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vnti-vnxiety-recs · 12 days ago

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The Cat Burglar's Heist (M)

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct smut #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct 127 smut #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 x reader

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dalekofchaos · 4 months ago

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Doctor Doom gets ruined AND WHITEWASHED AGAIN!

4 attempts to get Doctor Doom right

And we STILL can’t get this right

A master of magic and science. A man who rivals Doctor Strange and Reed Richards as the most powerful sorcerer and the smartest man alive. He rules an entire country with an army of Doombots. Considered to be one of the greatest Marvel villains. And they still can't get him right. They have to make him a fucking Tony Stark variant. Tony Stark is not Victor Von Doom and Doom is above Tony Stark.

Victor wearing the mask always is integral to his appeal and aura like Vader's mask. It not only hides his vain scars he caused due to his failures, but it closes him off from humanity and makes him believe he’s beyond it.

As far as I'm concerned Marvel Ultimate Alliance and EMH are the only good adaptations of Doom

Doctor Doom being a romani man with a background CENTERING his family's racial persecution. with his ethnicity at the forefront of his motivations and his tragedy. and they really just brought back Robert Downey Jr.

Being romani is INTEGRAL to doom’s character and without that he’s not doom. he NEEDS to be romani and played by a romani character. full stop, don't believe me? Read Book Of Dooms.

Since 1964 Victor von Doom has been established as a Romani character. His childhood was filled with antiziganism and his parents deaths were caused by it. This later led him to become Doctor Doom and overthrow the Latverian government to protect his people

I am so fucking sick and tired of this whitewashing bullshit and the ethnoerasure of Marvel characters.

The Maximoff Twins, The Ancient One, Moon Knight and now fucking Doom.

God fucking forbid an actual Romani actor PLAYS A ROMANI CHARACTER.

But no they pulled another fucking multiverse shit all so RDJ could return and it all feels like blackface from Tropic Thunder

I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT ANTHONY STARK FROM EARTH-11029 OR INFAMOUS IRON MAN

If you wanted evil Iron Man so fucking bad, why didn't you just do Superior Iron Man?

The LAZIEST, DUMBEST, most CONTRIVED BULLSHIT casting ever, Marvel continues to not beat the whitewashing allegations. Doctor Doom deserved better.

Romani actor Charlie Clapman was right fucking there AND HE ENDORSED IT!

I'd even suggest Romani actor Óscar Jaenada as Doom. Again another Roma actor who's actively interested in playing Doom

And you know what? As bad as the 1994 movie was, Joseph Culp the first actor to play Doom in the Fantastic Four (1994) movie by Oley Sassone & Richard Corman. Culp was also white but he very clearly cared for the comics background of Victor von Doom

and you also know damn well they're going to erase everything about Magneto too that makes him who he is… which is his entire fucking background. how horrible of a person do you have to be to repeatedly disrespect the minorities who created these stories?

Doctor Doom is Roma Romani. He is not white. The MCU loves to whitewash its Roma and Jewish characters and it’s time we called them out for it. Dr Doom is not a white man, he is Roma!

They will never nail down the complexity of Victor Von Doom

Every year Doom goes to hell to fight Mephisto to rescue the soul of his mother. He finally won her soul with the help of Doctor Strange only for her to reject him.

No evil Stark replicant will ever fucking match the complexity of Victor Von Doom.

I don't care if this is a one time thing for RDJ. They specifically chose to do this when the fans were begging for a fucking Romani actor. It also doesn't fucking help that Marvel has erased nearly EVERY fucking ethnic character has been whitewashed.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver: Erased Romani heritage and whitewashed. Moon Knight & Wiccan: Casted non-Jewish actors. Sabra: Featured in anything at all, and actress is an IDF soldier to make matters worse.

The MCU is full of ethnic erasure, military propaganda & racism. it’s disgusting this is continuing with Dr Doom’s casting. remember to continue to boycott marvel, because of the genocide they support by casting an iof solider to play a character from the zionist terrorist occupation

Dr Doom is one of those villains that it should be IMPOSSIBLE to fuck up but wasting him on a cheap Iron Man nostalgia casting pop might be the way

#Anti MCU #Doctor Doom #Dr Doom #Victor Von Doom #Magneto #Scarlet Witch #Wanda Maximoff #Wiccan #Moon Knight

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honeybuckin10 · 3 months ago

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Hospital Beds - a Hawks x fem!doctor!reader One Shot

Summary: Hawks heals more than his wings after the Paranormal Liberation War attacks [wc: 4.6k].

Warnings: mentions of mental health struggles, mentions of character death, descriptions of wounds, swearing, angst, fluff, comfort, potentially unpopular Hawks opinions. characters slightly aged up.

a/n: started writing thinking this was gonna be cute and flirty, ended up taking a kind of serious turn (still otherwise cute and flirty with happy-ish ending). might do a spicier part 2 at some point. as always, don’t be a ghost reader pls and ty <3

Hawks’ eyes were focused on the window, lost in thought. There was a crowd gathered outside Central Hospital. From the muffled voices through the glass, it didn’t sound like they were there for support. He felt the span of his back against the hospital bed, a sensation both foreign and grounding. The space where his wings once were stung slightly at the contact, despite the heavy nerve blockers he assumed were administered earlier.

“Back again so soon?”

You broke him from his trance as you shut the door behind you. Your eyes immediately scanned his monitors, a pleasant smile never leaving your face.

“At some point, we really do have to get your heart rate checked out.”

He didn’t actually have a high heart rate. But the machines he was hooked up to always went crazy whenever he got sight of you. He was too embarrassed to say anything, though he wondered if you noticed why his charts never reflected any underlying conditions when his vitals were checked by others.

“You’re not a very good patient, you know. Though now that you can’t talk, perhaps you’ll actually listen.”

He tried to respond, but quickly remembered he couldn’t open his jaw, not very much at least. No sound came out of the small gap between his lips.

You had treated Hawks on several occasions now, usually after incidents involving fire. Most were minor. He’d come in and joke that he’d done it on purpose to see you. You’d roll your eyes, every now and then you’d even dignify him with an actual response: ‘nice try’. But his injuries now were unlike anything you’d ever seen. You knew it was bad when he didn’t try flirting with you. Then again, it’s not like he could even if he wanted to.

Your tone was light and breezy, but the furrow in your brow betrayed your façade.

“I’m only joking, of course. But in all seriousness, your trachea was severely damaged from the smoke inhalation during the attack. Fortunately you narrowly avoided respiratory failure, but you won’t be able to use your voice for a couple of weeks. Lucky for you, technology has advanced enough that you won’t have to carry around a notepad everywhere you go. We recommend using the voice app on your phone.”

You handed him his cell phone, when Hawks noticed a plastic bag of personal items behind you with unknown origins. You followed his eyes to see what was distracting him.

“Oh yes, a young man named Tokoyami brought you a change of clothes and some other things you may need while you were out. Said he was your mentee.” You paused, searching for some kind of reaction. You thought it might brighten his spirits. His eyes widened somewhat, but there was still no smile. “It’s clear you’ve had a big impact on him.”

Tokoyami. His mentee. A child. More memories of the battlefield came flooding back. Twice. Dabi. He knew you hoped that bringing up his pupil would put him at ease. But Hawks was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt that he had put the student is such a dangerous situation.

“I also spoke with Dermatology. They informed me that sixteen percent of your body is covered with third degree burns, another twenty percent second degree, and twenty-two percent first degree. Given the severity and location of the burns, you’re also at risk of developing contractures that could compress your airways in the future so we’ll need to keep a close eye on that. Once your wraps come off, they’ve prescribed you a topical treatment that you’re to use three times a day until everything is healed. You’ll also be started on an oral antibiotic immediately, which you’re to take for three weeks.”

He attempted to use his new voice.

“What about wings?” You took a deep breath. Not good.

“I’m getting to that. I’m going to adjust your bed a little first. Are you able to lean forward?” He nodded as the bed rose up and the angle of his back moved more upright. He winced, unable to hide his discomfort but did as you instructed.

“I’m sorry, I know this is painful for you. I’m going as quickly as I can.” You talked through how you were examining his dressings, that his biggest risk at the moment was that the wounds would get infected, and that the dressings would need to be changed again before the end of the day.

“I think they will grow back. But it will be painful and it will be slow. You must be patient during this time and you’ll have to stay out of the field for a while. I’d recommend taking a well-deserved break until they’re fully healed.”

Bedrest sounded like Hawks’ personal hell. He only nodded his head. He didn’t have the energy to protest.

“You’ll also need to go through a psychiatric evaluation before rejoining field.”

Hawks let out a muffled groan. You let out an exasperated laugh.

“Really, you didn’t make a peep when I was examining your open wounds but you draw the line at psych eval?” You watched as he typed out his next thought.

“Waste of time.” Your eyes softened.

“First of all, this is standard procedure. Endeavor, Mirko, Eraserhead, all those UA students are going to have to get one too. Second, even if it wasn’t, what you – what you’ve all gone through would cause even the strongest soldier some kind of stress. We want to make sure that you’re all in the right headspace so that you’re the most prepared you can be going against whatever this enemy is. You have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of others.”

Hawks sat there a moment in silence, absorbing your words. Wondering whether you would be so sympathetic and kind if you knew the truth. He began typing.

“I killed someone,” the unnatural voice said. It came from him, but it didn’t feel like him. It echoed against the walls of the sterile room, void of emotion.

You pulled a chair next to his bed so that you were slightly below his eye level.

“I heard. That must be a lot to carry.”

“You hate me.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m a bad person.”

“You’re not.” You paused, choosing your next words carefully for the fragile hero. “I don’t know what your world is like. I wasn’t there so I don’t know exactly what happened. But I do know that we are both in the business of saving lives, albeit in different ways. My guess is you made a split second decision on what was in the mission’s best interest to save the lives of your colleagues and ultimately the lives of civilians. Nobody has a crystal ball to know whether that was the best or right choice. But it was a life or death situation, and you did the best you could in the moment. It’s natural to feel remorse and guilt, but you can’t let it debilitate you for the rest of your life either.”

What right did you have to comment on such things?

“You’ve never killed someone,” he countered.

“I have. In my OR. There are some people that can’t be saved, no matter how hard you try.”

“I think he was a good person,” he typed, wondering if that negated everything you just said.

“Good people do bad things all the time. It doesn’t make them bad people.” He sighed, swallowing the searing pain as harsh air passed through his lungs. You watched closely as the hero studied his bandaged hands, refusing to make eye contact. “For now, the best thing you can do for yourself and Japan is rest. We need you.”

He sat with your words. It didn’t dawn on him until long after you left the room that you weren’t just talking about Twice.

As you warned, the days passed at a glacial pace. He didn’t enjoy how quickly he acclimated to talking through his phone. He had growing pains from the nubs of his wings that began to poke through his skin. Each day brought a revolving door of doctors and healers and other specialists, by whom he was constantly poked and prodded and observed. Hawks hated every minute of it. Almost every minute.

You came in daily to monitor the progress of his wings. It was the most painful part of his recovery. But you entered his room with a smile and sunny disposition, like you weren’t about to inflict torture on him for thirty minutes. The air hurt his exposed back when you removed the old bandages. It stung when you applied antiseptic to cleanse the area. It felt like he was going to pass out when you ran your gloved fingers along the growth that was coming in. He felt all the more pathetic laying on his stomach as you did your work.

But you did your best to distract him with bad jokes and hospital gossip. Not that you had to put in that much effort. Your presence was distracting enough.

On the fourth day after the battle, you finally got a chuckle out him. What’s black and white and black and white and black and white? He shrugged as you applied ointment. A penguin falling down the stairs. You quickly realized that your methods may have been faulty as his laugh devolved into a coughing fit, his lungs still weak.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Try to remember your box breathing.”

He held his breath at the top of his inhale. Four, three, two, one. Exhale. Four, three, two, one. He repeated this for a minute before his breath finally returned to normal. He gave a thumbs up. I’m ok.

Relief washed over your face. “I’m sorry I made you choke on air. But glad to see you in better spirits today.” He began typing.

“I’m always in good spirits when you’re around.” You bit back a smile no one could see as you started redressing the incoming wings.

“Ah, there he is. Yeah, you’re definitely starting to feel better.”

“Can’t you tell? I’m the pinnacle of health.” The gallows humor was hard to miss despite the monotone robotic voice, the statement in stark contrast to his fully bandaged and hospitalized body.

“You will be, soon enough.” You finished applying new bandages. “That’s it for me today, unless there’s anything else you want to share.”

“Capricorn. 27. Single –“

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” You pulled off your disposable gloves, turning to hide the blush creeping up your neck. “I already knew that from your chart. Nice try,” you teased.

“Didn’t know you were stalking me.”

“Goodbye Hawks, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You knew your faux sternness was hardly believable, as you caught him wink before you closed the door.

Two days later you bumped into Hawks and Best Jeanist in the hallway. You broke into a wide grin when you noticed the two heroes, pleasantly surprised to see just how much progress your patient had made in such a short time.

“Good morning gentlemen.”

“Good morning Dr. y/l/n,” Best Jeanist said with a small bow. Hawks was visibly confused about his formality.

“Please, there’s no need for that. It’s just good to see you back in the land of the living.” Best Jeanist helped fill in the gaps for his perplexed cohort.

“Hawks, Dr. y/l/n was part of the team who developed the drugs to put me in a temporary death-like state to convince Dabi that you’d killed me. We can thank her for setting us up for success to get you undercover.” Hawks knew he missed out on a lot during his covert mission, but had no idea how many parties were involved outside the ordinary network of hero agencies and the Commission. You blushed at the praise.

“It was nothing, really. You guys are the ones doing all the hard work.”

“Truly, we are in your debt,” Best Jeanist piled on. You weren’t used to so much flattery and you had a job to do so you tried to end the conversation.

“Anyways, I have to get to my next patient. Jeanist, keep an eye on your partner. It’s good for him to walk around a little bit but make sure he doesn’t overdo it.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight.” He gave another bow.

“I’m right here,” Hawks typed, unamused by the turn of the exchange.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, Hawks,” you yelled over your shoulder before disappearing down the next corridor.

The session later that day was nothing out of the ordinary. The nubs sprouting from his back had formed into tiny but well-defined wings and he was able to sit up during exams as opposed to lying face down on the hospital bed. All signs of positive progress.

He watched wistfully as you documented your observations, swaying his legs off the side of the bed like a child.

“They’re coming in quite nicely, I’m really happy with where you’re at.”

“Great what do I need to sign to get out of here?”

“Ahhh not so fast. You have to stay at least another two days and even once you’re discharged, you most certainly are not ready to return to active duty.” He pouted underneath his respirator mask.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sorry, just doing my job.” You proceeded to check his other vitals before heading out. First you took off his mask to check his lymph nodes, pressing your fingers firmly against the outer side of his jaw, moving down his neck. He was acutely aware of the lone thin layer of latex that separated you. He couldn’t stop the warmth that crept up his face, thankful that most of it was still covered. His flushed cheeks may have been under wraps, but he couldn’t hide his quickened pulse from you. You put on your stethoscope and instructed him to breathe deeply a few times, the cold metal circle moving from his upper back, to lower back, to his chest.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Your lungs are sounding better but your heart’s beating like crazy.”

He feigned surprise, which was much easier when he didn’t have to control his own voice. “Really? That’s odd, no one else’s said anything.”

You pulled up his chart again to check the inputs of all the other practitioners who’ve treated the hero since his arrival at Central Hospital. All values normal.

“On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you in at this point?”

“Two or three.”

“Are you feeling nervous about anything?” He chewed his lower lip trying to think of a way to get out of this, knowing that if he said no you would run more tests which would be unnecessary and prolong his stay.

“Yes,” he lied. Kind of. He actually was a little nervous, though definitely not for the reason you likely thought. You brought your chair next to his bed again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” A loaded question.

“No.” The good thing about talking through his phone and the mask was that he could get away with saying less. Sympathetic people tended to not ask follow up questions.

“Okay. Well, you know I’m always here if you ever want to talk.” You spoke slowly, your reassuring voice laced with uncertainty. It was difficult to get a read on him when you couldn’t hear the tone of his voice or see his face. “Do you have any questions?” He nodded.

“Will you go on a date with me?” You almost choked on your own saliva. You blushed, but forced yourself to remain stoic.

“I’m very flattered, but there are strict protocols against physician-patient relationships.” Your stern message was undercut by your stammering, high pitched squeak.

“What if I promise to never get hurt again?” You tried not to smile, knowing it would only egg him on. You were failing.

“You shouldn’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“What if I find a different doc?”

“You’ve gotten awfully good at talking through your phone,” you muttered under your breath.

“Can’t hear you.” Despite his mostly covered face, you could tell from the crinkle around his eyes that he was enjoying every moment of this interrogation.

“I-I’d have to take it up with the Board of Ethics.”

“That’s not a no.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Can I say one more thing?” You sighed, bracing yourself for whatever nonsense he was about to spew.

“I’d rather you didn’t but legally I think I have to say yes.” You watched as his thumbs frantically moved over the keyboard.

“Thank you for taking care of Best Jeanist. This operation wouldn’t’ve gotten so far without him or you.”

“Oh.” Your felt your heartbeat in your throat. “Again, just doing my job. Glad I could help.” You fiddled with some papers. “Let’s try this one more time. Do you have any other questions… about your health.”

Hawks shook his head, looking exceptionally pleased with himself. Despite the fact that you wanted to scold him for the bizarre interaction, you were reassured by his pleasant disposition, one you hadn’t seen since he arrived.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow rolled around but you entered an empty sterile room, bed ready for a new patient. After a few seconds your confusion passed and you saw red.

You stormed down the hall in search for any hospital staff, until a poor resident had the unfortunate luck of being in your path.

“Where the hell is my patient?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“Room 3409. Yesterday my patient was there and today the room is empty. He wasn’t ready to be discharged so where is he?”

“I-I-I don’t know ma’am, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. y/l/n, this is a hospital, not wrestlemania if you could keep it down please. And stop traumatizing the junior residents.” Hawks’ pulmonologist emerged from his office and tried to placate you. You glowered at the first young doctor as he silently excused himself from the conversation that was definitely beyond his paygrade.

“Please tell me he got moved to a different wing.”

“I’m afraid not.” He spoke again before you could let out another outburst. “I warned him of the risks of a premature discharge, to which he insisted he was feeling fine and that those were risks he was willing to take. I had him fill out some paper work and a consent form and he left this morning.” Your nostrils flared as you silently seethed.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that so I don’t have to report you. Oh, and one more thing…” The doctor took a deep breath before proceeding, worried he may end up the subject of your wrath. “This is probably terrible timing, but – he requested to take you off his care team,” your eyes widened “…and should he be re-hospitalized that you not be involved.”

“WHAT?” You continued mumbling a string of profanities under your breath. The doctor continued slowly and calmly.

“He made it very clear it had nothing to do with the quality of care he received from you. But he uh, mentioned something about a potential conflict of interest.” He took a step back as you burned an imaginary hole through his head with your retinas. “I cannot emphasize enough how much I do not want to know any more information about this.”

“There is no more information about it because it doesn’t exist!” You wanted to scream. “Fuck him. Fuck you. Fuck this hospital. I’msosorryItakethoselasttwoback.” You stomped your foot down like a petulant child before storming off. “FUCK!”

By the next day you had cooled off, that is, until you saw Hawks loitering outside Endeavor’s room as you were making your rounds.

“YOU!” you boomed. Hawks’ excitement to see you was quickly replaced with fear as you approached and you were close enough that he could see the rage steaming off you.

“Hey doc,” he said sheepishly.

“Don’t you ‘hey doc’ me.” You were very close to his face. He was sure he would’ve felt your breath if he didn’t have the stupid respirator mask on. For a split second he thought about taking it off but realized that would only further enrage you. “What the hell were you thinking?”

He began typing but you swatted his hand before he could answer. “Ow.”

“And you –“ Best Jeanist would be the next recipient of your verbal lashings. “You said you would keep an eye on him. Liar.”

Hawks had never seen his colleague scared before, but there was a first for everything.

“He just wanted to come for a ride-along, I promise he stayed in the car the whole time!”

“I have never been more disappointed,” you said in a low voice. Best Jeanists bowed.

“I am very ashamed and deeply regret my actions. I am sorry.” That seemed to pacify you momentarily. You returned your wrath to Hawks.

“I told you you’re not ready to return to the field. And now I hear you’re refusing to receive treatment from me? I cannot explain to you how embarrassed and insulted I am.” You allowed him time to type this time as Best Jeanist stood there as witness, desperately wishing for the floor to open below and swallow him whole.

“You’re right. I’m not ready. But this enemy is moving too quickly, time is of the essence. I’m in good enough shape that I can help off the field. I’m sorry I went against your professional judgement.” You continued to glare at him with pursed lips.

“And?”

“And I was being proactive. I’m taking you on that date.” Your face flushed immediately while the avian hero somehow remained shameless. You did your best to maintain your composure.

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.” You crossed your arms defensively.

“After a stunt like this, I wouldn’t be so sure. Plus, since you’ve already taken it upon yourself to be discharged I’m not sure why you’re even here.”

“Now that we know about the Todoroki family connection to Dabi, we need to gather intel. Also need to consolidate info from those at the Jaku Hospital attack. Off-field work, if you will.” Your eyes narrowed, only to be met with undeterred playful golden irises.

“Fine, I’ll allow it. But I feel the need to make it known that I’m not happy about it.” The injured hero smiled again.

“Thanks, doc.”

“Again, our sincerest apologies for the mishap.” Best Jeanist did his best to make up for his companion’s clear lack of repentance.

You only gave the heroes a parting glare as you walked away.

The rest of the day passed, otherwise uneventful but long and exhausting. You kept a professional and pleasant face for the benefit of your patients, but it was getting hard to maintain after all you’d seen in the last seven days since the attacks. Yes, there were cases of miraculous recoveries in the face of overwhelming trauma. But far more frequent were lives that were forever altered by all that had transpired, not just for patients themselves but all the other souls connected to those individuals. The hospital was at capacity, and each bed represented not just one person but a web of lives that now had to face a new crippling reality. If you thought about it too much you could cry – which you did, in the nearest break room or supply closet if had even just two minutes between appointments. Thus, your favorite part of the day became doing paperwork in your office at the end of your shift. It was methodical and soothing, and allowed you to disassociate.

It was at that moment when you were enjoying your oasis that an intern rushed into your office, disturbing your peace.

“There’s an emergency on the top floor, you need to come quick.” You immediately got up and followed her down the hall and up the elevator, asking clarifying questions about the situation.

But when you entered the room in question, all you saw was a picnic blanket on the hospital bed, two champagne flutes, a bottle, and the number two hero. The intern shrank in the doorway.

“I’m really sorry, he said he would send me a bunch of merch if I could get you here.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” You rubbed your temples, hoping it would transport you to another dimension where you never went to medical school and thus would not be here. “You are not to accept a single thing from him, do you understand?” The intern nodded aggressively. “Now go, I’m sure you have better places to be, ideally with a patient who actually needs help.” The intern scurried away without another word.

“And you,” now turning to Hawks. “Bribing medical professionals? Super illegal.”

“Sorry.” His mischievous eyes said otherwise, clearly undeterred by your scolding. You scoffed.

“No you’re not.” He shrugged. You took a closer look at the set up. “Seems kinda wasteful, doesn’t it? You can’t even drink.”

He turned the bottle to show the label. Sparkling nonalcoholic cider. The corners of your lips tugged upwards, threatening to betray your steely exterior.

Any semblance of a smile quickly vanished, however, when he removed his respirator mask.

“What are you –“ He spoke before you could protest or before he lost his nerves.

“I’m going to be gone for a really long time after today. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if I’ll be back.” He cautiously grabbed your hands. “Regardless of which it is, I really want to make sure I don’t break any promises.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in when he paused. You suddenly found it hard to keep eye contact.

“This is a hospital, not the Make A Wish Foundation.” Despite your icy response, you made no effort to pull your hands away from him. He gently rolled his thumb over your knuckles, trying to memorize every ridge and crease.

Most of his face was still covered in bandages, but you liked that you could now see how his lips curved into a lopsided smirk, punctuated by laugh lines that formed around the corners of his mouth. You liked knowing that you were responsible for it. Your mind concocted imaginary circumstances of other things you could do to get him to make the same perfect expression. Your eyes lifted to meet his when you were done daydreaming.

“I thought they were one in the same.” He was insufferable. His arms fell to his sides when you separated yourself from him. For a moment he almost looked like the defeated shell of himself that was in your care a week ago. But it was quickly washed with relief when he saw you grab the bottle.

“You are the worst patient I’ve ever had.” A satisfying *pop* echoed in the room. He knew your words were hallow, as your acquiescence was rewarded with the hero’s bright eyes and heartfelt smile that made your heart beat in time with the little bubbles that evaporated around you. You handed him a glass of cider, his fingers ghosting over yours as he took the flute from you that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not your patient anymore.”

445 notes · View notes

neesieiumz · 11 months ago

Text

𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑼𝑩'𝑺 𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑳𝑬 || ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ

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

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

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

word count | 44k

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

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

Unneeded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honeyed Orchards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Welcome to Honeyed Orchards

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

Knock twice before entering, please.

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

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

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

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

Pick-your-own tour – $70 per person

Catering/To-Go Menu

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

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

Dozen → $15

Apple-Pomegranate Cobbler – $25

Apple-Rum Spiced Cake – $45

Apple Upside-Down Cake – $35

Double Crust Apple Pies – $20 per pie

Fried Apple Pies – $20 per pie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kento Nanami.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Honeyed Orchards was your heart and soul.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As well as your ex-boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you have no idea why he’s here?”

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

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

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

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

Kento: The only really interesting thing is the Orchard,

Suguru: when’s your meeting?

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

Suguru: in the cold? Your gonna get sick

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

Suguru: Hmm, tell us how it goes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He felt heat overtake his body at your words, pink blooming once again at his cheeks before looking away from you, nodding his head.

With no other words exchanged, he handed you your two plastic bags, before following behind you back to your orchard. When the two of you arrived, you led him towards the back, where he suddenly noticed a lot of construction and caution tape around a certain portion of the house, in an area that was supposed to be the corner of the house, built in the middle of the side of the house and the back. It was obvious that it was new, the colors around it much brighter than the rest of the terracotta orange color of the house.

“What’s this,” he couldn’t help but ask, pointing at the addition to the house.

Glancing over at what he was pointing at, before smirking, “that is the Honeyed Orchard’s bakery-cafe, set to reopen in a few days.”

Bakery-cafe? Was this why you were offering classes, to promote the re-opening? He thought to himself as he looked at the building, seeing something through the window closest to him. Suddenly, before he could see what the interior was, cold hands came up and wrapped themselves around his eyes, blocking his vision.

“Hey–” he started, but he felt you beginning to guide him away from the cafe.

“No peeking! You can see along with everyone else how it looks. Right now, help me put these things inside please!”

Your hands were soft, that was his first thought, heat radiating within him once again. What was wrong with him? He couldn't help but question, it was like his body was transported back to grade school when he would notice girls for the first time, and he had no courage to even speak to them, only placing himself nose first in a book. Disappointment rattled through him the moment you let go, leading him towards the back of the house. Together, the two of you carried all the stuff into the back, inside the kitchen.

The first thing he saw was silver, lots of silver. Tall, rectangular contraptions, with glass doors, and in them he could see pastries all lined up on trays. There were rows of them, all lined up against the back wall.

“Am I… am I supposed to be here?” Kento couldn't help but ask, turning his head to where you were only to see you approach with a basket in hand.

You tilted your head, an “eeehhh…” coming out of your mouth, “well no, but I trust you.” you pressed your manicured finger against your plump glossy lips.

He felt glad at your words, helping you place the heavy glass pitchers and jars on the empty counters, as well as helping you organize all the seasonings and herbs. Soon the bags were empty and the wagon was clear of any items, so you easily folded up the wagon before placing it in the storage closet in the kitchen.

“Wait, before you go!” you exclaimed, walking up to one of the tall containers, opening it up, before using the pair of tongs by it and pulling out one of the many treats. He came closer to you as you wrapped up the… what seems to be a glazed donut with pretty parchment paper, red-checkered with little apples dotted within a few of the white squares. Now fully, wrapped up, suddenly you handed it to him.

“For all your help, Kento,” you said, “it’s a glazed apple-cake donut, I couldn’t let you see the inside of the cafe, but I can let you have one of the pastries that we’ll be selling.”

He held his hands up, about to decline, saying he didn’t need it, despite his stomach turning, his inner feelings craving any treat that was made by your hand. However, the final nail was put into the coffin by the obvious rumble of his stomach stopped him from even saying a word. He blushed as you giggled at the noise, urging him to take the apple donut.

“Th… thank you,” is all he said, taking the donut, pushing some of the parchment paper, glancing over at you, with a nervous smile on your face, teetering on the tips of your toes, waiting for his reaction.

With that he took a bite, eyes widening at the soft riches of the donut, covered in the sweet brown sugar-cinnamon glaze. Before he knew it, he was taking another, much larger bite. How is it that everything you make tastes like magic to him?

“I’m assuming that you like it?” you couldn’t help but ask, watching as Kento nodded his head, mouth full of donuts.

As he ate, the two of you walked outside, soon ending up at the entrance of your fence, just as Kento finished the last of his donut. By the time the two of you got outside, the sun had almost fully set, the coolness of the afternoon now slowly turning into a frigid evening. Turning towards him, feeling your eyes on him as he cleaned his mouth of any lasting crumbs.

“Thank you again, I had fun today, Kento,” you told him, smiling.

Kento towards you, not wanting to go, wanting to spend the whole night talking to you, but he also knew you needed to prepare for the festival, and he’s definitely seeing you tomorrow. With that, he suddenly took a step towards you, reaching down for your bare hand. Your eyes widen as you suddenly feel him place a warm kiss on your cold knuckles. His heart was racing as he did this, he didn't even know why he was doing this. Something, a new voice within him, the same one that was guiding his actions today, told him to do this. When he gauged your reaction, seeing your eyes and mouth widen open, your free hand suddenly placed against your heart. Speechless, he left you speechless, and something within him blossomed at that, a smile appearing on his face.

“Thank you for today, I had fun as well, and I’ll see you tomorrow, trust me,” that was the last thing he said, before turning around and making his way down the road.

He began to make his way down the road, and after a few more seconds, he turned his head, only to see you still standing there, eyes slightly spaced out. However, when you noticed that his head was turned around, you lifted up the hand he kissed, waving at him before yelling that you better see him tomorrow. He smiled, turning around, before making his way down the road, back to his inn room.

The first thing he noticed was the bonfire, huge, and in the middle of the square. Its red-hot fiery anger radiated a decent radius, allowing those who stood or sat near it to warm up from the cold. Kento tucked his gloved hands in his pocket, muttering “excuse me’s” as we walked past the group of giggling teenage girls who eyed him with stars in their eyes. Even so, he had only one goal in mind, keeping his eyes on the moving crowd, moving with them as they walked towards the festival. Above the entrance, he could see a huge banner, spreading from one side to another, with a black background, allowing the white, silver, and ice blue lettering and designs to pop out even more. He kept his eyes on it as much as he could, until he found himself within the town square, one fully transformed just for the Viburnum Festival. All around, different stands, showing off different games, prizes, and whatnot surrounded him. CHildren’s joy was all around, Kento couldn’t help but smile at a kid who won a huge plush off of some cartoon show he’d never heard of.

He couldn’t lie, it entertained him, just how everyone enjoyed themselves, with no worries, and how families enjoyed themselves for just one night. A family… a bitter smile stretched across Kento’s face, the image of his father sleeping and drinking his life away, his only living family.

“Kento!” His name being yelled out, broke him out of his trance, looking up and glancing around until he saw a waving hand not too far from him.

His eyes widened as he saw you standing right next to a booth, a booth that currently looked like the busiest one out of the entire festival. He eyed the long line, before making his way over to you. Your braids were down, the French curls reaching the small of your back, while you tucked your hand back into the black overcoat you were wearing. Around your neck, you had a lavender-purple scarf wrapped around it.

He made it to you, and your smile was wide, your pearly whites gleaming underneath the hanging lights the town put up for the festival.

“You really did come!” you exclaimed.

A short smile appeared on his face as he smiled down at you, “I told you that I would, now didn’t I?” He said, glancing over at the booth, seeing the line beginning to get even longer.

You turned your head, smiling at what Kento was seeing before turning back at him, “yeah, that’s not an uncommon sight when these festivals come around. Come, let me take you there!”

Before he could say anything, you had suddenly hooked your arm around his, which helped that his hands were still pocketed. You guided him over to the table, where he could see just what was happening.

Seeing pink spiky hair, Kento could see, that Yuuji, the boy who signed him up for the class, took orders and money, while two other teenagers, a boy with black, spiky hair and a girl with a ginger bob, were handing out the orders to people, operating as fast as they could. Behind the three of them, there were three more, who all seemed to be getting all the inventory of stuff ready. Kento could see the wrapped-up donuts, tars, and even bottles of apple cider all being placed.

“Wow,” he couldn’t help but say, “is it always so busy for you?”

You nodded your head, “yeah, this festival brings a lot of people from far and near, people who just want a glimpse within life here, people who used to live here coming back for a visit. It’s not a surprise for us, and even other places to be so busy.”

A whistle left his mouth as he continued to observe your booth, watching the flow of traffic flow.

“Do you want me to introduce everyone to you, or do you want to go see the rest of the festival?”

He looked down at you, “don’t you think you should help them?” Once again, look at the line, “it’s a lot of people here.”

You waved off his concerns, “that’s what I pay them for, this isn’t their first rodeo.”

The look of concern still must have not left Kento’s face because next you said, “but if it really does get hectic, then they all have my number, they can call me and we’ll come back running back.”

At that, Kento relaxed, and with that, you waved bye at your employees, before telling them to call you if things get too hectic for them. They all waved bye back at you, before focusing back on their work. The two of you soon intermingled with the crowd, walking side by side as you took him all around, showing off each and every booth, table, and open-doored business.

“That’s Mrs. Prechitt,” you pointed to a lady who was selling pies while wearing… very interesting headwear.

“Is that a pie on her head? Like an actual pie from the oven on her head?” Kento didn't think before speaking, the first thing he thought of was leaving his mouth.

You muffled your giggles with your hand, but you nodded your head, “we tell her every year that it’s not safe, but every year she doesn’t listen. She does make a very mean peach pie though.” Your words were slowly overcome with laughter with every second as you could see the disgusted look on Kento’s face.

Your other hand came up around his arm, holding yourself up as you laughed out loud. Kento looked down at your face, overcome with mirth, and felt warm, knowing that pink was staining his cheeks and it just wasn’t from the cold. With a sniffle, Kento saw as you picked yourself up, wiping your tears away with your gloved hands. Once you were composed, with no words, the two of you walked past her, waving at her as you did. Noticing you, her eyes brightened, waving back as the pie on her head moved with her head.

“Let’s hope it won't fall on someone and cause third degree burns on someone,” Kento muttered, and you only shook your head, but continued to show him around the festival.

While showing him around, your eyes landed on a booth selling funnel cake, and you felt your stomach lurch. The line, luckily, wasn’t too long, with Kento paying for your plate when the two of you waited in line for it.

“You know I can pay for my own stuff, right?” you asked, grabbing a fork and a few napkins as he held your funnel cake in his hands.

“I know.” is all he said, before handing you the funnel cake once you were situated.

You looked up at him, smiling and shaking your head. A gentleman, he was, through and through, before the two of you continued walking, this time with your arms no longer hooked as you ate your funnel cake. Still, through your bites, you showed him around the festival, telling him about each booth and how long they had been coming around.

Lifting another piece of funnel cake on your fork, just about to go out in your mouth, before glancing at Kento who was looking ahead. Before you knew it, you were holding your fork close to his mouth, a piece of funnel cake slightly steaming.

“You want some,” you teased, your heart beginning to pace faster as you realized what you were doing.

However, before you could pull it away, play it off as some kind of joke, Kento opened his mouth before pulling the piece of funnel cake off your fork and eating it.

“Hmm,” he hummed, chewing on the piece, “not too bad, but it pales in comparison to what you could make.”

Your mouth fell open, looking at him, looking at, giving his own soft smile, before facing forward. Letting out a shaky breath, your brush with his sudden boldness caused heat to rise up your body.

“Where’d all that come from,” you couldn’t help but ask, still trying to recover from the fact that his words and wink almost sent you squealing like a schoolgirl.

Using your fork to cut another piece of funnel cake, only to hear Kento say, “just speaking the truth.”

Your truth is causing me heart palpitations, you thought to yourself, cutting another piece of your funnel cake with your fork, and eating it as well. Just as you were about to finish the last of your cake, your phone suddenly rang.

You looked over at Kento, but you didn't have to say anything. You had to gently take your cake and fork out of your hands, giving you your napkin to wipe your hands clean of powdered sugar and oil as best as you could before fishing out your phone. Looking at the caller ID, eyes widening at the sight of Yuta being the one calling you.

“Hello, Yuta? Hey, what’s going on?” You answered, only to be met with a bunch of commotion over the line.

“Yeah, boss, you might wanna get down here. One of the customers threw a donut at Yuuji and now Mefumi is trying to hurt him, the rest of them can only hold him back for so long.”

Your eyes widened, “threw a donut?? at Yuuji??”

You glanced over at Kento who looked stunned at what you said, before gesturing for him to follow you. The two of you made your way through the crowd, speed walking as much as you could without being rude as you pressed Yuta for more details.

“Well, from what I heard from Nobara, before she went to hold Megumi back, that the guy ordered a donut, that’s what all three of them heard, but whenYuuji went to give it to him, the guy got into a fit, yelling that he ordered a tart. Yuuji tried to say he especially ordered a donut, but he wasn't having it. Megumi tried to step in, and that's when the donut was thrown, and now it's all chaos over here. Will you be here in time?”

Before you could say anything, you could suddenly hear loud rucks happening as you two got closer and closer to your booth, where a crowd was surrounding you.

“I’m here,” is all you said to Yuta, before ending the call, telling people to move as politely as possible.

However, a hand suddenly pulled you back, looking back and seeing Kento push ahead of you, before easily using his strength to push back the crowd, not even bothering to apologize, before leading you to the front to see the full extent of what happened.

The first thing you notice is the absolute anger on Megumi’s face, as he struggles in his cousin's, and Nobara’s hold. Yuuju was standing beside them, along with Toge, who was trying his best to examine Yuuji’s eyes, which were covered but you could tell a bit of purplish coloring was beginning to bloom on his skin. Not too far from them, on the other side of the booth, was a short, stocky man with some sort of glee on his face, as if he took in some sick joy in the way Megumi was reacting. With him was a woman, who was recording everything, her words easily taunting Megumi, who only fell for it, his anger like a rushing angry tidal wave, and he couldn't wait to crash into the poor, unsuspecting people.

Yut a was the first to notice you, “Boss!”

At those words, everyone turned, only to see you coming in behind Kento, “What is going on?!” Your voice is loud, and angry, with your hands at your sides.

However, before any of your kids could say anything, a camera was suddenly shoved in front of your face, the flash causing you to hiss as the bright light dulled your vision, spots entering into your vision. Your hand came up, trying to push away whoever this was, and you could barely comprehend the fact that she was suddenly talking about you and your “effectiveness over your employees,” when her words suddenly ceased.

Blinking, allowing your eyes to adjust as you suddenly saw Kento standing right in front of you, holding the woman’s arm, with an angry glare on his face, “watch where you’re pointing that camera,” as all he said, before shoving her back slightly.

“Hey, don’t talk to my wife like that–” However the man’s words were cut short by Kento’s icy glare, the man stopping in his tracks, swallowing whatever he was gonna say next.

The immediate area around you all was silent, all eyes on Kento as he crossed his arms, before speaking, “Now, what happened?”

All at once, everyone began to speak, not allowing anyone else to even speak. You could barely hear a word, when suddenly Kento raised his hand, and just like that, everyone went silent. He took a deep breath, before opening his eyes, before looking over at your kids.

“Can one of you say what happened, only one, please?” he said.

Walking closer, only see Maki slowly let go of Megumi before taking a step closer, taking a breath before explaining everything that happened. She also heard the guy order a donut, her hearing a bit better than the two guys in the back doing inventory with her. She saw the commotion and went to intervene when she saw the guy throw the donut at Yuuji.

When Maki said that, Kento turned towards the guy, who was now fidgeting, sweating, as if it wasn’t going as he expected it at all to go down.

“Did anyone else hear this man order a donut as well?”

Looking around, your eyes widened at the sight of the few hands, most of whom were at the front of the line, all raising their hands as well. Kento then turned his glare back onto the stocky man, who jumped the moment he was looking at him,

“You’re gonna tell me all these people were lying about you ordering a donut?” Is all Kento asked, raising an eyebrow.

The man began to stutter, “we…well, I mean, I mean no, but–,” but he was effectively cut off by Kento picking up this man easily with one hand.

Your eyes widened as he dropped the man right in front of Yuuji, whose eyes were wide-eyed in surprise as well, “apologize to him, now!”

“I’m… I’m sorry!” the short man yelped out, tears of fear streaming down his face.

You couldn't help but take a glance at his wife, who was no longer recording, but instead shaking with fear at the sight of her husband. A bit of noise cut your attention behind you when suddenly two officers came through the crowd. Immediately recognized one of them as Yuuji’s older half-brother, who was very overprotective of said boy. Choso’s eyes scanned through before his eyes landed on his brother, seeing his eye, which was now slowly turning a dark purple.

“Yuuji? What happened?” He called out, rushing over to be by his brother's side.

Everything happened within a blur, with Choso’s partner taking you and everyone else’s statement while Choso was too busy lamenting over his brother and arresting the couple. You let out a breath of relief as they rushed away, with Nobara and Megumi immediately going to take Yuuji to Ieiri, who had her own clinic booth in case of emergencies somewhere around the festival.

Letting out a long breath, running your fingers over your face, and rubbing at your temples. Stress. This was all too stressful, with everything weighing upon you like a ton of bricks. With your uncle’s sudden arrival two days ago, and now your employee– your kid had an injured eye from an agitated “customer” . If you could even call them that, they were trying to write you off before they had even spoken to you. Your legs began to tetter, feeling yourself begin to sway back and forth.

However, a force suddenly came up right beside you, arms coming up, and wrapping themselves around you, holding you up. Moving your hands, only to see concerned brown eyes staring down at you, Kento’s eyes were soft, not like in the frigid glare he had just adorned on his face.

“Are you alright,” his voice was quiet, as he guided you over to the closest chair at your booth.

You nodded your head, taking your seat, “yes, I am, I just couldn't handle seeing Yuuji hurt like that. Oh god,” you groaned, remembering the conversation you had with Kento just before you left the booth

“You were right, I should have never left the booth,” you said, covering your face with your hands once again.

Suddenly, you felt much bigger hands coming around them, pulling them away from your face. Kento looked at you, a smile on his face.

“You couldn’t have predicted an irate man with no sense or rationality to come and attack them like that. I didn’t even predict that, I was only concerned about the amount of work, and you were right in the fact that they could handle it.”

His hands enveloped yours, feeling his gloved thumbs rub into your own, “let’s not let this ruin our night, okay?”

His words elated you, a smile slowly appearing on your face as you nodded, before pushing yourself to your two feet. You dusted yourself off, wiping away the two tears that had begun to fall onto your face. Turning around facing Yuta, Maki, and Toge, telling them to continue pushing the inventory and that you’ll take care of the front. You moved to the front, only to see an off-white overcoat joining you as well. You and Kento smiled at each other, before turning to face the line that had begun to grow again the moment it seemed your booth was back in business.

It was only an hour and thirty minutes, give or take, when you would fully run out of inventory. With that, Yuta deconstructed the booth, while Toge placed the boxes you brought them in the wagons you brought.

“The two of you should get out of here, the three of us can handle this,” Maki said, standing in between the two of you.

You turned towards her, shaking your head, “no, Maki, the three of you are my responsibility, I should have never left you alone–” but she cut you off.

“Don’t let that asshole ruin the plans you had tonight,” she cut through your words, shaking your head.

“We got this, plus Megumi texted me, Shoko patched Yuuji up and Kamo took him home, so he’s fine, and they’re on their way back. We’ll have more help,” she continued, before glancing over your shoulder, where Kento was most likely standing.

“It’s not everyday someone like him comes, you want him to experience everything, if you know what I mean,” she suddenly winked, nudging you.

You let out a gasp, smacking her on the arm, “I do not want to hear that from you, Maki!”

She threw her head back in laughter, before telling you one last time to enjoy your night, before walking away to join Yuta and Toge in cleaning up. You watched as the three of them interacted, working together, smiling at them before turning around, and seeing Kento walking up to you.

Smiling, you held out your arm, “you got time for one more destination?”

Kento looked over at the three of them, before looking back at you, before giving off a soft smile and hooking his arms with you once again. You lead him away, towards your last destination of the night. He watched as the crowd slightly densified as he looked ahead, seeing a familiar warm glow get closer and closer.

Before he knew it, you found yourself underneath the Bonfire’s glowing light, surrounded by many others, couples all wrapped with each other. Sultry, soulful music played through the loudspeakers as people handed out glasses of champagne, low voices whispered underneath music as Kento and you entered right back into the middle of the square, completely transformed from when he first arrived. Glowing lights were hanging across from the streetlight.

The two of you soon entered from a corner, you two watched, sipping on two glasses of complimentary champagne as everything around you swayed, the people moving like waves in the ocean.

“I remember one year when we came, and my parents escaped after a little but,” you began to reminisce, mixing into the crowd, “my grandmother was cleaning up, and needed help but told me not to bother them and find someone else.”

Kento’s eyes widened as he looked over at you, watching a wistful look in your eye as you stared ahead at the crowd. Interested, he watched as you began to sway up and down, on the tips of your toes, the sweet alcohol in your glass swirling within your hands.

“However, I didn’t listen and went to go and find them,” you recounted that day as well as you could count to five on one hand.

“I slipped past the adults, and came here and found them slow dancing, right about there,” you pointed out to a certain area, where there happens to be another couple dancing right there.

“My mom’s head was on my dad’s shoulders, and her eyes were closed, and my dad was looking straight ahead, yet would glance at my mom every so often, and his smile would get bigger every time he did so.” You reminisced, taking another sip of your sparkling wine.

“That day, I stood there and watched them for over at least ten minutes, before I remembered that my grandmother needed help, and went over there to get them. I was a little scared that they were going to be mad. I interrupted their dance, but luckily they weren’t.”

Your smile was wide, but a bittersweet one, the memories of your parents before their demise weighing heavily upon you. The two of you were already standing pretty close, but he couldn't help but take another step towards, fully closing the gap between you. An idea suddenly spurred within him, swinging the last of his champagne, before placing it on the brick hedge wall not too far from you before placing his hand out.

“Dance with me, please?” His cheeks were bright pink, and he almost stuttered on the word “dance”, but still, he watched as your eyes widened, but still he saw that bittersweet smile turn genuine, before placing your glass down, before placing your gloved hand into his own.

He cleared his throat, using his other hand to cover his mouth as he led you underneath the glowing LED lights, standing close enough to the fire so he could feel its radiating warmth, but not too close for him to consider it to be a hazard. His already pink cheeks deepened in color the moment he felt your hand slide up his chest, before resting right on his shoulder. His right hand slid around your waist, and then your two free hands intertwined, fingers locking together.

At first, it was all silent between the two of you, but the two of you were locked eyes, unable to look away from each other. He tried to keep his heart under control, but Kento knew he couldn’t the more he looked into your eyes, which steadily glowed with an emotion he couldn’t decipher. His heartbeat only quickened when you suddenly gave him a smile, before suddenly placing your head right on his chest, looking down.

“Your heart is beating really fast, Kento,” you whispered, but he could still hear you loud and clear, “do I make you nervous?” you asked him, slightly breathless, looking back up at him, your head still lying against his chest.

His heart jumped at the sudden eye contact, and he suddenly found his throat dry, but his body language did all the speaking for him, watching as a giggle left your lips. You shifted your head, now only resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, still swaying against the beat of the music.

“I’m really glad I met you, Kento,” you mumbled, suddenly letting go of his hand, him watching as you slid the hand that rested on his shoulder around his waist, your other hand joining you.

With a now free hand, tentatively, it joined his other hands at your waist, suddenly pulling the two of you closer. He could feel your bosom pressing up against him, as well as every breath you took.

“I’m glad I met you too,” he spoke back, just as quietly as you.

And for a moment, he couldn’t take in anything but the two of you, as if you two were the only ones here. He couldn’t hear the music, he couldn't smell the faint burning wood of the bonfire, he could no longer feel the bite of Jack Frost’s winter brushing against his skin, nothing. All he could hear was your heartbeat, which was pacing as fast or maybe even faster than his own. All he could smell was you, the fairness of red currant, and cinnamon, radiant and decadent, all-consuming. All he could feel was heat, not from the bonfire, but from within, pulsating heat that spread throughout his body, heat that was controlled by every time you touched him, looked at him and even spoke to him.

He took another look at you, his final confirmation for the budding feeling within him, the bud that grew into an almost blossoming rose, and in so little time as well. Well, who could blame him? As one of his hands suddenly reached up, caressing at your cheek, your eyes slowly widening yet, you snuggled into the warmth of his glove. Despite the barrier between you two, he could still feel it. Tentatively, he began to bring your face closer to him, with you slowly pressing yourself up on the tips of your toes.

And then he felt it, the feeling of sticky pressure against his lips, and it felt like fireworks went off within him. Your hands slid into his short, blonde hair, keeping him in place as the kiss deepened. You tasted sweet, powdered sugar, pancakes, cinnamon, and fermented sweet grapes as well. While sweet, it was not the temporary taste of what you ate that urged him, that spurred him to continue to kiss you. It was your underlying essence underneath it that kept him wanting more of you. Slowly, he got addicted, his other hand leaving your waist, coming up to the other side of your face, keeping you right where he wanted you.

He almost crumbled at the sweet moan that left your lips, as it was readily swallowed by the kiss. Kento could feel his lungs screaming at him, yet he couldn't find any other reason to let go. However, his reprieve yet disappointment was met as he felt you slowly let go of his lips. The two of you were heavy with breath, heaving as the two of you stared at each other, both of your eyes glancing in between each other’s eyes and lips.

“We…” he heard you start, your voice as breathless as his own, “we should…”

You could not continue your words, but yet, he felt your hand slide right on top of his own, which still rested on your waist, before guiding it down, making him rest on your bottom. He already guessed what you were talking about, and that action pushed him into further action. It was much like out of a fairytale, the way he held you close as he whisked you away. Before he knew it, he was entering the corridor of his inn, his temporary place of living much closer than the orchard. His hand fished for his key as he pulled you up to the sole elevator. The moment the doors closed, the two of you were right back onto each other like the way two perfectly fitted and formed puzzle pieces.

“Kento,” you gasped, as you suddenly jumped, your dress crumpling up around your waist, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding you up with ease.

He pressed you up against the wall of the elevator, his lips almost immediately ravishing your own as the metal box slowly lifted up, taking you and him to the floor of his room. The bright light of the elevator allowed him to gaze upon your face fully. He watched the desperation, your desperation fully blooming on your face as you kissed him once again. Said desperation was shared between said kiss, his body, and your own moving in tandem. Your hips ground into him, against the erection that pressed up against his slacks.

Then a ding interrupted him, before hearing the door rumbling. Quickly, he felt your legs drop down from his waist, but you intertwined your hands with him before he pulled you through the door, his steps quick and brisk as he led you down the hallway. The hallway lights were dimmed to accommodate those who were sleeping, the creme walls and with the dark brown wood lining up at the bottom, gave the inn a sterile feeling, but it didn’t matter. Turning a brisk right, his free hand digging into his pocket, before pulling out the key that led into his room. However, his excitement and his hands shaking suddenly caused him to drop it, just before he could put the key into the doorknob.

He bent down, but before he could pick it up, your hand came around, slowly picking it up, and holding it in front of him. Taking steps, using your waist to bump him out the way over so slightly, before grabbing the doorknob, putting the key in, and slowly unlocking the door. The moment the door swung open, it was like he pounced upon you like a wild animal. His hands wrapped around you, a slight gasp in the form of his name leaving your mouth before sweet giggles followed as well. His foot kicked the door closed the moment he entered the dark room.

He dropped you right on the bed, before climbing onto you, enveloping your lips into a new, electrifying kiss. Your arms and hands came up, wrapping around his neck and shoulders before pulling him closer. Kento cracked in between your legs, the tightness of his pants pressing up against your panties. He could feel the dampness against the fabric, as his hands slowly slid up your sides, feeling every single curve and crevice within your body. His thumbs pressed girls right on your pelvis, while your hands slid from his back, sliding underneath his jacket, before slowly pushing the heavy fabric off of him. For a moment, Kento let go of the kiss, heavy breaths echoing into the otherwise empty room. He allowed you to push the jacket fully off him, revealing his button-down shirt. His hands moved towards your own jacket, your back arching as he pulled the jacket off you as well, before throwing it into an obscure corner.

“Kento,” you gasped again, “is this… is this a bad idea?”

He leaned back down, feeling your hands slide up his chest, before resting on his shoulders. Your foreheads touched, and for a moment, the two of you said nothing, just staring into each other's eyes. A flurry of emotions within your eyes, most of them he could not decode, yet the one that he could was need, and desire.

With nothing else in exchange, it was like the two of you made your realizations at the same time, jumping on each other at the same time. Kento’s hands grabbed at your waist, before pulling you up, sitting up on his bed, and placing you in his lap. Your hands ran over his wrinkled shirt, before your manicured fingers fumbled away at his buttons, slowly unbuttoning it while still locked into your kiss. A groan erupted from Kento’s throat as you pressed up against his clothed hard-on in a certain manner. It rumbled through him, and he could feel your body shake through the aftermath as well.

Your eyes drifted down at the sight in front of you, eyes fluttering, your mouth almost drooling at him. Although his shirt was only half down, you could see his muscles bulging from his shirt the moment you flung his jacket off of him. What… What were you doing? It had been long, too long since you’ve been this close with a man. Especially one that made you feel… as coveted as you felt with Kento. In so little time, you’d been wrapped within him, in every sense of the way. The moment you peeled back his shirt, seeing his chest and arm hair peeking from the shirt, it was like something fully awakened within you.

Letting go of the kiss, your hands fumbling with his shirt, desperate to open it to its fullest. Your foreheads pressed against each other, heavy pants leaving your mouths as you felt his larger fingers pull at the stretchy material of your dress, feeling cool against your legs as he slowly pulled up the garment as best as he could. Before you knew it, you were in your bra and panties, while he was half-naked. Your hands then moved to his pants, fiddling at the belt, the metal clanking into the room. Once the zipper was down, Kento lifted himself up, helping you take his pants off before watching as you threw them across the room.

He took you right back into his arms, before pressing the two of you right into the bed, wearing nothing but his boxers. You could feel his hard-on, pressing up against the thin fabric of boxers, aching to be released from its entrapment. Your hands fidgeting, you want to put them everywhere, his hair, on his face, you want to create crimson streaks against his back as he ground himself into you. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, and your moans were swallowed up once again by the kiss. The Kento above you was different from the one you’ve experienced, he was just as desperate as you, in fact, it was even more desperate than you. You could feel every needling emotion in his kisses. You wished to say that it was inexperienced deprivation but–

You let out a particularly loud moan, still muffled by the kiss, as you felt his fingers press up against your clothed clit, his two fingers slowly rubbing circles against it, ever so carefully. Letting go of the kiss, watching his face as he stared down at you, his usually kind but tired eyes showing off that same depravity you felt within his kiss. His fingers continued to tease you, and you could feel just how soaked his fingers were becoming even with the fabric barrier.

“Kento,” you let out a breathy moan, only watching him as his fingers hooked underneath the damp fabric.

“So beautiful,” his breath was hot, as he let you go from the kiss, before feeling his lips beginning to press up against your cheek.

As he began to trail down, you could feel his fingers pull the cloth aside, letting out a pant as cool air brushed up against your soaked cunt. Kento let go of your panties, before pressing two of his fingers in between your lips, slowly beginning to press circles within your pussy, his hands skilly sliding in between your folds and your clit. Your hands flew up, grabbing at his naked shoulders, feeling the hairs that grew out of his chest brush up against you as he slowly lowered himself with every kiss. His kisses felt as if they revered you, that familiar desperation only riling you up further. His kisses were now to your breasts, kisses in between the valley, still trapped within their confines. With his free hand, his hand slides behind you, feeling his fingers adeptly unhooking your black lace bra. The lingerie slowly fell from your shoulders, your hands reaching up as much as you could to allow him to take it off of you, also throwing it onto the floor.

The moment his lips wrapped themselves around your nipple he also slipped two fingers inside of you. A loud gasp-like moan left your mouth, your back arching against the mattress. Your nails dug into his back, a hefty groan leaving his mouth, muffled by your breast. You could feel his tongue licking and sucking away at your nipple, while his fingers moved and out of you. It was delicious, how he finger-fucked you carefully. Receiving pleasure from two bouts of ways, an unrelenting euphoric sensation. You were soaked, hearing the wet smacking sounds echoing in the room, along with the sound of Kento’s sucking at your nipple.

“So– oh my god,” your voice cut through itself, feeling the pads of his fingers pressing up within you, right up against your spot.

Your eyes were squeezed closed and yet, even with that, you could still feel the intensity of Kento’s eyes right on you. Soon enough, he let go, cool air breezing up against your wet nipple, before moving his attention to the second nipple. At the same time, a gargled moan left your lips as you felt his thumb press up against your clit once more, pushing up against it before rubbing even deeper circles against it. You could feel him groaning and humming against your breast, rumbles sending euphoric shockwaves within you. His thick fingers stretched you open, slipping in and out of your sopping pussy, your juices dripping all over his hand and your inner thighs.

Slowly opening your eyes, suddenly feeling him let go of your second nipple, cold air hardening them even further. Bending your head down, feeling wet kisses against your wet skin as he trailed down from your breasts towards your stomach. Something within you began to jerk as he got close and closer to your cunt, your breath getting heftier as he pressed soft kisses up against your pelvis as he slowly pulled his drenched fingers out of your pussy. Lining them up with his lips, you watched as your tongue slipped out of his mouth, before licking up your slick, religion in the taste.

You couldn't help the giggle that left your mouth, “ooh, so nasty,” you teased, sticking your own tongue out of your mouth.

Kento glanced up at you, your playful smile widening as you saw his pink blush darken into a more vermillion red. Suddenly, you let out a shriek as you felt your body being dragged down, Kento suddenly dropping onto the floor of his room. Your legs were suddenly bent backward, another squeal leaving your mouth as you felt your body suddenly being bent in half, stretching almost past its limits. You glanced around, seeing your knees above you, and seeing the tips of Kento’s finger grabbing at the back of your thighs, pressing into you.

“Kento? What are you doi–” Your words were cut off by an immense pressure up against your clit and cunt.

Your hands grabbed at the messy sheets and blankets underneath, trying to stabilize yourself as Kento’s wet muscle slipped in between your folds, and your clit as well. your body jerking underneath his actions, back arching up against the bed. Your moans echoed across the room, your head straining to look down at the way his head bobbed into between your legs. Kento licked and sucked away at you like a man deprived of all food, you could feel his lips suck away at your clit, before his tongue moved into your hole. It was like your moans and the wet smacks only spurred him on further.

“Kento,” you moaned his name, toes curling while still in the air.

You tried your best to grind against his face, but his grip on you but you still, all you could do was squirm while he ate away at you. Letting out a mixture of a breath and gasp as Kento slowly relaxed your body, letting your lower back slowly rest upon the bed once more. Through all of that, he didn’t let up, multitasking as he kneeled on the floor. With your back resisting on the bed once more, it gave you free rein to grind and buck your hips against his face, feeling the large tip of his nose bumping up against your clit, inciting you even further. The long-familiar band of tightness begins to build within you. Your cries began to pitch, higher and higher, going up octaves as you felt a sense of convulsions beginning to overtake you. Kento did nothing, your actions not deterring him as he ravished you further and further.

“So good, you’re so good, Kento– fuck!” you squealed as your hips bucked up into the air, against his face harsher than normal.

“Fuck, I’m gonna–” you cut out, “I’m coming, fuck–” It was your only warning towards him as you let out prolonged cries.

With your last words, you felt the band that stretched within you snap, your back arching into the area as your juices spilled from your cunt. They would have hushed out for you, if not for the unsated man who placed himself in between your legs. He lapped away at your slick, a groan leaving his lips as he succumbed to your taste, your scent in full.

Lifting your head up, watching as he slowly lifted his own from you, the two of you locking eyes. His lips and the surrounding area were wet, wet with your cum. With shaky hands and arms, you pushed yourself up, watching as he slowly crawled back up to the bed, back towards you. Like a predator, a high-strung predator, and is ready to catch its short-winded prey. At the same time, you began to crawl back, giving him just enough space to place his body up onto the bed once more. Kento soon towered over you, his hair damp with sweat, falling down in front of his face as his hands were at either side of you.

For a moment, you two just watched each other. You could feel how much your heart raced at this moment, the organ beating even faster as Kenot lowered himself towards you, easing both you and himself into a soft kiss. Your hands came up around his face, caressing him and holding him in place once more. As you kissed you, you could feel Kento’s hands begin to move, to put things in place for the two of you. Not wanting to just lay here, you released his face, before moving your hands down his front, before messing with the thick, elastic band of his boxers. You could hear Kento’s breath hitch as you did so.

Glancing up at him, your eyes shining with concern, “Is this… is this okay?” your voice filled with trepidation because the last thing you wanted was to push him past his brink.

Kento looked down at you, before nodding his head, “it’s perfect, don’t worry.”

His hands were back onto the back of your knees, pushing your legs back as you pulled down the rest of his boxers, his dick springing out from its confines. You shuddered, squirming as his cock slapped up against your stomach, your eyes widening a little at the sheer size of it. However, you made it this far, and no matter what, you knew that you wanted this. With a burst of new confidence, you wrapped your hands around him, before guiding his angry, brown tip toward your cunt

“Fu–” your words cut out into a high-pitched, pain-filled moan as you slowly pressed him inside of you.

Above you, you could hear Kento letting out sharp hisses and pants, his hips slowly moving, as if he was holding himself back. Your free hand reached out, grabbing his arm, gripping at it as you felt him stretching you out further and further.

“Baby, baby wait, slow down, I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice was only a murmur, trembling at the way you stretched around him.

Yet, you shook your head, wanting to take more of him, wanting all of him inside of you, inside of your pussy. However, Kento’s hands reached down grabbing your hand, guiding him inside of you, before pinning you up. His heavyweight and stretch only caused you to squirm, your body thrashing as you felt his hips slowly push in and out of you.

“Kento–” Each movement left you out of breath, unable to speak anything but his name in those moments.

“I need you to relax for me,” he grunted, sweat dripping down from his forehead, “so fucking tight–”

You took deep breaths, trying your best to relax, it had been so long for you since you’d had sex, it was basically like losing your virginity all over again. Kento soon bent down, a long moan escaping from your mouth as his action pushed further into you, yet you could feel his forehead pressing up against you.

“That’s it, baby, just relax, for me,” he continued, his voice low and calm.

With a snap of his hips, and a gargled moan leaving your lips, everything within you just skyrocketed. A high-pitched moan left your mouth, and you could feel Kento beginning to pick up the pace. Your hands still pinned against the bed, could do nothing but watch him, your legs wrapping themselves around his waist, keeping him closer as he bucked into you.

“Oh. Oh!” you let out, ecstasy rushing within your veins, feeling his fat tip press up against your spongy walls.

“Doing so good for me, baby,” he mumbled, “taking me so fucking well too.”

Hearing Kento curse only caused your pleasure to skyrocket, a man as seemingly put-together as him slipping into dirty words. After a few moments, he let go of your hands, his own hands falling onto your waist, squeezing and holding onto his as his hips began to slam into you. A loud cry and your hands found themselves around his own waist, holding onto him as closely as possible. You writhed underneath him, your pussy sopping and drenching his cock, the wet smacks echoing into the room once more.

“Fuck–” you whimpered, “harder, fuck me harder, Kento please–” you gasped, your eyes rolling to the back.

Your words urged him, and he let out a loud string of moans as he pummeled into you. More and more, deeper and deeper, you fell into him. Already, you fell for him, his strength, his calmness, like the calm oceans of tropical beaches, yet at this moment, he was a torrent, a tsunami, and you were ready for him to swallow you whole. All throughout, the familiar tight band, now expanded, began building within you once again.

“Kento,” you stretched out his name, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck—”

“You can let go, baby, don’t worry,” he whispered, his hands squeezing the fat and muscle around your waist.

“Come for me.”

With his final command, you let out a shriek before feeling your cum spill out of you. Your nails dug into his back as your juices spilled all over you, on your inner thighs and even on your abdomen, as well as his dick, and stomach as well. The moment you came all over him, it was like his thrust became sporadic, thrusting within you aimlessly. His grunts and groans became louder and louder within your ear. Suddenly, he let out a lasting moan on his lips as you glanced down, seeing white cum spilling from his tips, landing right on your stomach.

Nothing but the sounds of the two of you breathing, your neck straightening, resting right on his pillow once more. Slowly, you could feel the weight above moving off of you, opening your eyes to see a light in the corner of your eye.

Pushing yourself up, you looked at the light emitting from the bathroom connected to the inn room, seeing Kento’s shadow moving about within the bathroom. Suddenly, you heard water being turned on, out of a bathtub faucet, hitting against the porcelain. Slowly, you pushed yourself up, ignoring the icky feeling of Kento’s essence dripping down the front of your body. Approaching the bathroom, peeking into the cracked door, only to be met with steam slowly emitting from the bathroom door.

You opened the crack a little more, only to jump at the creaking sound of the door. Watching as Kento turned his head, seeing you peeking through the door. He turned, in all his naked glory, before telling you to come in. Smiling, you walked in, your arms wrapped up around yourself as you walked up to the bathtub filled to the brim with hot water. Standing next to him, glancing at him as he prepared your hot bath to clean yourself from your activities. Titling your head, allowing yourself to lean against his arm. A moment passed… before feeling Kento’s arm lift up, the one you leaned on, before wrapping itself around your waist, pulling you closer, your smile widening.

Once the tub was filled, Kento slowly led you inside the bathtub, allowing you to sit right on top of him as the two of you cleaned off the sweat and bodily fluids from your guys’ activities. With a sigh, you relaxed as you felt Kento’s large hands take a clean rag, before dragging it all over your body.

You’ve never felt this… rejuvenated after a night of passion like this. As you glanced up at Kento's, whose focus was on making sure your body was cleaned up, you couldn't help but think about… what was to come for the future. Was this… was this only a one-time thing for him…? The seeds of doubt were already planted within your mind, after all, this man lived tens if not hundreds of miles away from you. He was here on business, and here you are, in his inn room… You took a deep breath, pressing your back into his front, feeling him place the bag onto the edge of the tub before tentatively wrapping his arms around your waist.

For now… for however long, you’ll enjoy this, you’ll enjoy him… as Maki said, It’s not every day someone like him comes, you want him to experience everything.

Kento was a changed man.

As he walked beside you, the day after, your hands barely grazed each other as you walked down the empty path. The town was quiet, recovering from the festivities from last night. He could see the lingering smoke from the bonfire as the workers continued to final parts of the cleanup. As the sun rose into the sky, reaching into the late morning, Kento woke up, hair an absolute mess, room scattered with both his and your clothes strewn everywhere, and with you wrapped around him, happily sleeping away. As he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the memories of last night came at him in full force as well. He could feel every little movement you made while your soft snores sounded off throughout the room. How you curled into him. usually, sex… it was a chore, something that only caused him more stress than to relive it. Yesterday, it changed everything for him, a strong connection in so little time.

He wanted more.

Originally, he was supposed to be meeting his client, the actual reason for him being in this town. Yet, the moment he met you, he almost completely forgot about that until he saw the notification appear at the top of his phone the moment he woke up.

“Would you like a tour of the orchard?” Your voice suddenly cut in through the comfortable silence as you shimmied back into your clothes from last night.

Kento blinked, before swiftly turning his head towards you, “really? A tour? What for?”

You shrugged your head, “maybe I just want to spend more time with you, or maybe I just want to.”

He looked over at you as you shimmied into your dress, as he began to turn around, something within him pulling, something tugging away at his heart. lifting his arms, He wanted to go, something within pushed him to go, he wanted to walk side by side with you as you introduced him to everything you hold dear to your heart. He wished to see your smile in full force as he took a closer look at tall trees bearing the pomme fruit with you. However, the thoughts of his prior engagement came to him, he was a man of his word, and he knew the tour would cut into the time of his meeting, the reason why he was here.

“Unfortunately,” he could see the light in your eyes slowly fade as you explained his impending meeting within the next hour and a half, and something within him died inside at the spur of your disappointment.

However, a sudden buzzing within his hands caught his attention, he would have ignored it, but his eyes caught onto the notification, realizing that the notification was from the man he was holding the meeting with.

R.H : Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it to my meeting. Is it possible to reschedule?

Usually, this kind of thing would irritate him, anger him really. Kento had half a mind to kick this man to the curb and not bother with the possible investment. However, he took a glance over at you, the sun shining brightly behind your form, heat rising within him before looking back down at his phone.

This wasn't him, this was out of character for him, yet, everything lined up and clicked within his head.

Kento: That's fine, we can meet up tomorrow at the same time.

With that, he shut his phone before facing you, “it seems my prior engagement needed to be rescheduled, and now I’m free for the day.”

Your eyes widened, and your smile appeared on your face, “then… we should get going huh? Mr. Nanami?” you winked, teasing him with his last name

“I remembered telling you to call me Kento,” he stated.

The wind blew in between the leaves of the trees, carrying the smell of each apple as he continued down the path with you. His hands were in his pockets as the two of you engaged in conversation about the history of the Orchard. Kento could see it in your eyes, just how much you loved and cared for this place. You saw almost each and every tree being planted here, whether as a baby, teen, or adult.

When the two of you arrived at the Orchard, you two were suddenly greeted by Yuuji, who still had his wide smile, even with bandages around his eye, padded with gauze, and Megumi, the black-spiky-haired boy who was in rage seeing Yuuji being hurt like that last night. Kento took a glance down at you, seeing your eyes shine with a multitude of emotions, confusion as to why they were here, happiness to even see them, and also sadness, especially when your eyes laid upon Yuuji’s impromptu injury.

“Nanamin!” Yuuji waved at the two of you, while the boy, whose name Kento later learned was Megumi, only stood there, keeping his eyes on the two of you.

“Yuuji, you spelled and said his name wrong, there’s no ‘n’ at the end of his name,” you pointed out, crossing his arms.

“Eh?” Yuuji froze for a minute, Megumi calling him an “idiot” before softly tapping him on the back of his head.

“Sorry! I must have misheard you!” Yuuji sheepishly apologized, a wavering smile on his face.

Kenot held his hands up, shaking his head,, “no need.”

Megumi’s eyes shifted between the two of you, before focusing on the cart that Kento was holding for you. He insisted on pulling it while you walked to the Orchard.

“What are the two of you doing here? I thought I sent you two and the rest home for the weekend! You’re not needed here,” you started, stepping closer to him.

“The rest of them went to the city, and we didn’t feel like going so we thought we’d come back here!”

“He dragged me here, because he forgot that you gave us the weekend off. '' Megumi deadpanned, his arms crossed.

Kento’s heart lifted at the dynamic between the two boys, watching as Yuuji sulked underneath Megumi’s words. He took a moment to glance at them as well, only seeing that same soft, faraway look and smile on your face as well. After a moment, the two of them looked over at the two of you again, glancing in between you.

“Say, since the Orchard is closed… Why is Nanamin even here?”

It seems Yuuji wouldn't let go of the misspelling, now using it as some kind of nickname for Kento.

“Uuuuh,” you started, glancing over at Kento.

Megumi used that moment to take a closer look at you, glancing over at Kento, before his eyes widened, before a slight look of disdain appeared on his face, before taking a step back from the two of you.

“...we ran into each other in town, and I wanted to give him a tour of the place, while he was here.”

He felt something impalpable jump within him the moment he felt your hands graze gains the roughness of his own. Kento saw you shaking your head, before pointing to the main house.

“In the storage closet in the classroom, there’s a bunch of packages that Toge and Yuta were supposed to unpack, since you're here now, you can do that for them. After that, I don’t care what you do, just be safe when you’re doing it. I’ll add the extra overtime to your next checks.” The two boys nodded, with Yuuji giving you a salute before heading towards the back of the house where the packages were located.

Kento gave the two boys a quick goodbye as well, when they disappeared behind the house, he followed right after you. Once inside the house, following you towards the kitchen once more, Kento spoke first.

“They seem like really great kids,” he started, glancing over at you, seeing how much you smiled when you thought about your two employees.

“Yeah, they are. Everyone who works here is amazing… you know, Megumi used to live here too.”

His eyebrows worked as the image of the solemn, quiet boy appeared in his head, “really?”

You nodded your head, as the two of you reached the front door of the Main House, “yeah, his dad was the first employee ever hired here, and they needed a place to stay so my grandmother let them. They moved out when I returned from college,” you stated, swinging open the or after unlocking it.

All around him, he smelled you all around, dissipated and deconcentrated, but it still smelled of you.

“Sit down, and let me change my clothes, and then we’ll come and take the tour.

You pointed towards the couch, which he dutifully sat at before watching you go into the kitchen where he waited for you to change out of the clothes from yesterday. As he waited, he took a moment to look around the welcoming area further, leaning back against the couch and its cushions. The backlights that lit up the menu behind the desk were off, and the desk was empty, void of any life. All through the floors were dark cherry wood like the rest of the house, it was covered by a red carpet, mixed with other colors such as sandy beige and black, with different geometric shapes designed in thin it as well. He lifted his head, taking a glance at the walls, and remembered the copious amounts of books sitting on the shelves. Reaching out to the one closest to him, he grabbed one of the books.

“Alice in wonderland…” he mumbled, taking a moment to flip through the worn and torn book.

A few pages in he noticed scribbling handwriting within the margins of said book, seeing notes concerning how much this person disdained the Mad Hatter, your childish scribbles, seeing your name at the end of them. He smiled, as he thought of you, a little you, possibly reading this book, sitting on this very same couch.

Suddenly, the sound of the door flying open took away his attention as he saw you walking through the doorway. Your hair was now all up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a full brown velvet tracksuit, with your hands tucked in your pockets as you walked over to him.

“What are you holding?” You asked, leaning over to read the title.

“Originally, I was interested in the story, but I found the scribblings within the margins to be much more interesting.”

Standing closer to him, as he opened the book, your eyes widened as they landed on your rambles as a child. You let out a laugh, embarrassed as you reached out, gently taking the book from his hands.

“I had a lot of thoughts about this book,” is all you said, flipping through the book, before closing it.

Closing the book, before placing it on the shelf, before turning towards him and clapping your hands together, “shall we? I want to get a few things from the kitchen, and I'll need your help.”

With no other words, your hands grazed together as you led him to the back of the house. Standing in the main kitchen, walking past the containers filled with pastries ready for the grand opening of your cafe. You told him to pick a few, to have while you take him on the tour. Kento had an idea that you don't usually do this, but he couldn't complain, not when the apple donuts and apple custard tarts were calling his name once again. Kento already accepted the possibility of him getting a cavity the more he spent time in this Orchard.

He helped you wrap the pastries in pretty, red-checkered with little apples in between them parchment paper, before putting them in the basket. At first, you wanted to carry it, but he demanded that he carry the basket, not budging as the two of you used the back door, going down the steps to enter the grove of trees.

That’s how the two of you found yourselves, deep into the trees, while you told him the history behind the Orchard while telling him what apple each tree around him grew. The fact that you knew, barely looking at the apples currently growing, and didn’t even look at the signs posted near them. As he stood in the midst of them he felt himself transformed, the wind blowing between the leaves reminding him similarly of his grandmother’s. A bitter smile appeared on his face, his eyes on the browning leaves that slowly dropped with the turning of the season.

You lead him further and further into the orchard, the density in between trees getting tighter and tighter every step. The already-faraway sun getting further and further away, the trees soon began to cover whatever light that could seep in. However, ahead he could see some semblance of what seems to be a clearing. His eyes narrowed, unable to make out exactly what he was seeing until the two of you arrived at the entrance.

It was like a little paradise, with a small pond, with its own little waterfall as well, he could see little fishes swimming within it as well. There were marble benches not too far from the pond, each one having its own intricate designs, each of them different from the other as well. However, what really caught his eye was the gazebo, which was a bit away from the pond, but not too far. His eyes then went to the trees surrounding the little pond clearing and noticed how different they were from the other apple trees. Then, he saw the familiar red-purplish fruit hanging off the leaves. He looked over at you, seeing you approach one of the trees, reaching up before taking one of the many pomegranates off the tree’s stems.

“Take a seat, I don’t show this place off to just anyone!”

Blinking, he eyed the gazebo once more, before approaching it. Walking up the wooden steps, he took a seat at the sole table provided in the open area. He placed the basket before looking at the full detailing of the cabana. Flowers were hanging in the open arches of the gazebo, peonies, roses, and magnolia all mixed to create a beautiful floral flourish. Whoever built this has a good eye for design, he thought to himself, before shifting his focus to your body, his eyes catching the moment you jumped up to grab another pomegranate fruit.

“Do you need help,” he couldn't help but call out, watching as you shook your head, jumping up one more time.

With your last jump, you began to walk over to where he was sitting, four pomegranates in your hands as well. Smiling, you took the space right beside Kento, handing over two pomegranates. With a soft “thank you” he took them before pulling the basket of baked goodies in between the two of you. You took an apple custard tart while Kento unwrapped an apple cake donut, taking a tentative bite, quickly savoring the richness of the donut, mixing in with the sweet custard glaze. The conversation between the two of you was light, with Kento asking about what exactly this clearing was.

“I had the project started the week after my grandmother died, it’s like an ode to her and all her work. She loved coming to this area basically to relax, ro get away from my granddad or my mother’s nagging about her pulling too much weight for her age,” your snicker was contagious, Kento’s own laughter following your own.

“A strong woman in her own right, huh?” Kento pitched in, taking another bite of his donut.

You nodded your head, “that she was,” you hummed, smiling for a short moment.

Suddenly, you shook your head frantically, “I just realize I’ve been talking about myself this whole time! What about you, you know, I never got to ask about what business you had to deal with while in Aquirine.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a grimace appearing on his face, “there’s nothing to say about me. I’m from the city, and I’m a financial executive at my job–”

“Financial executive, is that just a fancy way of saying you’re the CFO?”

He said nothing, but his silence already spoke enough for you,

However, your words interjected into the budding silence, “CFO at a big company, that’s not “nothing”, now is it?” your words held a bit of teasing to it, nudging his body with your elbow.

His grimace disappeared, a half-smile appearing at your words, “I mean for most people yeah, but I found the job… well it was all I could do, given what I studied in college.”

“But you’re young too, to be offered such a huge role in so little time, right?”

“I was offered the job right after I graduated, so you would be right,” in the five years after he graduated and had been the top executive at Gojo, he’d never really stop and think about how much of an achievement that was for other people.

He’s never had to explain himself, the people who needed to know about his role at the company already knew about it. The investors all vetted each and every person Satoru picked to fulfill the executive board of the company. To talk about himself, that was a first for him to do so. All he’s had to do is do the work, go home, and repeat, every once in a while, answer a call from his father, who at the end of the three-minute call would ask him for some money. The next app he was on was his bank app, requesting another wire transfer, lest he wished for his father to bombard his phone like he would do so before.

“I’m getting the sense that you don’t enjoy the job as much as you want to,” you spoke up, taking the last bite of your custard, and brushing the crumbs off your hands.

He blinked, but before he could even say anything to your statement, something yellowish caught his eye, right by your lips.

“Oh you have something on your…” he trailed off, using his hands to point out the stain on his own face.

Perking up, your tongue flicked out of your mouth, but it was too short to fully clean off the area. No thinking, Kento’s right hand flew up to your face, his thumb poking out and cleaning off the custard dollop staining your lovely face. The action had a gasp leaving your mouth, staring wide-eyed at him as he slowly tried to retract his hands, but your own hand stopped him, palm to knuckle as you let him fondle your cheek.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he started, feeling his face blooming with heat.

Kento felt like a little schoolboy, no longer repressed of all his emotions, was what this was? He’d never shown interest in someone throughout his formative years, nothing but his father’s words keeping him down within his books. The feeling of softness pulling him out of his memories, his brown eyes looking down to see your hands touching his, a napkin covering your hands, cleaning the custard off of his hands. He looked at your face, only a smile, indulgent in its nature, on your face.

“It’s fine, Kento,” you said, “thank you for getting it off my face.”

It was a soothing silence, as Kento felt his body beginning to lean towards you. He watched as your eyes flitted between his eyes and his lips before your own lips fluttered open. Your lips were barely touching, but before the kiss between the two of you could continue, a loud shout suddenly cut the two of you off, catching both you and his direct attention. Your eyes widened at the same time, before the two of you leaped into action, running towards where the shout came from. As the two of you ran, more sounds began to echo and bounce against threes. Then, you heard it, clear as day.

Yuuji’s voice, screaming at someone to “GET OFF HIM!”

Your heart sank, something within you knowing that the “him” Yuuji was talking about was Megumi, as he was the only one that was with Yuuji. Pushing through the trees, the two of you broke through daylight, finding commotion happening in front of you. You could see the familiar fluff of pink hair being held back by a grown man, Yuuji trying his best to fight out of the man’s hold.

“Yuuji! Megumi!” You couldn't help but shout, your heart racing as you suddenly saw black spiky hair on the ground, covered in sand.

However, a hand came up, and pushed you back, suddenly stopping you in your tracks. Looking up, you had no time to see Kento shrug off his jacket, telling you to wait here, before rushing towards the man holding Yuji and the other one stomping on Megumi’s.

“Kento!” You couldn’t help but yell, watching as he easily subdued the two men with ease.

Honestly, if you blinked, you could have missed it. He caught the one holding Yuuji by surprise, wrapping his bicep around the man's neck, before pulling him into a chokehold. The rise caused him to let Yuuji go, who immediately went towards the grown man stomping on Megumi. However, Kento easily knocked out the man in the chokehold, getting to the man before Yuuji could, and pushing him off of him. That man, who was more ready for Kento, threw a punch towards him, but it was too wide, Kento was able to easily dodge it, before sending one punch towards the man, the force causing his body to twist almost a whole 180 degrees before easily falling onto the floor.

Immediately seeing how the danger was over, you rushed over to your boys, where Yuuji was holding up Megumi, whose eyes were fluttering but still attentive. Your heart dropped at the sight of blood dripping out of his mouth, as well as cuts dripping with blood all over his face.

“Are the two of you okay?” You knew the answer yet, your heart still needed to hear their verbal confirmation, a step for you to calm yourself down from the ordeal.

“I’m… I’m fine, but Megumi–” Yuuji cut himself off as Megumi suddenly began to cough, and cough hard.

Your eyes widened at the gargled saliva mixed in with blood, spat out onto the ground during his fit, and immediately pulled out your phone.

“Yuuji, can you carry him to the clinic?! Please!”

Yuuji nodded, but before he could, two large hands came in between you, you and Yuuji watching as Kento came in, before easily carrying Megumi, placing him on his back. Your eyes glanced at where the men were lying, only to find them gone from their position, only to see their knocked-out bodies. Looking back at Kento, seeing how disheveled his smoothed-back hair was, he was no longer wearing his glasses on his face as well. His clothes were wrinkled, and his shirt nearly pulled out of its tucked position.

“Yuuji, if you don’t mind, can you just tell me where the clinic is? I would hate to leave her all alone before the police can get here.”

Yuuji blinked for a moment, before slowly nodding his head, telling him where Kento could find the clinic. With no other words, he began making his way down the road, Yuuji and yourself watching him. With nothing else, hoping Kento could get here in time, you dialed the Sheriff's number, knowing it by heart. The phone rang for only a short moment, before the line picked up, and the female operator spoke. Quickly as you could, you relayed to the operator what happened, and she said that officers would be there as soon as possible. You also told them about Kento, telling them he was taking Megumi and may need some help to get him there.

Before you knew it, three police cars pulled up at the front of your home, and the Sheriff included all surrounding the front entrance of the Orchard. Immediately, the two of you pointed to the knocked-out men, who were beginning to wake up. Quickly the two of them were arrested. For a moment, they had to separate Yuuji and yourself as they took your statements, each relaying exactly what happened as the two of you remembered it, Yuuji’s account was more needed because he saw everything that happened, while you only saw the aftermath. The two of you were stuck in the cold for a long time, talking and watching as the officers and the long crime scene unit within town took note of everything that happened, pictures, blood samples.

Before you knew it, both you and Yuuji had been outside for hours, seeing the sun beginning to go down just as another police car began to pull up. Not even bothering to wait before the car fully stopped, blond hair exited out from the front, Kento making his way over to the two of you. The sudden sight of him overwhelmed you, your knees buckling after everything. Quickly, he rushed over to you, catching you with the help of Yuuji as well.

“Megumi?” was the first thing you said to him, as the three of you began to make your way towards the house.

“He’s fine, the doctor said he’ll be fine, I left as soon as his father arrived. I didn’t want to leave him alone.”

You could only nod your head, Kento’s words providing you with a bit of consolation. Your thoughts flew to Toji, how it would feel for him to see his only child lying in a clinic bed. Knowing Toji, it’s only a matter of time before he finds out exactly who caused this incident…

Incident… as the three of you took your seats on the couch in the welcome area, ignoring the officers that would walk past the three of you. Your mind now begins to clear up, the fog of the events slowly dissipating as you slowly relax in the depths of your home. Now, you were able to think, with the confirmation that both Yuuji and Megumi are safe. The events of three days ago suddenly came into your mind. That day, when you and Toji both agreed that your uncle was planning something and that things were not over yet. It had been only three days ago, and now your employees are being jumped. Anger spurred within you, but no surprise, as you knew your uncle was exactly the type of person to send goons to beat up your…

Suddenly, another thought came to your mind, a thought that was much more grime and alarming.

The Orchard was closed, specifically for the holiday. Everyone in town knew that Yuuji and Megumi, as well as none of your employees, were ever supposed to be here. The only person that was supposed to be here was you because you LIVE here.

If Megumi and Yuuji weren’t here… hell if Kento wasn’t here…

Your heart began to beat rapidly, your breathing becoming slowly unsteady the more and more you thought about it. Too unsteady, as it suddenly caught the attention of the two men sitting right next to you.

“Boss?” Yuuji called out to you, his hands coming up to your arms, “are you okay?!”

A large hand came up to your face, the feeling of rough skin and gauze wrapped around knuckles pressing against your skin. Slowly, your face turned towards brown eyes, “breathe…”

Kento’s voice was the embodiment of calm, the lull of his voice slowly guiding you out of your budding panic attack. Taking a deep breath, you could feel the hot tears trailing down your cheeks, but it was all you could do not to break down into short breaths and sobs. Kento guided you as well, taking deep breaths with you to help. Soon, your tears slowed, and your breathing stabilized once again, at least enough for you to open your mouth.

“I…” you began, “I think they were here for me…” you revealed to the two of them.

Your eyes flickered in between them, gauging their reactions. Yuuji, bless his heart, took a little minute to understand what you meant. But, looking over at Kento’s, who’s eyes slightly widened in alarm, knew exactly what you meant.

“The Orchard is closed, and you were the only person that was supposed to be here, if everything went as normal,” he couldn't hold back the unease in his voice, his hands coming up and slowly rubbing heat into your arms.

Yuuji’s own face turned into one of horror, his hand coming up, brushing away his hair that fell in front of your face. A tense, and unnerved science fell between the three of you, with Kenoto’s hand falling from your face to your shoulders, pulling you in close. The smell of cool citrus and sage calmed you just a bit, your hands coming up, pressing them against his front, snuggling further into his hold. However, before either of you could speak, the door flew open, the three of you jumping before going to see the sudden uproar. Heavy stomps came towards the three of you, before eyeing familiar shaggy black hair and a scar on the side of his lips. Your body went at ease as Toji came closer to you, concern shining in his eyes.

“Hey, are you okay?” He checked on you, Toji’s eyes solely on you as he pulled you out of Kento’s hold, his eyes scanning over you.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you assured him as best as you could, “you should be with Megumi, he’s the one who actually got hurt.”

“The brat’s fine, made me leave to check on you, the smoker’s with him.” He grumbled, rolling his eyes, but his hands slowly let go.

Still, you watched as he looked over at Yuuji, making sure that he was okay as well before finally realizing that the two of you were not alone. Kento, realizing that Toji was looking at him, stood up as well.

“Listen, I never got to thank you for taking my son to the clinic,” Toji murmured, taking a step toward Kento, before holding his hand out.

Your eyes darted between Kento and Toji, watching in silence as Kento, apprehensive, stuck out his own hand before shaking it as well. The shake went on for a bit too long, both you and Yuuji glancing at each other for a moment before looking at the two men once again. Toji soon enough pulled his hand away, tucking it into his pocket.

“So, have they figured out who did this?” Toji turned and faced you, “when I got here, the cops were still outside looking over things.”

You sighed, falling right back onto the couch, exasperated, pushing your braids out of your roll, “No nothing yet, but I doubt they’ll find anything right now.”

Yet, as the two of you locked eyes, you knew exactly would be able to do something like this. Your uncle’s grimy smile flashed in your head, remembering how he was surrounded by his goons while on your property. Slowly opening your eyes, staring up at your chandelier ceiling.

The sound of the door swinging open caught your attention again, this time seeing the Sheriff, Yaga, coming through the door and walking over to you. Immediately, you got up, the rest of the men following as he relayed the situation to you.

“Some of the men took the perpetrators down to the station, but they’re not talking without a lawyer. We’re gonna go ahead and charge them with trespassing, assault and battery and wait for their lawyer to arrive,” Yaga said, adjusting his belt.

Your body slumped slightly, but you nodded your head, “okay… you think the charges will stick?”

“Most likely yes, it’s very cut and dry and you have security cameras out there so we’ll be needing those too. We’ll also be increasing patrols down this road for the next few days.”

You confirmed that you’d give him the tapes, and after a few more words exchanged, you decided to drop them off first thing tomorrow morning, and with that, he left your home, hearing him walk down the steps and path and eventually driving away. It was all silent in the house once more, with you going back to the couch and slumping into the decorative pillows and upholstery.

“This is…” you said nothing else, letting out a hefty breath of air.

Suddenly, you heard a beep, glancing over at Toji pulling out his phone and looking at it.

“Smoker says Megumi fell asleep, and that everything still looks good with him.”

Suddenly, Yuuji stood up, exclaiming, “I need to go be with him!”

Toji held his hand up, “hold it Pinky, lemme take you, Megumi will kill me if I let you go by yourself. Need to head back there anyways, talk about treatment plans and what not.”

Toji then eyed Kento, before looking over at you, “you trust him?” He pointed at Kento.

You blinked, glancing over at Kento before looking over Toji, confusion shining in your eyes, but slowly nodding your head. Toji let out a breath of what seemed to be slight relief before turning towards Kento.

“Stay with her tonight, Blondie? Don’t want her to be alone until we learn all the details. All we know, they could send more goons.”

Your eyes widened, “wait, Kento you don't need to stay–” but Kento shook his head at your words, before looking over at Toji, nodding his head.

“Never planned to leave in the first place.”

Your eyes widened, looking over at Kento, while Toji nodded, before facing Yuuji and jerking his head towards the door. With no other words exchanged, Yuuji gave you a deep and long hug, taking a deep breath, letting go, and saying that he’ll be back tomorrow before leaving with Toji to go and be with Megumi. Yuuji waved goodbye to Kento, who waved back before walking side by side with Toji. The two of them soon walked out, silence following as well, before hearing Toji’s truck rumble before pulling out into the road.

Now it was just you and Kento, sitting in the dimmed room.

“I’m sorry,” the words fumbled out of your mouth before thinking about them fully.

You felt Kento turn towards you, his eyes boring holes into you, “why would you think you need to apologize? This wasn’t your fault. No one could have guessed this would happen.”

Tears began to well in your eyes, despair beginning to take hold of you. Everything came falling down on you, your uncle’s arrival, the incident today, and everything your own flesh and blood has tried to do to get your Orchard for himself. Your body began to shake, your hands coming up to cover your face as sobs began to heave from your body. Immediately, you felt arms and hands around you, Kento’s warm body wrapping itself around you. The room echoed your cries and shouts, but at the same time, you could hear Kento’s soft words, trying his best to comfort you. It felt like an eternity as the two of you sat there.

Kento soon felt you beginning to quiet down, glancing down at you, only to find your eyes shut, face still streaked with salty tears. Your eyelashes glisten underneath the low light as well. He heard soft snores coming for you, your body breathing in and out slowly. He sat there, holding you and watching your face soften, no longer scrunched up from the magnitude of stress you were under. Your nose slightly opens every time you breathe out, your chest rising with every breath you take. The moment he shifted his body, you would react, an incoherent mumble leaving your mouth as you snuggled into his hold. Your hands reach out and grab at the wrinkled fabric of his shirt.

His heart jumped, before beginning to beat really fast. However, he knew it wasn't safe for you to stay asleep in his arms, so slowly he got up, carefully not to wake you. For a moment, he did not know where to go, glancing around the room, trying to see where exactly the stairs were that would give him access to the second floor. With grace, he walked through the back door, entering the kitchen of the bakery and gift shop, before seeing a wooden door at the back of the white room, looking very out of place. Walking towards it, using one hand to hold while reaching out the door, only to find the doorknob barely moving, the door locked.

He cursed underneath his breath, before the memory of your keys, which he remembered being in your pockets. Kento fished them out, and he stood there for a few moments, going through each key before a brown, rustic one easily entered the slot, testing it and the door slowly creaked open. Kento was now faced with a dark stairway, with another door at the end of it. He then closed the door behind him, before making his way up. The steps were creaky, and with no light, he had to take slow and cautionary steps until he felt the point of his shoes pressing up against a wall, well a door. He reached down, and luckily this door was unlocked, before pushing it open.

In it, he was transported to a whole new area, a place where it looked like someone was living. The walls were painted white and he could see different green plants, potted and placed in different areas of the living room. Ahead of him, he could see stairs, light brown colored ones with space missing in between them. It looked completely different from the vintage coziness downstairs, more modern, but the hay-weaved decorations and the plants, as well as the clean walls, gave its own version of coziness as well.

Kento kicked his shoes off, placing them at the door, before going up the stairs. Upstairs looked like a normal hallway, eyeing the closed white doors, before his eyes caught onto silver. At the end of the hallway, his eyes caught onto a door with silver butterflies all traveling in a curve on the door, as well as gold entails decorated the outer parts of the door as well. He couldn't help it smile, it was so very you, in the little time he’d gotten to know you.

Quietly, he approached the door, slowly turning the doorknob, and pushing the door. Kento entered into a smaller space, of what seemed to be an office, a cozy, intimate one. The desk was white, and you had both a desktop and a laptop on it. There were stacked books around it as well, and flowers within an old vase. Walking past your desk towards the pried door, where he could see a semblance of a bed. In your actual bedroom, the space was much bigger, your bed pressed up against the far right of the wall. You had a huge shelf, four rows, and each either had a stack of books, framed photos, or potted plants with huge, thick leaves dangling in the air.

Approaching your bed, Kento bent over, slowly relaxing his hold on you, allowing you to slide easily into the comfort of your sheets. However, your grip on him was tight, despite your unconscious want to be in the familiar depths and redolence within your bed. With a little more force, he pried your hands off his shoulders, placing you inside your comforter before pulling the heavy blanket over you.

He took a few steps from you, his aim to quietly leave you to get your rest after today’s stressful events. However, as he walked, something on your shelf caught his eye, and he stopped mid-step as his eyes widened. The picture was obviously a few years ago, with a slightly-younger you smiling in the image. However, standing in front of you was Megumi, who was even younger-looking, not looking a day over ten years old. He wasn’t smiling, which seemed to be a norm for the teenager, but his cheeks were pink, looking away from the camera like he was embarrassed.

And standing beside you, was Megumi’s father, whose name he learned was Toji, his arm wrapped tightly around you, look, a loving look in his eye as he stared right at you, while he looked at the camera. But that wasn’t what caught Kento’s attention, no. What caught his attention was the still-in-motion kiss that he was placing on your cheek. Your smile was wide, in fact, you looked like you were giggling in the photo as well.

The memories of how Toji rushed to your side came flooding back to him, how he pulled you towards him, the exasperation on his face. Kento felt something within him break as he looked over the photo.

Who was he kidding? Of course you and Megumi’ father had passed, after mentioning that he was the only other non-family employee to live here. That his son used to live here as well. To get his hopes up like that… he thought back to the night the two of you spent together… He didn’t even know what got into him? To get his hopes up? For a woman he met a mere three days ago?

He was hanging around Satoru too much, to be able to dream like that.

Quietly, he placed the frame back down onto the shelf, before making his way out of the room. He closed the door with silence, before stepping right back into your living room. Kento eyed the couch, seeing the blanket resting on it, before sighing. No matter what, he knew it would never sit right in his heart if he left you all alone, after an attack like that. He walked over to your couch, swinging his feet onto the softness, before pulling the blanket as much as he could over his body.

It was like it all came crashing down on him the moment he rested his head on one of your couch pillows. Like a weight double, his own pressed up against him, closing his eyes before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The sound of sizzling was the first thing that woke him up. The next was the sound of soft humming as well. A hoarse groan left his throat, as Kento slowly pried his eyes open, only to be hit with the smell of sizzling bacon as his senses slowly woke up with him. The moment he tried to move his limbs, only to be hit with a dull ache and pains, causing a pained groan to leave his lips. The sound of hums suddenly stopped, the sounds of metal clanging against something before soft steps began to make their way over to his body on the couch.

He could see something suddenly standing over him, his eyes narrowing as he tried to blink out the sudden swell of liquid in his eyes. Once he did, he could see you, now well-rested and standing over him.

“You’re awake, you know, you could have stayed in one of the guest rooms,” you said, taking a few steps towards him.

Slowly, despite his aching limbs, he pushed himself up out of his sleep position, pulling the blanket off of him, “I didn’t want to intrude more than I already had, but I didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Well, atleast go take a shower, sleeping on the couch couldn't have been good for your back. Some hot water will do you some good, middle door to the left of the hallway.” You instructed him, pointing towards the one hallway within this apartment-style home.

He blinked at you, watching your hands resting on your hips. You were no longer wearing the clothes from yesterday. Rather, your hair was wrapped in a beautiful, shining, purple silk scarf while you were wearing a huge black t-shirt, and thick, cotton shorts. Quickly, his eyes averted from your bare legs, ignoring the sudden skip of his heart, before nodding, not saying a word as he got up, his body easily towering over you before making his way to the hallway. He could feel your eyes on him as he made it to the bathroom, slowly opening the door. The bathroom was small and quaint, but obviously maximized the little space it was given. To his right, a little washer and dryer was there, where you most likely did your own personal laundry. It was smaller than he expected. Ahead he could see a shower behind some glass doors, slowly stepping inside before closing the door behind him. Slowly, he began to strip off his clothes, folding them as he went, and placing them on the sink as well. On that same sink, he could see a rectangular box of unopened soap, as well as a wash rag sitting neatly on top of it as well as a note from you.

For you, Kento ♡

He picked it up, a smile on his face, some of his tension smoothing away as he placed the note to the side, before grabbing the soap and rag. Now naked, grimacing at the way his back ached when he stretched his arms up. You were right, the couch was not good for his back. Reaching for the water switch, the appliance was easy for him to understand as he waited for the water to reach a perfect warm temperature. The moment he felt slight steam billowing from the surface of the pouring water, he stepped in, holding back deep groans as the hot water began to soothe his pain. As he pressed the rag onto itself, spreading the water all throughout the cotton cloth, before rubbing the soap. His mind faded, going over every event that brought him into your home. Meeting you in the Square, following you home, watching you as you gave him your own personal tour, showing him a special palace close to your heart. The men beating up Yuuji and Megumi, the realization that those men could have been coming for you. Your grueling sobs.

His heart clenched as the memories of your painful cries came back, how he held you until your sobs eventually turned into soft snores, your body giving up on you underneath the amount of stress you were under. How he carried you to your room, and how,

The flash of the picture frame came back to him, of you, young Megumi, and Toji.

Slowly, he stopped washing himself as he thought back to it, despite his efforts to try and stop thinking about it. It was none of his business after all, if anything, he was the outsider, the two of you had known each other for years. He had… he had no business speculating on what was going on between the two of you.

So then, he thought to himself, as he continued to pull the lathered cloth up and down his body, did his heart feel like this?

Once fully washed, he rinsed the soap off his body, making sure he got every nook and cranny of his body before slowly turning the water off. Slowly opening the glass door, he reached out for the towel that you left for him, drying himself off while still standing in the shower. Once mostly dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist before looking around. The only clothes he could see were his own, and he didn’t feel like wearing his stiff dress shirt once again.

As he was thinking, a knock came to the door, before hearing your soft, muffled voice coming from the other side, “Kento, is everything okay?”

Blinking, before he knew it, he was already on the other side of the small bathroom, reaching towards the door knob. Pulling it open, the two of you locked eyes, watching as yours widened at the sight of him.

“Do you have any spare clothes I can borrow?” He asked, not fully gauging how you suddenly froze at the sight of him.

Blinking, now realizing you weren't saying anything for a moment, calling out your name before waving his hand in front of your face. The sudden movement must have broken you out of the sudden trance. Suddenly, he found that your eyes were averting his own, as you asked him to repeat what he asked. Kento’s eyebrows quivered, but didn’t want to ask what was wrong with you, only repeated his question. He saw how you nodded quickly, before scurrying away towards your room, watching the door suddenly shut close behind you.

He glanced around, before slowly stepping back inside the bathroom, not wanting the steam to billow and heat up the hallway on accident. He waited for a few moments, before taking a moment to glance at himself in the mirror, seeing his naked chest, how the water glistened against the hairs of his chest, arms, and abdomen. He continued to stare at himself, suddenly realizing exactly what made you freeze up right in front of him. However, despite that, he could feel a slight elation that he even made you feel that way.

Big, that was your first thought, your heart skipping two beats per second as you slammed your bedroom door behind you. Heavy breathing echoed through the room as you pressed a hand against your skin, the contrast between your cold hands and the heat bubbling underneath your deep skin.

He was so big… you knew this about him or had some idea of it, but his body was covered in the blanket of that night. Squeaking, covering your mouth at just how much you enjoyed looking at him. The water pearls dripping from his body, his wet hair sticking onto his face… Squealing, you smacked yourself in the face once again, before taking even more deep breaths, trying to calm yourself as much as you could. Removing your hands, you moved towards your closet, where your father’s old clothes were stored. Shifting through the chest you had placed them in when you renovated their room, you fished out a huge red plaid shirt, as well as a pair of sweatpants. You placed the folded clothes in your arms neatly before closing the trunk and making your way out of the room.

The moment you stepped out of the room, your heart kicked up again. You took slow steps towards the bathroom before giving a couple knocks on the door. It was all silent, no response for a few seconds too long.

“Ken… Kento, I have some clothes here for you…” you started, only for your voice to trail off as the door opened slightly, a huge hand coming out from the crack.

“Thank you,” he said while behind the door.

Blinking, you slowly put the clothes in his hands, watching as he took them before slowly closing the door behind him. You stood there a moment, a budding hope within you dashing when you only saw his arm coming out for the bathroom once more. Shaking your head, you turned around, going towards your kitchen to finish the last of the breakfast you were making for the two of you. On your neatly made dining table, you had a stack of pancakes on two different plates, your usual one, a pink heart-shaped plate that Nobara got you for your birthday, and getting out a handmade plate you made while at a pottery class in the city. You stacked three pancakes each, before getting the matching mini plate to Nanami’s before putting scrambled eggs, bacon, and turkey sausage on it as well. The smell of coffee still sitting in your coffee machine mixed in with the smell of breakfast as well. On the table, you had pitchers of orange juice, apple juice, and water as well.

Suddenly, you heard something behind beginning to creak, turning your head as a tall figure escaped from your bathroom. You watched as Kento entered your living room, now fully clothed. Luckily, the shirt fit him perfectly, too perfectly, raced through your mind as quickly as it left. Swiftly, you turned your head before facing the small feast you made.

“Come, come,” you beckoned him, gesturing to his seat.

With no words, he walked over to you, before taking his seat at the dining table. You could see him eyeing everything that you’ve made.

“You didn’t have to make all this for me,” he said, watching as you placed two plastic pitchers of syrup, maple brown sugar syrup, and apple brown sugar cinnamon syrup on the table as well.

“I wanted to, to thank you for yesterday,” you smiled, taking your seat right beside him at the circular table.

“There’s no need to thank me for that,” his tone held slight confusion as if he really couldn't comprehend why you would thank him for this.

“But there is, Kento. Don’t worry about it, just eat, please? For me?” You smiled at him, picking up your fork.

You waited for him to pick up his fork and knife, seeing him quietly say thanks to the food before beginning to dig in the food. At first, it was all quiet, but your eyes were on Kento as he took a bite out of his sliced pancake, after he poured the maple syrup onto it. You watched as his eyes lit up, before he took a bigger slice of teh pancake, drenched in syrup and butter before eating it in one go as well. You then focused on your food, a quiet yet warm silence between the two of you, the two of you preferred not to speak while you ate your breakfast. The sounds of knives grating into the plate and the muffled sounds of chewing were all you could hear as you ate your pancakes and eggs.

However, as breakfast began to disappear, conversation picked up between the two of you, no longer wishing for the silence between the two of you. Giving him a hypothetical question, (would you rather travel to the future, or to the past?) The two of you argued your own points, with you wanting to go to the future while he wished to go to the past. As the conversation continued, the two had long finished your breakfast, with you getting up and wanting to clean up, but Kento made you sit down, taking your plate. You watched, a smile curling on your face as Kento washed your plates and cups with ease. However, not wanting to stay stagnant, you cleaned up the syrup and pitchers of juice you had, placing them back in your fridge. When everything from breakfast was clean, the two of you approached your couch, wanting to relax.

“Okay, but if you go back to the past, you’re just seeing things you’ve already seen, even if you wanna change it. I think going to the future to see what you become is much better,” you argued, sitting down on the couch.

Kento opened his mouth, about to argue back, when all of sudden, a ping caught both your and his attention. Putting your water bottle down, you patted yourself down for your phone before remembering that you left it in your room, looking back at Nanami as he pulled his phone out of the sweatpants pocket. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed down, squirting at whatever popped up on his phone.

“Everything okay, Kento?” you asked him, taking a sip of your water bottle.

After a beat, he nodded his head, his thumb tapping away at the screen, “The person I'm supposed to be meeting with just messaged me. Saying “he’s excited about the meeting and hopes I’m ready for the offer he’s about to make me.”

Right. The meeting. The whole reason he was here in this small town, to begin with. Yesterday, he was supposed to meet up with this mystery person but they rescheduled the meeting, which allowed Kento to follow you to the Orchard, giving him a personal tour of everything.

You hummed, glancing between him and his phone, “do you… do you know what kind of offer this person is about to make you? You don’t have to tell me, either.”

Kento shook his head, “it’s fine, because I don’t even know what it’s about. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my boss.”

“Your boss? What, did he send you on a wild goose chase?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Kento grumbled, looking away with a grimace on his face.

The look caused you to giggle, covering your head with your face. He heard the sound, looking over at you. However, after laughing, and thinking about Kento’s meeting situation, something within you rang off, confusion striking you for a bit.

“Wait, so then why did you have to meet him? And not someone under you or even your boss? This is his idea, after all?”

Kento sighed, placing his large hand against his forehead, “I don’t know why he does half the shit he does, but to answer your question, I was doing business in the city nearby, and he asked me to go and see if this was something to look into more.”

“Ohhh,” you stretched out, taking another sip of water, “so you were just convenient.”

You suppressed your smile as he froze midst taking a sip of his own water bottle, his eyes shifting over to look at you. After a beat of silence, you couldn't hold back your laughter, throwing your head back at the way he reacted to your words.

“I’m…” laughter, “oh I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” you tried to speak, but your laughter obviously gave away your true feelings.

He didn’t say anything, but instead a small appeared at the sound of your laughter as he took another sip of shi water.

“It’s fine, I’m thinking of rescheduling again after everything that happened yesterday–” he started but you cut in, your back straightening up in alarm

“Oh no, don't do that! I’ll be fine,” you said, shaking your head at him, “there’s no need to reschedule! Go to your meeting! It’s the reason you came here in the first place, right?”

He looked over at you, “but to leave you all alone after everything–” but once again, you cut in

“I’ll be fine, Yaga increased patrols around here and I’m sure no one will try anything for the time you’re gone. My other kids should be back from their trip to the city and when they hear about this, I’m sure they’ll come rushing over.” You assured him.

Kento’s face twisted, tucking his phone into his pocket, “Are you sure?”

You nodded your head, getting up, before reaching for him, “it’s fine, it’s fine,” you reiterated.

As you began to push him at the door, he suddenly stopped, almost knocking you over. He turned to look at you, watching as you stood up from nearly falling onto the wooden floor.

“At least give me your number, so I know you can reach me.”

Your eyes widened when he said that, watching as his eyes intensified. Heart kicked up, and your throat went dry, you nodded your head, before telling him to wait here. Scurrying away like a little cute mouse, you swiped your phone off of your bed before going toward him once again. The two of you exchanged numbers, and Kento reiterated that you should call him if anything happens. With your final confirmation, he grabbed his bag of clothes, and the two of you made your way down the stairs of your apartment into the huge bakery kitchen, to the front of the house.

“Thank you again, for everything Kento,” your words were soft as you looked up at him.

The afternoon frost was nipping at your skin but didn't bother either of you as he stood amid the doorway.

“Like I said, there was no need to thank me, I’m just glad to have been there. Who knows what could have happened to you,” his hand came up, pushing the lone braid in your face away, allowing him to see your gorgeous smile.

Looking up at him, an inexplicable amount of courage suddenly crushed through you. Reaching up to the tips of your toes, your lips suddenly pressed themselves against his cheek, leaving a soft and slightly long kiss on them. Your heart was beating in between your ears, and nervous heat was erupting underneath your skin, but you didn’t regret it, watching as Kento’s eyes widened at the sudden smooch placed on his face. You could see pink surging all across his face as he turned to look over at you.

“That’s for good luck, with your meeting as well,” you said, leaning against the open door, one hand on the doorknob.

“Tha… thank you,” is all he could say before turning around, taking the few stairs down for the front of your porch.

You watched with a smile on your face as he walked away, waiting until he was a bit way down the road, before closing the door behind you. The moment the door closed, a loud sequel flew out of your mouth, your back hitting the door. Covering your face as you slowly, slide down,

“Why did I do that?!” you screamed at yourself, your body twisting in turning under an amalgamation of nervousness and embarrassment.

“Please stop,” Megumi deadpanned, pushing you away as much as he could while you took a wet rag to his face, cleaning off all the grime on his face.

“Well, I can’t just leave you looking like that,” you exclaimed, taking a seat beside his hospital bed.

Thirty minutes after Kento left, you decided to go and visit Megumi while at the clinic. In your hands held a basket of treats, including two slices of apple-rum cake, Megumi’s favorite dessert. Yuuji and Nobara were sitting on the other side, leaning onto the bed as they indulged in the apple tarts that you brought along as well.

“I hear that a certain someone came here with treats,” a voice called out, as the door slammed open.

You turned around, smiling as your eyes landed on a familiar figure. Iori walked in, a smile on her face as she faced you. Squealing, you stood up before wrapping your arms around her, sighing as she hugged you back, the two of you rocking. Utahime’s business kept her out of town a lot, so it wasn’t often you would get to see her.

“How long are you back in town! I didn’t even know you came back?!” Exclaimed, guiding her to the empty chair that Ieiri suddenly brought for her.

“You knew I couldn’t miss the cafe opening for the world! I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I heard what happened?!” Her face took on one of concern, her hand racing out towards your hand as she turned her eyes glancing over at Megumi before looking at you once again.

Your wide smile lessened a bit, “yeah, but everyone’s okay, I’m just glad no one seriously hurt.”

“But sending goons, to do god knows what? It’s all too much,” she said, crossing her arms.

You shook your head, sighing, “yeah, but all we can do is move on, hopefully the cops can find out that he’s even connected to this. However, I know him, and he’s somehow gonna get out of it.”

Utahime tutted, shaking her one more time, but then, her downturned face suddenly lifted, her red lips turning into a smirk, her eyes moving onto you. Seeing her expression, your eyes furrow down in confusion.

“...what?” you couldn't help but ask.

“...I heard a little rumor that you were shacking up with a random blond man, you wanna… go into detail about that?”

Your eyes widened, and your heart raced, pumping up, as you looked away from him, suppressing your smile, “... no… I don’t know what you talking about,” you fibbed, twirling with one of your braids, looking everywhere but at her.

She shook her head, “uuh-uh, nope, you don’t get to hide from me, little one! Who is he, what’s his name, and occupation, and where did you even meet him?”

You weren't going to say anything, but Yuuji, oh bless his heart, decided to drop in, hearing the conversation.

“His name is Nanami, and they met at one of the cooking classes she teaches!” His smile was wide too.

Iori shrieked again, “Ugh, how could you not have told me this?!” She looked over at both Megumi, Npbara and Yuuji.

Megumi only shrugged, “we had met him yesterday at the festival, and today as well, you know before,” he cut himself off by suddenly gesturing to himself, and his beaten-up body.

“We did not shack up together,” you lied your ass off, “did he spend the night at my place? Yes! But that was because of everything that happened! We had only met a few days ago!” You turned around to look at her, crossing your arms as well.

“Still, that doesn’t mean anything can’t happen, either way, tell me more about him!” She cheesed in your face, just as Ierei walked in, smelling like smoke.

Sighed, but still, you turned towards her with a smile on your face, “he’s not from here, first of all.”

“I could tell from the fact that no one knew his name, but continue.”

The conversation delved between the two of you, talking about you and Kento, with Yuuji, Nobara, and Shoko listening intently. Utahime squealed as you told her about how quickly he acted the moment Yuuji and Megumi were in trouble as well.

“Aah, he sounds like the perfect gentleman, and he’s rich too? If you ever get tired of the small-town life…” she nudged your side, winking at you as well.

Despite your smile, you shook your head, “doubt it, I love it here.”

“So what, you’ll think he’ll move down here for you…?” she trailed off, leaning back slightly.

“Remember that I’ve barely known this man for little more than a week,” you said, “he’s not gonna drop his cushy, CFO job in the city for a little town like this. For someone he just met too.”

She waved a finger in your face, “never say never! This could be it for you!”

Her words caused a slightly elated feeling within you. You couldn't help but think about it, how domestic the two of you felt. The idea of the two of you cooking together, and eating breakfast together as well. The sight of him in the clothes you gave him, how they fitted perfectly on him as well. Could it… could it really happen?

Your head jerked slightly, looking up as you felt eyes on you, all five people in the room staring down at you. Pushing Iori’s finger out of your face, you shook your head,

“I doubt it, anyways, I have to go, I need to start preparing for the Orchard’s opening, with the new cafe and everything."

Toji glared down at his phone, crossing through the various emails popping up on his phone. It took all of him not to curse out every one of his clients, to tell them that his son was hurt and that he couldn’t give two shits about the different color wallpaper they didn’t want in their homes. In his hands was a plastic bag, stacked with three takeout trays from one of the few restaurants around here, which also happens to be his brat’s favorite as well. He walked through the square, hoping to get there in time before she had to hear Megumi complain about being hungry.

Megumi… his only pride, and his blessing.

His heart dropped when he got the call from the Smoker, and that the police had dropped off his son who had been beaten up profusely, as well as a random man. Luckily, he had already been driving back home from the city, in fact, he was on his way to you, because he knew Megumi was there. His heart had only felt like that two times in his life,

When Megumi was born and when his wife died.

True terror, and true fear.

When he arrived, Megumi was somewhat awake, and a blonde man, with stern eyes and stress lines was waiting outside his door. This was Toji’s first time seeing someone like this, and in a town like this, it’s very hard to have never met someone before.

“Who’re you?” Toji’s gruff voice came out, aching.

The blond stood up, holding out his hand, before introducing himself as Kento Nanami. Despite his respite, he shook the man’s hand, as this was the person who got his son to safety. Toji wondered how he got to his son, and Nanami, as quickly as he could explain before he left, that two men had suddenly come onto your property, and attacked both Megumi and Yuuji, with Megumi getting the brunt of the attack. Toji’s fear slowly dissipated when the Smoker came out and explained that Megumi was just gonna be fine, his ribs were bruised, and had no sustained injuries on his abdomen or stomach. His fear would slowly turn into angry– no– rage, as he realized that this attack on his son was no mere coincidence. It felt as if magma was boiling within his veins,

Just a few days after your uncle’s sudden appearance? A man who knows no bounds when it comes to getting your orchard.

The moment he was allowed into Megumi’s room, he was promptly kicked right out.

“What are you doing here?!” Megumi had yelled at him, telling Toji that he needed to go be with you.

Toji told him, in their usual banter, that unless things had changed, he was still his father. However, in his anger, he had failed to realize just how dangerous this attack was. Megumi had to be the one to tell him that the only person that was supposed to be in that Orchard was you. That everyone knew the Orchard would be closing for the holiday weekend. That if Yuuji and Megumi weren’t there, the only person those men could have been searching for, was you. You were their original target.

With one more push from Megumi, he was already out of there, getting in his truck and making his way towards you. The moment he got there, he could see the few cops crawling around, talking and making their notes, along with the one crime scene unit. With an all clear from Yaga, he made his way towards your house, busting through the door, before hearing movement to his right. Entering the space, he was faced with three people, you, Megumi’s friend Yuuji, and the very same blonde man who had come to the clinic with his son. He saw how his arms were wrapped up around you, and he couldn't lie, something within him jerked, seeing how close he was to you.

Quickly as he came in, he came over to you, pulling you out of his hold, his eyes rapidly looking over you, making sure that there were no cuts, scraps, and bruises on you.

“Hey, are you okay?” Was the first thing he asked you

You smiled, oh your smile, one of the few things that could ease his aching, “I’m fine, I’m fine. You should be with Megumi, he’s the one who actually got hurt.” You told him

Toji shook his head, slowly letting you go, “The brat’s fine, made me leave to check on you, the smoker’s with him.”

You said nothing at that, but it didn’t matter, as his eyes fluttered over to Yuuji, who looked a little roughed up himself, but otherwise fine. Then, his eyes went over him, Nanami, the one who carried his son until police cars came and picked them up and took them to the clinic. According to Yaga, before he came inside, he was the one to fight off the intruders, saving both his son’s life and your own as well.

Despite everything he felt, he knew he owed this man a great debt. He walked over, holding out his hand, “Listen, I never got to thank you for taking my son to the clinic,” his voice came out in a mumble, yet everyone looked like they heard him.

Nanami glanced down at his hand, before slowly reaching out enveloping his own hand as well. Their hands were similar sizes, and the handshake was stern, a good one as well. The two of them locked eyes, narrowed as their hands continued to shake up and down. No more words were exchanged between the two of them, all being said within that singular gesture.

Toji was the first to let go, slowly pulling his hand back before putting it back into his pocket. He then turned to look at you, seeing Yuuji and yourself turning away from each other before looking at the two of them once again.

“So, have they figured out who did this?” Toji questioned, “when I got here, the cops were still outside looking over things.”

The reminder caused your body to slump over, a downhearted look on your face as you sat back down on the couch. Almost immediately, Nanami placed his hands on your own, Toji’s eyes glancing in between you, who was taking a deep breath, and him, who kept his eyes solely on you.

“Not yet,” you started, “but I doubt that they’ll find anything now.”

Yet, your eyes glanced over at Toji with a glowering emotion, and he knew exactly what that meant. The two of you both knew who exactly would be the type of person to send goons to your home. He remembers how he strolled up to the back, seeing the slimy smile on your uncle’s face as he spoke to you, and how seconds away Megumi was from attacking but he was surrounded by his people as well. That wasn’t a problem for Toji, as he forced the men to leave the property. Deep down, he knew that the problem was not over, it never truly was. The moment your grandmother died, and left everything to you, it would be an endless battle until either one of you died.

The sound of the door opening took his attention, turning around only seeing the familiar tall form of Sheriff Yaga walking into the home. He spotted the four of you, making his way over as incoherent noises came from the radio he wore on his person at all times. Toji felt movement, looking to his left, only to see you getting up, and making your way towards Yaga.

Immediately, he began speaking, “Some of the men took the perpetrators down to the station, but they’re not talking without a lawyer. We’re gonna go ahead and charge them with trespassing, assault and battery and wait for their lawyer to arrive.”

A lawyer? Huh, seems like your uncle has this all planned out. Toji stood in and listened as Yaga laid out the situation to you and in turn everyone else including you. He mentioned the security tapes you had around here, and you confirmed that you’ll drop them off first thing tomorrow as well. He also brought up increased patrols, and that further relieved something within Toji, but still… the fear of your uncle doing something to you hung over you. However, he knew he needed to go back to the clinic soon.

Yaga soon left, and you went back to the couch, tired and dejected from it all, flopping onto the couch, “This is…”

However, a sound cut through the air, Toji feeling something move within his pockets. Quickly, he fished it out to silence it, only for his eyes to slightly widen at the notification.

The Smoker: “Megumi fell asleep, probably from exhaustion. Everything looks good, I may be able to take him either tomorrow or the next day.”

He smirked down at his phone, quickly texting her back that he’d be coming back soon. He could feel three pairs of eyes on him as he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Smoker says that Megumi fell asleep, and that everything still looks good with him.”

Suddenly, Yuuji stood up, exclaiming, “I need to go be with him!”

Toji held up his hand, seeing how he was about to jump out of his skin to run and go and see Megumi, “Hold it Pinky, lemme take you, Megumi will kill me if I let you go by yourself. Need to head back there anyways, talk about treatment plans and whatnot.”

However, the last thing that any of them have is to leave you alone. That would be his last mistake, and yet, Maki and everyone else were still in the city on their little getaway, and he already knew the smoker was preoccupied. His eyes fluttered right back to Nanami, whose eyes narrowed at the sight of Toji looking at him. Toji then looked back at you, pointing his thumb at Nanami.

“You trust him,” he asked you.

You peeked up at his confusion, and he could see confusion twist your face for a moment. For a moment, you glanced between Nanami and Toji, before slowly nodding your head. A sight left his mouth, ignoring his fleeting hope that you would say something completely different.

Turning towards Nanami, his eyes still narrowed, “Stay with her tonight, Blondie? Don’t want her to be alone until we learn all the details. All we know, they could send more goons.”

“Wait, Kento you don’t need to stay–” your words were cut off by the blond man sitting right beside you, whose hand stuck out and kept you seated.

“Never planned to leave in the first place,” is all he said to Toji.

Toji then nodded, ignoring the look in your eyes as you turned towards Nanami. Toji then looked over at Yuuji, with one jerk of his head towards the door, the young boy immediately got up, holding back his jitters. Before leaving, Yuuji gave you a long hug, telling you to be careful, as well as telling you that he would be back tomorrow, before making his way to the door. By now, Toji had already approached the door, hearing the boy following behind him. He unlocked the truck, letting the boy in, before making his way down the road back towards town. The car ride was silent, but he didn’t know if he should thank God or spit on his face. All he could think about was his hand on yours, how you found yourself at ease within his hold. This… man he’s never met before, someone who you never even bothered to tell him about. You used to tell him everything.

Do you even deserve that right, a nasty voice within him, a voice he hadn’t heard since the day he was kicked out of his family, it’s obvious that she’s moving on…

The Zenin family, the only ones to rival the Gojo’s… another story, for another day.

Now he was here, walking through the square, holding food for his son, his boyfriend, and himself. Suddenly, his phone rings, and glancing down at it, he smirks, before picking it up.

“Tell me you got something good for me, Shiu,” he spoke through the receiver, taking a quick right as he stepped out of some little kid's way as they ran, an exhausted mother soon following after them.

“Well, I definitely got something, from what I could find, her uncle is trying to make business with the Gojos.”

Toji’s eyebrows perked up at that, “The Gojos? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. What would they want in this backwater ass town?”

Shiu chuckled, “ ‘pparently, head of the company wants to break into, and get this, the mining industry, and that mountain in your little “backwater ass town” has a bunch of coal and other important stones. However, the orchard is stopping her uncle from being able to sell the idea to them.”

Greed is the motivation most people would use to try and do heinous things to others. Trust him, he knows just how far people will go to get a huge chunk of money. Remembering his life when growing up, the tactics his family would use… in all honesty, your uncle and the Gojos were a little tame in their efforts.

“Everything around the orchard is public property, so it’ll be easy for the Gojo’s to buy up everything else… but the orchard is the main problem. He wants to build some kind of quarry on top of it as well. Honestly… it’s not too bad of a plan, and it makes a lot of people a lot of money.”

Except for you, Toji thought. He knew just how much you put into this, how you went to college, specifically to learn more to be able to run the orchard, a stipulation from your grandmother. Your drive was what pulled him towards you after all.

As he walked straight, movement caught his eye. Thinking that it was just something random, a person going inside a restaurant, when his eyes fluttered to his left, and Toji froze mid-step. Everything within him froze, at first, his eyes could not believe anything that he was seeing. The frost of the air had no match for the way his blood boiled, angry heat erupting within him as he almost squeezed the phone in his hands.

“Fushiguro— hey, are you there?! I got some more for you,” Shiu spoke out, but he was barely paying attention, watching the sight before him, that was happening across the street at a restaurant.

Toji grunted and said that he was still listening, “yeah, apparently the Gojos are sending someone down to continue talking about the plans. I don’t know who, but watch out for him.”

His eyes widened as a handshake, between two people he knew, but he thought didn't know each other.

Nanami, the man who carried his son, the one who comforted you, while wearing a fitting, sleeked, and ironed business suit, shaking hands with the man who has caused absolutely nothing but detriment to your life. Before he ended the call, hastily he told Shiu to look into a man named Kento Nanami before shutting off the call. Toji flipped towards his camera app, before taking just enough pictures to give right to you. To give you so you could believe him when he tells you the man you were shacking up with had berated you for the moment you two met.

Kento walked amid the restaurant, walking behind a man. He was a thin man, and little shorter than Kento, and wearing a suit that was obviously bigger than him. In his hands, Kento could see, was a manilla folder, as well as two rolled-up papers, kept together with rubber bands. Kenot followed behind both him and the waitress, who took them to a booth in the back, gesturing for the two of them to sit and they did so.

The waitress took their orders, and while Kento simply ordered water, the man ordered a sweet tea, as well as his own appetizer without looking at the menu. Once the waitress left to fulfill their orders, Kento pulled at the menu, flipping it open just to see what they had to eat.

The man, seeing Kento flip through, quickly placed his bony finger within Kento's space pointing towards a certain thing on the menu, “their double-loaded burgers and fries, I especially think you should try, Mr. Nanami.”

Kento simply hummed, waiting a moment for the man to pull his hand away, so he continued looking at the menu. It was all quiet, until the waitress came back, giving Kento his water and the man his sweet tea as well as his appetizers before asking for main dish orders. Raden, Kento expected for him to order the double-loaded burgers, while Kento ordered a shrimp carbonara pasta. If Harris felt a way for Kento not ordering the same thing as him, he didn’t say it. The waitress wrote it all down before smiling and leaving.

“Alright, we should probably get into business while we wait for our food,” Harris began, pulling out the papers and unrolling the cylinder of paper.

Kento watched as Harris unveiled two blueprints to him, looking similar yet very different.

“Mr… Harris, what exactly am I looking at here?”

The man in front of him smirked, “this is the plan to allow for a new mine to be built right here, see within these mountains,” he brought a pen, pointing towards the area where the mountains were, “is a plethora of untouched coal and even other rocks as well. Untapped potential.”

Kenot could not lie to himself, his mind beginning to make the calculations, as he remembered all of Satoru’s sentiments in their previous meetings. There were many times he had mentioned the mining industry, one of the few things the Gojo’s don’t have any stake or claim within. A conglomerate as big as that one, and having an interest in an industry was something he would be interested in. He can see why Satoru decided this would be worth his time if he never knew what was going on.

“Not only that, but we’ll also build a quarry, not too far from the mountains as well, and it’ll bring out even more investment as well.”

He suddenly pointed out an area on the prospective blueprints, circled where it said: “QUARRY.” Kento slowly nodded his head, before glancing between that and blueprints of the town, to see just how much things would change.

Kento tilted his head, blinking as he continued to glance between the two blueprints. Aligning up, he could not see your orchard on it all, at least on the prospective blueprints. Leaning over, turning the papers to align with each other, he could feel his heart skip a beat in budding fear.

Your orchard was nowhere to be seen, and right above where it was supposed to be were those words “QUARRY” written in big letters.

He looked up at Mr. Harris, “I feel like I should point out the obvious obstacle here,” he pointed to your orchard on the blueprint, “the orchard here.”

His heart further dropped when Mr. Harris didn��t react, in fact, his smirk only widened.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s a work in progress. See, I grew up on that Orchard, just have to deal with a stubborn family member and it will be all ours for us to do as we please.”

His eyes were wide, but still, he tried his best not to show a reaction, yet all he could think about was everything, that day you rushed out when the two of you first met, those people who caused a major disturbance at your booth during the Vibirum festival, when those goons rolled and attacked Megumi as well. He had a feeling that this man in front of him was the reason that it was all happening. Did… he wished to scare you off the property…?

“Well, that’s definitely a lot,” Kento started, yet was interrupted by the waitress bringing their food over to them.

The conversation stifled for a bit as the two of them began to eat, Kento ignoring the way the cheese from his burger dripped on his chin.

Wait a minute, Kento thought, did he say that he grew up on the Orchard. He remembered you saying that you were the only child of your parents… but this man was obviously older than you, too old to be an older sibling of yours. Yet when he looked back at Mr. Harris, in his eyes, Kento was suddenly blown away by the sudden familiarity of them. The eyes, the exact same eyes. You and him had the exact same eyes, yet yours was filled with shining light and his were filled… with malice.

This man was definitely a relative of yours, but he wasn’t a brother… however, it never occurred to him that your mother could have had siblings as well.

Kento fully-eyed him, Harris was definitely old enough to be your uncle. At that notion, he almost choked on his pasta, quickly swallowing it by picking up his glass of water and taking a few steps. The two of them each ate half of their food, before asking the waitress for trays and bags before focusing right on the matter at hand.

“Well, Mr. Nanami,” Mr Harris started, “what do you think? I’ve had this plan in motion for just a little over five years as well.”

Just a little over five years? Around the time your grandmother passed away?

“When you said you grew up in the orchard…?” He couldn't help but ask, he needed all the information he could get before he acted.

At this, his smirk turned more melancholy, looking down, “the orchard was founded by my mother and father, but it was really her running everything, my father would only listen. It was me, my younger sister and my older sister as well, may god rest her soul.”

“May God rest her soul.” was all the confirmation Kento needed about who he was. Said older sister, the one who by his words passed away, was obviously your mother.

“When I left, my grandmother had the grand idea to leave it with my niece, who still owns it. But don’t you worry, once I tell her how much money she’ll make in this, she’ll sign everything over to me.”

Kento hummed, slowly nodding his head, acting as if he was moved by Harris’ words. Soon, the waitress came back, giving them their proper trays and bags. Harris stood up, saying that he had to go and that he hoped to hear good things from Kento before taking his leave.

The moment that he was out of sight, Kento let out a large groan in anger and frustration, his hands pressing up against his face. It took everything within him not to attack the man sitting right in front of him. The more he talked, the more Kento realized that Harris had been trying nonstop to take your Orchard from you. An impasse, Kento was at an impasse, because he knew, he knew that he couldn't take this deal. His heart tugged with him, telling him that this would destroy you, and everything you’ve worked for, and the last thing he wanted to do, was be the person who caused that. In so little time, you’ve made an imprint, a brand on his heart. However, his brain knew that this was exactly the kind of deal Satoru wanted to make. Despite his friendship with the man, he was still his boss, and his family is what created the huge company where he worked. What he said, goes.

Unless…

Kento got up, grabbing his bagged food, before leaving over two hundred dollars on the table to cover his portion of the bill as well as his tip. Fishing out his phone, he soon began to make a few calls, a rush of wind behind him as he exited out of the restaurant.

Standing, watching as the huge mixer plowed through the dough you were making for the apple donuts, a new batch for when the orchard opened up for the week. You wore your usual apron over your outfit, an old, fading white shirt, and ripped baggy gray-washed jeans. Gloves on your hands as you began to mix pomegranate juice in the batch of buttercream glaze that was sitting in your mixing bowl. As you mixed the red juice, seeing the glaze turn a slow purplish-reddish color, you smiled.

You wondered if Kento would enjoy these, as much as he enjoys the donuts. As you mix, you couldn't help but think of this morning, and how close the two of you were at that time. It was like the two of you were in your own little bubble, away from the world. Eating breakfast, answering hypothetical questions, everything. You let out a shaky breath as you remembered when he opened the door, revealing his body still drenched in water from his shower. You couldn't pull your eyes from the way the beads of water would drip down his body, dragging against the hairs that grew from… everywhere…

Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your budding fantasy, putting your focus right back onto the glaze in front of you. However, just as you are about to let go of the spatula, a loud BANG catches your attention.

A loud gasp leaves your mind, your body turning around as your heart begins to race. Was this it? Did your uncle send more men to attack you again? Reaching for your phone, your fingers immediately itching, thinking about the blonde man who told you to call him, when a shouting voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Where are you?!” Toji, calling out your name, his voice booming and echoing throughout the house.

Befuddled, you stopped the dough mixer from mixing the bread, before taking your apron and leaving the kitchen. Entering the welcome area, just as Toji walked in, sweating and breathing heavily.

“Come here, I have something to show you,” he grabbed you by the arm, ignoring your sudden shriek as he pulled you to the couch not far from you.

“Toji? What is going on with you? Is it Megumi?” you asked him, watching as he pulled his phone out before scrolling through it.

“No it’s not, but here!” That's all he said as he shoved his phone in your hand.

Once again, confusion was on your face as you glanced over at him. Toji only gave you a hard stare, causing you to shake your head before looking at the phone in your hand.

Blink… blink…blink…

Your free hand reached up to wipe your eyes, but you could feel a crack within your heart the more and more you looked at it.

“Toji… what am I looking at right now?” your voice was trembling, but you knew exactly what you were looking at.

“I think you know what it is, Princess.”

Princess… he hadn’t used that nickname for you in a long time, since you broke up. In the picture, you could see Kento, the very same Kento who was just in your home, who held you while you cried, carried you to your room, and everything. He was not wearing the clothes you had sent him in, but rather a black, freshly pressed suit, and his hand was outstretched, shaking with the bane of your existence, your uncle, Raden Harris. Kento had a neutral look on his face, while your uncle had a much wider smile as they shook hands. You scroll through the pictures seeing what happened in sequence, then shaking hands before entering Donna’s, one of the few restaurants in the Square.

“How… How did you even see these?” You couldn't help but ask him, shocking the phone back into his hands, standing up, and walking over one of the bookshelf walls.

As you stood there, trying your best to compose yourself, Toji spoke, “I saw them myself, was on the phone with someone who was figuring out why your uncle was even here. Ironic that I would see this at that time.”

Swiftly, you turned around, facing him, ignoring the tears that welled in your eyes, “you found out why my uncle is here?”

Toji nodded his head, “Gojo Corporation, they’re this big conglomerate that runs a lot of stuff. Heard of them, right?”

You nodded your head, allowing him to continue to speak, “Shiu, my contact, told me they’ve been trying to break into the mining industry. Your uncle heard about that, and thought about the mountains not too far from here. He wants to build a mine right here in Aquarine, and use your Orchard space to make a Quarry.”

Your eyes narrowed, “a quarry? What the hell is that?” your anger allowed the curse to easily slip through your words

Toji shrugged his shoulders, “don’t know, but needs this place gone for it to happen. So the Gojo’s were supposed to be sending someone to continue on with the plans, and on my way over here, I got more information on this Nanami guy.”

He opened his phone, this time opening his messages before shoving the device in your hands, allowing you to read the messages.

“Kento Nanami, 27, Chief Financial Officer to the Gojo Corporation.” you mumbled, only feeling yourself going more and more numb as you glanced over the information Toji’s contact gave him.

A CFO… something that he told you that he was… to the company that would benefit from the destruction of your orchard.

“Wait, wait, that doesn’t make sense, why would he take a class?? Why would he take my invitation to come here? He…he,” you began to stutter, “he fought off those men who were attacking Megumi! Come on, there’s gotta be an explanation–”

“There is no explanation!” Toji yelled, snatching the phone out of your hand, “he’s playing you! You’ve been played! Your uncle told him all about you and they made a plan to make you sell your orchard to them!”

“But he told me that he was meeting someone, why would he let me know what he’s doing if he wanted to take it from me–”

“Princess, I know how these rich people work, they think of themselves as God, he probably thought you were too stupid to even make the connection.” He told you, but his voice slowly became muffled, as if you dunked your head underwater as you went and sat down.

Your body began to shake, as you could no longer hold back your tears. Toji, seeing your state, came over to you, wrapping his arm around you before pulling you close. Almost immediately, you snuggled yourself into him as well.

“I know it hurts, but it’s the truth, and I’ll be damned before I let this person take everything you, and your family have worked hard for.”

You sniffed, saying nothing but you nodded your head, wrapping yourself within his chest and abdomen. His familiar scent, smelling of sweat, and intense cologne, comforted you, the nostalgia of when he used to hold you after long days of work.

Then, your phone rang, the melodious tones rang out, and your heart dropped at the sound. When you saved Kento’s number, you gave him his own ringtone, so you’d know it was him calling every time. That was the ringtone you two were hearing. Moving back, you pulled your phone out of your pockets, heartbreaking even further at the confirmation of Kento ♡ appearing on your phone screen. Toji glanced down, before seeing the name, his eyes filling with rage. Before you could decide on whether you wanted to answer it, Toji suddenly grabbed your phone, standing up to his feet before answering it.

“Toji!” you screamed, but it was too late.

Toji was loud, honestly, you’d never seen him yell like that. Not when Megumi made a mistake, because he rarely did, he didn’t even yell at him when he found out he was beating up bullies while at school. His words are full of venom as he tells Kento to stay away from you and from the Orchard as well. That if you even hear that he was close to you, that he’ll rip him limb from limb. He pulled the phone away from him, before ending the call, not bothering to let Kento get one word in. Toji typed away at your phone for a few more seconds, before tossing your phone back to you, reaching out and catching it.

“If he contacts you again, don’t let him near you, let me take care of this, okay?”

You opened your mouth but could find nothing to say. You could only watch as Toji walked out, his stomps heavy and ireful. He slammed the door behind him and stomped away. So now, it was just you again, your body lying across the couch as your mind began to catch up to everything that just happened. All you could do was lie there, ignoring the streaks of tears that rolled down your eyes. Was everything Kento– Nanami, told you a lie?

A flash in your mind, his warm smile on that day as you sat in your private area with your koi and goldfish pond… were you too trusting of a man you and only met so recently? In the time you had dated Toji, he had never made you feel the way you felt for Kento. In so little time too…

Were you too longing for love? For someone to understand you… that you would trust someone you hadn’t known for a week… to give every part of yourself to him, like you did on that fateful night?

For a moment you laid there, your mind running on every kind of emotion. Laying there aimlessly, until a slow realization that you still needed to finish preparations for tomorrow, and slowly, you pushed yourself up before wobbling abc into your kitchen. You had no time to cry anymore, you had business to finish.

Before you knew it, it was night, and you had long finished your preparations for opening tomorrow. The lights shut off, and with heavy clouds looming over your head, you made your way towards the stairs, to your private apartment. When you hear heavy pounds on your door, your head swiftly turns around as you stare at the closed door. Slowly, you made your way over to the door. The knocks never stopped, but climbing over the couch in the welcome area, your fingers fluttering with the thin curtains, moving the thin curtains back only seeing familiar blonde hair, his heavy and large hand still pounding away at the door.

“Please, talk to me,” you could now hear his voice through the door.

A gasp left your mouth, your hands letting go of the curtain, turning around. Your heart pounded in your chest, nervous breaths leaving your lips. The sudden movement must have caught his attention, cause the pounding stopped, and for a moment it was all silent. Then, the sound of footsteps caught your attention. You glanced behind you only to see Kento’s huge figure standing not too far from the window. You knew that he knew that you were there, yet you said nothing, just sitting there, waiting for him to say something.

“I’m… I’m sorry, can we talk, please?”

Your hand reached clenching at the fabric, feeling how your heart clenched. You wanted to, your heart wanted to, oh you so wanted to. To face the man you’ve fallen for to tell you to your face that everything you’ve heard wasn’t true. However, Toji’s words echoed in your head, the vexation and anger on his face, and it all stopped you. Frozen, your body couldn't move, even though your heart broke further underneath those pleas that left Kento’s mouth.

A single knock against the glass of the window, then, you heard a sigh, and the last thing he said was, “I’m gonna make it right, don’t worry, please.”

You saw his figure slowly fading away, your eyes watching him through the curtain closed until you could no longer see any remnants of him.

Four long days.

That was the last time you heard from Kento. Each day that would go by, your heart would crumble, and each day, more and more, you began to believe Toji’s words. Of how he was playing you. As you stood outside, wearing Toji’s old jacket and pair of sweatpants. you carried a basket of apples towards the wagon you had parked in the back of the house.

Today was the grand opening for your cafe, opening in two hours, and the entire town was talking about it as well. It was the last thing in your grandmother’s letter that she wanted you to do for the Orchard.

Inside, Megumi sat on the stool you made him sit on, scrolling away at his phone. The moment he was discharged, he also came straight here, if not for his father. However, that second day Toji dropped him off with you, saying that he wants to help as much as he can. At most, you made him carry a pan of pastries, but even if that, you made him sit down and watch, not wanting his wounds to be more irritated than they already were. Yuta, Nobara, and Inumaki were in the kitchen, preparing the last of the pastries as well.

Yuuji and Maki took the apples to the kitchen, while you stood outside, hands tucked away in your pockets. Taking a deep breath, inhaling the cool, crisp, December air. The feeling of the frosty wind nipping at your ears, bending your head back, letting out a loud sigh as you cracked your neck. Despite the heavy cloud weighing on top of you, you knew that it was no day for that, today was a happy day for you. You wanted to celebrate today, everything you’ve worked for, and this cafe was the culmination of your hard work as well. Then, you heard low humming, as well as the sounds of tires pressing up against the dirt. At first, you thought you were hearing things, but the sounds continued, before suddenly getting louder, and closer with each second. Confused, you made your way towards the front of the house, glancing around as you saw a black SUV suddenly roll up to the front. The car, most likely an expensive brand that you’ve never seen before, parked not too far from you, only leaving a few feet between you and the right headlight. Taking a step back, watching as the car turned off, the windows fully tinted not allowing you to see who exactly was inside. It couldn't have been anyone in town, the orchard wasn’t open at all, considering that apple season was over and the cafe wasn’t open for another three hours.

The doors opened, and your eyes widened at the four people who exited out of the big SUV. Coming from the right backseat, your eyes landed on blond hair, as well as a blue dress shirt, and as well beige pants as well. You took a step back at the sight of Kento, seeing him taking your mind for a loop, but that wasn’t the last thing that furthered the discord within you. Coming around the truck, it only sent you to despair to see your uncle standing there, his sleazy smirk on his face as he held papers in his hand, within a manilla folder. Was this how he was gonna fix it? By bringing the bane of your existence here to your home? However, your eyes looked over, and your eyes could not help but narrow at the two new unknown men standing right before you. They, much like Kento, wore their own expensive suits, although they matched with each other. One man had pure white hair, with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as well. The other man had long black hair, with a bit of it packed up in a bun in the back of his head, a kinder smile on his face. All four of them approached you, standing in front of the car.

“The Orchard is closed right now–” you tried to speak, the fakest smile on your face, as you hoped to get them away from you and your home.

“I heard you have a cafe here?!” The white-haired man suddenly cut into your words, as if he didn’t even hear you.

Behind the man, the black-haired man and Kento groaned, placing their hands over their heads.

Blinking, you tilted your head, “well, yes I do, but it’s not open right now, you’ll have to come back later.”

The white-haired man in front suddenly pouted, head and body bowing down, “please, I’ll literally buy one of everything!”

The black-haired stranger beside Kento suddenly stepped up, reaching for his white-haired friend, and lifting him up.

“There’s better ways to do this than beg, Satoru,” he stated, before turning towards you.

He smiled, “sorry about him, he’s… a lot to handle.”

You gave him a small smile, “That’s okay… but would he really buy one of everything?” you couldn't help but ask him.

The men glanced between the white-haired man– Satoru, and yourself, before nodding his head, letting out a sigh, “yeah, he would, he lets his sweet tooth lead him a lot of the times.”

The man introduced himself as Suguru Geto, before restating the claim the man in his arms stated that they wished to see your bakery as well. You glanced over at Kento, looking at him fully for the first time, and his words echoed into his head. He looked back at you, a tentative smile on his face.

“I’m gonna make it right, don’t worry, please.”

One chance. That was all you were gonna give him.

Facing the two men, you nodded, before telling them to follow you. However, before any of them could move, your uncle, who you forgot was even there, suddenly interjected.

“Excuse me, I thought we were coming here to convince her to sign the pap–” However, your uncle immediately shut up the moment that… Satoru…? turned towards him, glaring down at him.

At that, your uncle shut up, and you couldn’t suppress the smile and giggle that left your mouth, covering your head with the old fabric of your jacket. With that, they all followed you, walking inside the main home. Inside, you could see Megumi sitting at his stool towards your right, watching his head lift up. You could tell he was confused at first, but seeing Kento walk in made his eyes widen in alarm. Almost immediately he got up, but you signaled for him to sit down. He gave you a confused look, his eyes asking you “What were you doing?” but you just gestured at him to relax, before continuing to lead your party towards the cafe entrance within the house. You led them down a hall, before approaching the side, where a wide, open doorway, took up the space of two, maybe three doors, along with a sign at the top that said “Honeyed Orchard’s Cafe”

You walked into the space, walking past the tables and benches you had around this secondary entrance, before entering the main area of the cafe. The walls were painted an off-white, and there were hanging plants above you. The hanging lights had glass coverings, blown out to look like flowers, hanging above the small bar stools as well as the main bakery table. To your left, there were a couple of bar stools, underneath an attached table, allowing those who would be sitting to look outside the window, the town where the grove of trees was. Said window had sage green groovings as well, and the main door that led to the outside was also sage green. Walking in further, allowing all the men to see the glass casing, showing off all the pastries you and your grandmother created, pulling from her old cookbook.

A long whistle came out of Geto’s mouth, “this is really nice,” he complimented, taking a look around.

Seeing all the desserts in front of him, Satoru gasped, making his way towards the front, where Toge and Yuta, who were talking amongst themselves, suddenly stopped their conversation, seeing you and these four men behind you. He began speaking radically, as he basically ordered one of everything, pointing at all of it. At that, your two employees glanced over at you, seeing how you nodded, before getting to work.

You turned towards Geto, “thank you, my grandmother, most of everything was her idea, I just brought it to life for her.”

At the corner of your eye, you could see your uncle flinch at the sudden mention of your grandmother, his mother. You weren’t the only one who noticed that, seeing Geto and Kento take a glance at each other. All of you looked over at Satoru who was handing over a huge wad of cash, both you, Toge, and Yuta’s eyes widening at the sudden look of it, before he took the boxes and walked over to one of the booths within the bakery-cafe. Geto smiled looking at him, before nodding at you and soon joining him, taking a seat right in front of him. Satoru opened the first vox on top, pulling out one of the many pastries before taking a bite. As you watched him preen over the sweets, footsteps got closer to you, the familiar smell of cologne standing right next to you. Your head turned, heart beating at the sight of Kento right beside you. His eyes looked tired, but still, he smiled down at you, hands in his pockets. This time, you could no longer hold back your smile, before jerking your head towards the couple sitting at your booth table.

“Is this your way of “making it right?”” you asked him.

But before he could answer, you could hear angry huffing coming closer, You turned around only to see your uncle coming up two steps behind you, anger rushing over his face. However, before he could say anything, Kento stepped in between the two of you, his tired eyes suddenly turning into a chilled anger, much like an angry snowstorm.

“Any words you want to say to her can be redirected at me,” he said, your eyes widened at the gruff in his voice.

“If you have nothing to say, go sit down, we’ll deal with you soon.”

Your uncle’s face was astounded at the way Kento came to your defense, glancing between the two of you. He then narrowed his eyes, before pointing his long, bony, finger in Kento’s face.

“We had a deal, Nanami, don’t forget that,” was all he said, before going to walk away, sitting at the bar stools near the main entrance.

You and Kento looked at each other right after, smiling at each other once more.

“You know, you still didn’t answer my question,” you asked him, as the two of you began to walk over to the front.

“Is this your way of fixing things?” you repeated the question one more time.

He only gave you a smile, “just trust me.”

Your lips fell open just a little, before letting out a chuckle before turning towards Yuta, “give me two apple donuts, Yuta.”

The tired-eyed teen nodded his head, before fishing out two donuts with the tongs, wrapping them up, and handing them to you. Smiling, you gave Kento one, his eyes glancing down in surprise. His smile then reappeared, before taking the donut out of your hands, pulling the familiar red and white checked parchment away, before taking one huge bite. You eat yours along with him, the two of you smiling. Although you couldn't see him, you knew that your uncle was staring at the two of you, and you couldn’t help the elation that arose within you at that moment, at his heart racing about the fact that the two of you knew each other… and the fact that his plans are in jeopardy as well. Especially on the way, Kento jumped in to defend you from him.

Once finished with your treat, you glanced over at your new guests, watching as Satoru shared one of his pastries with Geto. Crumbling your parchment paper, you approached the two of them, wiping any crumbs off of your face as well.

“Are you two enjoying your treats?” you asked them, ending down slightly to be face-to-face with them.

Satoru swiftly turned his head towards you, his eyes glowing as if a kid on a high sugar rush, with a huge smile on his face, “you’re a goddess!” he suddenly exclaimed, before turning his head a bit to the side.

“You were right about this place, you won!” He suddenly exclaimed, turning around only to realize he was looking at Kento.

“Won…?” you questioned, glancing between the two of them, “won at what?”

But your words were drowned out by your uncle, who blew up, standing up from his seat before marching right over to the four of you.

“This is ridiculous, I thought we were here to make her sign the papers to realize the proterpies over to me! Gojo, you told me that this was why you came here!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the name he used, as he stared at the white-haired man who slowly dropped his pastry back into its box, before turning his head glaring at him.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes widened as his voice dropped at least three octaves, “were you speaking to me?”

The sudden chill that fell over the room the moment he spoke, only intensified the moment he stood up, facing your uncle.

“She’s not signing those papers, and if I hear about you trying this with other people, trust me, you’ll wish you’ve never even met me.”

However, despite this, your uncle didn’t back down, despite his body shaking with fear, “this deal is one of kind, and can make a lot of people a lot money–”

He was suddenly cut off by Geto standing, unaffected by the radiation of anger that Sato– Gojo was giving off.

“You heard him, this deal is off, and if he hears you trying to sell this off to someone else, we’ll personally deal with you.” The anger in the air intensified the moment Geto narrowed his eyes at your uncle.

Kento stood up fully, before joining the two of them, your eyes glancing between the two of them. The three of them stood together, radiating an energy you’ve never felt before, it terrified you, and you weren’t even the one they were angry at you. As you stood there, slowly relaxing that these two random men Kento brought to your home and business, weren’t random men after all, but instead held all the power behind the very company your uncle was conspiring with to steal everything you and your family had worked for.

“Get out of here!” that came from Gojo, your head turning as your uncle jumped, dropping all the papers in his hands, before scurrying out of the bakery.

It was all silent the moment he left, and after a few seconds, everything fully clicked for you. Your legs trembled and shook under the realization of the fact that it was over. Your uncle’s terrorization of you, your employees, your orchard, of your family’s legacy. It was over. You could feel yourself beginning to fall, your arms flailing about for some stabilization, when hands suddenly wrapped themselves around your waist, holding you right up. The smell of citrus and sage makes you look up, seeing Kento with a soft smile on his face.

“Told you to just trust me.”

The two of you locked eyes, and before you knew it, in a rush of energy, you pushed yourself up, wrapping your arms around him. They locked behind his neck, and you could hear Kento give off a sound of surprise, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist. Your body began to shake, as tears, happy tears, began to stream down your face.

“Thank you… thank you so much!” you cried in his ears, your tears beginning to stain his shirt.

With a longing hum, Kento pressed his own cheek into your shoulder, “you’re welcome, love.”

With over six new boxes of pastries, Suguru held them in his hands, carrying them towards the car, while Satoru and Kento walked behind him. In both of their hands were two cases of apple cider, twelve in each case as well.

“You’ve really fallen for her, ehh Kento, you’d even put your job on the line for her,” Kento’s eyes glared at Satoru’s teasing words, Satoru not caring as he nudged Kento with his elbow.

Despite his glare, Kento’s heart softened at Satoru’s mention of you. These past four days, allowed him to realize just how, and in just a little time he ached to see you. Putting things in motion was harder than he thought, but for you, he had little to no problem with how he did so. Glancing back at the house, where you were surrounded by every one of your employees, laughing and smiling with them as well. Kento didn’t even notice the smile on his face until Satoru pointed it out.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” Kento heard, turning his head around to look at his friend.

“Like what?” He couldn't help but ask him.

“...like I smile at Suguru,” he revealed.

The two of them glanced over at the black-haired man, who had just slammed the door to their rental, before walking around to the driver seat. Suguru turned towards the two of them, before beckoning Satoru, calling him over. Satoru, looking over at Kento one last time before saying,

“Don’t let her go, don’t let your father’s words pull you from the only one that made you smile like that.”

With that, he walked away, facing his husband before giving Kento one last wave before hopping into the passenger seat. Suguru waved over at Kento as well, before getting into the SUV. As he watched the huge black car leave, he could hear quiet footsteps approaching him, glancing back and seeing you standing not too far from him. He turned around, and the two of you just looked at each other, the wind blowing in between the two of you.

“We…” you started, “we should talk, huh?”

He blinked, before nodding his head slowly. With that, you turned around and began walking back towards the house. He said nothing, only following you, noting how the porch was empty of all your employees who were with you. He skipped in front of you, opening the door, you utter a small thank you towards him before walking inside the main house. Leading him towards the back, in the kitchen, where all the chatter that echoed through the room suddenly ceased, Kento looked up and saw six pairs of eyes all suddenly in him, all glowering, and all angry with him.

Suddenly, he swayed black spiky hair marching right up to him, his green eyes fueled with fire. However, before Megumi could say anything, you stepped in between the two of them, holding your arms out.

“It’s okay,” you cooed, smiling at Megumi, “me and Kento have to talk, don’t worry.”

“But he–” but you shook your head, causing him to cease his words.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, “the six of you go back to work please, we suddenly lost almost half of our inventory for each and every pastry and we have a big crowd coming today. I’ll be down soon.”

Looking over at them, watching as their apprehensive eyes slowly move away from the two of you, focusing on making more of everything that you suddenly lost. You were right, with Satoru buying half of the inventory you planned on for the grand opening of your bakery-cafe, and with less than three hours until the cafe opening, they need all hands on deck. Looking over Megumi, jerking your head towards them. With no other words exchanged, Megumi glances at you, and finally at him, before groaning, leaving and joining them once again. With no more obstacles, the two of you made it towards your private stairs, watching as you unlocked it, before following you to the top, to your private apartment. The lights were off, only the low glow of the cloudy sky was the only thing that allowed him to see two feet in front of him. Suddenly, a hand, soft as flowers, reached out and grabbed his much rougher ones. Kento looked up, only seeing your back as you left him on the couch, where you guided him to sit.

He watched as you walked in front of him, before taking a seat a cushion away from him, your body fully facing him. With everything, Kento never got a chance to fully look at you. Despite your clothes being covered in dirt from picking the last of the apples off the trees, you’ve never looked more beautiful to him.

“I… want to hear everything, from the moment you arrived here, to now, everything. If you don’t mind, please.”

Kento nodded his head, sighing as he faced you, and he could feel his knees grazing with your own, “I was doing business in the city, when I got a call from Satoru, who you just met today,” you nodded at that.

“He asked me to see about this possible business deal here, and at first I was gonna decline, but he called this as a favor that I owed, so I went. He told me that he didn’t know what it was about, but that he had a feeling, so he told me to check it out, since I was already close, I came.”

“All I knew at that time was your uncle’s name, and his number. I had no idea what he was doing, or what he was planning, and I never did until the day of our meeting. When I arrived, the meeting was set for two days after I arrived, and the day after I arrived was when I first took your class.”

Suddenly, Kento reached out, having no idea why, but he wanted to hold them again, longing for the soft touch once more.

“Since that day, I’ve never felt anything like the way I felt that day, then I did with you.” He confessed to you.

Your eyes widened, but he felt your hands clenching around his hands as he spoke, listening to every word he said.

“I�� don’t know, but since that day, I’ve wanted to know more of you, more about you. Those days we would spend time together were the best days of my life.”

Your eyes shined as you stared into Kento’s, your heart racing, his words like Cupid’s arrows, sending them straight into your heart. His eyes looked down for a moment, before looking up at you, his eyes shining, welling with tears.

“But then I hurt you, accidentally or not, I should have asked more questions, or even made a guess that my reason for being here was a lot closer to you than I imagined,” he said, shaking his head as he looked away

You gasped, shuffling closer to him, shaking your head, “no, I should have said something, I knew my uncle was behind the attack, but I never said anything. I didn’t want to drive you away,” you said, tears no longer holding back from your eyes.

“You could never drive me away, not now and not ever, darling,” he said, one of his hands leaving your hands, resting and caressing on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the one the closest tear to it.

“If I had known before the meeting, I never would have met with him, never would have bothered, but it was too late. So, I needed to find a way to stop your uncle from trying this project with him or with anyone else.”

“Inviting your boss all the way out here seems a little extreme, doesn’t it?” You couldn't help but ask, a playful laugh left your lips.

Kento shrugged his shoulders, “it was all i could do to stop him entirely, if your uncle was like I thought of him, which I was correct, he would have took his deal to the Zenins,” your eyes widened at that name, “and they are much more ruthless than Satoru, i could never stop them alone. I doubt there wasn't anything they would have done if they couldn't get your orchard.”

Your eyes blinked, Toji’s words about his old family echoing in your head, it seemed like he really was right about them.

“But I also knew Satoru, and if he thought something was a good deal, it would still take a lot to convince him not to take it. So I had to use the two things that would convince him not to, his competitive spirit as well as his sweet tooth.”

“Competitive spirit?” you questioned, before suddenly meaning Saotru’s words, him saying that Kento won after he had spoken to you while eating his desserts.

“You made a bet with your boss?” You questioned

“I made a bet with a friend, a friend who I knew couldn’t resist the call of anything sweet. I gave your deserts the highest compliments, which were true to every level as well, but he didn’t know that. I knew that it would catch his attention well, and it seems I was right.”

“And if he didn’t, you know, like my treats?” you couldn't help but ask him,

“Then I would resign as CFO, effective immediately.”

Your mouth fell open in shock, face wide, “what?? You put your job on the line? Kento!” You shrieked, squeezing his hands.

“Like I said, I would have done anything for you, but I knew your desserts would be up to the test. I really didn’t have anything to worry about.”

“But still,” you lamented, “you shouldn’t have given something that important to me.”

Suddenly, you let out a squeal as your body was suddenly pulled forward, your thighs landed in between his legs, his arm wrapping around your waist.

Gasping out a Kento, letting go of his hands, instead wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I feel like you're not listening to me, when I said that I’ll do anything for you, I meant that. Plus you said it yourself, “I’m getting the sense that you don’t enjoy the job as much as you want to…” You were right, I didn't enjoy that job, I hated it and everyone around me knew it.”

You looked into his eyes, “Kento…”

His grip suddenly let off a squeeze, a slight, hitched gasp leaving your lips, “the time I’ve spent with you, it makes me want to give all of it up. All the money I’ve made from this job doesn’t matter, I’ve made more in a lifetime to sustain myself. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Shifting your legs, so they could sit comfortably on his lap, you couldn’t help the way heat began to blossom within you.

“All that matters to me is you, and if I have to leave it all behind for you, then I will.”

“Kento…” you could say anything but his name, your heart overwhelming you.

“I love you, and I don’t care for how long we have known each other, this is the truth, my truth.”

You lunged at him, holding him in a tight hug, resting your head within the crook between his neck and shoulders, your sniffles muffled in his shirt.

“I’m assuming that my feelings are returned, then?” he chuckled in your ear.

Releasing him, your noses grazing each other, your eyes and face streaming with tears, and before you knew it, you had bent down, pressing your lips against his. You could feel his shock, Kenot definitely not expecting you to do something as bold as this, yet you couldn't care, especially not after he relaxed, before feeling him beginning to kiss you back. He tasted slightly sweet, of the apple donut the two of you ate together. As you kissed, your legs spread slightly, allowing your hips to slowly grind against him, feeling a slight groan leaving his lips.

With your lungs begging for air, slowly letting go, taking deep breaths, a sliver of spit connecting your wet lips with his own. Nothing but the sounds of your breaths, before looking into his eyes, they were dark, filled with a mixture of love and lust, and it was all for you.

“Kento…” you trailed off, but he shook his head,

“We shouldn’t,” he tried, but your nails dug into his hair, keeping his eyes right on you, “you,” he let out a gasp as your lips soon attached themselves to his neck, “you have the cafe to open–fuck–” he suddenly choked, his head being thrown back at a certain spot at his neck.

Glancing over, you looked at the clock, watching the two hands click around the 7 and 9 numbers, before looking back at Kento, smirking.

“Grand opening is in two hours… I’m sure we’ll be finished before then, if not, I'm sure the kids downstairs can handle it, Kento,” you teased, smirking as your tongue slipped out of your mouth, slowly trailing against his neck.

He let out another shaky gasp at the sound of his name, your tongue, his grips sliding down to your baggy sweatpants, squeezing your bottom.

“BOSS!! We’re low on apple cider! And we got over a hundred people coming! Stop locking lips with your boyfriend and get down here!”

Your eyes widened at the sound of Maki pounding away at the door, the two of you jumping at the sudden sound. You glanced at each other, suppressing your smile while seeing Kento’s tentative own appearing on his face,

“Guess they couldn't handle themselves,” Kento joked, before lifting you up on your feet and fixing his clothes.

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, as you pulled your hoodie down, “more like they just want to block my blessings, they can easily make that apple cider by themselves”

Turning around towards your door, before taking a step before suddenly being flipped around, a squeal leaving your mouth before being muffled. Your lips pressed into a sudden kiss that disappeared as quickly as it came. Eyes widen, looking up at Kento who simply winked at you before keeping his arm right around your waist. With no other words, your own arm wrapped around his hips before walking towards the door.

SIX YEARS LATER

The hot summer sun shined down on the two of them. The sweat on his brow slowly dripped down, his arm reaching up as he wiped the slate liquid off his face, swaying from his blond eyebrows. Then, with a lot of force, he lifted the heavy ax with his hands, holding it high in the sky, he brought it down with equal force. The sharp edge of the ax sliced into the rotting wood, the strength easily splitting it into little pieces. Behind him, he could hear a little bit of grunting, glancing behind him, he saw Yuuji’s foot underneath a shovel, the metal part dug underneath the roots, and the ground lifting along with the roots.

“Yuuji, I told you to leave that to me, you need to finish grinding the rotting wood,” Kento spoke, slowly placing the ax down in a safe place.

The pink-haired young adult whines, “you’ve been doing a lot of this recently, I can’t let you do everything! Boss told me to help you!”

Kento shook his head, a smile on his face, “she knows better than to think I’ll let you do this, go grind the wood, we need it for the compost for the new trees from the nursery.”

Yuuji pouted, but he let go of the shovel, walking over to the pile of split wood, along with the woodchipper and its attached container, sitting on the stool. However, before he could turn it on, a voice called out to the two of them.

“Daddy!!” A voice screamed

Kento’s furrow relaxed, a smile appearing on his face as he turned around, only to be faced with a beautiful site. At two years old, his daughter, Kaia, was full of energy and spirit, her smile wide as she was running up to him. Kento looked over at Yuuji, seeing him already up and collecting the ax and shovel to keep away from her as she approached them. Behind them, you were walking up, your curls out, slicked up and held together, shining against the summer sun, wearing a simple, bright purple bodycon dress. In your arms, a basket hung from your elbow, probably with lunch for everyone out here.

“Oh, my baby,” his smile was wide, as his daughter ran into his arms, her little arms wrapping around his neck as much as she could.

“Daddy, you stink,” her little face grimaced as she sat in her father’s arms.

Her words didn’t deter Kento, in fact, it only made his smile wider, “oh I stink, huh?” is all he said, before wrapping his arms around her tighter, hearing her little squeals as she tried to squirm out of his hold.

By the time Kento let him go, you had already arrived at the area where they were working. Yuuji screamed “Boss!” before making his way over towards you.

“I see the two of you have been working hard,” is the first thing you said, running your fingers through Yuuji’s hair as he gave you a long hug.

Kaia ran back over to you, her arms wrapping around your legs, easily attaching herself to you. Kento walked over to you, seeing a smirk slowly appear on your face as he stood right in front of you. His arms crossed as you tilted your head, following his actions and crossing your arms as well.

“Well, hello to you, Mr. Nanami,” you teased, slightly straining your head to look up at him.

Almost immediately, his arms shot out, wrapping themselves around your waist, “and hello to you, Mrs. Nanami.”

Kento leaned down, prepared to kiss you, his wife when all of a sudden a loud “eeeewwww” suddenly stopped the two of you. Kent glanced around, while you looked down, no longer feeling a pressure on your legs.

“That’s nasty,” your daughter called out, sticking her tongue out as she sat in Yuuji’s arms.

“Come on Kaia, let’s leave the two of them alone.” Yuuji said, turning around while holding your daughter.

Kento heard giggles leaving your mouth, his heart beating as he heard them. Even after all these years, you could still incite such a reaction from him, his cheeks already pink from the hot summer sun, only deepening as your hands slide from his arms to his hips.

“If you're gonna go, you should take this basket, it’s got lunch for all of us,” you called out to Yuuji, who swiftly came and took the basket out of your hands.

Kaia shifted from his arms to his back, commanding Yuuji like a horse to go faster, running into the orchard towards the pond. Now with the two of you alone, nothing stopped him from leaning down, softly pressing his lips up against your glossy ones, so familiar with the texture, urging him to deepen the kiss. Despite the two of you living together and mainly working in the same place, he kissed you as if he had been away for a month. He could feel your hands gripping the fat and smile of his hip, your head and back bending backward, your knees buckling underneath the pressure and pleasure of the kiss.

The moment he let go, you let out a breathy “Kento,” your eyes fluttered as you looked at him.

Four long years, it’ll be four years in the winter season when he made a decision that changed his life for the good. In those four years, he quit his job at Gojo Inc., but still kept his stocks in the company, as well as a well-packaged pension, a gift from Satoru and Suguru when he made his decision a year after meeting you. The two of you got married two weeks after he quit his job, and nine months after that, the two of you welcomed your gorgeous and lovely daughter as well. In those four years, life has changed immensely for both you and Kento.

Your uncle no longer came by, no more threats to you for the orchard. Kento, Satoru and Suguru made sure of that. Megumi went abroad for school, pushed by you, Yuuji, and Toji as well. With confirmation that you and he will talk every week, he went on a prestigious scholarship to one of the top schools globally. Yuta, Inumaki, Maki, and Nobara all go to the college closest to the town, with them still coming on the weekends and breaks to work. Yuuji decided to follow in his older brother’s footsteps, working as a junior officer at the station, but he still works at the Orchard as well.

It’s been an eventful four years.

He hadn’t spoken to his father in two years, an obligatory call when the man’s birthday floated around the corner. After that call, it was time to let him go, hiring an at-home nursing company to take care of the elderly man until his final days. The feeling of you pinching his side brought him out of his mind, looking down at you to see your face, while smiling, eyes filled with concern.

“Everything okay up here?” you mumbled, one of your hands leaving his side.

He shivered as he felt your hands run through his hair, the shorter nails scratching against his scalp.

“Everything’s fine,” he mumbled back, his head bending back in slight thrill at the feeling of your running lines through his hair.

“Just happy, at everything that’s happened, how much my life changed the moment I came here.”

You smiled, lifting yourself up at the tips of your toes, before placing a longing kiss on his cheek, “I’m assuming it changed for the better?” you questioned.

He nodded his head, before tightening his grip on you, his heart leaping out of his chest as he heard your squeals as he dipped your body down.

“Kento!” You squealed, holding onto him, as he leaned over you, beginning to press kisses all along your face.

The sun hovered over the two of you, shining over your love as he kissed you, and you accepted his love in full force as well. In the background, you could hear your little girl telling the two of you to hurry up in her little sweet voice. Slowly lifting you up, Kento held you close, feeling your head leaning against his arms as the two of you walked into the Orchard, towards the pond.

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

He’s not good to anyone at all, but now a lost man has something to look forward to. A light to guide him.

A lost man has been found and surrounded with the love he deserves.

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sant-riley · 2 years ago

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[Random Task force 141 × gen z! member headcanons]

A/N: Reader goes by the codename Teddy in my writing! Along with she/her pronouns :) I am also extremely biased with Ghost so her main pairing is more towards with him compared to the others <3. I know absolutely nothing about the military so this is not accurate I am so sorry💀.

CWs: Dark Humor, Age gaps, Simping, crude humor, cursing. (not sure what else but lmk!)

Chances are, you're the youngest in the entirety of Task Force 141. Just a good couple of years younger than Gaz.

When Laswell brought her in to meet the group, they couldn't help but stare at her in confusion. A tiny girl who couldn't have been older than any of them. Soap couldn't help but chuckle while Ghost nudged him in the side to shut him up.

"This is your new rookie on the team, her callsign is Teddy. Treat her well."

All the men nodded, watching the younger woman shyly smile and wave towards them.

First they realized that her humor was, in Ghost's words, fucked.

Any minor inconvenience had her saying she wanted to be hit by a car or some type of bodily harm, Price quickly whirling around with eyes widened. "Now, I don't think that warranted that kind of response, don't you think?" "Oh it definitely did, Captain." And she'd walk away without another word.

He swears he gets gray hairs from everytime you make casual talk of you dying. He actively tells the others to check on you bc he genuinely don't know if you're serious or not.

Ghost is not up to date with shit, man uses no social medias oncesoever so everything she spouts is wildly out of pocket. References to basic things like tiktok, Twitter, Instagram? He just silently stares at you like you're on drugs. You can't really use your personal phone on base but you try your best to explain memes to him. He sighs and rubs his forehead with a groan of "I'm too old for this shit, teds." "Oh come on! You have to at LEAST know the meme about the marines eating crayons!" "What the fuck are you on about?

The only ones who know vaguely what the fuck you're on about sometimes are Gaz and Soap, despite them still being a few years older.

Granted, they are not caught up with everything but they actively make it a point on leave to try and be up to date bc of you and your mannerisms. Plus it makes you happy when they fire back a quote they learned.

Can yall imagine Soap on tiktok, what random shit he'd have on his fyp bc he doesn't know how the algorithm works 😭.

Teddy has made every single one of them a personal playlist when she does have her phone, Soap once caught her adding songs and hasn't stopped teasing her since. Price and Ghost pretend not to care and barks at Soap to leave her alone but they're equally curious. Ghost contemplates stealing her phone to see it.

Doesn't matter how serious or dark their job may be, you simp for fictional characters, loudly. Price has learned to tune it out, Ghost although slightly jealous, finds it endearing, Gaz and Soap indulge you and will actively ask about why you like the characters you do and how much you love them bc they like to see you excited. It's a nice feeling when they're always in life or death missions.

You're the smallest one in here okay, everyone can easily throw you without batting an eye so they all take turns training you! They all despite knowing you can take care of yourself, would still like to teach you all they know so should you come against a taller/stronger opponent, you'll be okay.

You are the most protected person in the entire squad, esp when going out for drinks, Ghost will put you in the middle between him and Price and basically make a wall of muscle around you. He says he doesn't care and that he just doesn't want to be pestered by creepy people coming up to you but he will literally stare down any man or woman who even tries. He is the creepy one in everyone else's scenario. Soap just laughs and tosses back his drink.

They all notice your ticks and tells, seeing your leg start to shake when you're anxious, when you start cracking your fingers when you're restless, how you will avoid eye contact at any cost. They start to find ways to soothe you in their own ways. Price will give you a pat on your shoulder, sending you a smile.

Gaz nudges you with his body to take your attention off the situation, or he'll simply start asking you random dumbass questions just to see your face change.

Soap will, if he has gotten permission before, just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, running around with you while you scream for him to let you go. Is also not against tickling you straight up to get you to smile.

Ghost tried to be as subtle as he can be. If yall are sitting close to each other, he'll make sure some part of his body is gently pressed against yours. Whether it be his foot, thigh, hand, some part of him will ground you. You try and reassure him that you know he doesn't care for personal touch but he just says to shut up.

Meeting Graves was a trip, for everyone involved besides you and Grave. Absolutely having no control over calling him a irl Fix it Felix. You were on Graves shitlist and honestly you wouldn't be surprised he betrayed yall for that one comment bc of how angry it made him.

Constantly being told to be quiet, but you cannot help it and will make little quips over comms. Ghost takes after you and starts to say horrible "dad" jokes that make you choke trying to hold back. Soap hates both of you and calls you unfunny.

They realize you're impulsive, especially when you show the amount of tattoos you have.

"I joined the military to fund my tattoo addiction." "You know what? That's not even a surprise."

Going home on leave is always a bitter experience, you never look excited to go home. So one of the guys (usually ghost) will offer you to come with them. It helps 3/4 all live somewhere in England so it's easy to see them/ take trips to their place.

They're all attached despite knowing better. They can't help it and they know they care for you so much more than other force members.

Ghost and Soap bristle when Alejandro makes a mention that he'd offer you a spot in his team, impressed with how you can take opponents twice your size.

"¿Te interesaría quedarte en México?"

"The Hell she will."

If you'd like to be tagged in future works, please comment under my rules that are pinned to my blog!

#okay this got rambley real quick but hey its my blog i can do what i want #ghost <3 #soap <3 #price <3 #gaz <3 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #gen z!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john price x reader #headcanon #kayla writes <3 #fem reader

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hermaeusmorax · 4 days ago

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What have you done?

CHARACTERS: Jayce x reader, slight Viktor x reader (more platonic!)

SUMMARY: you, Jayce and Viktor share history. You're arguing with Jayce about his actions in the Undercity. Reader is described having a metal arm!

WARNINGS: SET IN SEASON 02 EPISODE 06 SPOILERS AHEAD! this is very angsty, descriptions of death and bodies, gets steamy in the end (minors DNI!), enemies to lovers type shit (my jam!)

A/N: okay so this is my very first piece after a 4 years HIATUS (hiii haha), anyways, fucked up Hexcore!Jayce is just sooo *twirls hair*

"What have you done?" You scream as you blindly lunge towards Jayce, a random weapon tightly clutched in your hands — no doubt discarded by some, now dead, Noxian soldier. You could barely see an inch in front of you due to the surging chaos, but you were sure about Jayce, you would never mistake him, his silhouette, his scent.

It had been months since Jinx's attack on the Counsil. Months since Viktor emerged out of the Hexcore changed, taking you to Zaun with him and leaving Jayce behind. You were a chemist, Viktor's childhood best friend that stuck by him since the very beginning. You and Jayce had a brief, intense, spark. It happened before him and Mel, before it became hard to grasp his attention, being Piltover's golden star and everything. It hurt when you left him, standing at the laboratory, his pleading brown eyes boring holes into yours and Viktor's backs. But Viktor was right, your paths, your visions, had long strayed, being held together only by lasting affection.

In Zaun, at Viktor's — The Herald's — growing community, you acted as a chemist again. Helping the newly cured zaunites, researching to improve their lives as much as possible. You had been specially busy since Vander's arrival, severely mutilated by Viktor's former teacher and in desperate need of help. You were working in your makeshift lab, absent mindedly humming a familiar tune when hell broke loose.

A loud, sharp sound echoed, followed by more crashing sounds and piercing screams. Smoke rose in the air, making it almost impossible to inhale. For a split second you could hear Viktor's voice in your head whispering, "Jayce", you ran as fast as your legs permitted, desperate to locate the origin of the sound, to locate Viktor. When you finally did find them, you wished you hadn't. The starking image of his limp and dead body made your breath hitch, mind speeding so much to make sense of things it made you dizzy. Blood rushed to your ears, making a deafening ringing sound, you rubbed your eyes, squinting to adjust, then you saw another figure, a tall and dark frame.

Jayce looked, different, but your brain had no time to process that information as you grabbed the first weapon you could find thrown on the floor, lunging at him. "What did you do?" "How could you?" "I hate you!" you breathlessly shout, aiming for Jayce's head with your stray weapon, then again, you never were much of a fighter, that was Jayce's job. The last thing you heard before the world went complete black, was his voice, a cry of your name, sounding so broken and lost.

"Sorry for knocking you out like that. I hope your head's not hurting too much." you heard Jayce's soft voice, distant at first as you were regaining consciousness, then close, right at your ears. You slowly woke up, blinking the throbbing pain away you were at last able to recognize your surroundings.

Jayce had brought you to your old laboratory, right at Piltover's heart, where you had last seen him, where you had left him. You were sitting in a chair, your mechanical arm resting on the table beside you, laying alongside dirty, well-worn tools. "I fixed it. Your arm. It looked broken and I-" Jayce blurted out, stopping with a nervous chuckle when you looked at him. "My technique might not be as delicate as Viktor's but it's fixed, working. I promise!". When Viktor's name left Jayce's lips, a haunting image of his corpse flashed in your mind, compelling you to leap forward and forcefully grab Jayce's collar, gripping so tight your knuckles turned white, drained of blood. You were trembling horribly, fueled by an ugly mixture of grief and hatred, your words came out hoarse, stinging like a whip.

"You promise? Ha! You killed him Jayce! You- you just disappear and then when you finally come to us, you go and kill him? What's wrong with you? I don't know you anymore, you've become someone else entirely and I- No!" you were panting, tears angrily threatening to spill "That's too gentle for you, you're a murderer, Jayce, a monster!".

Jayce's mind was racing, spinning with the force of your words and then it finally snapped. "Shut the fuck up!" he tore your hands away from his shirt, holding your wrists and pulling you close, pressed up against his chest. "You have no idea Y/N! You can't possibly begin to understand what I was put through!" "I was in there, while you and Viktor were out here playing house!" "I kept my promise!".

Jayce's eyes were red, frantically shaking looking into your own, in desperate search of something. He was so close, you could feel his heartbeat and his breath fanning your face, his scent was attacking your nostrils mercilessly, engulfing you in his presence. Like this you could almost see the old Jayce inside there, somewhere — untainted, full of promise — the one you fell hard for. All it took was a single look from him. A single, meaningful, glance down to your mouth from his so pretty brown eyes. He was so, so close. Next thing you knew you and Jayce were in each other's arms, kissing so forcefully it almost broke skin. Kissing like your very lives depend on it, like you'll die of asphyxiation if you stop.

Jayce hoisted you up the table, sending tools and papers flying, both of you couldn't care less right now. He positioned himself in between your legs, leaning some of his body weight on you, forcing your back to meet the cold surface beneath. "Jayce!" you breathed out, talking into his mouth, gasping for air and breaking the kiss for a second too long. Your hands, firmly resting on the back of his neck, wandered to the hem of your shirt, fidgeting with it, trying to lose it. Jayce noticed and made quick work of your shirt, hurriedly sliding it over your head and tossing aside to a forgotten corner.

"Don't stop" you huffed against him again, voice dripping with want, you struggled blindly to unbuckle his belt, too busy reciprocating his fervent kisses to bother to look down. "I got you" Jayce urged, going crazy with the way your lips felt on his, even more addicting than he remembers. He reached down, tugging off your pants and underwear in one precise motion. Your senses were completely overwhelmed, all you were able to think, see, hear, smell and feel was Jayce.

You were both pouring everything into this kiss, into this very moment. Bleeding years of bottled up love and regrets into each other's systems. Even still, you harbored feelings for him, and him you. Despite the hurricane of emotions and thoughts swirling inside your head, a small, nagging voice coming from the darkest dephts of your mind, kept quietly chanting "What have you done, Y/N?"

#arcane x reader #arcane imagines #arcane scenarios #arcane x you #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #arcane angst #jayce angst #arcane spoilers #jayce imagines #jayce scenarios #arcane reader insert

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yoditopascal · 3 months ago

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Like A Prayer (Part 4)

summary: best friends with wade you’re always being dragged into something even when he’s not trying to, what are you to do when you find the fate of your timeline in the hands of yourself, your chaotic merc and an angry wolverine who’s hellbent on drinking himself to death?

content warning: romance, some angst, a little fluff, character deaths, canon-typical violence, smut, lots of cussing, mutual pining, found family, drug and alcohol use, reader insert but with no use of y/n cuz I hate that shit, deadpool being deadpool, mentions of poor mental health (depression anxiety and ptsd mostly), scent marking, the honda odyssey scene needs a warning all on its own MINORS DNI

a/n: edited by the ever so lovely karmiccc on ao3! Comments and criticisms are welcome!

tag list: sorry if you weren’t tagged I tried tagging everyone that asked but some usernames didn’t work! @allmyn1ghts @blooket-scares-me @amararosesblog @talanyra @spideybv28 @sadslasher13 @night-spectrum @eveieforeve02

Previous Chapter//Next Chapter

On Your Left Babygirl

Wade watches from the corner of his eye as your feet drag behind you, the now limp Wolverine was pressing his full mass into the two of you, and you were clearly struggling with the newly added weight.

“One Anchor Being coming right up, on your left, baby girl!”

“This Logan has everything! He can do pretty much anything the old model could plus he even sings musicals! And he’s actually wearing a costume like he’s not embarrassed to be in a superhero movie for once!”

“I don’t understand.”

“You said my universe is dying, because this sad sack of nuts got himself killed. Well, problem solved!”

“Y-you actually think you can replace an Anchor Being with this?” Paradox says between laughs pointing at Wolverine still on the floor. “I wouldn’t have accepted any other Wolverine bee tee dubs, but you’ve brought me the absolute worst Wolverine there is!

“What do you mean the worst one?” Wade asked, walking closer to Paradox.

Just as Wade was less than an arm’s length away from Paradox, you saw the off brand Mr. Darcy reachout and grab something behind his back. You jump forward placing yourself in between the two men just as Paradox drew his weapon.

“Wade watch-!” You don’t get to finish your sentence as Wade watches in absolute horror as you disintegrate into nothing in front of him.

Wade falls to his knees as if trying to catch your particles that were still floating about in the air before disappearing entirely.

The distinct snikt of Wolverine unleashing his claws breaks Wade out of his trance as he watches the Wolverine, now back on his feet, lunge for Paradox with his claws in pure rage before disappearing too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Logan groans as he sits up, cracking his neck back into place. He raises a hand to shield his face from the harsh rays of the sun above him as he lets out a sharp hiss from the incoming headache he was starting to get from the combination of the fall and all the alcohol he drank earlier.

Barely starting to sober up, he looks around himself with a grunt as he stands, taking in the environment around himself.

If he had to guess he’d had no idea where the fuck he was. The scene around him was dry and arid like a desert, only this one didn’t seem familiar to him at all. There was all kinds of trash and debris around him like it had been dumped here and forgotten. Taking in a few greedy inhales, Logan scented the air, coming back with only faint traces of smoke, dirt and something else, something sweet and fresh and familiar but still different at the same time.

Turning his head to follow the source of the smell Logan spots you, laid out face first on the ground. He walks up to you apprehensively, not knowing if he could trust you or not but as he approaches he realizes you’re out cold.

Getting a closer look at you now he’s able to take in your features up close. If you were a shapeshifter of some kind like he previously thought, you were a hell of a good one. At first glance you looked just like her, the same hair and big doe eyes that used to look up at him. You were even dressed the same way.

Squatting down to your level Logan’s able to get a much better whiff of you from here. There’s no mistaking a scent, even when Morph and Mystique used to try and trick him back in the day but it never worked because they could never change their smell.

There was no doubt about it, the smell was definitely yours. Shamefully Logan found his eyes wandering down your frame slowly as he drank you in, eyes lingering on your ass for a few seconds before turning you over onto your back, and God, even your face was the same. The longer he looked at you the more he realized you really were her. Only, you had less pronounced smile lines, and were less muscular, having probably only known peace in your life, you had appeared more softer than she had been. Just as his gloved hand was a breath away from caressing your cheek, he’s ripped from his inspection by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground behind him.

Standing to his feet, he looks back at you one last time before looking at the disfigured body of the guy in red from before as his bones snap back into place. He sniffs the air again, realizing the man that had just fallen from the sky. He smelled absolutely rancid to him, stinking of blood, gunpowder and a distinct sickly cancerous smell.

Definitely a threat. Logan concludes as he starts to walk up to him.

Wade coughs as he rolls over onto his back, looking down between his legs as Wolverine walked up to him, stopping right as his feet, “Don’t just stand there, you big ape. Give me a hand!”

Wolverine stared down at him, his hazel eyes swirling with contempt and silent fury as he unsheathed his claws.

“No, I’m actually okay, thank you,” Wade barely finishes his sentence before he’s being stabbed through both his sides, letting out a sharp curse as Logan hoists him in the air like a kebab.

“Where the hell are we?!” He demands.

“I don’t know! It all looks kinda Mad Maxy but that would be copyright infringement, wouldn’t it?!” Wade cries out as Wolverine harshly drops him to the ground.

“Fucking jokes,” Logan scoffs before turning his back to him, walking towards your still unconscious form.

“Hey hey! You stay away from my pookie bear, you hear me?” Wade warns as he cocks his gun pointing it at the back of Wolverine’s head.

“Or what?” He dared the man to continue.

Wade lowers his gun as he realizes how fast the situation was starting to escalate, his eyes dart back and forth between you and the very ready to rip his guts out Wolverine before he curses to himself. After putting his gun away, Wade raises his hands up in the air as a way to appease Logan as he began to warily approach him.

“Look, we don't have time for this alright? If we don’t make it back to that Paradox asshole. Everyone I know is going to die,” Wade starts to explain the situation to him but Logan rolls his eyes as he turns back around, continuing to walk towards you.

“No, my fucking problem,” Logan replies coldly as he waves him off.

Wade felt his blood boil. He was never a patient man, nor a very nice one, but compared to this guy? He was a fucking saint. It was an insult to everyone that his Anchor being replacement had to be such a dick.

“Is that what you said when your world went to shit?” Wade shoots back to Wolverine, stopping him in his tracks again.

“Come again?” Logan growls, turning back to face him.

“Yeah, I heard all about you.” Wade began as he turned around, becoming increasingly exasperated by the situation at hand, ”You screwed up everything, but you really should be thanking me for pulling you out of that bed you shit-“

Wade let out a scream as searing pain shot through his body. Looking down he sees the infamous adamantium claws of Wolverine protruding through his chest.

“Oh, you backstabbing son of a bitch!” Wade grunts in agony as he’s hoisted in the air again, this time on his back.

Fighting back against the pain, Wade uses his own momentum to flip himself behind Wolverine, throwing them both onto their backs on the ground, the blades of the Wolverine’s claws tearing more of his flesh and bone on their way out as he did so. Without missing a beat Wade pressed his guns against Wolverine’s sides and shot out several rounds as the older man let out a guttural scream of pain.

“Are you ready to be calm now?” Wade asks almost mockingly, guns still pressed to Wolverine’s ribs.

He’s met immediately with a headbutt, no doubt breaking his nose underneath the mask.

“Fuck!” Wade swears in pain as Wolverine rolls off him.

Not giving Wade any time to gather his bearings, the older mutant grabs him by his ankles before throwing him into a wall. Wade heard the bones in his arm snap as he crashed through the cement wall, tumbling backwards against a sunken monument that seemed familiar to him. Wade groaned as he stumbled back up to his feet, his arm snapped back into place painfully as he reloaded his gun.

“I don’t want to fight you, Peanut! Doesn’t matter what you did. I just need your help.” Wade called over to Wolverine as he stood across from him in the wasteland.

“I don’t fucking care,” Logan snaps back as he spits out a smoking bullet, the rest falling from his torso, his healing factor working over time to push them out.

“Fuck, this is gonna hurt,” Wade says more so to himself than anyone else, “Alright! Fuck it! Let’s give the people what they came for!”

“Let’s fucking go,” Logan says as he crouches down to his knees, readying himself for whatever Wade was about to throw at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You take a sharp much needed inhale through your nose as the final bone in your spine snaps back into place. Sputtering out a cough you sat up bltrying to block out the blinding light of the sun with your hand as a headache pulsed through your skull. Looking around you slowly take in the dilapidated scenery around you.

Where the hell were you? You thought to yourself as you looked down at your watch to check the time.

The screen was broken, a crack having spiderwebbed across the screen. You weren’t exactly sure when it had broken but from what you could tell from when it had stopped working it was well beyond midnight.

“Oh I’m so fucking fired tomorrow,” You say with a groan as you rise to your feet dusting yourself off.

The sound of shouting and rapid gunfire drew your attention in the distance. Approaching the sound as cautiously as you could, you peek over a mound of rubble to find Wade being held down by an enraged Wolverine with Wade’s katanas and baby knife sticking out of him, reminding you of a human pin cushion.

“Let’s see you grow your fucking head back!” He shouts as he goes to sink his claws into Wade’s throat.

Picking up the first thing you see laying around you run up behind the Wolverine hitting him in the head as hard as you could, breaking the branch in your hands on impact. With a heavy grunt, he stumbles off of Wade onto the ground.The Wolverine clutches his ear as he snaps his head up to glare at his assailant. The rage in his eyes shifts to shock as you stand over wade protectively, glaring down at him with your broken branch raised high and at the ready for you to swing at him again if need be.

Snapping out of his daze, Wolverine gets to his feet and with his claws sheathed going to strike the red suited clown again, when hastily Wade rises to his feet, immediately moving you behind him with his hands raised up in surrender.

“Wait, wait, I can fix it! I know how to fix it!” Wade shouted at the Wolverine not willing to put you or himself in the Wolverine’s wraith.

“Fix what?” Wolverine asks has he slowly starts to lower his fist as he looks back and forth between you two.

“Whatever it is that you did that made you so bad! Those freaks in the TVA, they have the power to end our universe, but they can also change yours!” Wade says pushing you further behind him, not liking how the man was eyeing you.

Logan looks between the two of you incredulously as if trying to understand if what Wade just told him was true or not.

“Well?” He asks gruffly, eyes now completely focused on you.

Realizing he was talking to you and that your answer might be his deciding factor on whether or not to help you, you take a deep breath as you walk out from behind Wade who looks at you skeptically for a moment.

“We just traveled the multiverse trying to find you because of the TVA,” You began with a surprised chuckle still reeling in that fact that you actually did do that as you returned Logan's intense gaze,“Until today I didn’t think any of this kinda stuff was possible… But it is so I believe him,” You said exchanging a look with Wade as you finish, he nods his head to you almost in thanks.

Logan stares at you a bit longer before letting out a frustrated huff as he looks away, sheathing his claws. You nearly let out a beath of relief at the sight until the older man resumed his attention on you two again. The Wolverine looked back and forth between the two of you as he felt his nerves starting to grate again.

“How the fuck do you know this clown?” Logan asks annoyed, his fists were down at his sides but still balled up ready to fight again if he needed to.

Peeking over Wade’s shoulder, you part your lips about to answer him when suddenly you're cut off by a new voice.

“Hey! We fight each other, we lose,” Said a voice from above you all.

Puzzled, you all look up in the direction the voice came from.

“Who the hell is that?” You asked scrunching your face up in confusion as you use a hand to block out the harsh rays of the sun from your vision.

“Dear God its him…” Wade said, astonished.

“Who?” You asked as you and Wolverine share a confused glance.

Above you, on a worn down billboard, stood a man. He was covered in loose fitting dark clothes with a hood draped over him, blocking his face from view.

“That my little chocolate drop is the One. The superhero equivalent to comfort food or molly. White guys’ answer to all the disappointments in another A-lister,” Wade went on rambling as the cloaked man jumped down and landed before the three of you.

“Now that’s a superhero landing!” Wade clapped as the cloaked man turned to point out into the desert

“They're coming,” The man said.

Alarmed, you all look in the direction of his focus. On the horizon you all could see three cars speeding towards you, all three of the giving off serious Mad Max vibes.

“Well they’re definitely driving angry,” Wade joked, though you could tell by the drop in his voice that he was assessing the entire situation very much aware of the danger you two were about to be in.

“I got this,” The cloaked man said pulling down his hood to reveal a familiar face, “Stay close.”

“Aye aye, Cap,” Wade says walking up behind him to wrap his arms around the man before he pulls them off of him awkwardly.

As the cars neared they circled around the four of you a few times, some of the men blew out crude whistles making you cringe in disgust as you clutched your broken branch to your chest. Finally they stopped, their vehicles parked around you, caging you four in.

“Cassandra is going to be giddy when she sees what we caught!” A man with stringy greasy hair grins, showing off his filthy teeth to the group, “You know you can’t run.”

“You see anyone running, dick for brains? You’re not gonna love what happens next,” The cloaked man retorted.

“Oh my god, he’s going to say it!” Wade says smacking one of his katana’s that still protruded from the Wolverine’s chest.

Logan stumbled back a bit with a weak ‘ah fuck’ as you instinctively reached out to steady him. He turned his head to look at you as soon as he felt your hands on him. You held his eyes for less than a second before abruptly removing yourself from him, now focusing on looking at anything else but him.

“Avengers Assem-!” Wade begins to shout as if anticipating what the cloaked man was about to say, however that’s not what he said at all.

“Flame on!”

“Sorry, what now?”

The cloaked man shot out into the sky in a ball of fire. He hovered over everyone for a moment before blasting out a stream of fire directly at the greasy man that had spoken before. The greasy man grins as he holds his hand out, absorbing the flames before he twists his fingers cutting off the cloaked man’s power like a faucet. The man barely had a second to register what happened before he began his miserable descent from the sky. He hit the billboard he was standing on before twice before flopping on the ground, completely unconscious.

“We don’t know that guy,” the Wolverine was quick to say.

“We thought we did,” Wade agreed as he looked over the unconscious man before turning back to the group of thugs.

“Oh but I know you,” A beastly looking man with pitch black eyes said as he dropped down to their level from atop a car.

His dark orbs were fixated on Wolverine, who returned his glare with his own as he bared his teeth at him with a growl.

“Holy shit… Sabretooth… your brother,” Wade said, a hint of excitement in his voice as he looked between the two.

“Ready to die?” Sabertooth asked as he stalked towards them, eyes never leaving Wolverine.

“Wait! Wait! Wait! Time!” Wade calls out as he begins to remove his weapons from Wolverine’s body giving him a long winded nonsensical pep talk in normal Wade fashion.

“Shut the fuck up!” Wolverine growls out, shoving him back into you.

What an asshole you thought to yourself with a scrunched up face.

The Wolverine lowered himself into a fighting stance before the two mutants lunged for each other. The two collided briefly in the middle as the familiar sound of metal tearing against bone and flesh rang through the air, before sliding past each other entirely. Both brothers stood on opposite sides of the dry field.

“What is it, girl? Is there trouble at the well?” Wade mocked with an innocent tilt of his head.

You might’ve laughed at the Lassie reference if it wasn’t for the fact that not a second later Sabretooth’s head rolled off his shoulders and right at your feet. You scrunched up your nose again, turning your head away in disgust as Wade picked it up.

“Behold! The head of your precious Queen, Furiosa! I have the Wolverine! I alone control her! You come for me! You come for her!” Wade declares as he raises the head in the air like a prize before he leans over into Logan’s ear, “I’m so sorry. I know it’s pronounced him. I’m gender blind. It’s my cross to bear.” Logan simply rolls his eyes at him.

“Who’s next?” He challenges looking around at the men who were left, waiting for someone to step up to him.

The greasy man let out an amused chuckle before calling out to one of his partners “Toad! You’re up!”

You look towards the other mutant and resist the urge to cringe again as he shoots out his slimy green tongue and pulls a lever. Instantly it activates a giant metal magnet that drags both Wade and Wolverine off their feet and into its pull.

“Wade!” you called out, unaware as a giant sentinel leg comes flying at you from behind, stunning you as it flies towards your companions, carrying you with it.

“Oh fu-“ Was all Wolverine had managed to get out before you and the sentinel leg crashed into him and Wade, knocking out the three of you on impact.

#logan howlett imagine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #wolverine #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #platonic deadpool x reader #deadpool x reader #hugh jackman #like a prayer

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satinroses · 6 months ago

Text

how Yan! harbingers would react to you cheating (separate)

Gn! Reader

A/N: i regret to inform you but there’s no Pulcinella, Pierro, Arlecchino or Sandrone :[ i’m sorry i just don’t know their charas well enough yet/i don’t feel qualified to guess (i haven’t finished fontaine archon quest yet :0) also im sorry scara's is so long... hes my fav :]

Warnings: dark content ahead, if you aren’t comfortable with dark themes please don’t read!! delusions, infantilisation, minor character death, torture, THINLY veiled threats, explicit violence, obsessive behaviour, murder, vaguely implied non-con, financial manipulation

Capitano:

Throughout all the harbingers Il Capitano was the sole member who adhered to a strict code of honour. Despite his obsession with you he had always tried to treat you with chivalry and honour - even if his heart desperately lusted for him to steal you away for himself. It was well known among his fellow harbingers just how deeply Capitano idolises his beloved spouse, seeing you as his own personal beacon of light.

Naturally when the news reaches his ears he refuses to believe such vile insults being levied against you. Instead he has the rumour monger brought towards him so that he may personally administer a punishment for daring to speak against his beloved.

Capitano refuses to believe you would betray him in such a matter unless you decide to tell him yourself or he catches you in the act. He would need a moment to collect himself, his mind racing with thousands of different explanations and reasons. He had never once raised a hand towards you, he brought you gifts from his travels around Teyvat, he never allowed anyone to speak against you and yet you still betrayed him… Then he realises - clearly your supposed ‘lover’ has led you astray. That’s the only logical explanation. That filthy low life had whispered honeyed lies in your ear and in your naivety you had believed them. That wretch has sullied your honour and as your spouse it's his solemn duty to shield you from such vile brutes.

When someone as sweet and virtuous as you exists within such a tainted land it’s only natural that greedy grasping hands will try to stray you away from Il Capitano’s benevolent gaze. It’s not your fault. You clearly didn’t know better. He should have held you much closer to his chest. This was all his own fault.

Alas he cannot turn back time but he can ensure justice is fulfilled. He won't allow the miscreant that sullied his beloved’s honour to parade about without any consequences, so he does as any respectable man would and challenges your new lover to a duel for your honour.

When the first harbinger challenges a man to a duel it’s commonly regarded to be a death sentence and this is no different. Capitano truly tells himself that he is doing this entirely for your own good but the rage in the way his claymore swings down on your beloved’s head tells an entirely different story. Capitano had killed the man with the first swing of his claymore yet the blows kept raining down upon their body until all that remained was a pulverised mass of flesh. Capitano hadn’t killed them, he had butchered them. It’s clear this duel was not as selfless as he would lead you to believe. Despite his vehement denial, this was not for your honour but rather for his own twisted vengeance.

Tears stream softly down your cheeks as you watch Capitano slaughter your lover but once the fight is over he rushes over to you. His hands cup your face as he shushes you gently, cradling you softly as he tucks your head into his chest. Because of his penchant for darker clothing you couldn’t see your lover’s blood staining him but as your face was buried against Capitano’s chest you could feel the crimson ichor staining your face as you inhaled the coppery scent.

Childe:

Tartaglia relished in challenges, exhilarated by new chances to prove his strength and test his power yet somehow this new obstacle was not as enjoyable as he might have predicted - perhaps because he now realised he was losing. All those dreams of marrying you, raising children with you, growing old together felt like mere delusions when he realised that your heart now lies with another.

Tartaglia is commonly regarded as one of the more level headed harbingers, sure he had an inhumane amount of strength and the combat prowess to match yet that was a given to climb as high in the Fatui as he had. In spite of his usual friendly demeanour Tartaglia felt a bitter emotion brewing in his heart.

Upon learning of your infidelity the eleventh harbinger can’t help but laugh. He truly believed everything had been going so well between you two - I mean sure sometimes he got a little possessive and maybe his feelings for you were so intense he felt like they were going to burst out of his chest, splitting him clean open - but he was human! He had flaws too! He just couldn’t understand what this other guy possibly had. Well it’s not like he’ll need to either.

Tartaglia sets down his bow, instead settling on a blade. He wouldn’t use half his strength to murder the rival for your affections, besides he wanted this fight to be close and personal. He wanted them to see him coming.

He marches straight for your lover, challenging them for your hand in a public setting so they can’t help but feel honorbound to accept. He makes an entire spectacle out of the duel and he ensures you’re there too so you can see just how utterly pathetic and out-classed your supposed lover is, so you can realise he is clearly the better choice. Ultimately your lover stands little chance against the mighty harbinger, struck down with unmatched brutality, the glint in Tartaglia’s eye showing just how much he’s enjoying massacring his rival.

He looks confused when he looks aside from the bloodied corpse left behind to see you struggling against the two Fatui agents restraining you to keep you from interfering with their master’s duel. “Why are you upset? You were clearly conflicted between us but now your pretty little head doesn’t have to worry about it! You couldn’t decide so I decided for you.” he says before leaning in closer, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers “and if you ever feel conflicted again, come straight to me and I'll be sure to decide for you again.”

Columbina:

You had always felt… unnerved by Columbina. She was always so delicate with you, caressing your hair sweetly, holding you tenderly, brushing soft kisses against your lips and cheeks and yet - something about her felt off, unnatural even. There was something about her that was not entirely human and perhaps that’s what led you to seek comfort in the arms of another.

When you decided to tell her of this you had expected the saccharine facade to melt, to be met with the monstrosity you feared was hiding behind her angelic demeanour. Instead she simply smiled gently, almost knowingly. Her grin never once falters when she arises from her spot on the floor, patting your head as she skips out the door of the room. You stand in the foyer utterly perplexed by her behaviour but terrified she might inflict her wrath upon you if you lingered. You ran back upstairs to your own chambers, your head buried beneath the blankets as you tried to steady your breathing. You stayed there until the sun began to rise, having half expected Columbina to creep into your bedroom in the night and inflict some bloody vengeance on you. Instead the morning came without incident.

You crept down to the dining room where breakfast was being laid out by the maids. It was utterly silent and Columbina still hadn’t arrived with the only noise being the gentle clattering of porcelain and your own breathing as the table was set. There sat the morning paper in your usual spot, you didn’t feel inclined to read, far too on edge about Columbina’s surprisingly docile reaction to your infidelity. You were about to move the paper aside entirely until your eyes brushed across the headline

“12 FOUND DEAD LAST NIGHT: AUTHORITIES PERPLEXED”

You all but collapsed into your chair as you opened the paper. Vomit bubbling up your throat as you continue reading. 12 people of similar physical appearances were found slaughtered in their homes with no signs of breaking and entering, no witnesses and no sign of a struggle. It's likely the victims hadn’t even known their assailant was in the room until they were already dead. A terrifying tale no doubt but what truly unnerved you was the very clear resemblance the victims held to you. From skin colour, to hair colour, to eye colour, height and weight, you and the victims were near identical with only minimal differences. You couldn’t breathe. Your heart was hammering so violently you swore you could feel it against your very ribcage. They didn't even know their attacker had entered the room until they were already dead… how did you know that she hadn’t crept into your room last night, standing there, deciding whether she would do it or not…

Hot tears welled in your eyes as you heard the soft patter of bare feet wander into the dining room. She sat down in the seat directly across from you, still beaming at you. This smile was different however, her grin was tight against her face and very clearly forced, far too big to look natural on the woman. This smile was not a smile, it was a warning.

Il Dottore:

Quite possibly the worst outcome for both you and your lover. Il dottore is not a man to be trifled with, even his fellow harbingers could acknowledge that. You don't even need to tell him about your affair, he already knew. He could tell from the way you shied away from his touch, how easily startled you were nowadays, how your pupils dilated and breath quickened when you stared at your new beau.

However Il Dottore is an eternally proud man, his genius and academic revelations had single handedly transformed Snezhnaya into the Military power house of Teyvat. By turning to another for love and affection you had inadvertently snubbed the second harbinger and by your new lover daring to set their sights on something that so clearly belonged to Il Dottore… he wouldn’t accept it.

Dottore’s cruelty was almost as revered as his genius. To think someone had tried to steal away the affections of the one person he found worthy enough to love. Your lover will suffer a fate worse than death, that much is certain. Dottore is never against fresh meat to experiment on, perhaps he’ll see how many parts the human body can lose before dying, or maybe he’ll discover just how much skin he can flay off a man until he eventually dies. Don’t worry Dottore has always strove for perfection in all matters, particularly academic endeavours. He will find a way to keep your lover alive through his experiments for as long as humanly possible if only to ensure his results are accurate.

Now the moment he hears of your affair his mind is rife with ideas for your lover yet don't worry, he has plenty of ideas left for you too. From here on out you will never be without one of his segments watching over you. He will have constant eyes on you. You will never know a moment of freedom from Il Dottore but please don't fret my love, in his cold, twisted heart he does have a soft spot even if you refuse to believe it, so go ahead and dry your tears and be his agreeable little darling again or else he may leave you in the care of some of his other segments who are much less knowledgeable on how to love, on how to be tender with their darling and are far more inclined to simply take what they want rather than ask nicely.

If you still haven’t begun to return to doting upon him, or worse you take another lover… lets just say some of the younger segments have several questions about human biology that even the ingenious Il Dottore would struggle to answer without an example. So shape up or you might wake up strapped to his operating table so his segments can get a good look at how the interior of the human body functions and well… while he’s already gone to the trouble of cutting you open, wouldn't it be a shame if his name just so happened to be carved onto your heart. Don't worry! for that procedure, he'll give you some anaesthesia. After all, he doesn't want your squirming to make him hit anything important.

La Signora:

La Signora has lost and loved before she met you. After her husband's death she encased herself within an icy shell but whether intentionally or not you warmed her bleak broken heart and returned her fire and passion for life. With you she was Rosalyne not the crimson witch and for that she treasured and adored you above all else.

Rosalyne was all too familiar with the sting of losing a loved one but she had never had her lover willingly stray from her side. To know you would leave her after all she did for you? That you would betray her after she protected you time and time again, sheltered you from the cruel realities of this world and let you live in the lap of luxury… it was clear she had spoiled you far too much.

First she would start with the wretch who dared compete with her for your affections. She plucks his heart out as she did to that pathetic Anemo archon before charring it before his very eyes. Let his last sight be his own scorched heart falling from her hands and into the dust, where filth like him deserved to stay. To think he even thought he could compare with the illustrious 8th harbinger for your love… the wretched fool deserved far worse than what she gave him. Now that she thought of the man again, she could feel the crimson flame in her chest rising as she turned back to the man's twitching corpse. They’d be lucky if even ashes remained once she was done venting her rage on what was left of the man.

As for the matter of punishing her beloved… La Signora had always been a firm woman but for the sake of you and your happiness she had given you certain allowances and privileges such as walks in the garden, visiting Snezhnayan boutiques with her, having your favourite treats imported. That stops now. In her 500 years of life her ire had never once been turned towards you but now, with such a blatant betrayal… even her patience can run out. Perhaps a more permanent reminder of your status as hers is needed. How about we start with searing her name into your flesh with her flame?

Pantalone:

Having grown up in absolute poverty, Pantalone had fought tooth and nail for everything he had, crawling from the slums of Liyue to the very apex of the Tsaritsa’s court was no small feat. The thing is when growing up in poverty one quickly learns to cling onto what they value so it was no surprise that upon falling in love for the first time Pantalone was quick to assert himself into every aspect of your life. He wouldn’t be able to rest easily unless he knew for absolute certain that you were firmly grasped within the palm of his hand.

You were his most prized possession. So when he got news that someone else had spirited away your affections he was filled with the same raw, red hatred he had felt as a boy. The feeling of seeing another have what you rightfully deserve. Since he was a boy he had vowed that whenever someone took something from him he would reap the value of it tenfold. Upon learning of your infidelity you are immediately confined to his estate, all exits heavily guarded by Fatui agents. He encages you within his elaborate mansion not even allowing you to wander into the illustrious gardens. Each door is bolted and every curtain drawn tight as Pantalone refuses to allow the outside world to gain even a passing glance of his darling. The people outside clearly don't understand how to stay away from what is not theirs.

Don’t fear precious one, he doesn’t hold this against you… you’ve always been so weak willed, so vulnerable. It’s no surprise that sooner or later some brute would come and take advantage of your delicate demeanour. It’s really his own failing as a husband but don’t worry, you don’t climb as high as he has without learning from your mistakes and he will make certain that there will never be a repeat of this little incident. From here on out you will be kept firmly in his grasp. No one will see or speak to you without his explicit permission.

If you thought his gift giving was rather excessive before, now it's become suffocating. You're drowning in trinkets and presents. Everyday you're presented with rare delicacies, decorated with precious gems from head to toe and dressed in the finest silk garments imported all across Teyvat with his particular preferences in mind. He will do whatever it takes to keep you with him even if he has to clasp your hands in solid gold shackles to keep you close or weigh your pockets down with rubies and sapphires to keep his little treasure from flying away.

Oh don't worry he hasn't forgotten about that pesky little ‘lover’ of yours. Within an hour of learning of your infidelity Pantalone has the man’s full name, medical records, ancestry and blood type sitting in his hands. You’d be surprised at how eager people are to get in the good graces of the head of the Northland bank and the ninth harbinger. Your affair partner has been blacklisted from almost any job and anywhere that does hire him is immediately bought out or its owner suddenly has Fatui knocking on their door demanding exorbitant amounts of money in “debts” to the Northland bank. Your lover will be financially ruined, any family or friends who try to reach out and support him will similarly be suddenly met with financial ruin. Only once Pantalone has stripped every part of joy from your lover’s life and isolated them from all they love will he be finally satisfied to send them off to Dottore as a little present, after all the Doctor is always enthused by new test subjects.

Scaramouche:

Scaramouche is a naturally covetous man, even in normal circumstances he is undoubtedly the most possessive of the Harbingers. Everyone he has ever treasured has slipped through his fingers, now that he once again feels love he refuses to allow it slide through his grasp again.

Scaramouche would already keep you primarily confined to his estate with only very rare outings. On the occasions he is summoned to the tsaritsa’s side he makes sure to have several handmaidens and guards watching over you and If he must travel from his residence in Snezhnaya he will take you with him for fear of you falling ill or fleeing while he is away but even then you’re confined either to your carriage or the bedroom where Scaramouche is staying.

Despite his confident and cruel demeanour Scaramouche is a deeply insecure man who truly believes himself to be unworthy of your love however he cannot help himself from craving your sweet affections and doting all for himself. He dresses you in identical colours as himself, he hand paints his signature red eyeliner under your eyes every day, he ensures you smell of his favourite things and that you are dressed in traditional Inazuman fashions.

If you somehow managed to cheat on him Scaramouche would go utterly ballistic. You thought you had seen the sixth harbinger angry but the outburst you had seen couldn’t even compare to the tempest he would unleash upon you or any other person who dared to seek your affections. His estate would be a mess, shattered vases, broken chairs, torn clothing thrown about the rooms. Nothing survived his enraged outburst as curses and insults were thrown towards the man who dared steal away his beloved’s affection and adoration.

Scaramouche was restrictive before but now its unbearable. When he returns home after hearing the news he finds you waiting by the door for him, bowing politely as he had commanded you but instead of greeting you with a kiss or throwing off his elaborate hat he instead practically leaps towards you, his hand enclosing around your throat bringing your face to his as he hisses out

“You ungrateful whore. Do you really think I don't know about you and them? Did you really think you could hide it?”

He watches for a moment as your eyes widen as you realise what he's insinuating: he knows about your infidelity. Your eyes instantly flood with hot tears as you realise the torment that's about to be inflicted upon you. Unlike usual he takes no amusement in your distress, too overcome with the conflicting emotions bubbling inside him to even focus on how pretty you look with tears in your eyes.

His grip moves from your throat to your hair as he threads his fingers in it to grab you by the scalp before he drags you up the staircase of his estate. Too overcome with terror to be able to walk properly instead you allow him to drag you along by the hair as your trembling legs attempt to hobble after him.

Upon reaching your chambers he throws you down on the ground. You try not to take notice of the clump of your hair entwined in his fingers. Instead of punishing you however he instead turns back around, not even sparing you a glance as he storms out of the room, slamming the doors shut behind him. You lay splayed on the floor as he left you cradling your aching scalp as you wait for him to return with some device manufactured to inflict as much pain as possible.

Scaramouche does not return for many hours. It isn’t until the moon is high in the sky that the bedroom door opens and you see the balladeer return. The room fills with the coppery scent of blood, you’re certain if you had a lamp on you would see Scaramouche painted crimson. After several seconds of simply staring at your form the balladeer finally approaches you. Your whole body tenses as he bends down to lay himself on top of you, his head burrowed in your neck… was he about to rip your throat out with his very teeth? He could probably feel how hard your pulse was hammering under his cheek.

You waited for pain but it never came. Instead you felt the harbinger begin to softly shake, gentle sniffles being buried in your neck as his whole body curled in closer to yours. Your neck grows damp as Scaramouche tightens one arm around your waist and the other behind your head as he straddles your lying form. He uses his arm positions to pull you even closer to himself, his grip is verging on pain as he pushes your bodies together like he’s attempting to merge you together, to ensure you could never stray from his side. You half think you’ve imagined it when you hear the harbinger whisper in a hoarse tone

“Why can't you just love me?”

Maybe it was a sense of pity or you simply wanted him to calm down and get off you but regardless you wrapped your arms around him, cradling him softly. The harbinger’s cries ceased for a moment and you thought perhaps you had somehow managed to ignite his rage again but instead his shoulders began to shake violently as the intensity of his sobs picked up, wails coming out of him like a wounded animal as he clutched you close to him.

Only as the sun began to rise did Scaramouche manage to clamber out of your embrace, staggering out of the room. You stayed on the ground for another hour, trying to ignore the tacky, dried blood encrusted on your kimono. You changed your kimono before going downstairs for breakfast, hoping to gain an understanding of Scaramouche's mood, however as you went to push the doors open they wouldn’t budge an inch. He had locked the door tight behind him.

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felassan · 5 months ago

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More from Game Informer: ''A Deep Dive Into Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Combat, Abilities, Skill Tree, And More''.

The article contained new screenshots of skill trees - one for Level 30 Warrior Rook, one for Level 30 Mage Rook, one for Level 30 Rogue Rook, and one showing the 'pop up info' for the skill Wall of Fire. Going by these screenshots, the 3 specs for mage Rook are Death Caller, Evoker, and Spellblade. I think this is the first time the three specs for mages are confirmed. I wonder, is "Thorne" this Rook's custom first name, or one of the faction-defined surnames?

Text in last image reads:

"- Large circle: Class - Diamonds: Abilities - Medium circle: Major Passives and Ability Upgrades - Small hexagon: Traits - Small circle: Minor Passives and Stat Boosts"

Other excerpts from the article:

"Every single entry reimagines what combat is like and I would say our goal was to make sure we had a system that allowed players to feel like they actually were able to step into the world of Thedas. They're not a player observing from afar – they are inside of this world. Being this authentic world that's brought to life, the combat system needs to support that, so you are in control of every single action, every block, every dodge, every swing of your sword." [...] "During my demo at one point, we use a sword-and-shield Warrior Qunari that hip-fires and aims their shield to throw it like Captain America while hammering down big damage with a sword" [...] "a Mage's firewall that deals continuous damage" [...] "This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. This extends to companions, who, at your choosing, bring three abilities (of their five total) into combat, executed either with quick select buttons or the pause-and-play combat wheel. Every time you rank up a companion's Relationship Level, you unlock a skill point to spend specifically on that companion – this is how you unlock new combat abilities. " [...] "Passive abilities unlock jump attacks and guarantee critical hit opportunities, while abilities add moves like firewall and spartan kicks to your arsenal" [...] "Busche says BioWare's philosophy with the skill tree is "about changing the way you play, not the statistical minutiae."

"If you completely ignore companions in combat, they will attack targets, use abilities, and defeat enemies all on their own. "[Companions] are their own people, "Busche says. "They have their own behaviors, they have their own autonomy on the battlefield, they'll pick their own targets. As their plots progress, they'll learn how to use their abilities more competently, and it really feels like you're fighting alongside these realized characters in battle."" [...] "Busche says there are more explicit synergies, with intentional combos where specific companions can play off each other, and you can queue up their abilities to do just that."

"Busche utilizes Veilguard's dual-loadout mechanic. As Rook, you can create two weapon loadouts for quick switch-ups mid-combat. As a mage Rook, she uses magical attacks to add three stacks of arcane build-up to make an Arcane Bomb on a Sentinel, a mechanical set of armor possessed by a demon. If you hit the Sentinel's Arcane Bomb with a heavy attack, the enemy will take devastating damage. Once the Sentinel has an Arcane Bomb on it, Busche begins charging a heavy attack on her magical staff, then switches to magical daggers in Rook's second loadout, accessed with a quick tap of down on the d-pad to unleash some quick light attacks, then back to the staff to finish charging its attack. She then unleashes the heavy attack, and the Arcane Bomb explodes in a liquidy whirl of green magic."

""I've seen [Veilguard's combat] refined over time [and] I love it," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me. "I love that balance of real-time fluid action, but also the ability to have the depth in the RPG, not just in terms of pause-and-play, but the depth in terms of how you bring your companions into the battlefield. What are you going to do with their skill points? What's the loadout you're going to use? Everything is about bringing Rook to the center of the battlefield, and I love it." Former Dragon Age executive producer and Veilguard consultant Mark Darrah feels Veilguard is the first game where the combat is legitimately fun. "What I see in Veilguard is a game that finally bridges the gap," he says. "Uncharitably, previous Dragon Age games got to the realm of 'combat wasn't too bad.' In this game, the combat's actually fun, but it does keep that thread that's always been there. You have the focus on Rook, on your character, but still have that control and character coming into the combat experience from the other people in your party." I get the sense from watching Busche play several hours of Veilguard that BioWare has designed a combat system that relies heavily on players extracting what they want out of it. If you want to button mash and use abilities freely when their cooldowns expire, you can probably progress fine (although on the game's easier difficulties). But if you want to strategize your combos, take advantage of elemental vulnerabilities, and min-max companions and Rook loadouts, you can do that, too, and I think you'll find Veilguard rewards that with a more enriching experience."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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keksalot404 · 10 months ago

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Uh oh! Some BOZO decided to play UNDERTALE and UNDERTALE YELLOW at the same time (Both games FUN value was 66) and now the timeline is F*CKED (By about one year; It wasn't that long till Frisk came along)

This is the Guide to UNDERTALE ROM LEAK, mostly a frame of reference for me and you regarding this AU born from a doodle and a dream. Those who just want to see the art with no context, feel free to click the top pic and swipe down or something.

A Tale of 2.5 Souls

Seems like whatever the reason Frisk went to the mountain, they ended up tailing Clover, where the game begins. Control between the 2 fallen children is split, meaning that both Frisk and Clover are free to express their quirks and personalities more.

Adding to that, NarraChara is also here, being visible to Frisk, Clover, AND the player due to more determination in the area. Frisk still has higher DT than Clover, so they're in charge of LOADing and SAVEing as well as playing leader.

Prepare For Trouble, Make It Double!

Now obviously the timeline can't really be UT or UTY if all major events need to be dealt with. The universe's solution? Now every Major Character (and perhaps minor ones) are paired up with their cross game counterparts. While encounters for each monster can be seperate, eventually they will cross paths with eachother and the fallen humans.

With each section of the Underground now longer with even paired area newly connected (More on how that works later), it'd feel like even 2 player characters can't make it easy. Fortunately for a certain route, you may get some help...

Kanako

To fill a void for a Certain Short Scientist, seems fate pulled a few strings, and brought a new friend back from near-death! If you don't kill any monsters during RUINS, Kanako will sense your pure hearts and join the party, acting as the Ralsei to this Diet Fun Gang.

With healing and shield magic, she'll make your journey a lot more manageble, at the cost of not being able to kill any monsters all the way until Asgore (She will still allow you to spare monsters by lowering health but if she senses a chance to kill she will block the attack and scold you for it.)

Being a much more attentive protector than the Skeleton, she'll accompany Frisk and Clover through the emotional highs and lows of their journey, and perhaps maybe...

You'll find out the true reason she's helping you.

Stronger Monsters

For the characters of the 2 timelines being destined to meet, it is also true that destiny will point into blocking your path. For the Major Battles at least, you'll have to fight both of them at the end of each paired areas. An example being meeting North Star in Wild East only for Starlo's betrayal being calling Undyne to hunt you during Waterfall.

Expect combo attacks, fused soul modes, and complex strategies when facing the duel bosses. Some might even compromise Kanako from assisting. No fight has the same solution as the UT and UTY fights (except maybe Papyrus and Martlet), so be prepared and stay determined!

So have fun while you can, won't you? It's not likely you will get these games together again. You wouldn't waste this once-in-a-while experience just to do something you'll regret.

You wouldn't waste it just to see what happens...

...right?...

...

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jesswriteswrongs · 1 year ago

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Black and Blue

Fandom: Shameless (US)

Characters: Lip Gallagher x Female Reader, Veronica, Fiona, Ian, Carl, Steve

Summary: reader turns up at the Gallaghers house freezing and broken

Warnings: mentions physical abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, medical talk

Inspired by Bruised by @theapangea

Minors DNI

You ran, no idea where you were going, no time to grab a jacket, just running through the snowy night in nothing but your tank and underwear. You could barely focus, running and stumbling and running more, trying not to slip on the ice underfoot. Your feet were numb by the time you found yourself outside the Gallagher house, and the adrenaline that had got you there worn off. You gave two knocks, hoping they were loud enough, before slumping against the doorframe and willing the cold to take you over.

Inside the Gallagher house, Ian was watching a movie with Carl when there was a knock at the door.

“Hey Carl, did you hear that?” Ian asked his younger brother. Carl just shrugged.

“Hear what?” Ian frowned.

“I’m just gonna check the door, make sure nobody’s out there.” He reasoned, pausing the movie. He got up and opened the door to the empty street.

“Must’ve been the wind…” he muttered, before stepping back to close the door. Ian paled at the sight of you, covered in cuts and bruises, freezing to death in your underwear on the porch. “FIONA!” He shouted back into the house. There was a thundering on the stairs.

“What the fuck, Ian? I’m trying to…” Fiona’s voice trailed off. “Bring her inside.” Ian didn’t move. “Now, Ian!” Fiona shouted at him. The middle Gallagher bent down to pick you up, and you instinctively cowered away from him.

“Fi…” Fiona has already seen, and grabbed the thick blanket from the couch. She crouched beside you.

“Hi…” She said softly “look, I don’t know what’s happened, but what I do know is that you showed up at my house and if we don’t bring you inside you’re going to freeze to death. So, what we’re gonna do is we’re gonna wrap you in this blanket and Ian is going to bring you inside. He’s not going to touch you, just the blanket. Is that ok?” You nod slowly, barely hearing her as your brain was catching up with the events of the night. Fiona draped the blanket over you, and then there was an arm behind your back and another under your knees. Ian picked you up with ease and brought you inside the house, the warmth prickling against your skin.

“Carl, go next door and get V, tell her to bring her med kit.” Fiona barked, turning off the TV and clearing a spot on the sofa.

“Hey! I was watching that!” Carl protested.

“Bigger problems, Carl! You can watch the movie another time.” You barely registered this conversation as Ian gently put you down. Steve had appeared on the stairs to see what all the commotion was about.

“Ian, go and grab some of Lip’s clothes, sweats and a hoodie. Steve, I can see you on the stairs. Go put the kettle on the stove. Carl, V’s house, now. Everyone move!” The boys all went to do their respective jobs, Ian heading up the stairs, Carl grabbing his coat and Steve going to the kitchen. Fiona crouched down in front of you.

“It’s going to be ok, we’re gonna get you cleaned up and taken care of.” You nodded, still unable to process words to leave your mouth. Ian was the first back to the front room, clothes in hand. He put them on the arm of the couch so they were in easy reach, then went to the kitchen to “help” Steve. It was only another minute before Veronica entered the house.

“Ok, which Gallagher needs my help now, Fi?” Fiona stood up to greet her best friend.

“Not a Gallagher.” She sighed, leading V into the room. V saw you and immediately swore.

“Holy shit, Fiona! What the fuck happened here?”

“I don’t know,” Fiona said. “She’s a friend of Lip’s, showed up at the door a couple minutes ago and hasn’t said a word. She can hear and she’s reacting, fucking jumped out her skin when Ian tried to bring her inside, but I think she’s probably hypothermic.”

“Where d’she live?” Veronica asked, putting down her bag.

“117th.” Fiona supplied, running a hand through her hair.

“Fi, that’s a half hour walk from here.” V said.

“Yeah, I know.”

“In panties and a blanket?” Fiona bit her lip.

“Blanket’s ours.” Veronica swore again.

“That’s worse than I thought. I need a tub of warm water NOT HOT and some clean towels. Think you can get that for me?” Fiona nodded and went to get what was required. “Don’t you worry, Babygirl, we’re gonna get you all fixed up.” Veronica said to you. You didn’t respond.

Lip had been having a rough couple days, and had gone out for a few beers at the Alibi. He’d had a fight with his best friend about he didn’t even know what, but he knew it ended in her telling him to go fuck himself. He climbed the back stairs and opened the door into the kitchen, where he was greeted by Steve waiting for the kettle to whistle, Ian filling a plastic tub with water, and an air of intensity filling the house.

“What’s uh, what’s going on, guys?” Lip asked. Nobody responded. He moved further into the house and saw you sat on the sofa, Veronica in front of you, gently massaging your hands.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Lip asked, his voice low.

“Lip…” Fiona warned.

“What the FUCK is she doing here?!” Lip shouted. You flinched, pulling away from Veronica and curling yourself protectively into a ball.

“Phillip Gallagher!” Lip stopped. Fiona only called him Phillip in court. It was only then that he actually looked around. You were balled up on the couch with Veronica and a medical bag in front of you, Fiona had her phone in her hand with 911 already typed in, just then Steve came in with a steaming mug of tea, Ian following behind with a tub of water. Then he looked at you properly. The skin that wasn’t bruised or bloody was pale, your lips practically blue, and you were in your underwear. As he put the pieces together he wordlessly removed his boots and jacket, no longer caring about your fight, and sat on the couch.

“Hey, Bug,” Lip said gently “let’s get you nice and warm.” He pulled you in front of him, pressing his chest to your back in order to share his body heat. He coaxed your legs out, to allow Veronica to pour warm water over them, when he noticed something.

“V, stop a second.” He said

“Lip, time is of the essence here.” She replied

“I get that but just stop and look. She’s had sex tonight.”

“Are you really thinking about your dick right now, Gallagher?” Veronica was getting annoyed.

“Veronica!” He watched as the realisation slowly dawned on her.

“Fiona!” Veronica shouted. Fiona came into the room, phone pressed against her ear

“…yeah, she just turned up at my door, not said a thing and she’s fucking black and blue, Tony.” She put the receiver to her shoulder. “What?”

“Who was it, Bug?” Lip was asking. “Your brothers? Guys from school? Guys from a club?” You shook your head no on each of those. “Your dad?” You stilled, breathing becoming shallow. “Motherfucker… I’m gonna fucking kill him!” Lip clenched his teeth. He turned to Fiona.

“Her dad.” He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger then put his other forefinger through. Fiona’s face immediately set into anger and she put the phone back to her ear.

“Tony, you gotta go now…. Assault, yeah… physical… and sexual… if you don’t, I think Lip will and he can’t go to juvie… yeah, 117th, we’ve got her, just get him.” She clicked the phone off. “Tony’s on his way to find her dad-“

“I’ll go with him.” Lip interrupted, sitting up away from you slightly.

“Lip, I’m not having you in juvie. None of my kids have gone to prison and you’re not being the first. Plus… you’re the only person she’ll willingly let touch her, she wouldn’t even let Ian and we all know he’s not exactly a threat.” Fiona sighed. “You gotta stay here.”

“No, I gotta go and kill the bastard-“ As Lip spoke he moved himself from behind you towards Fiona. There was a rush of cool air as you felt his body heat leave you, and it was all just too much. You suddenly felt everything at once, and started sobbing. The room stopped. It was the most noise you had made since you turned up.

“She needs you here, Lip.” Fiona stated. Lip nodded mutely and sat back down. He put his arms around you, his chest once again pressed to your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Shhhh, it’s ok, Bug. Everything is going to be ok. I’m here, you’re safe.” He soothed. You were shivering violently as the warmth was finally penetrating your skin. “Fi, can you go grab some clothes from my room?”

“One step ahead of ya.” Fiona pointed to the clothes on the couch. Lip nodded his thanks, and held out his hand to Veronica. She handed him a damp washcloth.

“Veronica and I are gonna clean you up, if that’s ok? Then we can get you dressed and warm. You’re staying here for now, you’re not going home.” You nodded your consent and Lip slowly started rubbing the washcloth over your skin. “Can we get her in the bath?” Lip asked Veronica “Would that be better?”

“I barely got her in the house.” Ian chimed in “but you’re welcome to try and get her upstairs.”

“A bath would be better…” Veronica thought aloud “is there hot water?” She looked to Ian and he nodded. “Go run a bath, again, warm not hot.” Ian nodded and headed towards the bathroom.

“We can get her in the bath and clean this blood and… other stuff off while she warms up, see what the situation is, patch her up.” He didn’t want to think about what had happened, if he did he was going to prison, so he focused on helping you instead. After a few minutes, you had calmed to the point of sniffling and Ian came downstairs “Bath’s ready.” Lip nodded

“You ready?” He asked you. “Can you walk or shall I pick you up?” You turned towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Ok, I’ll take you.” He kissed your temple softly, then slid an arm under your knees.

Lip didn’t bother undressing you, not that he could have with the blood sticking to your tank, he just lowered you into the water. He pulled his own shirt off so as not to get it wet, and grabbed the plastic cup from the windowsill. He stayed quiet as he poured cupfuls of water over your shoulders, occasionally pulling at your shirt to loosen the fabric from your skin. The once clear water was a pale pink by the time Lip put the cup down. “Can I take your shirt off?” He asked. You hesitated. “I’m just gonna clean you up, check out your injuries.” You nodded, closing your eyes. He carefully lifted your shirt, pulling the back up over your head and then down your arms. He didn’t react to the gash across your back, or boot print on your kidney, he just picked up a washcloth and ran it gently over your skin.

“Can I wash the blood out of your hair?” He asked quietly. You nodded again, allowing Lip to wet and shampoo your hair, his strong fingers gently working the blood from your scalp. He tipped your head back to rinse the suds, the bath water tingeing a deeper shade of pink. Once your hair had been rinsed Lip stood up “I’ll just be a sec, ok?” He said gently “V, can you keep an eye?” Veronica nodded and headed into the bathroom, looking at the various injuries that he littering your torso. Lip headed downstairs and found Fiona in the kitchen, nursing a coffee.

“You want one?” She asked, holding up the pot “‘s gonna be a long night.” Lip shook his head and went over to hug her tightly. “Lip, you’re too strong to be crushing me like this!” She scolded, before she felt the damp spots on her shoulder. “Oh. Oh Lip…” Fiona hugged her little brother back, trying to remember the last time Lip had cried like that. She held him tightly for a few moments, one hand on his head and the other rubbing his back, while he cried over his best friend.

After a few minutes Lip pulled away, wiping his nose. “Sorry, I just…”

“You don’t need to apologise, Lip. We all have our moments.” Fiona said gently.

“I should, um… I should get back upstairs.” Fiona nodded and shooed him away, shoving the clothes at him. When Lip got back upstairs he found Veronica putting the last few stitches in your back, and grabbed a towel.

“Come on, let’s get you out.” He said gently, lifting you out of the water and on to the towel. He wrapped you up like you were as little as Liam. “You’re starting to warm up, Bug. Your lips aren’t blue anymore…” You noticed his eyes were rimmed red. “V, can you or someone go into my room, second drawer of the dresser at the back there’s a grey shirt. Can you grab it for me?” Veronica went and retrieved the item while Lip carefully dried the water off your skin.

“What so special about this shirt?” She asked

“Softest one I own.” He said, pulling it over your head. He continued to dress you in his clothes, before taking you to his room. Fiona had already left a brush and hairdryer on the bed, figuring Lip would need them. He started brushing your hair gently, blotting the water with a towel, before he turned the dryer on to a low setting. As he dried your hair you looked at the clock on his bedside table, telling you it was gone midnight. You had no idea what time you had left your own house, and immediately felt guilty about bothering the Gallaghers with your family problems. You should have just stayed, not made a fuss, gone to bed, hidden everything under your clothes at school tomorrow and pretended you fell if anyone asked. You and Lip were fighting, you just wanted him to try harder at school, get out of the shitty neighbourhood you both called home, but it had ended in you both screaming at each other, and you telling him to go fuck himself. The hairdryer switched off and Lip followed your eyes to the clock.

“Hey, Bug, no.” He crouched down in front of you. “I don’t care that it’s late, I don’t care that we had a fight. I care that you’re ok, I care that you came to me and you trusted me. Now, Fiona will be next door, you can sleep in here and I’m gonna take the couch.”

“Stay.” It was the first thing you had said all night, coming out quiet and raspy.

“O-ok. I can stay if you’re sure that’s what you want.” You nodded. “I just gotta grab some stuff from downstairs, then I’ll be back.”

Fiona was still drinking her coffee when Lip reentered the kitchen.

“How’s she doing?” Fiona asked. Lip leaned against the counter and lit a cigarette. He took a drag before handing it to Fiona.

“Well, she spoke, which is good. I told her I was sleeping on the couch and she asked me to stay, so I guess that’s what I’m doing. V had to sew up a cut across her back, she has a fucking boot print on one side, the other isn't even skin, it’s just a bruise, her shithead dad fucking raped her and she nearly killed herself getting here, so um… I’m just hoping she’s still in the house tomorrow morning.” Fiona squeezed his shoulder then handed back the cigarette.

“Take some tea up for her, it’ll help her warm up. It’s good you’re staying with her, cuz you gotta keep an eye on hypothermic afterdrop.”

“Hypothermic what?”

“I don’t know. V said something about core temperature dropping because of cold blood? Just… make sure she stays warm and breathing and has a heartbeat, and Lip?”

“Yeah?” He looked round at his big sister.

“Don’t sleep with her.” Lip opened his mouth to argue. “I know you won’t, but I’m just… reminding you, I guess. She might tell you she wants to, but she’s really vulnerable right now. Don’t take advantage of that.”

“I won’t.” Lip said quietly. “I couldn’t do that to her…” Fiona gave him a small smile and his shoulder another squeeze.

“Get some sleep. I’ll call school in the morning, tell them you’re sick.” Lip nodded tiredly and pulled out a mug, making a fresh cup of tea for you.

“Hey, Fi?” He called as she started to leave the kitchen.

“W’sup?” Fiona turned to look at him

“Thank you. For… everything.” Fiona went back over to Lip and kissed his cheek.

“I wasn’t gonna let her freeze.” She got to the door before calling out to him “Make sure you turn the lights off.”

“Will do.” Lip finished making your tea and took it upstairs, turning off lights and appliances as he went. You were sat against the headboard and he handed you the mug.

“It’s chamomile, it’ll help, promise.” You nodded, sipping at it as Lip put on sweats and a tshirt. He got into the bed next to you, pulling the comforter over you both and stroking your hair as you finished your tea. He took the mug from you and put it aside before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re safe now. Night, Bug.”

#shameless #lip gallagher #lip gallagher x reader #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher angst #whump #shameless x reader #lip Gallagher is a sweetheart #lip gallagher fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

aemondsbabe · 6 months ago

Text

From Ashes, Fire | Claimant Pt 3

summary: dragons take what they want, you and your brother are no different. but what will be left to burn in the name of happiness?

pairing: dark!aemond x sister!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, dark aemond, angst, angst but happy ending, very cersei/jaime coded moment that's all i'll say, major character death, noncanonical death, very brief descriptions of injury, blood, i promise it's nothing graphic, reader turns to the dark side lol, piv sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), minor breeding kink, possessive aemond, possessive reader, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 8.3k oops

a/n: this is it, the grand finale! i had so much fun with this series and i hope y'all enjoy the last bit!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🔪read part 1 and part 2 here!

❤️my masterlist

🦋find me on ao3!

🌟add yourself to my taglist!

"Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty."

“Jaehaera, please,” Helaena’s voice is gentle and melodic even as she scolds her daughter, pointing at one of the straw-stuffed dolls in her tiny hands, “You must share with your brother; how about you let him play with the knight, hm?”

One of Maelor’s little fists wraps tightly around your pointer finger as you chuckle at the displeased frown on the toddler’s face when she shoves the doll in Jaehaerys’s direction, though her lips quickly lift into a smile at her mother’s praise.

“Good, that’s very sweet of you,” your sister smiles, watching her eldest two children play, sitting cross-legged beside them on the plush blanket she’d had spread out on the grass.

A cool breeze blows through the grassy field while you idly look around at the many red tents and campfires, observing the groups of people gathered around – knights sat at one of the many wooden tables, a few servants peel vegetables brought from the Keep, and various nobles, lady’s maids, and other court patrons shuffle about.

Taking a deep breath, you turn your face toward the sun, cooler now as day turns to evening, and savor the first moment of peace you’ve had in nearly a week. The days since your marriage to Jace have been… eventful, to say the least, with each new duty feeling like another stab to your already fragile heart. Respite hadn’t even found you in the night, each one spent fending off your new husband’s advances with excuses of your menstrual flux having come early, headaches, and various other ailments. He was getting anxious, you could tell – each night he pushed back a little more, arguing the importance of consummating the marriage, reminding you of the vows you had both uttered in the Sept.

But how can a vow mean much if the Gods know it was only ever a lie?

You had felt your mother’s eyes on you at every turn, watching you and your brother like a hawk. Though as the days progressed her fiery stare cooled to one of guilt – a penance for subjecting you to the same fate that had befallen her. You suspected that was why she and Rhaenyra had organized this little trip; a celebratory hunt they’d called it, to commemorate the rift between your two families finally being healed.

“Dear, dear wife,” your oldest brother slurs, goblet clutched in one hand as he staggers toward you and Helaena, groaning when he flops down on the bench next to you. “Oh, you look… ravishing,” your lips quirk up into a smirk as he drapes an arm around your shoulders, giggling and making faces at Maelor.

“What did I tell you,” your sister says through a huff of laughter, violet eyes finding yours, “They ignore you until they’re drunk.”

If only that were the case, you think as you force yourself to laugh in time with her.

“That is quite rude,” Aegon chastises, brows furrowed in offense while he takes a messy swig of wine, a few red drops run down his chin. “Do you see how she treats me?” He pouts, leaning closer to you with a wry grin, “The deed is done though, yes? Bastard knew where to put it?”

“Aegon!” Helaena hisses, swatting at his knee.

The two fall into a playful round of bickering, thankfully leaving you out of it. With a sigh, you let your gaze wander again, tumbling thoughts muffling your siblings voices.

“It’s not as hard as it looks, here,” Daemon’s voice catches your attention and you watch as he points a knife at the belly of a deer he and Lucerys had hunted earlier in the day, showing the boy where to cut, “Get your knife in there – good, like that, and now just cut downwards, one clean movement…” You glance away as blood spills from the beast’s abdomen, staining the grass below it.

Looking over the treeline, you try to ignore the sick feeling building in the pit of your stomach, though you know it won’t be settled until Aemond’s back at camp. Biting at your lip, you let out an irritated huff when you can’t make out any movement in the distance, no sign of your brother or Ser Criston, even your husband.

You’d only spoken to Aemond once since your marriage – a hushed conversation hidden away in an alcove when the two of you had a spare moment alone after supper. He’d held you while you’d cried against the crook of his neck, shushing you and running a soothing hand up and down your back. You remember the way his jaw felt, teeth clenched as he rested it atop your head, letting you tuck yourself into him while he vibrated with barely contained rage.

“I can’t do this, I can’t,” you lamented, peering up at him with a mournful sob as your fingers clung to the dark jacket he wore, “They’re planning on going back to Dragonstone! Dragonstone, Aem!”

“Shh, little one,” his hands had cupped your cheeks, wiped away your tears with calloused thumbs, “I’m not letting them take you.”

His words had held such conviction, you’d wanted nothing more than to believe him, yet you’d shaken your head anyway. “I don’t think there’s any stopping them, this time,” your breath had hitched with each word, “You heard Rhaenyra, they’re leaving as soon as we’re back from the hunt and she would never agree to leave Jacaerys here, never.”

You had known you were spiraling, head spinning as you’d looked up at him, and yet the words tumbled out anyway. “I hate him, I wish he’d just… just disappear!” It was a childish little jab and yet, your heart had leapt into your throat the moment you’d said it. You were expecting to feel the clawing ache of guilt gnaw at your stomach, however, a weightlessness followed. You’d never felt lighter than in that moment – tucked away in the shadows, a secret you’d harbored since childhood finally set free.

Aemond had stayed quiet, but you saw the way his violet eye sparkled, the gears turning in his head.

Your words had echoed in his head, calling out to him like a siren’s song – the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Finally convinced that the three men are truly not just going to materialize at the edge of camp, your gaze shifts to where your mother and Rhaenyra sit, huddled together beside one of the many firepits. Bouncing little Maelor on your lap, you’re vaguely aware of Aegon and Helaena idly chatting beside you, something to do with how your brother believes some such thing about the Small Council is a waste of time – a frequent complaint of his since taking the throne.

You’re hardly listening though, head cocked to the side while you watch the two women laughing and animatedly conversing; they remind you of the young girls at court – youthful and carefree, too wrapped up in one another to notice much around them.

That’s why she let them go together, that shadowy voice in the back of your head hisses, Too distracted to know better. You clench your jaw, only halfway aware of the stinging pain at your cuticle as you dig a nail into it.

“What say you to accompanying me on a hunt, nephew?” Aemond had asked earlier in the afternoon, voice low as he slunk over to where you, Jace, and your mothers had been sitting at one of the wooden tables, picking through a light lunch the cooks at the Keep had prepared.

“Aemond,” Alicent had sighed wearily, leaning heavily on her elbows while Rhaenyra regarded your brother with a cool indifference – evidently unaware of your family’s tensions.

“What? I merely wish to bond with my dearest sister’s new husband.”

“Uncle,” Jace had finally spoken up, pointedly grasping one of your hands that had sat on the table, “As much as I would love to accompany you, don’t you think it a bit unwise for only the two of us to go? If I remember correctly from my youth, your father used to take a whole host of men into the woods with him…”

“Do you not think yourself man enough to take on a measly buck, nephew?”

“Aemond!”

“Don’t fret, mother. ‘Twas only a joke, a tasteless one, I admit,” your hackles had raised at that, at how quickly he had stood down, so wholly unlike your brother, “Besides, I’ve taken the liberty of asking Ser Criston to accompany us as well.”

It was then, at the mention of the knight, that Rhaenyra had leaned closer to Alicent, the two of them laughing softly and sharing knowing glances while your half-sister whispered into her ear.

“Surely the three of us are more than capable of subduing a deer or two, don’t you think?”

Jace had balked at that, sighing heavily as his grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly.

“I think it sounds like a wonderful idea,” you had coached your lips into a tight smile when you interjected, “Doesn’t that sound like a lovely idea, mother?”

“Hm?” She had blinked, finally parting from Rhaenyra, the ghost of a smile still on her lips.

“For Ser Criston to accompany Jace and Aemond, to go hunting with them.”

“Well, I –”

“Surely that would be safest, yes?” You pushed, glancing at Jace before locking eyes with Aemond, “A knight with them, a Kingsguard no less.”

“I think it sounds like a fine idea,” Rhaenyra had smiled, squeezing one of your mother’s hands, “They should take the time to bond, no? Savor it while we’re together these last few days.”

“Yes… yes, a fine idea,” she had immediately agreed, always swaying to your half-sister.

“Wonderful,” your brother murmured, a slow smile spreading across his lips as he clasped his arms behind his back, “I’ll have Ser Criston ready the horses.” With that, he had stalked away, giving you one final glance.

“You truly think this a good idea?” Your husband had questioned, turning to you while your mothers got lost in yet another hushed conversation.

“Of course!” You had nodded, clasping one of his hands in both of yours, “Aemond is… odd with his affections. This is just his way of attempting to rectify things, I’m sure of it.”

“I suppose…,” he had sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

“It’ll be fine,” you had urged, going so far as to lean over and press a kiss against his cheek, one of the scant few times you had initiated any affections.

Those words had echoed in your head while you watched the three men sheath their swords and load various bows and arrows onto their horses, the midday sun suddenly feeling much too warm against your skin.

It’ll be fine, you had reminded yourself for the millionth time when they set off, horses galloping along a narrow path that led into the Kingswood, He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

“Oh, shit,” Aegon whispers beside you, nearly dropping his goblet.

You quickly follow his eyeline, looking to where he stares at one of the small paths that lead into the camp – the sight wrenching a hitched gasp from your throat.

A hush seems to fall over the entirety of the camp, only for the quickest of seconds, before chaos erupts. Aemond stands before one of the horses, a grey one you recognize as Jace’s, steadying it while Criston pulls your husband from the saddle, smearing the side of the animal with thick streaks of red.

Daemon quickly runs over to assist while you hastily hand Maelor back to Helaena, hardly looking in her direction as you do.

“Jace? Jacaerys?!” Rhaenyra calls, picking up her skirts as she sprints over, violet eyes wide with terror, “What is it? What’s happened?”

Every noise sounds muffled when you make your way over to the huddle of commotion, Alicent following closely behind. A strange detached sensation fills you while you watch Criston and Daemon lay Jace down on a nearby bench, blood immediately soaking into the silk fabric of the pillows.

It feels as if everything is happening both too quickly and too slowly all at once – a few of the other knights rush forward, hastily pulling his tunic out of the way before pressing stark white medical linens to the gaping cut on his side. They bark orders over his body, yelling for the servants to bring water and more linens.

You feel your mother and Helaena grabbing at your arms and it’s only then you realize you’re shaking, swaying in place like a leaf on a branch; you know they’re talking to you but their words are dulled by the rushing of blood in your ears.

Somewhere in your periphery, you register the sound of Daemon’s voice, thick with desperation as he shouts question after question at Criston, “What happened? When? How? How long ago? How could you, you were supposed to protect him?!” They blend together, echoing through the haze in a roaring hum.

Distantly, you register the feel of another warm body pressing into the small pack you find yourself a part of. Helaena shushes someone next to you and your gaze tears itself away from the pools of crimson gathering on the grass just long enough to realize that it’s Luke. Your heart breaks at that, a sharp pang in your chest at the fact that the poor boy is distressed enough to seek comfort from your family, of all places.

“No! No, no, no!” Rhaenyra’s wails slice through the fog clouding your mind in such an exacting manner that your knees buckle, “Jace, Jace, look at me, please? Sweetling, please look at me!” She sobs, leaning over her son, one hand cradling his cheek.

Unseeing brown eyes stare, unblinking, up at the hazy orange sky while yours focus solely on a single, paralyzing flash of violet.

He’s not letting them take me, it’ll be fine.

The Sept is eerily quiet, normal for this time of night but unsettling all the same; the occasional fizzling noises of the dozens of flickering candles is the only way you’re able to discern that time hasn’t simply halted. Pale moonlight shines in through the windows, bathing the floor in a star-shaped pool of light and making the whites of the painted eyes resting atop Jace’s face glow like beacons.

You had picked out the stones and painted the eyes on them yourself, taking them from a spot in the gardens you knew he had favored when you were children and spent hours sourcing the pigments to make just the right shade of brown – one that reminded you of the rich chocolates that had been imported from Essos for your betrothal feast.

“A wife’s duty,” your mother had said.

Rhaenyra had glared at you the whole time; silently, you wondered if she somehow knew it wasn’t duty that drove you – only atonement.

Atonement, your mind echoes as you sit upon the cool stone steps beneath the Seven-Pointed Star, leaning your head against the bannister as you force yourself to look at his body, still atop black silks.

Must one feel guilt to atone? Must I atone for not feeling it? When will it end?

Those questions had plagued you in the days since Jace died, bled out like a hunter’s boon in the field by the Kingswood. They’d settled over you like a fever, an ever-present haunting ache, made only worse by the soft, sinful voice in the back of your head that whispered the truth – that you didn’t care, that you don’t even now.

You hadn’t cared, even as blood seeped from the gash at his side, even as you forced yourself to kneel by his still warm body and press gentle kisses to his forehead – the performance of a good wife.

You hadn’t cared in the carriage ride back to the Keep, letting your mother and your sister hold you while you cried – I’m sad, I’m sad, I’m crying because I’m sad, I’m crying because I should be sad.

And you hadn’t cared when Aemond had come to you in the dead of night, had slipped into your chambers – your chambers – through one of the many hidden passageways in the old castle.

“How?” You had asked, tracing patterns onto the pale skin of his bare chest while the two of you laid tangled in your silk sheets.

“A boar,” he answered plainly, speaking through a sigh while running his fingers over the thigh you had draped across his hips, “Just as I’ve told you the last four times you’ve asked.”

“Aemond,” you sighed in that same tired tone your mother so often used; your eyes had narrowed when you saw the corner of his lips just barely twitch up into a smile; were it any other time, he would’ve made a cheeky comment about the similarity.

“I’ve told you,” his grip tightened ever so slightly on your thigh and his other hand had grasped at your chin, guiding your eyes to his, “We had been tracking a buck, had gotten close and dismounted our horses, and had, I assume, stumbled into the beast’s territory and it charged at us.”

“Brother,” you had whispered, shaking your head and cupping his cheek, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie?”

He had stayed silent for a long while at that, jaw clenched while he stared at some point off in the distance, lips drawn into a tight line. Eventually, you had laid your head down, resting your cheek on his shoulder while you tried to accept that you wouldn’t be getting the truth that night, if ever.

It was only then that he had spoken.

“Please, let me protect you.”

“Protect me?” You had looked up, brows furrowed as you studied his face, “From what?”

“From the law –”

“Our brother is king, if he says it was not murder, if he says it was an accident, which he already has done, then no one will question his –”

“Fine, then,” he had snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “From the damn Gods! I…” He trailed off, sighing heavily while he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“... the Gods?”

He’d finally looked at you again and your heart had pinched meanly in your chest when you saw tears gathering in his violet eye, “They will judge me harshly for what I’ve done, whenever the time comes, but… I will not subject you to the same fate.”

You had scoffed at that, had rolled your eyes when he looked away shamefully and had climbed atop him then, straddled his hips and turned his face toward yours, “I don’t give a shit about the Gods.”

“What?”

“I don’t,” you repeated, leaning down until your forehead touched his, “If they were good Gods, if they cared, they would not have subjected me to that sham of a marriage in the first place. They would’ve guided our mother rightly, but they didn’t.”

“Sister, I –”

“And I hate that our nephew paid for that, Aemond, I truly do, but I am the one who told you to do it.”

He had shaken his head while a mournful peal of laughter clawed its way out of his throat, “You didn’t tell me to do any–”

“Perhaps not directly,” you interjected, smiling sadly while you cupped both of his cheeks in your hands, running a thumb over the scar beneath his eye, “But I did. I could’ve told you not to, could’ve said I didn’t mean it, could’ve cautioned our mother against letting him go with you, but… I didn’t.”

“No… no, I suppose you didn’t,” he sighed, swallowing thickly as he tried in vain to blink away tears.

“I didn’t,” you echoed, your words hushed and cooed, like a mother soothing an infant, “I know what you’re capable of, I knew it then, and I didn’t.”

He nodded, his breath stuttered in his throat as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

“Because I knew you’d protect me… and you did.”

“I did,” he mumbled, nodding up at you as his face twisted and a small sob bubbled from his lips, “I did, I did it. I did it, I did. For you, for us.”

“I know,” you murmured sweetly, stroking a hand over his long hair while you pressed sweet kisses against his forehead. You held him as he cried, huddled together in the dark of your chambers

And you hadn’t cared when you realized you were smiling.

“The hour is quite late, little one,” the suddenness of his voice makes you jump, though you settle quickly.

“So it is,” you smile and look over your shoulder, tilting your head up while he walks down the steps to join you, “The hour of ghosts, yes? Fitting.”

He huffs as he sits beside you before regarding you with a slight smirk, “I suppose it is,” he murmurs, only sparing the red and black draped body on the altar a passing glance.

“Why are you here?”

“I was looking for you… Hel said you would probably be here.”

“Mm,” you nod, idly running a finger over the pattern on your skirts, finding a morbid sort of beauty in the way the rich black silks glimmered in the candlelight.

“Why are you here?” Aemond asks, eye following the line of your profile.

“Praying.”

Without looking, you can practically feel him rolling his eye beside you, huffing a little breathy laugh again, “Have you forgotten that I can tell when you lie, sweet sister?”

Hearing your own words from the night before parroted back to you pulls a laugh from you as well, though you wince as your giggle echoes throughout the Sept. “It’s funny,” you sigh, glancing about the cavernous space before finally looking at him, “This is the only place where no one wants to be.”

He hums next to you and nods his head, lets the two of you sit in silence for a moment before you continue.

“I don’t have to pretend when I’m here.”

“Pretend?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you nod and lean into his touch when he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “That I’m sad… that I feel anything, really,” you sigh, breathing the words more so than saying them, “All Rhaenyra does is cry, Daemon is ready to strangle anything that moves, Lucerys is despondent to the point of being mute. Even our own mother cries for him and I cannot muster a single tear that isn’t a farce.”

Your eyes trail back over to Jace and you regard him with a mournful stare, staying silent for a long moment as you try to will yourself to feel sad, to feel angry, to feel guilty… yet nothing comes.

“Everyone grieves differently,” Aemond mumbles beside you, though his words only serve to make you more bitter, “Perhaps, in time –”

“In time nothing will happen,” you snap, grimacing at the harshness in your voice, “I’m not sad and I am… I’m tired of pretending I am.” You murmur, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Aemond is quiet for a long while, though you can feel the energy radiating off of him in waves – you’ve always been able to tell when he has a lot on his mind. You’re content to simply let him think, taking his silence as a cue that it’s your turn to let him sort through things.

“You… are happy, though? Yes?” He finally asks after several long minutes, going strangely rigid next to you as if he’s afraid of your answer, “I know you say you aren’t sad but…”

“Aemond,” you sigh, sitting up and staring at him as a slow, creeping smile spreads across your face, “I have never been happier.”

“Truly?”

“Yes!” You quickly shift yourself on the stairs, turning yourself more toward him and placing a gentle hand on top of his thigh, “Big brother, you saved me.”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him get a word in edgewise before the emotions you’ve been bottling up over the last few days finally spill over and you practically throw yourself into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Brother, I've been tethered to him since I was eight and you have freed me from that,” you say softly, voice hardly carrying in the air. Slowly, carefully you pull his eyepatch off, the only one ever allowed to do so; there is a sadness in your smile when you gently trail your fingers over the crease of his scar, “We both lost something that night and have suffered for it ever since.”

Without another word, you press your lips to his and savor the groan your kiss pulls from him. His hands grab at your hips in the same instance yours card through his hair while your lips move together in a practiced rhythm.

Impatient, one of your hands travels down his chest and stomach, though you hardly have time to pull at the hem of his dark tunic before he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

“Aemond,” you huff, fighting against his grip.

“Surely you don’t mean to defile this place in such a way,” he murmurs, violet eye sparkling as if he were challenging you, even as he glances over your shoulder, “What would your dear husband think?

You grin at the lecherous smirk on his lips, heart pounding in your chest as a familiar ache settles at the apex of your thighs. You give one final glance over your shoulder before turning back to him with a dismissive shrug. “Husband in name only,” you remind him, yanking your hand out of his grasp and trailing your fingers over the growing bulge beneath his trousers, “I have only ever been devoted to you.”

A rough growl leaves his lips and he clenches his jaw, narrowing his eye. “We will burn for this, sweet sister,” he huffs, pale cheeks flushing while he stares up at you, one hand still settled on your hip as the other comes up to cup your jaw.

“The Seven can have their say,” your cunt clenches at the way he looks at you – surprise, lust, even reverence giving such an intensity to his gaze that it nearly knocks the wind from your lungs, “The Old Valyrian Gods can as well, I don’t care. Aemond, I don’t.”

Your hand finally, blessedly, pulls free the ties at the top of his trousers and you quickly find his length. The sharp grunt that’s wrenched from his throat when your hand wraps around it echoes through the Sept, each iteration of it making the fire in your belly burn brighter and brighter.

He doesn’t attempt to stop you when you plunge a hand beneath the fabric of your black skirts and hastily tug your smallclothes out of the way, he merely studies you in awe, as if watching a newly hatched dragon spread its wings for the first time. His gaze makes you shiver, though you dare not look away.

“What do you care about, little one?” He murmurs suddenly, unable to help himself from glancing between your bodies, licking his lips while he watches you use your fingers to prepare yourself as you rub your own slick through your folds.

“You,” you whisper, shuddering at the way you both gasp at the same time when you rut against his already throbbing length, “You are the only god I’ve ever worshiped, big brother.”

A loud groan bursts free of his lips at that and the hunger in his eye nearly catches you alight, and yet he still grabs at your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking onto his length – so out of his element, wholly unused to being taken in such a way. “Come, let us go to my chambers,” he tries, breathing your name against your neck as he leans up, “Where I can take you properly, hm? No risk of anyone interrupting…”

Undeterred, you simply shake your head and lean forward, pressing your lips against his in an eager, near feral kiss. It’s mostly teeth and tongues and thankfully, it’s enough to shock him into loosening his grip, just enough for you to take what you want. You bite at his bottom lip when you sink down onto his length, hard enough to taste iron, making him growl into the kiss, the sound of it deepening to a low groan at the feel of your tight cunt around him.

The feel of his cock stretching you open somehow only gets better each time and leaves you gasping in his lap, your hands grabbing at his shoulders for leverage while you begin grinding yourself against him, impatient and ravenous. “Ohh, f-fuck,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut while your walls flutter around him.

Aemond’s chest heaves under your hands while he stares up at you, lips parted ever so slightly as breathy groans spill, unbidden, from them. Opening your eyes, your gaze is immediately drawn to a little smear of red beside his mouth and you lean forward – licking his pale skin clean without a second thought.

“Little minx,” he smirks, meanly grabbing at your hips again and bucking up into you. He huffs a soft laugh at the sharp moan that bursts from you, sounding louder still in the large open space of the Sept; there’s a dangerous, challenging gleam in his eye that makes you shiver. “Go on, then,” he rasps, trailing a hand up from your hip to cup the underside of your breast, his touch warm even through the bodice of your gown, “Worship your god.”

A soft, stuttered moan wrenches itself from your lips at that and you quickly obey, staking your claim over him. As you find your rhythm, rutting wildly in his lap, the only sounds echoing off the walls are that of panted breaths and the slick, wet noises from where the two of you connect. “You’re mine,” you breathe, leaning forward to bite at his throat, determined to mark him in as many ways as possible, “Y-You’ve always been mine, Aemond.”

He nods his head, hands scrambling at the ties on your bodice, determined to free your breasts. “I’m yours?” He taunts, sighing victoriously when he finally manages to practically rip the top of your gown open; his tongue darts out, wetting his lips at the sight of them and he allows himself a few seconds to appreciate the way they bounce so enticingly with each of your determined movements, “Show me, then… show me who I belong to, sweet sister.”

Something snaps inside you then, breaking and clicking perfectly into place all in the same breath; the feeble thing that was holding the dam inside of you shut disappears. Whatever greedy darkness Aemond has always harbored within himself has been slowly seeping into you since the night of your betrothal feast and now, it seems, it has finally settled into your bones as well. It’s as if he can sense it in the same instance you do and gives a subtle nod of his head, commanding you to give in.

With renewed vigor, you grind against him harshly, pressing your hips as far down onto him as you can manage until you can feel his cock pressing against the entrance to your womb. The thought of him there, of the possibility of his seed catching, of the possibility that it may already have, spurs you on further.

“I would kill for you, too,” you say lowly through clenched teeth, licking up the side of his neck until you can whisper into his ear, “I’ll do anything to have you, my love, I don’t care what it is.”

A low groan reverberates from within his chest, both of you all but snarling as you move together; his hips rut up against yours, unable to hold still any longer, and he bites a path down your neck until he reaches the softness of your breasts. You gasp as he teases at one nipple, flicking at it with the tip of his tongue while his fingers toy with the other one, only to cut yourself off with a loud moan when his lips seal around it.

“I would burn this city to the fucking ground if that’s what… what it took, brother,” the words tumble from your lips when you card your fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head and holding him against your chest. Your head tilts down, heart pounding in your chest while you watch him savor the feel of your warm flesh in his mouth; his violet eye snaps up and his gaze bores into yours, making your cunt clutch greedily at his length.

Feeling the knot building quickly in your belly, aided by the way your sensitive pearl brushes against the small patch of hair at the base of Aemond’s cock, you only grow more needy – craving confirmation that he is yours, that no one will be able to take him from you again. Your breath catches in your throat when you recall a conversation the two of you had had a few nights ago, the night of Jace’s death.

The two of you had been cuddled in your bed together, panting in sweat-damp sheets, when he had cupped your cheek and turned your face to his.

“What is it?” You asked, familiar with the faraway look in his eye – God’s knew where he could’ve been in that moment.

“Marry me.”

His whispered demand had knocked the air from your lungs then, the whole world may as well have come to a grinding halt on its axis. “Aemond, we must wait, you know this. I hate it as much as you do but –”

“We need to wait for a Westerosi wedding, yes,” he murmured, leaning over you and shushing you with a soft kiss, “Too soon and it looks suspicious.”

“But –”

“But… a wedding in the tradition of our house need not wait, little one,” the determination in his eye had shocked you then, had warmed you from the inside out, “Our sister and her cunt of a husband hardly waited until Laena and Laenor were cold before they married… we could do the same.”

You had stayed quiet after that, too much death and change and uncertainty clouding your mind to give him an answer, and yet you knew he was right. Rhaenyra and Daemon had married in secret, so soon after Laenor’s sudden passing that it had always seemed a bit odd to you. Yet, no one ever questioned it; your own father had accepted it without so much as a blink, writing the marriage into law with no fuss. Aegon would do the same for you, you felt certain.

Nothing was stopping you, nothing that mattered, anyway.

That thought fuels you now as you rock on Aemond’s lap, both of you barreling toward your eventual ends. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging him away from your breast despite his growl of displeasure. Just as he had with you, you cup his cheeks, focusing his attention on you.

“Marry me.”

The rhythm of his hips hitches at your words and he fucks up into you harshly, moving you more desperately against him as another loud, guttural moan echoes through the chamber.

“Tonight,” you continue, brows furrowing as you stare at him, greedily drinking him in, “I cannot wait any longer, brother, tonight, please…”

A vicious, conquering smirk grows on his lips, white teeth gleaming in the low candlelight like a snarling dog. “You wish to be mine, is that it?” He teases, reaching between your two writhing bodies to rub hungrily at your pearl, savoring the pretty breathy moans he earns.

You’re shaking your head before he can even finish speaking as an unrelenting, all consuming possessive ache starts spreading out from your heart, flowing through your blood vessels like fire. “I don’t wish it,” you pant, forehead resting against his while the wildfire burning in your belly threatens to burn you whole, “I told you, I would kill for you and… and, fuck, I swear it. A-Aemond, no one will have you ever again, never, none except me…”

Your words descend into a barely intelligible murmur as you finally let go, pushed suddenly over the edge at the thought of being so tightly bound together that no one would be able to tear the two of you apart again. Your brother growls again at the feel of your cunt pulsing around him, the movements spurring him toward his own end.

He grabs at you when he follows you into oblivion, holding you against him as if you’d disappear otherwise. The feel of his spend spilling into you, filling you, nearly sends you over the edge again and you cling to him just as harshly, holding him while he trembles beneath you.

“You are a vicious little thing,” he says softly after some minutes, holding you against his chest while the two of you catch your breaths.

“I learned from the best.”

He only sighs at that but you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling. “I would do it again for you,” he mumbles, eye fixed on Jace, “I would do it a thousand times over.”

He speaks in a reverent whisper, promises of death and destruction as sweet as a prayer on his lips.

Aemond’s hand is warm in yours as he leads you through the winding corridors below the Red Keep, the flickering light from the torches lining the walls making the various statues and reliefs dance in your periphery.

“I’ve always hated that he’s down here, stowed away,” he murmurs, yet his voice still carries some among the stone hallways.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement, glancing into each shadowy alcove you come across while you try to ignore the wild beating in your chest – the way your heart clenches at the thought of finally being so close to what you’ve always wanted. “Yes, he should be out in the sun, somewhere he can be celebrated.”

The old cellars under the Keep have always seemed so haunting to you, so cold and empty. The thought of the walls down here being lined with the ashen remains of generations upon generations of your ancestors had never failed to send a shiver down your spine. Yet, they unfold before you now like paradise; even the still, musty air begins to smell as sweet as honeyed wine.

For the briefest of seconds, guilt joins you – walks alongside you, invisible like the Stranger. A stuttered heartbeat, that’s all and then it’s gone, at the thought that Jace would join them tomorrow, still warm from Vermax’s fire.

How ironic, you think, glancing up at your brother and admiring the way the light gleams on his sapphire eye, That a place that holds so much death would be where our lives finally begin.

“I don’t want to wait any longer,” you’d said again, retying your bodice while Aemond tucked himself back into his trousers and searched for his eyepatch.

“Nor do I,” he agreed, stuffing the small scrap of fabric into a pocket – the streets of King’s Landing would be deserted enough at this time of night that he could get away without wearing it. “Tensions are bound to rise after tomorrow, after everything is said and done; I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”

You had nodded and followed him out of the Sept, through one of the many old, forgotten tunnels that only a scant few knew existed, the list of which definitely didn’t include the guards stationed at the front of the building who had escorted your carriage earlier that evening.

While he had helped you onto the back of his horse, the two of you shared a knowing look, each of you already thinking the same thing.

Turning down one final corridor, your heart thuds in your chest as you’re finally met with Balerion’s petrifying gaze and, just like every other time you’d been in his presence, a little huff of reverence leaves you. Your eyes dance over the rows of his razor sharp teeth, gleaming in the glow of dozens of candles, and you can’t help but imagine the horrors those jaws have inflicted, the pain they wrought while subduing the continent – all in your family’s name.

“Targaryens have always taken what we’ve wanted,” Aemond murmurs beside you, staring up at the gargantuan skull with just as much respect as you are, “Tamed our desires in fields of fire.”

“And rivers of blood,” you turn your heads at the same time, soft smiles on your lips when your eyes meet, like you’re sharing sweet words of love rather than painting pictures of horrors.

Perhaps that is what wrath is for us, you wonder, your eyes flicking between violet and sapphire when you turn toward your brother, What is death if not the sweetest of devotions?

He takes your hands in his, glancing down when your fingers intertwine before looking back up at you; you can feel yourself blushing under his intense gaze, heart squeezing in your chest as he looks at you like that in and of itself is an honor. There’s such softness in his eye, you would think him incapable of violence if you didn’t know better.

“You truly wish for this?” He questions one last time, needing to be sure.

“I’ve told you, I do not wish,” your hands squeeze his, “I need this, Aemond… I would kill for you, for this – for us. Anything, just as you did.”

Your voice trembles when you speak, the intensity of your hushed promises making your head spin because you would. The want you feel, that you have always felt, is not some soft yearning thing. It’s not so simple as some mere whisper uttered in the dead of night at a holy altar while your skin is awash with the glow of candlelight, no.

No, your want is something far more insidious – something deep-seated. An oppressive, clinging thing that has always coaxed you further and further down into that shadowy part of yourself; the part that has always reminded you too much of him.

The demon, lurking in your periphery, that has always begged you to look, has tempted you since childhood with the sweetest of promises, finally rejoices.

Aemond nods, a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and you watch as he lets go of one of your hands to unsheath his dagger. The sight of the worn leather handle makes you smile bashfully, though your core clenches all the same, and you gasp when you feel another drop of his seed soak into your smallclothes.

“You know the words?”

Again, he nods and your head cocks to the side curiously when a wash of pink grows on his pale cheeks; he smiles again and fixes you with that same intense stare. “I used to spend hours reading them, over and over, when we were children,” he whispers, leaning closer to you like he’s revealing some deep, dark secret, “I always wanted to get them perfect for you.”

A little peal of laughter echoes through the cellars before you swallow thickly, trying to tamper the tightness at the back of your throat as the backs of your eyes sting, tears pooling in your waterline. He cups your cheek and you smile when he brushes one away, a pleased hum leaves his lips when you nod.

Aemond raises the dagger, glancing between its shining blade and your lips while you ready yourself, one hand clenching at the black silk of your skirts. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises.

You hold stock-still, gasping when he presses the cool edge of it against your lower lip, yet your eyes don’t leave his when he finally cuts – nicking your delicate flesh just enough to draw blood before offering you the dagger. Grasping it, you mirror his steps exactly, just as careful with him.

Setting the dagger to the side, you both reach up at the same time, swiping a thumb over your own lip before reaching out. Your arms intertwine when you brush each other’s foreheads, leaving behind two crimson lines.

His gaze never breaks from yours as he takes the blade again and carefully cuts his palm, holding it out to you again and waiting while you do the same, gasping at the sharp sting. Finally, the two of you join hands, blood mingling together as a few drops of it splatter on the stone floor as Balerion bears witness to your union.

“Hen lantoti ānogar, va syndroti vāedroma, mēro perzot gīhoti, elēdroma iārza sīr,” he recites, murmuring the words with care, making sure to enunciate each syllable, to make the vows unmistakeable to whichever ghosts may be listening, “Izulī ampā perzī, prūmī lanti sēteksi, hen jeny māzīlarion,” (Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows. Two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass.)

Aemond pauses, taking a breath as he squeezes your hand with his, echoing your smile.

“Qēlossa ozūndesi, syndroro ōñō jēdo, ry kīvia mazvestraksi,” he finishes, all but breathing the last few words as his eye grows misty. (The stars stand witness, the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light.)

The two of you stand still for a moment like you’re waiting for the world to crash down around you and you can feel his heart beating in time with yours as your palms press together, both of you seemingly in shock at finally, finally having everything you’ve ever wanted.

You can’t tell who moves first but suddenly you’re crashing against him, dagger clanging as it hits the floor, while the two of you clutch at one another desperately, uncaring of the blood smearing on your clothes.

Your lips press against his like they’re a lifeline and you moan at the touch, swiping your tongue over his while you grab at the lapels of his jacket. His hands cup your cheeks, staining one with red, before carding through your hair.

“Gods,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours while the two of you pant, breathing out soft laughs. “My little wife…” He says the word slowly, lets it drag over his tongue.

“Husband,” you reply between soft kisses to his cheek, head spinning at how a word that once had to be dragged from you, that had scraped against your skin like thorns, now felt like silk slipping cooly over you.

Your brother growls deep in his chest and his eye flutters shut for a second before his hands are at your waist again and he’s walking you backwards, only a few paces, until you’re pressed against one of the stone columns surrounding the great dragon’s skull. Though your landing is soft, it wrenches a gasp from you all the same but you don’t have time to question his intent before his lips are on yours again.

You moan into the kiss, matching each of his deep groans with one of your own as your tongues tangle together. “Aemond,” you pant when he begins trailing kisses down across your jaw and neck, “What –”

He nips at your cleavage then and you can feel him smirking at the loud whine he pulls from you, soothing the skin after with a sweet kiss before sinking to his knees before you. The sight is enough to make you weak – the man that loves you more than eternity itself, who loves you enough to do terrible, monstrous things, kneeling at your feet and staring up at you like you are his salvation.

Your hands tangle in his soft hair while he pulls at your skirts, pushing them up and out of the way, kissing your thighs as he goes. “You had the chance to worship at your altar, sweetest little wife,” he pants, groaning when he pushes your smallclothes to the side and licking his lips at the sight of your cunt, still wet with your combined spend, “Now let me worship at mine.”

That’s the only warning you get before he dives in, lapping at your center with a loud, satiated growl. Your head thuds back against the column while your eyes are fixed, half-lidded, on Balerion, on the fire that surrounds him.

You understand, then – the curtains of fire that blanketed the continent were necessary to conquer it, just as blood was necessary to bind the two of you. Perhaps one day you’ll be called to answer for that, but even then you would do it a thousand times over; even if the dark, shadowy parts of yourself, of him, lead to the deepest pits of the Seven Hells. You would do it, again and again, for him.

You were always meant to burn together.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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penvisions · 6 months ago

Text

by the grit of sandpaper {chapter 7}

Pairing: Jackson! Joel Miller x Patrol Partner! Reader

Summary: A letter, clear words, the work forged by skilled but aching hands, all of it helps you to heal from what had been one of the worst weeks of your life.

Word Count: 13.3k (!!)

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, age gap (reader is early 40's and joel is 57), pining, requited unrequited love, heart of gold joel, carpenter joel, woodworking joel, artisan joel, patrol partnership, mild injuries, confessions, lots of feelings, light angst, hurt and comfort, fighting, two (2) satisfying slaps, joel miller's hands need their own warning, smut, p in v, unprotected p in v, oral (f and m receiving), soft joel, pet names (sweetheart), serious conversations, apologies, references to child loss, minor character death, blood, talk of female anatomy, reader has no assigned name but has a commonly used nickname, lemme know if i missed any major ones!

A/N: SURPRISE, Y'ALL!! i was supposed to have internet installed this week but it's been delayed again and my local library is only open today and since queues make me nervous, i threw caution to the wind and yeah - WE MADE IT. this is the final chapter! i am so delighted and humbled by the responses to this fic. i put a lot of myself into olive and for everyone to root for her and cheer her on means so, terribly much to my lil heart. i love y'all and i hope this finds you well ♡

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The hush of cardstock is the only sound in the room as Joel shuffles through the recipes you had written down for him, for him and Ellie. The fancy loops of your cursive are faded, a little blurred in some spots and he regretted your time and devotion getting smudged by his lack of attention. He had been too slow to retrieve all the index cards where they had landed, flying into the air as you had run straight into his back. It had taken so long because Marsha hadn’t seemed to get the hint or his direct words that he was not and would not be with her the way that she wished for him to be.

But she did now. She had been picking Millie up when Joel had all but kicked the door in, shouts of needing help echoing down the street. The woman had flattened herself to the wall, eyes taking in your unconscious form in Joel’s arms. How carefully he maneuvered, how mindful he was to not jostle your body too much, how frantic his expression was even as he tried to explain what he could to the nurse and doctor who sprang forward at the sight. His brows were drawn together, worry evident as he explained to them your stitches from a few days ago had opened, how you had been coughing up blood before he found you. The fear in his strong voice when he detailed how cold you were, how unresponsive. All of it combined was a reflection of his care for you. Something only seen in his interactions with Ellie. And now with you.

Joel had felt pride surge in his chest at seeing the damage you had inflicted on the other woman, guilt flaring just seconds after. You had been pushed to your breaking point, not just by her but by everyone in your life. Evidence of the fight was etched across your body from the scratches from the woman’s nails up and down your arms, the tangled tresses of your loose hair, to the bruises that had blossomed along your soft skin.

The most notable with the tearing of your stitches. The stain of blood on your skin in places he couldn’t wipe it away, for fear of harming you further, even in your unconscious state. It had been three days, and you still hadn’t woken up. Even after the repair to the wound, a better stitch pattern was implemented and two blood transfusions. One from him and one from Tommy.

He hadn’t wanted to leave your side since he brought you in, but he had things he needed to take care of. The few people who interacted with you coming in and checking on you, him coming to spend each evening by your bedside and staying through the night. Maria was across from him now, Macon sound asleep in her arms as the clock ticking on the wall displayed the post sunset hour.

“Marsha will be interrogated at the next town meetings, for her behavior and words towards Olive.”

“Good.” Joel croaked, his voice gravely from disuse.

“Millie will be on next week’s patrol with you, per your request. Once she’s adequately trained, she’ll be added to the rotation.”

“If she takes to being trained. I have a feeling she might pretend to not learn anythin’ just to get out of it.”

“We’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Maria hummed in agreement, knowing more than Joel the small requests and complaints the woman has made in her time behind the walls. “It’s time some of the people who have been idle share the responsibility. Besides, Olive requested to be taken off patrol before. I’m sure she’ll double down on that once she’s recovered.”

“Please tell me she didn’t hate being forced to be my partner when Tommy asked. I don’t think I could ever apologize enough if it was somethin’ she didn’t want to-“

“Joel, she was okay with it, believe me.” Moving to stand, the woman reached to rest a hand on your legs beneath the blankets. “She was glad to feel like she was trusted enough to be asked. She never had any ill feelings toward you, even when she didn’t know you.”

She watches him, he can feel the weight of her stare on him as he continues to go over each of the cards contents. There’s a bag beside him, a small canvas thing he had loaded up with some spare pieces of lumber from bigger projects, scraps that he spent the evening hours whittling and carving as he sits beside you bed. He alternates between doing that and going over the cards, habits to keep him awake as he sits vigil and waits for you to return to him.

“I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came back. But…you surprised me.”

“How so?” He knows he was always a sore and heavy subject between her and his brother. Even more so when he quite literally stumbled onto their doorstep. He had been determined to change, to give back into the second chance at life he had been handed, for Ellie, for his brother– for himself. Aligning himself with the customs and way of life carved out in the plains of Wyoming. He’s glad he hadn’t fallen completely to the depraved, hallowed out version he had adapted to, had been forced to become with the loss of everything he knew, with the loss of his daughter.

“You’ve meshed well with the lifestyle we created here, got onto good terms with one of the best people we have here.”

He didn’t look up from the cards in his hands, he knew that. Deep down, he knew you hadn’t minded patrolling with him. But it was hard to understand with how messed up everything was at the moment and he lost himself to the circling thoughts of how hurt you had looked as you stood your ground with him a few days ago in your kitchen. But his head shot up when a whimper sounded into the air that wasn’t from the woman or his nephew.

You were stirring in the bed, eyes still closed. Hands shaking as they raised to cradle your middle, mind no doubt recalling the circumstances of your last waking moments. Joel’s heartbeat was loud in his chest, echoing in the spot where they had drawn blood from the inside crook of his right elbow. Macon gurgled in Maria’s hold, wide eyes cut towards you as you shifted a little underneath the blankets.

“Joel…” You murmured, eyes clenching shut tightly. You weren’t rousing, you were still unconscious, though your mind seemed to be in working order if you were dreaming. Joel sets down the index cards atop the blankets over you, moving closer to grip a hand with both of his, the other laid out flat to ensure the line of the IV didn’t get tangled or kinked.

“I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.” He soothed you as best he could, the wrap of your fingers around his stirring his heart to beat faster in his ribcage.

As he’s leaving the morning, a patrol that he would be taking Ellie out on with the approval of the council to begin her training as well, he see’s the shadow of two figures approach your room out of the corner of his eye just as he’s placing a parting kiss on your forehead.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t know anyone would be here this early.” It’s the sister and brother pair you had insisted on bringing back. The woman, Callie Joel thinks her name is, is holding a hand to her swollen stomach protruding out from beneath her long coat. It looks like it wouldn’t fasten with how far along she was. Nolan, the man who had been with you when this whole mess started was a step behind her and a bouquet of dried flowers clenching in his hand.

“It’s okay, was jus’ leavin’.”

“Look, Mr. Miller.” Nolan steps up to him, leaving a few feet of space as Joel turns to head to the door while Callie sidles up to take the chair he had slept in and scoot it close to your unconscious form. “I tried my best to tamp down the fight, but Olive, she’s…she’s a scrappy one. Was on that other girl before I could even blink.”

“Millie. The other one’s name is Millie.”

“Millie did this?” Callie questions from her spot holding your hand in hers, eyes wide. “She’s been so nice to me, I had dinner with her and her mom just last week…”

“Millie ‘n Olive don’t get along too well, bad history.” Joel hopes he isn’t overstepping your privacy by saying so, but if the two were intent on being at least friendly with you, they deserved to know that not everyone was so forward in their interactions with you. “Patrol gone wrong, they both lost someone important to them and Millie didn’t deal with it well.”

“She called her a whore, when she saw us talking.” Nolan explained, “Olive moved first and apologized, but all hell broke loose when Millie hit her back.”

“She what?” Joel felt anger burn hot through his veins, the implication of you being anything other than kind and thoughtful not sitting well with him. No wonder you had snapped, Joel hadn’t found out exactly what had occurred, the council stemming the raging gossip as best they could as soon as it began to spread. Reminding people to deal with personal issues in non-confrontational ways or punishment would be doled out and extra duties would be tacked on.

The two fell quiet, feeling the anger simmering in him. Joel’s face had darkened, brow furrowed deep and his jaw ticking as he tried to get a control on it.

“Y’all have a good day.” He manages before he’s out the door, his steps even and nearly silent as he makes his way out of the infirmary. He’s at Marsha’s in the blink of an eye, fist knocking against the wood of their front door.

“Marsha isn’t home, she’s serving out her punishment by taking over Olive’s morning shifts at the mess hall.” Maria’s voice calls to him as she strolls down the street. Macon is in her arms, but he’s fussing. She stops and places him in the baby carriage in front of her and quiets him with a pacifier. “Millie is out getting the rundown of how patrol works and what her responsibilities are.”

“Did you know that Millie called-“

“Yes. It’s been dealt with.” Maria’s voice implied she didn’t agree with what happened, that it was indeed being considered with much thought, not taken lightly with how it built up to the point of combustion in the town’s center on one of the busiest nights.

“Easy now, honey, there you go.” Tommy’s soothing voice allowed for you to feel less embarrassed about how slow moving you were, how long it was taking to trek from the infirmary to your house. His arm was around your waist, his other in front of him as he held onto your right hand for added support. “Joel will probably be knocking on your door the second he gets back from patrol and finds you gone from the clinic.”

“He can knock all he wants.” You huffed out, not too sure how you were feeling toward the man at the moment. Once you had woken up, the nurses told you he hadn’t left your side during the nights you had been there. Tommy and Maria sharing with you the way he had been frantic to find you the second he had found out about your fight with Millie. The decision of you no longer wanting to do patrol being portrayed as a punishment for your violent outburst. But the council held no real ill will toward you, having addressed the behavior you faced from more than a few of the townspeople.

“Marsha is due to cover your shifts at the mess hall, the early ones. Until you’re ready to go back.”

“Dunno, think she needs more ‘n a week or two tackling that hectic shift.”

“There’s my girl,” Tommy beamed, glad to know you weren’t too injured to show the side of yourself he knew.

As you turned down your street, Tommy let go of you at your insistence to try and support yourself. After a few stumbling steps, you managed to find your balance, even if your pace was still on the slow side.

“Joel ‘n I fixed your door. Well, we made a new one, actually. Old man did some damage to the other one when his big bulky frame was pushed into it by those storm winds,” He chuckled, most likely picturing the ordeal that was far more tense and serious than a mishap on Joel’s part. It had been…one of the hardest things you had to do, stand your ground and deny the man you had come to care. Especially in the face of him practically confessing to you that he shared in your feelings. “Cranked the heat up to get it back to the temperature you prefer. Even watered the plants for you, fed that stray that comes around sometimes. I think it found the crate you set up for it on your back porch.”

“You’re too sweet, Tommy. Thank you.” You watched as he unlocked the door and for the first time since leaving the infirmary you noticed how he was constantly shifting. His weight from foot to foot, his hands raking through his long, dark curls.

He helped you up the few steps of your stoop, his hands a gentle weight, arms ready to tense and catch you should you lose your balance. Once you were settled in your bed, a bottle of pain killers and a glass of water on your bedside, the man tentatively settled on the foot of your bed.

“I wanted to apologize, formally.” He started, brown eyes glittering in the midafternoon sunlight filtering in through the blinds. You leaned up from the pillows propped up behind your back and up against the fabric headboard, about to say something but he held up a wide palm to stop you. “You told me ‘n Maria in passing the behavior people have toward you. It was out of our control, freedom of speech ‘n all but…we should’ve at least tried to tamp it down more than we did.”

“Tommy, everyone has already done so much in letting me in, giving me a chance. I did-didn’t want to stir any trouble and it wasn’t real-really anything I couldn’t handle.”

“Honey…” He stands up and nestles himself between you and the edge of the bed, his back on the headboard right next to you. He brings you into his chest and kisses into the crown of your head as you return the embrace. something he hadn’t done since you appeared back at Jackson’s gates with blood covering you head to toe and the corpse of your friend draped over the back of your horse. “You deserve to feel comfortable, to feel safe. No matter what.”

The next morning, after a night spent tossing and turning, you shuffled down the hallway and into the kitchen without turning on a light. It was still dark out, using what little of the streetlight so close to the front of your house filtered in through the sheer curtains. When you sat at the kitchen table, you tried to set your mug down but there was a clatter as the bottom of it collided with something already resting there. And the space next to it, it seemed the whole table was covered in stuff, leaving no room for you to set it. Mumbling about people being in your house and rearranging your stuff, you shuffled over to the lamp atop the storage hutch’s middle shelf.

But you’re shocked when you flick the light on and turn back around to the table. It’s…covered. Every inch of the surface taken up by small stacks of what looks like intricately carved plates, serving trays, spoons, spatulas, and small figures that look like birds moving in a downward swoop. The coffee still in your hand splashes a little to the tile beneath your bare feet, starting you as it bounces up to kiss the skin of your ankles. But you pay it no mind as you absently set it on the hutch beside the light and move to the table with watering eyes.

It had to have been him. Joel.

The plates are beautiful, vaguely floral shaped and stained such a deep mahogany. They’re not too heavy, though they are very sturdy in your inspecting hands. Turning each one from the three separate stacks of them, each a different size from dessert to salad to serving plates, reveal a small J.M branded into the wood. Each of the leaf shaped serving trays reveal the same, though they are heavier and a bit harder for you to turn over in your weakened state. Large smoothed edged bowls are nestled in each other, the topmost one holding matching large serving spoons made your heart lurch and your stomach swoop.

The carving had been lovingly attended to because each rivet and swirl, each boarder and flat surface, it was all so seamlessly smooth. On evert single piece littering your table.

Tears are trailing down your cheeks to rest atop his intricate creations. The sight of two sets of spoons and two sets of spatulas held together with twine making you have to clap a hand over your mouth as a sob wracks through your body. The memory of hurling the ones you had requested from him flashing too bright and loud. You had taken something crafted by him and thrown in across this very kitchen, disrespecting the time and attention he had devoted to the request you had made.

Collapsing into the chair, you let the emotions of the last week take over you. Your coffee is lukewarm when you rise to retrieve it, but you twirl a carved bird in your hand as you sip from it, tears waned for the moment. That’s when you spot the large, flattened pieces on the other side of the table.

Cutting boards, three of them. Each one with a branding on the thick sides to label them individually for herbs, vegetables, and meat. The entire surface of each it sealed with a coating, but beneath it on the corners are floral patterns that you squint your eyes to take a closer look at. Gasping, you realize he had depicted the blooms often found on olive trees. His voice suddenly rings in your head as your mind recalls something you weren’t even conscious for but had filed away.

‘I made you one…I made them all for you. All of them, every single one….C’mon, sweetheart. You gotta let me save you so you’ll have one. I’ll give you anything, I’ll give you everything. Olive, please.’

‘I’m here. It’s okay, you’re okay. ‘m not going anywhere, you hear me? I’m right here, Olive.’

The tears flow, with no end in sight as you reach a shaking hand for the note you see laying atop the largest one.

‘Olive, I know I’m shit with words, I know I’ve sent such mixed signals with everything. But I want you to know, need you to know that seeing you is the best part of my day, of every day. Even if it’s just across the mess hall, across the street, as I walk home from patrol and see you in the window of your kitchen with a soft smile. The talks we have, the questions we share, every single word we’ve exchanged as made me feel worthy of the things you think of me, for the first time in a long while.

You are such an extraordinary, kind, thoughtful person and I am so lucky to have made it here to Jackson to cross paths with you. I can’t change what happened, but each hitch of your breath, each tug of the brim of your hat over your eyes, each moment spent with you makes me want to wrap you up in my arms and keep you close. I don’t want the first time you hear the words from me to be in writing, but, Olive. I fear I’ve fallen for you, and it’s made me such a fool. Please take these gifts for what they are, a representation of how I think of you every second of every day. Of how you inspire me to be a better person. Of how much love I have for you. J.M.’

Your coffee goes completely cold as you sit at the table, reading the note over and over again.

The gentle knock on your door kickstarted your heart, fluttering hard in your chest as you knew who was on the other side of the repaired wood. You turned the burner off on the stove top, shifting it to rest atop one of the cooler ones. You called for the man who held your heart to ‘wait a second, please’ before you turned to the table and reached for one of the serving bowls, spooning out the steamed contents of the pan into it and placed it back among the others already atop the table. The table was full, dishes coloring the spread laid out across the table. The rest of his gifts had been carefully places in the hutch along the back wall, some of them displayed behind the glass of the topmost part.

Toasted sandwiches cut into triangles rested atop one of the leaf serving trays, the one you had just filled up with three different types of steamed and roasted vegetables. A glass pitcher of fresh juice you pressed earlier a deep red and shining in the flames from candles interspersed between the trays and plates. You nervously ran your hands down the front of your apron, a worn but loved patterned thing that wrapped around the back of your neck and at the back of your waist.

The brownies looked a little thick, now that you took a second to consider them. A rich buttercream piped into a swirling tower amid them stacked up on one of the larger flower plates. The midsize ones set in front of two chairs with empty glasses and clean utensils beside them. All set up, all waiting.

For him, for Joel.

Moving to the door, you paused and took a deep breath to calm yourself, the titter of shyness you weren’t sure you would ever overcome when it came to the man on the other side. Reaching for the lock, you clicked it out of its setting and twisted the handle to open the door.

Joel was stood there, silhouetted against the bright winter sun, the broadness of his shoulders and the volume of his curls on display so close for you. His head had been hanging, one hand on the wall beside the door. And when he looked up to catch your eyes, your breath hitched and you felt your fingers twitch at the urge to pull him close. To let him make his written words a reality and cradle you in his arms.

“I-I got your no-note. And the – the things you left f-for me.”

“Did you,” He cleared his throat, hand moving from where it was supporting him to fall to his side, clenching and unclenching in that own nervous habit he had. His eyes roved up and down your body, taking the image you were making in your doorway. You felt like you looked okay, but your hair was a little frizzed out from the heat of cooking. And you were so, incredibly self-conscious. He was such a handsome man, and you were…just you. His voice was shaky, something you couldn’t ever recall hearing from someone normally so controlled. “Did you…like everythin’ alright?”

“It’s all so perfect. Th-thank you.” You smoothed your hands down the front of the apron again, nervous and unsure of how to approach him even as your body hummed in anticipation from the thought of it. He loved you. And you loved him back.

“And the- the note?”

“Y-yeah.” You couldn’t bring your eyes up to meet his, too self-conscious with how all uncharted everything seemed to be.

“I’m so fucking sorry. I-“ He surged forward through the open door, but his boots scuffed as he cut the movement short. You had unconsciously stepped back, nerves alight from the last time you had been approached. Muscles twitching, your arms tingled with the way you tried to relax from the sudden tension that had flooded your entire body. Fight or flight activated. You could see the way his throat bobbed with the nervous swallow he took before sighing out a deep breath. “Olive, I swear to you, I- you’re so good. The sweetest, prettiest thing I’ve had the pleasure of knowing in my time and if you’ll let me, I’ll be a good man for you. I’ll be a good man with you.”

“Joel, I-“ Your words choked off into a sob, tears trialing hot down your cheeks as your emotions spiked and cascaded over you. Hands trembling as you did reach out for him, fingers wrapping around the unzipped edges of his thick jacket. He moved into you, his own hands coming up to cradle your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m with you. Not goin’ anywhere unless you want me to, okay?” He holds you, letting you bury your tear-stained face into his neck. The flow of them still falling from your eyes dampening the fabric of his flannel.

“D-do you want some lunch?” A shy smile pulled at your lips, heat blooming in your chest even as the tears continue to fall.

He seems to release all of the tension in his shoulders as he sighs out something relieved. You can tell he’s a little confused by the question, but he wasn’t going to turn it down. The opportunity to spend time with you, to talk to you. He had come here, after all, not even knowing where you two stood after everything. Fresh from a patrol, you could smell the lingering scent of hay from the stables on him. The leather from his gloves sliding along and holding the reigns of his horse. Nodding, you finally manage to meet his eyes and your breath hitches even as a pang of worry echoes in your chest.

“H-how was patrol?” You wait for him to take a seat before you go to pick up the pitcher and pour him some of the juice you had made. His hands are a soft hush over yours as he takes it from you and pours himself a glass before reaching for your own empty one with a lopsided smile.

“It was good, took Ellie out for her first one. She’s been buggin’ me about it since the start of winter.”

“Is she going to be my replacement? I don’t want her to feel like she has to if she’s not ready.” His eyes move over your face as you spoon steaming vegetables onto his plate and then yours.

“Maria agreed with me that Millie should be trained up, she’s starting with me next week. It’s part of her punishment for instigating the fight.”

“Oh.” Another thing for the woman and her mother to hold against you. You worried for a second of how much damage you had done to her in your near fugue state but then realized if she was okay enough to start patrol then she was far better off than you happened to be.

“We don’t have to talk about that or we- we can, if you want to. Just…just want to talk with you. About anything.” About anythin’, about nothin’.”

The conversation isn’t much from then on, but it’s enough to hold his attention. You’re tired, so incredibly tired and lethargic from the emotional morning you had, from putting all the food spread over the table together, not much of it left after Joel devours a lot of it. Starvin’ he had said through a bite, pink tinging his ears as you offered to make another sandwich for him. He had assured you everything you had made was enough and now a half pot of coffee sits in mugs in front of you each, brownies bitten into after dipping it in the frosting you had made.

As soon as his two were swallowed, he turned beseeching, wide eyes to you and you found moving to stand between his legs. His arms were so warm around you, the food and his company weighing you down in the best way as you wrap your own around his neck. His face is buried in your chest while you press a kiss to his steel curls, something that worries you for a split second before he sighs out a small ‘you’re so soft, sweetheart’.

“I-I want to talk more, but,” Your weight sagged against him, his arms tightening around you to help keep you on your feet. “I’m so tired, Joel. I think I need to lay down.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand, lemme just- I’ll clean up lunch and get out of your hair, go on and rest.” But you didn’t move, your breath hitching as you leaned back enough to peer up at him. Your eyes surely gave away how drained you were, but you weren’t quite yet ready to let him go. Even if things were a little stilted and there was so much to discuss. Right now you just wanted to lay down, to get off your feet and relieve some of the tension on your stitches.

“W-will you stay?”

“Of course.”

He follows silently behind you, boots thudding on the hardwood flooring of the hallway. Each step matching the beating of your heart. Through the door and into your room, you realize he must’ve already been in here, it was so tidy and the laundry that had piled up was neatly folded atop your dresser.

If he’s just as nervous as you are, he doesn’t show it. Seemingly taking things as they come, letting you shrug him from the flannel you had unbuttoned. When you move your hands to the buckle of his belt, one of his large hands covers both of yours. Looking up, you reassure him nothing has to happen and that you aren’t ready for anything to happen but you don’t want the denim on your clean sheets. He nods, letting you continue to disrobe him. A shaky laugh falls from his plush lips as you notice the line of him through his boxer briefs, it twitches under your quick glance, and you feel a swoop in your own stomach in response.

He asks if you need to change to, offering to turn around. But you grip his wrists and bring his hands to the ties at the side. It’s a loose thing, to help you manage to move around better, the prospect of pants and a belt too daunting despite the season. He carefully lifts the fabric from your body, his eyes on your face the entire time, even as the clothing falls to pile on top of his. With a nervous giggle, you lead him to the bed and you both get comfortable underneath the covers. It’s early, not even the sun has set, but neither of you seem to mind the time.

He's settled against the pillows when you reach out a hand on your normal side of the bed, fingers tangling with his as you lay slightly on your side toward him. The bandages around your middle are obvious underneath the camisole you wear with your underwear. He’s facing you too, his other hand moving to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I…I want to.” Your words are barely above a whisper, as you take in the image he creates beside you, filling the empty part of your bed with his broad frame. His steel curls flattened on the pillow, his warmth only a few inches away, his eyes soft and watching you as you collect the words from your mind to fill your tongue. It had been something you yearned for since that first brush of his hand against yours, that first smile you managed to pull from him with an offhand comment, from the first moment he asked you a question in return to one of your own. Even if someone else had shown you the same kindness, his would be the one you sought after. “Be with you.”

“I want that too, sweetheart, more’n anything, but…I hurt you. I know that, I was careless in my attempts to be careful, to not push you. To…surprise you with what I wanted to be the first thing I gifted you.”

“Tommy told me. You know I thought some kids stole that piece of the trunk?” Your eyes glitter with a hint of mirth, teasing tone light and reminiscent of times past. It’s fleeting, the bone deep exhaustion settled in your body not only physical but mental. “I…Joel, I worry about…everything. All the time. You deserve to the chance to thrive here, for Ellie to thrive here and…being with me would-“

“I’d choose you over the town any day, you’ve gotta know that. Me and Ellie, we’ve been through a lot but we’re tough, you don’t gotta worry about us. I know…that people see her lack of manners and anxious tendencies as something that needs to be fixed. Maybe, yeah, the little troublemaker could stand to hold her tongue sometimes but she’s so young, she’s got a lot to unlearn from being raised the way she was. She’s a good kid, she’s good but you are too. We’ll take it slow, because I haven’t done this dance in while, hell, ever really. And I want to do it right, I want to be what you want because I definitely know you don’t need me.”

“I haven’t needed for anything in a long time, but Joel Miller believe me when I saw my days are better when they’re spent with you. Even…even the bad ones to an extent.”

“I’ll apologize a thousand times.” He tightens his grip, tired eyes trained on them. There’s a sadness to them, the depths of which he had let you glimpse once before. Loss, pain, devastation in the wake of when the world has broken and then turned into. You share in that sadness, having lost the person you had devoted your life to protecting, having lost the life you had just begun to flourish in before it was ripped from your hands, having lost a child that you could still hear crying in your sleep some nights…

The words are on the tip of your tongue, the need for comfort from the one person you wanted it from, needed it from. It was true that you had been complacent before him, not concerned with the things people felt the need to pursue in the lives they felt safe enough to pursue here in the town. That he stroked yearning in the very core of who you were, something you hadn’t ever experienced even back when the world was thriving and bustling as it once had been.

“Can we j-just kiss a-and start to move for-forward?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think I exactly deserve that right now…” Your face falls. The small, shy smile dipping and the sides of your mouth dropping into a frown as you feel the burn of tears prickle again behind your cheeks. The rejection hurts, even if you understand why he feels that way and agree with him to an extent that this situation isn’t going to magically fix itself.

“But I do.”

He doesn’t even think to argue, not with the way that he’s leaning close to touch his soft lips to yours as soon as the words leave them.

“I’ve gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” Joel’s whisper roused you, so close you reached for him. Long fingers curling around his wrist, nails lightly scratching the soft skin there. He felt the cumulation of inching out of bed slowly and quietly to not wake you as the vain attempt it was. He should’ve known his efforts would be fruitless, his resolve chipping away to nothing when you breathed his name out on a sleepy sigh. “I got training patrol. Be back early this afternoon, bring you something from the mess hall, alright sweetheart?”

You only hummed in response, lips pressed against his wrist now, sending tingling trickles of sensation all over his body at the easy way in which you displayed your affection for him now. It had been a couple of weeks. Two weeks of you making dinner one night, then walking him through another the next day. Of coffee in the mornings when he wasn’t busy, the never-ending list housed on the spiral notepad in his back pocket present in only the worn fabric over his pockets, the actual thing mysteriously gone. A break for the season, he has said when you asked him, palming the fabric of his back pockets one day.

As you lay in bed, dozing back off in the wake of his departure, Joel is outside the gates with a nervous Millie astride a horse beside him. They stop on as Joel figures an open field a few miles away would be the best bet for practice. Far enough for the sound of gunfire to not echo back and alarm people but close enough to rush back should something go awry.

“Know anythin’ about guns?” He looks over to the younger woman, her eyes wide and her head on a swivel as she constantly takes in her surrounds. He feels a little bad that she’s so on edge, but the only way to make her more comfortable is to get her out more and more. Allow her to see that it doesn’t have to be all bad. But he does understand her reaction, she’s never been outside the walls, had never been outside the town that it was before the walls went up. She had been younger than you when the world shattered, had people to look after her and care for her.

“My daddy taught me how to shoot them when the world fell apart. But that was…a long time ago now.”

“Okay, well, we’re gonna see what suits you better. On patrol we use shotguns, but a handgun will do in a pinch. The key is range, keeping any threat as far away as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Miller.” She watches him closely as he removes the shotgun slung around his back. He checks that the safety is secured and he holds it out to her as she moves to stand beside him at the beckoning of his hand. He walks her through the general mechanics of the gun, firm in her not placing her finger on the trigger until she was ready to shoot.

“Are you right or left handed?”

“Um…I favor my left.” He hands off the gun to her, telling her to practice her grip on the large gun while he rummages in one of the packs attached to his saddle. He’s got a cloth bag that he fills with snow and ice that coats the ground, propping it up a good distance away on top of a long dead tree stump.

Time passes and her aim gets a little better, though she’s taking too long to line up her shots. Joel reminds her to just take a breath in and shoot as she exhales. But the words cut off as he sees movement on the horizon of their spot on in the field. He’s off a ways from her, by the target he had set up for the woman to practice on. He’s turned to hold a halting hand up to her before he takes his own gun out from the holster and puts one of them down.

Another sprints from the cover of the forest nearby, but he’s focused on taking down the other two far too close for comfort. Just as he turns to take out the one closing in on him, it lunges and he’s struggling not to fall with the sudden weight slamming into him. His gun goes flying and he curses out as he tries to fend it off with his arms, the snapping of its mangled teeth loud and far too close to his face.

He wishes he had spent a few more minutes with you in bed, pressing his lips to your forehead to your cheek, to your plush lips, to any part of your body he could as the bullet ripped through him and pain sparked hot across his entire chest. Through it, he manages throw the stunned thing to the ground, another shot flying from across the field to land directly in the back its head. Joel is looking up as he bends down to retrieve his gun, his other hand pressing hard to the burning in his shoulder. Millie is too focused on him to see the blur running toward her, too late in her shifting attention as it grips her shoulder tights. Taking a deep breath, Joel tries to focus as best he can to line up his aim and take out the single Infected that remained.

He shoots and it goes down.

His shoulder throbs and his vision darkens at the edges.

“Joel!” You shout, simmering panic making you forget common manners as you burst through the door leading into the main exam room of the infirmary. There are three beds lined up on the opposite wall, other rooms set up for more serious cases that required overnight stays. Millie and Joel are settled into two of them, the younger trembling and holding her right shoulder while Joel is pressing a kerchief to his front, blood soaking it through.

Marsha is already plastered to the side of her daughter’s bed. Making no noise whatsoever, which was just as uncomforting as you realized how pale she they both were. Blood splattered over Joel while Millie looked relatively unharmed.

Millie launches into a jumble of words as she gets up from the bed, but you stop her in your tracks with a chilling look over your shoulder as you go immediately to Joel’s side.

“You need to back the fuck up, Millie. I told you I’m not engaging with you anymore, now go back to your own bed and mind your business.”

Turning from them, your eyes land on Joel and he’s barely able to keep his eyes open as he lays across the bed. Your heart stutters, as does your voice the closer you get to him.

“You two are just perfect for each other with your penchant for harsh words.” Jealousy was ugly on the older woman, making her act out towards you but more concerningly towards Joel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, even in the moments he had let his anger flare around her and he scolded her for her manipulation and childish behavior. He had told you all about it, about every interaction between them to tide your hurt feelings and assumptions about them. He hadn’t needed to do it, but he had wanted to be completely transparent. To share with you the things he experienced.

“And you would be just perfect for recognizing harsh words, wouldn’t you?” You fire back, not even bothering to look over your shoulder at the woman who had caused so much grief and anxiety. Your words seem to stun her, as she doesn’t rebuff you in anyway, but you feel guilt flash at the kneejerk reaction, still so worried about upsetting anyone or instigating anything remotely unfriendly. But Joel was bleeding and it you were far more worried about him at the moment.

“What ha-hap-happened? That’s so mu-much blood!”.” You ask him quietly, concerned with how his unseen injuries could be affecting him. His fingers twitch, letting you know he was trying to reach out for you. You sidle up beside him, hands reaching for his left as your wide eyes take in the expanse of his naked chest. The nurse has on pink stained white. One of the nurses bursts through the open door, ignoring the tension in the room, quickly getting to work with the tray of equipment she brought in. Her pristine gloves immediately take on a pink stain, blood gushing over his front as she digs a pair of long tweezers into a large bullet hole. She exposes in his right shoulder once she peels back the collar of his jacket and cuts away the tattered collar of his undershirt. “J-Joel, did you g-get ambushed by In-Infected? Or was it peop-people?”

“Was an accident.” He grunts out, hand tightening over yours as the nurse works to stall the bleeding.

“Millie sh-shot you?” You feel ire bubble up ugly and thick, heart beating hard at the thought of Joel out there with no protection other than the person in question, the person who had no idea how to begin to fend for herself or an injured person beyond the walls. She had been so young when the world broke, a few years younger than Aiden had been when you took him as your responsibility, his parents being the first to turn in the restaurant.

“Oh, would you shut up with that god-awful stuttering? Grown woman can’t even speak properly in a moment of crisis.”

“Mother!”

“Making a bad situation worse by simply being here, why don’t you let the nurse take care of him and just leave?”

“Mother, enough! That is no way to talk to Olive, she puts her life on the line every time she goes out beyond the walls. She and Mr. Miller have helped to make this a safe place, you should show her respect and leave her be!”

“Millie Antoinette, that is no way to speak to me.”

“You’re going to lecture me on language with the way you’ve been slinging backhanded insults about Olive all these years? Blaming her for something completely out of her control, berating her for her stutter when you know she can’t help it because the whole town makes her feel like she’s walking on eggshells.”

“This conversation is not over, we will continue this at home.”

Finally turning to look over your shoulder at the way she began to take out her frustrations on Millie, your eyes were set hard and your displeasure was obvious as you took in the way Millie’s good arm was being held far too tightly by the woman.

“Why do-don’t you just keep my na-name out of any future conversations you may have. You’ve caused enough damage, your own daughter paying for your actions and getting injured because of it. Joel getting injured because of it. No one is to blame but you and the influence you’ve lorded over her all these years. Twisting and tainting the memory of the man she loved, the man I devoted my life to protecting and ensuring he got to live a somewhat normal one after the world fell apart. He wouldn’t have wanted her to harbor such ill feelings toward me, toward what happened. But you turned it into something to use against me and you hurt her worst of all, teaching her it was okay to behave like such a child!” Your

You’re breathing heavy by the end of your outburst, finding your voice after stuttering through the first words. Unconsciously reaching for and tightening the hold on Joel’s hand through the entire exchange. He squeezes it in reassurance, through the nurse’s ministrations.

“You tell ‘er.” Joel slurs as the nurse secured a large patch of gauze over his would, betadine staining the edges of the material. The action of pressing down the tape around the corners making him hiss out a pained breath and your attention focuses on him once again.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ungrateful little-“ You could feel her approach you from behind and you let go of Joel’s hand, not wanting to jostle him should she push or shove you. She was about your height so when you swung your hand out, your palm landed right on her cheek with enough force to turn her head as the sharp slap echoed around the room.

Red blossomed bright on her skin. Her fingers twitched and you landed another hit without thinking before she could make a more intentional move.

“I know you were not about to touch me,” The feeling of your lip lifting up in a slight snarl was unpleasant, but you couldn’t help the visceral reaction to the woman after everything she had done.

Even in the wake of trying to be polite and cordial with her when you thought her and Joel were a thing, she had shown you thinly veiled niceness in return. Her eyes always watching, much like a hawk stalking its prey. But you wouldn’t be her prey any longer, unwilling to play the part she had bestowed upon you for no good reason. You weren’t a malicious person, you weren’t a violent person. Not anymore. You were kind and thoughtful and did everything you could to be nice and help out where you were needed or wanted, and you would not put up with the woman any longer.

She raised her hand up once the shock of your quick movement wore off and you used the back of your forearm to knock it down, your hand sliding down her arm to capture her wrist in your grip. Her widened eyes found yours and you hoped, fleetingly, that she was unnerved. She cried out when her wrist began to smart underneath the force of your grip, trying to pull it from you but you didn’t budge. She was a fool to think using her free hand to pry at the fingers you had wrapped around her to no avail. You saw the thought for her to raise it at you flash across her face before you felt Joel’s hand gently pull at the back of your sweater.

“That’s enough, Marsha.” Maria’s voice was harsh, cutting into the scene suddenly. “Seeing as your daughter is in good hands, let’s have a little chat.”

The woman’s harsh expression, the twist of her mouth about to shape around a degrading insult, the furrow of her brow as she focused on you, it all fell away the second she realized she had an audience.

The nurse tending to Joel moved silently from Joel’s bedside to Millie’s as you released Marsha from your hold to follow behind Maria.

“Olive, I am so sorry. For everything. You’re right, Aiden wouldn’t have wanted any of this. I-I feel so…badly for how I’ve ignored you all these years when I should’ve been there to comfort you. You lost him too.” Millie cries as the nurse tends to her bruised and swollen shoulder, there now that Joel is taken care of. There was a large bruise marring her skin that was around angry looking welts, scratches that looked like they hadn’t broken the skin, no doubt from whatever occurred outside the walls. You tried focus on her, but it was hard with the adrenaline of confronting Marha thumping harshly through your entire body, Joel could surely feel the trembles where he held onto you.

“We were practicing shootin’ and a group of five or six of ‘em came outta the trees.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you began to peel back his opened flannel and shoved up the shirt he had on underneath. Hands frantic as you felt all around his body for signs of a bite. When you brushed against his groin to move down to his legs to check underneath the denim, you noticed he had fallen quiet. Looking up at him from where you were inspecting his shins, you clocked the way he rested the inside of his wrist over his zipper and belt buckle. His face was tinged a little pink at his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

“You could’ve led with that!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Millie shot the one that almost got me, but the first shot missed and then she took it down. She didn’t see the one comin’ up behind her cause she was so focused on helpin’ me.”

“Just lay back,” You croon sweetly, gently pushing the bulk of him to sit atop the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel groans, adjusting his hips as he scoots up to lean against the plush headboard.

It’s soft everywhere in your room, from the fabric of the headboard to your sheets and covers, to the dried flowers and sheer curtains hanging over the windows. He feels swaddled in the best way, completely wrapped up in the little world you’ve created in your space. The mix of him seen interspersed between your many books lining new shelves he crafted for you to replace the old, creaking ones worn down over time. A carved serving plate he had made for you, atop your bedside table and housing a tube of hand lotion, a note left from him the other day when he had to leave in the early hours. One of his flannels hanging up from a set of floral hooks he had made to go on the back of your door.

He was just a present influence in your home as you were in his. From the multiple bottles of oil scattered about his stove top, to the leftovers clearly labeled and stored in his fridge, to the pair of underwear that had ended up nestled with his in the top drawer of his dresser. The very ones you wore underneath his shirts when you slept over in his bed, making the sheets smell a heady combination of you both that had him seeing you in his dreams even more.

It had been a slow dance of homemade dinners, of nights spent in each other’s bed, of searing kisses and soft words shared between you both over the last two months. Both healed from the events that had allowed for the confusing and heartbreaking one to shift to this one, where it was obvious you both wanted each other, both had so much adoration for each other. But you were still so shy around Joel, never letting things go further than wandering hands sneaking beneath clothing.

But tonight, you were feeling so encompassed by the need to see him, to touch him, to be seen and touched by him in return. Tommy had let slip it was your birthday tomorrow when he asked if you were still coming around his and Maria’s for dinner. Joel had been confused why you hadn’t shared that with him, you knew when his birthday was after all. And everything that came tangled with the date.

“Joel,” You whispered against his lips, having moved to hover over his lap with your arms atop his shoulders. His hair had grown long, the thick locks brushed back by his large hands to swoop into gorgeous curls behind his ears and over the back of his neck. Nearly brushing the tops of his broad shoulders, he groaned out as you toyed with the ends of the long locks now. Nervous energy made it hard to keep your hands still and you confessed quietly as you ran your fingers through the curls. “I…I need to tell you something before we- before we, um, do this.”

“What is it, sweetheart?” His eyes blink open, concern and worry glinting in them as he takes in the way you’re worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “We don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to or aren’t ready. Just wanna be with you, no matter what.”

You start and stutter a few times, the words trailing off as your emotions spike and memories find their way to the surface. But it was the right thing to do, to share this part of your past with him. The potential for the mood to be ruined all to glaring as you realized it would be one of the heavier things you shared with the man who had become you partner in every definition of the word.

“Joel, I…I don’t have, um, I don’t have all my…parts.” Waving a hand over your lower stomach, right where you rested over his own. His confusion was obvious as he focused on the part of your body in question, his plush lips parting as he contemplated how to better ask for clarification. But you leaned back a little, your thighs tightened around his hips as you did so to pick up the hem of your camisole and unbutton the jeans you were still dressed in. A faded but thick scar ran from the bottom of your belly button, swooping below it in an imitation of a smile and then down in a straight line from the middle to disappear beneath the band of your underwear. It was completely healed, but still pink in discoloration.

“The doctors at the QZ we briefly stayed at in the beginning of everything…they did a hysterectomy after I had my…son.”

“Olive…” His hands raise from where they were around your hips, shaking slightly as he pauses in his reach to caress the marred skin. His eyes flash up to meet yours in a silent question for consent and at a small nod, he brushes the knuckle of his index finger over it. Shuddering at the soft touch, you watch the way emotions flit across his weathered face.

“They weren’t nice about it, I still…I still have pretty vivid nightmares about it because there was very little anesthesia, something about rationing the drugs and it…it was one of the most painful things I’ve had to endure. But…I thought you-you should know because I know you have some years on me, and you said you don’t think…an accident would happen and you seemed genuinely concerned because of my age. But it wo-won’t because of this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Joel presses the palm of his right hand over the scar, the warmth of his skin soothing just as much as the kiss he placed on your cheek. “You’re…you’re okay though?”

“As okay as I can be about it,” You consoled his worry, breath hitching as he gently caressed the skin beneath his hand. “I waited until I was healed a year, when the threat of infection was long gone, then I took Aiden and…and Ezra and I got us the hell out of there.”

He didn’t ask how you lost Ezra, he didn’t berate you for your choice to leave the QZ, he didn’t ask how you had even ended up in that situation in the first place. He didn’t do anything but slowly move to where your back was on the bed, and he was hovering over you. Soft kisses and the brush of his mustache trailing over every inch of skin he could see. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of your top in a silent question, and you sat up enough to allow him to life the garment from your body. Willing to show yourself to him, to take the offer of his soothing comfort. His breath puffed out at the sight of your naked chest, his fingers skimming up to brush against the supple skin and hardened peaks now on full display.

He clocks the way your fingers move to the buttons of his flannel and fumble, prompting him to take over for you to push it off his own shoulders, his undershirt disappearing along with it to the floorboards. But before you can move onto his belt, he’s gently pressing you back to the bed and pressing the plush softness of his lips to your body, trailing lower and lower until he brushes them so lightly over your scar.

Your breath hitches and you can feel the small smile as he takes his time to worship your body. To sooth the emotions he must know it took to confess something so big, to engage with him in this way even if you wanted to. Mind’s always tickin’ he would tease, no heat behind his words, but adoration.

Fingers skimming over soft skin, the callouses of time and skill a heady sensation over it ahead of his lips, he slowly shimmies the undone fabric of your jeans down your legs. He takes the time to undo and step out of his own pair before he’s back on the bed, attention focused on your legs as he begins to move up, up, up. Only giving you the barest of chances to take in the thick line of his hard cock as it twitches beneath dark fabric.

His fingers slide underneath the waistband of your underwear from where his palms rest wide on your upper thighs, his mouth suckling the plush skin before him. His lips feel like heaven, like finally stepping through your front door after a long shift, like a hot bath after a long day, like a breath of fresh air after being in a stuffy room. It feels like home. Startling slightly at the sudden press of his nose to your clothed core, you feel more than hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“This okay, not too much?”

“Not too much,” you assure, lifting your hips to allow him to drag the fabric down. Heat blooms in your chest, worry for not being as pretty as someone else or as groomed as you used to be. But all of your anxieties and insecurities fade away as you look down and see the way his eyes are trained on your glistening cunt. He groans out as he drags the beck of a knuckle over your puffy outer lips, reveling in the jerk of your hips at the light contact.

“’s pretty, sweetheart. So perfect.” Is all the warning he gives you before he’s spreading you open with both of his hands and burying his face between your thighs. A long, warm wet lick with the flat of his tongue from one end of you to the other has your head thudding against the pillows and your hands searching for purchase in his hair. Pleasure sparkles all over your body, glitters behind your eyes as he tastes you, suckles that little bundle of nerves, as he gently glides two of his thick, warm fingers right inside and curves them up.

His name is a strangled sound puffed into the air, your breath hitching in the way he admitted to loving so much as he begins to pet your inside walls with his fingertips, his lips latched around your clit. His patchy scruff and mustache adding to the feel of him against your skin, against the most intimate part of you he’s taking his time in pleasuring. It takes everything you have to lift your head enough to peer through bleary eyes to find him already staring up at you. His pupils blown so wide there’s no hint of the deep brown they’re made up of. His brow is furrowed in concentration, the tops of his cheeks barely visible a deep hue of pink as he worships you.

While still holding your gaze, he purses his lips and sucks, turning the sparkles of pleasure into hot waves as they overtake you. Your body isn’t your own any longer as it tenses, back arching clean off bed, your thighs clenching around his ears. Your lost in the force of the pleasure he pulled from you as easily as breathing, taken every moan and sigh as signals to what you liked best, listening to your body like he was meant to. It’s no longer yours but his.

“They’re we go, so good, sweetheart. You taste so good,” He murmurs as he helps your through the crest before pulling again to palm at himself through his underwear with one hand, the other holding your bucking hips down to clean every last bit of your release from where his fingers are pulled from you.

Reaching for him, you tug at him, urging him up to his knees so you had run your palm over the trail of dark hair that disappears below his waistband. He moves his hand from where he’s holding himself through the fabric as your fingers sneak below and touch him for the first time. His hips cant, pressing firmly into your willing hand.

“Take these off, please.” You whisper as you wrap your hand around him, barely able to touch the tips of your fingers with the girth of him fully hard. He’s hot against your skin, velvet soft over the rigidness of his cock. Finally seeing all of him as he pulls the fabric down and pushes it past his thighs. You let him go for him to toss them over the side of the bed, eyes taking in the stretch of his body through the action.

He’s peppered with freckles over his tan skin, chest covered in thick hair that’s the same steel grey of his curls, thick thighs tensed with the way he sits before you on his knees. He’s littered with scars, some thin and crisscrossing over each other, some raised thick to disrupt the smoothness of his skin, though none hold the same untold story of the one at his temple. The one he lets you brush softly before sleep. But they don’t take away from his beauty, they enhance it and let you know without a doubt he’s a fighter.

His cock is thick and long, ruddy at the tip and bobbing despite the heft to kiss his stomach as you eye him up and down. Every inch of him is beautiful and you tell him with a sigh, body singing for him to come back to you. Locking eyes with him, you see his own insecurities wash away at the wonder and admiration you gaze at him with.

As soon as you move to reach for him, he’s doing the same. Mouths connecting and laying his body over yours to feel every bit of your skin against his that he can manage, your legs parting to wrap around his waist. You gasp at the bump of his tip to your folds, the breathy sound turning into a moan when he grinds down against you, his hands tangling in your hair as he swallows it straight from your lips.

He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he reaches down to grip himself, guiding the ruddy tip to your entrance and holding his breath for the barest of seconds. You nod, unable to form words so wrapped around him, so covered by him, to consumed by him and what he means to you. Twin moans decorate the air as he pushes in, the girth of him stretching you and causing heat to lick at every single nerve.

It’s soft and slow, sensual the way he moves against you. Taking in the moment for all that it is, showing you in the most intimate way what you mean to him as you feel how deep he gets with every thrust. But when you moan out for him to go harder, to go faster – he willingly obliges. The slow roll of his hips shifting into quick snaps against yours, a hand gripping your thigh over his shoulder as he presses down in such a delicious way. You can tell you startle him when you cry out, the head of his cock catching that perfect spot, as your hands scrabble at his shoulders and your nails dig into the freckles skin of his broad back.

Sighing, you take a moment to stretch out your shoulders once you remove the apron from around your neck. It’s well into February and you’ve take back control of the morning shift at the mess hall.

Marsha had done a…well, she hadn’t done the best, but Maria had stepped in the week before you had been due back. To ensure everything was exactly the way you preferred it. It had been a lot of long early morning shifts on top of staying through the lunch service. You had tried to stifle your amusement at Maria complaining about how fast the woman had tried to get through cleaning tasks to get home before the sun set. None of it had been good enough for Maria, knowing that you dedicated yourself to making sure things were not only clean but ‘Olive clean’ as she termed it. Turning the whole dining room and setting up the kitchen for a smooth open the next morning since dinner was normally left to the individual households or the Tipsy Bison.

Part of her punishment was formally apologizing to you and thanking you for your service to the town, but it hadn’t happened. You weren’t holding your breath for it to happen, either. It wouldn’t undo all the anxiety and hesitancy you still had even now interacting with anyone outside of your very small circle.

“Miss Olive?” The sudden voice of someone peeking their head through the swinging door that led into the kitchen caught you off guard. “Oh shoot, I am so sorry! I didn’t meant startle you.”

“Oh, it’s okay, just lost in my own head. How can I help you?”

They step inside, an older couple that comes at the same time everyday, enjoying the quiet before the rest of the residents make their way into the dining room.

“Just wanted to say it was a good meal this morning. We really appreciate all the work you put in providing for the town. Glad to have you back in the swing of things.”

“Oh! Well, th-thank you very much. I’m glad you enjoyed today, had a couple friends urge me to include the pastries.” They nod at you, waving before turning away and disappearing back through the door. A smile graces your lips as you shrug on your coat and wrap a scarf around your neck. The kind words help you to trudge your way through the built up snow from the night before, none of it having melted once the sun rose. The winds are still sharp, piercing in their added chill to the air.

Your home is nice and toasty when you enter, intending to shower the splash of porridge that had gotten you, sinking into your skin even after you had wiped off. But you pause when you catch the scent of fresh coffee and hear a distant grunting coming from your back room. Instincts taking over, you reach for the bat leaning up against the corner behind the front door.

“Hello?” You call out, unsure of who would be in house since Joel was supposed to be on patrol with Ellie. Maria and Tommy wrapped up in council meetings with Macon dropped off at the school to be watched over.

“Jus’ me! Shit-“ A loud thud cuts off Joel’s words and you’re rushing down the hall to find him crouching on the floor, hands busy holding the framework of a shelving unit where it had tilted over. “Hey, sweetheart, wanted to have this done by the time you got back.”

You had torn out the old shelves of the back room, the wall smoothed and painted over a few days ago when you had tried to reorganize everything and one of them came crashing down. Ellie had been over a week or so ago, indulging in your vinyl collection as she did homework while she stayed the night, Joel on an overnight patrol. Apparently, she had shared with him the scary moment that prompted the change to the wall.

“Are you okay?” The words rush out as you move around him to help push the large structure back onto it’s base. He sighs as he stands, knees cracking from the added weight of the wood against him as he tensed and braced against it. When he did, your eyes rove over him to ensure he really was okay. Then the bump on his forehead catches your attention as he looks over to you. It’s red and slightly swollen.

You see the small scrape on his cheek, blood beading up along the thin lines.

“Damn thing just shifted as I was adjusting the line up. ‘m okay, promise.”

But you close in on him, hands cupping his face as you pull it down to you, brushing your lips lightly against the bump as his hands wrap around your waist. Shifting down, you kiss just below the thin scrapes, not wanting to pull at them or irritate them further before reaching for a kerchief from your back pocket and dabbing lightly at the blood. Pulling back to peer into his eyes, you see the almost shy way he’s looking from you to the shelving unit.

“There,” You press your lips to his next, his eyes fluttering shut at the swipe of your tongue against his plush bottom one. He swallows the sound that bursts from your chest as he pulls you close. He tastes like the coffee you had smelled when you first walked through the front door. Humming out an, “All better.”

His grin is bright, the dimple in his right cheek fluttering your stomach as you catch sight of it hidden in his scruff.

“All better.” He parrots before shifting you both so your back is to the wall he had been working on installing the shelving unit against. “But you ain’t supposed to be home yet. Your present isn’t ready.”

“Present? I didn’t ask for anything, Joel Miller.” You crane your head around to try and look at what he was doing, too concerned with him to see what he had been trying to do exactly. But he brought a hand up from your waist to grip at your chin and he halted the movement. “And aren’t you supposed to be on patrol with Ellie?”

“Traded off with Tommy, told ‘im I had something important to do today.”

“Joel…”

“Nu-uh. You’ll have to wait to see it, birthday girl. Macon is due for pick up in an hour,” You huff a laugh as he bends his knees to lift your weight and toss it over his wide shoulder. Hair falling loose around your face, it’s impossible to see anything as he struts out of the room and across the hall to the bathroom. He sets you down atop the vanity counter with a light of his own at how disheveled your hair got.

“So pretty,” He muses quietly as he brushes it from your face and tucks it behind an ear. Heat creeps up your face, still not used to such open compliments from the handsome man. Stepping away for a moment, he fiddles with the shower knobs to get the water going, ensuring it’s the perfect temperature that you prefer. He helps you to disrobe, trailing his lips over every inch of your upper body as it becomes exposed before ushering you into the stall with a parting kiss. We’ll head over to Tommy’s for an early dinner once I’m finished up here, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Dinner was a small affair, Ellie using one of the recipe cards you had made for Joel to attempt her hand at a casserole and a cake. The noodles were far too mushy and the cheese was a little too crusted, but you wouldn’t trade her bright smile as she set it down with a flourish for anything in the world. The cake was a touch better, the frosting smooth in most places and the perfect amount of sweetness to counteract the rich chocolate she had been adventurous in trying out. Two candles were lit atop it after meal, her smile infectious as you thanked her and reached to squeeze her smaller frame to yours.

“Alright, alright. Now make a wish and blow them out!” She was excited, Macon imitating her as he bounced in your lap.

“Macon, want to help me?” He gurgled his agreement, barely able to hold his head up and only for short bursts of time. But he pursed his lips as you leaned closer to the cake and blew. He made a sputtering sound, bubbles forming at the corners of his lips and everyone laughed as he seemed shocked at the smoke lifting from the now spent candles. You looked over to Joel, catching the soft smile he was sporting as he watched on.

But you were both in your home now, having left at the assurance of dinner being cleaned up and the kitchen tidied. You were standing in the back room, taking in the sight of what he had been working on all day. Floor to ceiling shelves had been installed on the wall that was shared with the kitchen on the other side. The supplies you kept for the harvest from the olive trees aesthetically placed in the cubbies.

“Joel, it’s beautiful. Thank you so much.” You felt the heat of him as he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. His deep voice was so close as he hooked his chin over your shoulder. He guided you out of the room and across the hall to your bedroom, waddling his frame around yours as he refused to let go.

“What’d you wish for, sweetheart?” He whispered, as if it was a secret he was hoping to be privy to, your breath hitched as you turned in his arms and snaked your hands around his neck.

“Nothin’, just…for everything to keep on the way it has been. I’ve got everything I need.” You leaned up and kissed him, his hands tightened around your waist, and you giggled as he dipped you a little with his enthusiasm. You could feel his own smile as his lips moved against yours and you breathed out one last laugh before pivoting your bodies toward the bed. He let you, so willing underneath your touch.

The next morning you both rise early before the sun, helping each other dress and then walk hand in hand toward the stables, boots crunching over the thin ice that had formed overnight. Just as you lead Lowry through the gates, Joel astride is own horse, he turns to you with a lopsided grin.

Your eyes trail over him, landing on the worn fabric of his back pocket, the spiral top of his notepad tucked securely inside. It turns out the faded patch was your business after all and you smile at him in return as he speaks.

“So what’s your favorite movie?”

You answer him honestly, earning a huff of slight exasperation for your answer. Turning the question on him as the sound of steady hoofbeats and soft conversation flows over the open plains of your morning route.

previous chapter || end

taglist:

@joelsgreys @morning-star-joy @sawymredfox @pascalpvnk @littlemisspascal

@merz-8 @orcasoul @sabmat @dreamingofleon @keylimebeag

@picassopedro @tuquoquebrute @alejaa-a @jessthebaker @joeloverture

@joelscruff @swiftispunk @tightjeansjavi @undercoverpena @corazondebeskar

@honeyedmiller @novas-dreamworld @slugz-writes-shit @hiroikegawa @dugiioh

@persephone-girl @furiousmushroom @copperhalfcent @lizlil @hiddenbabynyc

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@communism-bitches @slugz-writes-shit @mosssbawls @vie-is-punk

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dividers by the lovely: @/cafekitsune and /saradika-graphics

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comfortless · 9 months ago

Text

Only Other

chapter two of three.

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. historical au (set around 350BC); potential inaccuracies as i am no historian!, König speaks some German here (as opposed to Gothic), mutual pining & worship, mentions of an arranged marriage with a large age gap, slight sexism, descriptions of violence & gore, more groping, allusions to abduction, dubious consent to a nonsexual genital inspection, animal death, minor character death, masturbation.

wc: 10.6k.

<- previous.

Everything feels unsound, a thicket of heavy vine curling it’s way up from the dirt to settle over you, in your belly, hair, anywhere. Sharp thorns and sap so thick you could drown.

Gaius is here, again, poised with his arms folded over his chest. You swallow thickly after you ask him to repeat what he’s just said. Something about eyes and ears between every crevice, beneath every board. He had a litany of reasons to believe you were not the sweet little maiden he had promised a halfway decent life to.

Careful as you thought you were, sneaking past the gate to roll in moonlight with the giant men of myth and smell the beasts and their pelts past the wall… The following morning had been the downfall of bliss. People take note when wolves begin to sniff around their cattle, and it’s no surprise that König was noted doing just that when he brought you back here on his horse with some sort of bloated pride when he named you his ‘Göttin’.

“Disrobe,” Gaius commands for the second time. The voice that comes from cracked lips and weathered jowls never falters: always so self-assured, stern, and where it may have sparked an interest in you from anyone else, here… it only feels vile. He’s the embodiment of the city itself: worn, cracking, splintered filth, left alone to wind and twist out of control.

You imagine he must have taken up the demeanor during his days as a centurion, but your head clouds when you try to recall the many times he’s monologued those times to you. Like his proposal, the dowry and arrangements, all of it feels blurry in your mind. You lose yourself to it when the strap is slipped down your shoulder, your body goading you do as asked for the sake of fewer future headaches.

There are no lemures looming over your shoulders these days, they only guide his hand, his voice. They haunt you in the shape of Gaius, an old hawk that screeches the commands you’ve no place to refuse.

The stola drops to your ankles with a dreadfully slow sweep, a century passed in a bolt of lightning. It pools down at your feet in a river of white. Graciously, Gaius doesn’t prompt you to remove the breast band where the truth of your bout lies embedded in little bruises, the mark of teeth scraped right by your areola in a rolling fit of passion.

Your betrothed boxes you in against the bench until the backs of your knees meet the wood, guides you down with weighty palms until you’re seated: feet pressed onto the seat, knees brought back toward your chest. In earnest, your stomach froths with a displeasure and embarrassment, but this is not the first time that the man had taken to inspect your pussy as if it’s your only worth in the world.

Whichever malady he possesses to make him like this… you could only hope that König did not have it. This weak, old soldier would be nothing short of a toothless dog should your bull take to charge him.

What was a dull glimmer of longing for his safety immediately sours to a wish for his goring when those cold fingers tug your loincloth aside and you’re laid bare for him right there on the bench.

The old creep inspects your cunt as though he were a medicinal woman. His fingers part your parched labia, not so much as a dewdrop of arousal there— completely unlike how your body had only seemed to melt and sing its pleas for König. He doesn’t whisper his pleasures in Latin about how pretty it is down there, doesn’t capture your mouth in a kiss that scorches you right through, only probes and prods at your slit to see if there’s any give.

Of course there isn’t.

It wouldn’t have mattered if you let the entire barbarian camp take their turns with you; you wouldn’t be any more blooming for Gaius. Men like him didn’t have the slightest idea of how to make a lady soft and dewing, they only thought that they did.

You knew with a certainty that this wasn’t normal by any stretch. After the first instance, asking the women nestled against their open windows, humming to sleeping infants curled on their chests only prompted sympathetic stares. “Have you no midwife?,” one had replied, face paled as she looked to you: the pitiable woman who had been inspected like a strange fish just for bartering with a man at his market stall for bread. Gaius had not found a thing then, and you had only begun to doubt his intelligence.

… Did he even know what a hymen was?

You will keep your secrets, and he will always play the fool. That’s just how peace would operate once you did share a roof with him.

“Well?,” you prompt, shifting a little in your seat when his cold fingers move to grip the plush of your parted thighs, examining closer with a low, raspy gasp.

A feint that earns no response.

Seemingly satisfied by a lack of a shimmering semen trail or whatever dullards like Gaius sought, he scowls and backs away, hands falling to his sides. There’s no bulge stirring beneath his toga, either. There’s an absence of anything that would make your relationship seem anything more than some strange transaction.

If anything at all, you have become a kept dove, clipped wings and cooing in a gilded cage. No more a wife than a pet or a pretty, glittering jewel. Something meant to waste away its days possessed.

You didn’t even know why he had chosen you, a lady with no gold, silk, or land to her name. Everything you owned he had given to you. Father, mother… whether or not you even had siblings, you were uncertain. Trying to remember only stirs up another aching in your head and you’ve had more than enough to worry about lately without the added sting,

“You’ve done no wrong.” It’s decided in a cold tone of voice. There’s a belief there, but only because the truth of the matter would make him look entirely the part of the fool that he seemed to play without notice.

“As I said.” You won’t run pleading to Juno for her forgiveness this time, or ever again. For the goddess of marriages and women to bless you with… this. Surely she never favored you very much at all.

You wouldn’t waste your bronze coins on fortune tellers anymore, either.

“Mind your words, girl.” He pats your cheek, feigning an affection that has never been present in this villa, in this city at all. You feel little more than like one of the slave girls— not whipped into submission, their plight was always far worse, but if you looked into their eyes for a moment too long, you knew you would find a part of yourself held there.

You nod your head and carry on puppeting yourself as you always have. Conversation comes stiffly as he wanders about your little home, noting what would need fixing before the night of your wedding, checking your food stores and even helping himself to a bone cup filled with wine. Even with it offered to your lips, speaking with him does not come any easier.

Finally, you utter the words that have nagged at the back of your throat since the day of his proposal, “Why do you want for us to be wed?”

The man pauses as he sets the cup aside, finger drumming at the rim momentarily as he regards you with an upturned brow.

“Your father’s dying wish was for us to be married.”

“Yes, but… who was he?”

“A great warrior.” That’s the only explanation you ever get, even when the confusion paves way to a simmering concern. How could you not remember your own kin? It seemed so unfathomable. Seeing so many large families walk these same streets as you… and yet you only had Gaius, hardly better company than a corpse.

“That’s all that you ever tell me.”

“… You will make a great wife.” He concludes the conversation, gives you a firm kiss on the cheek and leaves you to stew in the nothingness that haunts this place as though it were an ancient tomb.

Your days remain the same, nothing ever changing in your eternal cage that only grows ever-colder, more and more like a crypt.

Stitching, weaving, flowing. The animals needed tending, the marketplace was always bustling, and you’ve stopped listening to the poets. Their words only make you feel colder now.

You have met the things that lurk beyond these walls, and they do not speak of bubbling creeks and your gods; they soak their weapons in you, whisper like the trees and bellow like the mountains, ride their horses into battle without a scrap of armor on their hides. They don’t even fear the lemures or Jupiter’s lightning strikes. Maybe not even the changing seasons; harvests must be plentiful when your home isn’t surrounded by chalked clay and ivory.

You don’t turn to Juno any more, but you do turn to Mars. You pray not for the empire, but for his bastard.

Her altar had been tucked away to a corner of your room, replaced now by a stagnant cup of wine you dutifully purge and refill each night, a stray dagger you had acquired from a thieving child on the street, and a strip of red fabric torn away from an old tunic belonging to your betrothed.

When night comes and the weight of it all curls over your shoulders, you find yourself tugged down to the floor on your knees, whispering great fortune for that arrogant beast who had promised to take you to bed when next you meet. It always starts the same, your voice pleads to Mars, only to dither off to murmurings of a different name.

Though he remains distant, barking and bleeding out prey far from you, some semblance of him remains tucked between your ribs. A small echo, one that only seems to grow into a roar when your eyes close and you dream of wolves and their sharp-fanged promises, wisps of wind through low-hanging branches and not paved streets, dirt giving way beneath your feet.

He holds you in those dreams, whispers to you about your false gods when you stand over a stream, points out the only two in existence amidst the reflection with a curled finger.

In those dreams, you think you hear the voice of Mars, a fluttering leaf on the breeze detached from what he’s come to be: it tells you of thyme and rosemary, a foreign glade, of death and longing, and never does it breathe fire.

Then, you wake, ripped from the Elysian and back to wander Orcus with a heavier weight upon your soul.

— — —

Mars answers your prayers in the late autumn.

You do not wake to the sounds of horses or crackling fires outside, only something quieted and peaceful. The street beyond your window is silent as you stretch out to see what’s stirred you; not an animal or a man lies in wait, only the cool gloom of the moon tucked beneath clouds above.

Time only seems to pass more viciously these months. There’s a wedding to be had when the seasons changed; your yellow-red veil had been stitched with trembling fingers nicked several times over by needle, the lectus had been prepared and set on the first floor of the villa. The red cloth covering the modest couch seemed a threat in itself. You don’t hazard it a glance when you wander out of the door to take to the street tonight.

Dim moonlight does little to guide you, only making each shadow seem to stretch and warp in mocking, uninvited guests to set your shivering heart spinning.

There is just no time anymore, not here.

There, sits an owl atop a roof. Its dark wings stretched out as if to begin another flight, to coo its retribution to the sleeping city. You don’t dare to attempt to capture it, there would be no ritual tonight and no care if some harbinger brought doom to this place. It regards you with shimmering yellow eyes, and you think, for just a moment that you see the same feral look in them that you saw in your warrior. The bird wasn’t always the omen that others may claim, sometimes it’s only a sign.

The son of Mars has returned, his horse is waiting to take you upon its broad back and carry you to the mountains and the sea.

The chill on the breeze only guides each step you take as you clamber through that chipping hole in the wall and flee to the field once again. Strangely enough, the air even feels different out here, colder still but devoid of the shadows that climb and crush. The soldiers usually stationed outside the wall are not present now. You only reason that it was rare that they ever were, anyway, always too bathed in wine and kisses from flighty little women slaves to focus on the scape just beyond.

And there, further out from the opposite bank the stream, you see the glow of a fire.

It was strange to see the Goths had returned before your city’s own soldiers. Perhaps you had slept through their march, tucked away at some vast banquet filled with pillaged riches, the finest of wines and the most fresh of smoked meats before you had even begun to stir. Peculiar thing, being so accustomed to the rituals of men that for the most part you had learned not to even bat an eye. It mattered not, anyhow. What you sought was not another Roman to steal away your aspirations to take you as his woman.

Your pace is light and tentative, feeling the earth sink and mold around your bare soles. The thorns risen up from grass dare not poke you with their spines, the owls lurking in the trees do not chase or call, and the horses in the pastures seem at ease.

Even in a world bathed in black and silver, you feel golden, warmed from temple to ankle by that someone other lurking just beyond reach. The other gods could be condemned— it was Mars at your side all along.

The barbarian camp is in a similar state to when you had first seen it, just as you are with the ends of your gown drenched in water from the stream.

There are fewer to their numbers now. You count only three: two busied away with roasting meat over the fire, one running his blade over a flat stone at the mouth of his tent. You recognize them, somewhat, as you step closer, each just as imposing as the first with thick hair and wild eyes, but there’s no sign of König, not here in the open.

You’re stricken by fear immediately, clouding your head with doubt and worry: not for your own safety, but at the thought that your warrior was left to rot in the forests beyond, struck down by some other barbarian king.

You’re stood at the edge of the camp when your breath grows thin, pulse racing as your veins try in earnest not to burst with panic.

One of the men rises from the fire, gruffs something at you in his mother tongue, a deep rumbling like the rocks of old mountain and the timber of trees: like König. He stands before you, a wild mane of dyed hair atop his head, so deeply crimson and maroon you would even think it had been colored with blood from sheep or man, perhaps both.

He claps you on the back with a strong hand, the shove nearly enough to send your shivering form tumbling to the dirt, before you’re righted with a strong grip on your wrist. Then, he laughs.

“Come. König,” the man barks in his heavily accented voice, tugging at your wrist as if you were a mere calf to herd.

Your panic dulls somewhat, enough to wriggle out of his grip and shoot him a glare you had only previously reserved for your betrothed. Intent on playing the part of some strong yet benevolent noble woman it seemed, as you straighten yourself out and ignore the way that the mud and blades of grass stick right to the dirtied hem of your loose robe.

“He is here?” You ask after a moment, feeling a bit misplaced as this other, less familiar giant stares down at you. His eyes are not blue, but gold when the light of the fire pit illuminated him.

This one does not understand as much as you had hoped, because he only murmurs more incomprehensible words and pushes your forward with a palm placed right between your shoulder blades.

You don’t trip, but you had half a mind to hiss at him then, until you realize he is only leading you towards that same ugly tent from before.

The pelts have been changed out, somewhat. There is less gray now and more brown, hides from deer and boar alike, taken from their months of travel. The maroon fabric remains, layered beneath in such a way that seems to make it only seem more alive and bleeding this time.

“Keep warm.” The man speaks up again, and there is no mistaking the amusement in his voice. Insulting, what he dared to insinuate with those two words, yet… there’s a cloud of fuzzy, warm excitement billowing up between your breasts all the same.

The flap of the tent is held up by your own trembling hand, elation tinged with an anxiety, a clustering song played without harmony in your very bones. Though, it settles so easily when the light of the moon mingles with the candles within the cradle of wool and leather.

König is sat, recognizable from his very being, laden with scars and coarse light fur, vast as he had always been. However, his face has changed. Gone is the bleeding shroud you had seen upon him before: the cloth has been tossed away on the mattress, revealing a face that both chills and heats you to the very base of your being.

His face is not unlike others you have seen, maybe upon gladiators a time or two once the helmets were discarded and the dancing with beasts and men alike had subsided. There are scars there, too, a broken face revealing a menagerie of pain from the bump upon his nose to the chip in his tooth as he smiles. His eyelids are still smeared in darkened mud used to make him seem that much more sinister in battle, streaking down his cheeks not unlike the carmine that tended to use to paint your own.

Those eyes though… they stand out above all else, heart wrenching and sullen, and still, they rise to crease at the outer corners when his stare meets your own.

A man with more polish would have concealed the state of himself from a maiden; turned his face away and covered his nudity in the furs lining his mattress. You’re thankful that König is not like those men. His stare is as open as his body’s own articulation: he only lies back into the bed and beckons you near with a curl of his fingers to his calloused palm.

“I made offerings for you.” To you, but thankfully that phrasing doesn’t make its way out. You take your place on his mattress, carefully placing a palm over his chest just to feel— to touch, to be nearer to your god in some way. The time apart hasn’t been entirely cruel, but ‘kind’ would never suit it well either.

Your touch is answered by a heavy grip around your forearm, a gentle yet demanding tug that leaves you sprawled across him like some tiny animal gripping onto a tree: your head presses against his bare stomach, one hand tucked to your chest while the other is quickly pulled up to meet his mouth. König kisses you, right on your palm in some peculiar sort of reverence.

“Your blessing was enough.” You feel his mouth stretch, the brush of teeth against your flesh as he grins, something you’ve missed.

It’s a ruse; there are winding strips of fabric haphazardly tied over his chest, thick with the stench of iron. The blood is dried, but you could only imagine the state of the wound beneath it. Months upon months of travel with a chest wound… your heart crumbles, struck with worry then.

The seax sits intact, however, propped up against one of the wooden poles keeping the shelter in place. Even sheathed, you could assume with how dutifully the barbarian cared for his blade that it had been cleaned, sharpened and greased to keep rust at bay. Though the benevolence he had coaxed from you had not saved him, a part of you was almost pleased to see the weapon unscathed.

“You’re hurt,” you hear yourself say, far away, out amidst the turning leaves that surely watched him take a spear or a dagger, maybe even an arrow, toward his beating heart.

“Hm…? Men get hurt in battles, meine Göttin,” he says, so nonchalant, as though the fear of dying out amongst the trees and hungry animals did not exist for him at all. “You worry?”

You pull your hand away from him when he playfully nips at your fingertips; even wounded König seems more inclined to bite and make you squeal than settle into this expanse of fur to rest and heal.

Of course you’re worried, men fall to mere scrapes in time: grime coaxes its way in, wounds fester with an almost laughable ease, infection paves way for fever and…

“Take care of me…?” König’s voice comes soft, the softest you’ve heard. Gone now is that boyish, mocking lilt, replaced by something akin to trepidation. Fear for him does not come from the shouting of men with blades held high, but in small whispers begging for affection.

“Sure…”

The ruddy bandages are pried away from his chest by gentle hands, uncurled and left on the dirt floor to the side of the bed. The wound in his chest is not as severe as you had expected, a few centimeters deep, jagged as it curves upward… whoever had done this had not had the opportunity to properly pierce him before the offending weapon had been pried from their hands. Crushed. Followed by what you could only imagine was the attacker’s fretful shrieks when König advanced upon him.

Your fingers brush over the wound, gentle, as you inspect the blaze of red around its edges. There’s no clear indication of infection, but when a clay jar of honey is plucked from König’s belongings and brought to your hands, you dutifully dab the wound in its sweetness.

You tell him how it will heal, using the phrases you’ve only heard from the physicians about the city, failing to mention that you had not tended to someone like this before. He breathes his appreciation in a soft rumble when you wrap his chest in strips of cloth, tightening it comfortably just to tie at his side.

“Did you kill the man who did this?,” you ask once you’ve stripped yourself bare, shed your clothing to lie in a heap with the ruined bandages he had previously worn. Your body rests at his side, arm curled over his middle. A woman’s warmth was necessary to heal a warrior… perhaps it could remedy a forgotten god, too.

“All of them,” he hums into your hair, a whisper of a voice harboring words that should chill you to your very bones. König only appears pacified as he speaks, never minding his own madness, nor the blood caked beneath his fingernails.

You ask him what these men were like, who could have been capable of wounding a man as mighty as himself, and in turn he laughs. Surely, the gash must ache, but his voice never falters when he gathers you in two treelike limbs to pull your body ever-closer to his own.

He tells you that they were familiar, that your men in their dye red tunics held their spears and struck down some of his men but could not hope to best him.

He tells you of the cowardly ambush, how the warriors of your city turned upon his own with shouts and anger after a slave woman had been released. The way the woman spoke… as if she knew more about you than you ever had, how he could not bare to watch her suffer when she even resembled you in some ways: older, but still so very much like you. He had felt killing her captor to return her to the forest was the only way he could keep your favor.

While you listen in a stasis, stuck ridged against him as your mind drifts, pulls memory from the darker corners within your skull, he strokes at your shoulder, presses his nose right up to yours.

The man who had struck him was smaller… weaker, he had not survived König’s first blow, but… There’s a frothing madness in his eyes like the sky threatening storms when he tells you that he could not bear the thought of a man that would think to harm anyone like his goddess finding a way to return. His attacker was ripped limb from limb, body burned with the rest of those that followed his order.

You remain entirely silent, taking in this whispered tale as though it were breathed from the mouths of the gods themselves.

You never needed to pray to Mars, to Juno, to Vulcan…any of them. The embodiment of fear lies as a welcomed presence next to you, stroking along your back as though you were a mere kitten while he breathes this gory story against your lips. The smile returns when he finishes, pets at your jaw as if awaiting a reward for his perceived good deed… and you allow his madness to slip right past your teeth.

The touches brush over you like the featherlight breezes of the past spring, fingertips grazing from your waist to neck, nails leaving lightened stripes over the flesh he carefully claws at, gathering your skin, the meat from your bone, to roll between each pad of his digits. There’s further worship, a desperation to ensure that you are still here as he pants into your mouth, grips at your hip to pull you closer to where he aches the most.

There’s no pelt sprawled over his groin to hide himself from you, no thin linen to protect where he wishes to reach most. All you have is your words, and a thumb delicately rubbing over his bandage. When the kiss breaks, only then do you think to speak.

“When you’re better.”

The man makes his protests, gives his cock a few strokes as he hisses into your ear about promises, the horse, how long he’s dreamt and waited. You don’t need to be convinced, but now… your mind is riddled with what’s occurred in your months apart. Though the tension remains thick and wafting in the air between you, the physical could wait until you’re both sorted.

While you remained stuck and forlorn, struck by longing and misery, he had only found some semblance of meaning for all of what has eluded you, slayed every man who he could envision bringing you- anyone like you- harm, came back with another wound to fold over into a puffed scar.

You’ve only been waiting for your own sentencing.

Your warrior softens when your eyes begin to swim, fragile and overwhelmed as you’re tucked away beneath him. He only holds you, protective with an unwavering grip as the moon sweeps through the tent with its melancholic comfort that finally pulls the tears right from your eyes.

“Meine Göttin…,” he whispers against your temple, before you press your face into a broad shoulder, hiding tears and frail hiccuped sobs. “I prayed only to you.”

The words come barely audible, though they were never truly necessary.

You feel them in every touch, every hurried whisper as he coos his apologies in that keening voice, every kiss pressed over your warmed face when relaxation snares your limbs, and you do bloom further against him. The comfort and adoration is near staggering, taking you in and pulling you under, further below than even the rivers of your dreams and the ocean just out of reach could ever hope to.

As though this were the most natural thing…

The altars of your villa before were mere practice for the worship of lying next to your own deity; bastard son or Hercules, a wolf or a wild boar, none of it mattered.

He sighs, cups your face to kiss you just once more, something far more chaste than what you’ve come to know from him; the small peck to your lips holds more weight than the clatter of teeth and tongue from before. When you begin to drift off to a dream of a glade filled with nymphs where the trees breathe sap that tastes of honeysuckle, all bathed in the glow of starlight, you only feel the need to silently pray for one last thing: that he will never let you go.

— — —

It’s only on the seventh morning that you come to a realization over a breakfast of figs and water from the stream just below the hill— one that you haven’t been home. You feel at home enough here. The stuffy villa seems only a distant memory when you’re seated across from him, the giant who showers you in so much love it feels warmer than the great flames of Vulcan’s own fury.

No one has come to seek you out, either. Gaius had to have had an idea, should he have even bothered to search for you in that now desolate home. The few soldiers you have witnessed on their patrolling across the field never seem to turn an eye to the barbarian camp. You fill your pots with water, taking aid from König’s men, and never once have they turned to you.

Judgment always seemed so swift with all apart from destiny. You reason that this is surely what it must be, a destiny painted high above in the stars on nights where the mist does not curl up to conceal them from your gaze. You watch them sometimes, when König relaxes his grip in sleep: you turn to the outside of the tent to stare up at the expanse of stars and hear the stories of this nameless king from the mouths of the very men who have braved each storm with him.

They tell you in shattered language of stories you know with a certainty must not be entirely true. They range from talk of the hundred wives König supposedly had that he released all when he met you, of the temples built in his name all lined with gold and the names of jewels you had never once heard spoken, of how he had even slain your great god Jupiter… You have always listened with great amusement, wondering just how highly he must speak of you to have his men lie for him so brazenly.

Laughter follows you back to König’s tent each night, waiting to hear the cries of their king expending his love upon you that never come. You tend to his wound, observing its healing as the days come and go, and with each rebirth of the sun, his touch only seems to grow more imploring, his words sweeter than even the fruit held up in your palm.

In the haze of the morning sun spilling in from the parted flap of the tent, his eyes seem alight with an unnatural flame when he pulls you in to seat you upon one of his muscular thighs, far too rowdy for an injured man. You think not to refuse him when he laps at the juice from the fruit that has trickled down your chin.

“I love you.” He professes his devotion in that same pleading voice, an arm curled around your middle to keep you securely in place. Another thing that you never needed the words spoken to know.

You bring a fig up to his mouth, feed him with a kiss to his cheek and a whispered confession of your own. From the moment you saw him tending to his seax on the bank, your heart had become a howling, skittering animal in the cage of your ribs. You murmur words stolen from the poets against his jaw, about love and flowers, the mating dances of beasts and gods alike. With each word spun, he clutches you tighter, echoes them in his mother tongue.

The confession ends in a kiss that leaves you cloudy, aloft, a union of tongue and soft panting that leaves each nerve thrumming rapidly. The bowl of fruit slips from your lap, left to scatter over the ground forgotten.

König lowers you to lie back on the bed, teeth nipping and raking down along the column of your throat, over your pulse… back to your breasts that he caresses in two large palms.

“Not yet,” you remind him. His touch grows more insistent, thumbs pressed to your nipples to roll over them until your back arcs and your thighs tremble. “You’ll open your wound…”

“I am fine,” he huffs when he releases you from such delicious torture. “Let me…”

You can not bring yourself to tell him the true reasons as to why you can not. Not yet. You’re a mere stroll away from the city’s beckoning gates, from the place where you’re set to be wed only a fortnight from now. The mouth of Orcus that will drag you back in and keep you caged away from him… it would be too bittersweet to make your passions clear when your doom still imposes upon you with just a glance outside. If it ever comes… and you silently begged to any greater thing that it never would.

“When you’re healed… when you take me away from here,” you promise.

König listens in his own way. You see a flash of mischief when he separates from you with one final generous squeeze to your breast. This isn’t just the casual acceptance that comes with children being scolded, but an urgency to contend your words, a desire to prove himself buried in those shimmering eyes.

“Meine Göttin thinks that I am weak, hm?”

“That is not what I said.”

“I will show you.”

All at once, König rises from the mattress, casually shedding the bandage over his chest to discard it. You want to protest to whatever it is that he’s doing, but you knew very little of the minds of these men, their proclivities and desires, only that above all his intentions only seemed to be to prove himself worthy of worshiping at your feet, between your parted thighs…

As if to taunt you, the stiffened cock between his own legs bounces, drools when he stands. Your head spins as you force yourself to sit up and look into his eyes instead.

“What are you doing?,” you ask when he gathers his seax from the place he’s left it propped up, followed swiftly bu the pelt he usually donned around his middle with its leather straps and worn, gray fur.

“We will go on a hunt, hm? I will show you how…” He trails off with a grunt as he fastens the straps, finally conceals the pale, proud pillar when the fur comes to cover his groin. The seax follows as it’s tied to his narrow hip, the pommel glinting in low light as he approaches the opening of the tent and gestures for you to follow.

He should not be going on a hunt, and you… still did not even possess a weapon to aid in such an endeavor. Still, the thought of seeing him actually in the midst of a heated battle stills your breath for a moment, spurs you forward to follow along behind him.

The men around the camp speak with him for a time, prattling on in their mother tongue, gesturing out towards the trees with grins brimming with excitement. They all seem enticed by the prospect of felling some noble creature to drag back to their camp, make a true sacrifice for the goddess made mortal that lurks here. König dismisses them with a wave of his hand, clearly intent on being the only one to gift you such an offering.

He barks an order to the man that led you to his tent, and within moments this other man brings a Roman spear to your warrior, recognizable by its intricate engravings and barbed tip. König weighs it in his hands for a moment, glances back at you with a grin that simply screams his satisfaction of holding a trophy pried from the grip of one of your own detestable soldiers.

You follow after him through the dense forest bordering the clearing. The trees have long since shed their summer green, replaced instead by reds and golds, the dead falling to bathe the forest floor in bronze and brown. König walks slowly as to not cause too much sound to pass beneath the weight of his bulky body, encouraging you to do the same in a hushed demand with each crunching leaf beneath your soles.

Finally, he comes to a halt overlooking a small ridge that overlooks a small clearing. The brush and thickets rise high here, no doubt the birthing place of brambles and thorns, ground passive and untouched by all except the animals hiding within trees and bedded down in burrows. One still walks, awake and alert, a brilliant red stag with antlers more vast than even the horns of the bulls sent off to play war with the gladiators.

The creature is stationary, chewing cud with each movement of its dainty little jaw. It’s tail twitches, ears flicking on occasion when a bird swoops too close or the sound of a snapping twig out in the distance echoes through the forest. It’s a beautiful, delicate thing, but still strong and sturdy. The stag looks perfectly at peace here, not noting the wolf that watches over the ridge.

By the time that the deer does catch sight of König, it’s already too late. The arm holding the long spear is already pulled back and raised high. When the creature moves to resume its prance, the weapon is sent spiraling through the air, twisting and spinning in the absence of a breeze like a living thing until its point is found bedded in the stag's protruding belly.

The creature bleats in pain, writhes and kicks as it comes crashing down to a bed of brittle leaves that clamor beneath its weight. You close your eyes when you see the ground painted with blood from its seeping wound, and König begins to descend upon it. There are other sounds that follow, thudding blows in quick succession that leaves very little to your imagination; you’re only grateful he brought such a pretty thing a swift death.

You walk ahead of him on the way back to camp as he carries the animal’s corpse, politely telling him that if you look, you will not eat.

He gives his spoils to the other men once you’ve reached the camp again. They cheer, readying their blades to carve the creature up for a meal of venison and whatever amount of wine remains in their stores. The rations had been cut off since the others had failed to return, it wouldn’t be long until there was no wine left without one of them fetching work for coin within the city and purchasing it himself; still, König ensures that your cup is filled to the rim with it’s tart sweetness, grape with notes of something earthy, a mixture of thyme embedded into it to bless it with scent like a pomander.

You seat yourself in his lap, looking every part of a pretty earthen goddess as he presses his face to your bare shoulder, traces shapes into your hip while you sip from your cup. His men do not stare, either, regardless of your state of nudeness. There’s respect here, embedded into their flesh, their beliefs, and you only feel the part of a noblewoman when you take note of it. You are not just any man’s woman, but their leader’s most revered treasure.

The others pick apart your harvest of flesh, hang the skins to dry for further use, the antlers and bone left in a heap to be cleaned, then sharpened and carved. Your stare is appreciative as you watch them work away, never having seen this side of things from your modest villa. A fire is stoked when the usable meat is peeled away from what remains of the bones, ribs and femur, others that you could not hope to name.

“See?” König chimes as he takes hold of your hip, squishing you closer, tighter amidst the space of his palm. “Not weak..,” he hums into the hair at the back of your neck.

His touching grows more persistent, eager as the tips of his fingers graze your inner thigh; though appeased, you were not keen on the idea of straddling him before the eyes of his men as though you were only a breeding pair of foxes, screeching your passions into the forest for birds and bears to hear. When a throb resounds from his stroking, you wind yourself away to sit at his side instead, jaw resting on his knee and cup raised up to hide your breasts from his field of view.

“I did not say you were. Just hurt.”

He gives an impatient grunt in response, but allows you to linger in this new position, taking to stroke at your face and shoulders instead.

When the meat is cooked to their standards, still bloody and near raw to your own, the men chatter away between mouthfuls and thick swallows of their wine. You try to keep up, forcing yourself to commit some of their more common turns of phrase to mind— obvious yeses and nos, the way that they call one another, the names that would sound strange on your tongue but suit the others all the same. When your expression falls to confusion, König whispers translations into your ear; they’re discussing the Romans… what they will do if their rations are cut entirely, something about a deal struck before your interest summers and you resort to eating the venison you hood in silence.

It is not that you feel out of place, only lost. These men live in a separate world entirely: there is no talk of ironed out politics, organized festivities, of weddings an plotting for farmland. There is laughter here, even song when one of the trio seated across from you and König begins to bark out a loud chorus from a tune that your warrior so sweetly explains to you is about a woman who ventured out to elope with a cave-dwelling bear. Peculiar wild men that they were, you don’t even bother to question how that could ever possibly work.

When the afternoon sinks into the coziness of evening, you walk hand in hand with König back to his tent, and just as with any other night, there are cheerful, foreign goads and tedious little sounds elicited behind you. The wine had you peaceful for a time, but its haze has since passed. Your sheepishness is apparent at the implication, but the wolfish grin König shoots back at his men is anything but.

You know he expects to fulfill his promise entirely— make you his lover, wife, whatever he seems to see you as. That could not happen… as much as you thrum for him with each brush of his warm palm against your backside or upon your face, eternally gazing up at him with your dumb and doting stare.

To your credit: when his gaze crawls over you to take every bare expanse of flesh in, he only sees a beauty that he seemingly can not comprehend. The tells range from the tightening of his jaw, the twitch of each digit when they meet your skin, the way his nostrils glare and eyelids sag. His profession from earlier was anything except just that: it was a truth.

As he strips away his pelt and sets his blade aside, your hands rise to press against his shoulders, forbidding him to go any further than this simple reveal. And you speak true, explaining your exasperating engagement with the foul man who made certain you were spied upon, your distaste for your life within the walls itself, and lastly the marriage that would occur once the seasons did change.

Your eyes feel nothing short of pure liquid when you seat yourself upon his mattress for what you assume would be the very last time. Your voice tapers when you reveal that those very reasons were why you had come to him that night for the horse, why you came back even now.

König listens until your voice is reduced to a somber whisper, broken up by weak sniffles. The flirtation in his gaze is lost, and there’s no grin that splits apart his thin lips. You think that, if he asked you if you felt similarly to him then, that you would break down in full, but he doesn’t.

Instead he hisses something in his mother tongue, a singular word: “Scheiße.” Then, another laugh is coaxed from his throat, the dozenth that you must have heard this night alone. He seems fully unperturbed, unbothered when he descends upon you as if you were nothing more than the very deer he had slaughtered earlier.

“It is fine. Alles gut.” He covers your face in kisses, biting at your cheek when you squirm against him. “I can fight him, hm?”

Stupid… so terribly impulsive and cute. You sigh as if exasperated with him, but envelope him in your embrace anyway.

“I just want to be free of all of it,” you explain in a hushed voice.

“Then we will be free,” he confirms. We. No longer just yourself, and you almost bring yourself to ask if he has truly meant it before you're reminded of his declaration with a swift kiss that punches the air from your chest and leaves you shivering.

You hold him tighter still, fingers weaving into his hair to massage at his scalp and draw back in a tug when his head cocks to nip at your jaw. Again, always, he encompasses you, pulls you down into darkened water that warms and thumbs around you. You lose yourself more and more with each touch, thumb brushing over the pulse of your neck, teeth nipping at your clavicle, the brush of his groin as he rolls his hips to meet the plushness of your thigh.

You ache, cry when he guides your nipple into his mouth, languidly lapping over you until his salivating is evident over your tit. He only grows less patient the more vocal you become; one hand remains played to the side of your head while the other steadily slinks down past your naval, trails off to grasp at you hip and steer you closer before descending lower, where only his blade had dared venture before.

“I have dreamt of this, meine Göttin,” he purrs when he shifts his hips. His cock rests heavy over your thigh, weeping the sheerness of its own demand to paint your flesh. He guides your hand there to palm at his steadily growing arousal, curls your hand around his length and guides it up to stroke.

His chest rumbles his pleasure as he groans against your cheek; the sounds are somehow more surprising than the ones you had heard outside the brothels. Before König… never had you heard a man voice his pleasure, and though it may have been emasculating to some, it only makes you wet, there where his fingers reach to pet once he’s satisfied with the pace you’ve set as you pleasure him.

Your thumb grazed over the flushed tip, smearing the preejaculate that drools from it, his hips buck then. Your own sounds join his chorus when he ghosts a fingertip over the hood of your clit, buried his middle finger into your cunt. The entire ordeal is lazy, lazy as the slow kisses that connect your panting mouths.

With each twitch of your wrist as you milk his cock, you’re met with a finger probing deeper. At some point, one becomes two, a try for three before he draws back and realizes you’re too close to begin to take anymore.

“Tight..,” he appraises in a low voice, tongue lapping over your teeth as you writhe at his side.

You pick up pace at his praise, adoringly offering him your love with quickened sweeps of your hand, of your thumb over the weeping head, until he begins to throb in your hold. König mutters a curse against your jaw as he struggles to keep his hand steady then, bludgeoning you with his fingers, circling your clit until you begin to whine.

The heat builds within you so quickly you begin to see the night sky beneath your eyelids— an expanse of stars, of glowing blooms, and all at once the heat becomes too much. You curl into yourself, struggling to keep the demanding cock in your grip as you grind your hips down upon his hand to ride out your orgasm, bleary eyes and weakened by the intensity of it all you merely muffle your cries against his waiting mouth.

It takes no time at all for him to finish then, thick spurts of white seed paint up from your mound to your belly, coating your fingers in its stickiness. He hurts his teeth through it, intent on stifling the desperate little sounds building up in his throat, kisses you with even more fervor when you bless him with another tug to milk out every last viscous drop as it kicks and throbs in your hand.

He settles briefly, trailing kisses from your jaw to shoulder, then rises to part your legs with a strong grip around each thigh. For a moment, you almost think he’s prepared to fuck you proper, but the thought dissipates when he gathers his own seed over the head of his still hardened cock, settles it against your cunt, and grinds his seed against your salivating hole.

Your whine is clipped and almost pained when he brushes over your clit, hips rising to pull away when you feel the tickling burn of overstimulation. It doesn’t last; satisfied that he has left his spend close enough to your pussy that he may as well have laid claim to it, he crashes down over you, head pressed between your breasts.

König’s breath still comes in a pant while he huffs his affection for you: praises, those three wonderful words again and again. His tone is tender, reverent, as he tells you that he loves you… immediately following it with a stout and crude declaration of how roughly he will fuck you when the time does come.

“Do you mean what you said…?” You find your voice when he finally stops whispering the filth of his fantasies to you, when your cunt ceases its pleading for more. Right now… it would not be as special anyhow. Your fate still lies in the grasp of another, and as much as you wished for it to align in full with him, that simply was not so.

“Ja,” he answers immediately, no hesitation when he commits himself in full to you, the Roman woman who had tamed him down with her silly whims and ache for him. “I will take you to the mountains, the sea, …the stars if you ask.”

You comb your fingers through his hair, filled with mirth as he speaks of such impossibilities. There is no place in the stars for two misplaced lovers, but you don’t dare say that. The things that fill your imaginations would leave even the poets balking, scrambling for the words pretty enough to describe a love so peculiar.

— — —

You had not questioned why they remained, that was your folly.

You had never thought that you would even care should you see the city fall. Though… dread immediately strikes your heart with ice and silver when you’re bolted awake by the sound of shrill shrieks and loud crumbling. There’s a war just beyond the veil the tent provides: loud sounds of heavy feet, shouts, even the clash of metal upon metal if only for a single stuttering beat of your heart.

Vulcan has descended, rode right through on flaming steeds with flame rising from his open maw. You know it with a certainty without even approaching the opening to look. But you do. You do move away from the empty mattress, finding the space where König had slept against you, snoring softly and tugging you closer in your bliss, entirely devoid of any warmth. The air is warm, tinged with the heat of coursing flames, but the bed is cold, frigid like the fear that cinches at your heart and steals the breath from fluttering lungs.

There’s ash in the air, falling like the first snows of winter when you make your way out of the tent, coughing into your hand as it clasps over your mouth and nose. The air is so thick, noxious and darker than even the backdrop of velvety sable marking the horizon. Your eyes track the twisting, feathering pillars of flame as they rise even higher than the wall: a gold and red death.

Shadows scramble across the field— men, women, then the horses, the bulls, that come thundering past. The animals trample and shriek: broken bones, hooves driven through skulls to erupt into mush, leaving twitching, scorched corpses in their wake.

Fire billows up only to fall and rain down, back onto the murderous beasts in some abstract punishment. You watch the puppets writhe and squeal; perhaps your own cries join them, wailing and crying out as all you’ve come to know is engulfed, smothered, destroyed. What the fire does not take, the shattering structures do.

Amidst it all is glee.

There are shouts of men on horseback that come out as the victory roars of men amidst battle, yipping and howling as all is reduced to rubble around them. Your feet do not guide you toward the chaos, they do not bring you to peace either, only far— far as you can go.

The smell alone makes it worse than it ever appeared in your dreaming. Blood, oil, cinder and ash that plummets deep down into your stomach, pushing back up to purge what became of the deer. You feel how that creature must have: alone, terrified, certain that death was biting at your heels. If you had fur it would bristle, antlers would plow through the brush to carry you to safety, but… you do not. You’ve only the ability to gather yourself enough to fall. You descend down the hill in a painful roll as your legs give out beneath you.

You want to close your eyes, to sink into the stream and bid the fire away with desperation alone. When you lower to the grass to wretch, fingers digging into the earth, your gaze snaps back to the scene just beyond the stream.

You know, know dreadfully well that the people here that have managed to escape were hunted down in a veil of inky blackness. The ghouls of myth could not compare to this… This was very real, real as the scent of cooking meat and hair and wood.

And you watch and wait for the fire to burn out, for the animals to cease their rampage and fall back to a calm that never comes.

You stand to your feet, meekly trembling before the wrath and chaos, and you wait with splintering nails clawing at your thighs and unshed tears blurring your vision. There was always a price to pay for freedom, you had seen it time and time again in gladiator pits, monetary and dull, but never this…

And you know the price for yours was paid in fire and vengeance, promised before you ever even had the notion to disappear at all. There was always tension between the Goths and your people. This was bound to come about sooner or later, but the guilt of potentially being the catalyst to it all brings you back to your knees.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring out into the abyss in silenced fear, but eventually all that fills the quiet is the dull roar of the fires still burning and the dull sounds of a horse’s trot growing nearer. Just across the bubbling little stream, untouched by the death beneath the full moon, is König atop his sable steed. The creature huffs just as König cocks his shrouded head, prompting you in his silence to say anything— deliver your blessing, your thanks, your kisses.

Yet, you can not bring yourself to deliver anything but a weak, anguished wail.

The stream is crossed before you’ve even the time to raise your head, limbs gathering you up to pull you against the broad chest of your god in the cruelest tenderness. You feel limp there, atop this frustrated horse, in the arms of the man who had sacked this city. They will come for him, kill him too… You will be alone with nothing and no one, and stupidly, you find yourself longing for the comfort of calling to Juno in that bedroom you would never see again. All of this just for pleading for the very horse you now perch upon.

He lets you cry as holds the reins in one hand and carries you away from this desolation. The horse walks further than you have ever even seen. The stream before the barbarian camp is not the only, there are orchards and glades and fields of tall grass even further beyond it. You take in the beauty as the city becomes a glimmering speck far behind you.

König only remains silent, stroking your back with his free hand, so lovingly and gentle you find it almost impossible to believe him capable of such cruelty. Your mind is tired, limbs weighty and chest aching from breathing in so much smoke. You do not even realize your exhaustion until you find yourself in a fitful sleep.

There are no dreams, no wonderful comforts, only slow breaths and pained whimpers.

When you do wake, the sun has risen in full.

You’re lying on your back amidst withering grass, a pelt thrown over your body and a figure sat at your side. There’s no longer the stench of smoke, no drab gray clouds hanging over your head. The air is light and tinged with the tartness of buckthorn. There are white, puffy clouds hanging up in the vast blue of the sky, and as you blink, a thumb moves to stroke at your cheek. Soft, so soft and even tentative when it rises to your temple.

“You should have slept longer.” König’s voice comes, not reprimanding, but in a gentle surge of breath. He sounds as exhausted as you still feel.

You’re angry… but you know not why. It feels performative, almost, when you shove his hand away. You want to wail for what you’ve lost, but that voice never comes. Gaius? A home you never liked? The lectus that would be used as a stand to consummate a marriage you had begged to avoid for months on end? What was lost?

“You are going to die.” Your whisper comes strained, tight and tinged with your own misery.

“You worry for me again?”

You shake your head at that, fierce as you turn on your side and away from him again. The dying grass digs into your flesh beneath the fur, scraping like claws, like König’s very touch.

“We are not going to die, little one,” he continues as he moves closer to you, trying to gather you up into his arms in an act of comfort. Your tension rigidly leaves you, though you try to force yourself to remain closed off, it does not happen. You mold against him when he lies at your back, hand splayed over your stomach.

“I never said we. Just you,” you huff. Your hand meets his wrist as his thumb begins to stroke at your naval. The desire to push him away again only dissolves when he winds out of your grip to take your hand into his own, forced lower to feel the cold earth and the warmth of each digit beneath your touch. “They will hunt you down.”

“Then I will die at your side.”

You don’t respond to that, finding his desire to further prove whatever this was entirely incomprehensible now. It is not endearing, you force your mind to reason. This man was more than just tedious at times, but dangerous to… To burn an entire city on a whim then curl against you like this… You whimper, keening and sorrowful as you squeeze your eyes shut— force the macabre thoughts out.

“You are like me,” König continues, a low rumble as he lowers his head to press his cheek to the side of your neck. Even amidst the chill of winter, he’s so warm, so soothing, enough to make you melt like wax from candles… perfumed by his own sweat and the ash he left in his wake, so earthy and lofty all the same. “Kleine Göttin…”

“No… I’m not.”

“You come from the mountain,” he urges with a kiss to your shoulder. His grip around you becomes more insistent with each muttered word, the pads of his fingers pressed further to dimple your skin. “The slave woman told me so.”

You didn’t know the woman he spoke of, you didn’t know anyone still living apart from himself and his men. You want to yell, to drill it into his very skull with your words, but even more than that, you want this comfort.

You want to feed him figs, allow his tongue to sip the wine from your own, and to fall asleep against him with his breath tickling at your scalp. More, to share the life with him you once promised to a deceased man buried in ash…

Truth be told you were not even sure of your standing, Roman or barbarian… Though you had never told him that, his resolute tone leads you to believe all of it. You had always longed to bathe in rivers rather than crowded bathhouses, to crest the tops of mountains and taste fresh honey on your tongue… The titan promises you all of those things and more with his tight hold and in a purred, breathy, “I love you.”

All that you could not prevent dissipates in a plume when you twist around to bury your face against that chest, curl your fingers into his hair and breathe out your resistance in its entirety. The most pitiful of surrenders.

#könig #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #konig #konig x you #cod fanfiction #f: only other

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