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#if death is only a dream then the question of if there ever was an Endless would come up

gay-dorito-dust · 3 days

Note

( ´∀`) I am possibly missing where it says your requests are open or not. I apologize if it is.

If it interests you (your batfam posts bring me joy) how would the boys Jay, Dick, Damian (whoever else) would react to only being able to tell the truth for a day? Like they confess all the things they like about their crush, compliment their family, admit to disliking a dish Alfred made (GASP <(｀^´)> ).

Thank youuuuu~

Jason wore his heart on his sleeve, he lets anyone knows what’s on his mind with zero filter, so him being forced to be truthful was no different to how Jason actually was on a day to day basis.

So at first he doesn’t think anything was out of the ordinary until you asked him a question one day regarding your love life;

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to find anyone here Jay, I mean what do I have to do to find somebody.’

‘You don’t have to do anything because everyone else is the problem, not you.’ Jason found himself answering before his mind could find an appropriate response without crossing the boundary of your friendship. ‘They obviously don’t see perfection when they see it because they weren’t looking at you and I find that insulting because who wouldn’t look into your eyes and see forever within them?.’ He finishes and was quick to cover his mouth with his hand, worried that he might’ve said too much for you.

‘And do you see forever in my eyes jay birdie?’ You asked softly, leaning towards him.

Jason drops his hand from his mouth. ‘Hell yeah I do, amongst many other things because you’re worth every heartbreak I’ve ever had in the past because being with you would be my life’s greatest dream come true.’

The next time Jason spoke truthfully was when Dick came to visit and it was after a long, long night of patrol and sleep was at the forefront of his mind, causing it to fog as he let it slip on what he truly thought of Dick.

‘You’re my brother, we may not be related by blood but no one has stood in my corner and was so prepared to be in the wrong then you Richard, and for that I thank you. You really are the best of us.’

Needless to say when he found out that Dick had the whole thing recorded, he wanted to strangle the fucker and make his death look like an accident. Sibling things.

Now, Jason -much like any other- loved Alfred’s food and would never raise an issue over it as he’d pretty much eat anything with his bottomless stomach. So even if he didn’t like one of Alfred’s recipes more self then others, he would say it in the most politest way possible. He loved that kindhearted man too much to ever say anything in regards of the food he’s made him since he was a young lad.

Dick would find peoples expressions to him being honest and truthful funny, but at the same time would be somewhat relieved with this turn out, as he wouldn’t have to force himself to be truthful just to get people to stop asking whether he was alright or not.

He knew he wasn’t always open and honest with his innermost thoughts and feelings at the best and worst of times, knowing all too well of how that would cause lead to the occasional argument of two down the line for himself, but he was never really given the space to figure it out himself on his own time.

So when he found himself speaking the truth to just about anyone, it was as though his heart was exposed for all to see it beating and all. It was as though all of his innermost thoughts regarding everyone in his life was being broadcasted to anyone and everyone with ears and the ability to hear it.

‘You’re so good with Hayley you know.’ Dick blurted once when you were playing with Hayley, stoping as soon as you heard him say this, allowing for Hayley to snatch the toy from your limp hand and lie down elsewhere to amuse herself with the squeaks that the toy would make every time she bite down on it.

‘What?’ You asked.

‘I mean it, you’re really good with Hayley and you’ve been nothing but an amazing person with a pretty smile and addicting laugh.’ Dick adds as he held his head in his hands as he looked at you with a soft look upon his face. Dick wasn’t still that bothered that you knew how he felt, it was bound to come out sooner or later and would take it in stride, even if he didn’t have control over what had just came out of his mouth just now.

The next time Dick finds himself being truthful was when he visited Jason after a long night of patrol and in the midst of a silent period Dick then said;

‘You’re amazing Jason. Bruce doesn’t know what he’s talking about, he never did when it came to us Robins, using one of us as a frame of reference for everyone else isn’t fair but you are my friend, my brother and I am so proud of you. You are not a failure, you’re anything but one.’ Jason sat silent the entire time and after Dick had finished he made a noise from the back of his throat, a small smile gracing his face as he looked out over the streets of Gotham, reaching out to pat Dick on the shoulder and said. ‘Thanks man.’

Dick always cared deeply for Jason, seeing him as his little brother and would gladly stand in his corner no matter what, even if he was wrong because that was what older siblings did. Dick never shied away from how deeply he felt agonising pain when he though he had lost his little brother and confronted Bruce about the entire thing, enraged and grieving simultaneously. Now whenever he caught wind of what Jason was doing as red hood, he can’t help but smile knowing his brother was doing just fine, but would always make it known that he was just a phone call away.

Dick knew Alfred wasn’t going to bite his head off for saying that he didn’t like something but would instead ask how he could better it for his taste. So even if Dick did say anything about one of Alfred’s recipe, he knows Alfred would be more than understanding. However it was an unspoken rule amongst him and his siblings that they’d eat anything and everything Alfred made them without a single complaint unless it was necessary.

They all love that man too much to ever say anything negative about his cooking.

Damian would hate being forced to speak nothing but the truth.

He’d really hate it as being blunt and opinionated was how he always was and so being open and honest wasn’t his forte and it felt wrong in a sense due to it feeling as though he was put in a position of vulnerability.

He hates it even more when he finds himself confessing to all the things that he liked and or found remotely interesting about you whenever you were near, it felt as though someone was pupating him to say these things when deep down he knew they were how he genuinely felt but was too deep in denial to admit this to himself.

‘How do I look?’ You innocently asked.

‘Breathtaking like you always do so seamlessly.’ Damian replied without hesitation before looking up from his sketchbook once realisation hit him, only to see that you were already looking at him with wide eyes.

‘You mean that?’ You said, wanting to know whether or not you heard him properly.

‘Of course.’ Damian said and when he felt his mouth open, he tried to close it but it seemed as though his body had a mind of his own as he found himself continuing to speak. ‘On many occasions have I spent thinking you were naturally breathtaking and have thought so for many more on top of that to the point you are my one sole muse.’ He finished and it wasn’t long before you were planning your first date together.

Damian knew this wouldn’t be the first time he was going to be forced to speak the truth and the second time came in him actually complimenting Tim on his smarts and combat prowess, something that he’d rather drink pure poison before ever admitting out of pride.

‘Tt. Don’t sell yourself short Drake, you’re a competent Robin and an exceptional detective.’ He’d say when it was just him and Tim in the Batcave and immediately regrets it and makes him swear to secrecy, obviously this doesn’t last long after the period of speaking truthfully wears off and Damian goes back to being his blunt, straightforward, unapologetic self.

Damian loves Alfred’s cooking, but all of his cooking weren’t Damian’s favourite and while he wouldn’t hesitate to tell others how he felt, he didn’t feel the same when it came to Alfred’s cooking despite the man being nothing but kind and open minded.

So if he ever were to speak about his least favourite food Alfred had ever made and even when Alfred was more then accepting of his opinion, Damian would try to help Alfred however he could in return for his comments about his cooking. Alfred was probably one person he’d never want to hurt with his words.

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valkyriexo · 16 hours

Text

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 4 - Smarter Baby, Smarter

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ;Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNIᑉ³ EPISODE WARNINGS; Nightmares

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 3K

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Episode 4! So close.. yet so far...

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me. Remember, none of this is real. It is a story. It is fiction. You can choose not to read it if it will make you uncomfortable.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

The days that followed were filled with a heightened sense of vigilance and an ever-present undercurrent of dread. Chan, determined not to leave you alone during such a precarious time, had practically moved in, bringing along a few essentials and making himself a constant presence in your home. His comforting presence was meant to provide you with a sense of security, but instead, it only served to magnify your growing paranoia.

At night, sleep became an elusive luxury. Your dreams were plagued with nightmares, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last. You found yourself running through dark, endless corridors, the echo of your footsteps growing louder as the pursuer drew nearer. Their heavy breathing seemed to echo through your bones, sending chills down your spine. You could feel their gaze, cold and invasive, piercing through the darkness as they closed in on you. Each corner you turned offered no escape, only deeper shadows and the suffocating sense of impending doom.

Each time you jolted awake, drenched in sweat and heart pounding, you found Chan by your side, his concern palpable. "Are you okay?" he'd ask, his voice gentle yet filled with worry.

You'd nod, forcing a smile to reassure him, but the fear never truly left your eyes. "Just a bad dream," you'd reply, your voice trembling slightly. The truth was far more sinister, though. Even in the safety of your home, you could never shake the feeling of being watched. Windows felt like portals for prying eyes, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce an intruder's presence.

During the day, Chan's presence was a double-edged sword. While his company was comforting, the gnawing suspicion that had taken root in your mind made it difficult to fully relax around anyone, even him. The stalker's intrusion had cast a shadow over everyone in your life, and you couldn't help but question their intentions.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the boys did not stop coming around.

Most of them, at least.

There was a noticeable shift in their behavior. Instead of the usual group gatherings where everyone showed up at once, it was now one or two of them at a time making appearances, checking in to ensure you were okay. Their visits were staggered, almost as if they were trying not to overwhelm you, but the absence of the usual camaraderie only heightened your sense of isolation.

Han and Felix were the most frequent visitors, their cheerful demeanor contrasting the underlying tension. They brought food, shared jokes, and tried to lift your spirits, but even their presence couldn't dispel the unease. The dynamic had changed, and you couldn't help but wonder if they sensed something too.

One afternoon, as you sat in your living room pretending to read a book, your mind kept drifting back to everything that had happened. The pages blurred before your eyes as your thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memories and moments that seemed to lead nowhere. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but the letters swam together in an incomprehensible jumble

From the kitchen, you could hear the sound of a knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board. Seungmin was there, slicing up some fruit for a snack. Chan was helping him, occasionally stealing glances at you, his worry evident despite the lighthearted conversation he was trying to maintain with Seungmin.

You forced yourself to turn a page, but the words remained incomprehensible. Your gaze involuntarily shifted to the kitchen. Seungmin looked so... normal, so innocent as he carefully arranged the fruit on a plate. Yet, the nagging suspicion in your mind refused to be silenced.

Where was he?

"Hey, you okay over there?" Chan's voice broke through your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see Chan leaning against the counter, watching you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just trying to distract myself."

Chan's eyes narrowed slightly, his intuition picking up on the unease you couldn't quite hide. He exchanged a glance with Seungmin, who was now looking at you with a worried expression as well.

"Want some fruit?" Seungmin offered, holding up the plate with a hopeful smile. "it might help you relax."

"Want some fruit?" Seungmin offered, holding up the plate with a hopeful smile. "Thought it might help you relax."

You shook your head gently, offering a small, apologetic smile. "Thanks, Seungmin, but I'm still full from breakfast. Han and Felix brought over food this morning. I'm not really hungry right now."

Seungmin's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it with understanding. "No worries. If you change your mind, it's here."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture despite your lack of appetite. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew you couldn't continue to dance around the issue any longer. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, and you needed clarity.

Chan's eyes lingered on you, sensing the turmoil beneath your calm facade. As Seungmin turned to wash his hands at the sink, Chan leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You glanced nervously at Seungmin's back before meeting Chan's eyes. "I don't feel safe right now," you murmured urgently, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have a bad feeling... it's him."

Chan furrowed his brow in concern, his eyes searching yours for clarity. "Him? Seungmin?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief and concern. "Why do you think that?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of your suspicions heavy in your chest. "I don't know... it's just a gut feeling," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But everything... it all seems to point to him."

Chan's expression darkened, his worry deepening as he glanced over at Seungmin, who was still engrossed in his task at the sink.

"No, it can't be him," Chan replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That wouldn't make sense."

But before he could continue, you felt a surge of determination. The weight of your suspicions had become too much to bear, and you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach any longer.

"Seungmin," you called out, your voice louder than you intended, causing him to turn around, his hands still wet from washing.

"Y/n.." Chan said trying to stop you.

Ignoring Chan's attempt to intervene, you locked eyes with Seungmin, the intensity of your gaze cutting through the air like a blade. "Seungmin," you repeated, your voice firm and unwavering despite the tremor of uncertainty that lingered within you.

Seungmin's expression shifted, a hint of confusion flickering across his features as he took in the gravity of your tone. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "I need to ask you something," you began, your voice steady as you fought to keep your emotions in check. "Have you been following me? Watching me?"

Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides. "What? No, of course not," he protested, his voice tinged with indignation. "Why would you even think that?"

"Why have you been acting so strange lately?" you replied, your voice firm as you confronted Seungmin. "You have evidence pointing against you… I can't ignore it."

His eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "What evidence?" he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

"I think you're the one who's been stalking me," you blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush. "Every time something happens, you're somehow involved or conveniently not there."

Chan stepped in, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, let's take a step back here," he said, looking between you and Seungmin. "We need to handle this carefully."

Seungmin's face went from shock to hurt. "You think I'm stalking you?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I would never do something like that. I'm your friend."

You could see the pain in his eyes, but the fear and paranoia that had been building up inside you couldn't be ignored. "Then explain the letters, Seungmin.

Seungmin nodded, his expression serious. "I want to clear this up too. I don't know why you think I'm involved, but I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm not."

"One thing at a time, Y/N," Chan interjected gently, trying to keep the situation from escalating further.

"When I received that first letter, it was Seungmin who handed it to me," you explained, your voice shaking slightly.

Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "the letter with the gift basket? Minho handed it to me," he began. "He found it outside the front door and thought it might be important, so he gave it to me to give to you. I had no idea what it was at the time."

You frowned, trying to process his explanation. "And what about the second letter? You came over to give your condolences for my friend's passing, and that's when I found it."

Seungmin nodded again. "I came over because I wanted to be there for you. I had no idea there was another letter until you found it. I swear, Y/N, I have nothing to do with this."

Chan looked at you, his expression thoughtful. "It does make sense...."

You felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be that your paranoia had gotten the better of you? "And what about when the letters went missing, and the third one arrived? You weren't around then either."

Seungmin nodded, his expression resolute. "I was doing a photoshoot that day. I have pictures and timestamps to prove it. I can show you the evidence right now if it helps."

Chan looked at you, his eyes steady. "Let's see the photos, Seungmin. If you're telling the truth, this will clear things up."

Seungmin quickly pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery, finding the pictures from the photoshoot. He handed the phone to Chan, who examined the images carefully. The timestamps matched the dates and times you had noted.

Chan turned the phone towards you, showing the pictures. "He's telling the truth, Y/N. These photos prove he wasn't here when the letters went missing or when the third one arrived."

You stared at the photos, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. Seungmin's explanation seemed plausible, his earnestness evident in his words and actions. The evidence was clear, but the fear and paranoia still gnawed at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt your body begin to tremble. The reality of the situation, coupled with the weight of your suspicions, was overwhelming. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I just want this to stop," your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been so scared....I don't know who to trust anymore."

Seungmin's eyes met yours, filled with sincerity. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Please, believe me."

Your vision blurred as tears spilled down your cheeks. You took a deep breath, trying to absorb the reality. "I… I believe you, Seungmin. I'm sorry for doubting you. It's just… this whole situation has made me so paranoid."

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression softening. "I understand. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same way. We're all just trying to protect you."

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden noise made you jump, your heart racing as a fresh wave of anxiety washed over you. Your hands shook as you reached for the phone, your fingers trembling as you picked it up. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

With trembling fingers, you opened the message. The room seemed to close in around you as you read the words, your breath catching in your throat. The message was brief but chilling, a stark reminder that the nightmare was far from over.

You gasped, dropping the phone as if it had burned you. Chan and Seungmin were immediately at your side, concern etched on their faces as they reached out to support you. "What is it?" Chan asked urgently, picking up the phone and reading the messages.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed as he read the message, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Well, at least they've gone digital. We're saving trees," he remarked, attempting to inject a note of levity into the tense atmosphere.

Chan shot him a withering look, his expression grave. "Seungmin, not the time," he chided, his voice tinged with urgency as he turned his attention back to you.

The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in.

Seungmin's voice carried a tone of frustration as he gestured to his phone. "I just want to point out that my phone is nowhere near me. It can't be me sending those messages."

Chan nodded in agreement, his brows furrowed in concentration. "He's right. Whoever this is, they're trying to frame him."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you stared at the cryptic message on your phone screen. "So, what do we do now?"

Chan took a deep breath, his expression determined as he reached for the phone. With a steady hand, he composed a message, his fingers flying across the screen.

"I'll handle this," Chan declared, his voice resolute. "We need to find out who's behind these messages."

He pressed send, and you held your breath, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for a response. You watched anxiously as the seconds ticked by, each moment stretching into eternity as you waited for a reply. Finally, the familiar chime of an incoming message broke the silence, and Chan's eyes darted to the screen.

You exchanged a worried glance with Chan, the gravity of the situation sinking in deeper. The cryptic message only added to the sense of unease that hung heavy in the air.

"What game?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question lingered unanswered, the sender remaining elusive.

Seungmin's jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes darting between you and Chan. "We can't just sit around waiting for them to make a move," he asserted, his tone edged with determination. "We need to take action."

Chan nodded, his expression serious. "We need to figure out who this is and why they're targeting you."

Just as he finished speaking, your phone buzzed again. The three of you looked at it in unison, a sense of dread creeping over you.

The same message from the same unknown number appeared on the screen.

Seungmin's frustration deepened. "They’re just trying to rattle us," he said through gritted teeth. "We shouldn't give them the satisfaction."

Chan agreed, but as he started to speak, your phone buzzed again. The same message repeated:

"It's like they’re not going to stop until we do what they want," you said, anxiety making your voice tremble.

Chan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Stay calm. We need to think this through."

But the phone buzzed yet again. The same message and link. The sender was relentless, bombarding you with the same demand over and over.

"Play the game."

Seungmin shook his head, his frustration giving way to a more resolute expression. "Maybe we should see what’s behind the link. But we have to be careful. It could be a trap."

Chan nodded. "We’ll open it on a separate device, one that’s not connected to any personal information. We need to see what we're dealing with."

You watched as Chan pulled out an old laptop from the closet, one that hadn’t been used in ages. He connected it to a public Wi-Fi network and opened the link, your heart pounding in your chest as the page began to load.

The screen flickered for a moment before revealing a dark, ominous website with a single line of text that read:

"Welcome to the game. Let’s see if you’re clever enough to survive."

You all exchanged glances, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. There was a shared understanding, an unspoken agreement that you had no choice but to see this through. With a nod from Seungmin and a deep breath from you, Chan pressed the "Play" button.

The screen transitioned to a new page, revealing what looked like a puzzle.

"Is this a joke?" Seungmin said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"It doesn't look like it," Chan replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the screen.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Let's just get through this. We need to see what they're after."

The first puzzle appeared simple, but it required careful thought and teamwork. You, Chan, and Seungmin huddled closer, your minds working in unison to decipher the clues. Each solution unlocked the next puzzle, the difficulty ramping up with each new screen.

Seungmin leaned back, his brow furrowed. "It looks like this is a series of puzzles. Each one is more difficult than the last."

Chan nodded, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "They’re testing us, pushing us to see how far we can go."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "But why? What’s the goal here?"

"I don’t know," Chan said, his voice steady despite the tension. "But were going to have to play the game to find out."

With a shared glance, you all knew there was no turning back. You had to see this through, no matter the risks.

"And play the game we will," you replied, a steely determination in your voice.

With that, you all turned your attention back to the laptop.

The sender may have set the rules, but you were determined to control the outcome.

Play the game

EP.5 - Draw me like one of your french girls

*·˚ᑉ³ Taglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

*·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

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yandere-paramour · 16 hours

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First Time with Vivien - Part 2

You pull him into a kiss, tasting yourself on him, answering his question without words. Vivien returns the kiss, reaching down to circle your hole a few times before trying to push a finger in. Your orgasm has considerably relaxed you, and with a generous amount of lube and some patience, he is able to get two fingers inside. He peppers your face in kisses, asking you to please "Relax for him" and let the tension leave your muscles as he works to stretch you gently. As much as he would like to feel your tightness wrapped around him, your comfort comes first.

When he is able to fit three fingers inside with little but a twitch of mild discomfort from you, he deems you ready. He puts on a condom (that was a non-negotiable for you) with a quick and practiced motion, also taking the liberty to slather himself with lube, just in case. Pulling out a smaller pillow you never noticed he had, he wedges it under your hips for a better angle.

He rolls over on top of you, his cock safely nestled between you two. He uses one hand to position himself and ensure proper aim, and the other to keep his body weight off you. He asks if you're ready, looking you straight in the eyes. He wants to watch your face as he enters you.

When you confirm your readiness, he gives you a quick kiss and slowly starts to push inside. Vivien stares at you as you throw your head back, moaning. Judging by how much his instincts wanted this, he knew it would feel good, but he never expected how warm you would be, how wet and slick it would be, how tight you would feel around him. No desperate middle-of-the-night thrusting into his own fist, no pocket pussy, no wet dream that ended with him awake, sticky, and yearning would ever compare to this, being nestled firmly within his Darling, his angel, his sweetheart, the reason he finds the courage to face the world each day.

The thought of this brought tears to his eyes, and a few ended up rolling down his face to splash onto your chest. This is all so much for him and he doesn't know how much more joy his heart can take. He licks the tears away, the two salt solutions mixing into a briny fluid he will never get enough of.

His thrusts start slow and gentle, but soon he can't take it anymore. The soft, loving strokes turn fast and deep, and you can feel every one of his seven inches. Whenever he pulls back, at least one inch of him is sheltered safe and sound inside of you at all times, making sure he can use his hands to stimulate you or hold your hand, whichever he thinks is best. This is what he needs, the stimulation he craves, and from the looks of your moaning and the way you lock your legs around his waist, you needed this too.

He babbles like a fool, telling you how sexy, how divine, how you were perfectly made to fit his cock, just like a lock and key. He spills about how long he has waited for this, and how all those nights following you home to make sure you got inside safely were worth it. He tells you he would die and kill for you, and that anyone who threatened you would die an agonizing death. He swears on his life that he will be a loving and attentive and selfless lover and husband to you, and his tears fall down his face with the rhythm of his hips as he fucks you with everything he has.

Vivien is a healthy young man with incredible stamina. His balls are heavy and swollen, aching to finally get some release, but he won't allow it. He angles himself perfectly to hit the sweet spots inside you, ensuring that you come on his cock at least twice before he gets anything for himself.

When he's ready, it only takes three deep strokes for him to explode. He lets out a strangled moan/shriek as he comes, trying as hard as he can to empty himself deep inside you. You were serious about the condom and he respects that, but that doesn't mean he can't fantasize about your belly swollen with his child. His seed is white and thick, and he produces so much that the condom is almost full to bursting. A quick feel below his shaft begets shock on your end; he's still not empty after all that.

He is careful when he pulls out; he knows after all that vigorous activity that you might be sore. He gently extracts himself from the condom before tying up his swimmers and rolling them under the bed with suspiciously crusty socks to deal with later. He is covered in sweat and still breathing hard, but the hearts in his eyes are firmly trained on you as he lays next to your tired form.

He cups your face in his hands, trailing his fingers over all the marks he made. With tears in his eyes, he asks if he hurt you, if he should've been more gentle for your first time, if you enjoyed it. For the 70th time, he thanks you for the opportunity, but this time, looking up at you with watery, pleading eyes, he adds something about hoping to receive the opportunity again someday.

His face lights up when you say yes, and more tears run down his face. He snatches another condom from the 36-ct box on his nightstand and rips it open with his teeth.

This man, the man you love, the man with hair pointing in every direction, your fluids dried around his mouth, and his cock starting to stand at attention once more. He is looking like that feral animal once again, like a beast ready to flip you on your stomach and take you from behind. Then he gives you that hopeful smile, and he is Vivien again, and he asks "How about now?"

You are covered in marks that will be difficult to hide from coworkers, leaking so much lubricant that it is starting to pool onto the new sheets, and worn out after three orgasms back to back. You want nothing more than a hot bath and some sleep, but something in those worshipping red eyes that look at you only with adoration makes you say "Yes."

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lightdancer1 · 2 years

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That said I'm also expanding work on the whole idea of 'Death as a Dream'

And in particular both the backstory and the way this one ends up working out. An obvious challenge with this narrative would be that if Death was a dream, when Dream was captured and the Dreaming fell apart and Dreams were weakening with them (which is IMO exactly why Jessamy died to begin with) then Death would see her powers fall apart too. This could either create a greater crisis if it went for the bad route where actual Endless Death died a long time ago and the being people think is the Endless is just a dream created in her memory.

Or it becomes a twisted kind of Kafka comedy where the Endless is actually living retired and was the first one to retire long, long before Destruction....who runs into her on a beach and the two set out to enjoy the post-titles life together. The dream has her power as essentially a Wizard of Oz illusion.....but the flip side of that is that in this case in a technical sense Burgess did get the right figure for the last 3.5 billion years of the universe's history......and that Desire's motivations are slightly broader.

Due to Death essentially faking her own demise and sodding off to live her own life, the other Endless believe Dream orchestrated their sister's death to hijack her realm and add it to his own. They walk on eggshells around him and even Destruction believes it until he finds his actual sister on that beach and then has a moment of rage 251 million years ago that leads, on Earth, to the event called the Great Dying....and then 300 years ago he joins Death after all that time.

And then Desire and Despair have a gift-wrapped opportunity to get vengeance for the sister they think is murdered.....and as the faux Endless's powers fall apart and dying doesn't they realize Death was never dead the entire time, and thus they end up being the ones stuck in a 'what the fuck just happened' while Dream-Death goes to find the genuine article, who decides she's going to rescue her brother after he's spent 20 years in the fishbowl and meaning she might have to retake her title after all.

And THAT is the basis of the family dramas and clashes here, as Death's ability to hide from Destiny means even HE thought she was genuinely murdered and usurped and her resurrection, in a sense, creates as many problems as it solves.

#death as a dream au #has a two edged sword factor #if death is only a dream then the question of if there ever was an Endless would come up #if she was only a dream then Burgess capturing Dream unravels the idea of death and dying #that would be the bad fork of the AU #where Death of the Endless the actual concept died a long time ago and Dream created the dream in her memory to act in her stead #meaning a full-scale illusion and guaranteed 'creation turns on creator' scenario #in that case it might not be the Corinthian that seeks to exploit Dream's capture or to create it #it could end up being Death-as-a-dream who discovers she was lied to about the nature of her existence #and takes it poorly #hence the bad fork #the good fork is that Death got her ideal world and was free to quit being an Endless and actually lived life for 3.5 billion years #and then Roderick Burgess demolishes her nice retired life #and she's pissed #and then the rest of her family reacts to her faking her own death and fucking off from all of them very poorly #except Dream who knew the entire time and set it up with her #because he gave her her own greatest dream in a very literal sense

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bixels · 19 days

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Learning that fans hated Applejack and called her "boring" is crazyyy to me because I genuinely, unironically believe AJ's the most complex character in the main six.

Backstory-wise, she was born into a family of famers/blue collar workers who helped found the town she lives in. She grew up a habitual liar until she had the bad habit traumatized outta her. She lost both her parents and was orphaned at a young age, having to step up as her baby sister's mother figure. She's the only person in the main gang who's experienced this level of loss and grief (A Royal Problem reveals that AJ dreams about memories of being held by her parents as a baby). She moved to Manhattan to live with her wealthy family members, only to realize she'll never fit in or be accepted, even amongst her own family. The earlier seasons imply she and her family had money problems too (In The Ticket Master, AJ wants to go to the gala to earn money to buy new farm equipment and afford hip surgery for her grandma).

Personality-wise, she's a total people-pleaser/steamroller (with an occasional savior complex) who places her self worth on her independence and usefulness for other people, causing her to become a complete workaholic. In Applebuck Season, AJ stops taking care of herself because of her obsessive responsibilities for others and becomes completely dysfunctional. In Apple Family Reunion, AJ has a tearful breakdown because in she thinks she dishonored her family and tarnished her reputation as a potential leader –– an expectation and anxiety that's directly tied to her deceased parents, as shown in the episode's ending scene. In The Last Roundup, AJ abandons her family and friends out of shame because believes she failed them by not earning 1st place in a rodeo competition. She completely spirals emotionally when she isn't able to fulfill her duties toward others. Her need to be the best manifests in intense pride and competitiveness when others challenge her. And when her pride's broken, she cowers and physically hides herself.

Moreover, it's strongly implied that AJ has a deep-seated anger. The comics explore her ranting outbursts more. EQG also obviously has AJ yelling at and insulting Rarity in a jealous fit just to hurt her feelings (with a line that I could write a whole dissection on). And I'm certain I read in a post somewhere that in a Gameloft event, AJ's negative traits are listed as anger.

Subtextually, a lot of these flaws and anxieties can be (retroactively) linked to her parents' death, forcing her to grow up too quickly to become the adult/caregiver of the family (especially after her big brother becomes semiverbal). Notice how throughout the series, she's constantly acting as the "mom friend" of the group (despite everything, she manages to be the most emotionally mature of the bunch). Notice how AJ'll switch to a quieter, calmer tone when her friends are panicking and use soothing prompts and questions to talk them through their emotions/problems; something she'd definitely pick up while raising a child. Same with her stoicism and reluctance at crying or releasing emotions (something Pinkie explicitly points out). She also had a childhood relationship with Rara (which, if you were to give a queer reading, could easy be interpreted as her first 'aha' crush), who eventually left her life. (Interestingly enough, AJ also has an angry outburst with Rara for the same exact reasons as with EQG Rarity; jealous, upset that someone else is using and changing her). It's not hard to imagine an AJ with separation anxiety stemming from her mother and childhood friend/crush leaving. I'm also not above reading into AJ's relationship with her little sister (Y'all ever think about how AB never got to know her parents, even though she shares her father's colors and her mother's curly hair?).

AJ's stubbornness is a symptom of growing up too quickly as well. Who else to play with your baby sister when your brother goes nonverbal (not to discount Big Mac's role in raising AB)? Who else to wake up in the middle of the night to care for your crying baby sister when your grandma needs her rest? When you need to be 100% all the time for your family, you tend to become hard-stuck with a sense of moral superiority. You know what's best because you have to be your best because if you're aren't your best, then everything'll inevitably fall apart and it'll be your fault. And if you don't know what's best –– if you've been wrong the whole time –– that means you haven't been your best, which means you've failed the people who rely on you, which means you can't fulfill your role in the family/society, which makes you worthless . We've seen time and time again how this compulsive need to be right for the sake of others becomes self-destructive (Apple Family Reunion, Sound of Silence, all competitions against RD). We've seen in The Last Roundup how, when no longer at her best, AJ would rather remove herself from her community than confront them because she no longer feels of use to them.

But I guess it is kinda weird that AJ has "masculine" traits and isn't interested in men at all. It's totally justified that an aggressively straight, misogynistic male fandom would characterize her as a "boring background character." /s

At the time of writing this, it's 4:46AM.

#mlp #yeah i wrote this last night during insomnia.#yeah i know an embarrassing amount of crap about this kids show #but whatever it's my hyperfixation i'll store as much useless information as i want!!!#i'm gay and neurodivergent i have an excuse #in case you needed more proof that aj's my favorite character #personal #delete later #unless you like this analysis stuff #i get why they didn't reveal aj's parent's death until way later and why they didn't do much with it but i wish they did #cuz narratively there could've been so much material with aj's grief. like. i feel like we gloss over the fact that she lost her #mother and father as a teenager #i tried keeping my personal hcs out of this to keep it unbiased #but i'll put some in the tags #involving rarijack –– i think aj can be (but not always) very self-conscious about her relationship with rarity #anxieties that she's not the right fit or that rarity will move away and leave her some day or that another woman will take her attention #(like in rollercoaster of friendship?? nudge nudge??). basic seperation anxiety stuff #long post #regarding applebloom whenever i think about her and her parents i think about that scene in steven universe where steven looks up at #a portrait of his mother and openly wonders what kind of sack lunches she would've made for him. that episode still fucks me up

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mingigoo · 3 months

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look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

�� synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls.

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing.

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on, bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone.

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you.

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one.

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled.

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine.

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended.

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you.

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew.

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web.

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door.

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside.

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck.

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze.

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really.

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now.

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face.

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him.

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature.

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated.

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you.

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more.

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?”

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass.

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help, struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox.

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really.

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't.

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful.

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you.

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together.

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated.

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first.

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before.

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles, but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared.

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him.

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.”

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more.

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in.

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital.

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.”

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you.

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor.

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more.

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self.

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore.

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude.

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful.

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either.

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm.

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired.

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display.

“Mhm,” you swallowed.

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised.

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare.

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him, his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg.

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath.

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either.

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see.

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub.

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin. He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated.

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks.

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear.

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see.

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous.

You breathed out, “No.”

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways.

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face.

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking.

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious.

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you.

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed.

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez angst #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong fic #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #hospital au #enemies to lovers

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silveryclear · 6 months

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MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

#fanfic #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel x you #miguel x reader #miguel smut #atsv miguel #miguel 2099 #smut #smut writing

2K notes · View notes

neesieiumz · 5 months

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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.

1K notes · View notes

joonsytip · 4 months

Text

Withering for You || Seungcheol- Part 4

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): drama, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though), mention of alcohol consumption, betrayal, italics represents occurrences in past

Word Count: 6.3k

TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED!

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

They say betrayal is worse than death if you taste it from someone you trust, someone you love. It's stingy, it's sickening, it's scathing.

You have always believed in soulmates, entitled Seungcheol to that word since you've known him, even wanted to make promises of eternity with him. But you should have seen the signs, should have never crossed the lines. Must not have tried to slip into the loopholes.

But you got blinded by greed, a hopeful stance of getting back together. Was it so wrong to wish a happily ever after with the one you have loved selflessly? Apparently it was.

"Sit.", you tell Seungcheol and the later obeys.

And as he does so his eyes fall on a very familiar document kept on the table. Instantly, he goes numb.

You observe him for a moment and play the recordings Jiah had given you. Midway, a panic stricken Seungcheol runs to you and pauses the recording.

He grabs your arms and says in desperation, "I didn't do all this Y/N. I admit I had planned all this because I wanted revenge but please trust me, it wasn't me."

"Unhand me.", you command him coldly, "Your touch disgusts me."

Seungcheol looks at you alarmingly before freeing your arms. He thinks of ways to convince you because in actuality, like he said he had planned it all but something out of scope happened. He fell in love with you again so long gone were all of those thoughts and schemes.

"What goes around, surely comes around.", you let out a chuckle, "Maybe that's why, I'm going through this. I get that you wanted to trample me upon. It's fair, to think about what you've been through because of me, I could have understood.", you look at him, "You could have handed me the divorce papers on our anniversary. Could have had other women and it would have wounded me. But-"

The tears pooling at the corner of your eyes are streaming down, "But how could you stoop so low? Knowing how much this academy matters to me, knowing what music means to me, you went out to attack my soul."

"No Y/N, I was a fool, please please", Seungcheol is crying as well, choking on his words, "It was wrong of me but I would never--"

"They are calling me a thief. Because of this incident those out there are questioning my whole career. The career, I've pursued after fighting the odds, after struggling for years. The one thing that is entirely mine.", your eyes turn darker as you say, "You could have rather killed me, Seungcheol."

Seungcheol gasps and shakes his head frantically.

"Even if I clear my name today, there will be people who'll still doubt my ability. Some out there would assume that I might be guilty and just because I belong to an influential family, I must have pushed everything under the rug with money.", you are hurting yourself with every word you utter at this point, clutching your chest, "My image is tainted, my career is ruined. They will never look at me the same way."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N", he gets on his knees and clasps his hands, pleading, "I would do anything to clear your name. I'd do anything to win back your trust just give me one chance--"

You take his hands off you saying, "I have always loved you, Seungcheol. Back then, even now, I have chosen you. But none of that matters now. You have stabbed me in the back but I'll be one to pay the price. I thought you'd be different but these genes run in your family. I can't even blame Jiah. You Choi's are no different from her--", you halt.

"What do you mean?", Seungcheol asks confused.

"As I said none of that matters now. You are so petty that you acted out the whole thing. You don't love me and from today onwards I won't either.", you answer him, taking out the wedding ring from your dress pocket, "Here, I'm giving you what you wanted.", you take his hand and place the ring on his palm, "Congratulations! This marriage didn't get through it's first year. But I have a present for you. I have filed for divorce, the papers will be sent to you as soon as they're ready."

Seungcheol is at loss of words. He's unable to comprehend the situation. He wants to stop you but on what ground? The irreversible damage is already done.

"I have all of my belongings sent over.", you inform him, "And if you're planning to create a fuss about the divorce and what's gonna happen after the conference, head on. I won't be giving up like last time. I'll see through the end of it."

"It's happening again", he tells himself and sounds so broken when he speaks through his wavering voice, "Please don't leave me again."

"I had no choice, I was forced to leave you back then", you mutter under your breath, making it impossible for him to hear, "I was willing to stay this time but I have to leave, this time for my sake."

While you gather the rest of your belongings, Seungcheol stands there helpless. And as you walk out of the house, he watches you take away the life of his adobe with you.

Seungcheol numbly tunes in to watch the press conference. He sees you on the screen, out of his reach, out of his life. He listens to each word you say. How sad you look as you address the matter. Even though your legal team briefs the journalists, his eyes are glued to you. He observes how you don't explicitly mention him or the Choi enterprise but throw sublte hints to catch on.

But you make it obvious at the end of the conference by announcing your divorce to Seungcheol.

"I have filed for divorce against Choi Seungcheol and I would like to refrain you all from associating me with the Choi's in future."

Seungcheol is immediately thrown under the bus. People who were coining you as a thief are now praising you and busy portraying him as the villain.

But mopping won't do him any good. His mind reel backs to every word you have said before leaving. He needs to get answers to some questions. Most importantly, he has to get you back.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol handling the legal charges against him which are minor because he digs out enough evidence to prove that he wasn't involved in the slander and Jiah is the main culprit, adding exceptional charges to the list that would nearly ruin her and damage her company's reputation.

The Choi enterprise faces reputation loss as well which results in their stock plummeting and the board of directors complaining about the situation. But being humungous in business, the impact isn't uncontrollable and since Seungcheol is mentally exhausted his father lets him loose taking matters into his hands for the time being.

Everything is manageable or bearable except for the divorce papers which he has received on your first anniversary, that sits coldly on his office table.

"The house I bought is an hour drive from here and I'm planning to stay there for some time, just to take my mind off of things." you say fishing out your car keys, "I have saved my new contact number to your phones."

"But are you sure you don't want us to be there with you?", your mother asks worriedly.

"At least let us help you shift--"

"Dad, I have lived alone before as well. Plus Chan and my friends are gonna help me with the unpacking.", you move over to hug both of your parents, "Visit me after it's done. Plus I'm planning to throw a cozy house warming house, not soon though."

"We're proud of you.", your mother says patting your head.

"I'm sorry for all the troubles and stress you've been through for the past year.", you mumble, quickly wiping your tears, "I'll be fine, no looking back promise."

"We have always trusted you, just take care of yourself and call us.", your father says kissing your forehead.

Chan waits for you by the car and he doesn't let you drive throughout the time it takes to reach your new house. As your friends help you settle into your new home, you are grateful to them for keeping you distracted and not bringing up Seungcheol.

"I'm sorry, Kwan. The academy had to face such an incident because of me.", you say hanging your head low in shame because you don't want anyone to see your tears, the can of beer in your hand remains unsipped, "I have decided to take some time off, please handle the academy and it's okay if you want me to backout. I'll transfer my shares to you."

Seungkwan blames the atmosphere for the tears in his eyes. He wipes them and sits beside you, "I couldn't have done it alone. The reason the academy exists is because we both had given it our all. So take all the time you want but you'll have to return."

You lean onto him and it's your brother who comes to wipe your tears.

"I'm so sorry Chan.", you speak through the tears, "I should have listened to you. I never thought that Seu--", you go quiet because it pains you to even say his name.

Everyone in room goes silent. It's not haunting rather comforting. But the successive ringing of the phones cause a mild commotion.

"Wonwoo keeps on calling us.", Eunsoo mutters, switching off her phone.

"Just tell him that I'm fine.", you tell her, "I'll give him a call later. I haven't visited Wonseok lately so I need to talk to him anyways."

It's amusing, how the night changes.

Seungcheol is distressed. He realises you are not the only one he has lost, he has lost Ms. Oh's empathy, he has also lost precious friend Wonwoo as well.

Wonwoo is back to his stoic self, the version he was when Seungcheol met him first. Only talks business with him, leaves as soon as he's done with assigned work. No more late night drinks, no more taking shots, none of the banter.

He watches you laugh as Wonwoo tells you something animatedly. He watches how your eyes are dull even though your lips are stretched.

Seungcheol had overheard Wonwoo talking to someone on the phone about his brother so he decides to visit him seperately just to check on him. He didn't expect to see you there, making him question since when you knew about Wonseok.

Your face falls when you're suddenly interrupted by Seungcheol's presence. He stands in front of you wordless, you don't bother to strike any conversation with him either.

"I'll get going, let me know if you need anything else.", you tell Wonwoo and turn around walk away.

"Y/N", Seungcheol says, "Can I please talk to you?"

You crane your neck to meet his gaze, "I don't think we have any business with each other. Do me a favour and just sign the divorce papers."

"I can't.", Seungcheol speaks out without missing a beat, "I need you Y/N, please give me a chance, let me make things right. I promise I won't let you down anymore."

"Enough with this act, don't assume you could fool me twice. I'm done with you.", you move around so now you're facing him again.

"You've changed your number.", he says meekly, "I don't get to see you anymore. That house haunts me, it's not the same without you."

You step in, closing the gap within you two, "You're facing the consequences of your actions. Stop acting like a fucking victim.", you spat out before walking out.

Wonwoo is torn. He doesn't want to take sides, it's even more difficult to see both of his dear friends grieving and suffering but there's nothing he could do.

"Wonseok is going through a series of surgeries because his condition had worsened and Y/N has been paying for them.", Wonwoo informs Seungcheol and before he could ask, Wonwoo adds, "You're already paying me more than I should be so I didn't want to burden you more. She had accidentally found out about Wonseok one day and decided to help me out even though I wasn't ready to accept it. She was determined and I couldn't stop her."

Seungcheol isn't surprised rather he is confused. This version of yours is what he was habituated to when you were dating until you convinced him it wasn't on the day you broke up. Something isn't adding up. Something about your nature and the way you act to what you had said that day are contradicting. You aren't mean-hearted, you are a giver so why did you years ago do something so bizarre, the thought is unsettling.

"She has been taking some time off from the academy, no one knows when she'll be back. She is so affected by the incident that she was ready to give up on the academy. The one she had built from scratch with her blood, sweat and tears." Wonwoo speaks disappointedly, "Do you realise what you have done?"

Seungcheol is ashamed, there's an unhealing pain in his heart thinking about you, about how he should be the one aiding you in your tough time but he can't because he's the reason you're in agony.

"As you know, I had also hated Y/N for what she had done. And now that you see me being friends with her is not because she's paying for Wonseok.", Wonwoo halts and takes a breath, choosing his words carefully, "It goes far beyond that. You have always been heedful, I think it's time for you to be vigilant as well. The truth might be far from what you've believed it to be."

Wonwoo doesn't spare another second on his watch as he walks away ignoring the desperate calls of his name.

Seungcheol's mind is not in place anymore.

Your thoughts are everywhere. Peace and happiness are some of the things you haven't gotten to feel lately. Though you've decided to spend time alone at home, the loneliness is caving you in.

Maybe tonight you're feeling a little more lonely than usual. Maybe you shouldn't miss the person who had pushed you to the edge of the cliff. Maybe you shouldn't be good with dates. Maybe you shouldn't trace your thumb on the calendar reminiscing about the day, you both had made it official years ago.

The damned tears aren't stopping, your heart isn't healing.

The bell rings and you are surprised because no one is supposed to visit you today. Quickly wiping your eyes and cheeks you don't bother to check the monitor and open the door.

At the other side of the threshold stands Seungcheol. Your red eyes gape at him as he looks at you shivering from driving all the way here in the snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You know getting your new address and number wouldn't be a big deal to Seungcheol given his network runs deeper.

"Can you let me in atleast, I'm freezing."

You cross over your arms and step aside. He saunters in and wanders off to have a tour of the house. He stops when he senses the glare you're sending him.

"If you realise that this house too plain for your taste you can always contact me. We're best in the business.", Seungcheol says as his lips purse in a line.

"I wonder from where did you get the audacity to come here?", you ask plainly.

"Just wanted to see you", he admits, "I miss you, Y/N."

You scoff at his words.

"Also, there's something you left behind, I found it while going through the drawers.", Seungcheol fishes out a notebook from his inner coat pocket.

You immediately recognise the object, raising your hand flat for him to handover it to you.

"I instantly got reminded of you always carrying it and scribbled down if anything came to your mind. Seems like you had kept this notebook from prior to university days.", he hands over the notebook and touches your hand gently in the process.

His touch turns to strong grip and he doesn't let go.

"Thanks.", you say trying to free your hand, "You should leave now."

The wedding ring on his finger feels cold on your skin.

"I know you remember what day it is today.", he says pulling you closer so that now you're colliding into him, your faces an inch apart. Your eyes are wide and the notebook falls as you're grabbing onto his shoulder out of reflex.

He has an undeniable look of longing in his eyes. You should just push him away, even kick him out but you find yourself frozen.

"I still remember falling in love with you, every moment of it.", he whispers, his gaze switching between your eyes and lips.

"So I do, Cheol.", his nickname slips out of your mouth so casually, there's a pause before you speak, "Why did you have to ruin it all?"

"I regret it all.", he gently holds your face, "But I realised that I never stopped loving you otherwise why would I despise you if I hadn't been in love in the first place."

"You could have broken my heart but you went after my soul."

"You did the same to me years ago. You took my soul away and I became just a shell.", he isn't complaining, just letting you know how difficult it was for him as well, "I planned everything to get back to you but what wasn't planned was my feelings resurfacing, falling in love with you all over again. I had forgotten all the schemes, had forgotten the reason why I hated you in the first place."

When he rests his forehead against yours, you close your eyes basking in the moment. What he did was definitely beyond any excuse but Seungcheol isn't entirely at fault. The fact that he was ready to start again with you after how you had treated him years ago proves the truth behind his words. The difference is you were forced to act out but he wasn't. He chose to destroy you.

So your eyes snap open and you're pushing him away.

"Leave Seungcheol.", you step away, "And never come back again."

Seungcheol sighs, "What should I do for you take me back? If you want I would never show myself in the vicinity of the academy. I wouldn't even ask you anything remotely related to your works or the academy. I'll stay all out of it, I promise."

"Nothing you do would make me go back to you.", your words taste bitter in your mouth, "We are not meant to be, we're not good for each other."

That is basically you firmly rejecting him, letting him aware that he has axed the mended fence.

Seungcheol smiles sadly, "Only if I could show you my heart and mind."

He then leaves with a heavy heart.

The next few days goes by Seungcheol racking his thoughts to make up his mind. Every time he thinks about you wanting to desperately cut ties with him, he relents. He laments on himself for what he has caused. At nights when he deliberately stays late, he mentally prepares himself to sign those papers because that's the only way to atone for his sins.

But those divorce papers get through every night without getting signed. Because when Seungcheol thinks he's ready that's when the realisation gnaws on him that he's actually not, that he'll never be.

And it gets harder each time he tries.

So one night, he lets his intrusive thoughts get the best of him and he ends up calling you.

"I'm trying but I can't bring myself to sign those papers", he speaks into the phone clutching it hard followed by a shaky breath, "I really want to give you what you want but whenever I think about not having you in my life, my willingness deters."

You stay quiet.

"Sorry to disturb you. Don't know what I was thinking. Please take care of yourself, bye.", he hangs up and collapses back on the chair.

Wonwoo watches through the blinds and he isn't new to this. Years ago Seungcheol had gone into a spiral, had almost given up on living post the breakup and now it hurts Wonwoo to see the history repeating itself.

So this time he promises to intervene for both of your sake, specially Seungcheol.

He has two things on his to-do list and though he isn't sure what the outcome will be, he's going to do them. He gathers everyone and let's them know of his plan.

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, Seungkwan", his gaze sweeps on the three, "You're gonna go and convince Y/N."

"I'll go to uncle and aunt.", Wonwoo says.

Eunsoo looks at him questionably, "We get our part. But are you sure your friend's gonna be okay?"

"Most importantly, I'm not sure how this will end because both of them are unpredictable as fuck.", Mingyu adds.

Seungkwan who was silent the whole time, speaks, "Guys, let's go for it. We will handle the aftermath.", he looks at Wonwoo, "You'll have to take care of Seungcheol because he's gonna hurt the most."

"It's better to be over it, Seungcheol deserves to know."

"What's wrong with you guys?", You ask absolutely astonished. All of your friends have suddenly busted into your house and are now advocating you on something that is supposed to be out of their box.

"Why are you suddenly siding with Seungcheol?", you say with a frown, "I'm feeling betrayed. I'm gonna call Chan now."

Eunsoo and Mingyu break into cold sweat knowing how scary your brother can be. Seungkwan sighs looking at the other two and gets that he has no other way but to sort down to what he's best at. He says, "Y/N, do you think we'd ever think ill of you? Do you think we'd be at your door because suddenly we felt emphatic towards Seungcheol? That's how lowly you think of us?"

The look on Mingyu and Eunsoo's faces are absolute comedic. They didn't expect Seungkwan would pull out his trump card.

Your gaze is unwavering when you say, "This won't work on me you know right?"

Seungkwan smiles, "Of course I know but we also know that you love Seungcheol and won't be happy without him. So we're saying all this just for your sake, not his, not anyone else's."

"You're wr-"

"You had 7 years but you couldn't get over him, even accepted his family just to marry him.", Seungkwan continues, "You had come across so many good men all these years but no one piqued your interest because you only had Seungcheol in your heart."

"Y/N, I did believe him when he said he fell in love again. I had seen the way he looked at you, the way he was protective around you. The way his eyes were always on you, radiating love. It may have started as an act but at some point it became real.", Eunsoo smiles at you, "He loves you."

"But Soo--"

"If you really loathed him, you wouldn't have waited for him to sign those divorce papers, you would have upsurged everything. You have the power to ruin the Chois wholly but you're just buying yourself some time.", Mingyi adds and immediately shifts to hug you, "What Seungcheol did was incredibly wrong, wait he didn't even do it. It was Jiah."

"Are you not getting Jiah did all just to separate you both again?", Seungkwan ask and you look at him wide eyed.

"She had done the exact thing years back and was successful. Please don't let her win again. If she can't have Seungcheol, she has planned all this for you to not have him as well.", Eunsoo voices out her concerns, "Don't let all these heartbreaks, tears and sacrifices go in vain just because of some misunderstandings. Don't do something you'd regret because you didn't mend it when you had a chance."

Your heart sinks at their words.

"Take your time but choose what you think is the best for you.", Eunsoo rubs your back gently, "Rationality shouldn't always take the stance, sometimes hearts should be listened to."

You take a deep breath and say, "Fine guys, I'll think about it."

The smile on their faces are unmatchable.

Seungcheol is worried when he receives a call from his mother asking him to urgently come to their house. Wonwoo is already waiting by the car and though Seungcheol asks if he knows anything he stays tight lipped throughout the ride.

"I'll be waiting for you right here. Call me if you need me.", Wonwoo says with an intone and for some reason it doesn't resonate well with Seungcheol.

He is led into his father's study where he sees both of his parents waiting. They are heartbroken seeing their only son. Seungcheol has lost weight, accumulated bags under red eyes, appearance unkempt.

"Take a seat.", his father says, "I have something to tell you and it's regarding Y/N."

Seungcheol immediately perks up at your mention. An eerie silence falls upon the room. Seungcheol's anxious gaze searches for his parents'.

"Y/N was forced to break up with you years ago. I had made her do so.", his father admits.

Seungcheol freezes. He thinks he's hearing things that are not supposed to make any sense.

"Ever since I had started the business I had been diligent to it. Dedication and honesty does account for success but so also being money minded and cunning. As years went by that consistency and success made me cling to riches, fame and status that came along with it.", his father says as he takes a seat gesturing him to do the same. "You must be remembering that we were facing financial crisis because one of our major investor had withdrawn. It had affected us greatly."

Seungcheol nods, "We were on the verge of facing bankruptcy."

"Since Jiah's father runs a finance company, we had made small sort of deals previously but that time the amount required was large and no one was willing to help us not even her father. But later Jiah came to me and offered me a deal."

"W-What deal?"

"That she would convince her father to provide us support only if", there's an ominous pause before Mr. Choi looks at him and says, "I remove Y/N out of your life."

A tear falls from his eye, as he hears the tale of betrayal from none other but his father.

"I have never liked Y/N, the reason was basic, she didn't belong to our circle. Initially I thought she was just a fling but so I agreed with Jiah."

Seungcheol is numb at this point, he just sorts to listening.

"One day I had brought in Y/N to let her know that she needs to find her way out of your life.", Mr. Choi's gaze falls, "She instantly refused. No matter what I said she wasn't willing to leave you. One meeting turned to two, two turned to three but she was hellbent on not letting you go."

"With Jiah constantly pressurizing me, threatening to nullify the deal if not taken action soon, I became desperate.", he confesses, "So I resorted to one thing I should have never done. I can never forgive myself for that."

You say in utter disbelief, "Why don't you tell your son to breakup with me instead? Stop pestering me, you know we both love each other and Mr. Choi let me make this clear, this is the last time I'm meeting you."

Mr. Choi gives you a sickening smile. He casually says, "Your brother is currently studying in Australia, if I'm not wrong."

You pale instantly, "W-What about him?"

"You're right, this is gonna be our last meeting. If you don't breakup with my son, I'm not sure what I'll do with your brother. What if you don't get to see your dear little brother anymore?"

"Mr. Choi, you can't do this. Please--"

"I'm not here to negotiate. I think you're smart enough to make the right choice. So tell me Y/N, what did you decide?"

You are crying and begging but there's no mercy reserved to spare for you. How are you supposed to choose between your brother and the love of your life? You will have to so you choose what's best for all, you choose both.

"Fine, I'll breakup with Seungcheol. So stay away from my brother."

Mr. Choi smiles in mirth, "You made the right descision. Rest assured."

With job being done, he is walking out of the hall when your call of his name reaches his ears.

He turns with an incredulous look on his face as he waits for you to speak.

"Promise me that you'll never tell Seungcheol about this incident.", comes your strained voice.

"I wasn't planning to anyways.", Mr. Choi says, "Even better for me, I promise to not tell Seungcheol about any of this."

Seungcheol runs to his father with the intention of doing something unspeakable but he stops right in front of him and collapses on the ground.

"How could you do this?", he sobs uncontrollably, "How could you stoop so low?", he balls his hands into fists and channels the anger on the floor, hitting it again and again that's when his mother steps in to stop him.

He looks at her and say, "How could you not tell me? How could you tolerate your husband even after knowing all this?", he then swats her away.

Getting up, he's gasping for air, unable to comprehend with the pain in his chest and head. Restlessness engulfs him but he doesn't let both of his parents to even touch him.

"I'm ashamed to call you both my parents.", he spats out, "I'll never forgive for ruining our lives. I hope all of this was worth it."

Then he's running out of the house ignoring the calls of his name. Wonwoo is immediately grabbing his friend, making him sit and drink water.

"You also knew but didn't tell me?", Seungcheol asks as fresh tears stream down his face.

"I only came to know recently and Cheol even if I had known, it's not my story to tell.", Wonwoo answers.

It takes Seungcheol over an hour to calm down.

"You don't need to attend me, I'm fine.", Seungcheol says stoicly, "You can go, I have somethings to take care of."

Though Wonwoo refutes but Seungcheol is adamant, leaving no choice for him but to obey his boss.

As soon as Wonwoo gets out of the car, Seungcheol drives off.

You are extremely tired, mentally and today for some reasons are you feel thinned out physically as well.

Staring at the cello, ominous thoughts fill in your mind. Because no matter how hard you try, you are unable to produce anything. There are no notes or no tunes, it's all blank.

And you're scared, what if music doesn't choose you anymore? What if you can't produce anything for the rest of your life? All these possibilities scares you enough to spend sleepless nights. It has disturbed your appetite as well.

Tossing and turning, as you've been doing for nights with minimal sleep at dawn hours, you sit up startled when the doorbell rings.

All the exhaustion is now replaced with concern when you see Seungcheol who continuously weeps at the door.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Just a shake of head and he keeps on crying.

It's been about twenty minutes since he arrived crying and you're seriously considering about calling Wonwoo.

The way he's visibly hurting, hurts you too and you resort to hug him, patting his back, "If you're hurting because of me, please don't.", you say softly, tears pricking at your eyes subconsciously.

Seungcheol pulls away, looking at you. His sobs stop and the first thing he does is hold your face and kiss you. You're surprised, his lips graze yours but you don't kiss him back. Your hands push his chest and he's detaching himself mumbling a string of apologies.

"It was all for nothing.", he sounds so heartbroken when he speaks, "All those years spent in pain, hatred and resentment towards you, you didn't deserve any of it."

You have an inkling and it doesn't settle well in your bones, "Whatever you're saying is making no sense. Why are you here?"

Seungcheol looks dead in your eyes, "Because I know now. I know what happened all those years ago."

Your soul leaves your body at his words. You never wanted him to find out because you knew it'd tear him apart.

"W-Who told you?"

"Does it matter?"

And your very first instinct is to grab your phone and make a call to his father but Seungcheol doesn't let you. The phone gets snatched from your hands and thrown away somewhere.

"Why did you do it?", he asks and his questions irks you.

You scoff, "Are you seriously asking me why I did it after knowing everything? Seungcheol, I was threatened with my brother's life, what did you expect me to do?"

Seungcheol shakes his head, "No that Y/N. Why did you make dad promise you about not telling me about this?"

"What could I have done Seungcheol?", your voice cracks, "I loved you so much and trust me, I tried everything I could to be with you, to not hurt you but-- it killed me to lie to you. I went through hell and back trying to stop myself from telling you 'no I'm lying, please don't leave, I love you as much as you do'.

"That day I took your heart away.", You exhale sharply, "I didn't want to crush your soul as well, didn't want to make it anymore difficult for you then it already was. I knew how much you looked upto your father, how much you cherished your parents. I didn't want you to fight your family", your heart twinges as you continue, "Though it wasn't possible for me to love again, I prayed that you would move on, meet someone who'd make you forget all the sorrows I gave you. I wished for you to fall in love again and live happily."

You chuckled through your tears, "Won't lie, it would have hurt me but if it assured your happiness I'd have hurt myself all over again, all of the times."

Seungcheol observes you quietly, he absorbs your words to his heart.

"What does that make me, Y/N?", he asks defeated.

"You weren't at fault, Cheol. I chose what it seemed the best for all of us."

"I hated you, married you and plotted revenge. Hurt you and now indirectly lead to something that almost ruined your career.", he speaks as if he's narrating a monologue, "I kept wounding the wounded and siding with the foes."

"Stop blaming yourself. What you did was indeed wrong, you should have never attempted take a blow at my career. But years ago, even after all that you were ready to start again.", you remind him.

Seungcheol completely shuts himself out.

"Till yesterday, I was in a dilemma. They say if you love someone you should let them go. Call me selfish but I couldn't even think of parting ways with you. I wanted to fight for us. I'd have courted you until you got bored of me. I would have waited for a lifetime, even if you'd have moved on.", he avoids eye contact so that his resolution doesn't deter, "But how could I tie you to the people who tried to harm you, harm your family?"

"I won't beg for forgiveness anymore. Honestly, I don't want you to forgive us. If you're having second thoughts about us, discard them. Please just discard me.", he voices out in desperation, "Be selfish and choose yourself this one time."

He takes out a paper from his coat pocket which you recognise very well.

"Till yesterday signing these papers seemed impossible for me but it's surprising, how events turned out to be.", he takes your hand and places the paper saying, "I have signed them. This time I chose what's best for you."

There's a sickening churn in your stomach that makes you realise that there's nothing you can do.

"I love you, Y/N."

The weight of those words fall heavy on you as Seungcheol closes in.

"For one last time, please.", he says holding your face.

You incline towards him and instantly his lips are on yours. One of his hands now settle on your neck firmly as your lips dance on featherly. His other hand is gripping your waist to hold you in place. The saltiness of his tears burn on your tongue, making you suck in a gasp. His kisses you till his heart's content because it's a kiss of goodbye before resting his forehead on yours.

"Don't go", your strained voice whispers, "Please don't go."

Seungcheol whispers back, "I have to. Please don't stop me, I'm not strong enough to refuse you."

The tears stream down your face, "Would nothing I do be enough to stop you?"

"Y/N, please", he pleads, "You were right when you said we're not meant to be because I have only hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"Cheol..."

He steps back and you're suddenly engulfed by coldness.

"The chapter named Choi Seungcheol in your life ends right now.", he balls his hands, grits his teeth, does everything to not let those tears spill, "Since you might not submit the divorce papers, I have already handed over a copy to your attorney."

He turns back, rubbing his chest, the pain is unbearable.

"Cheol, please..."

"It's snowing so don't follow me outside, you'll catch a cold. Goodbye Y/N."

Then he leaves, from your house, apparently from your life.

And you realised not all stories have a happy ending, there's not always a happily ever after.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

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utahimeow · 6 months

Text

even death will not do us part — satoru gojo

summary — your wedding day with satoru gojo is not exactly conventional.

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — slightly suggestive beginning, pure fluff, established relationship

word count — 3.9k

author’s note — for satoru’s birthday ♡ i put my heart and soul and blood and sweat and tears into this and i hope u can tell. it may be the best writing i’ve ever done, so if u read it, thank u and i love u. also it’s like extremely sappy so pls keep that in mind lol

After a seemingly endless night, tendrils of golden sunlight come crawling through the blinds. They dance over your flesh that’s dotted with soft bites from your lover, and warm it like soft kisses until your eyes peel open.

Satoru’s already awake, ocean eyes gazing at you. A wave of memories of how he touched you so ardently the night before comes washing over you. After it, a wave of heat, his lustful poetry echoing in your mind until it pools between your thighs. Finally, the heat subsides into something warm, a gentle glow which settles within your ribs.

“Good morning,” your lover rasps, voice heavy with sleep.

You reach out to him until your hand finds his face, your fingers grazing over soft pink skin, your thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. He’s slightly puffy, eyes still ever so slightly droopy, but slumber is not the only thing that simmers in them.

“Good morning,” you reply, your words hoarse yet covered in honey.

For a while, neither one of you says anything, instead basking in one another. Satoru drinks in the sight of you laying next to him, gulps and gulps and gulps it down like it’s red wine, until he’s drunk.

“Marry me,” he says. Time stops moving and your heart stops beating momentarily. Your mouth tries to move, tries to give a response, but every word you’ve ever learned suddenly abandons your memory.

He laughs, so obnoxiously beautiful, but within his eyes that carry a millennium of history there is only pure sincerity.

It shouldn’t surprise you this much—his question—not when Satoru had long since carved a space inside your heart, and you in his. You’d been together so long that sometimes you both forgot you weren’t married, and Satoru had a habit of casually stating things like “when I make you my wife”, because it was undisputed that he would marry you.

Still, somehow you didn’t see it coming, and not like this. Satoru Gojo was a man of grandeur–always dramatic, always making a scene, always showing off in some shape or form, whether it was you or his cursed technique. The last place you would expect him to propose was in bed at ten a.m. after a night where he made you see God himself. Although, the more you think about it, this is where he is home. Where he bears the deepest parts of his being to you and where he may shed the weight of a society that idolises him as a god. Where he can ask you to marry him as just Satoru.

“Don’t go shy on me,” he says, still amused by your disbelief.

“I-yes. Yes, I’ll marry you,” you say, sobbing out a laugh, launching yourself into his embrace and burying your face into his bare chest.

“What if we did it today?” he asks, his voice reverberating through you until it almost puts you back to sleep.

“Did what?” you ask.

“Got married.”

Your head shoots up, your eyes flitting rapidly over each of his nonchalant features. Once more, you don’t find a single hint that he’s kidding. “You’re insane.”

“You love me for it,” he says, his face like a mischievous cat’s. “And I can’t spend another minute without you being my wife, so please, elope with me.”

Unlike Satoru, you were never exactly one for grand gestures. He knew you never had dreams of a big fairytale wedding with hundreds of guests or a giant hall, and it’s precisely one of the reasons why he’s asking this of you.

“The higher-ups are going to be pissed,” you say, leaning in close to his face until there’s hardly a hair’s width between your noses.

“That’s the point,” he tells you. “Is that another yes, then?”

You stare into the depths of his irises, the ones that are swimming with adoration, the ones that have never changed how they stare at you, even after all these years. Not that you had any doubts before, but suddenly you’ve never wanted anything more. The feeling settles into your bloodstream, to your bones, to the very core of your being–certainty.

“Yes, Satoru, I’ll elope with you,” you say, and then your lips are on his. There’s a million words in the way he kisses you, ones that he would never be able to speak even if he tried, so he kisses you and kisses you in hopes that you’ll understand them. He kisses you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. It is.

You part, sorrowfully, heads spinning, but then you remember you have things to do.

“I need to start getting ready,” you say, and you already know exactly what his response will be–a groan, a whine, and him begging you to stay in his arms for a little while longer.

He does just that.

“Satoruuu,” you say, mimicking the way he whines your name. “The sooner I get ready the sooner we’ll be married. Isn’t that what you want?”

He pouts for the sake of pouting, then his arms loosen around your waist and you leave him with a peck upon his lips before tossing yourself out of bed.

You spend the next hour and something at your vanity, having never imagined that your wedding day would leave you doing your own hair and makeup.

After Satoru brings you a cup of coffee and plants a chaste kiss to your temple, he heads to the bathroom to shower, leaving you to finish getting yourself ready. When he returns twenty minutes later, he finds you standing in your walk-in closet in only your bra and underwear, looking terribly focused. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know he wants to tell you to go as you are—he refrains, however. It’s a miracle that he’s able to.

“You should wear that white dress you have. The one with the sleeves,” he suggests, flapping his arms and immediately you know which one he’s talking about. A plain white minidress with flared mesh sleeves and sweetheart neckline that you wore to a fancy dinner once. You fish it out, and Satoru approaches you as you step into it and pull it up your hips. Wordlessly, he zips the back up, holding his breath as he does.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to see me yet,” you quip, giggling when you turn to face him.

“Baby, there’s nothing conventional about how we’re getting married,” he grins, giving your ass a tap as you walk past him to pick out your jewellery.

Of course, he insists on putting your necklace on for you too, a dainty Tiffany chain with a diamond sun pendant that he gifted you for your birthday years back because he liked to call you his sun. Again, the feather-light brush of his fingers over your skin sends bolts of lightning shooting to your fingertips. It’s reminiscent of the way he made you feel a decade ago, before he had even kissed you for the first time, when his cheesy, cat-like smile would send your heart racing and heat rushing to your face. When butterflies would erupt in your belly and you felt like you were floating. For some reason you found it hard to believe that feelings like that would persist, but it is in Satoru’s blood to prove you wrong, and he did, and he does still.

You decide on a pair of glimmering white Jimmy Choo heels, but before you can even think to put them on, Satoru is on his knees, softly grasping each leg of yours so he can slip the shoes on and carefully tighten the straps one by one. It’s something that never fails to make you giddy–to make you question if you’re even worthy of this man (you know you are, after all he’d spent the last few years doing everything in his power to prove to you that he’s the lucky one between you). Still, you think it’s perfectly valid to wonder what you’ve done to deserve someone like this.

Satoru stands then, a perpetual smile upon his glossy pink lips. He’s in a pair of pressed black slacks that hug his thick, toned legs, and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top buttons left open (because you always tell him you like how good he looks) and nothing to cover his eyes. You’re the only person he’ll be looking at today, after all. He’d die before letting anything obscure his view of you.

He takes your hand and raises it into the air and twirls you around, his eyes drinking in every detail of you, inhaling your sweet, angelic scent, and now it’s his turn to wonder how he managed to get so lucky, as if it doesn’t occupy his mind from the very second he wakes up to the moment he falls asleep.

He’s still unlearning the idea that he’s alone because it was all that he ever knew from the day that he was born. He’s always had friends and caretakers and people who admired him and who depended on him and who worshipped him, but he was always there at the top, the closest thing to a god that a human could be—by himself. No one could possibly understand him enough to be by his side, not really. Then one day you came along and you slithered your way into the cracks and crevices of his very being and refused to budge, and you showed him that he’s not alone, that there are people who he can trust and depend on and people who he can love.

He never lets go of your hand, pulling you close to his chest and grinning down at you. His eyes gleam with a mischief that’s all too familiar, one that’s got you instantly suspicious.

“Please don’t hate me,” he says but it’s without any real concern.

You have an inkling as to what he’s planning, but you don’t even get the chance to open your mouth to question him because one moment you’re standing in the foyer of your home and the next you’re outside of the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building.

He predicts the way you smack his chest and whine out a mildly irritated “Satoru!”–it only makes him grin harder, because he knows how much you hate when he teleports you without warning, but right now he just can’t wait another moment (and neither can you) so you don’t have it in you to be genuinely displeased.

As he makes his way to the entrance, you tug on his arm suddenly to stop him after a certain realisation hits you.

“Satoru, don’t we need a witness?” you ask.

His eyes narrow in thought and he looks around, cartoon-like, before his face fills with resolution and he’s strolling away from the building with you in tow.

“Excuse me,” he exclaims, and you follow his gaze to where an older couple are walking by, hands intertwined. They turn to him inquisitively, so he continues. “My gorgeous fiancée here and I are about to be wed. All of our friends were too busy today, so we don’t have any witnesses. Would you spare a moment of time for a young, smitten couple?”

You roll your eyes, but the grin smirk your lips betrays you. “We’re sincerely sorry for interrupting your day. What my insufferable fiancé here means to say is we would appreciate it greatly if you would be our witnesses.”

The couple take a glance at one another, silently communicating before they face you and Satoru once more, nodding their heads.

“It’s our day off, we were just going to walk around the city anyway,” the lady explains, her pale, weathered lips stretching into a gentle smile.

Thus, you waltz into the city hall altogether, and only now does it begin to settle in that you’re about to marry Satoru Gojo. The morning had gone by so quickly– you’d only been awake less than four hours, and during that time you never once stopped to let any of it sink in.

Now, it sinks in. All the way to your core, to the fibres and cells that make up your being. Inside your ribs your heart is swollen, filled to the brim with scarlet red until it overflows and paints everything around it, until every part of you, every seam that holds you together has been altered, touched by something that Satoru gifted you on the first day you met him.

Your lover seems to move in slow motion. Your breath is caught in your throat. It’s a dream, you’re sure of it. Then Satoru squeezes your hand, ever perceptive of your thoughts, and reminds you that it’s not.

After gathering a pile of documents, a man in a suit takes you to a room that’s a smaller version of a court and begins to lay out the papers, simultaneously explaining each one’s purpose and indicating what you and Satoru must fill out. You provide him with your own documents–birth certificates and proof of residence, and then the two strangers who had offered themselves to you as witnesses give their signatures.

Your officiant makes his speech in a professional language, far from the flowery words given by priests or family friends in churches or venues adorned with flowers and ribbons along every wall.

Lack of preparation means your vows are a repetition of a script written decades ago: you take Satoru to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish; from this day forward until death do us part.

During Satoru’s turn, he hesitates. His eyes shine with a strange epiphany as he stares down at you.

“...From this day forward, until the end of time. Even death will not do us part.”

There are no words in any language, dead or alive, that are adequate enough to describe the elation you experience. There is no concept, idea, or theory that would truly reveal the way that you are consumed by love for him. It runs through your bloodstream, intrinsic to your very being.

The officiant announces that you and Satoru are husband and wife. Now you are one flesh and bone. He leans forward, kisses you, and it’s a promise of eternal devotion.

Outside of the city hall, where time no longer stands still but you still feel as though you are not inside of your body, your husband Satoru Gojo bows to the man and woman who made your marriage possible.

Satoru Gojo does not bow. And while it is easy to attribute it to some god complex, to the product of his upbringing, as many do, those to whom Satoru has shown his soul know that it is rebellion. It is the denial of a convention he refuses to assimilate with, one he does not believe in, one which begs children to be grateful to those who have sown them as though they had the choice to be sown.

When Satoru Gojo does bow, it is not without good reason. Most often it is only when he owes someone his life—so he bows to the two strangers, whose signatures on a piece of paper mean that he is eternally yours.

Beside him, you bow too.

“Thank you,” Satoru says, then both of you straighten up to find the couple smiling before you. There is kindness etched into every line on their face, a fondness simmering in their eyes. Their arms are linked, and all of a sudden you’re looking in a mirror.

“Congratulations on your marriage,” the woman says. “I’m certain you will flourish together.”

“You know, young people are always getting into relationships, but seeing true love like what you have with one another… It’s a rare thing nowadays. Please cherish that,” the man says.

“We’ll be forever grateful for you,” you say. “Thank you.”

The four of you part, but the couple, whose names you do not know, now lives in a part of your mind that can never be erased.

The first thing Satoru does as your husband, as you walk down the streets of Tokyo with your hands laced together, is suddenly disappear into a flower shop as you pass by it, before emerging once more and handing you a bouquet of crimson carnations and white roses with a cheshire cat smile on his face.

“Your wedding bouquet,” he says.

“Oh, Satoru, they’re beautiful,” you muse, allowing your nose to absorb their earthy scent. “Thank you.”

You tug him by the hand that’s woven with yours, pulling him down to plant a kiss upon his cheek.

The next stop is a jewellery store, and you yelp as Satoru pulls you inside with him this time.

“Pick whatever ring you like, baby,” he tells you as you stand before the glass case where thousands of crystals glimmer back at you, splayed out on a bed of white. “Just to wear until you pick your actual one.”

Blood warms your face. It’s not meant to be a brag. Even if he didn’t have generations of wealth in his bank account, he’d buy you as many rings as you wanted until you found the perfect one. For you, he would find a way.

Your eyes wander over every diamond, over gold and silver and platinum, and it’s not long at all before they all start to look the same. Not wanting to spend your entire wedding day inside a jewellery store, you land on a simple diamond-studded silver band and point it out to Satoru.

“That one?” he asks.

You nod, a satisfied smile making your lips curl.

Satoru flags down the jeweller, a thin woman with shiny skin, requesting the ring you want. She tells him each of the five diamonds weighs 0.2 carats, making the ring a total of one carat, as if it’ll make a difference to either of you. He doesn’t ask her for the price, but she tells him it’s 550,000 yen—practically theft for someone from the Gojo clan.

After picking out a matching plain silver band for himself, you and Satoru leave the store and continue strolling through the city. To everyone else, you look like no more than an enamoured couple like the millions of others in Tokyo, and while a part of Satoru feels like he wants to wander up to random strangers to brag to them that you’re his wife, another part cherishes this little secret between you two.

From the day he was born, Satoru Gojo’s wedding was to be a grand affair. Sorcerers from far and wide would gather to witness the expansion of the Gojo clan. It was to be a several day-long event, planned intricately by the higher ups without room for any say from the bride and groom. Satoru did not want that—not for himself, but especially not for you.

Now he laughs as he imagines the higher ups’ faces when they realise he has not only married but eloped behind their backs. Though he thinks he’ll keep his left hand in his pocket the next few times he pays them a visit, at least for a few weeks.

“What?” you ask. His grin spreads from his face to yours.

“Nothing. Are you hungry?”

“Ugh, yes,” you say. Suddenly your empty stomach becomes even emptier, howling agonisingly loudly.

“Sushi Go?”

“Please.”

The nearest one is ten minutes away. When you get there, you sit in a booth next to the conveyor belt, with Satoru insisting on shoving himself into the seat next to you rather than across from you. As soon as his heat radiates into you, however, you feel like melting into him.

After ordering almost the entire menu despite your scolding, Satoru finds the ring boxes and pulls them out of the ribbon-tied bag from the jeweller. He takes your left hand, gently, as though you’re made of glass, and slides the glittering ring onto your fourth finger. He brings it to his lips, then his velvety lips kiss just above where the ring rests.

“Beautiful,” he says. He’s looking at your eyes, not the ring.

You twist it around your finger, lungs empty as it catches every ray of light that comes its way and tosses it back at your eyes.

“It’s a little big, but I love it.”

“I’ll get you the perfect one, don’t worry,” he says. “To make up for no engagement ring.”

“You make me sound so materialistic,” you quip, taking his hand into yours and slipping the matching silver band onto his bony finger.

“Just spoiled,” he corrects.

You narrow your eyes at him, but it turns into hearts not a moment later. He makes it impossible.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo,” you say, holding up your hands as you lace your fingers together with his.

“I love you,” he says, and the smug, cocky front vanishes, and he bares himself, his true self, to you. “More than anything in this world. I’m gonna prove it to you every single day from now on.”

Your giggle is drenched in fondness. “You already do that.”

“Then I’ll do it even better. This is a promise of that,” he says, thumb stroking over the ring he put on your finger.

His eyes don’t hold an ounce of hesitation, of questioning, of doubt. Only truth.

Your food arrives, and you wish you could say you feel bad about how overtly gross you and Satoru are being, feeding sushi rolls to each other with twinkling eyes, but everything inside you is screaming with euphoria that you can’t bring yourself to care.

You wipe a drop of soy sauce from the corner of his lips, and he stares at you like you put the sun and the stars and the moon in the sky.

Not to your surprise, you and Satoru don’t finish all of the food he ordered. One of the waiters offers to box up the leftovers, then returns with two paper bags and hands them to your husband, whose unoccupied hand takes yours once more.

He decides he wants to take you to the park. He’s not sure why. It just feels right, and all you want is to spend time with him, so you tell him the park sounds perfect. It’s only another fifteen minute walk, anyway.

When you get there, the emerald lawns are teeming with families, couples, friends. Children run as if they can fly, dogs chase after tennis balls like it is their life mission. Satoru whisks you away from it all however, taking you into the trees.

Nestled amongst the Japanese chinquapin and zelkovas, a cherry blossom spreads its branches out like arms, its blossoms like pink fingertips that flutter as the wind swims through them. Satoru sinks into the cushion of grass at the base of the tree, leaning his broad back against the trunk. Like a cat, you find your way into his lap and rest your head upon his chest, next to his heart. The way his arms wrap around you is instinct.

Sparrows and finches flit about the branches, dancing as they move from one tree to another. Two turtle doves perch together, huddling into the other even though the air is warm.

Even if you and Satoru do not stay bound together in this life, if death takes you or him early, one thing you know for certain—you’ll find him again in another life. Right now, however, you have him in this life, and nothing else matters.

dedicated to @ushiwhacka and @tetsuskei <3 i love u both

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo fanfic #gojo imagine #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru imagine #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #꒰ lovers. ꒱ — gojo

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 5 months

Note

Hiiiii could you do a fic where reader is pregnant for the first time? I need more soft!young president coriolanus so so bad

Soft as Snow || Young President!Coriolanus snow x reader

A/n: thank you for this request anon!! I need more soft coryo too 🥹

Warnings: fem!reader, mention of death

Wc: 860

Divider by @firefly-graphics

In the opulent sun room of the presidential mansion that you call your home, you sat in a plush chair with a bowl of fresh lychee perched carefully on your pregnant belly. The brightly lit room, adorned with decadent furnishings, seemed to reflect the weight of the world you carried not only as the First Lady but also as a soon-to-be-mother.

The door cracked open and Coriolanus entered with an air of authority that seemed to dissipate as he laid eyes on you, his precious wife. Coryo gestured the servants to leave the two of you alone as his steely gaze softened, and a small, genuine smile graced his lips as he approached.

"May I?" he gestured toward the empty space on the chair beside you. You nodded with an eager smile and he took a seat, his eyes fixed on your protruding belly which was covered by the softness of your silk dress. Gently, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. "How are you feeling, my love?"

His voice, usually reserved and commanding to people outside of his inner circle, held a tenderness and softness that sent a comforting shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but smile at the sincerity in his question.

"I'm well, Coryo. Our baby seems to be quite content by these lychees," You chuckle as your rub your stomach. Coryo smiles, lychees were a rare fruit to come by this time of year but he made sure that you were fed only the most juiciest, ripe, lychees.

"I'm glad," he hums. His hand finds its way to your belly, fingers tracing delicate patterns on the fabric of your dress, ghosting over your skin underneath. "It's a remarkable thing, life," he mused, his eyes reflecting a mix of emotions—awe, anticipation, and a hint of vulnerability.

You watch him knowing where his mind was at. The thought of his mother dying during birth along with his baby sister. You knew that he was scared. Scared that maybe you would have the same fate as his late mother. But you assured Coryo, that times have changed and that you would be alright.

The weight of his responsibilities seemed to momentarily fade as he focused on you and the life growing inside you. Your fingers dipped into the fruit bowl, a lychee in between your fingers as you bring it to your lips, Coriolanus watching with fascination. The atmosphere hung in a delicate balance, as if time itself had slowed down to savour this tranquil interlude.

"Have you thought about names," he asked, breaking the silence. You chuckled softly, the sound echoing through the room, "I have actually. Vicky," you watch Snow's features contort into a mixture of emotions.

"Vicky. like my mothers-" "Yes, like your mother's name." You interrupt him as your thumb brushes over the back of his hand, a comforting gesture that spoke volumes. "I love it. Vicky Snow," He says with a smile on his face.

As you continued to share the bowl of fruit, the conversation drifted from politics to dreams, hopes and the shared future that awaited your family. Coriolanus, a man known for his strategic mind and politics, revealed a more vulnerable side, a side reserved for you, his wife carrying his child.

Time slipped away, and the room glowered in the soft hues of twilight. Coriolanus stood, his eyes lingering on you with an affectionate gaze. "I've got state matters to deal with, my dear. Just know, you and our child are always on my mind."

Days turned into weeks, and the swell of your belly grew more pronounced. The Capitol buzzed with excitement over the impending arrival of the newest member of the Snow legacy. Coriolanus, ever the stoic leader, became a pillar of support, attending to your needs with a grace that contradicted his ruthless reputation.

One evening, as the two of you stood on the balcony overlooking the Capitol, he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting protectively on your belly. The lights of the city below shimmered like a sea of stars, and for a moment, it felt like the world paused to witness the union of power and vulnerability.

As the days dwindled down to the eagerly anticipated arrival, Coriolanus stood by your side, a beacon of strength. The birthing room, stark and sterile, contrasted sharply with the opulence of the Capitol. Yet, in that space, you found an intimacy that transcended the political stage.

The first cry of your newborn filled the room, and Coriolanus held the tiny bundle in his arms with a reverence that bordered on awe. His usually composed demeanor crumbled, replaced by the unfiltered joy of fatherhood.

"She's so beautiful, just like her mother," He whispers, his eyes never leaving the small face nestled in his arms. "Thank you, thank you for gifting me a gift beyond measure," Coryo looks at you as you couldn't help but let a teardrop roll down your cheek as you gazed at the future you had brought into the word.

You couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that had blossomed in the heart of the Capitol's calculated power.

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dollfacefantasy · 6 months

Text

Baby Bunny

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!bunny-hybrid!reader

summary: leon helps his sweet baby bunny through her heat.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, breeding kink, daddy kink

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but let's go with it. again, thank you everyone for reblogging and commenting, it means the world to me <3

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

In his personal life, Leon never wanted to be depended on. That was his job. He didn’t want that stuff following him home. He didn’t want to be tied down, to be responsible for someone like that. People depended on him in Raccoon city and look how that turned out. Every mission he’s been on for the last few years, he’s responsible for someone. It’s exhausting.

But as he nears 30, he starts to look at it differently. An aching sense of isolation grows in his heart. He starts to think about what it would be like having someone, having a companion of some sort. Suddenly, he’s not looking at being relied on as a detriment. Being depended on means having someone to care for, someone to love. There would be someone at the end of long days and the starts of his currently lonesome nights.

That’s how he finds himself with you scampering around his house. The sweetest little thing he’d ever seen. Your long floppy ears, cute little cottontail, those big sweet eyes. From the moment he saw you, he was a sucker for all of it.

A while back he had briefly heard of human-animal hybrids, but he didn’t think much about it. It didn’t really apply to him. If anything, the idea weirded him out a bit.

That was until he started thinking more about his dilemma. It seemed like one of them might be a good solution. He talked to a few people and did some online research and decided to at least look into it. It couldn’t hurt to visit an adoption center right?

He visited the place and was still a little freaked by the whole concept. He walked through the rooms, watching different hybrids move about and mess around. The lady guiding him throughout asked him different questions, trying to decipher what type of hybrid would best fit his needs. But all of her questions were irrelevant as soon as he spotted you.

You were undoubtedly the one. His baby bunny. Not only did he not want any other hybrid, but he didn’t think he could physically leave that place without talking to you at the very least.

He walked over to you cautiously. You kept to yourself, and he could tell from your body language alone how timid you were. He spoke with the softest, most soothing tone he could manage, but you were still so shy.

You’d told him your name so quietly he could barely hear. He didn’t touch you at all, fearing you may cry at something that personal. But he kept talking to you because while others may have found it challenging, he could see you fitting right in with him.

You’d be dependent, sure, but clearly you wouldn’t be overly needy for affection. It would be a good way for him to transition from being alone into having someone.

He kept getting to know you and trying to get through some of your walls. He talked with you about all sorts of things and let you ask your own questions so you could get to know him. By the end of the day, you hesitantly allowed him to stroke your ears.

It was that exact day he told you that he was interested in you coming to live with him. You were still very reserved, but you seemed receptive. You did a little trial run over the course of a week, and just as Leon thought, you were a great fit.

You had grown more comfortable with him in the months since that week even though your core personality hadn’t changed. You were still generally quiet, never asking for much and being appreciative of whatever he gave you. You’d talk with him openly now, mostly responding to him rather than starting conversations but speaking nevertheless. You slept in your own room, but as soon as you woke up, you’d come find him to hang out. It was a nice balance with you.

But Leon still wanted a little more. He would never push it on you, knowing it would make you withdraw again, but he always cherished the moments of progress with you. You warmed up enough that you came around to enjoy cuddling. Leon couldn’t believe how soft he’d become when you curled up to his side and tucked yourself under his arm. The first time you fell asleep in his embrace, he loved it so much he felt chest pains. Once or twice, he’d gotten you to fully sit on his lap, and he couldn’t stop beaming.

He could give you little kisses on your face now, and you’d give him a sweet smile in return that he couldn’t get enough of. You’d never kissed him yourself, but you would nuzzle his cheek in return which was enough to make him happy.

You were just such a sweetheart, a perfect companion for him. You didn’t complain when he had to go to work, but it wasn’t like you didn’t miss him. He could see the way your ears would slump and your eyes would dim as he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. But you also got so happy when he came back. You tried to seem as subdued as possible, but the way you lit up again in his presence was obvious.

The only thing you were still completely closed off about was when you went into heat. Leon understood what it was, he had been nervous about it since bringing you home, but he had no clue about how you dealt with it at all. Every time it happened, you’d shut yourself up in your room for however many days it took, and then return to him as if nothing had happened.

For your sake, he played along. He got the sense it was a touchy subject after bringing up the possibility of getting you some more toys for it and having you immediately shut it down. Your voice had become higher pitched with defensiveness, and your eyes wouldn’t meet his for the next few hours.

He had only wanted to help, but he couldn’t tell you why. Couldn’t tell you that your desperate moans kept him up at night when they echoed down the hall. Those broken whimpers that made it sound like you were crying, so worked up and in need of release that it brought you to tears.

He also couldn’t share how it made his cock rise to attention. How those pretty little noises had him fucking his fist, other palm covering his mouth to muffle his grunts, searching for relief of his own. His precious baby bunny didn’t need to know all of that.

Today had been a long day. He was tired after dealing with all the bullshit that came with his job. Although, unlike in months prior, he wasn’t all doom and gloom driving home. The thought of his sweet girl at home waiting for him by the door kept his spirits somewhat up as he made the commute back.

To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room like normal. He walked through the room cautiously, a little on edge from the disruption to his routine. He goes into the kitchen and still doesn’t find you. He starts to walk to the back of the home and that’s when he hears something. Those soft, needy sounds of pleasure.

His eyebrows raise, but he continues walking. As he gets closer, he realizes something that adds another level of shock to this situation. The noises were coming from his room.

At this point, he was more concerned than anything else. He makes his way down the hallway to his room and slowly opens the door, cracking it open to peek inside.

His eyes widen as he sees you on his bed. You’re kneeling, doubled over though so your face is in the blankets, his pillow between your legs, and your hips rocking back and forth violently. You’re nude from the waist down, only wearing a shirt of his. One of your fists is clutching the blankets while you keep your face shoved against them in a weak attempt to muffle those cute noises.

His jaw goes slack at the sight. He wills himself to remain calm and not succumb to some of his own primal urges. He carefully steps into the room, trying to be quiet even though he couldn’t see a way to not startle you with his presence.

“Baby…” he says, using the most gentle voice he could manage.

You shoot up in bed, now kneeling vertically. Your eyes are wide like you’ve had the fright of your life, your expression clearly horrified that he’d caught you like this. And even though he tries not to look, he can’t help but notice that despite your reaction, your hips don’t stop rutting against the pillow.

“Daddy!” you gasp.

That short circuits his brain. He pauses for a good five seconds to grapple with what you just said. You’d never called him that before. Not that he minded necessarily… but it still gave him whiplash.

His reaction seems to cause you to realize what you had just blurted out. In the blink of an eye, you go from visibly horrified to completely mortified. Your eyes fill with tears as you whimper out “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

Oh god, and now you’re crying. Leon was still silent as he tried to keep his composure, force the heat building inside of him to cool off before he approached you. Looking at you though, that sweet face with tears leaking down those round cheeks… It made him want to bounce you on his lap till you were crying for a whole other reason.

“It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright,” he reassures you as he walks to the bed. He sits on the edge, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on your face. “Is it… Are you in heat?”

“Yes,” you say, tone dripping with shame. You bite your lip and try to restrain any further whimpers. Your hips were slowing down but still moving. After a few moments though, another wave of choked cries erupt from your throat and more hot tears of humiliation slide down your skin. Your hands fly up to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I-”

“Hey, hey, hey. Calm down. It’s ok,” he says softly. He cautiously takes your wrists and pulls them away from your face. He takes one of your hands in his, soothingly rubbing the back of your palm. You whimper at the touch, but he doesn’t say anything. “It’s ok, honey. I’m not mad. You can’t help it. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

You look into his eyes with your tearful gaze. Your breathing was a little ragged from crying, but it seemed like he was calming you down slowly. You nod with uncertainty, waiting for him to make the next move.

He was also unsure of what to do. This was so unlike you, he’d never seen you this emotional for one, but he’d also never expected to see you in this position. And the entire time your hips were still grinding on that pillow, back and forth like a pendulum.

“Is it more intense this time?” he asks, keeping his tone gentle to not upset you again.

“I guess,” you whimper, “I just… I wanted you.”

It pained him to see you so uncomfortable and stressed out. He wanted you to be able to come to him with these types of things, to trust him with yourself when you’re in your most vulnerable state. It was clear that you desired that too, to some degree. You were in his room, humping his pillow, wearing his shirt.

“Well… I’m right here, baby. I want to help if I can. If you want me to,” he says.

Your skepticism is written all over your face. But you needed this even if you were a little nervous. He pats his lap encouragingly, and that’s the final push you need to let go of the pillow and crawl into his lap.

“There’s my baby bunny. Sweet girl,” he says softly as he gets you situated. He peppers a few tender kisses on your head and strokes your back.

You had only been there for a few seconds, but your hips were already squirming.

“What do you need, baby? Just tell Daddy, and you can have it,” he whispers. The title rolls off his tongue as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It had caught him off guard when you said it, but after it rattled around in his head for a bit, it took root. Now, he just wanted to hear you say it again.

You whimper, looking at him through your lashes with those sweet eyes. At this point, you were all but riding his thigh. There’s a pause as you decide how to articulate your desire.

“I need… I need you,” you offer timidly.

“I know that, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “Try to be more specific for me. Daddy only wants to know so he can help you. Give you exactly what you need.”

He reaches up and cradles the back of your head, bringing you in to rest it on his shoulder. His other arm wraps around you and rubs your back. He holds you as close as he can to give you that physical reassurance he knew you longed for in your condition.

You still hesitate, obviously working up your will to explicitly state your cravings.

“I want Daddy inside, wanna be bred,” you whimper, turning your face against his shoulder to hide your eyes. Your whole head felt hot with the weight of what you said. It was almost dizzying, but he swoops in with his cooing voice and gentle praises to keep you together.

“Poor baby,” he croons, “I don’t know how you handled this alone for so long, honey. That’s so unfair to you, all these big feelings you had to work through by yourself. So frustrating.”

You knew he was being excessively caring now, but you had no complaints. The loving cadence of his voice made your mind melt. All you could do is whimper and nod against his shoulder.

“You could’ve come to Daddy anytime you wanted. I could never say no to my sweet baby bunny, especially not about this,” he says, kissing your head and giving your ears a few loving strokes.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you say.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sweet girl. I’m here now. We’re gonna fix it. Daddy’s gonna make it all better,” he says.

He shifts you around a little so he can slide his pants down and free his hard cock. Your curious eyes dart back to his face after a quick look at the flushed tip and the veins spanning the shaft.

“You ready?” he asks softly.

“Mhm, need it,” you whimper in return, helping him get your hips into position.

He lowers you on to his cock. Both of you let out hushed noises of pleasure as the sensation strikes pleasure within you. His fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips as he slides further into you. Your arms tighten around him and your eyes already start to flutter at the snug fit.

You whine and babble out some nonsense when you’re finally flush against him. His cock twitches inside of you.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hushes you. You could hear the tension in his own voice from exerting so much restraint. “You feeling any better?”

“Little bit, need more Daddy,” you mewl.

“Just give yourself a second to adjust, angel,” he grunts. You were pulsing around him, making it harder for him to not let go.

But it seems you’re feeling the same way. You shake your head in response to his words and start haphazardly squirming around, trying to move up and down while still in his hold.

“Need it Daddy,” you whine, “Can’t wait. Pretty please.”

Like he’d said, he couldn’t say no.

“If you’re sure, honey,” he says and loosens his grip, “Be a good bunny and bounce for Daddy.”

That’s all you need to hear before you’re bouncing up and down. Wet noises fill the room as your slick pussy takes him in and out. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, letting the embarrassment fade and just feeling the pleasure running through you.

Leon focuses on helping you keep your balance as you ride him. His own belly was twisting with ecstasy as your heat engulfs him over and over.

“That’s it, good baby,” he grunts, “Keep going, honey. Get it all out.”

You whine and continue on, up and down, up and down. More cute noises spill from your mouth as the head of his cock nudges all the right places. You ramble on, mumbling things like “love my daddy” over and over.

“Daddy loves you too, sweet girl,” he says softly.

He notices you starting to cling and whimper more. You were still riding, but your rhythm was becoming more awkward. You seemed more desperate even though you literally had him as close and as deep as physically possible.

He tries to help and do more of the work. He pulls you in close again and holds you against his body. Your face is pressed to his neck while he rubs the back of your head. His hips start to do the majority of the thrusting, bucking up into you fervently.

More incoherent strings of words escape you as you melt into his chest. You press a few sloppy kisses to the base of his neck. Despite him taking over, you were still being whiny and squirmy. He knew you were in discomfort, but it should be getting better, right?

“What is it, babydoll? What else do you need?” he coos.

Your head falls back and a sound of general pent up frustration escapes you. Your hips roll into his thrusts in large, needy movements.

“It’s not enough,” you cry, almost near tears from the ache between your thighs, “Need you more. Closer. Need it.”

You tug at his arms trying to get him to wrap them tighter. There wasn’t much Leon could do though. You were already as close as possible, any closer and you wouldn’t be able to move, which he was sure wouldn’t go over well with you. He felt so bad for you though. His sweet baby bunny suffering like this.

He watches you, your weak attempts at getting yourself off by rising and falling on his lap. He can’t take watching you struggle like this. Doing the only thing that could think of, he boosts you up and quickly flips you over.

You’re now pinned beneath him. His toned body is all over yours, heated skin pressed to you in every way. He spreads your arms out and holds your wrists down. His hips are against yours. He’s just grinding into you now, not even pulling out with his thrusts. He was as deep as possible. If this wasn’t enough, he didn’t know what else to do.

“How’s that, pretty girl? Is that how my baby bunny wants it? Wants Daddy nice and deep, ready to spill his cum and breed her cute pussy,” he breathes.

You nod eagerly, eyes rolling back at the relief you felt. This is what you needed. Feeling his weight on top of you, unable to move anywhere else.

“Mhm, this is what you need, sweet baby. You’re gonna take every last drop. Gonna keep it all in to make sure it takes too. If any leaks out, that just means I’ll have to fuck it back in. We’ll just have to go as many times as we need to,” he groans.

“Yes Daddy. Wanna take it all. Gonna be full of your cum for days,” you whimper.

“Yeah you will be. I think that’s what I’ll do from now on. Whenever my baby bunny goes into heat, I’ll have to stay home, make sure to keep you in bed, keep you plugged up full of Daddy at all times. That pretty little head won’t have to think about anything but being bred,” he says.

You just nod again, unable to get proper words out at the minute.

“I feel you squeezing, sweetheart. You getting ready to cum for Daddy?” he coos and reaches up to stroke your ears. He hikes your thighs up more, giving him a deeper angle to drive into you with. You gasp from the change, and your noises get higher as he rams in as much as he can without it being painful.

“Daddy!” you cry out. It’s all you can say. You had more, but it could only come out in the form of that one word right now. He’s all that was on your mind. Daddy daddy daddy.

“Yes, baby. Yes. Daddy’s here. Gonna fill you full of cum and then love on you for the rest of the night,” he purrs, “My baby was so brave, dealing with this all by yourself. But doesn’t it feel so much better when Daddy takes care of you?”

“Mhm, mhm,” you agree quickly.

Your hips start bucking while your body spasms. Leon knew this was it.

“Good girl, baby. Cum whenever you want. Let it feel good baby, get perfect and tight,” he says.

You do just that. You let the release wash over you. You shudder and dig your fingers into his muscles as the feelings bubble over.

“My perfect little bunny,” he praises softly while watching you let go.

It’s not much longer until his cock his pulsing violently within you. He thrusts as hard and as deep as possible before letting out a loud groan and burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, baby, baby, baby,” he mumbles.

He spills it all inside you, hips twitching and arms locking around you. In the end, you’re both panting. He pulls back a little to kiss your forehead again. He looks down into your eyes.

“How’re you feeling now, sweet girl?” he asks softly.

“Better for now,” you answer. Your head starts to clear and return to its normal state.

He nods and kisses your head again. He rolls over onto his back, scooping you up against his chest while staying inside you. He rubs your back gently.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispers, “Now you see you don’t have to do that alone. You can trust me, sweetheart. I only want to help you. Keep you happy.”

You nod and look up at him lovingly.

“If this is what you need, this is what you need. We can get through it together,” he says softly.

“Together,” you agree softly and scoot up slightly, kissing him gently on the lips.

He smiles big and holds you closer somehow. He leans in for another kiss and another. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to get enough.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 7 months

Text

Black Metal and Bourbon (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Bartender!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.1k

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, drug usage, mentions of sex & intimacy, dark jokes/dirty jokes, rumors, gossip, past toxic relationship, a shitty Ex, protective!Simon, etc. (18+ mini-series)

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slapped the damp rag back into the bar top, the fabric heavy with spilled alcohol and other fluids that you didn’t even want to try and think about.

“Jesus.” Your muscles ache, neck stiff from having to try and slap a dart from the ceiling where some jackass had been too drunk to attempt and hit the target. The thing was still up there, as you weren’t about to spend your entire night fruitlessly attempting to fix someone else's blurry mistakes.

You glare over your shoulder, seeing the unconscious form of the man in question being dragged out by his friends presently, his slurring chuckles making him sound like a drowning elephant. Intoxicated yells of goodbye attached to your name make you roll your eyes slowly as they begin being said; you push through the waist-height door to allow you behind the front counter. Your middle finger flips the patrons off before boisterous flirting hits the air.

“C’mon baby, don’t be like that—!” Is cut off by the slam of the front doors and you couldn’t be more happy that your boss hadn’t gotten the bolts tightened.

“Don’t get paid enough…” You grumble, eyes slithering over to the tip jar and seeing the overflow of bills and coins as your fingers wrap the neck of a bottle of Vodka.

The profit would be split with your coworker even if she’d been gone for more than half a night getting railed by her new boy toy. You can still remember the look she’d given you as she’d walked out during rush hour, her sharp smirk and smug sheen of ‘you won’t say anything, will you?’

Grumbling under your breath, you slip the Vodka back into its slot on the wall racks, while telling yourself you can’t drink on the job; trying to forget the face of the man that had been attached to hers before they’d stumbled to the back alley.

“Graham Whitaker, you’re such a five-cent sell-out,” you shake your head, sighing heavily into the air that smells like booze and sweat.

Graham Whitaker—your Ex in every sense.

You decided to tell your coworker, if she ever showed back up, that the only reason she was getting dicked-down was because it was that man’s plan to try and make you jealous. As if you’d be caught with your pants down over a prick that had cheated on you more times than you could count before you threw his ass out.

“Not my problem anymore,” your hands move to display themselves in a motion of a settled disagreement before wiping them on your black pants.

It was late now, of course, with the dart-drunk and his friends being the last patrons that you had to serve. But you’d been in this town a long, long time.

Sorrel the construction worker came in an hour, Miss Anna-Lee accompanying for her nightly Gin and Tonic before she talked about her late love from the seventies. From there it was three more regulars before closing activities and fighting to get up tomorrow by noon only to do it all over again.

Over and over and over.

You lean back on the counter and look across the brown wood and warm overhead lights, behind you, the illumination from the drink rack gives off a dead glow.

This was your workplace since you'd been of age, and over the years that seemed to drag, here is where you’d stayed. Nothing ever changed in this town—the biggest shock was when you’d broken up with Graham; people hadn’t stopped talking about it for months.

This place was like a prison of slow death and abandoned dreams. Safe to say this was not what you had envisioned for yourself.

You scoff, pushing off the back counter and snatching your rag back up before you can spiral once more.

The stains weren’t going to buff themselves out.

Maybe it was chance that the mechanics shop across the street had shut down, too few employees and too many drug busts. Chance, or fate, whichever it was you chose to believe in that still-air Sunday, it was still a shock to you when you looked out the front window as Sorrel called goodnight through his heavy accent.

‘SOLD’

“Sold?” Sorrel pauses with one foot out of the door, and he chuckles when he sees where you’re looking in shock, your hand holding a dirty glass.

“Haven’t heard, then? Few newcomers snuck in under our noses—they’ll be running the place; mechanics!”

“New?” You laugh. “Who in their right mind would come here of all places?”

Sorrel shakes his head, grumbling as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket. “You’ll just have to meet ‘em, Doll. Sure you’ll leave a glowing impression.”

“Take that shit outside, you ass. You know I hate the smell.” A smirk graces your dead eyes.

“Like I said. Glowing.” You glare, but the man slips out of the door quickly and his form passes by the window outside to climb into his truck parked in the street. Two honks from the horn and the older man is off, grizzly-like beard gone just like your boredness.

New arrivals?

You blink at the blackened shadows of the street, illuminated by the lights and their tall tree-like bases—the sway of the planted bushes in the boxes outside. Your head tilts at the abyssal building that was once in working order.

It was a shitshow now, years of abandonment not giving it any helping hand regarding upkeep. The concrete was cracked, the garage door was hanging off of one side, and the front windows had been broken by your Ex’s buddies when they had gotten into a fight like the three-year-olds they were.

You hum lowly. A hard-chucked set of keys, you recalled. You’d seen it from here easily enough. Hadn't lied to Sheriff Russel when he’d come knocking, and, you suppose, that was why even now the immature posse still tried to scare you by following you home at night to this day.

As if everyone didn’t know where everyone else lived already.

But back to the current interest for the night.

“Let’s have a little look-see, then,” you breathe, knowing Miss Anna-Lee would be a good while away like always. You could chance five minutes—it was just across the street after all.

Shuffling outside, making sure to hold the door until it closes slowly, you step down the single step and stick your hands into your pockets. The night wasn’t hot or cold, simply there like a metaphorical cut on your palm; it wasn’t surprising the more you lived with it, but it still made your skin itch.

Feet padding, you cross the dead street and take in the long stretch of unkempt grass, stepping onto the broken curb as your shoes crunch broken glass. Long-gone cigarette butts are scattered here and there, the occasional stray bit of metal or trash. Your eyes shift slowly from one brick that makes up the frame to another, the peeling blue color that could use touching up.

The mural you had painted in middle school had faded a long time ago, just like the great expectations of going into an art career. The eyes of a great gray wolf are only a dark outline that you can’t help but stare at as if a cancer was growing in your brain, hidden behind the reach of green ivy.

Ripping your eyes away, you ignore the cry of tires from across the town and the pop of an exhaust pipe—the roar of either a car chase by the repeat offender Irene Chaney, or by some stupid kid related to Irene Chaney.

“She’s gonna wreck one of these days,” you breathe, looking down at your object of intention—the sold sign in all of its red and white glory.

Your hand snakes out and grabs the cheap plastic, stopping its swaying with a creak and a tilt of your head.

You just couldn’t understand it—who in their right mind would buy this place? The only thing it would be good as is rubble, at least then some rabbit could make its very dusty home here.

Sorrel had mentioned multiple people too.

“Must be up at the B&B then,” your voice carries over the space, the stars twinkling above you as a shadow stands at the end of the cracked driveway. Its hands are in its pockets, tall form bulky with the dark brown leather jacket around its intimidating form. You’re none the wiser, letting the sign drop as you put your hands to your hips. “They better not be fuckin’ dickheads—”

“Mind explainin’ to me why I came to get a drink and now I’m talkin’ to some Bird on my property?”

You startle, gasp peeling out of your lips as your head swivels as if attached to a string which, in turn, tracks back to the source of a heavy Manchester accent. Grass breaks under your feet, as the gravel of the tone makes you cringe. Your eyes lock on the man who looks like he just came back from a warzone.

The first thing you noticed was the balaclava and the skeleton detailing, of course, how could you not—the lower half was an inch below those October eyes of the deepest shade of brown you’d ever witnessed.

Your spine straightens in cautious surprise, hiding the way your hands had clenched as if ready to swing on your Ex if he so happened to be there instead of…this person.

“Excuse me?” You say, quickly, as if it was forced out instead of a scream. Your face pushes that stern expression back to your face as your throat clears out the hoarseness.

A covered head tilts with its small sliver of pale flesh visible to you—the strong bones of his nose bridge and hidden jawline. The bulk of large muscles and thighs spoke to hard labor, and his booted feet shifted below loose black cargo pants.

The mask alone caused you a hint of worry in those few seconds of fast study of this phantom’s anatomy.

He blinks at you slowly, raising the small corner of a dark brow from a respectable distance away.

“Said you’re trespassing, yeah?” Your face gains a sheen of heat, and you glance at your bar behind the stranger, at the bright burn of the lights.

Taking a stiff breath, your lips pull into a frown as you try to hide your embarrassment.

“Well…a holler would have been just fine.” A fake glare is put on. “What’s with sneaking up on a woman in the middle of the night? Are you some creep or something?”

Those dark eyes stay locked on yours, and for a moment you don’t know if you’ve encountered a statue or not because he doesn’t speak for a moment.

A puff of breath from his nose.

“You the bartender, then?” You motion to your nametag above your left breast and grunt. His gaze homes in before he simply says, “Good.”

Without another word, the man turns stiffly before he steadily begins making his way back to the bar; crossing the street with a swift check of the road. You watch him saunter off, jaw slackened and your cheeks hot. The span of his shoulder blades levels out as he rolls his shoulders.

Where did this guy even come from? The answer was simple, the bed and breakfast was only four buildings down and to the left. Guy must have come in for a late-night serenade with a bottle.

A quick glance is thrown back to the rundown property behind you before you growl and hurry after this individual who currently pushes open the faulty doors of your work. Jogging across the asphalt, you catch the thing right before it closes and slip inside with a puff of air and a shoved-down snap of a sarcastic ‘thanks’.

Yet, the man is already pulling back one of the bar stools and easing into it when you make it behind the counter. You study him yet again.

“You’re one of the new mechanics?” Brown-Eyes blinks at you.

Without missing a beat, he goes, “Bourbon—Kentucky.”

“I asked a question,” you cross your arms, not even for a moment looking away as the silence of the bar sneaks in around you and this strange creature. “Least you can do for a lady is answer it when you act like a damn cat and sneak up on her.”

“You were on my property.” This is leveled out through a grunt, and after a moment of staring, you scoff.

“I was curious about who had bought such a piece of junk. Guess I have my answer.” Your hand grabs the bottle of Kentucky Bourbon, the amber liquid inside sloshing as you turn back and put it into the wood. There’s a fraction of a dead tease that makes the man seem more human than he looks.

“Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine?”

“I prefer a solar flair.” You comment dryly and set an engraved glass next to the bottle. Something flickers past the mechanic’s eyes, a quirk to the fabric of his balaclava.

“On The Rocks or Neat?” Your brow raises and you tilt your head.

“That even a bloody question? Neat.” You snort, splaying your hands before you grab the bottle as he watches you blankly.

“Sorry, it's kind of my job to ask.” Your hand shifts and you pour a reasonable amount into the glass, knowing exactly when to stop. As you shift the bottle away, you leave it on the bar top and gently push the beverage to him as his gloved fingers take it up. You repress a small smile at the matching bone gloves to go with the detailing on his balaclava.

“Bartenders always have this much attitude?” The glass is kept in front of his person, carefully held in his large grip.

Moving back, you go to lean on the back counter. This night was quickly taking an interesting turn. “Only if they’re me.” You sigh. “You have a name, then, Brown-Eyes?”

The individual snorts at the title, but his eyes narrow on you at the same time as if he was held hesitant at the ability for you to make him. He had an air of casual tension around him, like a dog on a thin leash that can only just manage to meet others and stay his fangs.

Danger, you pinpoint. The man felt like danger. A riptide; surface tension.

Then why was it that you felt more and more intrigued by the second?

“Simon Riley,” he eases, staring with those numb eyes of his before he tips the glass slightly your way. With the thumb on the same hand that holds the bourbon, he hooks it under his face covering and pulls it up until he can connect the glass to his lips and take down a sip as his Adam’s apple bobs in a swallow.

On the way back, his thumb drags the fabric back to its previous position as if nothing had happened. The image of pale skin and stubble sticks with you, and your eyes shift away quickly without you realizing it as the glass is returned to the counter.

“Well, Simon Riley,” you mutter, “welcome to nowhere.”

The man hums, eyes looking you over in a single glance before the gaze shifts to the wall behind your head. He says nothing, and the door opens to the next three familiar customers as you move to take their order. As you slip out from behind the barrier, you grumble under your breath before you slip past Simon to the corner booth.

“For the record, Riley, I do enjoy seein’ that old place getting taken on. Don’t run it into the ground, would you? And if you need a fresh coat of paint, for the love of all things holy, don’t go down to the Schafersons’ place, you come right to me.”

Walking casually, you greet the three ladies from the downtown library with a smirk and an easy comment about if their husbands knew they were out so late, to which you promptly got cursed out on good faith. Sharing a few chuckles, you get them started on what they need, all the while feeling those brown orbs now following subtly from the side of their sockets, intrigued.

Simon wasn’t sure what to make of you, and the same could be said about this town as a whole. A woman with such a future trapped behind her eyes, adventure in her blood, why were you here in a place with nothing promised for it except dying businesses and old faces? This was a place where people came to hang up the coat, not try and rip it off of its peg.

The children born here with ambitions leave, that was the common denominator. Even Simon could see that. But you? Here you were.

The man peels his eyes away, taking up his glass again and re-hooking his thumb to his mask. Amber liquid seeps into his mouth, pulling the scars on his lips and cheeks as he swallows it down as easily as water. The bourbon pools in his stomach, sending its honied effects to the back of his mind; it would take much more to get drunk, but that wasn’t what Simon was looking for.

Perhaps he was just out tonight wondering why he’d left the military for a mechanic’s job and come out here—asking anything for a sign that this was the right decision even as his head echoed with the screams and the gunfire.

And then he’d seen you standing in front of the fuckin’ worst mechanics shop he’d ever seen that he’d signed the property deed for not three hours ago. Hell, he hadn’t even looked at the place before buying it—Price was responsible for the official financial actions, and the man had made him swear that it was worth it.

But fuck, he’d just needed a way out of the city. Too loud, too unpredictable in that previous shop of theirs right by the busy street. MacTavish and Garrick had been easy to convince; they’d all served together before and had no family over here either.

A new start thousands upon thousands of miles away.

Your head pulls up from where you chat with the librarians, hearing the slam of the door as the draft wafts in from outside—a small breeze has picked up.

Inside walks in your very ruffled, and very well-pleased, coworker, Celina Bell.

She brushes down her top and black skirt, blinking around with blown pupils until her eyes lock on you. A poisonous smile meets your eyes as you raise a brow slowly—Lord, if this girl didn’t realize that fucking your Ex over some workplace squabble wasn’t something to be proud of, she was really a lost cause.

Simon only glances over his shoulder before turning back around and tapping his fingers against his glass absentmindedly.

“You alright?” You ask out of due diligence, sparing the ladies an apology look for them being interrupted.

“Better than alright,” Celina chuckles, walking over with a limp in her step. “Just scored Graham Whitaker.” She fake pauses, blinking as if in realization that a child would know was taking the piss. Your face is stuck in the expression of boredom. “Wait…you two were involved for a few years, right? Oh, I’m really sorry—I had no clue.”

“Yeah,” you look her up and down and blink at the disheveledness. “Sure. Quite the score.” A pause, her lips pulling back into that smug smirk that reminds you of a weasel. Yet your next words leave her face devoid of blood. “You know he got Chlamydia from Stacy Green a week ago, right?”

A pin could be heard dropping. Brown eyes are firmly stuck to the scene, unsure what to make of it. The ladies stifle their laughter.

“...W-what?”

“Y’know,” you motion a hand to her lower body, walking past her back to the bar. “STD. Chlamydia. Results in—”

“I know what the fuck an STD is, you bitch.”

“Woah,” you whistle, “language.” Your body returns to the counter as loud stuttering is left behind you, the frantic patting of a pocket to look for a phone before enraged feet rush to the exit. “Need a refill, Riley?”

“It can wait,” Simon utters slowly. The door slams shut.

You chuckle, shrugging. “Alright, suit yourself.”

The man takes the names you drop and files them away, slotting them into his mental database for when he needs to work with these people. Yet, there’s already a sour impression just off of comments alone. Who better to get your news from than a bartender?

You know everyone's dirty little secrets.

You diligently serve the drinks to the librarians, placing them down carefully before Simon once more has a re-filled glass of his drink. He moves it slightly up in a cheer and gives you a stare as you wipe your hands with a clean rag.

“Seems you know everything ‘round ‘ere.” His accent is what draws you in, and you find yourself eager to hear more from him.

“I’m easy to talk to,” you respond, shrugging and leaning on the counter a foot or two away as you both watch the other. A smirk overtakes your features. “And I am the one that gives people the drinks.”

“So, what I’m hearing,” Simon raises a brow. “Is that you get ‘em dunker than a man on his execution date.”

You click your tongue, tilting your head in a teasing manner while maintaining a serious face.

“Afraid you’ll spill your secrets, Riley?”

His eyes flash at you, and his lips flicker into a smirk you can hear in his voice.

“It’ll take more than two glasses of Bourbon to get me talking, Sunshine.”

Your face shifts away, but the sudden fight with a smile leaves you nearly breathless.

Who is this man?

“Why are you here,” your question meets his ears as he takes back the last of his drink, stomach filled for the night and his searching, for the moment, abated.

The glass meets the bar top.

He grunts. “Needed a drink.”

Your lips pull in annoyance. “You know what I mean. You’re terrible at answering questions.”

“Hm, maybe.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble, shaking your head as a low chuckle makes your insides swirl.

A stack of bills is placed on the counter, and the man stands, grabbing the hood of his black sweatshirt and pulling it up. His gloved hands go to the pockets of his leather jacket with a roll of his wide shoulders. From under the hood, the white of the painted mask glares out from under the shadows that now shroud him.

You both sneak a glance at the mechanic's shop—a clear view from the front window.

“See you around, then?” Your head is tilted at him, blinking. You hum under your breath. “I’m going to keep asking you why you showed up in this town, Riley, and I won’t stop until I get an answer.”

Simon quirks a brow, eyes glinting with interest. When was the last time someone had spoken to him like this outside of his boys?

“Look forward to it,” he utters slowly. With a blink and one more dead look, he’s already out the front door and walking back down the street—disappearing like a ghost the same way he had appeared.

Picking up his cash and counting through it, the librarians across the way snicker, and one calls out, “So, the new mechanic, huh?”

“One more peep and I’m doubling your tab.”

But…you did have to admit, he had been charming…hadn’t he? At least someone here could juggle your attitude.

—

Three days pass with no sighting of Simon Riley, but just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean you weren’t witness to his aftermath.

The shop across the street was practically fixed up while you were asleep.

Where there had been overgrown grass, there was now a cut lawn getting watered by the reach of an angry sprinkler. The fast movement of the spray reaches the sidewalk that was, somehow, still there under all that trash hiding away like a criminal. Stray bricks are gone and stacked into a pile as you pause outside the bar, staring wide-eyed with your breath caught in your throat in the late morning air.

The ivy over your mural was peeled back—that faded wolf’s gaze locking with yours, unyielding to the calls of time as its canid body stool as a silent sentinel.

But, on the third day, as you’re going on break before the night sets in, you manage to not only see Simon again but meet two of the other men who’d moved here.

You pick up your feet and jog across the street, hopping the curb as you blink, impressed at the open garage with its fixed and oiled bay door. Inside it was still dusty—remnants of what was left behind in the corners and scattered. But it was getting there. Quickly.

“Didn’t know Simon was goin’ to sign on such a piece of rusted shite—where’s the fuckin’ outlets?” Gritted Scottish. You stick your hands into your pockets and enter the large opening.

“If I remember,” you speak, finding the two men standing slightly off to the side as the bulkier one with a mohawk carries a series of extension cords. Cobalt and brown eyes dart to you in shock—the second man of darker complexion sharing a glance with the other in swift confusion. “When you manage to find them, they’ll all be burst.”

Blank stares are sent your way.

“Kids would come by and watch ‘em spark when they were bored. No one really cared enough to stop them.” A clearing of a throat meets your ears as you study the room more.

It was small, with only one main garage for all the repairs, but that wasn’t new to you. The motorcycles were, though.

Five in total all parked and resting next to one another near the back wall, all in varying shades of black and gray. Your lips twitch at the sight, imagining your late-night acquaintance riding one of them—you dare say that it fit him quite well, and you weren’t that surprised at all by this.

Biker mechanics. It fits the script.

“Who’s this then?” The Scot asks you, raising a brow as a friendly smirk pulls his mouth up. “Can’t remember bookin’ any repairs today, Ma’am, might have to wait a few more days before we get it all up and runnin’.”

“I can see. No, I work just across the street,” you spare a friendly smile.

“So you’re the bartender? The bartender.” The second man speaks, grinning kindly as he searches through a toolbox on a small table. He hums, looking playful. “So that’s why Ghost was gone so long.”

Ghost…? Did they mean Simon?

The skeletal accents suddenly make far more sense.

“Johnny MacTavish,” A hand is leveled out ahead of you, and you take it casually with a muttering of your own name. “Soap’s just fine as well.”

Your brow quirks, but you only share an amused nod.

The other individual stands and makes his way over, tall and leaner as to where Soap’s more blatant strength is.

“Kyle Garrick—Gaz. Pleasure.”

“Just came over to introduce myself,” your hand shifts back into your pockets as you motion with your head back to the bar. “I’m on my break.”

“Ah,” Soap’s hands move the cables he holds as he loops them into a more storable shape vertically around his elbow and palm. “Last one to meet then is Price—man’s in town gettin’ lunch for us,” he grunts under his breath. “Hopefully a damn set of zip-ties, too.”

“Zip-ties, Mate?” Gaz breathes a chuckle with a fix of the backward ball cap on his head. “C-4 would bloody help more. At least then we can have a clean starting point.”

“I think we’re fresh out of C-4, unfortunately,” you huff a laugh, motioning around as the men smirk at you, Johnny snorting a chuckle. “You guys have done a pretty good job so far. I can’t remember when it looked this nice in here.”

“Well, we’re honored, Bonnie,” Soap tilts his head as he ties off the cord with one of the ends. “Makin’ me blush.”

“If Simon had just looked at the place before buying it, we might have been able to open sooner.” Gaz huffs, thinning his lips as he glances over the broken window and the peeling paint—the door to the main lobby that has a punched dent in it. “Couldn’t be worse.”

“Well then it can only get better,” you breathe, shrugging.

Gaz huffs affectionately. “Not wrong there, then.”

You lean forward, tilting your head. “You’ll find I rarely am.”

“Second time you’ve snuck on,” a Manchester accent scares you once more, head snapping to the side as the light spills in from the garage opening. “This a pattern, Sunshine?”

Simon’s brows are raised as those October eyes lock with yours. Gaz and Soap share a look, smirking before the Scot peels off to find a place to store his belongings.

“Where have you been?” Gaz asks as you glare at the masked man for once again coming up behind you.

A bag is presented, leaning off three fingers as a glance gets thrown past you.

“Down the street. Needed these made.” The bag is tossed and Kyle catches it easily.

You watch as the crinkly plastic is opened and the dark fabric of four black pairs of overalls is produced, each embroidered with their respective names.

“What’s wrong with the old ones?” Johnny pipes up, brows furrowed.

“Looks like you got fuckin’ mugged in ‘em.” Simon slides his attention back to you as Johnny curses with a glint of amusement in his blues.

“Aren’t open yet.” Your face peels back to a stiff annoyance.

“I can see that, Riley.” You motion to the other men. “I was being polite.”

He grunts while walking past, muttering through a brief smirk, “Doubt that.”

Your jaw slackens, but you only growl and hold your tongue as you glance the mechanic over. He still had his leather jacket, but a loose shirt took the place of a hoodie.

“You ready to answer my question?” Simon locks those eyes with yours from over his shoulder before sliding up to the black form of one of the motorcycles.

Visible to the naked eye, you take in the lack of fairings around the frame—eyeing the pure black metal of the entire engine from any angle that you might move to you’d still be able to see. It was nice. Perfect, even; damn expensive too. While the thought was enticing, you can’t imagine Simon riding it—he seemed more rugged, more…classy.

“Negative.” You roll your eyes, but Soap speaks before you can retort.

“Finally takin’ out the CB1000R, Ghost? ‘Bout time.” The brute throws a blank look at the Scot as Gaz utters to you a few feet away before a casual ‘no’ is leveled out through the space.

“He got it months ago,” Kyle’s eyes crinkle. “Can’t seem to take it out for a ride yet. No one knows what he’s waiting on.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” your words confide. “It’s beautiful.”

“It was a fucking fortune—no use collecting dust is what I say.” You hum, shifting back to Simon who taps the seat of the CB1000R before moving past it to an older cruiser with dents and dirt along the sides. This was more him you thought. Rugged and more dated than the first; something you use on long rides to nowhere.

“Maybe he’s just waiting for a special occasion,” you guess.

“Better get on with it.” Gaz moves away with a shrug and a huff.

Your lips pull in a small smile, and you watch Simon pull keys from his jacket and insert them as he moves to straddle the larger body of the cruiser, easing into it slowly. Staring, you think about how far that bike could take you—what you could see with it on the open road of possibilities and whipping air. Where would you go? Anywhere. Anywhere and everywhere.

Eyes shifting away from the motorcycle, they widen as they softly meet Simon’s own—locked for a moment in a staring contest. His lids barely pull down, studying something. You clear your throat and exhale.

Sensing your company was most likely a hindrance at this point, you turn to leave as the engine flares—you wave easily behind your back with a call of well-wishes.

“Come have a drink one time, boys, yeah? I need stories that come from strangers for once.” A ruckus of ‘affirmatives’ and ‘will do, Ma’ams’ sparks up from Johnny and Kyle as you exit to the roar of the motorcycle behind you, your feet kicking a stray rock into the grass before you make it to the curb.

Before you can cross, a steel body blocks your path.

“I’ll be needing a drink later tonight, then.” Simon watches from atop his seat, one booted foot to the ground to steady himself as he comes to a slow halt. His fingers curl the handles, twitching.

“Let me guess,” you tilt your head, smirking, “Bourbon?”

“A woman after my own heart,” he draws numbly, October browns as dead as mulch. As dead as dirt.

“And do you have a heart, Simon Riley?” You question, blinking at him as your mind tells you to walk away. Your brain doesn’t need a repeat of Graham—you already had enough problems on your plate right now besides some attraction to this stranger. This push and pull made your heart jerk, even when you know it shouldn’t.

You’d only just met him.

The man hums, thighs shifting on the black metal frame. He says the easiest answer he can.

“A cold one.”

Pushing on the ground, he takes off down the road back into the main town for whatever errand he was on this time. Your eyes follow until the figure is no more than a memory of the smell of oil and the metallic tinge of caution.

—

You hated the smell of cigarette smoke.

Like a pregnant woman’s aversion to the scent of meat, you grew nauseous at the very hint of cheap tobacco and paper on the air—loathed the burn of it. It had to do with your Ex, of course. The man had been a habitual chain smoker, lighting up one after the other until you had to leave his house entirely to puke on the front lawn. If you thought about it hard enough, you could still taste the ash on your tongue from when he kissed you after lighting up.

But that was only one of the reasons you’d never moved in with him despite being together for years—the cheating was the other problem.

Girl after girl, broken promise after broken promise, you’d still held onto him as if he deserved it. Hell, all that Graham Whitaker deserved were the copious amounts of STDs he probably had after sleeping with as many women as he could to try and get back at you. You didn’t have ample reason to ban him from the bar—him or his loud-mouth friends, you should say—so the problem, like a bad rash, persisted. Cars following you after work and all.

But, the here, the now.

Simon had, in fact, come in for that drink that night—just as he had for the last week up until the grand opening of the boys’ shop. You’d both spoken throughout these encounters and formed some sarcastic and sly-looked bond that the other locals couldn’t understand. You had even learned about his military service.

The both of you were just…different, people said. No one else really argued with it.

You finally met John Price before the party that you’d heard from Simon that Soap and Gaz had been eager to host for the town—‘come meet the bastards that bought that old shitty building and see how they fixed it up all by themselves. You should come and give us your money.’

It was there that a proposal was offered.

“Simon says you told him to come to you about paint.” John was late thirties, keeping a well-trimmed beard with a mustache that was the same shade of brunette as his head of hair. Tall, as well as built, he had found you as you were closing up the bar early for the town-wide party, Celina having already slipped out.

You were dressed in a long skirt and a nice shirt for the occasion.

“John Price, I’d imagine,” you comment, stuffing your keys into your pocket as your purse hangs from your shoulder. A throaty grunt tells you all you need to know as you move down the step. “Yeah, I did say that. Do you need some?” You look over his shoulder to the still peeling color on the outside of the bricks as the men are dragging out folding chairs and long tables. There was the clatter of laughter and loud calls.

John’s blue eyes shift behind him, and he raises a brow slowly.

“Thinkin’ we’d just hire you,” a side-eye. “If you’d be interested.”

That was a surprise.

You begin walking across the street, the man beside you and awaiting your answer.

“Hire me?” Your voice asks, but you aren’t against the idea. “How do you know I’ll be any good at it,” you chuckle in question.

“Simon says he found your initials next to the mural—the wolf.” Your feet pause, stuttering for a second before you catch yourself. The blood on your face stops its circulation in shock. “Not a bad piece, then.” John grunts. “...Think you can do a skull and wings?”

So, you sat with your sketchbook in front of the wall, a portable camping chair below your bare feet as your legs folded under you. Your slip-on sneakers rest in the green grass, kicked off with a sigh. Blinking, the chatter and mumble from the party surround you in a sheen of community and calmness. You can pinpoint every voice, every story being re-told as if new news when it goes in one ear and out the other like a breeze on the wind.

Humming under your breath as the sun is low in the sky, you hear the silent feet still from over your shoulder. A smirk flickers your lips.

“Snooping, Riley?”

“My building.” He grumbles, “Seein’ what you plan to do to it.”

You snort, looking over your shoulder and smiling. “If I recall, you’re the one who took up my offer and told Price about it.”

Simon was dressed in cargos and a compression shirt pushed up to his elbows, the swell of his forearms on full display along with the scars and…tattoos. You blink at them, the swirl of black skulls and guns; barbed wire and dog tags—the dark images that fit him as his motorcycles did on his left limb. Brown eyes flicker from yours to the painted wolf.

“Good at that,” the man says, balaclava shifting.

Your expression slowly shifts to something far softer than you can remember it ever being; inside of your chest, your heart tightens.

“Thank you.”

He levels you, the corners of his eyes easing out of the numb nothingness to show something akin to shielded affection. Molten sunlight on the side of his face, making the color of his irises glow amber. Simon nods to your sketchbook, clearing his throat.

“I able to see it, then, or is it some secret?” You huff.

“Come here,” your hand motions, palm brushing away eraser shavings as your fingers get stained with graphite. The shadow comes closer, leaning over you as the scent of oil pools in your gut. You blink at the side visage, swiftly looking back down to your sketchbook as a slight wind ruffles your skirt.

“Price was talking about a skull with wings beside it—later on he made mention of a sword through the top.” While you explain the concept, you inadvertently study the tattoos on the flesh beside you, one scarred hand coming out to lightly grab the armrest of your chair as Simon leans even closer.

As your face begins burning, breath caught in your throat, he blinks down at the image as he looms, head tilting.

Simon breathes, chest rising and falling as his eyes go far off. You know the symbol means something, though you also have a good guess that it’s related to this group’s time in the service.

He hums, and you see his lips open, the rough grate of his vocal cords as he begins to form words for you.

“It’s—”

Your name is loudly called from across the way, both Simon’s and your heads snapping back as you both realize exactly how close you two have become. The stealing of the other’s warmth like wraiths of hidden longing ceases when you wrench your attention to the man you wished would leave you alone.

Graham raises the dark bottle of a cheap beer from the dollar store in your direction, walking over. Now, your Ex wasn’t anything spectacular, but even you had to admit it was the best you could do around here if you didn’t want to date men only five years from the grave. Graham was tall, strong, and heavy-willed like a bear. In the day hours, he worked as a farmhand down the way.

Your body tenses, eyes going tight. Simon sees.

“Who’s this,” he asks slowly, fingers twitching.

“Ex,” you mutter, grimacing. “He’s going to make a scene.”

Already gazes had started drifting over, conversations lapsing into mute silence as orbs shifted to three different individuals all stuck in the same storm.

Simon grunts, standing up to his full height and crossing his arms over his chest, legs shifting below him and thighs trading weight. His moving leaves half of you kept firmly behind him and your eyes study his stance as you notice that fact. You blink, and feel something stir in your ribcage, blooming like a flower.

“Hey, Bartender!” Graham takes a cigarette out of his pocket and lights it as his fingers fumble over the neck of the bottle. “Though I’d seen you over here missing all the action. Nothing’s changed I see.”

Your face pulls in with disgust.

“Graham, you’re drunk. Go home.” It was true—his words were slurring, his limbs loose with drink. He smirks at you, taking a drag of his cancer stick and puffing it directly at you. Your hand snaps to your nose to try and cover the horrendous smell.

“Nah,” he breathes. “I’m here with Celina, see’s a pretty nice lookin’ broad don’t you think? Not as good of a fuck as you, but, hey, I take what I get.” His expression shifts to hidden anger and Simon takes a heavy step forward before he can finish the rest of his sentence, hands shifting to grasp his biceps harder. Those browns simmer with low ferality—a warning.

The air gets heavy.

“Pretty good little lie you spread about me gettin’ that shit from Stacy.”

“That was a lie?” You drawl lazily and watch your Ex’s eyes flash with rage. But he should know you don’t take shit from him anymore. “Oh,” your fingers tighten over your flesh and make you sound stuffy. “Maybe I heard wrong, you’re right. You don’t have Chlamydia.” You glare. “It was Gonorrhea, wasn’t it?”

“Bitch!” Graham barks, moving forward, but before anyone can realize it, Simon already has him shoved back with a stone-like push to your Ex’s chest.

“Not smart, Mate.” The former soldier utters, arms falling back to his sides. The party by this point had entirely halted in sharp gasps and bated breath.

Graham’s beer bottle shatters as it hits the ground, the grass not able to absorb the way it slams down to dirt. Your wide eyes stay stuck on Simon’s figure, who’s now entirely hiding your view of your Ex—the wide expansive back that shows the writhe of his shoulder blades and how his spine shifts under the tight shirt.

Your hand lowers from your face.

“What the fuck?!” Graham spits. “You made me drop my fucking drunk, man!”

“Be thankful that was all, yeah?” Simon’s dead voice is a cold chill on a winter evening. Any sane person would turn and leave immediately. “Cut your losses.”

No one breaths for a long minute, and you can see the other new mechanics inching closer from the sides. All of the locals are deep into the scene, fingers to their lips in surprise. There’s going to be talk tomorrow—the bar will be busy.

“Graham,” you try to sway the pig-headed man once more from behind Simon. “Go home.”

“So this is what I get,” your Ex spits, head trying to peek over the larger man’s frame to look at you. Simon’s hands clench into tight fists. “I’m with you for years and this is how you treat me? I gave you everything!”

“Those are years that I never want to think about again,” you say with a stiff finality. “And it’ll be a cold day in hell before you ever see me worrying about where you are or who you fuck.”

Knowing that the situation is over and done with, Simon takes a single step forward and leans into the man.

“You heard ‘er,” he levels, unblinking. “Scatter.” Simon’s accent made it sound more like a threat, but maybe it was.

Graham growls and takes a long drag from his cigarette, staring Simon down.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.” But all he does is turn sharply on his heel and stomp away, crossing the street to his truck before he opens and closes the door with a violent slam. From across the way, Celina gasps and calls his name, but the engine has already started and Graham is down the road with a roar from the exhaust.

Everyone is watching you and Simon, and the staring peels back your skin until Simon grumbles and grabs your arm.

Blinking in shock, he only gives you a moment to steady yourself and slip on your shoes before he drags you inside the garage. You huff and look up at him as you close your sketchbook–trying to not look at those tattoos again. Your finger wanted to trace them—to study the ink down to the layer of skin where it ended and became red flesh and weeping veins. How far up his left arm did they go? Did they only stay at his forearm, or up to his shoulder?

Inside he lets you go, head slightly tilted to the outside as the sounds of hushed whispering pick back up; hurried and filled with electricity. Simon grunts, blinking.

A heated silence encompasses the two of you, and as your eyes lock, neither can speak for a moment.

“Sorry about that,” you glance at your feet. “Should have guessed he’d show up and do something.”

“Don’t apologize,” Simon crosses his arms again, boots righting themselves. “That’s not your fault that some bastard can’t act right, yeah? Forget about it, it’s all nothing.”

“You shouldn’t have to be involved—”

“Bloody cut it out, would you?” Simon glares, brows pulling in. “I said it’s nothing.”

He was very passionate about this, it seemed.

You sigh, shaking your head before a tiny chuckle makes the mechanic blink in confusion. “Suppose I can call you my guard dog now, huh?”

“Piss off,” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand while your eyes narrow down. Simon's own crinkle along the edges, lowering his hands to push them into his pockets.

A second leads into another, but neither of you has any particular interest in re-joining the others, even if Soap is smugly passing looks and Price smirks into his drink. Gaz fixes his hat while he tips back a beer bottle, hiding a glint of amusement.

Simon’s voice lowers, seeming to hover closer.

“You alright, then?” You nod, face heating up as you stare at his shadow-tainted visage and how the face-covering obscured him from your eager eyes.

“I’m used to his drama. I have no problem giving it back.” Simon hums, October browns glinting like Halloween lights.

“Seems so.” He pauses, and pushes out a joking, “Not surprised, Sunshine.”

“Good, Brown-Eyes,” you lean back on your heels and smirk. “I’d be offended if you were, with all we’ve been talking to one another.”

“Getting familiar, Bartender?”

“Of course, Mechanic. Haven’t you heard?” He tilts his head, prodding you on as his eyes soften that candle-like smidge. “I keep everyone’s secrets—and you still have to tell me yours.”

Simon chuffs a low chuckle, and the fabric of his mask pulls as he shakes his skull. “Maybe one day, yeah? Need to stick ‘round to know ‘em.”

Then perhaps this town was worth wasting away in.

—

“Bastard won’t cause any problems, will he?”

“No, no, he’s too much of a coward to try and get back at anyone. He won’t do anything.”

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @aldis-nuts, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

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mcflymemes · 1 month

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THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT - THE ANTHOLOGY BY TAYLOR SWIFT PROMPT LIST * assorted lyrics from the album, some lines slightly adapted for meme purposes but feel free to adjust as necessary

even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you.

trust me. i can handle a dangerous man.

i love you. it's ruining my life.

does it feel all right to not know me?

i am who i am 'cause you trained me.

quick. tell me something awful.

i loved you the way that you were.

we were just kids, babe.

i can fix him.

you and i go from one kiss to getting married.

you said i'm the love of your life.

way up there, i actually love it.

i just don't understand how you don't miss me.

do you hate me?

did you think i had it in me?

what if i told you i'm back?

i still miss the smoke.

i'm not trying to exaggerate, but i think i might die if it happened.

you look like stevie nicks.

it's hell on earth to be heavenly.

i still can't believe it.

this happens once every few lifetimes.

didn't you hear? they called it all off.

it's happening again.

my friends say it isn't right to be scared.

i might just die.

fuck you if i can't have us.

tell me about the first time you saw me.

are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me?

no one's ever had me... not like you.

stay away from her.

there wouldn't be this if there hadn't been you.

i don't think you've changed much.

that's where i was when i lost it all.

life was always easier on you than it was on me.

i hoped you'd return.

do you believe me now?

what if your eyes looked up and met mine one more time?

what are the chances you'd be downtown?

is it something i did?

oh, we must stop meeting like this.

they say what doesn't kill you makes you aware.

i'm not a donor, but i'd give you my heart if you needed it.

looking backwards might be the only way to move forwards.

the story isn't mine anymore.

what a charming saturday!

none of it is changing.

wild winds are death to the candle.

one bad seed kills the garden.

i'm bitter, but i swear i'm fine.

this place made me feel worthless.

i didn't want to come down.

everything had been above board.

blood's thick, but nothing like a payroll.

you can mark my words that i said it first.

the professor said to write what you know.

all of this to say, i hope you're okay.

your words are still just ringing in my head.

i built a legacy which you can't undo.

who do i have to speak to to change the prophecy?

the effects were temporary.

no, i'm not coming to my senses.

babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it.

you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart.

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope.

thought of calling you, but you won't pick up.

you're a professional.

long may you reign.

you're an animal. you are bloodthirsty.

now i seem to be scared to go outside.

i don't believe in good luck.

i hate it here.

if i'd been there, i'd hate it.

only the gentle survived.

i'm lonely, but i'm good.

you have no room in your dreams for regrets.

i thought it was just goodbye for now.

are you still a mind reader?

let it once be me.

i haven't decided yet.

i still dream of him.

i'm so afraid i sealed my fate.

it was always the same searing pain.

i can't forgive the way you made me feel.

it wasn't a fair fight or a clean kill.

she used to say she wished that you were dead.

tell me all your secrets.

they tried to warn you about me.

you're in terrible danger.

i'm the life you chose.

yes, i'm haunted, but i'm feeling just fine.

no one asks any questions here.

tell me i'm despicable. say it's unforgivable.

i'm running back home to you.

you should see your faces.

you knew the price going in.

was any of it true?

who the fuck was that guy?

i don't ever want you back.

did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

you don't get to tell me you feel bad.

you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

am i allowed to cry?

there's no such thing as bad thoughts. only your actions talk.

they're going to crucify me anyway.

i know i'm just repeating myself.

that's the closest i've come to my heart exploding.

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svsss-fanon-exposed · 2 months

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Exposing SVSSS Fanon: 25/∞

VIOLENCE AS COURTSHIP IS A PART OF DEMON CULTURE

Rating: CANON

A nearly universal trope, especially in Moshang fics, is the fact that courtship is performed through violence in demon culture, and that the misunderstandings between the pair are because of cultural differences. The fact that demons mistreat the targets of their affection is canon, however, it is important for fans to note that this sort of characterization and worldbuilding is rooted in racial and ethnic stereotypes.

This is one of the most-requested topics I've ever written on this blog, and I took a long time to think about how best to approach the subject in a way that both keeps to the intention of this blog (referencing canon & providing quotes) as well as raising awareness to the very real problematic aspects of what is a well-loved and often-used trope in fanon that I don't think most western fans are aware of.

First, the canon analysis:

“If you hold unique feelings for a certain person, how can you make them understand your intentions?” Luo Binghe asked. Obviously, no one dared to tear down Luo Binghe’s facade and expose him directly, but this question was really very…unsuited to the demonic approach. After a long moment, not a single person had answered. In fact, the answer was so simple that any normal human could have given it to you. If you liked someone, you should just tell them. Unfortunately, there was not a single “normal” person on the scene—and aside from Shang Qinghua, there also were no “humans” either. Mobei-Jun thought about it. With the paths his mind was given to take, there was no telling how he had interpreted “unique” feelings. “Beat them up three times a day?” (7 Seas, Ch. 26)

Most of the fandom remembers this passage, and some may think that this is where the interpretation of violence as courtship comes from-- however, that is not the case. This passage might actually not refer to courtship at all-- while that is one possible interpretation, Mobei-jun could also be interpreting "unique feelings" to mean something different than "romantic feelings," since Luo Binghe didn't specify romance directly.

The "violent demonic courtship" idea actually originates much earlier in the novel, just after the invasion of Qiong Ding Peak:

In truth, Shen Qingqiu didn’t intend to tease; he thought himself very straightforward. The one who’d tampered with Luo Binghe’s dream realm was Sha Hualing. Though she did have some harmful intentions, her underlying motive was obvious. Naturally, she was driven by a young girl’s secret yearning for love. Otherwise, she would have directed her aggressions toward others, not specifically Luo Binghe. Demons were compelled to viciously bully the person they liked. Only if the object of their affections failed to die would the demon accept them. If their target died, that meant they were useless and not worth nursing any lingering affections for. (7 Seas, Ch. 3)

This, in fact, has somewhat more serious connotations than the way I have often seen it interpreted in fanworks-- it is not merely beating up a potential partner, but pushing them to their limits, nearly driving them to death, and it is certainly implied that it is not uncommon for the object of a demon's affections to actually die.

Now that the canonical basis of the idea has been established, let us move on to the second, and arguably more important part of this post: the racism.

I would like to add a disclaimer here-- I am going to discuss this in hopes of raising more awareness in the fandom, but I am not North/West/Central Asian myself, so I will only mention things in brief and somewhat generally-- if anyone who belongs to the affected cultures would like to make corrections, or more detailed explanations, or any other additions to this post on this topic, I greatly welcome that, as I feel it is an important issue that should be addressed.

In Chinese fiction, particularly fantasy genres like xianxia/xuanhuan/xiuzhen, but also in historical and wuxia fiction, there is a pervasive, prevalent tendency for authors to use racial and ethnic stereotypes against Central, Northern, and Western Asian cultures such as Mongolian & Arab cultures in their worldbuilding regarding the North, while stereotypes against Southeast Asian cultures are used in worldbuilding regarding the South. These stereotypes are most typically applied to villains and villainous groups, and are so widespread as to be ubiquitous within the genre. MXTX has used these tropes before-- notably with the Banyue people in TGCF, with adaptations of both TGCF and MDZS including design stereotypes, such as CQL's portrayal of the Qinghe Nie (combining their tendency toward violence and 'unnatural' cultivation method, with design traits typically associated with Northern/Central Asian cultures).

It is worth noting, though, that most authors do not intentionally use these traits as racist stereotypes in their worldbuilding, especially when regarding a non-human species-- in the same way that western fantasy authors use goblin and orc characters and tropes without realizing or acknowledging their racist origins and connotiations, these stereotypes have simply become genre tropes without that direct connection to their origins. Nonetheless, it is still worth noting-- and worth trying not to fall into the trap of leaning into stereotypical traits in fanworks' character portrayals.

Stereotypes include but are not limited to barbaric and brutish cultural traits, association with animals/having animal features, dark or corrupt magical/spiritual practices, certain types of braided hairstyles & other fashion choices, and originating from the far north or south.

Some of the prejudice and stereotyping of Northern Asian cultures likely originates from the fact that in the past, China was invaded and subjugated by peoples from the north (under Mongolian rule during the Yuan dynasty, and under Manchurian rule during the Qing dynasty) as well as having many conflicts with these peoples throughout history. In fact, the Qing dynasty only ended in the early 1900s, so some of this oppression is still in recent memory-- nonetheless, people belonging to ethnic minorities in China are still affected by this negative stereotyping today, so regardless of the origin, racism is still racism and should be addressed, and China today is a majority Han Chinese nation-- even if Han Chinese are considered a minority and affected by systemic racism in other places in the world.

Additionally, many tropes specifically applied to the southern demons, but also used for demon culture as a whole, are tied to stereotypical portrayals of Southeast Asian culture, which is rooted in a long history of Imperial China's invasion and oppression.

All of those stereotypes listed above apply to SVSSS' demon culture. Even in Mobei-jun's name-- 漠北 meaning "northern desert," which is the real-world name for a region in the north of the Gobi desert in Mongolia.

Therefore, it is important to remember that though violence-as-courtship in demon culture is canonical within SVSSS' setting, it nonetheless originates from harmful racial and ethnic stereotypes. It would be a good idea for fans to keep this in mind when creating their fanworks, and to treat the topic with sensitivity-- but I will leave any direct suggestions on how to handle this to those who are actually part of the affected groups.

(thanks to @flidgetjerome for additional notes regarding SEAsian stereotyping and author intent!)

Also, to be absolutely clear: I am not saying that svsss’ demons are specifically coded as any real ethnic group— it’s only that in many ways the portrayal is similar to the common portrayal of various ethnic groups in cmedia. I don’t believe they are specifically meant to parallel a real life group, unlike for example TGCF’s Banyue— but it’s worth questioning why these traits, why these characters.

#svsss #fanon exposed #svsss demon culture #mobei jun #canon #I don't know if I did a good job addressing the sensitive topics here so please feel free to correct anything I got wrong #or if I've overstepped anywhere #i just want to use the platform i have to bring this to the western fandom's attention since i don't think it's widely known #i will very gladly reblog any additions from fans who wish to weigh in but definitely don't feel pressured to do so

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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 months

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Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement.

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head.

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

“Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it.

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because he was terrified.

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her.

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death.

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that.

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over.

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it.

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you.

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you?

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it.

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on.

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder.

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke.

God, he loved that smile.

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong.

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white.

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months.

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?”

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one.

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart.

You missed him.

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions.

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.”

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair.

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again.

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