right key. We would have already tried to escape if–

Den-den Mushi

Purupurupurupuru

Everyone jumps at the sound, clearly on edge from the potential dangers that could come their way at any second. They all turn to Zoro who fumbles around, trying to answer the transponder snail while carrying the blonde.

Sanji had woken up from the sound and feebly reached inside Zoro’s open robe. He pulls out the den-den mushi from his breast pocket and holds it out for him in his hand, pressing the button on its shell to answer the call.

Zoro

Hello?

Law

Zoro-ya, it's been…

…where are…y…

…did you get…

…there’s news about…

Sanji looks up to the ceiling then around them. He speaks in a weak voice.

Sanji

We’re probably in the dense area of the root system. It’s interfering with the signal.

Zoro

Traffy, you’re breaking up. Can you hear us?

Law

…they know you’re…

…Pacifistas heading your way…

…need to…

…before Admiral…

Zoro

Tra-guy, we have a friend on Grove 44. Duval of the Flying Fish Riders. I want you to meet us at their base if you can.

Law, if you can hear me, go to–

Den-Den Mushi

Click

Zoro tuts disappointingly at the lost signal.

Woman 2

Pa–Pacifistas?!

Woman 1

Wait–a Marine Admiral is coming too?! To get us?!?

The people around them start shaking uncontrollably in panic. The merchild holds onto his dad’s leg desperately.

Zoro sighs but gestures for them to keep moving forward.

Zoro

Let’s pick up the pace. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds us and I'd rather not get caught up in here. We’d get trapped and surrounded pretty easily.

Sanji returns the snail inside Zoro’s inner breast pocket then gives the others a small smile in an attempt to ease their minds.

Sanji

Don’t worry about the Pacifistas for now. We’re not in any danger until they see us. They’re too reliant on their visuals. As for the Admirals…lazy bunch, all of them. Too slow to act. Besides, my friend here will protect us from harm I’m sure. You said you know where we can find a sloop?

Man 2

Y–yes!

The word “friend” echoes in Zoro’s head.

—

They continue their walk in silence, at an increased pace this time. Zoro didn't want to have them running at full speed in fear that it would open up Sanji’s wounds further. Instead, they had to take longer rushed strides.

In one of the brief moments when the blonde is conscious, he breaks the silence by starting a light-hearted conversation, brightening the troubled mood of the crowd.

Sanji

I got loot like I promised. It’s not exactly money but we can sell it for a lot. The surgeon’s going to freak.

Zoro's serious and tense expression softens. He holds the blonde closer, tucking Sanji’s head between the nook of his neck and shoulder after he notices that his body is cold and shivering.

Zoro

I never doubted you for a second. What did you get?

Sanji pulls a small pouch that he'd secured around his wrist by its loops. The swordsman didn’t even notice that he had it on him, too distracted at the sight of his mangled body earlier. The blonde opens the bag with one hand and pulls out a small dark pebble between his fingers with the other, raising it as high as he could muster in front of Zoro’s face.

Sanji

Pure, unadulterated condensed Seastones, baby.

Zoro's eye widens. Then he grins, genuinely impressed at the man.

Zoro

Wh–what? I've never even seen them in that form before.

Sanji grins a toothy smile up to him. Zoro's heart pounds at the sight.

Man 2

Those things?! They’re Devil Fruit user killers–they're worth almost a million Beri each! 

Sanji

I know right! Want one? When we get out of here, you can buy your way anywhere in the world and start a new life.

Woman 1

Your Highness, you can't possibly–

Sanji

Catch!

Sanji flicks a pebble up in the air to the woman who scrambles to catch it in surprise. He does the same to the others. Finally, he gently holds one out to the merchild walking alongside them.

Sanji

Grow up big and strong for me, okay?

The merchild looks at his father, who nods, then takes the pebble from Sanji.

There's a moment of silence, then Zoro hears sniffles coming from one of the women, then the other, then followed by the two men and the merchild that they had freed. They cry their eyes out, thanking the Pirate King and the Warlord as they reach the end of the tunnel.

—

Sanji is unclear what exactly happens next. He knows that he’s been drifting in and out of sleep, blaming his body’s fatigued condition and whatever serum that the Celestial Dragon had injected him with to nullify his strength earlier.

He feels the harsh wind and rain on his face. It looks like the weather has turned for the worst. He hears high pitch sounds of whirring, as if machines are charging up. Then he hears a child scream. Forcing his eyes open, he sees blindingly bright long beams head directly towards them. He wonders if this is his chance to see his mother again.

The swordsman above him quickly takes a step forward, adjusting his hold of him, then swings a sword in three wide movements, redirecting all the beams back to its source. One hits a Pacifista straight onto its face, causing it to explode and knock back the two next to it. Sanji can’t help but smile.

Sanji

Nice… shot….

Zoro

Curls–?! You’re awake! Do you think you can…

Sanji’s vision and hearing gets all fuzzy again, unable to hear the rest of Zoro’s question. His eyes droop weakly, limbs dropping.

Woman 1

…There’s no…

…he’s lost too much blood!

Man 2

…This way, hurry!!!

Zoro

Hold on! Give me…

…anything, just quickly!

Sanji feels a painful pressure against the hole in his chest as the swordsman pushes down a crumpled cloth over it. He thinks that it would be a shame to die now. He doesn’t want to face his mother until he fulfils his promise to help his sister and brothers first. He silently asks her forgiveness for not visiting enough. His world darkens as reality fades once more.

When his eyes open, they’re in the sloop that one of the men had promised. It rocked madly from the torrential weather in the open seas. One of the women and the merchild held him securely in their arms while keeping pressure over his bleeding chest. They’re trying to keep him as stable as possible in the undercover area of the boat.

Outside, he sees the rest of their group all work together to pull a rope on one end of the ship while Zoro pulls a separate one all by himself on the other side. They look like they’re trying to secure the sails above them while dealing with the severe storm.

Sanji

What a nice… family….

Merchild

Hey, uncle! Stay with us, okay?! We’re…

…it’s going to be…

Woman 2

…just about…

…very soon, I promise!

…just hang on!

Man 2

Warlord Zoro! We’re being followed!!

Sanji’s eyes close again. He ponders if the Seastones of the quality he got would help Germa finalise their research. Then he starts wondering if there's a chance that his siblings would enjoy a day out sailing when they finally get emotions of their own without having to rely on those ugly modified helmets. He silently asks them to hang in there.

Sanji

I'm so, so sorry….

When he comes to again, he sees Zoro by himself in the thick of the rain, panting madly. He looks extremely worn and tired.

Bright lights shine from a distance and a continuous barrage of beams break through the fog, directly heading their way. Most hit the water next to them, causing the small boat to rock sideways, almost tipping over the boat at one point. He hears Zoro yell out one of his one-sword style moves as he deflects the beams in one long swipe, sending them off in different directions. He could hear his exhaustion behind his voice.

Man 1

Warlord Zoro! Another rogue wave up ahead!

Zoro

Shit!

Sanji feels the boat shift upwards at a steep angle. He thinks about how much work the swordsman is putting on right now, dealing with Pacifistas, protecting them, and trying to keep their small boat afloat in the storm all at the same time. 

Zoro lowers down almost to a kneeling position and takes out a second sword. He swings his blades synchronously in a circle, creating a massive force of vortex that breaks through the rogue wave in front of them. It corrects the angle of the boat, saving them from capsizing.

Sanji

What a… great swordsman…

His words catch Zoro’s attention.

Suddenly there was a nagging sensation from the right. Another beam is heading their way. Sanji predicts that the distracted swordsman can redirect this attack but the aftershock of the impact would heavily damage the roof of the undercover area and the sloop’s already stressed mast. 

Sanji reaches out and uses his last remaining strength to pull the nearby woman and merchild down to the floor with him.

His prediction is correct, and the events unfold exactly as he saw it through his haki, saving the woman and merchild from getting caught up in the blast.

Sanji worries about the other members of their family. He’s too weak to think about too many people at once.

Zoro rises from under the debris in front of them. Sure enough, he had used his body to protect the others from the blast by pinning them low to the floor. Relief washes over the blonde.

He sees a series of lightning strikes reign down from the sky that makes his hair stand on end, followed by powerful sounds of thunder and huge explosions from afar.

The blinding light of the sun suddenly emerges above them. Sanji welcomes the warm sensation on his skin. The thick grey clouds part, as if being commanded to. The whirring machine noises from the distant seems to have quieted down.

Zoro groans in exhaustion. He looks around and huffs. When he gazes upwards, a large smile forms across his face.

A heavenly being descends from above, waving a long metallic staff in circles. As it does, the clouds part further, creating an area of calm waters in their immediate vicinity. As the creature of light gets closer, Sanji notices long orange hair flowing beautifully in the wind. He catches sight of an impressive tattoo on its arm. When his vision clears a bit more, he finally sees that their saviour is in the shape of a voluptuous woman riding a small bubble ship floating down to their damaged sloop. She waves at them over the side with a bright smile on her face.

Sanji

An angel… from heaven…?

Zoro

NAMI!!!

----------

I like to think that in every universe, Sanji worships Nami in different ways.

I initially really wanted to draw the balcony scene as an opening to this chapter. The whole kiss kiss smooch shebang. But as I was doing it, I noticed some inconsistencies with Sanji's design. I figured I'd do a character sheet for reference to hone down on it first before I flesh things out too detailed.

Zoro's character design definitely needs some love though. Maybe I'll do his next.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Love this 1900 townhome in Baltimore, MD. 5bds, 6ba, 5,690 sq ft. $980k - well, at least it's not $1m. It's the only one that has the lovely ivy climbing up the front.

Beautiful marble entrance foyer with original doors and architectural details.

Typical main side hall design, b/c it's a townhouse, with pocket doors to the sitting room.

Large front windows bring in lots of natural light. Love the elegant fireplace.

Very large, gracious space.

More pocket doors. Looks like they use this as a game room. Another nice fireplace and it looks like they either changed the shelving or added it.

The formal dining room has in & out doorways to the kitchen. It deserves some fancy decor to match the fireplace.

Interesting. It looks like they made a new kitchen out of the sun porch. It's lovely- the natural light and the brick outer wall bring the outdoors in.

Door to the porch and garden. This is delightful.

Walk right out on the porch to access the outdoor grill.

Powder room off the kitchen.

This home has so many levels.

Pocket doors to the primary bedroom from a den.

Large renovated ensuite.

Up another level.

Plus a finished attic.

Vintage bath up here.

A mural on the stairs to the basement.

Wow, what a great rec room. Gorgeous big fireplace and exposed brick wall.

Great space to entertain- it has a kitchen and dining area.

There's even a pantry.

Nice bedroom suite down here. This is like a private apt.

The back is gorgeous- love the porches, the patio and the enclosed yard.

Beautiful park right across the street.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1612-Park-Ave-Baltimore-MD-21217/36488547_zpid/

[ssivinee]

❥ 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞

Le Sserafim! Kim Chaewon x F reader [Soulmate AU]: In a world where, by the age of 18, you and your soulmate are gifted a book that links you to each other. You disliked the thought of a book dictating who she’ll spend the rest of her life with. Meanwhile, after years of owning the book, Chaewon realized you didn’t care to write in the notebook, using it as her personal diary, ESPECIALLY when the idol industry was beginning to fuck her over.

Word Count: 5.9 k

Author's Note: ya'll idek what to say, writing this was just so much fun, but it does feel a bit rushed so pls have mercy on meeeeee👹👹. BUT ONTO THE NEXT RAHHHHHHHHH

➳ Character Concept - Na Y/n

You were at home, buried in a stack of paperwork your boss and coworkers had piled onto you. The nine-to-five life shouldn’t be this brutal, but the workload hit you hard again. Being the new hire came with a catch: everyone seemed to drop their tasks onto you, and you weren’t in the position to refuse.

As you leaned back and stretched, your eyes drifted away from the papers, landing on the tall bookcase in your workspace. You weren’t much of a reader and rarely touched any of the books lined up there.

Most were your sister’s, left behind each time she visited, and when she didn’t bother taking them back, you’d eventually set up the bookcase instead of reminding her. It turned out to be the perfect place for one book in particular—the one you always avoided.

The book was a beautiful thing, really. It had a hardcover in a muted tea green, soft and elegant, with details engraved in dark green, gray, and sage. Intricate floral patterns ran along the edges, almost like ivy climbing an ancient wall, making it the most mysterious-looking book among them all.

Your name was delicately written on the spine in white cursive. As you looked at it, you had to admit it was the kind of book that could draw anyone in—if it didn’t carry the purpose it did.

In this world, everyone was destined to have a soulmate. From birth, every person had one match waiting somewhere, and at eighteen, you received a book like this one—a "mirror book," as people called it. The book was always explained as “one book split into two,” and each soulmate would receive a half.

Whatever your soulmate wrote would appear in your book, and whatever you wrote would show in theirs. It was a way to communicate without knowing each other’s names, faces, or locations, a silent promise between two people meant to be together.

When you first received it, you thought it was a fascinating concept: a link to someone the world had chosen just for you. The book had arrived out of nowhere, in a plain box on your doorstep.

You’d been a little curious then, but as the years passed, you left it unopened, letting it collect dust on the shelf. It had lit up often enough—sometimes three or five times a month—meaning your soulmate had written something. But you never looked. 

Right on cue, the book started glowing faintly, the light seeping out around the spine and pages, a warm, soft pulse calling for your attention. Before you could even consider reaching for it, though, your phone rang, breaking your gaze.

“Yes, boss?”

“...”

“I’ll have it done by morning.”

You hung up, rolling your eyes at the extra load. This was going to be a long night.

“Unnie, manager-nim asked for you!” The call echoed through the building, and Chaewon turned, catching the eager wave from the maknae, who gestured for her to hurry. Chaewon sighed, walking down the maze of hallways toward the conference room. Awards season was approaching, and she assumed this would be a meeting about the group’s recent success.

Inside the conference room, several higher-ups sat around a long table, each one wearing a mask that hid their faces and reactions. Their eyes shifted around, avoiding direct eye contact with her, which was never a good sign.

“Chaewon-ssi. Please, take a seat.” One of the men, scrawny and stern-looking, gestured toward the chair in front of them. She complied, sitting as they exchanged uneasy glances. 

The man cleared his throat and spoke, “Your latest comeback did amazing. With everything the group has gone through in the past year, this is a positive step forward.” Chaewon nodded, grateful to hear some acknowledgment of their hard work. But she could see through the act he was putting on. Their body language said more than their words.

A woman seated near the end of the table, probably the senior among them, coughed and caught Chaewon’s eye. “This isn’t enough, though,” she began, her tone dripping with the authority they always tried to wield over the idols. 

Chaewon adjusted herself in the seat, looking directly at the woman. “Not enough? Sales exceeded expectations, and the public response has been better than any release in recent months,” she replied. As leader, she knew their numbers inside out, and there was no way they could brush off the group’s success.

The woman only shook her head. “Still, it’s not enough. We need a broader reach and more engagement. We have high expectations for you all, you know?” 

Chaewon’s jaw tightened, but she kept her tone measured. “So, what now?”

A man leaned forward, expression blank but voice patronizing. “You’ll be entering a public relationship with TXT’s Yeonjun. We’re aiming for a six-month duration.”

Chaewon’s stomach twisted. She and Yeonjun had always been friendly, but this? It wasn’t what she’d signed up for. She was aware of the shipping and that some people even liked their friendship, but she didn’t think it would cause her to be in this position.

She knew her job required sacrifices, but the pressure from HYBE had been pushing everyone in LE SSERAFIM to their limits lately. Scandals over the past months had put the entire company on edge, and the members felt it—a growing resentment they couldn’t afford to show.

One misstep and they could lose everything they’d worked for. So, they remained civil, swallowing their frustration to keep moving forward.

Chaewon forced herself to keep a neutral expression, nodding as if this decision was acceptable. But inside, frustration was simmering, her fists clenched under the table. As soon as the meeting ended, she left, biting back any words that might betray her true feelings.

Back in the privacy of her dorm, she took a shaky breath, pulling her soulmate book from a drawer on her nightstand. The cover was a deep tea green, with dark green, gray, and sage details, and her name was written in fine cursive.

The book had been her lifeline whenever she felt overwhelmed or needed an escape. She opened it to a blank page, the edges of earlier entries slightly frayed from countless hurried scribbles over the years.

Chaewon hadn’t heard from her soulmate, not once since receiving the book. At first, she’d wondered if they just weren’t interested, but over time, she’d pushed that thought aside. Her schedule left little room for those kinds of distractions anyway. The book slowly became more like a diary, a safe place where she could let out the thoughts and frustrations she didn’t share with anyone else.

With a sigh, she picked up a pen and began to write.

Today was another reminder of how little control I have while I’m in this industry. They’re forcing me into a relationship with Yeonjun. He’s a friend, and this feels so wrong. I wish things were different. Sometimes, it feels like my life isn’t even my own. I joined this world to entertain and make music, to perform. But now, everything is about to be carefully planned and scripted, right down to who I’m supposed to “love.” They say it’s for the group’s success, to keep the fans engaged in any way, but I’m being used. I’m literally just a pawn in this damn company. And Yeonjun… deserves better than this, too. This just isn’t fair to either of us. I can’t even talk to the members about it. This is something I have to deal with myself. The members are trying to fake it and avoid conflict with the higher-ups. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I could share all of this with my soulmate. If they’d understand. Or maybe they’d just tell me to hang in there, to keep going… But you’re silent, as always. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe they’d just think I was selfish, complaining about things that most people only dream of. But sometimes I feel trapped, more than I ever expected.

She paused, staring at the ink as it dried on the page. The book remained silent as always, no answer appearing on the next page. She hadn’t let herself think too much about why her soulmate had never written back. Right now, it was almost better this way—just her and her thoughts. 

As she closed the book, she felt a little lighter, the weight of the day lifting just enough. Even if her soulmate didn’t write back, having a place to confide gave her a sliver of peace.

It was your day off, and things were going smoothly despite the usual workload. Your sister, Haeun, was visiting with your two nephews, who were busy turning your home into their personal playground. Meanwhile, Haeun sat on your couch, deeply engrossed in her own mirror book. Of all the books she’d left at your place over the years, that one was never one of them.

She had already met her soulmate, Junseo, years ago, so it puzzled you as to why she still read it so often. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Haeun asked in her usual goofy tone when she caught your stare.

You kept typing on your laptop but glanced up. “Just wondering why you still read that book so much. You and Junseo met six years ago.”

Haeun gently shut the book, setting it on the coffee table. “Because I like reminiscing about when we used to write to each other.”

Her response made you raise an eyebrow. You’d never understood the interest in the concept of it. “I don’t get it,” you admitted bluntly. “How can anyone let that stupid book dictate who they spend their life with? Isn’t it kind of deranged? I mean, sure, the world picks your soulmate based on your preferences or whatever, but preferences change all the time. What’s so magical about it?”

Haeun smirked, clearly amused by your usual skepticism. “You’re so closed-minded about the mirror book,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You don’t have to choose your soulmate. You can end up with anyone you want. But the soulmate from your mirror book? That’s a unique connection. It’s not just about preferences—it’s about something deeper. Like…” She paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like the red string of fate.”

Her explanation caught you off guard. All your life, you’d thought the mirror book only matched people based on their likes and dislikes by your mother and father. Yet Haeun was making it sound like it was something much more deeper.

“When I met Junseo a month after my 18th birthday,” she continued, her voice soft with the memory, “it felt like a part of me I didn’t even know was missing suddenly clicked into place.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to dismiss the strange sensation her words stirred in you.

“When you meet your soulmate,” Haeun said, her eyes warm and knowing, “it’s not just love. It’s a kind of happiness you can’t find anywhere else.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Sounds like a fairy tale to me.”

Haeun groaned, clearly irritated. “Look, you don’t have to believe me right now. But there’s no harm in reading your book, you know?”

Her words lingered as the day went on. You spent time with your nephews, running errands, baking cookies, and even decorating a small cake for Haeun. These were the moments you loved—putting smiles on faces with little things. Yet, in the back of your mind, her suggestion gnawed at you.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found yourself sitting in your office, the tea-green book in your hands. Its presence felt heavier than it should, as if all the weight of the past seven years had settled in your lap.

You stared at the intricate cover, tracing the engraved details. The accents of dark green, sage, and gray caught the dim light, and your name on the spine gleamed in delicate white cursive. This book had followed you from place to place, always hidden—stuffed in boxes, shoved on high shelves, or buried in your bookcase.

Taking a deep breath, you opened it for the first time.

The pages were filled—hundreds of them, written over the course of seven years. The first few entries practically radiated excitement.

I can’t believe I got my book! I wonder what you’re like. Do you like music? Because I love it. I hope we have that in common.

The enthusiasm made you chuckle. Your soulmate seemed like a hopeless romantic, pouring her heart onto the pages. She mentioned being a trainee at Wollim Entertainment, and her youthful optimism was almost contagious.

But as you flipped through, the tone shifted. She grew demoralized, apologizing repeatedly for your silence, even wondering if she’d done something wrong. Then came a time jump—2018.

Wow, it’s been a while. I almost forgot this book existed. I don’t know if you’re reading it or if you’ve even opened it, but I think this book will be my diary from now on. Today, I finally debuted. It’s not under Wollim, but it’s a step. We’re going to be big. I just know it. The members are amazing, and we’ve already bonded so much over the course of a few months. I’ll always have their backs, no matter what happens.

You paused, curiosity piqued. She hadn’t debuted under Wollim?

Further entries painted a bittersweet picture. Two years later, there was another major update:

After a great two years, we finally disbanded. It was a bittersweet end to this chapter of my life. Our last concert was… emotional. Wonyoung and Yujinie wouldn’t stop crying. I don’t know what comes next for me. Back to training, I guess?

Tear stains dotted the page, their presence tugging at something in your chest. Her sadness felt strong, your heart feeling heavy at the sight of it, her uncertainty painful. You skimmed forward, finding more messages filled with longing for her old group and tentative hope for the future.

Finally, you reached the most recent entry, written just a week ago:

I don’t know how to feel. They’re making me go into a public relationship with Yeonjun. It’s for the group’s image, they say. I know it’s just business, but it feels wrong. I wish things were different.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Yeonjun? You didn’t keep up with K-pop much, but the name was vaguely familiar. You grabbed your phone and typed “K-pop Yeonjun” into the search bar. As the results loaded, one name stood out:

Kim Chaewon.

Your heart skipped a beat. Kim Chaewon? As in Chaewon from IZONE? Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM?*

Your fingers tightened around your shirt as your heartbeat quickened. Your soulmate is Kim Chaewon?

The thought left you reeling. She was a celebrity, and you? You were just an ordinary office worker. Insecurity crept in, making your stomach churn. What would she even think of you?

But maybe… maybe the first step was to stop overthinking and just write back. You reach for a pen, trying to piece together the first words you’d ever be telling her.

Hi. I don’t even know where to begin… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not writing back all these years. I promise it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I just—I didn’t know how what to think of this, to be honest. The idea of a soulmate… seemed fake to me. I thought it was better to live my life without the pressure of this book defining who I should love or be with. But after reading everything you’ve written… I realize how unfair that was to you. You’ve poured so much of yourself into these pages, and I left you alone in it. For that, I’m deeply sorry. I also didn’t expect you to be… well, you. I figured from context your Kim Chaewon. You’re not just anyone. You’re someone the world knows. Someone who’s achieved so much, worked hard, and faced many challenges. You’ve gone through a lot, and I can’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been to write in here, not knowing if I’d ever read it or respond. I’m also so, so sorry about what you’re going through with this “relationship” situation. You don’t deserve that. I don’t know what to say other than it’s unfair, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better. I’m not sure if this is enough to make up for all the silence, but I’m here now. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I promise.

Chaewon was sprawled on her bed, the dorm oddly quiet for the first time in a while. Most of the members were out at the company for various schedules, but Chaewon had managed to secure a few hours to herself.

She had been trying to relax, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, but her thoughts were heavy, weighed down by the fake relationship looming over her.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, her mirror book began to glow.

She froze, her phone slipping from her fingers onto the blanket. The soft, ethereal light from the book seemed almost unreal, and her heart leapt to her throat.

It had never glowed before. Not once.

Her hands trembled as she reached for it, hesitant. The idea of opening the book and finding nothing—a cruel glitch in the universe’s matchmaking—was terrifying. But what if there was something?

Taking a deep breath, Chaewon flipped open the book to the latest page. Her eyes scanned the handwriting, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. With each word she read, her chest grew lighter.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, emotions crashing into her all at once. Relief. Sadness. Hope.

Your apology softened the ache she’d carried for years. The acknowledgment of her struggles, of her loneliness, made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected. But more than anything, she was just grateful. She was grateful that her soulmate had finally reached out, even if it was just this once.

She let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes before they could spill over. Grabbing a pen, she carefully began to write her response, her hand steady despite the storm of emotions she currently felt.

Hi!  Thank you for writing to me. You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. I won’t lie. There were times I thought you might never write back, and I convinced myself that was okay. But seeing your words today… it means more than I can put into words. You don’t need to apologize. I get it. This whole soulmate thing is overwhelming. Honestly, it scared me, too, when I first got my book. I kept thinking, “What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not enough?” But you are enough. You’re more than enough. Don’t ever feel like you’re not because of who I am or what I do. I’m just a person. I get scared and confused, too. I want to know more about you. Who you are, what you like, what makes you happy. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. And if you’d rather take things slow, that’s okay, too. No pressure. Just… thank you for responding. Even if it’s only this once, it means the world to me.

Chaewon closed the book, her smile wide and genuine. It had been years, but finally, you made yourself known to her. The weight of uncertainty, the questions she had carried for so long—they didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her phone and opened the group chat with her members.

Chae GUYS. MY MIRROR BOOK GLOWED.

The chat quickly exploded with notifications.

Zuha WOAHHH No way?? Are you serious?! 😲

Smiley Potato Well finally!!!!! What did they say???

Kkura unnie finally?? after all this time? what did you write back?? 🫣

Jennifer HOLD UP …what if it’s a scam? 🤔 soulmate catfishing could totally be a thing.

Chaewon rolled her eyes, laughing softly as she typed her response.

Chae i don’t think it’s fake! they wrote about stuff that only someone who read a lot of the book would know like the PR thing with Yeonjun 👹 they even apologized for not writing all these years

The chat went silent for a few moments, as if the group collectively held their breath.

Smiley Potato okay, but like are you sure they’re genuine?

Chaewon i am it didn’t feel fake it felt… real like they’ve been holding back for a long time but wanted to make things right 🙂‍↕️

Zuha awwwwww that’s so sweet 🥹

Kkura unnie well, don’t scare them off just take it slow

Chaewon nodded to herself, grateful for their support, even if some of them were skeptical. For the first time in a long while, her excitement replacing the weight of her worries.

The next morning, you sat at your desk, the tea-green book lying closed in front of you. Your gaze lingered on it, anticipation bubbling in your chest. When you finally opened it, the latest entry made you smile.

Chaewon had accepted your apology. She hadn’t held onto any anger or resentment. Instead, her words were warm, curious, and welcoming. It felt nice on your conscience knowing she didn’t hate you.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the blank page in front of you. Your mind raced with what to write. It was weird, wasn’t it? Sharing your life with someone you didn’t even know? Still, she’d written so much about herself over the years. The least you could do was give her the same.

Picking up your pen, you began to write.

Hi again. I wasn’t sure if I’d write back so soon, but your reply made me smile. Thank you for not hating me after all this time. I guess I should tell you a little about myself?  But, to be honest, I think you might find me pretty boring. I work a dumb office job that keeps me way too busy, but it pays the bills, so I can’t complain too much. My real passion, though, is baking. I love making cakes, cookies, pastries—you name it. I dream of opening my own little bakery one day, but, well, starting a business here isn’t exactly easy. My parents live in Jeollanam-do, in a small village near Boseong. You’d love it there—the green tea fields stretch on forever. I visit when I can, but it’s tough to find time with work and everything. My sister, Haeun, lives closer to me. She’s married and has two kids who are absolute terrors but in the cutest way possible. They keep me on my toes whenever they visit. Oh, and my favorite color is green, probably because of where I grew up. It reminds me of home, of peace, of the simpler times before life got so… complicated. Anyway, that’s me. Just an ordinary person in a very ordinary life.

You paused, biting your lip as you reread what you wrote. Did it sound too plain? Too uninteresting? Shaking off the self-doubt, you finished your entry.

I hope this isn’t too boring for you to read. I’m sure your life is much more exciting. But I’d love to hear more about you, too. If you don’t mind, that is.

Setting the pen down, you closed the book, feeling both nervous and hopeful. You weren’t sure what would come next, but for now, it felt good to share a piece of yourself with her.

The next day, Chaewon’s schedule was packed with photoshoots and rehearsals, but her mirror book sat discreetly in her bag. During a break, she pulled it out, the soft green glow catching her attention. She flipped it open, her lips curling into a smile as she read your latest entry. Your awkwardness, your humility—it was endearing in a way she hadn’t expected.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “So ordinary, huh?” she muttered to herself, the amusement lingering in her expression. Her heart felt lighter, and for the first time in days, she didn’t feel so weighed down by everything else.

As the crew shuffled around, prepping for the next shot, she quickly grabbed a pen and began to write back.

I don’t know why you think your life is boring. Reading your words makes me feel like I’m learning about a whole new world. Honestly, your passion for baking? It's amazing. I can’t even crack an egg without causing a disaster, so I’m already impressed. Life on my end… it’s exciting, but not always in good ways, like this whole PR relationship thing. It feels like I’m constantly trying to prove something to the world, even when it doesn’t feel like me. Training life was hard, but this industry is even harder sometimes. There’s always something—rumors, hate, expectations. And now, with this, I can already feel the negativity piling on, even though I’ve been avoiding social media the past few days. My members, though, have been helping me get through it. Well, mostly. They’re a little skeptical about you, but I can’t blame them for being cautious. But you feel real to me. Your letters, your thoughts— calculated. They’re just you. And you’re cute, by the way. The way you write, stumbling over your own words like you’re nervous about sounding silly? It’s adorable. I hope you know that. I really hope we can meet one day. I don’t know when or how, but the idea of finally seeing you face-to-face makes me… excited. Nervous but excited.

Chaewon closed the book just as the photographer called her name. She tucked it away, a soft smile still on her face as she returned to the set.

What she didn’t realize was that fate was already weaving its threads, and it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed for real.

It was a random day when, Haeun, insisted on introducing you to a friend of hers over lunch. You hadn’t thought much of it at first—Haeun was always the social butterfly of the family, her circle of connections ranging from neighbors to industry professionals.

The three of you met at a cozy restaurant downtown. Haeun’s friend, Sojung, was sharp, poised, and had an air of effortless confidence about her. As the conversation flowed, you shared polite smiles and nods while your sister took the lead. But when the topic shifted to your baking, Sojung’s interest piqued.

“Haeun tells me you’re amazing at baking,” Sojung said, her tone warm and encouraging.

You waved it off, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed. Nothing big.”

Haeun, of course, wasn’t having it. “Nothing big? Please. Y/n’s been dreaming about opening her own bakery for years. She’s just never gone out of her way to try and do it.”

Sojung leaned forward slightly, her eyes lighting up. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a new business venture. I’d love to help you make this dream happen.”

The words caught you off guard. You blinked at her, unsure if you’d misheard. “You’d… help me? Really?”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “I’ve got the resources, and if you’ve got the talent and the vision, we could make something incredible together.”

So the two weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Your mornings still began with your mundane office job, but your evenings and weekends became consumed with planning. Together with Sojung, you toured potential locations, sketched ideas for the bakery’s design, and worked on everything from color schemes to menu concepts.

It was exciting, yes, but also exhausting. Balancing your office work that your boss, Younghyun, gave with the demands of setting up the bakery left you with little time for anything else. Even writing to Chaewon, which had quickly become a bright spot in your life, had to be put on hold.

But when the bakery finally opened, it felt surreal. The storefront was everything you’d imagined—soft pastels, elegant displays, and the warm aroma of freshly baked goods greeting every customer who walked through the door. But in the chaos of launching your dream, you realized you hadn’t told Chaewon the name of the store.

That night, once the rush of the grand opening had died down, you finally sat down with your mirror book. Opening it, you felt a pang of guilt as you saw Chaewon’s last message still unanswered. Picking up your pen, you began to write.

Chaewon, I’m so sorry for not writing back sooner.   These past two weeks have been insane. My sister introduced me to a friend who offered to help me open my own bakery. It’s been a dream of mine for so long, but I didn’t think it would ever happen. Now it’s real, and I’ve been so busy trying to balance my job and getting everything ready that I haven’t had a moment to breathe. We finally opened today. It’s small but cozy, and I love it. I wish I could tell you where it is, but honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it even exists. Maybe one day, if we meet, I can show you in person? I hope you’re doing okay.  I know I’ve been terrible at keeping up, but I’ve thought about your letters a lot. Even in the chaos, they’ve stuck with me.  I’ll try not to disappear again, I promise.

With a deep breath, you closed the book, hoping Chaewon would understand. What you didn’t know was that your words would soon light up her mirror book, bringing a smile to her face during her own chaotic days.

The message from Chaewon came later that night, her handwriting as neat and lovely as ever.

Hey, Don’t apologize, really. I’m just glad you’re chasing your dreams.  It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, but I’m happy to know life’s heading in the right direction for you. Your bakery sounds so cozy, and I can already picture how it must look. I hope it becomes everything you want it to be. If we ever get the chance to meet, I’d love to visit. Don’t stress too much about writing back. Life gets busy, and I understand that. Just know that I’m always here, and I’m cheering you on from afar.

Reading her reply, you couldn’t help but smile. The warmth in her words, the genuine support—it was unlike anything you’d felt before.

In the days that followed, you did your best to keep up with her letters despite your increasingly hectic schedule. Your office job, under the relentless supervision of Younghyun, had become more demanding than ever. He piled project after project on your desk, and there were days you barely had time to think.

When you weren’t drowning in work at the office, you were juggling the new bakery, My Sweet Home. It was bustling with customers from the moment the doors opened. With only two employees to help you run the place, every day was stressful but you loved everything about it.

Even with everything going on, you brought your mirror book everywhere. During rare quiet moments, you would pull it out to read Chaewon’s latest messages, finding comfort in her words. Her letters became a kind reminder that someone out there cared about the small victories and struggles you were facing.

The following week, Yunjin heard about the opening of a bakery in Seoul that had been trending locally. Intrigued by the buzz, she convinced Kazuha and Chaewon to join her for a visit.

“It’ll be fun!” Yunjin chirped as they left their dorm. “And we can go incognito. Hats, masks—the whole deal. No one will know it’s us.”

Chaewon hesitated but agreed, curious about the bakery herself. The trio arrived at My Sweet Home to find the place packed with customers. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of fresh pastries and cakes, and every table was full.

“Wow, this place is popular,” Kazuha said, her voice muffled under her mask.

Yunjin nodded approvingly. “Told you it was worth the trip. Let’s grab a seat while we wait.”

Chaewon followed them inside, her gaze sweeping over the cozy décor. There was a warmth to the space that immediately made her feel at ease.

In the back, you were pulling trays of cupcakes out of the oven, each one perfectly golden and ready to be decorated. You had no idea that three idols were sitting in your café, let alone Chaewon herself. With a practiced hand, you quickly piped frosting onto the, now, cooled cupcakes, adding a sprinkle of edible glitter before carrying the tray out front.

As you stepped into the bustling café, your eyes scanned the crowd—and then froze.

There she was. Even with the mask and hat, you recognized her immediately. Her eyes locked with yours, and at that exact moment, your mirror book, tucked in the office area, began to glow faintly.

You saw the recognition in her gaze too, the moment she realized who you were.

Chaewon’s breath caught as she took in the sight of you. Despite the flour dusting your apron and your slightly messy hair, she thought you were beautiful, your eyes like a small puppy and your lips opened due to the shock.

You hesitated for a second before signaling toward the back with a nervous gesture, hoping she’d understand. To your surprise, Chaewon nodded and quietly slipped away from the table, leaving Yunjin and Kazuha to distract themselves with the menu who never noticed her disappearance.

In the small back room of the bakery, you paced nervously until Chaewon appeared. She closed the door softly behind her, pulling down her mask and revealing a warm, slightly nervous smile.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the reality of meeting for the first time sinking in.

Then, without warning, Chaewon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you. Her embrace was gentle yet firm, and the faint scent of lavender surrounded you, soothing your nerves.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions you both were feeling.

“Hi,” you whispered back, still processing the fact that she was here, that she was real.

“Uhm… I don’t even know what to say,” you tell here as the two of you came apart and she chuckles. “Well, I don’t think either of us were actually expecting this.”

"How bout' you start off with your name?"

You shake your head in a frenzy, "R-right. I'm Na Y/n. Nice to meet you, Miss Kim Chaewon." You reach out your hand for a handshake, but she gives you another hug, this one feeling more softer than the last. Welp, at least you now knew she was a hugger.

She then began to think, “So~ My Sweet Home is yours?”

You nodded shyly as she looks around, making herself comfortable quickly. Chaewon’s eyes then fall onto some papers and a four trays of mint green cookies beside them. She points then looks at you, “Those are?”

“Oh, matcha cookies and mint chocolate chip cookies,” you tell her, showing her the paper of the recipe you formulated a week back. As if Chaewon’s eyes sparkled, she yelps in excitement. “I love mint chocolate chip! …Is it okay if I try one?” You giggled, finding her cute, and nod. The cookies were still warm as she took a bite.

As she tasted its flavor, she made cute noises and did a little dance, shimmying her body back and forth, with her cheeks puffed up full of sweets. You just couldn’t help but giggled at her antics, she was too cute for your heart to handle.

“Yeah, having a soulmate definitely isnt so bad,” you blurted out. You didn’t mean to admit that out loud, but you did mean it. Chaewon looks at you, her curious eyes looking playful as well. “Really?” She asked in a tiny voice, struggling to speak with her mouth still full.

You nod with a smile of your face, “Really.”

[kaynanarie]

Eyes of Gold (Part 4)

(A WukongxReader story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and Lutung Kasarung.) (First) (Prev) (Next)

            Two days later, the rash was finally gone. The baths and medicine had cleansed it away, leaving healthy, itchless skin in its wake. You couldn’t be more relieved. Shihou endured your smothering hugs and endless thanks with grace and a smidge of pride.

            With you now poison ivy free, the monkey was ready to show you the way up the mountain. You didn’t realize how literally he meant it until you were three hours into a grueling hike.

            “How much further?” you whined, climbing up yet another set of stone steps. Shihou snickered where he sat waiting for you to catch up.

            “Just a few more. Would you had preferred scaling the side of the mountain?”

            You huffed, pausing to catch your breath. “No, but I wasn’t expecting a maze of staircases and secret tunnels. Did Monkey King find all these?”

            “Actually, he made most of them,” Shihou said, leading the way down a side passage. “Fruit and Flower Mountain has seen plenty of battles and having a backdoor comes in handy.”

            Glowing moss along the walls offered some light but you still kept close to Shihou. With so many twists and turns, getting lost would be all too easy. After another flight of stairs and a few more tight tunnels, Shihou finally stopped by an unassuming patch of stone.

            “Here we are!”

            You glanced at the rocky surface then back at him. “Where exactly is here?”

            With a smirk, Shihou pushed the wall aside. Instead of stone like you first assumed, a cloth was brushed away, revealing a brightly lit hallway on the other side. You stepped out into the light, letting your eyes adjust while also enjoying the fresh air. Behind you, a woven tapestry fell back into place, covering the secret doorway without a trace.

            Once you could properly see, you found yourself in a corridor, one side dotted with large windows streaming in sunlight. Lining the opposite wall were statues, murals, and hanging weapons interspaced between ornate doors. Despite being carved from the mountain itself, the stone palace was just as regal and intricate as any human-made castle.

            “Your room is over here, peach friend! Come take a look!” Shihou called from down the hall. He was nearly hopping from excitement by the time you joined him in front of the open door. “What do you think?”

            The room was huge, a carefully carved cavern with artistic details etched into the very walls. Rosewood furniture adorned the space, expertly crafted and polished to a mirror shine. The wardrobe tucked in the corner revealed silk robes similar to your first gifted set. A bowl of fruit and bouquet of colorful flowers decorated a small side table. You were most excited to see a real bed, plush with a downy mattress and covered in embroidered blankets and furs. The whole space glowed by the light of the bay window leading out to an overlooking balcony.

            Of all the things you expected from a mountain palace full of demons, such royal accommodations were beyond your wildest dreams. “It’s beautiful! Look at this view!”

            Being so high up was breathtaking and dizzying all at once. The whole of Fruit and Flower Mountain stretched before you all the way down to the edge of the forest. Cascading green hills plummeted alongside the thunderous waterfall. Above the canopy of trees, white clouds drifted through the endless blue sky. You were so enthralled by the sight, Shihou had to tug you back by your robes before you could tumble over the balcony railing.

            “Careful! Wouldn’t want an accident before the King announces your arrival.”

            “He’s announcing my arrival?” you repeated in disbelief.

            “Of course!” Shihou chirped, leading you back into the room. With your weary body weighted down by the sudden news, the bed looked more inviting than ever. You all but flopped down on the mattress, sighing into the cloud-like comfort. The weight on the blankets shifted as Shihou hopped up to sit next to you. “The King wants to formally welcome you while also making the others aware of your presence. Best way to avoid any mishaps.”

            “If you say so,” you hummed, glancing over to him. “Any other surprises I should know?”

            “Well actually, there was something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Shihou suddenly looked quite contrite, avoiding your gaze as he scratched at the back of his head. “But you have to promise not to panic or get angry. Okay?”

            You raised a brow. “Is it that bad?”

            “Probably not,” he said though his frown wasn’t very convincing. “Just…try not to hate me?”

            Before you could respond, Shihou jumped off the bed and scurried to the center of the room. You sat up to watch him, suddenly worried by whatever was about to happen. He took a slow breath, so focused even his tail was still. In a quick nod, a cloud of smoke enveloped him with a startling pop. You jumped to your feet, coughing and waving the haze from your face. As fast as it appeared, the cloud settled, leaving you blinking as a shrouded figure came into view.

            “Ta-dah!”

            Where Shihou had once been was now stood a demon. He was slightly taller than you, wearing simple pants and robes tied with a belt. The overall appearance was nearly human but his fur, tail, and bare feet were monkey-like. A nervous smile played across his simian face while he waited for your reaction. Only the familiar golden gaze kept full blown panic at bay.

            “Shihou?” you asked after a tense moment.

            “Yep! It’s me! Just a little taller now. And with clothes,” he smirked but there was still a cautious edge to it. “You’re not going to freak out, right?”

            Your arms flailed in bewilderment, grasping for understanding. “First you can talk, and now this? I thought you were just a regular monkey!” Your hands covered your face, mind whirling with every awkward conversation you had with him. “How? Why?”

            Shihou looked a bit sheepish at your confusion. “I didn’t mean to lie. When I found you, I disguised myself so I wouldn’t scare you and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up afterwards. Now that you’re here, you’ll be seeing a lot more demons around so I might as well be the first.”

            A deafening silence filled the room as you processed the monkey’s confession. The longer you stared, the more nervous he became, tail twitching as he fidgeted in place.

            “Are you mad at me, peach friend?” he asked, gold eyes wide and pleading. Despite the larger demon form, he managed to look quite pitiful in his remorse.

            You sighed and shook your head. “You’re lucky you’re still cute.”

            “Aww,” he cooed, his smile sharpening to a cheeky grin. “You think I’m cute?”

            His teasing turned to full blown laughter at your unamused glare. “Don’t push it. I’m already embarrassed I carried you around for three days.”

            “How about I carry you next time to make it up to you?” Shihou chuckled at your mortified blush. “Anyways, now that you know, it’ll be easier to show you around. For now, you should rest while I let the King know you’ve arrived. Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

            The idea of being left by yourself in an unfamiliar demon palace was unnerving but you nodded anyways. Shihou sensed your hesitation and placed his now much larger hand on your shoulder. “I won’t be long. Once everyone’s gathered, I’ll come get you for the announcement.”

            With a final wave and a quick wink, Shihou whisked out of the room. Alone with your reeling thoughts, you laid back on the bed to study the carved ceiling. Soon enough, you felt the fatigue of the day pull you into dreams filled with underground labyrinths, demons in disguise, and the looming presence of the infamous mountain king.